Dogged Determination Series - The Collector's Edition
by
Rhondda Lake
<rhonilak@icontech.com>

Contains:
   D.D. I: Watched
   Interlude I: Linen and Steel
   Interlude II: The Grapes of Wrath
   Interlude III: Icy Hot
   D.D. II: Hadinio`gwe'oek 
   D.D. III: Pandora's Box
  
Rating: NC-17 for sex, violence and language
Category: Crossover, MSR, Angst
Spoilers: Up to "Leonard Betts", but not beyond that.
Keywords: Mulder/Scully romance.

Summary: The dog Scully finds is more then he appears, and the people
looking for him are willing to kill to find him. This sets off a series of
events and case files that change the lives of Agents Mulder and Scully
forever. From a crossover with Dean R. Koontz' "The Watchers", to
Native American spirits, Vampires, Conspiracies and a genius teenager
with the strangest ties...

Disclaimer: CC owns everything to do with the X-Files. This is a
crossover, but as to what with will have to wait till later to give credit
where credit is due. 

M/S Romance ALERT. If that turns your stomach, read no more.

Dedication: For Nancy.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Dogged Determination I: WATCHED



Chapter 1 
-------------

He was scared. So scared. His side hurt abominably, and he limped, fairly
certain his leg was sprained if not broken. But he had to think fast. He
couldn't give up. It wasn't only himself who would fall if the hunters caught
him. His brothers and sisters, cousins and aunts and uncles... all of them
would pay the ultimate price.

He slunk into an alley, whimpering a bit in pain, but quickly choking off the
sound. THEY could be close by. His senses were dulled from the car crash.
He couldn't count on them. He felt at a loss. Maybe he should throw
himself out into a busy street. A Mac truck ought to do the trick... But
even that was uncertain. What if he was only hurt worse, and THEY
caught him?

He'd thought about killing himself a lot over the past two days. Ever since
he lost Joe. Wonderful, loyal Joe Doddard. Joe, the vet. Joe, the one who
knew and understood. Joe who had been forced off the road after a car
chase for no other reason then because he was a good man, willing to die
to protect his best friend.

Raw emotion boiled up in his chest at the thought of Joe. And he wished
his could cry. Crying always looked like it was a relief. All he could do was
slump and whimper a bit more. 

He was so alone. So afraid. He needed help. But where could he turn?

He limped further into the alley, and staggering, knocked over a trash bin.
He froze at the sudden, violent noise of the can crashing into the pavement.
Like a deer in headlights he couldn't move, couldn't breathe.

Then a door opened, blinding him in a wash of too bright light. He flinched
and squinted against the glare. He saw a figure there, a silhouette. A
woman. He tried to run then, but he came down too hard on his leg. He
cried out. The woman came closer...

                                     #####

One more, mundane, simple task to make life appear normal. Dana Scully
balanced both trash bags in one hand as she reached for the door that led to
the alley and the dumpster.

Her mindless task was forgotten at the sound of a trash can falling. The
noise loud and startling an adrenaline rush. She dropped the bags and
reached for her gun, only to find she wasn't wearing it. Not to take out the
trash... 

She chewed her lip with indecision for a moment, anything could be out
there and she was unarmed. But never one to shrink from danger, she
threw open the back door. 

The spill of light from behind her seemed to pin a dirty, worn looking dog.
It squinted into the light then tried to bolt. 

She felt foolish until it let out a yelp and stopped.

The dog was hurt. It's leg was swollen and it's side was coated with either
mud or blood. Something in Scully went out to the poor creature. It would
most likely die alone out there, or end up mad from pain and attack
someone. 

Before she knew quite what she had planned she was moving slowly
towards the animal. It whimpered and she started a soothing litany of
mindless words.

"Shhhh... there boy. Are you a boy or a girl? I'm not gonna hurt you. I
want to take a look at you."

The dog stilled it's trembling, it's gaze seemed to be measuring. The
intensity of the animal's eyes reminded her forcibly of Mulder for some
unknown reason. 

Then the dog dropped it's head, it's tail began to wag and it limped slightly
toward her. 

She was cautious. It could easily turn vicious and bite, especially pained as
it was. The closer she got she could discern a long gash on it's side, and the
leg was definitely inflamed.

She should take it in it to the SPCA to be put down if it didn't have a
collar.

Still weary, she reached out her hand and touched the slightly matted fur of
it's head. Under the dirt she could discern the earmarks of a pure bred
golden retriever. Her discerning eye taking in the proportions and lines.
This was a damn fine animal under the signs of misuse. It would be a shame
to put such a creature down. 

Sighing she stood up. "Can you make it up some stairs? I'll clean you up
and get some food in you. I might have something in my bag to take care
of that side of yours." She patted her leg to call the dog, and it meekly fell
into step at her heel. She smiled. It was well behaved too. 

Dana Kathrine Scully what the Hell are you thinking? You do NOT need
another dog. Queequeg had been gone barely a month... and he had been
SMALL. She shook her head. She'd clean it up, maybe take it to a vet, then
she could put an ad in the paper, free to good home. The dog followed her
inside and waited as she tossed the garbage bags into the dumpster. It
heeled perfectly as it limped up the few stairs.

It really would be a shame to destroy such a nice animal.

                                     #####

The dog was by far the most well behaved she had ever heard of. It didn't
jump on her furniture. As a matter of fact it had limped into her kitchen as
if fearing it's filth would mark up her rug. She shook her head at the foolish
thought. It's last owners must have relegated it to the kitchen.

She examined the dog's injuries carefully, and it didn't pull away. It did
whine and yelp when she touched a particularly sore spot. It's leg was
sprained, not broken though, which was good news.

It had licked it's wound, most likely cleaning it fairly well, for there were no
signs of infection along the gash in it's side.

"Look boy, " Scully smiled, for a cursory examination had revealed it was
definitely a male, and not neutered, "I'm gonna try and get you in the tub.
I'll be as gentle as I can, but you need to be cleaned up, and then I can
determine if I need to put any stitches in your side. I don't know of any vets
open this late. So if you are good I might be able to take care of this
myself. Don't worry, I'm a doctor."

Scully laughed suddenly, she was talking to him like she had to Queequeg,
as if it could understand her. She really needed a life.

An hour later the dog was much cleaner, and if viewed totally from the
right side he would pass as a prize winning pure bred. His red/gold coat
glistened. He'd stood still for the hair drier. Scully had decided to give it a
shot to rid herself of the smell of wet dog after the animal had stood
perfectly still and allowed her to disfigure his left side into a parody of a
dog. She had had to shave the area of the gash, ten inches of pinkish dog
skin peeked out of his sleek coat. He had whined, but made no move as she
had given him a shot of local anesthetic then sewed up the gash. Fifteen
neat little stitches. She had also wrapped his leg in an ace bandage.

She was amazed beyond belief. The dog didn't squirm, or try to remove the
bandage. It didn't flinch when she'd used her razor to shave the area of the
wound, or stitched it up, not even when she applied the bedidine. It was a
better patient then Mulder.

Once clean and dry, patched and tended the animal had padded around her
apartment, looking things over. It had actually seemed to pause at her open
ID wallet and gun laying where she had tossed them on the coffee table
when she had come home. The dog looked at them, then at her, then back.
The gesture gave her a prickling sensation up her spine. Then it had moved
on. Sniffing around a bit before she fed it from a bag of Queequeg's dry
food she had still not tossed out. For all his obvious hunger he did not
attack the food. He ate almost daintily. Filled he padded to the living room
then curled up in front of her couch swiftly falling asleep.

She sat on a chair looking at the creature. It was an enigma, but it was a
harmless one. "What have you gotten yourself into?" She asked herself. 

Mentally she chided herself and told herself she would call the paper and
place an ad in the morning. She tried to shrug off the part of her that didn't
want to.



Chapter 2. 
--------------

The phone rang urgently. He wasn't sure why he thought he detected
urgency in the ringing of a phone, but he did. He crossed the office and
lifted the receiver. 

"Johnson Security." The thin black man spoke clearly into the phone,
running his hand through his short greying hair. He was tired, it had been a
long night. The system he'd set up for one of his clients had a glitch so he'd
spent a late night figuring out what was wrong and working on fixing it.

He stiffened at the words on the other end of the phone and he ran down a
mental list of names. "You certain about this?"

He sighed. Looking up he saw Karen standing in the door way. His wife
frowned at his body language and absently stroked the head of the dog at
her side. "Shit. Is there any way of knowing if Buster got away or was
taken?"

At the name both the woman and the dog at her side became alert and
focused. 

Johnson nodded and listened for a while then sighed. "I'll pack and get a
flight to Washington right away." He looked over at Karen then at the dog.
"Yeah, I'll be sure to bring Uncle Scrappy, he'll be wanting to find out what
happened as much as we do."

The retriever stepped forward and gave one sharp bark. 

Lemuel Johnson hung up the phone and met his wife's eyes. "That was
Travis. There's a problem. We have a friend in Annapolis who may need
our help."

"Be careful Lem. Both of you." Karen ruffled the fur on the top of
Scrappy's head. X

Harold Cook bent down, his black trenchcoat dragging into the mud
around him. He looked at the paw prints in the soft earth. With a pencil he
lifted the dog collar laying there. It was next to a chain fence with a broken
link. The collar had been sawed against the jagged link until the leather
snapped.

"I told you we were on the right track Cook. You tellin' me an ordinary
dog would lose his identification?" Cook looked up at his partner, Frank
Webb. Webb was tall and dark, a thick mustache offset his Italian looks.
Cook didn't much care for his partner, or for this assignment. Chasing after
some damn fool mutt that may have been infected with some biological
hazard that another dog had escaped with from Banodyne Laboratories all
of ten years ago. If the damn infection was so bloody dangerous then why
wasn't there much of a problem? Hell if it effected humans the media would
have a hold of the story by now. This felt like shit work. Webb insisted that
a side effect of the biological contaminant was heightened intelligence in
the carrier. 

"Looks like a wounded dog got snagged and pulled itself free. That's what
it looks like." Cook read the tags. All the proper shots, and a name tag.
BUSTER. Then again the dog's owner had been a vet, if the dog had been
sick wouldn't the owner know it? Something about this case didn't add up. 

Webb snorted. "You go right on thinkin that... and we'll lose this one just
like Johnson lost the original carrier ten years ago."

Cook ignored his partner's ravings and dumped the collar in a baggie. He
pushed his glasses further up his nose and stood. A short man, he had to
look up at Webb, but wasn't ever intimidated by the fact. What scared him
is that the NSA gave people like Webb guns...

"Let's just see if we can pick up the trail. The blood at the crash site would
indicate the mutt's wounded. It can't have gotten far. With any luck the
SPCA or a vet will call him in. They are all on the lookout."

Cook headed back to the car, leaving Webb to follow or not, but he didn't
plan on waiting around.

                                     #####

Dana finished brushing her hair. She had gotten up early and took the dog
for a walk. It didn't seem to much care for the leash, but it appeared to put
up with it stoically. On returning she had called three different papers to
place an ad. Not free to good home. This animal was not only purebred but
in excellent health other than the signs of some sort of struggle or accident.
It was well fed and it's nails were trimmed. This dog had an owner who
cared about it somewhere. Now if that owner had thought to give his or
her pet a collar the whole situation would have been resolved by now.

"Look, I'll be back later tonight. I'm sorry I have to leave you all day, but I
have a job." Scully crouched and ran her fingers through the silky fur
around the dog's ruff. "Be good, and if you ruin my carpet I'll use your hide
to cover the spot."

The dog actually looked insulted. It snorted loudly. 

"So... until an owner shows up, what am I going to call you?" She smiled
and rechecked the animal's stitched side. "Well you are a survivor... I
know. I'll call you Ishmael. How about Ishy for short?" 

The dog pushed his head gently at her chest, almost toppling her. "Ok, Ishy
it is. Now be good while I'm gone. Wait till I tell Mulder about you. He's
gonna either have seven kinds of fits or be a joy to watch as he tries NOT
to have a fit." 

Scully patted the dog's head and left, locking the door behind her.

                                     #####

She was gone. She was nice. She was trouble as much as she was salvation.
He understood about the lost and found ads she'd placed. THEY would be
looking for just such a thing.

He looked at the desk by the window. Seated atop it was a computer. The
dog once known as Buster almost seemed to smile.

                                     #####

Mulder was already wading through a pile of paperwork when she arrived.
He looked up at her over the top of his reading glasses and poked his
pencil at the coffee machine. She eyed it, then the stack of files awaiting
HER and made a beeline.

Once fortified she sat down opposite Mulder and plugged in her laptop.

Paperwork. She hated the dreaded excreata of bureaucracy. They had only
returned from a field assignment in Wyoming yesterday afternoon. With
any luck they could put enough of a dent in these documents of doom so
that they could have the weekend free. 

Scully pulled the top file from the tower awaiting her and glanced at the list
documenting a budget report from a case nearly a month ago.

"Mulder how long have we been putting this off?"

He smiled slightly, not even looking at her as his long fingers danced over
his own keyboard. "Long enough that Skinner is currently threatening us
with an assignment running wiretap on a suspected polar bear poacher in
Alaska if the backed up reports and files are not on his desk by Monday
morning."

Scully's jaw dropped. She looked over the neat stacks around them and
looked back at Mulder. "The CDC confiscated my long underwear after
our last jaunt up north. Looks like I had better buy some more."

Mulder actually chuckled,"Do your long underwear have those easy access
trap doors in the back?"

She flicked her plastic coffee stirrer at him. 

"Since I doubt we'll get this all done today, your place or mine?" He had
dropped his voice for the last bit, to a semi whisper.

"Ummm... Better be mine. I have something I have to be doing..."

Mulder frowned slightly. "Do you have a date?"

Yeah, as if. She wondered what he'd say if she said yes? "No. I just have
a..."

"Scully are you shedding?"

She looked at him, startled into silence for all of two seconds. "WHAT?"

He stood up and circled the desk before crouching next to her. He was still
frowning, those little creases forming on his forehead so endearingly. He
reached out to run his finger's softly over the fabric of her blouse, just
above her left breast. Her breath caught for an eternal minute before he
moved his hand back to hold it in front of her. Trapped between his thumb
and forefinger were two strands of red/gold hair. "Not quite your shade.
Something you want to tell me?"

When the power of speech was returned to her she cocked an eyebrow and
met Mulder's hazel gaze unflinchingly. "Well... I call him Ishmael." She
fought hard against a smile.

"I knew this Moby Dick obsession of yours would get you into trouble.
Does he have a real name?" His tone was teasing but there was something
in his eyes was it disappointment or hurt, or both? And what right did he
have to have either emotion reflected there.

"I don't know we never discussed it. But he's very handsome, with just that
shade of hair and the softest brown eyes. I don't know there was just a
connection." She smiled sweetly and pulled the strands from Mulder's
fingers. "He's a bit short, even to me... but he more then makes up for it in
manners."

The look on Mulder's face almost made her loose control and ruin the fun.
That wounded puppy look would give Ishmael a run for his money.

"Where did you meet him? This mystery man?"

"In the alley behind my house. He was lost and alone, and hurt. So I took
him in, cleaned him up and fed him." She couldn't help but smile. This was
too perfect.

The look of shocked horror on Mulder's face almost tore away her fragile
control. "You WHAT?" Mulder shot to his feet and began pacing the
room, running his hands through his hair in barely controlled rage. "You
took in some street person? Scully I never pegged you for stupid... he
could have been violent, insane or even an assassin... God Scully this has to
be the most brainless..."

Scully laughed. It was a sound seldom heard, especially in the office and it
brought him up short. He looked at her like she had lost her mind.

"It's a dog Mulder. Ishmael is a dog. He's a purebred Retriever with the
sweetest disposition. I think he'd been hit by a car or something, but he was
well fed and despite the signs of recent trauma, in good health. I am certain
he's got an owner out looking for him so I'm keeping him while I run an
add in some papers. Now will you calm down and try to get as much of this
crap done as we can today?"

"A dog?" He looked at a loss, until one of his rare room brightening smiles
lit his face. "You took in a stray? I never pegged you for such a soft touch
Scully." 

"Well I took you in didn't I?" She turned in her chair to begin on the
paperwork.

She was waiting for him to say something else. Maybe a jab like 'at least a
retriever is a REAL dog' or some other comment. But it didn't come. He'd
never much cared for Queequeg, and he made no pretense at grief over his
demise. But he did respect her feelings on the subject, and he recognized it
was still a sore spot for her.

He'd returned to his desk and they worked in a comfortable silence for a
half hour before Scully looked at him over the field of files. "Chinese
tonight? My apartment, my dishes, YOU buy."

"Sure Scully, take advantage of me."

She shook her head and reached for another file. 



Chapter 3. 
------------------

Scully unlocked the door and pushed it open. The dog was seated in the
hall, far enough back that he wouldn't trip her. She smiled at him and held
the door open for Mulder. The dog stood up as Mulder entered the
apartment, hefting the box originally designed to hold computer paper but
now stuffed with the paperwork they had not managed to finish at the
office and topped off with the bag containing chinese take out.

Mulder set the box down then stood, hands on hips, staring at the dog.
"Scully it's a mutant."

The dog huffed through it's nose and limped to Mulder, looking up at him.
He didn't make the normal dog action of sniffing out a new person, he just
stared. 

"Mulder I had to do that to patch him up. He's actually a prime example of
his breed.

Mulder hadn't moved. "Scully... He's STARING at me." Mulder didn't look
away. He didn't want to loose a staredown to a dog, but something in this
dog's eyes sent a shiver down his spine. It's eyes, they weren't... normal.
Mulder frowned, searching the direct gaze piercing him. The eyes were the
soft brown of any dog, right shape, no unusual color. So what was it?
Expressive. Those eyes had a depth that didn't have any place in the eyes of
a dog. Mulder couldn't look away. Some small part of his mind registered
that a dog was supposed to have a short attention span, so why was this
one not moving?

"You don't HAVE to stare back you know." Scully patted her leg and held
up the leash. "Come on Ishy, you've been a good boy."

The dog snorted again and broke the competition, opting for a relieving
walk. As Scully hooked the leash the dog shot Mulder what could only be
interpreted as a smug look. 

Once they were out the door Mulder moved the box into the living room
and took the large paper bag filled with their take out dinner off the top.
Storing the dinner in the kitchen he sat on the couch and tried to divvy up
the work fairly, and to ignore the idea that there was more to that dog then
met the eye.

                                     #####

In a dingy diner Cook sipped at his coffee, absently perusing the classified
section of one paper even as Webb poured over the same section of
another. Webb had declared the exercise was equal to looking for a needle
in an entire barn. 

Cook pushed his glasses further up his nose and ran his hand over his
balding head. He was beginning to agree with Webb. Satan must be out
buying a pair of ice skates, the day had come that he was agreeing with
Webb.

Webb was chewing on the end of his thick mustache, just one of his
annoying habits. He looked across the table at his partner questioningly.

"You gonna tell me why we are really after this mutt? If it's a biological
hazard like I was told the CDC would be after it. I can't see how a dog is a
threat to national security."

"I'm not supposed to tell you, but the original infected dog was being
tested with a new form of biological warfare. We CAN'T let the CDC
know about this. Or anyone else." Webb looked back at his paper.

"But again, the original carrier escaped ten YEARS ago Frank. If this
experiment was so deadly it would have spread like wildfire in that amount
of time."

Webb stared at his partner, something cold and calculating in his eyes. He
never much cared for Cook, if Cook wasn't such a good tracker he'd have
told his bosses to kiss his ass. But if the man didn't stop asking questions he
shouldn't, Webb would take great pleasure in putting a bullet between
Cook's eyes when this job was done. Cook never learned the fine art of
following orders and not asking questions. Which was why the jerk was
fifty and still working assignments like this. Under the command of
younger, and more circumspect agents.

He was spared having to say anything when Cook flashed a grin and held
up his paper.

"Looky here. Found, Retriever. Annapolis area. Good health. Call
555-3636."

Webb slapped down his paper. "Lets get to it then. We have to contain this
thing."

Cook paused as he slid out of the booth, for some reason he didn't care for
the implications of Webb's words. He didn't care for it at all.

                                     #####

Dana fed a quarter into the box at the end of her street and pulled out the
evening edition. Ishy sat at her feet quietly, looking up at her.

Tucking an errant lock of auburn hair behind her ear she flipped through
the classifieds. Frowning a little she started the short return walk to her
apartment.

"Now when we get back try not to antagonize Mulder will you? He doesn't
like being outdone by a dog." Scully smiled and Ishy gave a soft woof. X

Webb had called the number in the paper on the way. A man had answered
and confirmed that the dog in question was a golden retriever, and didn't
appear to be a stray. Webb had told him they would be by to pick up his
daughter's dog in short order.

"I'll lead this dance. You just get the dog." Webb announced as they got
out of the car. Cook held the muzzle and leash in his hand as they
approached the door. This was the address the man on the phone had
given.

Webb knocked and the door was opened by a smiling dark haired man.
"You must be here for the dog. Do you mind if I ask you to call him, just
to be sure. We've sort of gotten attached to him, if you know what I
mean."

Webb smiled easily, only Cook noticed the expression didn't reach his eyes.
"Sure thing. Where is he?"

"In the back room. He just got back from a walk." The man held the door
open allowing Webb and Cook access to the apartment.

"Buster." Webb called into the house. "Buster, here boy." There was no
reaction in the house. Webb frowned. He'd been warned that if the subject
was what it was suspected it was he was quite capable of playing 'dumb
dog'. "You said he was here?"

A small woman emerged from what appeared to be a kitchen. "You must
be Mr. Jones. He didn't react at all. Maybe you should come on back and
check to make sure."

Cook followed Webb into the kitchen. The place was scrupulously neat.
Almost sterile. The Dog was drinking from a plastic cool whip container
being used as a water dish. The animal looked up at him and cocked it's
head. Webb met it's eyes.

The dog whimpered questioningly. 

"That's our Buster all right. Look I'd really like to thank you for taking him
in. My kid was at a loss for the past week. She's really attached to him ya
know." Webb motioned him and Cook stepped forward to place the muzzle
and the leash on the dog.

"Is that necessary? He's such a good dog, I think muzzling him is a bit
extreme." The woman spoke up.

"He's usually really good, but he goes nutty in the car. Mike why don't you
take him out. I'll finish up here."

Cook looked at Webb questioningly. Something freezing in his heart.
"Come on Mike, You know the reward." Webb shrugged. "We had a five
hundred dollar reward for Buster's safe return."

Cook felt off. Yes, there was a reward promised on the posters given to the
SPCA and vets in the area. But he hadn't expected it to be paid up under
this situation.

"All right. Thanks folks. We really appreciate you returning Buster to us."
Cook led the mildly protesting dog out to the car.

Once his partner was out of the house Webb smiled at the couple before
him. "Now about that reward..." He pulled out his silencer equipped
Walther ppk and took quick aim.

There was a moment of shocked fear on the man's face before a neat hole
blossomed in his forehead with a fine mist of blood exploding out the back
of his head. The woman didn't scream, even though her face was a mask of
horror, she dove for cover, just outside the kitchen door.

Webb stepped around the door and saw her trying to cross the living room.
Two shots took her in the back. She fell and was still as he approached. To
be certain he pressed his gun to the back of her head and pulled the trigger
once more.

Unscrewing the silencer he deposited it in his pocket and checked the
house. Neither he nor Cook had touched anything. It looked like their job
was done. Mr. and Mrs. Chisdok wouldn't have to worry about the dog
they found anymore.

                                     #####

Mulder looked up when Scully came back in. She tossed the paper on the
couch next to him. "My ad isn't in there. I'm gonna call the paper and see if
it was misplaced or what." She unhooked Ishmael and picked up the phone,
dialing the number she'd found this morning.

"Hello, this is Dana Scully, I'm calling about a lost and found ad I'd called
to place this morning."

Mulder looked up again to see Scully frowning. "I don't understand, I
didn't cancel it. Wait a minute, how was it canceled? E-mail? There must be
some mistake..." 

All of a sudden the dog jumped up. One paw accidently hitting the hang up
button in the phone as it began to lick Scully's face and chin.

"Ishy... Ishy get down." She pushed him lightly away. "look what you did.
You hung up the phone on me." She shook her head and hit the redial.

The dog's paw once again hit the hang up button, this time he barked. 

"What's wrong with you?"

"If I didn't know better Scully, I'd think he didn't want you to call the
paper." Mulder grinned at her, until the dog barked again. His eyes
narrowed slightly and he studied the dog, then shook his head.

"Call in the morning Scully, we still have to wade through this mess."
Mulder held a file out to her. 

"All right. Come on, I'll heat up dinner. Hey Ishy do you like beef lo mein?"
She brushed past them and into the kitchen.



Chapter 4. 
------------

Scully had disappeared into the kitchen and the dog began to toss around a
small red ball that had once belonged to Queequeg. He looked stupid
playing with it. It was too small for a dog that size. 

The dog would toss it up in the air and try to catch it before it hit the floor.
It missed a few times due to it's limp. Mulder tore his eyes off the stupid
mutt and began filling out a report by hand. He smiled to himself, at least
he didn't have to rifle through a ton of field notes like Scully did.

The Microwave was beeping in the kitchen but the dog was unusually
silent. Mulder stopped writing and tapped his pen against the file in his lap.
The dog was nowhere to be seen. Mulder looked around. That animal
made him nervous. Then he spotted it. The retriever had it's face burried in
his suitcoat.

"Hey!" Mulder set the file aside and stood up. "That isn't your chew toy."

By the time he reached the dog it had his identification wallet out on the
floor. Mulder froze, something was very weird here. The dog flipped it
open with it's nose, making Mulder frown even more. How the hell did a
dog know how to open a wallet?

The dog looked at the Badge and ID then up at Mulder. It snorted then
picked the wallet up in it's mouth and walked forward to stand before the
puzzled man. Ishy pushed Mulder's hand with his head, and Mulder took
the wallet out of the dog's mouth.

"What's going on here?" Mulder muttered under his breath. 

The dog limped past him and began to resume his game with the ball. It
was almost as if a switch had been turned. One minute the animal was
exhibiting some strange, almost intelligent behavior the next it was acting
like a typical dog.

Mulder returned the slightly damp wallet to his suitcoat's inner pocket and
returned to the couch.

Scully came out of the kitchen balancing two plates of reheated food.

Setting one on the coffee table before Mulder she sat next to him with the
other before reaching for a file of her own to work on.

"That dog didn't have ANY collar?" Mulder looked over at his partner.
Scully had just eaten a forkful of lo mein and she shook her head slightly as
she sucked in a particularly long noodle through pursed lips. She hadn't
even bothered to look up. Mulder forced himself to look away from her.
Unpartnerlike thoughts, do NOT think unpartnerlike thoughts he kept
repeating in his head.

Scully swallowed and started to search through her field notes. "No collar,
no scar for a id chip, nothing."

The dog had stopped it's playing and looked at them, as if understanding
that they were talking about it.

"It behaves strangely for a dog." Mulder started on his own food.

The dog almost grinned then came up in front of them to whimper.

"Really? Mulder it's a dog. Right now it sees us eating and it's begging for
some of our food. You don't have to see an X-file in EVERYTHING you
know."

Mulder looked at the dog again. She was right, it was sitting there, making
the little whiny noises in the back of it's throat. Mulder picked a piece of
beef out of his lo main and tossed it to the dog. Ishy caught it easily. Then
the dog inched closer.

Scully laughed. "Now you are in for it. You fed him, you won't get rid of
him until your plate's empty." X

Lem got off the plane in D.C. and claimed his baggage and the travel
carrier containing Scrappy. Once he had rented a car he let the dog out and
loaded his suitcase in the trunk. 

"Sorry about that ol' boy, but no mutts in coach. Don't feel bad, sixty years
ago they wouldn't have left ME in coach either, least not the front half."
The dog whuffed and sat up in the passenger seat.

On the drive away from the airport Lem began to outline the situation.
"First we find a hotel, then we call home and see if Travis has called in any
new information." Scrappy looked at him accusingly with his big brown
eyes. "Oh, sorry." 

Lem reached over to flip open a laptop computer between them. Reaching
into his coat pocket he pulled out a pen and handed it to the dog. Scrappy
took the pen in his mouth then bent to the computer. Lem tried to drive
smoothly and ignore the slow clicking sounds at his side. He felt a paw on
his leg and looked down briefly at the screen.

WHERE JOER FOUJND/ ME GOOD NOSDE.

Lem chuckled and Scrappy growled at him. "Sorry, I know typing in a
moving car throws you off. Ok Joe was found on Annopolis Road. As soon
as I find us a place to stay and check in I'll take you there."

He chuckled then, to himself. Ten years ago if someone had told him he'd
be driving through DC with a superdog and a laptop he'd most likely have
pulled his gun on the unfortunate soothsayer and waited for the men in
white coats. But a lot can happen in ten years. The world was changing. He
looked briefly at his companion. And it was changing for the better. He'd
once told his friend Walt that man was achieving godhood, and that he
deserved to get there, if he could create something like a dog with human
intelligence. But he had grown to learn over the years that man was not a
kind and benevolent god to his creation. We created life... and then try to
deny it freedom. He'd helped assure that that didn't happen once. He'd try
to do so again. He had to try to keep the government from getting their
hands on any of Einstien's get. If he failed...

Lem felt his hands become damp on the steering wheel, and the fine hairs
on his nape stand to attention. If he failed it would be slavery for another
race. Or extermination. Lem shook his head slightly. No way, no way was
he gonna stand by and let that happen. He just prayed that Buster was alive
and safe...

                                     #####

They had been working for hours. Mulder took off his glasses and rubbed
his eyes. 

"The words are starting to swim. I think it's time to quit." He closed the file
and put it on a stack of 'done' work.

Scully sighed and closed her own as well. "It's half past midnight, Mulder."
She stiffled a yawn, trying to hide it behind her hand. "We don't have much
more to go. Why don't you stay the night, we can finish in the morning and
have the rest of the weekend free. Once this stuff is finished I don't even
want to THINK about work until Monday morning."

"Ooo, you gonna wake me or nudge me?" He gave her his best leer.

She raised an eyebrow in the Scully/Spock maneuver. "The couch Mulder.
You get the couch."

Tempting as the offer was he wasn't certain he could stand having that
damn dog watching him all night. It had been curled up looking at them as
they worked. Mulder couldn't shake the feeling that he was being
evaluated. "That's ok. I'd rather go home where I can shower and change.
I'll be over in the morning though."

Scully watched him leave and set about cleaning up the small mess they had
made, including depositing the sandwich bag of sunflower seed shells into
the garbage. Ishy followed her, watching her check the locks on the doors
and windows. He followed her into her bedroom and lay down so that he
was between the bed and the door.

Scully changed for bed and shook her head at the dog. "If I trip over you in
the case of a late night bathroom run you are going to be one sorry dog." 

The dog whuffed quietly and lay it's head on it's paws.

                                     #####

Once home Mulder couldn't sleep. Now that in and of itself was not terribly
unusual. But this time slumber was not elusive due to fear or soul
searching, being caught up in his work or any other identifiable reason. It
took Mulder the better part of an hour to figure out it was the dog Scully
had taken in that was bothering him. 

He had felt no threat from the animal, no animosity. There was no intuitive
sense that the animal was in any way harmful. But it disquieted him none
the less.

"God can you sink any lower than to feel jealous of a dog?" He mumbled
into the shadows that danced to the patterns of light coming from his TV
set. Was that it? What did he have to feel jealous about? WHY would he
feel jealous? >Don't go there.< His conscious mind warned him.

No, it wasn't quite jealousy. It was the strange intelligence in the animal's
eyes. The uncanny way it sought out his badge and examined it before
returning it. It's incredible attention span, and the way it watched them all
night. It was... spooky. Mulder smiled to himself at that thought. Yeah,
right. Scully has a point. I'm looking for the unusual in everything now,
even in a strange dog.

Sleep still eluded him. Feeling slightly embarrassed he went to the phone.
He punched in a number he knew by heart and got an answering machine. 
                                     #####

Cook sat down heavily in the recliner of his apartment. He poured himself a
glass of whisky and tried not to think. They'd handed the dog over to the
regional head of the NSA, and the entire meeting had left a thick oily taste
in his mouth. Maybe it was that they were handing over the animal in an
underground garage, not even the garage of headquarters. Maybe it was
the presence of the others. Not only Director Simms but the three men who
shoved the frightened dog into a cage and the two men who watched. They
all wore trench coats and suits, and in DC that proclaimed loud as a neon
sign they were government. So where were the doctors? If the dog was
carrying some sort of biologically engineered disease shouldn't there be at
least one doctor present to assess it's health?

The two watchers made his skin crawl. One was a tall black man the other
was a watery old chimney. Neither had said a word. As soon as the dog
was caged and loaded into the back of a non-descript van those two got
into the back with it. 

Director Simms had patted them on the back, told them how wonderful it
was to see a job well done then dismissed them. They would find new cases
on their desks Monday morning.

Harold Cook downed his whiskey and closed his eyes. This whole
assignment had gone from feeling like shitwork to feeling like a set up of
some kind in just a few short days. And Harold Cook did not like being set
up. He didn't like it at all.



Chapter 5. 
------------

Scully showered quickly and dressed casually in white jeans and a baggy
white tee shirt. She knew Mulder would be showing up any time now. She
set the coffee pot to brewing and cut a fresh grapefruit in half for her
breakfast. Setting both aside she got the leash and hooked Ishmael up.

"Come on, walk time." She checked him as she clipped on the leash. The
dog's limp was less pronounced this morning and his side was healing well.

She wandered slowly down the street, letting the dog take care of business.
He sniffed at the trail of a hundred dogs before him, but made sure he
marked the corner of the stairs on the outside of her apartment. In less then
ten minutes they were back and Scully was leafing through the morning
paper. Ishmael went into the livingroom. His eyes skimming the tapes and
CDs on the shelf next to the stereo. His tail wagged jauntily as his nose fell
on an album title he was familiar with. Joe loved classic rock. 

Mulder knocked at 8:30. When she opened the door he grinned. "Avon
lady."

"Do you drive a pink car too?" Scully let him in.

He passed her, following the scent of fresh coffee he called over his
shoulder. "Scully, that's the Mary Kay girls, you ought to know better." 

"And how did you get so up to date on door to door cosmetics sales?" She
moved past him to sit at the table as he poured himself a cup of
rejuvenation. 

"Now Scully, if I told you I'd have to kill you." He opened one of the
overhead cupboards and brought out a box of cereal before fetching
himself a bowl and spoon. 

"Help yourself, Mulder."She smiled as she spooned another wedge of
grapefruit out.

"Don't mind if I do." He answered, his head buried in her fridge as he
sought the milk. "Geez don't you have REAL milk?" He resignedly brought
the carton of 1% to the table.

"It is real milk. It came from a cow." She turned her attention back to the
morning edition.

"Yeah, then had every redeeming quality in it removed by some unknown
scientific process that most likely involved radiation and a new brand of
Purity Control." He poured it over his corn flakes none the less. He took a
healthy swallow of coffee and his face went red, and he gasped for breath. 

He managed to gasp out, "Water."

Scully struggled not to laugh as she leapt up to get him a glass of tap
water. He snatched it out of her hand and gulped it down.

"Careful Mulder, the coffee's hot."

The glare he gave her told her he had paid attention to her own scathing
looks. "Thanks for the warning. You taking lessons from Micky D's or
something. I should sue you for damages, I may never be able to use my
tongue again."

Scully laughed, "You're talking just fine now."

He poured some of the pseudo-milk into his mug, despite the fact that he
didn't much care for light coffee and looked up at her with a lazy smile that
made her heart rate speed up. "That's not what I meant."

Scully almost choked on her grapefruit. Mulder smiled triumphantly at her.

"We should be done by noon, I agreed to play in a game at one. You
wanna come watch? You can root for the other team."

"Who are you playing this time?" 

"Couple of guys from forensics. Hey maybe you can cheer on Pendrell."

She just rolled her eyes.

When they moved on to the living room neither noticed Ishmael pull the
paper off the table and start looking at it with decidedly undoglike interest.

                                     #####

The phone blared. It was too freaking early in the morning, on a
SATURDAY morning, for phone calls.

Cook reached out blearily for the phone on his nightstand. His hand found
it's target and he pulled the receiver up to his ear.

"This better be good." He grumbled into the phone.

"That dog you brought in... it was the wrong dog. It was... uninfected and
at least two years younger then the retriever we are after. The hunt is still
on. I want both you and Webb in my office in one hour." Simms hung up
before any protest could be uttered.

Damn! Cook slid out of bed and headed for the shower. He had thought
he'd washed the last of Webb's stink off of himself yesterday.

                                     #####

Mulder signed his name to the last document with a bit of a flourish. Done,
fineto, finished, FREE. He closed the file and sat back silently watching
Scully work. She was on her last file as well. He smiled to himself, he had
won their unspoken race. 

She sat curled in her chair, her glasses glinting in the sunlight coming in
through the window. That same sunlight burnished her hair into a brilliant
copper. She looked completely absorbed in the report. The pen in her hand
danced over the paper lightly. She looked like a college student cramming
for a final. Or a Raphaelite painting.

She was undeniable beautiful sitting there, and Mulder shifted in his seat,
uncomfortable. He tried to work some decent basketball plays in his head
as a distraction.

He didn't notice Ishmael next to the stereo, or the dog pushing the play
button with his nose. But the quiet air of the apartment was shattered by
the fierce rift of an electric guitar the likes of which only Jimmy Hendrix
could produce. 

Both agents jumped at the sudden sound. Luckily the stereo was not on
very loud. But both of them wore a stupid stunned expression on their
faces.

//She's a sweet little heartbreaker. She's a sweet little love maker.// Scully
was out of her chair like a shot making a mad dive for the stereo. // Oooo,
Foxy Lady.// Scully turned off the power before hitting the stop button.

"What the hell was that?" Mulder was on the verge of laughter. 

"Must have been a power surge or something." Scully stood with her hands
on her hips frowning at the unit in question. "But I don't remember the last
time I had that tape in."

Ishmael sat next to Mulder and put his big squarish head on his leg. Mulder
scratched the dog behind the ears without thinking. If dog's could smile...

Scully shrugged. "Well we are almost done. How about I spring for lunch
and then Ishy and I can choose what team we want to see loose." 

"Sounds good to me. What do you think fur face?" Mulder moved his leg
under the dog's chin.

The retriever barked once, his tail wagging.

Scully finished off her last report and hooked the dog to the leash. 

"You drive." Mulder grinned. "If you are taking the mutt I don't want him
shedding all over MY car."

They headed out the door, only the dog looking back, at the phone. Scully
had forgotten to call the papers this morning.

                                     #####

Scrappy snorted as he came up to a chain link fence. He looked back to see
Lem right behind him.

"You must have one hell of a nose. This trail must be five days old. You
sure you aren't part bloodhound?"

The dog shot him a dirty look, but Lem's white smile shone through his
dark face. 

"So where did he go from here?" He looked down at the dog. Scrappy
whined low in his throat. "Shit... you lost the scent?"

The dog's head dropped and he tucked his tail between his legs in
dejection.

"Well we got this far. We know Buster lived, and made it away from the
crash site. Now we fall back on relying on plain ol' human me. We comb
the newspapers. My guess is the SPCA and Vets will be fed the same shit
story they were ten years ago, claiming Buster is an escaped lab dog who
may be carrying the cure for cancer. But we've got an advantage this time...
Buster doesn't have any tatoos. And we can call the same agencies with a
bit more detail. After all, WE know he has a half moon shaped pink spot on
his nose. I bet THEY don't." Lem tried to cheer his friend "But we won't
give up on this track either. Now, I can't think like Buster, YOU can. You
are hurt, alone and afraid... where would YOU go?" 

Scrappy looked around carefully, and slowly began walking west.



Chapter 6. 
------------

The drive to the Mall was spent in companionable silence. Ishy poked his
head out the car window and had his ears flapping in the breeze. 

Once they had parked Scully led them to a vendor not far from their
favorite bench. She merely raised an eyebrow when Mulder ordered three
hotdogs. They sat to eat and watch tourists.

Scully saw Mulder feed the dog one of the hot dogs and bit her tongue
against yelling at him. Hot dogs were the WORST things to feed a dog, but
by feeding him Mulder was showing more then acceptance. He was
showing a certain camaraderie. He'd fed Ishy last night too. Scully shook
her head, she was starting to think as if she planned on keeping the dog. 

After an hour long walk, spent mostly in silence they made their way to the
basketball court where the game was going to be played.

Four people were already there, dressed like Mulder in baggy shorts and
muscle shirts. Usually no one would approach Mulder and Scully for a
while, but Ishy seemed to bridge the invisible line between them and the
other agents. Agent Stiles approached first, crouching to pet and stroke the
dog.

"I didn't know you had a dog Dana." He peered at the animal's side. "He's a
beautiful animal. What happened to him?"

"I didn't see. My guess is a hit and run." Scully held herself stiffly but
managed to be polite. 

"What's his name?" Agent Heckman asked as he to bent to fondle the dog,
who appeared to glory in the attention.

"Ishmael." Scully looked sideways at Mulder. What was it with dogs,
children and pregnant women that made people think public touching -
much less without permission - was allowed?

"Hey Mulder I heard Forensics roped Collins into playing with them. I
think they are getting nervous." Stiles smirked. Collins was six foot five.

"Yeah well maybe we should be nervous. Collins is good." Mulder
shrugged.

By then more people were showing for the game. Mulder capped the
gatoraid he'd bought earlier, handing it to Scully to hold for later before
moving onto the court. Scully stayed put, and was soon joined by about
two dozen wives, girlfriends and agents who just wanted to watch and pull
for their favorite group.

Ishy drew quite a bit of attention. He only seemed to get annoyed by it
when people obstructed his view of the game though. Dana almost
laughed. You would almost think the dog was actually paying attention.

                                     #####

Cook scowled as he finished the last call. They had six possibles in shelters
in DC and the surrounding areas. Simms had dispatched men to check out
each of them. Webb sat across from him and was once again looking over
the classifieds. No leads at all from any of the Veterinary clinics. Trying to
find one dog in such a populated area was proving next to impossible. 

Webb was chewing on his mustache again as he tossed one paper into the
garbage and reached for another. Cook shook his head. He really didn't
know why he was on this case. His area of expertise was finding PEOPLE
who didn't want to be found. A dog just wasn't worth the effort. And it
certainly wouldn't be smart enough to change it's identity, no matter what
Webb said.

"We got any pictures of the dog from Doddard's place yet? We could
spread lost dog posters if we had a single picture." Cook asked as he
removed his glasses to rub at his eyes.

"Nope. None." Webb was pissed too. He wasn't about to tell Webb that
someone had been through the Vet's house and office before the search unit
and cleaned out all the photo albums and left some suspiciously empty
spots on the wall and mantle. SOMEONE was protecting the dog.
Doddard's daughter was being watched. But she hadn't gotten to her
father's place until after the sweep team had been through.

So who were they up against? The owner of another dog or someone just
in on the secret? Whoever it was was smart and knew what they were
doing. And he couldn't let Cook know that, thus making his 'partner' even
more of a hindrance.

                                     #####

After Scrappy admitted he had completely lost the trail they had returned
to the motel to review their options. That had led Lem here.

He sat with Lisa Doddard 

Scrappy was back at their motel. Lem knew Lisa would be watched, and
showing up at her doorstep with a retriever would have been plain stupid.

Lem knew methods of surveillance all too well. So far the only spoken
words between he and Lisa were reminiscences about her father,
condolences, plans for the funeral and other such boring details. What was
happening on a one subject notebook in front of them was what really
counted though.

Another conversation entirely. He tried to offer her some reassurances, but
they both knew any promises would be empty. Lisa knew all about Buster,
he had been her friend as much as he was her father's. She gave Lem a list
of all the places she could think of where Buster might go in writing.

"So is your Uncle coming in from Cleveland for the services?" Lem
scribbled quietly, 'They will have searched Joe's place.'

"Yes. He and Aunt Carol should be here by tomorrow." She scribbled
beneath his note, 'They didn't get anything. Dad had some friends who
knew the truth. They cleaned the place out as soon as they heard about the
accident on a police scanner they have.'

"Then you won't be alone. Good, that's good Lisa. You need people
around you now." His eyes met hers. Those words were full of meaning.
'Who? They could be borrowing trouble.'

She nodded then read his note and wrote a reply as she spoke. "Don't
worry, I'll be surrounded by family and friends, at least for a little while."
'No names. I wish I could but they value their own privacy Lem. Sorry.
Just know that they are careful.'

Lem wanted to shout at her, to demand she tell him who else was in this.
He hated not knowing what cards he was holding. But he also knew when
NOT to push. He nodded.

He left Lisa's house with the notebook and a heavy heart. Despite the list of
people Buster knew and might trust he didn't have much hope. Buster was
too smart to go anywhere predictable.

                                     #####

It was the last four minutes of the game and VC was leading over
Forensics by only three points. Dana tried not to cheer as she watched
Mulder steal the ball out from under Collins and head up the court with it.
Pendrell blocked him and Mulder passed the ball to Heckman who scored
an additional two for their side.

No sooner was the ball through the hoop then Forensics took control of hit
again. It was Danny who made the basket that raised Forensic's score by
two points once more. Two minutes to go and only a three point
difference. The spectators around Dana and Ishmael were shouting loudly
now, urging on their teams at top volume. Ishy jumped up onto the bench
next to Dana and began barking, adding his voice to the fray, much to the
amusement of all.

In the end it was indeed Collins who made the difference. Forensics scored
six points in two minutes managing to win over VC.

The teams shook hands (although some of the handshakes appeared
strained) and broke up. All around Dana money was switching hands as
friendly wagers were payed off. She sighed as she pulled a five dollar bill
from her pocket and held it up. Agent Jenkins took it with a grin. 

"No hard feelings Scully, I've seen Collins play before." He smiled without
rancor and wandered off.

Scully held out the remainder of Mulder's Gatoraid as he approached and
he downed it quickly. He mopped his face with his damp shirt. 

"So who were you rooting for?" He tossed the empty bottle into a trash
can. 

"Shut up Mulder, you cost me five bucks." She started heading back to her
car.

                                     #####

She drove home where Mulder retrieved his own car and left to per sue his
own weekend activities, whatever they may be. After feeding Ishmael she
decided she had put off the inevitable long enough. She picked up the
phone and began to dial the papers once again. 

"Yes I'd like to place an ad..."

Ishy was in her face once more. His paw firmly on the hang up button.
"Stop it boy." She pushed him lightly away and began to redial. The phone
went dead.

Scully looked down to see the retriever with the phone cord in his mouth.
He had pulled it from the jack in the wall. It took her a moment to realize
what he'd done, and with that realization she felt her chest tighten, and her
throat close.

The dog had been handing up on her attempts to place ads since last night
and now this... how far could you push coincidence? The dog puling the
cord had not been an accident, it had been quiet deliberate. But how would
a dog know the cord worked the phone? Her mind was reeling and she felt
dizzy. This was not happening. This could not be happening.

Ishy disappeared into the kitchen and brought her the morning paper. Just
the front section. He placed it in her lap and pawed at it, whining.

"What the hell?" He kept pawing at one place on the paper. A report of the
double murder of an Annapolis couple. Scully tossed the paper away. Ishy
brought it back and pawed at the same area, the same article. Shaking, she
read the slightly smeared words, not wanting to acknowledge why. No
clues so far in the double murder. Theft was not the reason. There was a
passing mention of the killer possibly using a classified ad about a found
dog to gain entry to the house. The dog was not found.

"This has to be an aberration." She dropped the paper. "It's not like he can
really understand. I've just been hanging around Mulder too much. I'm
starting to think like him. Next thing you know I'll suspect him of playing
that tape this morning.

Ishy padded to the stereo and hit a button with his nose. The tape player
opened and he gently withdrew the tape and brought it to her, dropping it
in her lap.

He's smart, very smart. Well trained. "Are you a show dog? Part of an
act?" She wondered aloud. "You can't really understand can you? Let's face
it if you understood me you'd bring me the tape case."

The dog whuffed and went to the rack of cassettes and cd's next to the
stereo, picking up the open tape case and bringing it over to her. It was the
case for the Hendrix tape.

"Um... How about something by Loreena McKennit?" Scully started to
laugh. This was impossible, this was insane.

Ishy went to the rack and appeared to study the selection there before
pawing at a section until some of the cd's moved forward a bit. Then he
grasped one case in his teeth and dropped "Mask and Mirror" into her lap.

Scully looked at the cd dumbly for a moment then reached for her cell
phone instinctively, hitting the first speed dial button.



Chapter 7. 
------------

"We have a responsibility to stand watch over one another, we are
watchers, all of us, watchers, guarding against the darkness. You've taught
me that we're all needed, even those who sometimes think we're worthless,
plain and dull. If we love, and allow ourselves to be loved... well, a person
who loves is the most precious thing in the world, worth all the fortunes
that ever were. That's what you taught me, fur face, and because of you I'll
never be the same." 
  ~~ Nora Cornell (Hyatt) to Einstein The Dog
  ~~"WATCHERS" - by Dean R. Koontz. (used without permission) 

                                  #####

Mulder toweled off from his shower and pulled on a pair of boxers before
noticing that the light on his answering machine was blinking. He hit the
play as he pulled on a pair of jeans.

BEEP."Mulder, call us. There is something you should know concerning
the matter you were inquiring about." Mulder recognized Langly's voice.
There were no other messages.

He picked up the phone and dialed the number from memory. 

"Hello, make it good and fast." 

"Frohike, it's Mulder." Mulder sat down to begin tieing his sneakers.

"Mulder? Hold on, I'll get Byers on the second line..."

Mulder sighed when he heard the other line being picked up. "Ok guys,
what the hell is this about?"

"Hey Mulder. You ever heard of Banodyne Laboratories?" Byers sounded
excited.

Mulder frowned and began playing with his bottom lip. "Ummm... They
went under ten years ago. They did recombinant DNA research right?"

"Yes, and top secret Defense contracts as well. Any idea WHY they went
under ten years ago?" Frohike must have picked up one of the other lines.

"Well officially they lacked funds and their research wasn't going anywhere
Especially after a lab fire that wiped out a lot of their research projects.
Unofficially there are rumors of an escaped experiment or two getting out
and killing people." Mulder pulled on a black tee shirt.

"Two experiments Mulder both part of something called the Francis
Project. So named for St. Francis of Assissi, patron of animals. They were
working on genetically building the perfect spies and the perfect killing
machine." Byers was almost gloating over the phone line.

"So they got out and killed a bunch of people. They tried to sweep it under
the rug. I think I have a file on it at the office somewhere. The NSA
claimed the killings were done by a serial killer. But killers like that don't
just suddenly stop." Mulder rubbed his eyes. Same old story. Same old
song and dance. "So what did this have to do with..." 

"We have sources that tell us that they managed to recover the body of one
of the experiments. A creature called The Outsider. Nasty piece of work
that. They figure part of it's genetic building blocks was baboon and canine.
It was what ripped all those people apart. It was killed by a lucky civilian
when it attacked him and his wife in their home. The whole story gets
confusing there. But the second experiment was never recovered. The guy
who killed the thing, a Samuel Hyatt, reported the second experiment dead
as well. This one was simply referred to as The Dog. It appears this killing
machine was tracking the Dog across country for the sole purpose of
killing it. The Hyatt's had adopted the Dog, most likely totally ignorant of
what they had. But they got attached enough that after this Outsider thing
killed their pet they refused to hand over the body, and threatened to let the
public know what really happened if they were pressed on the issue."

"This story has a point I hope." Mulder strapped on his watch.

Frohike laughed from his extension. "Mulder there is pretty strong
evidence that the Hyatts lied. That they knew what they had and were
protecting it. Their house was set up like a fortress, as if expecting this
Outsider thing to show up for a showdown. The Dog was the spy half of
the equation, genetically altered to be smart. HUMAN smart, yet still look
like a dog. Now it's been ten years, and most of the Hyatt's friends have all
got themselves golden retrievers, the breed of The Dog. Our sources tell us
it's suspected that not only did The Dog live, but that his intelligence breeds
true. One of the Hyatt's friends was a Veterinarian, and through him they
met another vet named Joseph Doddard." Frohike paused."Joe Doddard's
car was run off the road right outside of Annapolis. Hit and run. Killed him
instantly. But Doddard had a dog."

"A retriever?" Mulder felt the hairs along the back of his neck rise.

"Yes. Buster was it's name. It was in the car with him when he left his
daughter's the night he died, but there was no sign of it at the scene of the
accident. We have it on good authority some idiot wants to rebuild the
Francis project and has decided to see if The Dog had really died. If not
they want one of it's offspring to use as their experimental base." Byers had
joined the conversation and didn't sound happy. "I know your partner
would never believe this Mulder, but if our inside information is right this
Dog and it's descendents are just as intelligent as any human. If they exist
they are staying well hidden. Think about it. A race of Dogs possessing
intelligence equal to ours, possibly complex emotions and a sense of
morality if the rumors we've heard are true."

Mulder grinned. This whole thing was almost beyond HIS ability to
believe. Yet he knew experiments in recombinant DNA *were* going on...
it *was* possible, if 

"So you think this dog Scully picked up, the one that was acting so
strangely might be a descendant of the original Dog." Before he had a
chance to think about the ramifications his call waiting beeped on his ear.
"Look, I have another call. I'll look into this. But quickly, just what can
these dogs do?"

"Think, reason, possibly even read. The possibilities are endless." Frohike
supplied.

"All right. Thanks guys." Mulder clicked the line over. "Mulder."

"Mulder?" It was Scully and she sounded... odd. There was a tremor to her
voice that had him on his feet in a flash. "Can you come over here?"

"Scully what's wrong?" He grabbed his gun and wallet as he spoke.

"Just... just get over here. I just had something very strange happen."

"Is it the dog? Did the dog do something?" He gripped the receiver tightly.

"Y..yes... how did you know?" 

"Scully, calm down and stay put. I don't think Ishmael is quite what he
appears to be. I don't think he's dangerous. As a matter of fact I think he
may be in some danger himself. Just lock the front door and don't let
anyone in but me, ok?" X

"You know this would be a lot easier if the Twighlight Bark was real."
Lem rubbed his eyes and double checked the map on the bed.

Scrappy sneezed and turned to his laptop.

I AIN'T NO STINKIN' DALMATIAN.

Lem smiled. "Yeah, Dalmatians are cuter and take less coat care."

HAR, HAR. YOU'RE A REGULAR EDDIE MURPHY. 

Lem traced the course Buster's scent had led them yesterday. "Ok he was
wounded, and alone. We tried here with no luck, that leaves this way and
this way."

HE WASN'T BOUND BY ROADS. BEST BET IS HE USED BACK
ALLEYS, YARDS, ANYTHING BUT WHERE HE'D BE EASILY
FOLLOWED.

Johnson had to agree. It made sense. It was what HE would do. "Right. so
we scope the area from here looking for a path a dog could take."

TIRED. RUB MY BELLY. 

The man laughed as Scrappy rolled over to offer it's stomach in a typical
doggy maneuver. It was so easy to forget, no matter how special, how
clever, how smart Scrappy was still, at heart, a dog. He liked to be stroked
and petted, to roll in the grass, to take walks just to trace all the interesting
smells, and to stick his head out a car window.

Giving in to a brief moment where it was just him and his canine friend,
Lem rubbed and scratched Scrappy's belly.

                                     #####

Each of the dogs taken in from the pound had tested negative for signs of
'contamination'. 

"So what if the dog wasn't infected after all? We were told it was only a
possibility." Cook hung up the phone after receiving that bit of joyous
news.

"Then we won't find anything. But we have to be sure." Webb finished a
lost dog poster, sans picture he'd been making up on the computer and
began to print.

                                     #####

Scully had been staring at the dog since she called Mulder. He's stared back
for a while before yawning expressively and curling up to try to nap.
Evidently feeling secure she wasn't going to call the paper in this life time.

She cleared the chair in record speed at the knock at her door. Ishy woke,
shook himself out and appeared to wait patiently.

"Open up Scully, it's me." Mulder's voice came through the wood even as
she looked through the peep hole. She unlocked the door and let him
inside.

"Mulder... Ishmael just..." He held up a hand to silence her for a moment.
There was a curious mix of excitement and fear in Scully's eyes.

Mulder looked into the room at the dog.

"Buster, come here please." Mulder did not gesture or move.

The dog's ears perked up and he walked over then jumped up, balancing his
front paws on Mulder's chest before beginning to lick his face
affectionately.

"Mulder, what the hell is going on?" Scully was actually taking this all very
well, considering she had yet to hear the full story.

"Scully, meet Buster. As I guessed from your call you have discovered that
this pooch is no ordinary dog." Mulder pushed the Dog down and headed
for the living room, leaving Scully no choice but to follow. 

Mulder was once again seated on the couch. Buster sat in front of him,
giving the man his undivided attention.

"Ok until I figure out something better one bark means 'yes' two barks
mean 'no'. Understand?" He spoke to the dog.

A single bark. 

"Have you finally flipped? Have I?" Scully sat on her overstuffed chair
heavily. The dog barked twice.

"Is your name Queequeg?" Mulder asked, to convince Dana beyond a
doubt what was actually happening in her own living room. Two barks.

"Is your name Buster?" One bark. 

"Did my team loose the basketball game this afternoon?" One bark as
Buster cocked his head to the side and almost grinned.

"Can ONE of you tell me what is happening here?" Scully was getting
aggravated that the only one seemingly clueless here was her. She was
more annoyed when Buster barked once to answer her.

"Scully what do you know about recombinant DNA?" Mulder turned his
attention from the wonder before him. He was feeling giddy. It was
incredible, absolutely incredible.



Chapter 8. 
------------

Dana Scully listened to her partner's recital of the Francis Project in a daze.
The scientific, analytical part of her wanted to try to argue. This kind of
genetic manipulation was simply not possible ten years ago, shouldn't be
possible now. However it was possible now. Someone had tampered with
her own genetic code, branching it not that long ago, and it had nearly
killed her. And it had to have been possible ten years ago because Ish...
Buster was sitting here now. Looking at her with big brown eyes full of
apprehension.

"So basically what you are saying is that people are willing to kill to get
their hands on this dog. That they've killed already." Scully met Mulder's
gaze.

Buster nosed the paper, then picked it up in his mouth and lay it on
Mulder's lap, once again pawing the article.

Mulder read it quickly. "My God, Scully, they were combing the lost and
found ads, if your ad had gone through..."

"How did you do that? You did do it didn't you? Canceled the ads." Scully
looked at the dog. She felt so strange talking to an animal, and yet, she
fully expected understanding after the demonstration she'd had earlier there
was no doubt.

Buster barked once then padded across the room to her desk. Using his
nose he moved the chair out from under it then lept up to the padded seat.
His nose once again came into play to turn on the power bar of the
computer. He sat patiently while it booted up.

Scully's face was a mask of shock, Mulder's was lit up like a kid at
Christmas. "You are a HACKER?" Mulder asked incredulous.

Buster pulled a pen from the penholder and began to type using his mouth.
Scully's password was hidden by a asterisk appearing for each letter typed.
The dog used a paw to manipulate the mouse and his nose to click the
e-mail icon. 

YOU NAMED ME ISHMAEL. THE DOG YOU HAD BEFORE WAS
QUEEQUEG. ON HIS DISH. YOU HAD MOBY DICK ON
NIGHTSTAND. NOT A HACKER. BUT CAN PUT 2 AND 2
TOGETHER.

Both agents watched, rapt, as each letter was typed out by the pen in
Buster's mouth. Then Scully actually blushed. Mulder looked at her
quickly, to see if she was sharing this intense sense of wonder, and he saw
that. She was blushing. Scully never blushed.

"I better change my damn password if a dog can figure it out." She
muttered under her breath.

"Scully, don't you get it... we are talking to a dog. He understands us, and
can communicate completely. He can read, he can type. All my life I've
wanted to communicate with other intelligent life." Mulder knelt next to
the chair and looked at Buster in a way that bordered on adoration. "This
isn't want I had expected, not what I was looking for... but... this *IS*
communication with non-human sentient life."

The dog turned once more to the computer.

IS HE ALWAYS LIKE THIS. BECAUSE, I HAVE TO TELL YOU, IF
HE STARTS KISSING MY PAWS I'LL BITE HIM.

Scully laughed. She couldn't help it. She started laughing and she doubled
over from the force of it. Tears streamed down her eyes. Fox Mulder had
just been put in his place... by a DOG. There was a dog typing on her
computer. A dog making wise-ass remarks via her computer. A dog she'd
picked up in her back alley was making jokes on her computer.

Mulder had smiled too, at the joke. He looked at Scully and began to
chuckle a bit. When she kept laughing he began to get a little worried.

"Scully?" She looked at him and managed to pull herself together, wiping
the moisture from her eyes and ignoring that her face hurt from laughing so
much she shook her head. "I'm fine Mulder. It's just... strange. But I'm
fine." She saw the concern in his eyes. "Really." She insisted.

It was Scully who focused them back on Buster. "Could you identify the
people who ran your master off the road?"

JOE NOT MASTER. FRIEND. WOULD YOU ACCEPT A MASTER.

IT WAS DARK. BUT I SAW ONE FACE. HIT HEAD. WAS ALL
MUZZY. NOT SURE I WOULD KNOW RIGHT MAN. 

"But you think they are still after you." It wasn't a question. She reached
out to stroke the soft fur around Buster's neck.

YES. NOT STOP TILL THEY HAVE ME OR ONE OF THE FAMILY.
BAD MEN. WANT TO MAKE OTHER OUTSIDER. WANT TO MAKE
SLAVES OF DOGS AND PUPPIES. WE NOT PROPERTY. YOU
MADE US, BUT WE THINK FOR OURSELVES. WE LIVE, WE
LOVE, WE WANT TO BE FREE. NOT SOMEONE'S EXPERIMENT,
NOT A TEST ANIMAL. DIE FIRST.

The message took five minutes for him to slowly type out. But what it
expressed shook both agents. Not only were these animals, and indeed
Buster had just admitted there were more, not only were they smart, they
were sentient. They were self aware individuals. They understood the
intrinsic principles of right and wrong. Would you accept master? Would
they become slaves, or would they fight for their freedom, their.... rights?

Mulder's eyes met hers over the dog's back. There was a suspicious sheen
to their hazel depths. "Scully, we can't let them catch him. We have to keep
him safe."

Scully couldn't say anything. She stroked Buster's fur, looking at the dog
for a long while before meeting Mulder's eyes once more. She nodded
solemnly. "So where do we start?"

SECRET. IN TEN YEARS WE WILL BE TOO MANY, ALL CAN AND
WILL KNOW ABOUT US. BUT FOR NOW, SECRET IS BEST.
SECRET IS FREEDOM. NO PRESS. NO PUBLIC.

Mulder nodded. His first thoughts HAD been to take this to the press,
blow the lid off the whole mess. But Buster had a point. How many people
would feel threatened by what Buster represented. Mankind was definitely
no longer intellectually superior to everything around it now. It had an
equal. An undisputable equal. True, man had MADE this equal, or at least
the first, but there were still those who would see this as an intrusion on
human sovereignty. An abomination to be wiped out. 

Mulder licked his lips."Do you know of anyone else who knows about
you? Friends to others of your kind?"

YES. I KNOW MANY. BUT NOT GOOD. CANT RISK THEM
FOLLOWING ME TO THEM. TO OTHERS NOT NOW. NOT WHILE I
AM STILL -HOT-.

"But could you give us a name or two? They might have some ideas if we
contacted them. They may be more used to dealing with this." Mulder
insisted.

Five more sentences were added to the computer screen.

SAM-TRAVIS HYATT AND THE FIRST ONE, GREAT GRANDSIRE
EINSTEIN. THEY WERE THE FIRST TO HIDE. BUT THEY ARE
WATCHED. GRANDSIRE MUST PLAY STUPID. PHONE WATCHED
TOO PROBABLY.

                                     #####

Lem followed on Scrappy's heels. The dog may have lost the scent but he
was trying to see things from Buster's point of view. He's gone down
alleys, over and behind dumpster and through people's yards all afternoon.
Lem was getting tired. He was fifty five years old. "I'm gettin to old for this
shit." Was muttered more then once as he tried to squeeze through an area
only a dog, or a crazy black man with a too strong a sense of morality and
conscience would go. 

Earlier had called all the shelters and the pound, every vet in the phone
book giving Buster's description, including the half moon pink mark on his
nose, a detail Lem was certain was missing from the NSA circulations.
He'd found it ironic. Twenty five years, he served and believed in the NSA.
Believed in what he was doing unquestioningly. He had always held public
safety at heart, even when he had thought their ignorance was better as in
his last case with them. Each new death hung on his soul. There were still
good men in the agency, but someone was pulling the strings now.
Someone using his former comrades and friends as puppets. And for the
first time Lemual Johnson was working AGAINST them. He was using
what he knew of the way the NSA operated to out think them. 

He pondered life's ironies once more when Scrappy scuttled under a broken
fence. It was getting dark, and Lem's night vision was not what it used to
be.

"Enough." He panted slightly. "Enough Scraps. I can't see anymore. We'll
pick up here in the morning."

Scrappy poked his squarish head back out the hole he'd disappeared into
seconds before, letting out a soft whuff.

"Look at me, I'm muddy, my clothes are torn from squeezing through chain
fence holes and crawling through a drainage tunnel. I look like a street
person. You are not too pretty yourself." He eyed the muddy dog. "We go
back, get baths and start fresh in the morning. It's been six days, and they
are still looking for him. They haven't caught him so at this point I'll accept
no news is good news."

Scrappy came back into the alley and snorted, but wagged his tail
deliberately. A wag meant yes.

Tired, dirty and feeling slightly defeated they left the alley behind Dana
Scully's apartment to return to the hotel. 



Chapter 9. 
------------

"So do you have some sort of brilliant plan?" Scully's expression dared him
to come up with something. 

Mulder smiled. "I have resources that can deliver an untraceable e-mail to
this Travis Hyatt." 

Now she rolled her eyes. "Mulder if you give Frohike my address I'll shoot
you again."

"Do you seriously think he doesn't know where you live?" 

Buster kept looking from one to the other, trying to make sense of this
conversation.

"Good point. Ok what can it hurt at this point. I suppose you stay with me
until this is all over." She scratched Buster behind the ears.

COULD BE LONG WAIT. 

Scully nodded. "I know. But you have been one of my better house guests
and you don't snore." 

Buster licked her chin.

Mulder used his own phone to put in a call to the Gunmen.

Hidden inside the boards and wires of the desktop computer an
anachronistic transmitter sent along a fine tuned radio signal.

                                     #####

It was only Minutes before a severely bored surveillance team reported in
what they hoped was information to advance them out of their current
assignment. In Ten minutes another phone rang.

"Yes." The man who answered the unlisted number stood surrounded by a
miasma of smoke. He reached out to bring a glass of scotch to his mouth as
he listened to the report.

"I want a retrieval unit sent there immediately. Are you certain they are
aware of what they are dealing with?" He nodded. There were many
reasons he did not want the Mulder boy killed. The risk of his obsession
becoming a crusade, a lingering affection for someone long since lost to
him, his usefulness in the game and even a small sense of respect for his
perseverance. The woman too was a valuable tool, if only for the sway she
held with Mulder. And he half expected that at this point any unfortunate
accidents involving her would make Mulder an even greater threat then he
was, despite his usefulness. "If at all possible take them alive. We can edit
their recollection of events. It has been done before. But procuring the dog
must remain our top priority." He set the phone back down casually. After
all one must maintain one's priorities. In the end the dog, and the future it
represented was much more valuable then his other considerations.

A four man 'retrieval' unit was dispatched immediately. 

                                     #####

Mulder nodded into the receiver, the slight bobbing movement of his head
was a familiar sight and Dana was forcibly reminded of those tacky loose
headed plastic dogs people used to stick in the back window of their cars.
She repressed a smile at the thought.

"Ok are you writing this down?" Mulder looked at Buster. "You have this
guy's e-mail address by any chance?"

DELTAF2COLLINS.COM

"Is the two supposed to be an at?"

YES. THERE ARE TIMES I WOULD LIKE THUMBS.

Dana smiled at the message. Of course, Buster couldn't manipulate the shift
keys.

"Yeah but then you'd look kind of silly." She told him.

"Delta f at collins dot com. Ok send this message. Buster is safe. He is still
hunted. Need instructions on how we should proceed. Is there somewhere
we can take him?" Mulder covered the mouthpiece with his hand, looking
at the dog. "Is there some message we can send that will convince this guy
we are friends? I mean this could be a set up, and he'd be a fool not to
assume it was."

The dog turned to the keyboard STEAMBOAT WILLIE was carefully
typed out.

Mulder spoke into the phone again. "Add to the end of the message the
words Steamboat Willie." Mulder smiled. "This guy a Mickey Mouse fan?"

He listened as Langly read the message back and hung up.

"So... now all we do is wait." Mulder Looked out Scully's window,
suddenly filled with nervous energy. He was quite capable of waiting. It
was part and parcel with his job. But he never did LIKE it.

Mulder frowned. "Scully did you order pizza?"

Buster was off the chair and looking out the window in a second flat. He
whined in the back of his throat. Running back to the computer the dog hit
the escape key then affirmed not saving the screen. 

His actions brought Mulder to instant alert. He pulled his gun from the clip
at his side. "I think this means we have company." 

Scully grabbed her gun and ID as well, then ran for her purse and, almost
as an afterthought she grabbed her laptop.

"Let's go, the back alley."

Mulder nodded and they opened the door to see the 'pizza delivery man'
just coming in the front of the building. Mulder slammed the door closed
and set the lock.

"Shit."

"Bedroom window." She was already headed for the back room when
Mulder saw the first silent explosion next to the door lock. 

Scully had the window open and had leaped out already. He saw Buster's
tail clear the frame when a loud "Freeze!" was shouted behind him.

He had no time to turn and fire, and no time to look where he was going.
The only thing he could do was launch himself through the window and
hope Scully and the dog were clear.

He hit the ground hard on his side. A shooting pain took over his arm and
he'd nearly been blinded when his cheek connected with grass covered
earth. He looked up to see a dark shape filling the window he'd just come
out of when his vision was suddenly filled with red-gold fur. Buster was
placing himself between Mulder and the window.

"Not the dog! Don't hit the dog!" Came from inside the apartment.

A loud crack filled the air and Mulder rolled, completing the move to
regain his feet, knowing he hadn't been hit he looked to see if Buster had.
The dog looked up and Mulder sought cover, only then seeing Scully
aiming at the window from the side, providing cover fire. It had been her
gun he'd heard.

Realization took no more then a second and he quickly scrambled to her
side. Buster followed.

The men were no longer in the window.

Mulder, Scully and Buster ran to Mulder's car, which was closest. They
had just closed the doors when four men poured out of Scully's building.

Mulder floored the gas, peeling out and narrowly missing another car.
Scully looked behind them to see the men running for a pizza van.

"They're going to follow us."

"Of course they are going to follow us." Mulder grumbled. Heading for
I-50. He handed Scully his phone with one hand, while trying to watch the
road as his car moved into the regular traffic patterns. "Hit redial. Tell them
what's going on and see if they can help out."

Scully bit back demanding how THEY were going to help. Who else could
they call? Skinner? If he DID believe them could he actually run
interference on this one? Possible, but not likely on such short notice. 
                                     #####

Twenty minutes later Mulder pulled into a 24 hour quickmart. Thanks to
some specialty drivers training and beltway traffic they had managed to
loose their pursuers, but not for long. The car was most likely tracked
somehow. 

Frohike got out of the driver's side of a old, battered green van. He smiled
at them as they hurriedly exited Mulder's car.

"Please, take care of her. She's a special lady." He looked at Scully.

"Stow it Frohike. She saved my ass back there." Mulder grumbled grabbing
the keys from the smaller, older man.

"Oh, the lovely agent Scully as well, but I was referring to my van. And I
expect a full tank when it gets returned." He called out as Scully held the
door for Buster to climb in. Frohike looked at Buster and seemed to nod.
The dog looked out the window at the man and barked once.

"Thanks. We owe you one." Mulder started the van and began to pull out
as Frohike called after them. "One of these days we'll collect."

Then the small, bespectacled man crossed into the quickmart to peruse the
magazine racks. The was a new edition of Hustler due out today anyway.

It was two minutes before the pizza truck and a nondescript blue ford
pulled in and four people got out to cautiously examine Mulder's
abandoned car. Frohike smiled broadly at the obvious rage and frustration
of the pursuers as someone punched at the hood of Mulder's car.

                                     #####

When they had been driving for a half hour with no sign of their tail Mulder
and Scully began to relax. Mulder flexed the fingers of his right arm.
Nothing broken, but he was sure the entire arm was bruised, as well as his
hip. If the dull throbbing of his face was any indication, his cheek was as
well.

It was when they had begun to relax that Dana noticed the note taped to
the glove compartment.

"Look at this, it's addressed to you." She pulled the envelope away. 

"So read it. I doubt the guys are writing me love letters." He smiled when
Buster shoved his head between the bucket seats to try and read over
Scully's shoulder.

"It says message delivered. And since we doubt you kept sufficient
emergency cash for spur of the moment flight, open the glove
compartment. Consider it a loan." Scully opened the small door in the dash
and grinned, pulling out a roll of bills. She removed the rubber band and
gasped. "Mulder there is three thousand dollars here. Do I even WANT to
know how they have this kind of money at hand?"

"Probably not. Scully they are prepared to cut loose and head for a new
office at a moment's notice. They think THEY keep tabs on them. Who
knows, the guys could be right. I think that's part of their own 'head for the
hills' fund." He kept his eyes glued to the road. He hadn't expected that.
The guys had pulled through for him better then he'd imagined. "You
realize your apartment had to have been bugged." 

Scully placed the cash in the envelope and shoved it into her purse as she
nodded.

"Well this van is guaranteed clean. So we don't have to worry about that."

"But Mulder, where are we going? Do you have any idea?"

He nodded. "I know a place, someplace that can't be linked to either of us."

"Where?" 

"A friend of mine from Oxford has a ski shalet in Vermont. It's off season
and he's currently in Greece. But I know where he keeps a key."



Chapter 10. 
-------------

Mulder had been taking back roads for the past half hour. He finally pulled
over at a gas station mini mart and stopped the van.

"What's going on?" Scully sat up a bit straighter. "Where are we?" 

"West Virginia. We are a good forty miles out of our way. Call Skinner.
His phone is most likely bugged, and they might track my cell phone. So
use that pay phone. Tell him what you want." He shrugged with one
shoulder only. "Meanwhile I'm going to get some aspirin and an iced tea.
And YOU are going to drive out of here." He opened the drivers side door
without wincing and congratulated himself. His bruised side was out of her
view for now. But he wasn't going to be able to keep driving with his arm,
hip and face throbbing like they were.

Buster whined softly.

"Ok, I'll bring out some water and cups how's that, and some beef jerky."
He looked back at the dog and heard Scully's sudden intake of breath.
"That bad huh?"

She glared at him, "Why didn't you tell me you were hurt?"

"I'll live. Besides this is nothing compared to how my hip and shoulder feel
right now." He offered her a slight smile. "We have to be out of here in less
then three minutes from when you hang up, so don't call till I come out.
And you! Lay low fur face. Don't let anyone see you."

Buster barked once and moved to the back of the van.

Mulder was limping slightly when he entered the small convenience store.
He picked up several Snapple iced teas, a gallon of spring water, a pack of
large plastic cups, and some styrofoam disposable bowls before grabbing
two bottles of aspirin and a handful of beef jerky. Adding a bag of David's
sunflower seeds and another of granola mix he watched the cashier ring it
up. 

He was very conscious of the store security camera, and deliberately tried
to keep his face away from it, except for two times he made sure he was
seen. Hopefully it would look accidental. This is where he WANTED them
to focus. To the west of where they were headed, not the opposite
direction, THAT was too obvious.

"I hope the other guy looks worse." The clerk grinned as he handed Mulder
his change and the purchases in a bag.

"Yeah well, she LOOKED eighteen." The kid at the counter chuckled as
Mulder left. 

Scully saw him return and dropped her quarters into the phone. How the
hell was she going to explain this one? We are on the run with Super Dog? 
                                     #####

Mulder first downed three aspirin with half a bottle of tea, then tore open
the bowls and poured some water into one.

"Service with a smile." He winced as he had to lean on the wrong hip to
place it on the floor in the back of the van. Buster started lapping the water
at once and Mulder took a good look at the back of the vehicle. 

There was a made up twin mattress back there, and a shelf bolted to the
interior holding some electronic equipment. A camera, one he recognized
as being one of Frohike's older, less sophisticated models, hung from a
hook. There had most likely been more in there, but the guys had cleaned
out anything they would need.

Scully got in the driver's seat and adjusted it forward several notches before
starting the engine.

"So what did you say?" He offered her a second tea and the bag of granola.

"That we had located a witness to a murder. The victim was tied to illegal
government testing of recombinant DNA. An attempt was made on our
lives, and we were not about to return till the witness was safe." She took
the tea and downed half her own before handing it back and starting the
engine.

"All that and not a single lie?" Mulder was impressed.

"I don't lie Mulder. Now where?" She pulled away from the small store.

"Now we go twenty more miles in this direction and start looking for a
mall. We didn't exactly pack for the occasion. We pick up some essentials
and clothes quick, make sure a few cameras pick us up and get out as fast
as humanly possible."

                                     #####

"Seems we have a break." Webb slapped two pictures down in front of
Cook. "These two have the dog. They know he has been exposed, may
even know it's a biological weapon. They must have seen dollar signs,
because instead of turning him in they took off."

Cook picked up the dossiers attached the enlarged service style photos of a
man and a woman. "Christ Webb, their Feds. You are telling me a pair of
Feds are going to try to sell government secrets?"

Frank shrugged. "They might know some buyers. The guy isn't exactly
stable, and his record leaves a lot to be desired. Look at it this way, your
job just got easier. You said you knew how to track PEOPLE. You're the
best at it. So... Track."

Cook glared. He was the best, but Frank was making his guts roil. All sorts
of internal alarms were going off. But what could he do? Simms had
authorized it. Simms was the regional head. He knew what he was doing.
Cook sighed and set to work at his computer. First he needed the bank
records of both agents, and any plastic they might have. He doubted they'd
be stupid enough to use anything traceable though. No matter how wrong
his gut told him this case was, his heart sang. THIS was his element. He
managed to find 98% of anyone he attempted to track. Sure it might take a
few months, the last case he had closed had taken three years But his
success rate was still nothing to mess with. 
                                     #####

Lem toweled Scrappy dry and was about to clean the dog hair from the tub
when the phone rang.

He answered it on the third ring. "Johnson." He smiled. "Good to hear
from you son. How's Nora and the kids?" He saw Scrappy cock his head at
him. "And the eldest?"

The tone of inquiry could easily mean his friends eldest child, nine years old
now. However, he was referring to the eleven year old member of the
family.

"He says Hi Scrappy." Lem smiled at the dog who nodded and went in
search of the bowl of dry food that had been left out for him to munch.

"Are you sure? Travis, it could be a trick." He paused. "I see. Did you
reply?"

Lem sat down on the edge of the motel bed. "Shit. Yes, I'll watch my back.
Are you sure you haven't been compromised? Maybe you should change
your account... All right, all right. You always did know what you were
doing. And thanks. I'm gonna need it." Lem hung up the phone.

"Travis got an e-mail from an anonymous sender. It appears genuine.
Buster was safe and had found some allies. But when Travis tried to get
back to this sender he was informed by whatever people acted as a medium
that Buster and his friends were in trouble and not likely to be found
anytime soon. The situation is hot." 

Scrappy lay his head on Lem's leg, whining softly.

"It'll be ok. We have to comb the papers looking for anything unusual in
our search area." Lem patted the dog's head as much to reassure himself as
his friend.

                                     #####

Scully had managed to finish first. She managed to force a smile when
Mulder tossed a load of bags into the back of the van. 

"I don't want to see our credit card bills at the end of the month." She tried
to judge how badly Mulder was hurt by the stiffness of his walk. The
aspirin appeared to have worked, and if it were really threatening he would
tell her she was certain. She had the sneaking suspicion he was trying to
tough it out. Be the 'big macho man'. It irritated her. What irked her more
was knowing there really wasn't much time to get a good look at him, nor
could she do anything more then give him the aspirin he was already
taking. Her medical bag was back at her apartment. First rest stop after this
she was going to check out his shoulder and hip if she had to hold him at
gunpoint. "Yeah but better them than our cash supply. Besides I want them
to know we're here. From here on out it's cash only." 

Scully nodded and headed for the nearest highway leading north.

"I did spend cash on a dog collar, and some bowls and food for you big
guy." Scully smiled into the rear view mirror. "AND some extra on a little
plan of mine."

Mulder frowned. "What do you plan on doing? Turn him into a
schnauzer?"

"Close." She reached between their seats and handed Mulder a bag from a
drug store. "I plan on changing his breed."

Buster had moved forward and looked on curiously as Mulder pulled the
boxes out of the bag. The dog Barked once. A Yes. 

Mulder smiled at what he held in his hands. He had to admit HE never
would have thought of it. Five boxes of Ms. Clairol's Midnight Black
Cream Color.

"Dana Scully beautician of canines, by appointment only." Mulder grinned
at her. She smiled back. Buster looked back and forth between the two of
them before letting out another single bark and nuzzling Scully's arm gently
enough to not throw off her driving.

                                     #####

Safe, they were safe for now. And that was all that mattered. He liked he
idea of turning into a black lab. It had never been tried before. It ought to
be an interesting procedure at least.

Sitting back to munch on another piece of beef jerky Buster contemplated
his newfound friends. Good people. Without a doubt. They were risking a
lot for him. As much as the First Family had risked for the First Dog. It
made him feel all warm inside. He hadn't hesitated to jump between the
man and the bad men with guns. It was natural, instinctive, a friend helping
a friend. 

But watching these two humans talk, their body language, the subtle
changing of their scents as well as the communication with their eyes, he
became convinced that for all the good help they were giving him he would
return it. These two humans belonged together, yet they kept acting like
litter mates. It was wrong. All wrong. He'd seen the connection between
them from the moment the man with the good animal name walked in the
door. 

Yes, Buster decided then and there he would repay their kindness and
friendship. He would help them see what was in front of their pathetically
short noses.



Chapter 11. 
--------------

The first rest stop was in Pennsylvania. Scully pulled over into a rest
station and Mulder sat up a bit straighter. 

"What's wrong?" 

"Nothing. Into the back with you. I want to see the damage." Scully's glare
left Mulder gave a long suffering sigh and moved, a bit stiffly into the back
of the van.

"Do you have designs on my virtue? I think I saw you eyeing up this
mattress." Mulder eased down into the lumpy bedding. 

Buster moved right next to his uninjured side and sat to watch the
proceedings with interest.

"Are you kidding? It's Frohike's. God only knows what alive in there. Let
me see." She started to yank his tee shirt off.

Mulder yelped as the sudden movement jarred his shoulder. "Jeez Scully, I
thought you'd go for a nice slow seduction."

"Shut up Mulder." She frowned at what she saw. It was still daylight, and
the sun came in through the windows to give her a good view. Impressive,
his shoulder was slightly swollen, and a lovely shade of black and blue.
"Can you move your fingers?"

Mulder flexed his fingers then rotated his wrist before bending his arm. His
elbow and the side of his arm were also bruised, but not as deeply as his
shoulder. "See nothing broken." He moved his shoulder, with obvious
discomfort, but he had full range of motion. 

She nodded. "We should have gotten some ice packs though. Let's see
your leg."

"Not until you buy me dinner first."

Buster started to wag his tail and both agents got the feeling he was highly
amused by the exchange. "Don't YOU start." Scully warned him. The dog
had the good sense to lay down and look cowed. But he also appeared to
be grinning.

"Mulder, I've seen you in your boxers before. Now let me see how bad it
is."

Mulder reached for his tee shirt and pulled it back on, a simple defensive
gesture. "Look, I can move my toes, bend my knee, Nothing's broken. It's
more of the same. A bitch of a bruise. Looking at it isn't going to make it
any better. I've taken the aspirin. And quite frankly if I take my jeans off
I'm not sure I'll get them back on, ok? Let it drop." Mulder petted Buster's
shoulder. "Think you can get into the glove compartment and bring out the
Pennsylvania road map?"

The dog got up and moved to the front of the van. Nudging the glove
compartment button he popped the compartment open to reveal a stack of
road maps. Most likely one for every state in the union as well as a few for
Canada and Mexico. Using his nose he nudged through them until he found
the requested paper. He brought it to the humans in back.

Mulder took it with a terse "Thanks" before grabbing a pen from the shelf
attached to the interior wall. He stopped before tracing their route. Yep,
the electronic equipment was a police/fire scanner.

"Ok from here you drive to..." He traced their way in pen on the map. They
had alot of road hours ahead of them.

                                     #####

Webb looked over Cook's shoulder at the surveillance videos from a strip
mall in West Virginia. The two of them were in a back room of the mall's
Menswear store. Cook had managed to trace the two Feds here. They had
been using their credit cards here, prolifically. Cook had a complete list of
purchased items. Everything, from toiletries to clothing, just the kinds of
things expected to be bought by two people on the run with no time to
pack.

The tape showed a store full of people, it was hard to pick out the target
until, briefly his face showed on the camera. It looked like he had been in a
fight. And while Webb knew what had happened he let Cook draw his own
conclusions. 

"Ok so why are they headed Northwest? Family? Anyone suspected to be
connected with the Dogs?"

Cook shook his head, but noted the use of the plural word - dogs.
"Neither. This is a diversion." He narrowed his eyes at the video, rewinding
the tape again to review Agent Mulder making his purchases at the
register.

"What do you mean it's a diversion? These receipts show they are doing
something entirely expected."

Cook snorted in disgust. "Exactly. Look I read the dossiers you gave me.
These two are smart, very smart. I think they might have been able to come
in here, make their purchases and get out without ever getting a single face
shot in the surveillance cameras. But they didn't. It looks like they are
avoiding the cameras, but they STILL give us at least a half dozen good
looks at them. And they had to know the credit cards would be traced."

"So they are leaving a false trail." Webb chewed the ends of his mustache
again. "And we are back at square one."

Cook watched Webb leave the small back room and frowned. He'd done
some checking. Neither of these agents were officially being charged with a
crime. More and more alarm bells were going off in his head. Whatever he
had gotten involved in he was now certain it wasn't the search for a
diseased dog. He'd read the paper this morning. He'd seen about the
murdered couple. He had no doubt that Webb had slaughtered two
innocent people without the slightest remorse. And he had the sinking
suspicion that his superiors knew about it. Who could he tell, without
finding himself in a fatal 'accident' as well?

He was skating on thin ice and he knew it. He wanted to know exactly
what was going on, what he was being used for and why. He knew Webb
wasn't about to give him any answers, and he was swiftly loosing faith in
Director Simms. This had gotten way out of control in a short period of
time. All he could do now was play dumb, pretend he wasn't piecing things
together. And since Agents Mulder and Scully were not charged with any
crime, and no other agency was looking for them then they were just as
likely innocent bystanders as well. He had HAD to point out the credit card
usage, and he HAD to point out the misdirection he felt was taking place, if
only to give himself credence. Show he was being a good little NSA man
and doing his job. But if he could do nothing else he was bound and
determined to give those two fugitives time. Time to make whatever move
they had planed. And he hoped they had a plan, because he wasn't sure how
much time he could buy them... 

                                     #####

Scully had been at the wheel for the first six hours. They had stopped at a
drive through for dinner and then Mulder taken the wheel. His side still
hurt, but he could manage, besides, he'd gotten some sleep while Scully
drove, and he knew they wouldn't reach their destination until around three
am.

It was actually three thirty when he pulled into the driveway of the wooden
A frame ski chalet with a wrap around deck. The entire front of the
building was covered in windows. He'd been here six times over the years,
usually to enjoy the peace and quiet, to do a little skiing and enjoy Lenny's
hospitality. Lenny Kravitz had always said the door was open to any of the
small circle of friends who wanted to use the place as a getaway. Lenny
had meant for the guys to bring wives or girlfriends up here. Oh well, who
needed the refuge more, Donny or Frank to escape with a girl they wanted
to impress or Buster and Scully? 

Scully was asleep in the passenger seat, and he was loath to wake her. She
looked so peaceful in the pale moonlight. He couldn't make out Buster in
the back, but he was aware of the Dog's regular breathing, indicating he,
too had fallen asleep.

Mulder reached over to touch Scully's shoulder. She woke in an instant.

"Huh?"

"We're here. Come on, help me gather the stuff out of the back and wake
up beeping beauty back there."

Buster yawned once and regained his feet, following the humans up onto
the wooden deck.

"This is a nice place." Scully could make out alot in the full moonlight. 

"Wait till the sun's out. It gets better." Mulder removed the glass hood of
the wall sconce porch light and retrieved a key. He opened the front door
without a problem.

"Where are the beds? I'm sorry Mulder but at this hour I'd rather explore in
the morning."

"It is morning Scully." He flipped on a light switch. "Upstairs. Just look in
the rooms till you find one with a bed."

She took her bags and trudged up the stairs with a barely discernable
"Night Mulder."

He saw Buster had flopped down in front of the empty fireplace. He knew
how they felt. But first things first. 

He went to the gourmet refrigeration unit in the large kitchen to the back
of the house. He was in luck. There were five packs just sitting in there.
Since most of Lenny's friends came here to ski in the winter keeping ice
packs on hand for sprains and strains was prudent. Mulder grabbed two of
the cold blue bags and shook them up, feeling the gel was still good he
took them with him in to the couch. He really didn't feel like climbing stairs
anyway.



Chapter 12. 
-------------

Rain. It was raining. He could hear it faintly outside. Cautiously he rose off
the couch, amazingly free of pain. The sound of shattering glass upstairs
and a scream of terror sent spears of ice through his gut, up his spine. He
ran up the stairs. 

"Scully!" God, not her. Let her be ok, please just let her...

Low animal sounds, and a soft canine whimper came from behind the door
to his left. Without hesitation he kicked it in. 

The room was dark, only the moonlight illuminating the rain that blew in
through the shattered full wall window, the curtains whipping the the wind
like the flapping of some great leathery wings. Like a dragon, a dragon of
death.

Buster lay on the floor in a pool of his own blood. The dog's legs still
twitched and it whined low in it's throat. It's too intelligent eyes met his,
begging for forgiveness. No words were needed. 'I'm sorry.' those eyes
said, 'forgive me. I'm sorry.' Before the light, the brilliance of which rivaled
that of humans faded from those eyes.

Mulder looked up, there was something hunched over the bed. It was a
shadow, but a bolt of lightening briefly outlined a hunched nightmare with
wickedly curved talons. He aimed his gun at it's back, the grip cold against
his palm. His hand cramping from the need to fire. To kill it. The thing was
leaning over something... doing something. It had killed Buster... where
was Scully? Where was...

The thing turned. In another flash of lightening his world crumbled. Scully
lay sprawled across the bed. Blood was everywhere. Her throat was gone,
and her torso slashed. The thing was smiling at him, it's teeth still dripping
with Scully's lifeblood. 

"NOOoooooooo!" He fired, his finger jerking the trigger, emptying the clip
fully into the creature, kept jerking the trigger when the only sound coming
from the gun was a repetitive clicking.

The thing had jerked with the impact of the bullets, but did not go down.
It's eyes blazed in rage. Mulder let his eyes fall on the still, mangled form
on the bed and lowered his gun.

As the thing leapt for him he raised no defense. Die. He wanted to die...
Before he felt the agony of the razor claws ripping through his stomach the
creature's countenance blurred, melting into the face of that smoking
bastard....

Mulder sat up suddenly, the air rushing from his lungs. He hurt. His
shoulder, his hip and his cheek throbbed dully. A hand instinctively went to
his abdomen. Only to smooth over the cotton of his tee shirt. Outside the
sun was shining. No rain, no darkness. The clock on the TV across from
him told him that it was 9:17 in the morning. How the hell had he slept so
late?

Upstairs he heard the sounds of the shower. Well, sort of. It sounded
weird, like rain on plastic. Rain... Ok, you're a psychologist you figure it
out, he thought to himself. Horror stories of the thing created with the
original Dog, anxiety over what he and Scully had been dragged into this
time and the sounds of the water upstairs had combined to give him a nice
new nightmare for his growing collection.

He stood up stiffly. The ice pacs had long since warmed up so he returned
them to the fridge before making his way up the stairs. The water from the
shower WAS running, but the door was open.

He peered through the doorway to see one of the more amusing sights in
his life. Scully had lined the tub with a shower curtain before donning a
plastic rain poncho and a pair of rubber gloves. She had Buster completely
coated in black dye. She ran a brush through his fur, making sure he was
well coated as she rinsed away the dye under the detachable shower head.
He didn't know HOW she had managed to get the fur so close to his eyes,
nose and lips, but the dog was completely covered. He couldn't help the
chuckle that escaped. After his nightmare this was just too much.

Scully turned and arched a brow at him. "It lives. Laugh now, but YOU are
cleaning this up. I did my part."

Buster looked at Mulder accusingly. But accusing him of what? Leaving
Scully to do this task on her own? Allowing poor Buster to be coated in
black goo? Whatever it was he just nodded. "Sure. I'll clean up. But who
gets the shower after him?"

Scully glared this time. "*I* do. You slept the morning away. I've been
busy. I get dibbs. You get to take Buster out so the two of you can get the
lay of the land or whatever male bonding guys do."

"Oh joy. Hey Buster, there's a video store in town about twenty miles from
here. Want to go see if they have any nature shows on the mating habits of
dogs?" He grinned until the wet, yet unstained washrag hit him right in the
chest. 

"You are NOT getting him into doggie porn. Take a hike."

"Real subtle Scully." Mulder leaned against the sink as she went on full
rinse. The odor of wet dog mingled with the ammonia tang of the hair dye
to make the smell in the bathroom something to remember. If he was lucky
by the time she was done the air would have cleared. 

When all the water ran clear Buster was a black dog. He looked like a
golden Retriever/ Black Lab crossbreed. His fur was too long for a pure
lab.

The dog started to shiver until Scully spoke sharply. "Don't you DARE!
I'm going to squeeze you dry, towel you off then turn the hair dryer on you
again. But you are NOT going to shake and soak this bathroom. Got that?"

Buster hung his head and woofed once, softly.

                                     #####

Lem watched the cars ahead of him on the interstate. He was only mildly
disappointed that they hadn't spotted him following them. Sure he was
trained for this, but it still showed a lack of attentiveness. Scrappy whined
at the window kept closed at his side. He knew why he couldn't stick his
head out, but it vexed him none the less.

Having lost all trace of Buster, Lem had told his friend that following the
hunters was the next best thing. If they DID find the missing Dog and those
who were helping him then Lem might be able to run interference. Scrappy
had agreed. The two he had to stick to were up ahead in a black van.
Hardly original. The taller of the two gave Lem the creeps. He'd picked
them up at the strip mall they'd been searching based on his own
investigation into the finance records of Mulder and Scully. What he'd
discovered about the two so far was impressive. He just hoped they could
lay low for a while.

X 

Webb handed Cook the pages he'd just received through the portable FAX.
Lists of every known friend, relative and acquaintance of the agents they
were after.

"This is alright, but they will expect us to track their friends and families.
They are too clever for that. They'll stick to cheap hotels and the like.
Places where no one asks questions, probably ones that allow pets. I want a
list of every hotel at or under $40 a night for a double in this and the
surrounding states. I want a complete list of this pairs past cases, especially
in these states, aiming at where they stayed. The ones that allow pets go on
top of this list. Let's see if I can out think them."

Webb looked at Cook strangely, and Cook kept his face carefully neutral.

"All right, we'll get on it."

Cook sighed. How to make a move and countermove. He actually thought
smart as these two were they would assume he'd think just what he'd told
Webb, and so use some family refuge. He was reminded of a funny sketch
he'd seen in 'The Princess Bride', trying to out think the opponent by
guessing what glass held the poison. It was a whole big 'I know that you
know that I know that you know' game that could go on infinitum. So if he
made the wrong choice and actually DID track them down? After all he
couldn't obviously be misleading. Well then he hoped he could get them out
alive. What scared him was that in 'The Princess Bride' BOTH glasses had
been poisoned.

                                     #####

Buster came downstairs looking like the Pink Panther fresh from the
clothes dryer. Mulder finished shoving the stained shower curtain and
poncho into a garbage bag for later disposal. The look Buster gave him
told him that the Dog KNEW how he looked and would be glad to make
Mulder aware of just how sharp all those teeth were if he said one word.
Two baths and blow dryings, not to mention the damages of the dye did
not do well for the poor guy.

"Come On ugly, I'll take you out so you can kill some plant life."

Once in the woods Buster bounded along a deer path with limitless energy.
Chasing down interesting smells and marking almost every other tree as
his. 

"All this and brains too." Mulder muttered under his breath. Buster was up
ahead looking back as if wondering what was taking so long. He wasn't
about to admit to a DOG that he was still stiff and sore.

"Come on, let's head back. We've been out here for fifteen minutes."

Buster spotted a passing bee and got a gleam in his eye. He gave Mulder a
'but I wanna play now' look before chasing the bug. Mulder shook his head.
Ten minutes later they headed back.

Mulder went inside. Scully wasn't at the computer, though she had set the
laptop on the table and left it powered up. Mulder heard the water running
upstairs running. She was still in the shower.

Buster jumped onto the table and picked up the stylus between his teeth.
He began to tap on the keys. Mulder poured himself an iced tea then
moved to stand behind the dog to see what he was writing.

SHE IS NICE. WHY YOU NOT MARRIED HAVE BABIES.

Mulder spewed his tea across the kitchen then started to cough. The tea
had lodged itself in the wrong pipe. Tears came to his eyes as he finally
coughed out enough to regain his breath, and his voice.

"What? Buster she's my partner. My friend. We don't think of each other
like that. Now delete that before you embarrass us both."

YOU THINK OF HER LIKE A MATE ALL THE TIME. I SEE YOU
LOOK AT HER. I SEE YOU TRY TO TOUCH HER WHEN SHE
SLEEPS IN CAR. YOU BELONG TOGETHER.

Mulder gripped the back of the chair hard. He had thought Buster was
asleep too. Damn Dog. He reached forward and deleted the screen.

"Look, she's off bounds. Even if I did... feel that way, she doesn't. End of
story." Mulder was speaking low now, close to Buster's ear, afraid Scully,
wherever she was, might hear. "What we do would make that kind of
relationship dangerous anyway."

Buster turned back to the laptop, slowly and carefully pecking out keys.

SHE FEELS SAME THING. SHE WATCHES YOU WHILE YOU
SLEEP. 

Mulder hissed and closed his eyes, swallowing hard. He did not want to
read this, did not want to know this. 

YOU BOTH SHARE ALL NOW. YOUR HEARTS AND LIVES. WHY
WOULD THINGS CHANGE. BE WORSE.

"You know you're a real pain in the ass Dog, have been since I met you."
Mulder deleted the screen again. 

AND YOU ARE STUPID. STUBBORN. YOU SHOULD NIP HER
NECK AND MOUNT HER. 

The suggestion burned a mental image into Mulder's mind. Not good.
Mulder couldn't believe it. A dog was making him blush. HIM. This was
getting beyond ridiculous. 

"Next time I need sex advice from I dog I'll be sure to look you up."

Mulder heard the sharp intake of breath behind him and spun. Scully stood
in the kitchen doorway, her hair still wet from her shower. An oversized
robe tied closed over her small form, gaping open just enough at the top to
make Mulder aware of why he was having this stupid conversation with the
Dog in the first place. The view also made him think on that mental image
again. Her eyes were glued to the laptop in front of Buster.

Mulder ran a hand through his hair and cursed under his breath as he
reached over to again delete the screen.

"Just what the hell is going on down here? I came down to get my new
clothes and find this going on in the kitchen?" She crossed her arms and
glared at them. 

Mulder ignored the tap, taping of the computer keys. Turning his back on
the Dog to fully face his partner. "Buster here was making another bad
attempt at humor."

Scully looked from at something behind him and paled. Mulder spun to
look at the computer screen.

HE LOVES YOU. YOU LOVE HIM. STOP BEING STUBBORN.

That was it. He was going to save the NSA and the Consortium some time.
He was going to throttle the Dog here and now.

"That's it. Muzzle, choke chain and travel cage for you from here on in."
Mulder growled at the dog who only sat there and yawned at the threats. 



Chapter 13. 
-------------

"Buster you have a lot to learn about human nature." Scully interjected.
She had been flustered a moment before but she had recovered. "Mulder
and I care about one another, we are best friends. And yes, we have a bond
that runs deep. I suppose it could be called love. We rely on each other so
much, and we have seen and been through so much... but it isn't THAT
kind of relationship. I can understand how it can be confusing at times."
She moved forward to stroke the top of Buster's head.

Mulder wasn't sure if he wanted to applaud Scully's flawless explanation, or
cringe. It certainly clarified her own feelings if nothing else, not that he
hadn't already suspected just that. So he determined to keep any of his own
unpartnerlike feelings to himself. 

"I have to go into town for some food. I made some iced tea from powder,
but there is nothing but canned and dried stuff here." Mulder decided to
make a graceful exit while he could.

"Oh no! I am not leaving food choices up to the frozen dinner king. No
way." Scully shook her head emphatically. "You go shower and change.
I'm coming with you."

"What about Buster? Do you think we should leave him alone?"

Tap....tap....tap...

Mulder was almost afraid to look at what message awaited them this time. 

DON'T NEED BABY SITTER. I'M AN ADULT. GO. GET FOOD. GET
HOT DOGS. LOTS OF HOT DOGS

Mulder tried to suppress a smile at that, but his lips twitched a bit.

"Hot dogs are not good for you. How about some ground beef instead? I
can cook it up and rinse off the grease." Scully asked.

YOU TAKE FUN OUT OF EVERYTHING.

Mulder decided to sneak off for that shower before he laughed and Scully
smacked him.

                                     #####

When the van stopped the others moved on. The teams would coordinate
only when needed. It was too conspicuous to stay together. They had
stopped at a steak house for a quick lunch. Inside Cook was pouring over a
list of hotels that accepted cash only in the surrounding states. With a
highlighter he marked names likely to be chosen by the prey. 

Webb didn't like this. The Dog was much more mobile now. Hell, he and
his two keepers could be in Canada by now. He pulled Hernandez, their
van's driver, to the side and gave him the list Cook wanted put on hold. 

"Take this to Simms. Tell him to put a team on checking out each of these
addresses, and to check out the people listed. Tell him Cook thinks it's a
dead end but I want to be certain." 

Hernandez nodded and moved to return to the van, hopefully without
Cook noticing. If Webb had pulled him out of earshot then he gathered that
Cook didn't need to know about it.

                                     #####

Lem was working a crossword puzzle in the car. His query had been in the
steak house for the past twenty minutes. He'd already eaten. He always
tailed someone with a full cooler. Scrappy was playing a trivia game on the
laptop. His latest favorite was the JEOPARDY home game.

When the driver of the van emerged from the restaurant alone Lem
frowned. When he disappeared into the van for five minutes, without the
van moving Lem was puzzled. 

"What the hell?" 

The sounds of the game stopped and Scrappy placed a paw on his leg. 

MAYBE HE SICK. OR MAYBE THEY SPOT YOU AFTER ALL.

But the two NSA men he'd targeted as heading the team emerged in three
more minutes and got into the van.

"Something about this whole thing is looking ugly. Uglier then we thought
maybe." Lem muttered as he started his car and prepared to follow.

                                     #####

Stupid. Humans could be so stupid sometimes. Those two needed a good
bite in the ass. Buster paced the chalet. Exploring it once again. Who did
they think they were fooling anyway? Not him. When Dana had shown up
in that too big robe there was no mistaking the scent coming off the Fox. It
was the subtle changing of scent that came with a release of hormones in
the body. Put at it's most basic it was the human equivalent of heat. Buster
knew the biology behind it, he also knew that no rationalization detracted
from putting things on their most basic and simple level. The Fox was male,
Dana was female. He wanted her. And if Buster's eyes and nose had not
failed she wanted him as well. They liked each other. They respected one
another. It was more than lust. They were in love. What was WRONG with
these humans? 

Buster almost scratched that the itchy burn in his side but settled for
wriggling. Don't tear the stitches. The dye had burned the slash a bit, but all
in all he thought he was healing quite nicely.

Ok what to do about Tweedle Dum and Tweedle Dee? Thinking about that
helped keep his mind off the itch. Being blunt wasn't working. Maybe he
had to be a bit sneaky? Just how sneaky can you can get without opposable
digits was a indication of canine cleverness. Buster sighed. 

With a doggie grin Buster had the beginnings of a plan. Now, if he could
only get the breaker box open...

X 

They had stocked up on edibles and were heading back. For once the
silence between them was uncomfortable. It was close enough to their
usual shared silences it made Dana's skin crawl. She glanced over at
Mulder who was either watching the road or zoning out. And since he was
driving she hoped it was the former.

Great. They hadn't said more then two words since they left, and they had
Buster to thank for it. It was stupid. Why were they both so uncomfortable
over such a simple misunderstanding? It's not like it was the first time their
relationship was mistaken for another. Maybe it was Buster's earnest
forthrightness about his questions and from what Scully could see,
suggestions.

Maybe it was because in the Dog's guileless innocence he had touched too
close to home. She looked away from Mulder and tried to focus on the
wooded scenery out the window. Tried not to think of how his still damp
hair slicked back just so, or how his adams apple bobbed just slightly when
he swallowed or the lines of his profile or ... dammit Dana stop it, she
chided herself. Ok so there WAS a physical attraction. At least on her part.
But a little dose of lust did not true love make. Love was... what? Putting
the needs and happiness of the other before your own. Knowing someone
completely and accepting all they were despite the faults and flaws.
Thinking about that person a lot, even and especially when they weren't
there. She bit down on the inside of her cheek. Oh shit. Step back from this
and think about it rationally. Ok, that worked. She WAS in love. But it
didn't change anything. Not really. Mulder didn't feel the same way. 

Yes, he liked and respected her. Yes he was overprotective. But when did
he put her before himself? Besides handing over the MJ tape, leaving the
decision in her hands. Or trying to get her to back away from a case that
made her uncomfortable... he still ran off on his own, still had his head
berried in his endless search for 'The Truth' so far that he was blind to
almost everything else. His first priority was finding his sister, or at the
very least finding what happened to her. Everything else, everyone else,
was incidental. He was driven, intense, and passionate under an exterior of
cool indifference. And he had no room or desire in his life for anything
more than one night stands and celluloid fantasies. And even if she were
willing to settle for that, which she wasn't, she was hardly the statuesque
brunette type with legs that go all the way up that Mulder had a penchant
for. 

"Quarter for your thoughts." Mulder's voice startled her out of her
thoughts.

"Thought it was supposed to be a penny." She looked at him, forcing a
bland expression.

"Well, you know, inflation, taxes, factor in a small profit." He gave her that
disarming lopsided grin.

"Buster."

"Buster." He repeated.

"So what? Now you're a parrot? Yes, Buster. You know, short, furry,
smart ass, pulls off the wounded puppy look even better than you." 

"Ooooh, THAT Buster. I thought you meant Buster KEATON. I thought
you had a thing for Tarzan." The teasing gleam was back in his eyes.
Everything was alright. 

"Keaton? No way. Christopher Lambert... Now THERE was a Tarzan." a
faint smile touched her lips.

"So you like men in loincloths?" He pulled into the short driveway.

"Depends on the man." She reached behind the seat to grab two of the
grocery bags.

"Ever hear my Tarzan imitation?" He whispered close to her ear before
ducking out the driver side door with his two bags.

She froze for a few seconds then regained her composure. Just what the
hell did he think he was doing?

####

Just what the hell did he think he was doing? Hear my Tarzan imitation,
smooth move Mulder. He winced inwardly. But part of him wanted to just
see how she'd react. A little game of shock Scully, it was harmless. Right.
So why did she looked flushed and why did she freeze up for a moment?

Mulder opened the door and headed for the kitchen before noticing the
place seemed a bit dim. It was only when he got to the kitchen and opened
the fridge to put the milk and perishables away that he noticed the total
lack of power.

Buster was sitting at the table in front of the powerbook, which was
thankfully run on batteries. 

LIGHTS AND STUFF WENT OFF JUST AFTER YOU LEFT. I
CHECKED BREAKERS AND FUSES. MUST BE OUTSIDE
PROBLEM.

Great, just great. Mulder moved the perishables to the freezer, planning on
keeping it closed as much as possible to keep the temp down.

"What's wrong?" Scully set her bags at the table then read the screen. She
shook her head. "Ok then off this goes, we better preserve the batteries."
She turned the powerbook off and closed it up.

"They may have traced us here somehow?" Mulder frowned, suddenly
alert.

Mulder, if they did and THEY cut the power, they would have come in and
taken Buster when they didn't have US to deal with. No, it's a simple
power outage. "Scully unpacked her bags and frowned at the pint of ice
cream she had bought. 

"Freezer should be good overnight at least." Mulder pointed out.

Dinner was grilled chicken. By the time it was done it was dark out, so
they ate by candle light. Throughout the meal Mulder kept giving
suspicious glances at Buster, who was pointedly ignoring both of them. It
was nice. Too nice. 

After dinner Scully built up a fire. It was too warm for one really, but it
would provide light.

Mulder found an old Scrabble game and set it down in front of the fire
place. 

It was weird, because Buster wanted to play. He even won the first game,
mostly because something in their human egos didn't think he could. But by
the time he'd used his last tile in the word 'rationale' they were ready for
him. Mulder won the second game, pulling on the strangest words he could
find which kept Scully looking in the dictionary. Buster bowed out of a
third game. He limped off to the kitchen, spelling out 'TIRED' with the
wooden tiles.

As they set up for a third game Scully sighed. "So what are we going to
do? We can't stay here forever."

"We wait a few days, and hopefully this Hyatt guy will send word through
the guys. They can reach us through your computer. THEN we should
have someplace to take him at least."

Scully nodded. The dancing firelight burnishing her hair, and playing with
the shadows on her face. She looked beautiful. "I'll miss him." She actually
looked sad.

"Yeah, well, you can't keep him. Even disguised. I think the fact that we're
here is proof enough of that." 

"When we get back." She looked at him, as if daring him to refute the when
part, "I promise not to make fun of your rampant paranoia again. AND, I'd
appreciate it if you had my apartment sweeped."

"Sure. Frohike will do it for a pair of your underwear." Mulder lay down
his first word. 'danger'.

"I don't think so." She lay out 'devil'.

Mulder turned to look at her word and she was right there, their arms
brushing. So close. It barely took any movement at all on his part to lean
over just the slightest bit and cover her lips with his own. No effort at all
for the reward of the incredible heat that spread through him from that
simple sensation, a heat that had nothing to do with the crackling fire
before them.



Chapter 14. 
--------------

What was going on? She had simply been playing a game of scrabble, and
out of nowhere... Fox Mulder was kissing her. Her partner was kissing her.
And she was liking it. A lot. His lips were soft and warm on hers. They
moved slightly to sandwich her bottom lip. 

Then she felt him shift slightly, his fingers gently tracing the side of her
face. Small tingles of excitement flowed from every nerve his fingers
brushed. 

What the... She jumped back as if burned. And in a way she had been.
Burned by him. What was happening here? She had always assumed that he
respected her too much to try pulling something like this. Just what was he
pulling? And what would she do if he really was interested? If despite her
earlier assessment he was indeed interested in her as more than a partner
and friend? 

"Mulder, what the hell is happening here? I'm no one's one night stand, and
I definitely think this is a line we don't want to cross."

His eyes, meeting hers were filled with a mixture of fear and... was it
desire? Oh shit. This was not good. He inhaled and moved back. "You're
right." He ran his free hand through his hair. "You're right. I'm sorry. I'm
tired, and the company, the firelight, the scent of wood smoke... it all went
to my head."

His hasty apology hurt. Why? It was what she wanted wasn't it? No.
Dammit she wanted him. It was just not a smart move. Besides he wasn't
really interested. But then why had he kissed her?

"I don't think your head was all that involved with what just happened
here." Her lips twitched slightly.

"Sure it was Scully, just not the one you're thinking of." The flip rejoinder
didn't mask the hurt and disappointment in his eyes. 

She loved him. Completely, hopelessly. She trusted him with her life. With
her sanity. How much harder could it be to trust him with her heart? 

"I meant what I said Mulder. I'm no one's one night stand."

Mulder frowned, "I never in a million years thought you were."

Scully smiled, one of her rare room lighting smiles. "If that's true just what
are you looking for?"

Mulder looked a bit flustered. He looked down at their hands, so close on
the floor. "I'm looking for forever." He said it so softly, as if speaking the
words aloud would shatter what they had now. Their friendship.

Scully couldn't quite find her voice. So she moved her hand, to cover his.
At that he looked at her. His heart was in his eyes, and she wondered how
she had ever managed to miss it before. Or had she been afraid to see it? It
didn't matter. This was mutual. And with the absolute clarity of hindsight
she could see it had been for a while now. 

This time she leaned in to kiss him. Yes, she could trust him with her heart.
She could trust him with everything.

The kiss deepened. At this signal of willingness from her he seemed to
allow his own fears to slip away. She felt his hand on the curve of her neck.
His palm warm and dry and slightly rough against her skin as she opened
herself to him. To his taste, his touch, his scent... everything. It felt so
right. His mouth was demanding on hers, his tongue dipping inside to taste,
to seek her soul thru this contact. She shifted and was made aware of just
how uncomfortable the floor was. Reluctantly she broke this kiss as well. 

"Come on. Let's take this upstairs, away from hard floors and prying eyes."
She looked meaningfully at the dark kitchen.

She stood and Mulder moved to follow, wincing slightly as he gained his
feet. "I'm not exactly at my best Scully." His wry, self-depreciating smile
touched her. She nodded and gently brushed her finger over the bruise on
his cheek. She remembered his slight limp.

"Don't worry. I'm a doctor... I'm sure I can figure something out." She
twined her fingers with his and led him to the stairs, quickly before she lost
her nerve or allowed herself to think about it too much. 

As they made their way up the stairs Buster stepped from the kitchen - his
tail wagging at top speed, and a grin on his doggy face. 

                                     #####

The upstairs was dark, and neither of them were absolutely familiar with
the chalet. Mulder paused, then released Scully's hand, feeling along the
wall for the linen closet. Finding the door he opened it and felt around the
third shelf for the candle stash. Power problems were not new here, really.
He'd been here one winter when the lines went down due to a snow storm.
He found them, right where he remembered them.

He bumped into Scully, who hadn't moved. She felt along his arm to take
his hand once more. 

Inside the master bedroom Mulder found a pack of matches in the top
dresser drawer. Lighting a candle he found two decorative candles on
either side of the dresser mirror and lit them as well. Scully found an
ashtray and with the use of some melted wax they anchored three more
candles to it. 

The room was bathed in a soft amber glow. He turned from the candles to
look at Scully. The sight stole his breath away. While he had been lighting
candles she had taken the opportunity to remove her t-shirt. She was
standing next to the bed. In jeans and her bra. At that moment she looked a
lot smaller then usual. Or maybe he was just looking at her differently. 

She moved toward him and pulled his shirt free of his jeans. He finished the
job of pulling it over his head. He slid his fingers under Scully's chin, lifting
her face up to him, so he could look in her eyes. Tears shimmered there but
desire overshadowed the hints of fear. He bent down to brush his lips over
her eyes, kissing away the tears, tasting the saltiness of them before finding
her mouth with his own once more. His arm slipped behind her, pulling her
close, feeling the cool roughness of her lace trimmed bra just below the soft
warmth of her breasts as she molded to him. She was kissing him now,
hungrily, her arms twining about his neck, pulling him down a bit more. He
kissed his way down her throat, finding every spot that made her gasp and
shiver with his lips and tongue. Her fingernails scraped against his scalp
and bit into his shoulder. 

He found the clasp to her bra and unhooked it, peeling it off her. He moved
back to look at the flesh he was revealing. She smiled softly as he ran a
single finger over the outside curve of each breast before moving in to
circle each hardened nipple. She bit her full bottom lip and her eyes half
closed to savor the sweet sensations his feathery caresses sent though her.
He tugged her to the bed and sat on the edge, so she stood before him
between his spread legs. He kissed the tops of her breasts, cupping their
warm weight in his palms, lightly squeezing. He inhaled the rich scent
there. The soft aroma that was purely Scully. He savored it, though he
knew that scent already. Here it was stronger, and infinitely more heady.
When he finally pulled one hardened nipple into his mouth, teasing it with
his tongue and nipping it slightly before providing it with the gentle
suckling that produced a low moan from her.

That sound, added to the arching of her back and her fingers clasping his
head to her all combined to make his own jeans painfully tight. He could
feel the roughness of the zipper, the texture of the cotton of his boxers. He
let his hands wander over her body, memorizing each curve and muscle
before he reached to undo her jeans. All the while he occupied his mouth
with one breast then the other, trailing fiery kisses between them.

Scully felt her knees going weak. It wasn't a reaction she was used to. The
sweet ache, the flush of heat brought on by Mulder's hands and mouth were
enough to drive almost all conscious thought from her mind.

She felt him tug her jeans and underwear down, and she stepped from them
before pushing him back on the bed. She noticed the momentary flash of
pain though, and as she pulled off his jeans - tugging the boxers with them
- she got her first look at his hip. The bruise was dark and deep.
Completely removing the last of his clothing she leaned over to examine his
shoulder again. 

"Oh God, don't you DARE become Doctor Scully right now." He cupped
the base of her skull in his hand and dragged her down for another deep
sensual kiss, driving her medical evaluation from her mind. Finally coming
up for air she gave him a slow, seductive smile. 

"I was just going to kiss it and make it better." She bent to kiss his
shoulder, lifting his arm in one hand to trail her tongue down the varying
degrees of bruise to end at his elbow. Her eyes met him over his arm and
she smiled at the way his breath caught. 

His other hand was exploring her, touching everywhere he could reach,
stroking, squeezing, tempting.

She dropped his arm and rained kisses on his chest, feeling the muscles
there jump and move under her mouth. Enjoying the salt and musky scent
and taste. She payed the same attention to his flat nipples as he had to hers,
and she smiled as he arched under her. She could feel him - hard and heavy
pressed against her stomach. 

She moved lower, sliding her body against his. Reveling in the feel of
heated flesh against heated flesh. She kissed the dark patch on his hip as
her hands moved between them, one to cup and gently squeeze the other to
stroke and tease. She ran her thumb in circles over the tip of his arousal.

"God, Dana." He hissed, thrusting upward. 

She released him and took his hands. "Sit up. Back against the headboard."
Her tone brooked no argument. He did, pulling himself back so his back
leaned against the carved wooden headboard. She kneeled before him,
straddling his legs so he could feel her moist heat pressing against him. She
kissed his bruised cheek. "You are so sexy, you know that? Even bruised
and bedraggled. I want you. So very much."

He kissed her again, slow and deep before moving back to look into her
eyes. His own eyes were rendered ebon dark in the candlelight, glazed with
desire. "Well you got me." His hands encircled her waist. "For as long as
you can put up with me." His hand moved to cup her, his finger seeking
and finding the slick readiness there. 

She smiled as the love in his eyes combined with his words filled her heart
near to breaking. She lifted up and moved forward, then - bracing one hand
on his uninjured shoulder the other on the headboard behind him- she
slowly sank down onto him, taking her own weight on her knees. He
placed his hands on her waist again. She threw her head back as she felt
him enter but forced herself to look back at his face, to watch him. It had
been so long that, wet as she was, it was still a bit uncomfortable. She took
him in slowly, allowing herself to get used to the fullness. He filled her
completely. He had trapped his full, pouty bottom lip under his top teeth,
his eyes searching hers as if silently answering a challenge. He seemed to be
struggling as much as she was to maintain focus. Their bodies were in
complete contact, their torsos pressed together so she could feel the fine
hairs of his chest against her nipples with every breath either of them took. 

She kissed him as she began to move. The groan that rumbled from his
throat was as thrilling as the feel of him against her, with her, inside her. 

They found a rhythm immediately, in sync with one another in this as much
as with anything. She felt one of his hands move to cup her breast as the
other settled at the small of her back. The hand at her breast caressed and
squeezed as his thumb teased and tormented the tip. Their eyes never left
each other as each move, each caress and each stroke brought them closer
to the white hot center they sought. They searched each other's faces and
eyes, learning just what move, what touch brought the most pleasure. No
words were needed. Their eyes said it all. They only stopped the intense
scrutiny when one or the other leaned in to steal a kiss, setting the thrust of
tongues to match the rhythm of their joining below until a mutual need for
air forced them to stop and seek each other's eyes again. Dana felt herself
close to the edge, the heat ready to sear her. Mulder saw this and thrust
deeper, sending her over the edge and into the blazing core, crying out his
name as she went.

The sound of her release as much as the feel of her body milking him sent
Mulder immediately after her. He too cried out as he spilled into her, his
body continuing to thrust against her, as his arms wrapped around her to
pull her close. He wanted to be part of her, to lose himself in her. 

At last, exhausted, he slid down on the bed and lay back - dragging her
with him. He didn't ever want to let her go again.



Chapter 15. 
-------------

Lem could feel Karen stroking his face, soft little touches that indicated a
pleasant prospect for an early morning diversion. His wife brushed along
his jaw then licked at his ear. He smiled. "Karen..."

He opened his eyes to face the amused dark eyes of a Golden Retriever. 

"Geez Scrapps, give me a heart attack why don't you? " He sat up slowly.
His joints ached from sleeping cramped up in a car last night.

"They leaving?" He asked the dog, who had taken the second watch shift. 

Scrappy barked. That meant no. So why did he... Oh.

"You need to answer natures call?" A tail wag. Yes.

Lem opened the door for the dog and moved to the side of a commercial
van parked next to him, away from the line of sight of the hotel room he
was watching. He checked his watch. 8 am. They should be up and about
soon. He heard his cell phone's chirrup and answered quickly. "Yes."

The voice on the other end was familiar. "Lem if we set up a meet with you
and the two who have Buster do you think you can get him to California?
Keene can set up false papers so it will appear he's been owned by a family
out there for a couple of years."

"Sure, sure. I can do that. You know where our fugitives are?" Johnson ran
a hand over his face. Dealing with the guy on the phone and his associates
always made him nervous. They were so... weird. Yet they had managed to
help keep the Dogs a secret for the past eight years, ever since one of them
had traced Einstein, and been convinced that mass media exposure of the
miracle Einstein and his progeny would be disastrous.

"Not technically. but we know how to contact them. This is Hyatt's plan..."

"Wait a minute... why didn't you guys just take Buster in, if you can
contact the people who have him?" Lem was feeling the past few days of
frustration boiling up.

"We didn't want to expose ourselves unless absolutely necessary. We've
been covering his tracks so to speak, though. And at no little risk to
ourselves I might add. Besides, we are watched too. He wouldn't really
have been any safer with us. The people he is with are better able to handle
this situation."

Lem was surprised. "Doddard's house... you broke in and removed all the
photographic evidence of Buster."

There was a laugh on the line. "And all medical records, Doddards personal
journals cataloging IQ tests and growth charts. We left no stone unturned."

Lem shook his head in amazement. "Ok, set up the meet. Call me back and
tell me where and when."

X 

Cook poured over his list. Hoping it would be futile at the same time as he
actually matched the expense reports of agents Mulder and Scully to the
list. Highlighting places they had stayed in the past. Marking with a check
places they might choose to stay now based on rates, availability to pets
and names. Any hotel or motel that has a name that could be associated
with space. The Starlight, The Full Moon, Skyview, and so on... something
that might appeal to the man who's dossier and career history he'd checked
out. He was also checking anything with a Nautical theme or name. Scully
was from a Navy Family.

Webb had taken his cell phone into the bathroom. No doubt getting his
next crooked orders. Cook felt like he was falling deeper and deeper into a
pit. A pit with sides made of soft sand, so the more he tried to crawl out,
the more he pulled it in on himself. 

                                     #####

The sunlight brightened the room considerably. This illumination began to
stir Mulder's sleep fogged brain. No nightmares - at least that he could
remember. He felt the soft, fragrant warmth against his side and opened his
eyes to see a bright red mass of hair pillowed on his chest. Various portions
of the previous, and very long, night came back in perfect detail. He caught
himself grinning a foolish cat that ate the canary grin he was sure she would
shoot him for if she saw it.

Scully stirred in her sleep. He reached down to trace light circles on her
back with his fingertips. She moaned softly, and the sound played havoc on
his libido.

He felt her stir more and looked down to see a pair of penetrating blue eyes
peering back at him.

"Morning." He smiled lazily.

"Yeah, I guess so." Scully sat up and stretched, sinuously, like a cat. He
watched the graceful arch of her back, the play of smooth muscle there, the
way she raised her arms, how it lifted her breasts delightfully. He felt
himself begin to stir again. He let his fingers play over her neck, her
shoulder. 

"You are so beautiful." She looked down at him and blushed. The pink
tinge coloring not only her face but her throat and breasts.

"You ain't so bad yourself Mulder." She swept out of bed, making the
sheets seem cold without her. 

"What, no morning kiss?" He gave her the whipped puppy look he had
perfected over the years. 

"Morning BREATH. I'm going to brush my teeth, then shower. If you drag
your lazy ass outta bed you just might be allowed to join me."

Mulder cleared the bed in record time, bruised hip or no.

The water was already running when he got there. He could see Scully's
silhouette on the other side of the frosted glass shower doors. The sound
however, was making his bladder uncomfortable. 

Scully could no doubt hear what he was doing out here, but was polite
enough to refrain from laughing outright. 

Dana did in fact hear him outside the shower doors. But laughing would
have been hard anyway as she had a toothbrush and a mouthful of minty
foam in her mouth. She shelved the toothbrush and rinsed her mouth before
reaching for the shampoo, only to have her wrist caught. She looked at
Mulder as he slid the shower door shut and took the bottle from her
fingers. He stood in the stream of hot water, the spray hitting his back as
streams of wetness flowed down his body, following the contours of his
muscles, flowing over planes and angles like a caress. Scully bit her bottom
lip. It just was NOT fair what he could do to her. Not fair at all. All he was
doing was standing there, bruised and wet, squeezing shampoo into his
hand, and she wanted him. Wanted to be the water sliding over his flesh.

When one hand touched her shoulder it send a jolt of desire through her,
centering in her breasts and belly. He turned her gently, so she faced away
from him. Then she felt his fingers moving through her hair. Strong
fingertips massaging her scalp sending opposing sensations of relaxation
and anticpation through her as he worked up a lather. His fingers working
in circles, working the bubbles through all of her hair. A slow heat and
lethargy spread through her limbs so that she almost jumped when she felt
his lips place an open kiss at the junction of her neck and collarbone. The
little circles his tongue made on her flesh as he kissed her there causing her
knees to feel a tad unsteady, and it took her a moment to realize the soft
whimper she heard was coming from her. It was incredably intimate, having
him wash her hair. It was a simple thing she had always done for herself. It
spoke volumes as well. This wasn't about sex, although it was highly erotic.
It was about closeness, sharing. Not the act of a casual sex partner, but the
reverent act of a lover. Then his mouth was gone and he pulled her back a
bit, so that the hot water hit her head and ran in a flood down her back. His
fingers still working magic on her scalp as he rinsed the suds away.

When she felt his fingers fall away from her head and begin to caress the
back of her neck she moved away - turning to take his hands in her own
she pulled him forward then circled so she stood behind him.

"Your turn," she smiled softly and reached for the shampoo. His eyes were
dark with desire. He had enjoyed that as much as she did. She poured a
cool dollop of the thick stuff into her palm and realized with a fleeting
sense of dismay that he was too tall, and her arms would grow tired very
quickly if she tried to reach the top of his head. But her practical side
asserted itself at once. "This would be easier if you... kneel down." 

"You've got me on my knees all the time." There was the sharp gleam of
amusement in his eyes as he knelt before her, and her stomach did a little
flip flop as she realized just where his face was when he knelt upright. The
crooked grin on his face told her he knew damn well before he got down.
There was no reluctance however, when she took a small step forward to
begin spreading the shampoo through his hair. The short wet stands sliding
slickly through her fingers, tickling her palm. She felt his arms encircle her
and cold slickness move across her back causing her to shiver. His hand
were making firm circles against her back, her spine. 

"What are you doing?" She asked with an arched brow as she felt his
fingertips slide between her buttocks.

"Your investigative skills are getting rusty. I'm washing your back Agent
Scully. You know, I wash yours, you wash mine." The heat building in her
threatened to turn into an inferno at the implication of his words.

She pretended to ignore him as she ran her fingers through his hair,
scraping her nails lightly against his scalp as she felt his mouth against the
underside of her breast. 

"That's not fair." She gasped.

"All's fair in love and war." He moved to the other breast, his hand
continuing to soap her back.

His mouth closed over her nipple and she moaned, pushing forward a bit as
her fingers tightened in his sudsy hair. She could feel the movement of his
jaw along his temples with each long pull of suction setting fire to her
blood. He moved to the other breast as his hands soaped her sides. 

Clinging desprately to her thoughts she snatched the soap away from him
and moved back. She almost laughed to see him kneeling there, pouting at
her - his hair all full of bubbles. 

"Rinse your hair." She ordered. 

He obeyed, looking somewhat defeated and very aroused as her eyes drank
him in. She ran her fingers through his short hair, rinsing it clean. "Ok,
stand up."

"I think you enjoy giving orders too much." He grumbled as he stood. 

"Yeah, well you seem to be enjoying taking them. Turn around, and place
your hands on the wall." 

"You're lucky I trust you with my back turned." He did as she told him, and
she stood a moment, admiring the play of lithe muscle along his back, his
broad shoulders, narrow hips, and the tightest, most beautiful ass she had
ever had the pleasure of observing. Working the soap into a lather in her
hands she started at his shoulders, leaning forward to lightly press herself
against him. Her fingers dug into his shoulders, feeling the shiver running
through him as she ran the soap up and down his sides. The slick, slithery
glide of soap over warm, satiny skin was electric. She moved her hands
down to glide over the firm curve of his behind. She felt the tremor in him
again. 

She smiled to herself as she reached a soapy hand between his legs to cup
and stroke him. He threw his head back and groaned as her small hand
worked him, his fingers pressing into the wall till the tips were bloodless.
She kissed his spine as she released him.

As soon as she did he turned and took her shoulders, pulling her up for a
long deep kiss. He tasted of mint and himself. His tongue twining with hers
she felt him pressing hard and urgent against her stomach. He twisted
them, so he was once more under the spray then managed to thrust her
away and turn her so she faced the wall at the same time. She felt his large,
soapy hands move over her stomach, over her breasts over her throat. His
hands moved down, between her thighs. She felt his fingers circle her
center, flicking it, once - twice, making her buck into him as tiny sounds of
pleasure escaped her. Too soon his hands were gone, leaving her aching for
more, for the completion he had brought so close. 

Then his hands were on her hips, pulling them back and she felt him at her
entrance. With a sigh of satisfaction she felt him thrust forward. One of his
arms circled round her waist, holding her in place as he thrust into her,
again and again. His other hand moved to slip between her folds, just above
where they joined. His strokes were long and deep. She felt each one touch
home as she ground against him. Their bodies were slick from the water
and soap. His fingers continued to work her until she cried out, the world
exploding into a burst of shimmering light, control of her body lost as she
imploded around him. Losing the use of her knees, she clung to him for
support. She felt him spilling hotly into her, twitching inside her as she kept
convulsing. His teeth grazed her neck as he called her name. 

They both sunk slowly to the floor of the shower. Completely sated they
allowed the warm water to flow over them. 

                                     #####

Buster watched Mulder come down the stairs and check the electricity in
the house again. He took in the man's damp hair and soapy smell which
almost overrode the musky scent of sex. Buster grinned to himself. He was
a very happy Dog. 

As he moved to the kitchen Mulder saw the message spelled out in
Scrabble tiles on the floor.

YOU GET SMART

"You know fur face, we have really got to get you a life of your own so
you stop butting into other people's." He pulled some eggs from the fridge,
which was warming despite their best efforts. "I'm gonna go check the
fuses, just to be sure you didn't miss something. If we don't get power back
soon the fridge will be useless." The Dog watched the man disappear into
the cellar with a flashlight.

Buster lay down by the fireplace. The dying embers of the previous night's
fire provided little heat. He barely looked up when Dana came down. Her
hair was pulled back into a damp pony tail and she had a scent similar to
Mulder's. Buster wagged his tail in happiness. At that moment the lights
decided to come on. Buster woofed softly then jumped up and began
pawing at the back door.

Dana smiled. "Everyone needs a morning break I suppose." 

Yes, yes - Buster thought - let me out, quick before he comes back. Open
the door... open the door. 

Dana was reaching for the door knob when he heard the basement door
slam. "And just where the hell do YOU think your running off too?" Buster
looked sheepishly at the man. He looked livid. Buster tried hard to look
conciliatory, and to keep the smug grin off his face.

                                     #####

Mulder moved to lay his hand on the door, holding it closed. "Would you
know anything about the main breaker switch being thrown?" He was
pissed. That damn DOG had manipulated the situation last night to play out
some twisted delusion. He'd had it planned all along. Mulder felt used and
betrayed. After all they'd done for the miserable excuse for a mutt he'd been
just as manipulative as anyone he and Scully had gone up against. 

How long had they been manipulated? Was this all part of some plan? The
Dog using them from the first moment? 

Buster had his head down, but the tail tucked between his legs was
wagging at the tip. 

"What are you talking about Mulder?" Scully frowned as she looked at
him.

"Our buddy Buster here threw the main breaker. He cut the power."
Mulder crossed his arms. His initial burst of anger fading quickly in light of
the way he had spent the morning so far.

"But.... why?"

"Haven't you figured it out yet Scully, he's been playing matchmaker all
along. He did it to try to get us together." Mulder shot the Dog his most
intimidating glare, determined not to let him get off too easy.

Scully looked down at Buster wide-eyed. "Did you?"

Buster's dark head bent further, but the tip of his tail kept beating a rhythm
on the floor. One soft woof. A yes.

The shocked look on her face slowly faded into a smile. God she'd been
doing that a lot lately. More than usual. 

"Well it worked didn't it? You're just mad because we didn't catch on.
Unless you are going to say you are sorry all this happened..." Her face
became closed, her eyes guarded. Dana felt her heart pounding in her chest.
What was she going to do if he did say that?

"Of course not. Do you have any idea how long I've wanted this, dreamed
of it?" He reached out to caress the side of her face.

"Then if Buster hadn't arranged for last night to be so romantic, we'd both
still be sitting on our hands doing nothing. Actually..." Dana did the
unexpected, she crouched and wrapped her arms around the Dog, hugging
him tight, "we owe YOU a thank you. Thanks Buster." She kissed the top
of his furry black head.

Mulder crouched in front of them. "Just don't make a habit of it." The
corner of his mouth twitched up into a half smile. He wasn't about to admit
to the already smug twit that he'd taken his advice after all. Not in this life
time. 



Chapter 16. 
--------------

With the power back on Scully plugged in her Powerbook and immediately
began to check for any e-mail. With luck Hyatt will have someplace for
them to take Buster soon.

"You want anything with your omelette?" He asked her as he cracked two
eggs into the frying pan.

"A Free angioplasty?" She went to the account Mulder had insisted they set
up a while back. It was an anonymous e-mail account supposedly run by
someone in Michigan. Langly had set it for them, and only he knew the
address.

"Cheese, bacon and mushrooms it is." He started to grate some cheese and
nuke a few strips of bacon.

Mail... they had mail. "We may have something." Her tone was distracted
as she highlighted the e-mail and opened it. "Mulder, Someone wants to set
up a meeting. Hyatt has someone looking for Buster and they want to meet
with us. It says here he'll meet wherever you want and prove his identity.
He'll smuggle Buster into another state where a new life will be set up for
him. It closes with Scrappy says Hi."

Buster jumped onto the chair next to her to look at the screen.

"Set up?" Mulder met her eyes from across the kitchen. If the people
looking for Scrappy got a hold of this e-mail address they could be setting
a trap.

"Possible."

Buster took the pen that had been left on the table and hit the 'reply' key.

SCRAPPY IS LEMUEL JOHNSON'S FRIEND. SCRAPPY IS DOG
LIKE ME. LEM WILL MEET YOU.

"Ok, Buster seems to know what's going on more then we do." Mulder
muttered as he slid an omelette onto a plate. "Set up a meet, tell him Cool
Springs Outdoor diner. He names the time. But I meet him alone. You and
Buster stay here. That way if it's a setup you can keep Buster safe." He set
the plate and a fork in front of Scully.

"Why do YOU go, why can't I?" There was a hint of anger in her voice. "I
don't need you wrapping me in cotton. I will not be protected Mulder." 

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. He knew this would come
eventually. He was naturally overprotective of her. He knew that after last
night she would be doubly sensitive to any hint of shielding on his part. He
knew she could take care of her self.

He crossed back to the stove before he answered. "Scully, I know the town
better. And if I have to bug out in a hurry I might be able to lose a tail in
the roads and side streets either in town or through these mountains. I have
familiarity with the land on my side. Besides if it's a trap and they traced
that e-mail they might trace us HERE. Being in the chalet isn't necessarily
any safer, and since I'll have the van that leaves you and Buster with the
woods as a refuge." And he hated the fact. Too many ifs to the whole
situation.

"You have a point." Scully poked at the eggs on her plate with her fork.
"I'd better not get sick from this Mulder." 

He tried to look relaxed as she put a forkful in her mouth. Tried not to
think of the dangers of leaving her here without a vehicle.

She raised her eyebrows in surprise. "This is actually good. Unhealthy, but
good."

He bowed mockingly from the waist. "I'd almost swear you thought I
couldn't cook." He flipped his own omelette. "I don't do it often, but I
CAN do it." He grinned as he brought his plate over to sit opposite her.

She began typing a reply message when Mulder saw Buster staring at him.
The Dog licked his chops, looked at the eggs and whined.

Mulder sighed, cut up his omelette and shoved the plate across the table.
Buster dug in happily. Scully tried not to laugh, and not to give in to the
urge to complain about a dog eating at the table. Buster would just love
hearing that complaint she was sure.

                                     #####

Scrappy turned the laptop with his nose, so Lem could see the e-mail they
just received. Forwarded from weirdo central.

"Vermont? What the hell are they doing in Vermont?" Lem pulled a map
out of the glove compartment and tried doing some quick calculating. A six
or seven hour road trip. Might as well start now. Lem pulled away from the
hotel parking lot and headed for the highway. "Scrappy, see if you can type
coherently enough to tell them I'll meet them at that diner at noon for
lunch. I have to get there first." Lem cursed under his breath. Five hours at
least on the road. He was definitely getting too old for this shit. His back
was sure to pay him back for all the time driving.

X 

Cook had narrowed down the list of hotels from thousands to hundreds.
Not good enough, and Webb was already shooting him dirty looks. The
tall, dark man had spent half the morning on the phone, and he wasn't
giving away who he was speaking with, or specifically what about. It was
making him jumpy. As if his nerves weren't frayed already. Knowing he
was sharing a room with that murdering son of a bitch.

Webb looked at his 'partner' with disgust. He knew research took time, but
something felt wrong about the way Cook was approaching things. He
didn't know why. There was no evidence that the older man was doing
anything but his best. Maybe it was because he had stopped getting his
diggs in, had become withdrawn and sullen all of a sudden. Webb chewed
on his mustache thoughtfully.

His attention was drawn back to the phone, and Director Simm's voice. "So
their immediate families seem to check out. I can't keep teams on them at
all times, but it looks like they aren't hiding them. As for immediate friends,
they don't have many. Those we tracked down are not hiding them. There
are a few more names we want to check out. I'll get back to you then.

"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir." Webb hung up. There wasn't much he could do
while Cook worked, so he turned on the tv and flipped channels till he
found a really bad horror movie with Marc Singer. He was to the point
where the guy in a bad monster suit appeared to have killed the lead
character's pet dog before he gave up. He'd read the book, and the movie
was a slap in the face to the author's talents.

Cook had managed to ignore the whole thing, as he bent over his lists and
kept an eye out for any more credit card or bank activity.

                                     #####

Scully relayed the return e-mail before picking up the dishes.

"So we have a few hours to kill. Got any plans?" He gave her an amused
half smile. Mulder had finally gotten to sit down and eat a breakfast of his
own.

"Actually, yes. We can take a walk into the woods. Help me get to know
the place."

He actually pouted, and she stifled a smile as she finished the dishes up.
"Hey, it was YOUR idea I stay here. Knowing which way to go out there
might not be a bad thing."

He nodded, admitting temporary defeat. " Wouldn't want you falling into
the river. Sure. Why not? I'll take you to the old saw mill. It's about three
miles north of here along the river. It's been out of operation for fifty years
and I wouldn't recommend going into the place but it's interesting. Besides
we can make it there and back and still have an hour or so to kill before I
have to leave."

"Did anyone ever tell you that you have a one track mind?" Scully wiped
her hands on a dishtowel and tossed it at his head.

"Yeah, but they usually say it's derailed."

                                     #####

The walk was a pleasant one. Mulder was sure to keep them off the major
trails and stuck to deer paths. They'd be lost for sure if his memory wasn't
what it was. It was actually nice, walking through the early morning
woods, feeling Mulder's hand, dry and warm enveloping hers. She savored
that, because when this was all over such simple contact would be denied
them. They hadn't discussed it. They didn't need to. It was understood that
the new dimension to their relationship would have to stay hidden. And if
they kept their apartments bug free (She still cursed herself for laughing off
Mulder's paranoia) and were very cautious they could make this work.
They had to make this work. There was no going back.

Buster appeared once more on the trail ahead of them. He was acting like
any dog left free in the woods. Sometimes he fell behind, sometimes he
moved ahead. They didn't keep track. No need to worry he'd get lost.

After an hour and a half leisurely stroll and Mulder pointing out landmarks
for her to memorize they came upon the mill. Up until now the sound of
the River had been faint, growing as they neared it. Now it was a lovely
soft rush of sound. It was almost picturesque. The Mill was half fallen in,
and the log chute that had once gone to the river had fallen down in a mass
of wood and metal. It looked like part of it may have washed away.

Scully let go of Mulder's hand and moved off over the rocky riverbank. She
bent to dip her hand into the cold water. And it was cold.

"I guess a swim is out of the question." She shook her hand off.

"I forgot to pack my speedos." He grinned. "The current's too strong
anyway. It used to carry the logs down from the mountain."

Scully made her way to the mill, looking at the wreckage of the logging
chute. "Isn't this a safety hazard? I mean kids might think it's fun to play
around here."

"It's not bothered much. I don't think many people know it's back here.
Lenny and I discovered it cross country skiing a couple of years ago. Look,
no beer bottles or campfire marks.. so no kids have been partying here."

Scully moved around the outside of the old Mill. The back wall was leaning
in. But a rusted metal awning was still supported by three beams. They
most likely stored the equipment there. She looked around the smooth dirt,
devoid of rocks and at the semi roof overhead. "Now this would be the
place to party. But you're right. No empties."

Mulder stuck his hands in his jeans pockets. "Gee Scully, you know how to
find teenage party spots? Don't tell me you were a wild child?"

Scully laughed. "Sometimes I wish I had been. No, but I used to have to
hunt them down because Missy WAS. When dad went into a full rage
because she was gone way too long I usually ran off to find her and drag
her back before he really blew a gasket."

"So basically she prepared you for working with me." His face was
carefully neutral. 

"Yeah, basically."

Scully looked at Buster, who was sniffing around the area. "Hey Buster, go
play somewhere for a bit will you?"

The Dog looked up at her and his tail started to wag fast enough to break
the sound barrier. He barked once then trotted off. There was little sign of
a limp in his gait now. 

"Wanna show me what I was missing Mulder?" Scully held out her hand.
"Even walking back we still have about an hour to kill..."

"Are you proposing we make out like a couple of teenagers under a
dilapidated awning?" He took her hand.

"You catch on fast." He didn't fight her tug on his arm at all.



Chapter 17. 
--------------

Dana had changed when they got back, and planned on doing some laundry
while Mulder was gone. They had managed to get their clothes quite
messy. Next time we decide to make love in unusual places we have to
bring a blanket, she chided herself. She really hadn't planned on taking it
that far. But the whole experience of just being with Mulder was too new,
their mutual attraction too great, to stop once they got started. Mulder had
gone upstairs to wash up and change as well, but they had decided to do so
separately or he might never get out of here and meet this Johnson
character.

Buster kept looking out the large open window. He looked slightly
anxious. Dana called him away and motioned to her Powerbook.

"What's wrong? Ever since we got back you've been jumpy."

Buster used the now familiar pen. 

DON'T KNOW. FEEL TIGHT INSIDE. WRONGNESS.

"Do you think this meeting of Mulder's is a set up?" She folded her hands
on the table in front of her.

NO. MEETING GOOD. LEM AND SCRAPPY GOOD. JUST FEEL...
SOMETHING BAD COMING.

"By the prickling of my thumbs..." Dana muttered softly under her breath.

SOMETHING WICKED THIS WAY COMES.

"Do you... do you think that the thing that supposedly escaped with your
ancestor is still alive?" Scully felt a chill go up her spine.

NO. OUTSIDER DEAD. GONE. IF THEY MAKE ANOTHER, WE'D
KNOW. 

"How would you know? If they kept as tight a lid on it as they had
before..."

The keys clicking stopped her as she read. 

WE'D KNOW. WE'D FEEL IT. INSIDE. NOT ALL MONSTERS ARE
MADE IN LABS. SOME ARE HUMAN.

Scully wasn't quite sure why she switched off the computer as Mulder
came down the stairs. He wore Levis and an open, light denim shirt over a
plain white t-shirt. 

"So do I look inconspicuous?" He held up his arms, and turned. The denim
shirt hid the gun tucked into back of his jeans waistband.

"It'll do. Though you still look like you were in a bar fight." She cocked her
head to the side. The bruise on his cheek was fading to a paler blue with
yellowed edges. Colorful to say the least.

"So I'll sit alone drinking a beer and looking surly till this guy shows up. I
don't know how I'm supposed to know him when he shows though."

"Yeah, you sitting alone drinking a beer and acting unsociable will be a
stretch for your acting abilities. And he said you'd be able to pick him out."
Dana walked with him to the front door. "Have fun, and try not to get
shot."

He bent to press a fleeting kiss on her forehead before heading out the door
and to the van.

                                     #####

Cook looked up at the sound of the phone. Webb grabbed the receiver
almost violently.

"Whatcha got?"

Webb recognized Simm's voice. "We have a possible lead. It seems an old
school friend of Mulder's, the photographer - Leonard Kravitz is away on
assignment in Greece. However some of the people I sent to check his
residence and his winter place reported smoke coming from the winter
place. It's a ski chalet in Vermont. Pretty isolated."

Webb cursed. Cook was worse than useless after all. "I'll get on it."

"I want you, Cook and Hernandez out there right away. There will be a
chopper waiting for you at the Scranton Airport. You will meet a team of
five there. They will arrive by road. I need this handled quickly and
efficiently. Kravitz works for National Geographic, and I don't need to tell
you what kind of publicity having you going in there guns blazing will get.
Your orders are still to try and get them all alive if possible. A team will be
waiting at Barre Hospital to preform the procedure. Do I make myself
clear?"

"Crystal sir. You can count on me." Webb smiled looking at the dossiers on
the hotel bed. Alive... IF possible. Lots of things can go wrong. And he did
hate loose ends.

"I hope so. Now get moving."

"Sir... are you sure Cook wouldn't be more useful here? In case this is a
false lead?" Or a solid one for that matter.

"If they manage to escape this time having him there will cut down
response time. That will be all." The click signaled the end of the
conversation.

"Pack up Cook, you were off base. We think we found them in Vermont."
Webb tossed the older man's suit jacket at him.

"Vermont?" Cook's brow furrowed. Shit, shitshitshit.

"Yeah, the list of friends and family you discarded. I had it checked out
anyway. Bad call buddy." Webb sneered and went to rouse Hernandez.

                                     #####

The blind black man sat in a corner. Dark sunglasses concealing his eyes
from view. Every once in a while he would run a hand lightly over his plate
and pick up a french fry or take a bite from his burger. He was noticed only
in passing, and then only because he was not a regular here. 

He sat facing the street, his retriever wearing a signature harness with a
grip sat beside him. Utterly well behaved as he watched the people that
shared the terrace dining area as well as those who passed on the street.

The dog whined softly once, and shifted it's weight to brush against it's
master just as the tall, dark haired man in denim stepped onto the terrace
and took a seat near the building, with his back against the wall and a clear
view of the patrons and street as well. 

The blind man fished out some money from his wallet and dropped it on
the table, confident it would cover his meal. Then, taking hold of his guide
dog's harness he allowed the animal to lead him to the table where Fox
Mulder waited.

Mulder looked up, momentarily surprised to see the blind man approach.
When the man grabbed the seat next to him without hesitation or missing it
Mulder reached behind him to feel the reassuring press of his gun.

"You won't need that Mr. Mulder." The man smiled, his white teeth a stark
contrast to his dark face. "I'm Lemuel Johnson. And this..." he stroked the
head of the retriever at his side, "is Scrappy. Scrappy Doo to be precise."

The dog... no, the Dog, actually lifted it's paw to shake, and Mulder didn't
know quite why, but he took it. Shook the paw once and let it drop. There
were more. It was one thing to have an abstract concept in the back of
your head, quite another to be faced with the solid proof. Johnson seemed
to be enjoying the dumbfounded expression on Mulder's face.

"They are something aren't they? I was there, when Banodyne made the
breakthrough. I always liked Einstien. Even when I was sent to hunt him
down, I felt for him. Felt a sense of kinship and wonder. That's why I
reported him dead and handed in my badge. Scrappy here is the same
generation as your friend. He's been helping me try to find your friend since
we heard of his misfortune."

Mulder tore his eyes away from the Dog at Lem's words. "You hunted
him?"

"Hunted the other was more like it. I used to be NSA. But I knew if I
found the Dog I'd find the Outsider. I was right. But I was too late. You
didn't bring him. Good. I might not have respected you if you had." The
waitress brought a beer over and set it before Mulder, who handed her a
couple of dollars and waved her off.

"So how did you get..." He indicated Scrappy.

"Hyatt learned to trust me. They have to be adopted out you see. The
world is too human based. They need families to care for them and keep
their secrets. As a pup Scrappy took a liking to me. He did the choosing
really. I was honored. And it is an honor Mr. Mulder. They are clever, but
not mean. There has yet to be a bad or mean one born. They are
somehow... purer than us. They retain the canine abilities for unwavering
loyalty, as well as gaining human compassion. They see into people, and
tell if people are good or not. I know I can trust you, Mr. Mulder, because
Buster trusts you. I know you aren't holding him against his will, because
Scrappy would have warned me if he smelled his fear on you."

Mulder looked close to embarrassed. "He's a tricky devil you know. And a
smartass."

Johnson laughed. the sound startling compared to the thus far hushed
conversation. "Mr. Mulder they ALL seem to have a bit of smart ass in
them. Must be... genetic."

Mulder smiled. Seeing Scrappy had been all the convincing he needed right
now. "Come on, I'll take you to him."

Lem fell back into his role of blind man as he followed Mulder. 

"So, Lem... why the hell did you name him Scrappy Doo?" 

Lem chuckled. "I didn't. His mother did. They all love cartoons. So they
name their pups after them. You know Buster's brothers and sisters are
named Babs, Plucky, Shirly, Sneezer and Minerva. Their mom has a Tiny
Toons fixation."

                                     #####

Scully pulled their clothes out of the dryer and suddenly felt WAY too
domestic. "If you think I'm gonna do all your laundry Fox Mulder you are
out of you mind... more than generally thought." She muttered. Of course
she felt herself smiling a bit smugly as she pulled out the sheets from the
bed. The bed they'd shared last night. 

Bringing the basket into the living room she sat on the couch to fold them.
Buster was back at the window. Whining softly. 

"What is it now?" She dropped the sheets and moved to crouch beside the
dog. Looking out the window, she froze. A dark van was coming up the
road, and she looked up at the soft whirr of a chopper on silent running.

Bother she and Buster quickly backed away from the window. She grabbed
her gun from the kitchen table as they both dashed out the back door.

Buster was holding back, waiting for her.

"The Mill. Go. GO! I'll meet you there." She was too anxious to feel any
relief when she saw him bound into the woods, to relitive safety. She took
off down the deer path she'd been on only hours before, trying to not leave
much of a trail.



Chapter 18. 
-------------

Mulder unlocked the van and looked back to see Lem looking at him
strangely. His expression might have been more readable if he weren't
wearing the sunglasses.

"You borrowed Frohike's van?"

At Lem's words Mulder almost dropped his keys. What the hell was going
on here?

"How do you know..."

"The Princes of Paranoid? The tracked down the original Dog within two
years of his reported 'death'. They do like digging into things that are none
of their business. I had a little talk with them. Between Hyatt, myself and
the Dogs we convinced them that making the truth known in this case
would only hurt innocent beings, and possibly even AID the forces behind
creating the Dog and the Outsider."

"They didn't tell me. Why didn't they tell me? They hid what they knew is
hearsay and bullshit." Mulder wrenched the door open.

He felt Johnson's hand on his shoulder. "It wasn't their secret to share.
They gave you what they could. Don't be hard on them. They helped you
get away. They arranged for us to meet, and they will be helping me get
Buster to where he will be safe. I'd say they've gone above and beyond the
call of duty, wouldn't you? Especially for a group of guys who think Elvis
is waiting to reappear so he can run for the Democratic office next
election." Johnson tossed in his briefcase and let Scrappy climb in first.

Mulder managed a wry smile as he moved around and got in the driver's
side door. Scrappy had found the mattress and lay down in back.

"You have a point. After all everyone knows Elvis will have a better chance
running Independent than expect either party to back him."

Lem looked at the man who had started the van's engine with a hint of
shock, mostly because by the look on his face this guy was SERIOUS.

                                     #####

The chopper landed on the street. Webb jumped out, landing lightly on his
feet as Cook followed behind. Hernandez was last out as five men poured
out of the van, each with assault rifles.

"Lock and load boys." Webb ordered and released the safety on his own
gun, chambering the first round.

Hernandez followed suit, stone faced. Cook checked his own weapon, and
hoped to God he wouldn't have to use it.

The chopper took off again, hovering over the house to try to keep watch
from above.

The five man clean up crew spread out. Three moving to circle the house.
Webb's group moved with the other two to smash open the front door.
They entered, guns at the ready. Webb took one look at the unfinished
laundry on the couch and cursed. "You and you sweep the house." He
pointed to the two men from the van. "Cook, go through things here, try to
figure out where they could have headed. Hernandez you're with me.
We've got to comb these woods."

Webb and Hernandez went out the back door. Cook watched the two men
inside split, one going through a door that looked like it led to a basement,
and the other heading up the stairs. Taking a chance he slipped out the
back door then, just in time to see Webb's group disappear into the woods.
Two men taking an obvious path the others spreading out.

He had to follow Webb. He saw that clearly now. If he sat back in that
house and followed orders he'd be less than a man, he'd be just as guilty of
murder as Webb was. Falling back on his military training Cook moved
carefully into the woods. Staking the stalkers.

                                     #####

Dana's lungs burned for air, and her side was cramping painfully. Running
on flat ground was one thing, but she was heading up a slight, but steady
incline, moving over little hills and dips, trying not to trip over plant life
and rocks.

If she was lucky she had a full two minute lead while they searched the
house. 

Her palm was sweating against the gun in her hand. She could no longer
see Buster ahead of her. That was good. If she were caught she didn't
know where he was. 

As she ran the pain in her side was only a dull ache compared to the terror
in her heart. She wasn't afraid for herself. Ok, admit it Dana, you are afraid
for yourself, but you know you haven't been caught yet. She chanced a
quick look behind her. Nothing.

Her real fear was for Mulder. They had been found and traced. Which most
likely meant he had walked into a trap. Had he gotten away? Had he been
caught? Was he hurt? 

Stupid. She chided herself while scanning the almost indistinct path for a
sign of the fallen tree Mulder had used as a landmark. There was nothing
she could do one way or the other for Mulder right now. She had to
concentrate on keeping herself and Buster alive. 

A tree branch, coming out of nowhere, smacked her chin, leaving a stinging
mark to add to her list of complaints.

She held up her arm before her as she ran. She knew she'd have to stop
soon, to catch her breath or risk just collapsing. She just hoped Buster was
clear.

                                     #####

Buster felt the wind in his fur, smelled the rich scent of earth and plants
around him, the hint of decay and mustiness only adding to the whole. He
was scared, but there was a part of him that recognized this. This running
through the forest. Hunt or be hunted. Something primal that shocked him
for only a moment. He could reason, knew that he had to stay free, but also
had to make sure Dana stayed free as well. He knew they had to stay
hidden until the Fox came to help, IF he could come to help. He knew all
the logical and rational reasons for his flight, for the jumble of emotions
settling right behind his breastbone. 

But he was also DOG. Even separated from the wolf by several thousand
generations there was still a touch of primitive there. Something man and
his science couldn't take away. The instinct that made him want to throw
his head back and howl at the moon kicked in. Guided his flight. He slowed
and the rational part of his mind recognized his fur, now black, would be an
advantage. Slowing more Buster began to move in a more graceful way, as
he slipped between the trees, blending with the shadows...

                                     #####

In the van Lem turned off the classic rock station Mulder had been playing
and looked at the younger man. "So... you had suspicions about Buster
before our mutual acquaintances filled in the blanks. What gave him away?"

"A bunch of little things. Like digging out my badge and opening it like he
was checking me out. The sudden playing of my partner's stereo. But
mostly it was his eyes. They were..."

"Too damn intelligent." Lem finished for him, nodding his head. "It's their
biggest pitfall. They can act like any dog, even enjoy what all dogs do... but
anyone looking into their eyes for too long knows there is something
different about them. So why did you decide to help him and not turn him
in?"

Mulder shrugged and looked uncomfortable. "He was... amazing. Once
confronted he proved his intelligence and used a computer and picked out
the letters. I don't know. It was about awe. It was about finally having
proof of the impossible in front of me. Mostly it was that he asked for
help."

Johnson smiled. "They give absolute loyalty, but they tend to inspire it as
well don't they? " Lem looked into the back of the van where Scrappy
yawned as if bored by the entire conversation.

"Shit!" Mulder veered the van off the road suddenly, driving it part way
into a ditch.

Lem let out a muffled curse as Mulder got out as if the van were on fire.
Lem opened his door and stepped out as well.

"Son of a BITCH. I can't believe I fell for your BULLSHIT." Lem was
startled to see a gun shoved in his face. 

"What the..." Scrappy's hackles were up and he had his teeth bared at
Mulder.

"Move and I blow his fucking head off, I know you can understand me."
The Dog took a step back. 

Just then Lem notices the soft, almost distant whap, whap, whap, whap of
a helicopter. A helicopter on silent running. Mulder pointed up, where a
black helicopter could just be seen hovering over the trees about two miles
ahead.

"If either one of them is hurt you die first." Lem looked back at Mulder and
saw with chilling certainty his own demise in the younger man's eyes.

"Listen to me Mulder... I didn't bring them here. I didn't know where you
were staying. They had Cook on your tail, and he's good, the best the NSA
has on tracking. I KNOW that because I was originally following them,
hoping to intervene if they did catch you. You know Buster. You trust him.
Look at Scrappy... he's pissed yeah, but only because he wants to protect
me right now." Lem saw Mulder's wary eyes flicker to the Dog standing by
the van. He had stopped snarling, but his hackles were still up. And the
animal's dark eyes were both angry and disappointed.

"I knew Frohike's van... I knew his name. And Langly and Byers... do you
really think they'd let someone who was a security risk that close to them?
They have surveillance cameras in their freaking BATHROOM. And while
you are here holding ME at gunpoint they are either dragging off your
partner and Buster or hunting them down."

Mulder's gun wavered. "They need our help Mr. Mulder. Do you really
think you can take on a helicopter and as many men as they most likely
have at that house by your self?"

The gun went down. "First we have to approach the place from the woods,
see if they've been caught." Mulder stepped into the trees, moving swiftly,
not caring if Lem caught up or not.

"And if they haven't?" Lem asked no one in particular as he stooped to
unbuckle Scrappy's harness. "Keep up with him if you can boy. I'll follow
as fast as I can."

Scrappy wagged his tail once and ran after Mulder. 

Lem took a few lungfuls of air, thanked God silently that Mulder hadn't
shot him, then started a loping run. "I'm getting WAY to old for this shit."
He muttered under his breath as he tried to judge the direction Mulder and
Scrappy had gone by the road and the position of the chopper.



Chapter 19. 
--------------

Lem looked up to see the forest's leafy canopy hiding him and his
companions from the helicopter, even though the wind whipped by it's
blades stirred the leaves. Ahead Mulder was crouched behind a tree.
Scrappy was laying low to the ground, the low brush effectively hiding him
from the beautiful wooden A-frame chalet just ahead. Two men with
assault rifles were combing the yard.

Lem moved quietly through the underbrush, hoping the soft whirr of the
aircraft would mask any sounds of his approach. He got within two feet of
Mulder.

Mulder turned quickly, his gun up and aiming at Lem, who held up his
hands, including the one holding his own weapon.

"Damnit, if I was gonna kill your honkey ass you'd have been dead fore you
turned." Lem hissed softly.

Mulder didn't relax, but he lowered his gun. In a voice just as hushed he
announced, "I only see two, and maybe the pilot of the chopper. No sign of
Buster or Dana."

One of the two dark uniformed men turned from the edge of the woods
and called out across the yard. "Where the hell did Cook run off to? You
sure he aint in the house?"

"You tryin to say I can't pull a proper search? The fuckin place is empty
man. Maybe Cook found something and went to chase down Webb. OUR
job is to stay here and secure the place." The other shouted back as he eyed
the forest warily.

Mulder seemed to be chewing on the inside of his bottom lip, then his eyes
brightened. He looked at Scrappy. 

"You think you can get close enough for Larry and Moe to spot you and
chase you in here?"

The Dog tilted his head and peered through the brush with narrowed eyes.
He shook his tail.

"Well?" Mulder looked impatient.

"Tail wag means yes." Lem whispered into Mulder's ear. "Ambush right?
Outta sight of the air support. Ok, but that flyboy is gonna know
something's up when they don't come back."

"Good, maybe he'll radio whoever is in the woods. I know where Scully
and Buster are headed. We might bluff them back here and give them a
better chance of escape. Either way we have to go after them."

Lem nodded, unable to fault the boy's logic. "Scrappy, wait till we get in
position then run close enough to be seen, bark for their attention and head
back this way."

Mulder retreated and put his back to an aged oak tree. Lem stayed where
he was and hid behind a maple. He would let the target pass so that he'd be
covered front and back.

Scrappy moved, three loud barks cut through the air.

"Shit! It's the dog." Lem could hear the rifleman fairly well. "Webb this is
Base two, we have a visual on the dog. SHIT, he's running. I'm in pursuit.
Repeat I'm in pursuit."

Scrappy sped past Lem's position as did the gunman. He must have caught
sight of Lem out of the corner of his eye because he spun, bringing up his
gun.

"Drop it." Mulder's voice was soft, but deadly. Lem grinned as he brought
up his own weapon, already in hand,and took aim. "One move - twitch so
much as a muscle I don't tell you to - and you turn into tree fertilizer. I
SAID drop the gun."

The rifle hit the forest loam. 

"Now call your friend and tell him you have the dog but need some help
dragging him back. I'm warning you, any tricks, and you won't have time to
blink before I blow your head off. Cooperate and you just might live
through this." Their hostage glared daggers at Lem as he was facing him.

The man moved one hand slowly for the radio strapped to his shoulder.
"Base one, this is base two. I have the dog, but he's putting up a fight. I'm
gonna need some help if we're gonna bring him in alive."

####

A quick rap to the head with a rock had both men unconscious. Mulder
watched Lem pick up one of the rifles and checked it. "I think I'm gonna
trade in, you?" He looked at Mulder who was tying both unconscious men
to a tree with nylon cord they had had on them. 

"Nope. I prefer my own, thanks. If I drop that one it would trip me." He
smiled tensely, but Lem missed the joke. "Nice of them to come prepared."
He finished the last knot with a savage jerk. He really didn't much care if
they couldn't feel their hands when they woke up.

Lem nodded his approval then did something totally unexpected. He drew
his Sig Sauer and shot each man, once in the outer thigh. Their legs jumped
with the shot but both men remained unconscious.

Shocked, Mulder shoved the older man hard, sending him to the ground.
"What the hell did you do that for?"

"They'll live, even walk again, but when their buddy upstairs figures out
where they are and unties them this is two less we have to worry about
following US into the woods. Which reminds me we better get outta here
before he lands or calls for backup."

Mulder still didn't know what to make of Lem. He made sense, and dammit
the gunshots WOULDN'T do permanent damage, but shooting men who
were out...

He shook his head and decided to keep an eye on his supposed ally.
Without further discussion he moved off into the woods, heading for the
Mill.

                                     #####

Dana had stopped, taking in great, gulping lungfuls of air that seared her
throat and lungs. She had to rest. She had to have gained enough of a lead
to take a few seconds to breathe normally again before continuing. She'd
completely lost sight of Buster, and was glad. She was certain he was
ahead of her. He was safe.

She looked around her and got her bearings. Not too much further. She
was almost to the mill.

                                     #####

"Base one, Base two, report." Webb held his radio on one hand, his gun in
the other. "Base one, Base two report." Two minutes of radio silence after
a presumed sighting of the dog.

The radio crackled to life. "Sir they haven't come out of the woods yet."
The chopper pilot reported.

"Can you see anything?" Webb asked. 

The line opened again. "Negative. Just leaves. I told you summer was the
worst time for air visibility."

Webb looked at the three men with him. "Sommers, keep an eye to our
rear, we might have trouble coming from behind. Any sign of our quary
yet?"

Thompson looked up from where he squatted in this miserable excuse for a
trail. "Sneaker print, looks like someone running. They stuck to leaves and
rocks most likely, but hit bare dirt here and over there. Small. Probably the
woman."

"Any sign of the dog?"

"No sir." 

                                     #####

Clear! Dana Scully would have laughed if she could. The second most
welcome sight in the world was just a hundred yards ahead. The crumbling
Mill. She leaned forward, hands on her thighs and just rested. Waited until
sounds other than her heartbeat filtered through her ears. Till her side was
only a dull ache instead of a sharp pain. Looking along the rocky riverbank
she saw no sign of Buster. But then he was most likely hiding.

"Buster?" Her call sounded weak in her own ears. "BUSTER!" That was
better.

No sound. No movement. Shit, where could he be? Please, she prayed,
don't let him have gotten lost in the woods.

                                     #####

Buster moved back, finding a good hollow in the earth. By the smell it had
once been a burrow for a fox family. He felt his lips curl up, not in a snarl,
but a grin. Talk about good omens. Joe had believed in Omens. It had
rubbed off a little. He had seen Dana move past him, and made no move to
alert her to his presence. Wait for them to pass, then come from behind...

He didn't have long to wait. He was surprised at how quickly they had
tracked her. They must have an expert with them. Damn, she had no more
than a fifteen minute lead at best.

Seeing the four dark men with guns stalk past, nervous, almost as if they
EXPECTED him to jump them from behind. Damn, damn, damn... this
might be harder then he thought. He waited a five more minutes, till they
were certainly well out of sight before getting ready to move. Before he did
however he saw something else. Another man, keeping low, eyes focused
forward. He looked like he was hunting the men who were hunting Dana
and himself. He certainly didn't act like he was part of the previous group.

Once that man passed, Buster slunk out of the burrow... following silently.

                                     #####

"Buster?" Scully peered under a section of Mill wall that had fallen away.
The inside stand of mold, rot, and the excrements of animals who'd made
their homes inside at various times. She pulled back from the smell a bit.
She'd gone over the surrounding woods and the outside of the mill so far,
and still there was no sign of Buster. 

She stepped cautiously over the debris of the log chute, climbing up onto
one of the metal braces, gaining enough elevation to get a better look
around. To see a bit further both up and down river. 

"Hands in the air Ms. Scully." The rough voice startled her and she spun,
almost losing her balance. Four men stood at the treeline, all carrying rifles.
SHIT!

Scully raised her hands. 

"Now toss the gun in our direction... carefully." The man who spoke
seemed to be in charge, his rifle was trained on her.

She looked around for any option. The remains of this chute made lousy
cover. Another round of curses went through her mind - an impressive
string only the offspring of a sailor could formulate on such short notice.
Nevertheless she threw down her gun.

Then another voice cut in. "Drop it Webb!"

                                     #####

Cook had him in his sights. He didn't care about the three assault team
members. They wouldn't move without Webb's command. He smiled as he
commanded Webb to drop his gun. "I know you killed those people in
Annapolis. Right now I have a my gun aimed right at your head. Drop your
guns, all of you, or Jackie boy gets another hole in his head."

Buster took in the scene before him. The man he'd been behind was NOT
with the bad guys. It made his job a bit easier. 

The balding short human had his gun on the tall, dark man, and the tall
dark man had his gun on Dana, as did the other three men. "I said DROP
IT." The rifleman to the side began to swing around. Cook's gun
automatically swung to face this threat. That was when the man on the
other side turned to enter the fray. Buster was only peripherally aware of
Dana diving for her gun. He was going for the second rifleman. Just as the
second man brought his gun on the short man the short man fired twice at
the man who first moved, sending him flying backwards. The second man
only caught sight of a black mass of fur and sharp teeth. He didn't have a
chance to scream before his was knocked off his feet by Buster's weight
even as canine teeth sank into his throat.

Webb, checking what was going on behind him in a second's glance saw his
target dive off the metal support she'd been on, going for her gun. He fired
once, twice, and was rewarded by the sight of her body jerking back once,
then again. He saw the tell tale spray of blood before before she spun and
landed in the river. She was quickly pulled under by the swift current. 



Chapter 20. 
--------------

Dana felt as if she'd been punched not once, but twice. One blow catching
her shoulder, the other grazing her side. The force spun her body and she
was helpless against it. Her mind barely registered - Oh my God, I've been
shot- before icy water engulfed her. 

                                     #####

The gunshots echoed weakly throughout the woods. Mulder paused for a
second, hearing them. Then all precepts of stealth disappeared as he headed
out at a full run. Lem saw the way the younger man was moving. By the
way he moved Lem could tell he was made to run. Lem knew he'd never be
able to catch him. 

"Scrappy, go... keep him out of trouble."

The Dog wagged it's tail then tore off after Mulder.

                                     #####

The third gunman drew a bead on the dog that had just ripped the throat
out of his cohort, only to go down as Cook shot him as well.

Webb swung around and landed a punch against Cook's temple, sending
the smaller man to the ground, his glasses flying off into the woods. He
aimed to shoot his former partner but Cook's legs tangled with Webb's and
he pulled them out from under him. Each man locked their free hand
around the wrist of their opponent's gun hand. The struggle began. 
X 

Buster was running for the water. No. No. This wasn't supposed to
happen. Not to Dana. Not to sweet, kind, good hearted Dana. The Dog
dove into the water as he saw her surface briefly, sputtering before being
pulled under again. He swam along with the current and fought going
under himself until he was right next to her. He saw her shirt just below the
water. 

Buster dove. He felt the pulling in his injured side and ignored it. He
couldn't see very well through the muddy water, but he felt his nose brush
against fabric and he locked his teeth down. Kicking and swimming for all
he was worth he broke the surface. He felt water fill his nose, but refused
to let go, feeling it burn his lungs. He tried not to release the hold he had
on Dana's shirt as he choked, trying to swim with her to the shore. He
tasted her blood on the shirt. What had he done? He might have gotten her
killed.

                                     #####

Mulder saw two men up ahead, struggling for their guns. The larger man
smashed his head into the nose of the smaller one, sending him down,
momentarily stunned.

"Freeze! Federal Agent!" Mulder brought his own Smith and Wesson to
bear.

The larger man sneered and brought his gun up to aim at Mulder. Mulder
pulled the trigger, watching part of the man's head disappear as he fell
backwards and off his opponent.

The smaller man sat up, gingerly holding his smashed nose. He looked at
Mulder and tossed his own gun into the woods.

"Your Parder. He shod 'er." His words were nasal around his broken nose.
"She fell indo da river. Wend under. The Dog... dink he wend afder..."

Mulder looked to the river and his heart froze. He saw, down river, the
black shape of Buster trying to pull something to shore. Then both the Dog
and it's burden went under. 

"SCULLY!" He ran for the water, tossing his gun aside without thought as
he dove in. This couldn't be happening. He couldn't lose her now. Not now,
so soon after really finding her.

He heard another splash not far from him as he swam with sure, practiced
strokes, bringing him closer to where the two had disappeared. Scrappy
was by his side. The dog propelling itself awkwardly, but swiftly, to the
same goal.

There. He saw them bob at the surface briefly before going under once
more. 

He dove. His hand caught a fistful of fur and he pulled. His other hand
grasped an arm. Holding both burdens he kicked for the surface, fighting
his own burning lungs and fatigue as well as the current. 

As soon as he broke the surface he felt Buster pulled from his grip.
Scrappy had his 'cousin's' collar and was dragging the limp form to the
shore.

Mulder locked his arm under Scully's and followed suit.

As Mulder pulled her limp form over the rocky ground he saw Lem and the
man with the broken nose running at them. Mulder frantically felt for a
pulse along Dana's throat. She was ghastly pale. Blood stained her shirt and
was pooling thinly beneath her on the rocks. He couldn't find a pulse.
Jesus! No Pulse.

"Dana, don't you leave me. Not now... Please, baby, not now." Laying her
down he turned her head and pushed in her diaphragm, making a U motion
and forcing the water out. He saw water spew from her mouth and felt the
first stirring of hope push past the desperation. Then he began CPR. He
cleared her airway and tilted her head back before trying to pass his own
breath into her, a mockery of a kiss. Nothing. Once more, Mulder watched
her chest rise only as he forced the air into her. 

Lem was working on Buster, pushing on the dog's chest, trying to pump
the water out of his lungs.

Then the man with the broken nose was there. He had his hands positioned
on Scully's chest and he began pressing down, counting as he went. Mulder
only barely realized he was working the buddy system. He compressed "1,
2, 3, 4, 5!" Mulder bent to exhale, watching her chest rise as he breathed
for her. One breath, one desperate attempt to force her lungs to breathe air
again. Then the other man compressed again. 

As he watched this stranger trying to get the blood flowing he had a
horrible flashback, a perfect memory of himself working on another small
body by another riverbank. It hadn't been CPR that had saved that victim.

Then he heard the most welcome sound he ever had. Scully choking. He
might laugh about it later, but hearing her struggle to breath was a relief.
He turned her on her side where she emptied water from her lungs. She
shook terribly as she sputtered and coughed, then drew in a huge gasp of
air before falling into another coughing fit. He looked up at the man with
the broken nose. He didn't know him, but he had never felt more grateful.

He felt himself crying, weeping for joy. He held her as she filled her lungs
with air again. His eyes finally falling on Lem, still pushing against Buster's
side. Scrappy was sitting at the dog's head, whining softly.

                                     #####

Dana Scully woke up to find Mulder seated beside her. As he noticed her
eyes open one of the brightest smiles she had ever seen from him lit his
face. She felt him grip her hand. She recognized the sterile environment of
a hospital room. 

"Where am I?" Her voice sounded worn, even to herself.

"Georgetown University Hospital. You were brought here as soon as you
were deemed stable. You scared the hell out of me back there." He reached
up and she felt his fingers trace the curve of her cheek. 

"What happened?" She licked her lips and took stock of the damage. She
was feeling surprisingly little pain, but it was fairly hard to think straight.
Ahhh... drugs could be nice sometimes.

"When I got there Buster was trying to pull you to shore, but he got pulled
under as well. I had met up with Lem Johnson and he and I had arrived to
find you were having a party without me." His eyes were still haunted, and
she could see him blaming himself for leaving her alone. How long had she
been out? How long had he been playing the game of self-blame. "Uh... We
both have some time off. It seems we really did have a murder witness with
us. At least that's what the report says, and what one Harold Cook has
sworn to. He's pressed murder and conspiracy to murder charges on some
pretty high up people in the NSA. He's given sworn testimony, but by the
time arrests were to be made everyone he could finger was conveniently
dead, including the regional director of the NSA. It was supposedly
suicide. Um.... Our murder witness has since disappeared himself."

Scully was completely lost. "What are you talking about?" 

"One of the people tracking us wasn't into murder and coverups Scully. He
tried to stop it as best he could. His specialty was tracking people who
don't want to be found, so my guess is he knew when he pressed charges
he'd be a dead man. Knowing how to find people also lets you learn how
not to be found." Mulder seemed slightly amused by that. 

"Maybe you should tell me all about what officially happened when I can
think straight." She sighed, and sank into the hospital bed, closing her eyes.
"I am so tired."

"You're mom will be here soon. She's been coming every day for the past
three days."

"Three days?" Her eyes shot back open.

"Gunshot to the shoulder, flesh wound along your rib. They just took you
off oxygen yesterday. You just want to compete to see which of us can run
the highest hospital bill. You can't fool me." He winked at her, and she felt
herself smile in response.

"By the way... I think your mother... I think she knows. About us I mean. I
didn't say anything but..."

Scully chuckled softly. "My mom is a very observant woman, and she
probably went home and did a jig. She likes you Mulder." Her smile faded.
"I have to thank Buster, not only for bringing us together, but for saving
my life. Where is he? Did this Johnson character get him somewhere safe?"

Mulder's eyes looked slightly pained but he pasted a smile on his face for
her. "Later. Rest now. I want you healed up and home as soon as possible.
I've been contenting myself with my video collection but it just isn't the
same."

"I knew you just wanted me for my body." She shook her head. "Well... I
have to admit, it's a very nice body, when it isn't full of holes. But I kinda
like the mind and soul that goes with it. Oh and look, " he ran his fingers
lightly around the gauze bandage on her shoulder, "now we have matching
scars."

"Better then a tatoo." She smiled as her eyes fluttered shut once again, and
sleep overtook her.



Chapter 21. 
--------------- 
Epilogue:

Mulder held the door to her apartment open for Scully. She walked in for
the first time in weeks and was greeted by the wonderful smell of...
lasagna.

"Mulder what's going on? She turned to face him as he closed the door
behind him. 

"Well I called those exterminators we discussed and your apartment is now
free of bugs. Don't worry, I was here while they worked. Frohike didn't get
near your underwear drawer." He grinned.

"And I came by to make sure you didn't have to worry about dinner your
first night back." Margret Scully stepped out of the kitchen. "Your dinner
is in the oven." She finished wiping her hands on a dishrag. "Now I've got
to be going."

Scully's shock at seeing her mother emerge from her kitchen was quickly
overcome. "You didn't have to mom."

"I know that,. But I'm your mother. It's a mothers joy to do little things for
her children." She smiled and Dana noticed her mother looking at Fox as
well when she said this.

"Well... at least stay for dinner."

"Nope. I have plans. So do you. Now the lasagna won't be ready for about
an hour. I'll leave you two alone to catch up on... work... or whatever. It's
great to see you home and well darling." Margret kissed Dana's cheek.
"And it's always nice to see you too, Fox." She patted Mulder's cheek as
she swept past and collected her purse from by the door. 

"Just don't keep her up TOO late." She winked and closed the door on
Dana's shocked "MOTHER!"

Mulder just shrugged and moved into the kitchen. With a childish curiosity
he opened the oven to see the lasagna. Then he noticed the bottle of wine
on the kitchen table.

"What's this?" He picked it up. No Label other then a hand written 'W.
Scully 1986'

Dana took the bottle. "It's one of Billy's wines. My brother has made
winemaking his hobby for years now, and he's got a talent for it." She
handed it back. "Corkscrew is in the top drawer. Open it up. Mom
obviously left it here for us."

"Um... with your medication should you..."

Scully raised a delicate eyebrow. "Bill's wines are very light Mulder.
Besides I'll only have one glass. I already HAVE a mother." 

Mulder smirked and fetched the corkscrew while Scully leafed through her
backed up mail. She came across one letter in unfamiliar handwriting. The
postmark was from California. She opened it carefully and smiled at the
picture that fell out. It was a photo of a group of dogs. All Retrievers, and
all, but one, Golden. The one in the center, next to a retriever with greying
fur, was a single black Dog. All the Dogs, from the greying one to the
puppies frolicking to one side seemed to be grinning. Dana counted, twenty
two in this shot. Dana was certain the greying dog in the center was
Einstein. The First Dog, as Buster had called him, capitalizing the words
with reverence. 

Dana smiled at the picture and handed it to Mulder after he removed the
wine cork

"Listen to this Mulder. Dear friends, Our mutual friend has returned to his
family. He is recovering well, and his lungs have cleared up to the point
where he was chasing after some of the puppies. He's met a cousin who
had come in with her family for a minor celebration, and I'm pretty sure it's
love at first sight. If it is, it will only be the third union between 'equals' in
their family history. The previous two have proven to be bonds as strong as
any WE might establish. Lucky Dog. Lucky world. We need more of them.

His new friend is working out just fine, and was deeply honored to be
chosen as his protector. Mr. Baker has been employed at Hyatt Real Estate
as a computer consultant and Data Processor. He's also proven an adept
hand at poker, he even managed to beat the Johnsons. Which is no small
feat. He says he doesn't much miss his old nose. He hopes all is well with
you, and assures you that Our Friend is in good hands. BTW, he has your
e-mail address Ms. Scully, so don't be surprised if you hear from either of
them soon. They were both quite worried about you. With respect, Samuel
Hyatt."

Mulder smiled at the picture. It had been a close call. Johnson's knowledge
of veterinary medicine was minimal at best. But shortly after Scully had
rejoined the world of the living Buster had begun coughing up water. All of
them somehow made it to the van and got away. Cook explained what he
could as they drove. Much as they were worried about Scully and Buster
they didn't stop at a hospital until they were in New York state. Johnson
had taken Buster to a nearby animal hospital, where Buster's black coat
came in handy. The vet never thought to report a black mixed breed.
Mulder and Scully had not seen Buster again. They had seen Johnson and
Cook, and with them Mulder concocted one of the biggest campaigns of
disinformation he's ever taken part in. Cook was willing to testify, so he
became the witness they had supposedly run off with to protect. Any
mention of Buster was kept out of the report Mulder had handed to
Skinner.

Mulder poured the wine and held out Scully's glass, enjoying the electric
tingle as her hand brushed over his.

"To Buster." He raised his glass slightly.

"To Buster, may he sire many puppies." Scully grinned and sipped at the
fruity red wine.

"How's your shoulder doing?" Mulder's tone was conversational, but his
eyes were almost glowing.

"I haven't put it to the test yet. But... I think I need you to kiss my side to
make it better." She managed to keep a straight face as she sipped her
wine.

Mulder took the wine glasses and set them on the table, before sweeping
down to claim Scully's mouth in a kiss. She opened to him instantly,
wanting him as much as he wanted her. They tasted the wine on each other
and shared their breath. Scully shivered as Mulder's tongue filled her
mouth, dueling with hers before exploring her teeth, the roof of her mouth,
her lips. She answered him in kind, wrapping one arm around his neck to
hold him close. His left hand cradled the base of her head as his right
stroked slowly down her side, sending a shiver through her.

He broke the kiss, leaving her both thankful for air and disappointed at the
loss of contact. 

"Are you sure? I mean, you haven't completely healed. This can wait..." His
eyes held the sweet combination of concern and desire.

"I'm sure Mulder. If we do anything that hurts I'll be sure to tell you." She
reached forward to lightly cup his cheek. He turned his head to kiss the
center of her palm, sending a warm tingle through her arm. Her thumb
caressed his cheek, now devoid of the dark bruise. She smiled suddenly.
"You know, this relationship may be hazardous to our health, every time
we make love one of us is wounded."

"I suppose it's better than being wounded BECAUSE we're making love."
He kissed her lips softly, his hands undoing the buttons of her blouse. "I
think your mother said we have an hour."

Scully twisted out of his arms and went to the stove, turning the heat down
a bit. "Now we have a bit more. You better make it count."

He held out his hand. She took it and allowed him to lead her into her
bedroom. Once inside he kissed her again, a possessive, claiming kiss. He
finished unbuttoning her blouse and let it fall to the floor and he undid the
fastening of her bra. His mouth moved over her throat, his soft lips barely
brushing her. His tongue, however, was hot and wet as it danced across her
skin. She began undoing the buttons of his shirt as well. Her hands were
shaking in response to the sensations Mulder was making course through
her body.

She cursed softly as she worked on the last of the buttons, not aided in the
least by Mulder, whose incredibly sensual mouth was too busy exploring
her collarbone. She almost laughed. She was unflinching when facing
possible aliens, mutants and the ire of her superiors and what makes her
lose it? A horny partner whose mouth and hands were capable of the most
amazing things.

She released his shirt when he pulled her bra straps off of her arms.
Chuckling softly he pulled his shirt over his head, still half buttoned. She
reached for his pants, allowing her hands to brush against him as she undid
the fastenings. Before she could pull them down he backed her up so that
the back of her knees hit the edge of her bed. He slid his body down hers as
he went to his knees in front of her. The delicious friction of him sliding
down her body sent an aching heat through her to pool in her center. 

He undid her pants and slid them off, followed by her underwear. His arms
wrapped around her, his hands holding her shoulders - avoiding the still
healing gunshot wound - kept her from moving as his mouth began to rain
light kisses on her breasts. Once he had completely covered each pale
mound with the feathery brush of his lips he graced the hardened tips with
a single brush each. Then she felt it. The searing wetness of his tongue
following the outer curve of her right breast, gliding over her hot skin. He
left a cooling trail behind as he spiraled inward, completely bathing that
breast before flicking his tongue over the peak several times, making her
moan. She felt him start the same treatment on her left breast and her knees
shook. His arms tightened around her, holding her up as his mouth seduced
her. Feeling his tongue pass rapidly over her nipple, teasing it further
inflamed that yearning center of her. Her fingers were laced in his hair,
feeling the short strands tickle her palms as she tried to force his mouth
where she wanted him, needed him to be. When he at last took one nipple
into his mouth. He pinched it lightly between his teeth before suckling. At
that she was melting. Her insides turned to molten fluidity. She felt the
wetness at her core immediately followed by a tightening bringing a small
cry from her. A tiny orgasm took her. She felt his mouth leave her and she
mewled a protest. She looked down to see him looking up at her, a cocky
grin on his face.

"Was that what I think it was?" He asked her, his eyes sparkling. "Shut up
and don't stop." She whispered. He moved to the other breast, working it
as he had the first. Dana Scully had heard the term 'putty in someone's
hands' before, but she had never understood precisely what the expression
meant until that moment.

He eased her back on the bed so that she lay down, her knees draped over
the edge. His arms slid out from under her caressing her sides - missing the
line of small stitches along her right bottom rib - sliding over her hips,
along the front of her thighs. Then each hand cupped a knee, fingers
teasing the backs before pulling them further apart. Opening her legs.

She felt him running his mouth over her body, kissing, nipping, licking
along her ribs, only a feather light series of lip brushes over her flesh
wound and the briefest of pauses before his hands caressed her legs. His
naked chest moved against her, she could feel the fabric of his pants
between her thighs as he knelt before her. His tongue dipped into her navel
then swirled a circle around it. His mouth pressed lower. The weight his
hands were at the top of her thighs, against her abdomen. Felt his thumbs
move to spread her folds just before his tongue traced their outline. She
gasped and arched her back. She felt the fingers of one of his hands gliding
down where her leg joined her body before stroking her. Two long fingers
press into her as his tongue moved over her, lapping at her, teasing her
center as his fingers began to move in and out. His other hand slid up her
body to cup her breast, teasing the peak and caressing the flesh.

The rhythm of his stroking fingers, the workings of his tongue made Scully
helpless. She couldn't do anything but writhe under his ministrations. She
felt the wave wash over her. Drowning her. Her thighs tightened around his
head as her muscles clenched. She bit back the scream that leaped to her
throat as voluptuous pulses of ecstasy swept through her.

Her limbs were heavy. Her body completely relaxed as her breathing slowly
returned to normal. A few seconds ago she wasn't sure if she would ever
recover.

She felt Mulder move away and looked down to see him removing his
pants. God he was beautiful. All smooth lines and grace. He had the lean
body of a great hunting cat, and the hungry look in his eyes at this moment
would have rivaled any such animal's. Something within Scully quivered -
unsure if she could survive any more, but more than willing to find out.

Mulder leaned over to scoop her up in his arms as if she were a small child.
He moved her further up on the bed, setting her down gently. He lowered
his body on top of hers. Supporting himself on his elbows she felt the full
length of him pressing against her, his arousal laying between her thighs -
hot and hard. With their size difference he could cover her completely. For
a fleeting moment she realized just how easy it would be for him to hurt
her. The thought was accompanied by the absolute surety that he never
would, not willingly anyway.

He nuzzled her neck and she felt enough strength in her arms to wrap them
around him, to stroke him from buttocks to shoulders, feeling the heat of
his skin, the flow of muscle and sinew, to acknowledge to restrained power
there. 

He groaned against her neck, his lips faltering in their exploration. Smiling
to herself she did it again, then allowed her hands to roam. She bent her
head to kiss his shoulder, tasting the thin sheen of sweat there. He curled
into her, rubbing himself against her curls and gasping against her skin. He
pulled his head up and looked into her eyes.

"Do you have any idea how much I love you?" His voice was rough over
the words.

"I have some inkling, yes." She smiled up at him as she arched her back,
pressing and moving against his length. He closed his eyes and gritted his
teeth. When she stopped he opened them again. She loved his eyes. They
were so expressive. Even when he wore his most indifferent mask, his eyes
told her all she needed to know. The most beautiful combination of colors
came from their hazel depths. From the most vivid green to soft brown to a
velvet black - like they were now. She kissed him, tasting his mouth,
herself, the sunflower seeds he'd eaten earlier, her brother's wine. His
tongue slid sinuously against hers. His lips pressed harder, almost bruising
as his tongue invaded her, explored her, teased her.

He curled against her again and she broke away. "Please..."

He nodded and his knee nudged her legs apart. She bent and parted her
legs as he positioned himself. With one smooth surge forward he filled her.
The friction delicious, the sensation alone unbearable. He kissed the
underside of her chin as she arched up to meet him, throwing her head
back.

Her hands flowed over him as he moved. Each slow thrust drawing a
whimper from her and an answering gasp from him. His movements
increased and he rotated his hips with each downward thrust, filling her and
rubbing against her core at the same time. As the pace increased she felt it
building again. His thrusts became shallower but faster. His head was
tucked at her shoulder she felt the soft kiss through the gauze covering her
shoulder, his breath hot against her neck.

"Dana," He said her name like an invocation, a prayer, "Come for me,
again." His words were soft. She was close, so close... She looked at him
as he moved his head to face her. "I love to see you face when you come.
To hear your voice break on my name." His voice was strained, but his
eyes were sincere. Desire and love flowed from him.

"Mulder, Fox..." She gasped and he surged forward again. "Fox I'm
almost..." And she was there. Once more falling into the vortex of
sensation, of complete pleasure. She convulsed around him as she cried his
name, his first name.

He still thrust into her as she came, prolonging it, drawing it out for an
eternity. She cried out with the beauty, the glory of it.

"Dana, "His breath curled around her ear, her name an endearment.
"Danaaaa." He cried out as he came, spilling himself into her. 

Exhausted they lay together. He rolled , still joined to her, so that she lay
draped over him, limp and unmoving. She knew he was afraid of crushing
her, or further injuring her shoulder.

Alone, together - basking in the afterglow of their lovemaking - they could
feel perfect happiness and contentment. If only for a little while. Knowing
with absolute surety that come what may, they were loved.

Somewhere in the world a Dog was wagging his tail.

The End of DD I.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

WARNING: MSR and NC-17. 100% Pure mind candy. You know what
that means kiddies. Don't look for any complicated plots here. If that
bothers you, don't read this. Just Skip to D. D. II. :)

INTERLUDE I: LINEN AND STEEL 



"Scully? You there?" Mulder let himself into her apartment. Resorting to
using his key only after repeated knocking had no effect. "Scully?" 

Still no answer, and he tried to suppress a rising tide of panic. There were a
thousand reasons why she wouldn't be home. An emergency food run. An
errand she forgot about. A trip to the video store. The apartment was as
neat as always, no signs of struggle. His eyes darted nervously to the lamp
placed on a table in front of the window. 

Ok there were at lease a DOZEN reasons for her not to be home. Except
that it was Friday night. They were not working in the field right now. He
hadn't seen her except for a brief hello this morning in the office as she was
working a consult on a case for VC. Friday night, the night one or the
other of them found some secluded out-of-the-way restaurant, usually
driving an hour or more to ensure they wouldn't be caught. Ever since they
fell prey to canine cleverness and allowed a Dog to not only take over their
lives, but trick them into admitting how they had felt all along. This had
been their designated 'date' night for the past three months. Not that they
ever limited their time 'together' to Friday nights. Whenever they could
steal the time, they spent it with one another while trying to maintain the
outward illusion of a platonic partnership. Trying to look as if they didn't
spend most nights finding new ways to make each other writhe and scream
with pleasure. 

He checked the kitchen. A bottle of wine sat on the counter. Opened, and
airing. A piece of paper, folded so that it stood upright before the bottle.
Two words in Scully's familiar handwriting. "Drink me." Two glasses sat
next to it. He frowned. What the hell? He sniffed at the open bottle. It
smelled alright. Apricots and a hint of orange if his nose wasn't deceiving
him. The label was hand printed. "W. Scully- 1984" One of her brother's
home brews, which Mulder knew from experience were quite good. 

He poured two glasses of the pale gold wine, only after double checking
the note. No hesitation to her writing, nothing to indicate anything was
wrong. So she'd left him a note of sorts. It still didn't explain where she was
or what was going on. 

He sipped at the wine, rolling it on the tip of his tongue before allowing it
to slide down his throat. It was dry and light, and most definitely apricot.
The usual Bill Scully fine quality. He really did have to meet this elusive
older brother some day. 

There was nothing else in the kitchen. He took his own wine glass and
peeked into the bathroom. Nothing. Then he made his way to the bedroom.
The bed was made with crisp white sheets, the comforter folded down.
There was a note pinned to the top sheet. Setting his glass on the night
stand he unpinned it and read it. 

'Take your clothes off and get in the bed.' He smiled to himself. Just what
game was she playing? Ok. He could handle this. He trusted her. There
were no signs of hesitation in this note either. It was written smoothly in
Scully's neat script. So, he thought to himself, we are definitely not going
out tonight. 

He took another mouthful of the wine and began to undress. He'd gone
home and changed out of the standard FBI getup, preferring to dress
casually when he was off duty with Scully - as if the change in clothing
signaled the change in demeanor. Their suits were their armor, and there
was a certain touch-me-not attitude that went with them. An attitude they
preferred to shed, at least with each other, when they weren't working. 

As he pulled his polo shirt over his head he felt her. It wasn't a physical
touch. He just knew, on an instinctive level, that she was in the apartment
now. She hadn't been before. He listened. She was being very quiet. There
was no sense of menace or danger to the air. He folded his shirt - not
because he was the neatest person in the world, but because he knew she
hated crumpled clothes on the floor. 

He felt her eyes on him, but when he looked to the doors he saw nothing.
He didn't wonder at his certainty that she was somewhere, out of sight,
watching him. No - not somewhere, in the bathroom. Nor would he,
believer that he was, ever ascribe such knowledge to some ethereal psychic
bond. No, they knew each other too well. It was the automatic awareness
of two people who knew everything about one another, the innate ability of
partners who depend on each other for their very lives; to know the
location of each other. And to top it all off he could just make out the trace
of her spicy perfume. 

Knowing she was watching him made getting undressed an erotic
experience. That she received pleasure from watching his body was
incredibly arousing. He removed his shoes before unbuttoning and
unzipping his chinos, sliding them slowly to the floor before bending to
scoop them up and fold them, laying them on top of his shirt. Clad only in
boxers, he smiled to himself - taking his time removing his watch first,
setting it on the night stand. Only after stretching the moment as far as he
could did he remove the black silk of his boxers. Turning his back to the
bathroom door, he allowed the soft slide of the fabric to caress him as they
slid off. 

Keeping his back to the door he lingered over another mouthful of wine
before sliding quietly between the crisp, clean sheets. 

He kept his eyes on the bathroom door. She came from the side, having
watched him in the mirror. In one hand she held her own wine glass. The
other was behind her back. She wore one of his shirts, with the sleeves
rolled up and tied in a knot at her navel, over a tank top and denim cut-off
shorts. Her hair was pulled back in a pony tail, yet little wisps escaped,
refusing to be tamed. She looked very young in those clothes, that hair
style. 

"Enjoying yourself?" He asked teasingly. As her azure eyes raked over his
form under the thin concealment of the sheets, a familiar carnal heat spread
through him. 

She sipped from her wine glass and licked her lips before setting it down
beside his on the night stand. 

"Immensely." She wore that secretive little smile on her perfect lips. The
ones that told him she knew something that he didn't, and he was going to
have to figure it out on his own. She sat on the edge of the bed and leaned
over to kiss him. Her tongue played along his lips, begging for entrance. He
opened to her, tasting the wine as well as her. One of his hands slid through
the bright coppery strands of her hair, holding her there as he answered her
kiss. Deepening it as he explored the well known textures and territories,
places rendered no less wondrous with familiarity - no less satisfying. It
wasn't simply her body he sought to explore and arouse, but her soul. All
that she was. She was everything to him: his anchor, his rock, his light and
his sanity. Three months ago he thought he could never love anyone as
much as he loved her. He was wrong. He loved her more every day. Her
dedication, her understanding, her courage... all that she was. He even
loved her skepticism. It kept him grounded. And that she could want him,
love him as well, was more then he ever expected in this lifetime. 

She moved away from his mouth to rain tiny kisses along his jaw. She ran
the back of her hand down his arm leaving a path of gooseflesh in it's wake.
She ran her tongue in a whirl around his ear , but it didn't disguise the
distinctive click. When she tugged his arm up he broke away to look at her
in surprise as he heard the second click. He tugged his arm to find himself
firmly handcuffed to the headboard. 

"Agent Scully as your superior officer I'm going to have to have a word
with you about your misuse of Bureau property." He moved his arm,
hearing the metal glide against wood, the slight noise of the steel links
jiggling together. 

"Ooooh, report me." She smiled her mona lisa smile and moved away from
him. Just out of reach. She slowly untied the front off her overshirt. HIS
shirt, and let it slide down her arms and off. She opened her closet and
hung it on a hook attached to the back of the door. Next she undid the
fastenings of her cut offs, hooking a thumb on either side as she dragged
them down and off her legs- placing them on the same hook. With one
swift move she peeled the tank top away. She hadn't been wearing a bra.
Next she hooked her thumbs in the top of her hunter green bikini briefs.
She eased them off, well aware of what each little move was doing to him.
She had eyes, and no matter how fresh the linens might be, there were
some things you just couldn't hide. Tossing the undergarment into the
hamper basket she closed the closet door and leaned back against it. 

"Enjoying yourself?" She arched one fine eyebrow, aware of his eyes
moving over her in an invisible caress. 

"Immensely." He grinned. He rattled the handcuffs on his wrist. "Care to
take these off?" 

She shook her head slowly as she advanced on the bed. "Nope. It seems to
me, recently, you have always been in control. Now I don't mind. Not
really. You make me feel things no one else has ever made me feel.
However, tonight *I* want to be in control. And Mulder, I guarantee you
won't be disappointed." 

"So these?" He looked at the shiny metal on his wrist. 

"Insurance. Much as I hate having to admit it you are bigger than I am, and
stronger. And if you get carried away... I probably couldn't stop you, not
that I'd want to much. But those," she pointed to the cuffs, "insure that all I
have to do is move away. It's all about control Mulder." 

She crawled up onto the bed next to him, moving so that her face hung in
front of his, her bright hair falling around her to tickle his cheeks. She
didn't touch him. "Do you trust me enough to give me control Mulder?"
Her breath, warm and sweet caressed his face. 

Mulder closed his eyes and swallowed hard. "Yeah, Yeah Scully, I trust
you with my heart, and my life." His voice was tight and rough as he spoke. 

There was a suspicious glimmer in her penetrating eyes for a moment, then
it passed and she smiled. She lowered her lips to his. Kissing him softly.
Sliding her lips over his then moving to cover every inch of his face with
tiny, light kisses. 

He grabbed the headboard with his free hand, determined to give her the
control she wanted. Her hands stroked his neck, his throat, leaving a path
which her lips quickly followed - their soft glide more a teasing nuzzle than
a kiss. 

Her hands glided over his shoulders and chest, tracing abstract patterns.
She began to kiss and lick his chest... her hot, wet tongue dancing over
flesh made suddenly over sensitive. He felt her breast brush lightly against
his side, the hardened nipple teasing a pattern down his ribs as Dana nipped
at one of his own nipples, bringing it immediately erect. She nuzzled and
suckled before crossing to the other side, dragging both breasts achingly
over his torso. He had to concentrate on keeping his free hand wrapped
around part of the headboard. The need to touch her was rapidly becoming
overwhelming. Didn't she understand? He wanted to make her feel these
things, he loved to make her feel loved and warm and wanted. He sought
her pleasure before his own because part of him still couldn't believe she
wanted to be with him, and he felt the need to prove his love, again and
again. But she was taking that away from him. 

She had moved down. Her tongue dancing lazy circles around his navel. A
rush of desire shot through him. He was hard now, and beginning to feel
the dull ache of need. 

She moved lower, covering his hips and abdomen with those little tastes,
the feel of her saliva cooling on his body was sexual in the extreme. Her
kisses glanced past where he wanted most to feel them right now, causing a
deep moan from him, and he felt her responding shiver. She allowed him
only the flirtatious gossamer touch of her hair passing over him as her
mouth fell on his thighs, her hands running up and down his legs. Only
when she had equally favored the tops of his feet did she look up at him.
He opened his eyes when he felt her stop, and glanced down his own prone
body, seeing her grinning at him ferally as she crawled back up the bed on
all fours. He felt her mouth close over him, her tongue doing the most
amazing things. He bit back a cry and couldn't help but arch upwards. He
released the headboard and his fingers found her hair, feeling it's cool
silkiness. 

One of her hands found his wrist and pulled it to his side, holding it there.
Her other hand moved to cup him, flexing her fingers to stimulate him, one
finger began lightly tracing that particularly sensitive fine line of flesh
behind his sac. His hips began to thrust as she added suction, taking him as
far into the searing wetness of her mouth as he could go. 

"God... Dana... I can't... I can't..." He tried to hold back. He really did, but
she wouldn't allow him. He felt the tide overtake him and he erupted into
her mouth. 

When it was over she moved away, tracing a straight line to his mouth with
kisses. His heart still pounding in his ears, his breath still coming in gasps
she kissed him, sharing the taste of himself. He felt the tears sliding down
his face before he realized they were there. Her soft fingertips brushed
them away. 

"I wanted... to make you happy." 

Scully smiled and lay her head on his chest, her body draped over his so he
could feel her nakedness pressed against him. "You did. I wanted control
and I got it. In giving me control you were free. Don't you see? When you
take control, when you hold back to make sure you please me... I feel as if
you're holding back part of yourself. I need you to lose control once in a
while. That is what makes me happy." 

"But that... what you just did... it couldn't have done much for you." 

She laughed, a deep sensual sound that made her body shake on top of him.
She took his free hand and placed it on her backside, allowing his long
fingers to feel her there, incredibly wet. "You can't imagine how horny I am
right now Mulder. THAT did for me alright." 

She gasped as his fingers moved, stroking her. 

"Unlock these damn cuffs and I'll see what I can do about that." 

She leaned forward to kiss the tiny cleft of his chin before opening the
nightstand drawer and extracting the keys. The way her body stretched
against his as she reached to unlock them stimulated tired nerves. Her
knees fell to either side of him, and he could feel her, hot and moist against
his stomach. 

He checked his wrist and saw that he hadn't done any damage. Freed at last
he began to explore her as she lay there. His hands gently but firmly
stroking her sides, her buttocks, the tops of her thighs. His finger lightly
skimming her folds, making her try to press back into his touch, but he
would move them away. For a half hour he teased and tormented her so.
After deciding enough was enough she moved forward a bit, dragging
herself over him, so she could kiss him. Then he was lost in her again. The
feel, the taste, the scent all wove around him, entrapping him in its spell. 

He felt himself growing hard again. The soft sounds that they made as they
touched and caressed were incidental. At last he allowed his fingers to find
her center, gently circling that point, barely touching it as she began to rock
against him. 

She moved away from his kiss and he felt her slide down, enfolding him in
her confining heat. She sat up, the sentation of being within her drew his
conscious mind up and away from himself leaving behind a creature of pure
animal instinct and need. His hands flowed up her body to caress her
breasts, to tease the nipple as she began to move. Slow, circular
movements designed to drive him mad. He sat up as well, placing most of
his weight on one arm as he tasted her throat, the salt of sweat, the
muskiness that was her, even the faint traces of her perfume. He sat up
further, interrupting her rhythm as he pushed her back slightly. Supporting
her weight with his arms, he felt her legs wrap around him. He traced a hot,
wet path from her throat to her breasts feasting on one, then the other as
they both rocked in a timeless dance. He felt it building... heard her cry out
as her arms tightened around him and her body tensed. She pulled him after
her and he didn't hold back, didn't try to make it last. He saw black spots
swim before his eyes as wave after wave of pleasure swept through them
both. 

Collapsing at last they lay side by side. "You know," he held the handcuffs
up, allowing them to dangle from his finger. "Maybe we should buy our
own set of these. Just so we don't get in trouble for damaging Bureau
equipment yet again." Scully grinned and kissed his mouth softly as she
took the handcuffs from his hand, placing them next to their wineglasses.
She reached over him and took another drink of wine. 

"Mulder... those are my own set." She set the glass back down and lay her
head on the crook of his arm, trying to ignore the wonderfully stunned
expression on his face. 

"You know, we haven't had dinner yet. And since we've already had
desert... how do you feel about chicken a l'orange?" 

"Those are yours?" He finally managed to sputter out. 

"Yup." 

He seemed to relax, "You bought a spare pair in case you lost the ones
from work." 

"Nope. I bought them last week with you in mind. And if you are a good
boy... I just might show you what else I bought... with you in mind." 

Mulder looked into the teasing eyes of the woman he adored. "You know
how I love to solve a mystery Scully." 

End Interlude I. 

------------------------------------------------------------------

What follows is more mind candy.

INTERLUDE II: THE GRAPES OF WRATH


Dana Scully was having a heavenly dream. She was swimming in the ocean.
The saltiness of the water sharp on her lips, the waves washing over her
naked form. Pulling her. Pushing her. Flowing around her. The cool water
caressing every inch of her skin as she swam, languidly. Unafraid and
relaxed.

The ocean suddenly formed solid arms that wrapped around her. Not
threatening, but uplifting. Warm, comforting arms. Then hot, soft lips that
kissed the back of her neck. She smiled brightly, closing her eyes and
letting the sensations take over.

She opened her eyes to her bedroom. The sunlight filtering softly through
the window. Laying on her stomach she reached out, still smiling, to find
the other side of her bed conspicuously empty. The white linen sheets cool
against her palm. The top sheet pushed aside. 

Her smile disappeared as she lifted her head from the pillow. The bathroom
door was open, and the lights off. No sound. She turned to look at the
clock on her night stand. It was ten in the morning. However it was
Saturday and a late, and happily exhausting, night removed any traces of
guilt over being a slugabed. She saw the sunlight sparkle of the edge of one
of the two wine glasses still sitting on her dresser and smiled once more.
Nope... not the least little bit guilty.

She slid out of bed and grabbed her terrycloth robe from the closet.
Wrapping it about herself she cautiously left the bedroom. As soon as she
opened the bedroom door she was overwhelmed by the wonderful smell.
Coffee.. and something else...

She peered around the kitchen door to see a strange man in her kitchen. Oh
she'd know that tall, lanky frame anywhere. Know every intimate detail, as
a matter of fact. Every texture of the dark brown hair that was even now
sticking up in any and every direction, and how the satin of his skin tasted.
What she did not know was the light, bounciness to his movements - that
was strange. And... was he humming? Yes... he was humming. She couldn't
make out the tune, because he was evidently trying to be quiet. Fox
Mulder, her friend, partner and for the past few months - lover, didn't hum.
Ever. 

She leaned against the door, content to watch him move around her kitchen
without being noticed herself.

He grabbed a pan off the stove and flipped it with an expert wrist action,
turning the pancake over without the benefit of a spatula. Scully was
impressed. Not only with the movement, but from the fact that she didn't
have any pancake mix in her cupboards, which meant he had made the
batter from scratch. She shook her head in amazement. No matter how
often she saw it... tasted it, it was impossible to reconcile the man who had
Quick-E Pizza on his speed dial, and who knew the names of everyone
who worked at the local take out Chinese and Thai restaurants - not only
could cook, but could preform miracles in the kitchen. 

He'd told her once he didn't like to cook for himself. "Not many recipes
say; serves one, Scully." He'd chuckled at it, but there was an underlying
hurt, loneliness to that simple statement. He did, however, cook for her on
occasion. And while he usually joked around any compliments she gave
him in that area, she knew he was delighted that she liked his cooking.
Such a simple, intimate part of himself he didn't share with anyone else. 

He turned to put the pancake on one of two plates on the counter and
caught sight of her. He smiled. One of those rare, thousand kilowatt smiles. 

"Breakfast is almost ready. Can you grab the jelly and butter for me?"

Scully reached into the cupboard and frowned. All she had left was grape
jelly. She didn't much care for it, and had originally picked it up by mistake.

She sat it on the table anyway and watched as Mulder spooned freshly
sliced strawberries and their juice on top of both plates of pancakes.

"Ok who are you and what did you do with the real Fox Mulder?" She
crossed her arms and looked at him grimly. He saw the amusement in her
eyes, however.

"Oh he's offline. This is personality number fifty six, Bobby." 

She just rolled her eyes and poured the coffee. He set the plates on the
table and joined her. Two strawberry pancakes, with the strawberry
topping, and a slice of toast. 

"So if Bobby is the one who feeds me like this... who was I with last
night?" She added cream to her coffee. 

"That was the original Mulder... he likes to keep you all to himself. He
makes the rest of us come out to do the hard stuff... like cooking or
scrubbing the toilet."

She tasted the pancakes. The strawberry flavor was wonderful and the
pancakes had a light texture. "Oh... I want Bobby chained to my stove."

"You seem to have developed a taste for restraints haven't you Scully?" He
smiled at her from across the table. 

They finished the pancakes in silence. Mulder wolfed down his while Scully
ate at a more leisurely pace. He buttered both slices of toast and reached
for the jelly. After spreading the toast he looked across the table and Scully
saw something dangerous. His was the look of a ten year old trying to
decide if a risk was worth it, adding a shine to the eyes. What the...

She was answered immediately by the cold, squishy blob that smacked right
next to her nose. The weapon from which this missile had been launched
shone in her partner's hand, still bearing the purple film of guilt.

She reached up and scooped the jelly from her face, examining it on her
finger tips. Glistening and dark, cool and slick and just a touch sticky. She
appeared to examine the offensive blob clinically. Hearing Mulder's low
chuckle across the table she looked up and flicked her fingers at him.

The splatter pattern was impressive for such a relatively small glop of grape
jelly. One dot hit the tip of his nose. Another just above his left eyebrow,
and yet another on his chin. He didn't seem to be angry... instead the first
stirrings of fear crept into Scully's heart. He smiled wider, his eyes
sparkling... and HE was holding the jar of jelly...

He dipped one long, tapered forefinger into the dark purpleness in the jar,
hooking a large glob. Seeing him draw it out of the jar, Scully stood up,
fast enough for the back of her knees to hit her chair, sending it skidding
back against the linoleum.

"You wouldn't DARE."

His grin never faltered as he stood as well, taking a step toward her. She
hated that she took an involuntary step backwards.

"You would have to go and make it a dare wouldn't you?" He flung the
mass at her. She felt it connect wetly on her collarbone before sliding - cool
and slick - down into the front of her robe. She felt it slither down the
valley between her breasts.

"You are going to regret that." She managed through clenched teeth. 

"Really?" he wore a self-congratulatory smirk as he stuck his finger in his
mouth, sucking off the remains of the jelly. "It seems to me that I have all
the armaments in this little skirmish. The balance of power seems to be in
my favor."

He stuck his middle finger into the jar, reloading.

"Mulder..." She warned, feeling the previous mass sliding down her
stomach and stopping where her belt cinched her robe closed.

She had been edging backwards, so when he let fly this time she opened the
fridge door and heard the splat of the jelly connecting with the appliance.
Quickly grabbing a can off the door shelf she emerged from her cover...
shaking the object in her hand. 

"You wouldn't..." He took a step back. It was her turn to smile as her
thumb popped the cap off, sending it off somewhere into the kitchen, her
finger coming to rest on the nozzle. "You would." He found his back
against the sink as she stepped up to him. One hand grabbed the neck of his
t-shirt, pulling it forward as the other sprayed the whipped cream into the
opening. She laughed.

"You think that's funny?" He asked. Her answer was a giggle and smacking
her hand against his chest, listening to the squishing sound with
satisfaction.

He dug three fingers into the jelly, drawing out almost half the jar in his
hand. He smirked as her eyes went wide. She tried to step back but his arm
shot out, catching her left wrist and pulling it around to her back, drawing
her closer with his arm around her waist. His other, jelly filled hand
smacked the goop onto her collar, rubbing it downward, reaching into her
robe to rub slick, sticky fingers over her right breast. It was gross. He
chuckled at the face she made. She tried to wriggle away but he held her
fast. So she fought back with a grin. She stuck the nozzle of the can of
whipped cream down the waistband of his boxers and let loose. He yelped
and let her go. That stuff was COLD. 

She laughed and made a break for it. He grabbed for her again and they
crashed, a tumble of limbs and food products to the floor, laughing as they
went. Jelly and whipped cream started to get applied at every opening.
They were both laughing so hard their sides hurt and cheeks ached. 

Eventually they both ran out of ammunition around the same time as they
ran out of breath, collapsing side by side.

Mulder propped himself up on one elbow. "Looks like we made a mess of
your kitchen."

"And you are gonna help clean it too." She glared at him before giggling at
the whipped cream damage - on the tip of his nose, smeared from chin to
ear and a fluffy white rosette adorning his hair just above his right ear.

"I think I'll start right... here." Before she could guess his intent his mouth
descended on her. With the tip of his tongue he traced a path along the
curve where her neck met her shoulders sending a wave of shuddering
sensation through her, settling somewhat south of her navel. It was the
barest of caresses. He had managed to hold himself up so that nothing
touched her but the tip of his tongue.

She groaned and slid her hands up his arms, resting them on his biceps
lightly. He chuckled and continued to nuzzle her neck, running his lips
lightly over every inch of her throat. Pausing to teasingly lick at smeared
jelly until she was no longer chilled by the sticky stuff, but getting
decidedly warm, very rapidly.

He moved his weight onto his elbows as his fingertips traced her arms
through her ruined robe. He took her hands from his arms and intwined his
fingers with hers. He continued to lift her arms over her head, pinning her
neatly. He rested his body over hers. One knee nudging her legs apart
insistently. She parted for him, and he settled himself against her, seeming
to ignore the little squish of the whipped cream in his clothes. He lifted his
head to look down at her with half hooded eyes. He pressed himself against
her sensitive bud, only his cotton boxers between them. She whimpered
softly as little electric shocks of pleasure shot through her body.

"You like that?" His voice had deepened, as had the color of his eyes. 

She licked suddenly dry lips, trying to regain her equilibrium. He licked his
own lips in imitation of her gesture, adding a soft sheen to his slightly
pouty bottom lip. He lowered his head again and began to link away the
jelly on her throat and upper chest. The feel of his hot, wet tongue
contrasting with the rasping of his stubbly chin on her overly sensitized
flesh.

"You know, I used to love grape jelly as a kid. It was my favorite." His hot
breath caressed her now moist neck and throat, teasing the wisps of her
hair on her neck. His fingers unwound from hers. One hand moved to pin
both of her wrists, the other flowed down her arm, her side, leaving a train
of heat through her robe until it fell on the knot of the belt at her waist. He
had it untied in seconds.

"Wasn't it every kids?" She tried to sound a lot calmer then she felt. She
was fairly certain her voice shook despite her best efforts.

"Maybe." Little featherlight kisses rained along her jaw, under her chin.
When he reached the pulse point behind her ear he stopped to suck softly
on it, sending the heartbeat under his lips into overdrive. Ceasing the
torment he blew softly on the spot, drying the skin with conflicting
sensations of hot and cold. "But as you grow older tastes change. I never
particularly sought it out." Sticky fingers pushed her robe aside, bareing her
body to him. The slick, smeared purple stuff glistened on curves and
hollows. "I think my tastes may have changed again."

He didn't head down though. Instead he nibbled at her bottom lip then
brushed his lips against hers, slowly, so slowly. Then his mouth turned
hungry on her own. He burned her with his tongue, plunging deep into her
mouth- filling her - then leaving her empty and wanting more. When he
invaded her mouth again she captured his tongue and suckled greedily.

His free hand moved over her hip, then past the curve of her waist, over
her ribs before his slightly sticky fingertips brushed the underside of her
breast. The heel of his hand lifted the weight of her breast and his fingers's
spread out over it's jelly smeared surface, touching everywhere but where
she most wanted him to touch. Then, just briefly she felt his middle finger
flick over the tip, back and forth. Intense, erotic pleasure shot from her
breast to her aching center. All the while his mouth tormented her own.
Using lips and teeth and tongue in endless, deep kisses that stole her breath
and her sanity.

Her body had begun to thrum hotly with her own rapid heartbeat. She
could feel him through his boxers - pressed tight against her. His erection
unmistakable, and he rubbed it against her in a combination of a tease and a
promise.

He stopped kissing her, dragging his mouth from her's with a moan close to
anguish. Immediately she felt his mouth on her again. Fierce licks, hot
breath, seeking mouth. She squirmed against him. His mouth laving and
flicking her breasts, devouring her soul along with every trace of jelly. At
last he took one tip into his wet lips and tugged. She arched upwards,
pressing herself more firmly into his mouth, rubbing against his arousal as
the tide of pleasure shot through her. So intense, yet managing to leave her
wanting more. 

She tugged her wrists free of his confining grasp and reached for his t-shirt
- pulling it up. 

Mulder released her, bringing his head up to look down at her. "Delicious."
He licked his lips. "Best breakfast I've had in a long time."

She leaned up to flick her own tongue against the tip of his nose. "You
know you may be right." She rolled so that he was soon beneath her. She
yanked the shirt the rest of the way off. "Those strawberries we had
definitely needed some whipped cream." He had been slowly driving her
mad long enough. It was HER turn. She slipped the sleeves of her robe off,
leaving herself completely naked. 

She began to lick away the mess on his chest, tasting the creamy sweetness
of the foam mixing with the salty tang of his skin. She tasted the sparse hair
against her tongue, then the pebbly texture of one flat male nipple. He was
making the most amazing sounds now. A moan that was almost a whimper.
She felt the shudders that moved through his tense body and looked up to
his face to see his eyes glazed over with passion.

"You know too many sweets are bad for you Mulder." She worked
upwards to lick and nibble at his adams apple.

"I promise, we'll work it off." His hands moved over her, they were both a
mess, and at that moment neither of them much cared. With one hand
under her chin he tilted her face to his, claiming a kiss. Jelly and cream
exploded briefly before being washed away in a taste that belonged only to
them, only to them together.

She moved down again, running her hands over flesh recently licked clean,
allowing her fingers to trace along the smooth definition of muscle. "Oops.
missed a spot." She teased as she bent to lick, then nip just above his navel.
His gasp made her smile.

"Well looky here Mulder... It seems I missed quite a bit." Her thumbs
hooked the elastic of his boxers and gave a tug. He arched up a bit to help
her remove them.

She set to work immediately. Licking and sucking the mostly melted
whipped cream from dark curls, licking at his thighs as she listened to the
gasps and mewling sounds he made when she did something just right. She
tormented him by 'cleaning' everywhere but were he wanted her mouth the
most. He was beyond aroused and actually close to suffering by the time
she took him into her mouth. Teasing the last bits of whipped cream away
from him until she tasted the small bead of saltiness on her tongue. She
moved away then.

"There you go. All done." One coppery brow arched teasingly.

"Hardly." He claimed her in another deep, drugging kiss as he rolled her
beneath him once again. His hip banged against the leg of the kitchen table
but he ignored the mild discomfort as he assaulted her mouth with his own.
His hands flowed over her body. Guided by instinct as much as any
conscious knowledge, knowing just where to stroke, to tease. 

At long last he guided his pulsing, rigid length into her body, and she
welcomed him home with tiny spasms. He paused for an eternal moment,
gathering in the tattered shreds of his self control, wanting to make it last,
needing to bring her to completion even more then he needed his own. 

Dana whimpered in the back of her throat, her hips pushing up into him,
begging him to continue. At last he obliged. Long, agonizingly slow
strokes as he caressed the tips of her aching breasts with his fingertips.

"God... Mulder." She tried to circle her hips, to urge him faster, to make
him bring about the release she could feel just on the other side of the
slowly building, sweet agony he was inducing. But he would have none of
it and she groaned in frustration. She almost got angry at the low, throaty
chuckle coming from him. But her anger dissipated as he took one breast
into his mouth, grazing the nipple with the edges of his teeth. She arched
her back, throwing her head back so that the back of her head pressed
against the hard floor almost painfully. She began to keen in a low whimper
as the storm between her thighs accelerated with each slow, deliberate
stroke, turning her mindless, and tearing away all vestiges of control.

Tears sprang to her eyes as he finally stepped up the pace, pushing into her,
filling her, then drawing back almost completely. Her legs wrapped around
him, her heels digging into his thighs as she urged him onward. He stopped
stimulating her breast , instead he hovered over her, looking down at her,
watching her face. He bent down to wipe away the tears with the tip of his
tongue.

His strokes became harder, fiercer as she cried out in soft gasps each time
he drove home. At last the storm broke in a cataclysmic shattering of her
senses. Lightening bolts drove through her spasming body as she imploded
and convulsed around him. 

The veins in his neck stood out as he drove into her one more time,
pressing just past the entrance to her womb. He cried out his own piercing
climax. They both shuddered into smaller aftershocks.

His weight pressed her into the floor as their hearts and breathing slowed
to something close to normal. With a groan he moved to the side, taking
his weight from her and slipping out of her at the same time. She moaned
at the loss even as his arms wrapped around her, warming her with the
security and love she felt coming from him.

"That was fun." He murmured into her hair.

"Mmm-hmm. But you still have to help me clean the kitchen." She
mumbled into his chest. "And when that's done we have to clean ourselves
up."

"I thought we just did that." She felt his grin more then saw it. 

"Ahhh but I'm sure a shower would do it better." She leaned on one elbow,
resting her head on her hand as she looked at him.

"Showers can be fun." He drawled, his expression amused.

"Alone. Because I have plans Mulder. Big plans." She smirked. The little
shiver he gave warming her.

"Oh? Anything to do with whatever you bought with those handcuffs?" 

"Everything to do with it. But we have to clean up first." She almost
laughed as he managed to gain his feet in record time. He held out his hand
and helped her up. 

"So gonna tell me what else you bought?" He scooped up their clothes.

"Nope. You'll just have to wait." Her small smile held promise.


End Grapes Of Wrath. 

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Interlude III: Icy Hot



Dana finished brushing out her hair. It was still damp from the shower, and
smelled richly of roses from her herbal shampoo. At least it didn't smell of
grape jelly and non-dairy whipped cream anymore. She wore nothing but a
towel wrapped around herself. The feel of the thick, soft material teased
her skin. 

"Nobody better go sniffing my hair today or some nasty rumors are sure to
start. Don't you have anything less... girly?" Mulder stepped out of the
bathroom wearing nothing but a towel slung low around his hips. He
looked... incredible. He'd given himself a quick rub down, but there was a
soft look of moisture clinging to his skin, to the fine hairs on his chest. His
hair stuck up in every direction. He'd obviously just scrubbed it with a
towel.

"In case you haven't noticed, Mulder, I'm a girl. I didn't buy my shampoo
with you using it in mind. Besides, no one better sniff your hair but me."
She gave him a warning look.

"Oh, I've definitely noticed you are completely female." His lips turned up
in a wry grin. "I think the breasts sorta clued me in. Then there's the fact
that you never leave the toilet seat up. Yep, you're a woman."

"And you are a man." She crossed her arms in front of her. "Because last
night I stumbled out of bed and ended up with a wet ass. You better be
trainable Mulder or I'll turn you in for a better model. I wonder if Pendrell
puts the seat back down."

"You'd give Pendrell a heart attack in thirty seconds. He couldn't keep up
with you." He smirked. "Besides, I recall making it up to you as soon as
you came out of the bathroom yelling."

"Yes, you did, but I don't intend to have a wet ass again, Mulder."

"So look before you sit down, Scully. And is this going to shift into a
discussion of my toothpaste habits?"

She shook her head. "Nah, I can live with you squeezing the middle as long
as you put the cap back on."

"So glad I can do something right," he muttered.

"Oh, you do plenty right, but I have to start curbing those bad habits now
or they'll grow exponentially. Besides, didn't your mother ever teach you
the seat rule?"

"Yeah, and when I moved out I used it as an act of rebellion. I'm a guy, I'm
a bachelor, and I can leave the damn seat up if I want to." His smile was
smug.

"And you are gonna stay a bachelor with only your right hand for company
if you don't learn to curb some of those baser - guy impulses."

"Ok, ok... I'll try to remember. It's not easy to shed the habits of eighteen
years overnight you know." He sat down beside her on the bed.

"Really? How long did it take before you started leaving the seat up when
you first left home?"

"That's different. Bad habits are always easier to pick up." He grinned.

"You are incorrigible."

"I'd like to think I was encourageable." He leaned in to nip at her bare
shoulder.

"At times..." She admitted with a smile as his tongue started to trace her
clavicle.

"Is now one of those times?" he murmured against her skin before his
mouth found that spot, right where her shoulder met her neck and he
nipped at it before sucking on it, hard.

She gasped and stiffened as a wonderful jolt of pleasure shot through her.

"Oh... yeah."

She felt his fingers at the tuck of her towel and she suddenly remembered
herself.

"Oh... no." She slapped his hands away. "We aren't done playing yet, Agent
Mulder."

He pulled back and arched a brow at her, a bad imitation of her own look.
"We aren't?"

"Lay down, Mulder. On your stomach, please." She stood up abruptly and
went to her dresser. Opening the drawer she found what she was looking
for. A vial, of bluish green liquid, corked and sealed with green wax.

"What is that?" he asked as he scooted back on the bed.

"Trust me." Her smile was seductive and she watched him swallow hard. 

She managed not to laugh when he, somewhat reluctantly, rolled over to
lay on his stomach. "Mulder, this is better then grape jelly." She broke the
wax seal and uncorked the vial, inhaling the aroma of the liquid inside. It
smelled refreshing.

"I don't know, Scully, grape jelly is kinda hard to beat right now." He
turned his head to look at her out of the corner of his eye, the glimmer
there was wicked.

As answer she swung herself onto the bed and, pushing the towel he wore
up to just under his butt, straddled the back of his thighs. She was aware
that the towel she wore may cover her from sight, but in this position he
could feel her pressed against him, nothing between them. She could swear
she heard a groan.

"Are you complaining?" she asked as she poured a small amount of the
vial's liquid into the palm of her hand, warming it.

"Who me? Never." He ended in a gasp as she began to massage the oil into
his back. Her hands pressed down on him, forcing the oil in with strong
strokes that loosened his muscles yet aroused his body. She could feel the
oil on her palms. Menthol oil. It was icy to the skin, till warmed, and it
spread a languid heat beneath the skin it was applied to.

"That feels like Ben-Gay," he commented.

"You are getting old on me, Mulder." She chuckled. "Ben-Gay doesn't
taste this good." She leaned forward to run her tongue up his spine. She
felt him shiver under her hands and mouth. He shifted his hips a bit,
uncomfortably. She could just imagine the source of that discomfort.

Her hands may be small, but they were also pretty strong. She leaned back
once more, rubbing against his legs and feeling him shift again. Smiling to
herself she stroked his sides in one long upward motion. Rocking back
again she placed both hands in the middle of his back and pushed upward
to the base of his neck. While she was there she nibbled on his shoulders.
He had beautiful shoulders. Broad and strong. The muscles jumped and
bunched under her lips as she kissed the mole on his left shoulder, the tiny
one that almost matched the one on his cheek. It was just above the
puckered scar from a gunshot wound she wouldn't ever forget giving him.
She tasted the rough-smooth flesh of the scar with her tongue.

Mulder had started to make a deep, tuneless humming noise. Hmmm... was
that a purr? Scully smiled to herself.

She began to work on his arms. She left nothing untouched, unstroked. 

Rocking back once more she tugged at the towel he wore. She felt his
chuckle vibrate through his legs. 

"Scully, are you coming on to me?"

"Mulder, if you haven't figured that out yet..." She managed to get the
towel between her pulling and him lifting his hips a bit.

She licked her lips and warmed another small dab of oil in her hands. "You
have a great ass, Mulder." 

"Why thank you, Scully. So do you. Does that make us a matched pair?"

For answer she slapped his left cheek. "Don't make me spank you,
Mulder."

"I just got very turned on," he mumbled into the sheets.

She laughed and kneaded the oil into his buttocks and hips. When she
stopped she noticed he was rocking into her bed. 

"Mulder... I'm back here. It says a lot that you can mistake me for my
mattress."

"Scul-leee," he whined. "Are you purposely setting out to drive me
insane?"

"It's a real short trip when it comes to you. Now turn over."

She moved off his thighs and knelt on the bed to one side. He obediently
rolled onto his back. Oh yes, he was enjoying every minute of this. Certain
parts were standing at attention and ready to salute.

"See anything you like?" he asked with a teasing smile.

"One or two things." She smirked back and prepared some more oil.

"What on earth made you think of menthol oil?" he asked as her hands
massaged the shiny, scented stuff into his chest. She enjoyed the feel of
muscle under skin, the light rasp of hair under her palms. Her fingers
circled his nipples as she smiled. "It heats up, Mulder. It feels cool and
wonderful on the skin, with a nice warm sensation underneath... but when
you add a little more heat, it's... interesting."

He had sucked in his bottom lip, his top teeth showing slightly as he bit
down on it. Did he have any idea how sexy that was? How hot she was
getting just touching him, feeling him warm and pliant under her hands?

She bent down to nibble on his neck. That long column was way too
inviting when he arched his head like that. He hissed softly.

"Oh, I'm not done with you yet," she murmured against his skin before
sitting back up and working the oil into his ribs, his flat stomach, the
bunched shape of his abs as she stroked and teased him. His hips, his thighs
both were adorned next, then his legs. Long legs. Runner's legs. The fine
hairs on his legs glistened from the oil. She smiled and capped the vial.

"Um... Scully..."

"Nope, Mulder. That could get... uncomfortable." She sat the vial on her
night stand and stretched herself out beside him. "You look good enough
to eat, Mulder."

"Haven't we done that already?" He grinned and reached for her. One hand
at the base of her skull urged her up for a kiss. Slow and languid, yet not
really soft. It was a hungry kiss, and Scully felt like she was the buffet.

He broke the kiss to look at her. "You are overdressed for the occasion."
This time his fingers found the tuck of her towel and stripped it off of her.

"Didn't anyone ever tell you that patience was a virtue?"

"Sure, but I'm not feeling very virtuous right now. As a matter of fact.. I
feel like breaking a few commandments. Wanna help?" She laughed but the
sound was cut short as his fingers skimmed over her breast. "You know,
Scully, I think turn about is fair play." 

He reached over his head and retrieved the vial from the nightstand.

"Oh really? I thought you were impatient." She tried not to squirm as the
hand lightly squeezing her breast moved for his forefinger to flick over her
nipple, repeatedly.

"No, I said I wasn't feeling virtuous. Pay attention, Scully, or I'll have to
keep you after class."

"After class, hmmm?" she arched an eyebrow, "Professor Mulder, let me
guess, sex ed, right?"

"And look what you brought for show and tell." He shook the vial and,
moving his hand from her breast to her shoulder, gently turned her onto her
stomach.

"I take it you were always best with hands on learning." She bit her lips as
his large, strong hands started at the base of her spine. 

The oil wasn't cold, but left a tingling coolness on her skin. Beneath the
tingle a delightful warmth spread. Mulder's hands slid smoothly over her,
leaving no part untouched, unpampered as he returned her earlier massage
measure for measure. 

The tingling she felt was not completely attributed to the oil by the time he
turned her over. Far from it. Every touch sent a shiver along her nerves. 

His hands kneaded her hips then flowed upward. He knew where she ached
to be touched. The sensations of icy heat flowing over her was incredable.
He climbed her midriff with the heels of his palms until he came up against
the softness of her breasts. He paused for no more than a heartbeat before
smoothing over them as well. The slight roughness of his palms sending
shocks of pleasure from the tips right down to her center. The heat of him
pushed into her stomach. She rubbed against him sensuously, smiling at the
moan she drew from him. She was well acquainted with how hard he could
get. She felt it now. His desire fed her own. 

She wanted him with a solitary anguish that was close to pain. The wanting
was an ache, but a sweet one, and that only because she knew it would be
fulfilled.

He massaged the last of the oil on his hands into her breasts, making them
feel both tender and full. She wanted more of that feeling. His mouth
slanted over hers then, his tongue fluttering over her lips before she opened
to him. Her own meeting his, shaking hands and settling down like long
lost friends. He tasted slightly of grape jelly yet, but mostly of himself, that
smoky, dark essence that was only him.

And her body was on fire. Everywhere his pressed down on hers the oil
that had been massaged into flesh sent a delicious heat through her, pooling
at her core. It was not an uncomfortable burn, but a deep, languorous heat.
She heard a soft whimper and was almost surprised to realize it was her
own.

Mulder's hands flowed down once more, over her hips, trailing down her
thighs. She drew her own hands up, over his back, feeling the muscles there
move as his arms did, savoring the smooth flow of motion under her
fingertips.

His mouth left hers as he bent to take a nipple into his mouth. The
sensation was fire. She was burning up. She felt him rake his teeth over her
too-sensitized bud and she felt the tension inside herself draw so tight she
was sure she would snap. 

When he abandoned that breast to savor the other she was hit with the
most intense cold over the bereft peak. The air, the wetness of his mouth
and the oil made her cry out as one breast was seared by him, the other
encased in ice.

Her stomach, her thighs, all had become feverishly hot. She felt his fingers
behind her knees, pulling her legs up and to either side.

His lips left her breasts and she was stung again with the cold before he slid
his whole body up her smaller one. The burning was wonderful.

"Scully, I definitely like where you shop." His slow smile teased her as
much as the feel of him, there, at her entrance. Just waiting there. Pressing
against her center. Ringing the doorbell and waiting for an answer.

"Does this make me your personal shopper from now on? Because I have
to tell you, I'd love to be in charge of buying your ties..."

The rest was lost in a cry as he slipped into her. Filling and stretching her
just short of discomfort. She pried her eyes open to see him hovering over
her. His own eyes closed in concentration, a thin sheen of sweat on his
brow. He wasn't moving. Why wasn't he moving? Just that, just entering
her had her so close she felt a tear slip from the corner of her eye.

His breath was ragged as he paused, finally opening his eyes he looked
down at her. He bent to trace the path of the tear with his tongue. 

"Did I hurt you?" His voice was tight and rough.

"Ego, Mulder. Control it. I'm gonna hurt you though if you don't DO
something soon," she managed through clenched teeth.

"Controlling it is what I'm doing. Give me a second or this is gonna be over
way too soon." 

It took all she had not to start wriggling against him. "You know, they
have a term for that problem." She arched her brow and smiled.

"You know you have a smart mouth. It's a damn good thing I'm in love
with you or it'd get annoying." He shifted his weight slightly, and the
friction was torture.

"Me annoying? I'm the only one who would put up with you. Now will you
get going?" 

The conversation had the desired effect, Mulder had regained his
equilibrium and a semblance of control.

He began to move. Slowly at first. Making her feel every ridge, every inch
of him within her. She moved with him, her hands moving to his hips to
urge him faster.

She was so close, so close, if he'd just...

He was almost out of her before he slammed home. Hard, fierce, fast.
"Like that?" 

She couldn't answer. She was beyond the ability to speak. He did it again.
And again. On the fourth fierce thrust she came, screaming from the force
of it. It shook her to her soul. Her whole body convulsed. She had no
control. She came so hard she feared for her consciousness. Her fingers
dug into his hips, her heels sank into the mattress, and it didn't stop. It kept
going on and on. The world was lost in a kaleidoscope of color behind her
eyelids. The only thing she was aware of was the unbearable pleasure, the
constant, unending rapture as her body tightened and tightened and
tightened.

And he was moving again. Oh, God she was still coming as he thrust again,
hard and fierce, driving, animalistic. Just four more times and his cry
matched hers. A hoarser, deeper sound as he filled her, emptied into her.
His twitching inside her kept her going a little longer. Slowly it died down,
leaving her weak and spent. She had never, not once, felt anything like
THAT. 

"Oh my GOD." She managed after regaining her breath, and the upper
brain function necessary for words.

"You were just complaining about my ego and now you want to deify me?"
Mulder lifted himself weakly, turning them both to the side so he no longer
sprawled, a limp mass of spent and shaking flesh, on top of her.

"Close. That was... wow... that was..." She searched for the words but they
eluded her, all of them seeming inadequate.

"Dana Scully speechless? Amazing." He chuckled.

"There is a down side though." She pointed out as she felt his fingertips
tracing her shoulder, and small, wet kisses falling lightly against her neck.

"There is?" He sounded doubtful.

"Yeah, I don't think we can ever top that. If we did I might not survive the
experience." She ran her fingers, idly, through the soft, silkiness of his hair.

"Hmmm... perhaps I should take that as a personal challenge." He nibbled
on her earlobe before she felt his cheek resting against her neck. One of his
arms snaked around her to pull her close.

They were both exhausted. Scully felt sleep creeping up on them. 

"Hey Mulder," She mumbled her eyes fluttering closed.

"Hmmm?" She heard his breathing evening out.

"Your hair smells like roses." She was smiling as sleep took her.

End Icy Hot. 

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Research was done for the following story. And advice given by some
distant relatives. Any glaring errors are the fault of the author, and not of
her advisors or anyone else. Rituals and certain spiritual aspects have been
changed out of respect to the beliefs they represent. Other changes were
made for literary purposes. The Dark Spirits herein are the results of my
own imagination, as are the rituals pertaining to them. 

The title is pronounced (Hath-ee-neeo-gwee-oak) It is Iroquois and it
means "They are gathering."

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

Dogged Determination II: Hadinio`gwe'oek 



Chapter 1. 
--------------

Buffalo, New York 
April 10, 1996 

Carl Norton pulled his hard hat off to wipe the thin sheen of sweat off his
brow. Even the breeze from Lake Erie was doing little to cool him today.
He set aside the rivet gun and eased himself down to sit on the girder two
hundred feet above the chaotic swarming of fellow workers on the ground. 

A paisley bandanna was dangled in his face and Carl looked up to see
Thomas Murphy, the welder he was often teamed with. 

"Don't worry, it's clean." Tom grinned down at his friend. 

"Good." Carl swiped the bandanna from Tom's hand and used it to mop his
face and forehead, wiping along the back of his neck. "I wouldn't wanna
get white man's cooties." 

Tom snorted. "Keep it then. You'll stain the thing red anyway." 

Both men set to chuckling at the easy banter of friends who spent too long
together to take offense at anything anymore. 

"Man, what happened to spring? We went from winter into summer." Carl
took the bottle of water that Tom offered him and drank greedily. 

Sitting side by side, the two men looked like two halves of a coin. Both
tall, thin, both aged 25, wearing green coveralls and work boots, their long
hair in ponytails. But where Tom's hair was the reddish blond of his Irish
ancestors and his laughing gray eyes changed with his environment, Carl's
hair was dark blue/black, and his eyes were a warm chocolate. Next to
Tom's pale, freckled skin, Carl's weathered tan appeared darker than it was. 

Tom frowned slightly. "How's Sara doin'? Those antibiotics helpin' clear 'er
up?" 

Carl shook his head. "Not as much as I hoped. She's still having a hard time
breathin'. My mom is taking good care of her though." Carl smiled slightly,
"She's even insisting on invitin' the False Faces in during the Traveling Rite.
She clings hard to the old ways. If it makes her feel better I don't see any
harm too it. Other than the ceremonial smoke makin' Sara cough." 

Tom felt a little helpless. Carl's daughter was only four. Walking
pneumonia was nothing to fool with, especially in one so young. He knew
Carl was worried that Sara would be hospitalized if she got any worse.
With the insurance they had Carl just couldn't afford the deductible, not to
mention the 20 percent he'd have to cover. 

"I'll come by - see her after work, if that's ok with you. I got 'er a present
anyway." 

"You keep spoilin' her and she'll follow you around like a puppy, man and
you can't keep 'er if she follows ya home." 

Their break over, both men stood back up on the girder and went back to
work. Communication became impossible over the pounding of the rivet
gun and the sizzle of the welding torch. 

Two hours later, the quitting whistle pierced through the noise of
construction. Carl turned off the gun and started to stash away his rivets
for tomorrow. He looked over to where Tom was removing his mask and
shutting down his unit. 

Out of the corner of his eye, Carl saw movement. Shadows where none
should be. When he turned to look, there was nothing was there. 

He frowned and started to shrug it off until an inhuman cry of pain came
from Tom's place on the girders. 

The welding torch was whipping about, lit and vicious. It was up in the air
with no visible means of support. It looped around Tom's neck, the blue
flames burned, cutting his flesh and setting his clothing ablaze. 

Tom was screaming as he fell from the girder. Carl had managed to run to
the place where his friend had been standing but now Tom was dangling
below him. Hung from the neck. His body thrashing and convulsing as
sickening greasy smoke and heat obscured Carl's vision. He was helpless.
Helpless as the thrashing slowed and the rescue crew made it's way up the
too slow elevator. 

When the medics arrived, they found Carl heaving over the side of the
girder, and Tom Murphy beyond any aid they could give. 

X 

Buffalo, New York 
Kensington Expressway 
April 11, 1996 

Special Agent Dana Scully looked over the report in her lap. "Please
explain to me what we are doing here. This autopsy report concludes that
the victim was attacked. There are close to a hundred witnesses that say
Carl Norton was alone with Tom Murphy at the time of the attack on a
girder, two hundred feet above ground. So, what grabbed your attention on
this one?" 

Mulder looked at her briefly before turning his eyes back to the road. God,
she was lovely, especially when she was ready to do battle with him. A
small smile playing across his mouth. "Did you read Mr. Norton's
statement?" 

"He claims that he didn't do it. The chances of him confessing are slim,
Mulder." 

"There's more there, Scully." 

She looked at her partner with a touch of frustration. A look that they were
both used to. No one could be as exasperating as Fox Mulder when the
mood hit him. He seemed to revel in baffling his partner when he could
because he so rarely got the chance. 

"Are you alluding to Norton's statement that he saw moving shadows prior
to the attack? That is one of the most feeble defenses that I've ever heard
of." 

Mulder shrugged. "There have been six violent deaths in or around Buffalo
in the past two months. All of the victims were at least acquainted with a
Native American, and odd, shadowy apparitions have been reported by the
witnesses. My guess is there have been more incidents but only six
witnesses had the courage to report these shadows." 

"Mulder, whenever I've gone off chasing shadows with you, it has never
occurred to me that it would be in the literal sense." Scully smiled slightly
and began to mentally formulate scientific reasons for shadowy visions.
"The witnesses could be suffering faulty memories due to shock,
manifesting in a recollection of moving shadows. Or they could be
delusional due to drug or alcohol abuse." 

"Right now we don't have anything concrete to go on. With luck, Carl
Norton will be able to shed some light on these mysterious shadows." He
didn't smile or even look at her, but Scully saw the mischievous glint in his
eye. She chose to ignore it. X 

Orenda Brant looked across the table at Carl and tried to will him to
cooperate. She was having only moderate success. His one phone call had
been to his mother, who had called a lawyer, then her. 

Orenda tucked a long lock of raven hair behind her ear and decided to try
this from another angle. 

"Look, your preliminary statement to the police was that you were
distracted by shadows at the edge of your vision. Therefore you didn't see
the beginning of the attack. Is it possible that it was a medical problem? Do
you suffer from migraines?" She reached into the pocket of the
professional-looking suit coat she wore, fingering a braid of corn husk
ending in a string of wampum and a pheasant feather. As she looked at
him, she repeated a simple chant in her head. A chant of protection. 

"No, I'm not sick. Look, I don't know why mom called you..." 

"Because she thought I could help you. She thinks these shadows might be
after you. They are at least responsible for you being locked up here. But I
can only help if you WANT my help. Carl, can you think of ANY rational
reason for those shadows?" Orenda sat up straight. 

"It was a hot day. Sunny. It COULD have been the beginnings of heat
stroke, or the heat itself, fooling my eyes." Carl was defensive. 

He was completely closed-minded, too lost in the white way of thinking,
without the ability to look deeper into events than the surface. 

"Listen to me, Carl. I have reason to believe the Dark People are at work
here. I don't know how or who might have called them into the physical
world, but there have been ten other deaths, and in each instance these
shadows have appeared. Carl, you never described them." Time to pull out
the big guns, Orenda. "The shadows were small, three feet or shorter, bent
and deformed but vaguely human." 

She watched his eyes widen and the first hint of fear in his face. Good,
maybe he needs to be afraid. Spirits above knew, plenty of people should
be afraid right now. 

"Carl... I need to know how many you saw. I need to know if their eyes
glowed. I am sworn to protect the physical world from the intrusion of
malevolent spirits. It's part of my job description." She offered a humorless
smile. "I can offer you some basic protection, but it isn't you they are after.
They are after white people. And more innocent people are going to die if
something isn't done about them. But I need to know what KIND of Dark
Spirit I'm dealing with here..." 

Carl frowned, a deep furrow forming between his brows. Tom, he was a
good man, no matter what his skin color was. It hurt to think of him, of
how he died at the hands of... of what? There were other good white men
and women out there. These days racism was rare. He looked at Orenda.
She was one of the few female Medicine people in the nation. If she really
could do something... 

"I think I saw some yellow spots. I didn't register them as eyes in the brief
glimpse I had. I couldn't count them either. They were moving, but there
were more than five shadows I think." 

Orenda closed her eyes. Yellow.... the Dark People were of limited power,
but their spiritual power base would rise with each new murder. They
would feed off the pain and misery, fear and death itself, gaining strength.
Yellow was still manageable. Their eyes would change as their power
increased, like a rainbow. If their eyes became violet... She shuddered. 

The door behind her opened and she turned to see a cop waiting. "Come
on, Tonto. Two Feds want to see you in Interrogation NOW." 

Orenda saw Carl's face darken and she didn't much blame him. But there
was nothing she could do. She knew this prick's kind. Thank goodness they
were few and far between. But when racists like this crawled out of the
woodwork they tended to be the worst ones. Complete assholes. To idiots
like them, she was worse than an Indian, she was a worthless Indian
WOMAN. Racist men tended to be sexist as well. She mentally shook her
head. As if that piece of meat between their legs made them better than a
life-giver. Didn't they know one slice of a knife and that little superiority
base would be gone? 

She rose and nodded to Carl, trying to diffuse his anger with a parting
comment. 

"I'll go. I promise to check in on your mom and Sara. I'll be in on the False
Face ceremony tomorrow. We'll do what we can for her, Carl." 

He seemed to slump a bit and nodded. 

She moved past the cop, her back straight and her carriage proud. She
could feel the black looks the asshole shot her, even if she couldn't see
them. 

Down the hall from the visitors area she saw looked through the open
interrogation room door, taking note of the two FBI. A tall dark haired
man, and a small woman with flame hair. She felt something vibrate in her
chest. A feeling of foreboding and dread. She knew in an instant that her
fate and that of the two in that room were intertwined... and death was
watching and waiting. 



Chapter 2. 
------------

Mulder stood, reclining lightly against the wall when Carl Norton was
brought into the Interrogation Room. He was seated by his uniformed
guard, opposite Scully at the table. He was still handcuffed when the guard
left the room. 

"I'd like to see your badges please." His tone was not belligerent, it was
actually polite. The man looked sad and scared. 

Scully held up her ID first, and Mulder held up his. Carl squinted across the
room at his and something of a smile came to his face. "Careful, with a
name like that Mr. Jocularity might think you're one of us." Carl tossed his
head, indicating the door the guard just left through. 

Mulder glanced briefly at Scully, seeing her lips purse slightly in annoyance. 

"I've been told something similar before. We'd like you to tell us what
happened yesterday." Mulder crossed his arms and waited, studying the
young man seated at the table through a mask of boredom. 

"I already gave my statement to the police. They think I killed Tom. I
would have fought for Tom if I could. I..." Carl swallowed hard, "I tried to
save him. Look... I DID NOT kill Tom. Why would I? We've been best
friends for six years. He was the godfather of my daughter. The last fight
we had was three months ago over whether we were going to spend our
mutual vacation fishing off Erie or drive down to Chautauqua. Mrs.
Murphy was here earlier, even SHE doesn't think I killed Tom." He ran
both hands down his face. 

Mulder knew, at that moment, without a doubt that Carl Norton was
telling the truth. It was more than the whole shadow angle. He'd looked
into the eyes of killers before. Even killers who were under the influence at
the times of their deeds - some were even truly remorseful. Carl Norton
was tired, worn, and very frightened. But it wasn't the fear of being caught
red-handed. He was feeling a sense of hopelessness. His was the fear of
being convicted of something he didn't do. 

"Well maybe Mrs. Murphy doesn't want to think someone she knew
murdered her son." Scully answered with a raised eyebrow. "There are a
hundred witnesses who saw you alone on the girder with Mr. Murphy. No
one saw anyone else up there. The forensic report has evidence of Thomas
Murphy being burnt, cut with his own welding torch in patterns. This was
no accidental death." She tapped the folder in front of her with a perfectly
manicured fingernail. 

Carl swallowed hard again. He would never convince anyone. His only
hope was the news his lawyer gave him this morning. Ten witnesses that
placed him on the opposite end of the girder when the attack began, four of
them were the rescue crew. But out of a hundred, only ten had been
looking up at the time. At that moment something occurred to him. 

"Why are you here, FBI? I didn't think you looked into the random death of
a construction worker. There is more to this than you are saying." 

Mulder shouldered himself away from the wall and moved to stand beside
Scully. He leaned forward, balancing himself on his spread fingertips
against the table. "Why don't you tell us about the shadows you saw?" 

Carl studied the man looming over him for a moment, then laughed. They
were actually looking into it. Ms. Brant had said there were ten other
cases. And they couldn't possibly place him at the murder scenes of the
others. He just might get out of this whole sorry mess yet. He might get to
see Sara grow up. 

Carl shook his head, his laugh had faded to a grin. "I was told there were
other deaths. I'm sorry, but it just occurred to me, slim as my chances of
proving my innocence are, they just got a little better." 

Scully straightened in her seat, turning slightly to look at Mulder. Their
eyes locked and their own form of silent communication flowed. Who
knew about the other deaths supposedly linked to this case? How did this
kind of information get out? 

"Who told you there were other deaths?" Scully asked Carl, breaking the
silence that had settled in the brevity of their locked gazes. 

Carl weighed the pros and cons. If these two were going to try and actually
connect the Dark People to these murders, they would need help. Brant
had said the Dark Ones were after whites. But would telling them about
her help or hinder what she needed to do? 

"Orenda Brant. She is of the Medicine Circle. You must seek her out. She
will tell you or not, it is up to her." With that, Carl Norton leaned back in
his chair and refused to speak again. Scully and Mulder alternated
questions till their throats became sore, but Carl sat in passive silence. 

After three hours, he was taken back to his cell. 

"I just hate passive aggressives." Mulder sipped at some water. 

"I hate interviews that waste our time." She took the glass off him and
drank down half before handing it back. 

He looked bemusedly at the glass. "I wouldn't call it a waste of time. We
got a name out of it. All we have to do is locate this Orenda Brant." 

Scully smiled slightly. "Do your fingers feel up to walking?" 

X 

Orenda lit her fourth cigarillo just as the FBI came out of the station. She
was leaning against their rental car so that they spotted her immediately.
They approached her cautiously. Orenda suppressed a smile. They moved
like wary hunters. In perfect unison with one another. 

"Excuse us, this is our car." The man tried to look menacing. Orenda
switched to her othersight and grinned at the bristling animal barely
perceptible at the man's right side. 

"Funny, it has rental plates." Orenda blew out the smoke she had filled her
lungs with, releasing it downward at the feet of the two suited people. In so
doing she was able to more clearly see what she sought. The results were
interesting. She saw the totem spirits, only because she was looking.
Otherwise they would not be visible to her unless their chosen were in
danger. The creatures she saw told her much about the two confronting
her. 

She also immediately saw something very interesting flowing between these
two. The bond was a webwork of light. Tendrils stretching much like
electricity between them. The color a blue tinged white. This kind of bond
was extremely rare, and it told her much more then the animal spirits who
had chosen them. These two were more than partners and friends, more
than a team, more than simple lovers. Their link was soul deep. 

Orenda felt a surge in her heart. She had only seen such a link once before,
when she was twelve. It was both powerful and dangerous. The two she
had seen thus bound before had met with tragedy. A drunk driver killed the
man. The woman willed herself to death without him. The danger of this
kind of bond. Once the link was completed, as it was with these two, the
two became part of each other. The loss of one halved the other, making
continuing a ghost's existence. Hollow and empty. 

"I think you know what we mean." The man continued, dragging Orenda
from her thoughts. 

"Yes I do. I also know you will be seeking me out eventually." She flicked
her fingers, offering a neat, white business card to the man. One half of its
face was an illustration of a medicine wheel. 

He took the card and glanced at it, then his mouth turned up in a charming
smile. He handed the card to his companion. 

"We were just heading out to find you. Obviously, the reason we could
only reach your answering machine is you were here." 

"Ahhh. With such astute powers of observation I can tell how you made it
into the FBI." Orenda smiled. "I am Orenda Brant. Friends call my Wren.
And YOU," she pointed at the man with her cigarillo, "have at least passing
familiarity with the Medicine way. You have been close to death, have you
not? The shaman who guided you through this transformation was not of
my people... Navaho? The trace remaining on you suggests their passive
flavor." Her smile widened at his look of shock, quickly recovered. 

"I'm Special Agent Fox Mulder, this is my partner, Special Agent Dana
Scully." He gestured to the woman. 

Orenda shut down her 'othersight' before the double vision gave her a
headache, returning to purely physical vision. "So... if you were seeking me
already than you know Carl killed no one." 

"We know what he CLAIMS," the woman, Scully, interjected. 

Orenda nodded. This was the one who would be hard to convince. "If you
think you are dealing with a group of random, senseless, motiveless human
killers you are a fool. And you don't strike me as a fool. My car is over
there." She pointed to a red Wrangler parked in a corner lot. "Follow me.
It's getting late, and I will try to explain what I know over dinner. Either of
you object to steak? I'm a mean cook." 



Chapter 3. 
-------------

Amherst-Buffalo, New York 

They had followed the red Jeep out of the city proper and into a
community consisting of mostly one-and two-story houses, duplexes and
apartments. 

"Do you think she has something to do with these deaths," Scully asked as
Mulder drove. 

"Maybe, but if she is, I'm not sure in which manner. Look at this as an
opportunity to check her out in an unofficial capacity, when her guard is
down." Mulder chewed on the inside of his bottom lip. There was
something about Ms. Brant. A... stillness about her. 

The Jeep pulled up to a white bi-level ranch house. Mulder pulled into the
driveway behind the Wrangler. 

As Mulder and Scully followed Ms. Brant up the fieldstone walkway,
Mulder noticed the carefully tended herb garden bordering the house.
Orenda had pulled out her keys and was unlocking the door when she saw
Mulder's eyes fall on the sculpture in her medicine garden. A piece of
carved driftwood with an Indian maiden and an eagle seeming to begin an
emergence from the grain. 

"That was done by Robert Twofeathers, another member of the Medicine
Circle, and my teacher." She smiled slightly and opened the door,
disappearing inside and expecting them to follow. 

The small foyer was at the jointer of two flights of stairs. The left hand
stairs leading up into a well-lit living room, the right hand stairs leading
down into shadows. Orenda was already heading up the stairs. 

"Feel free to look around. My home is your sanctuary. My possessions are
your possessions. Take what you need, and leave some of your joy
behind." Her words, as she headed for what appeared to be the kitchen,
were cheerfully said, but the formality and seeming ritual of them caught
Mulder's attention at once. "Just don't go downstairs. My home office is
down there, as well as my ritual room. I don't want to offend the spirits by
having you touching something down there you shouldn't." 

Scully had moved into the living room area, right off the top of the short
flight of stairs. There was a set of primitive, crossed Lacrosse sticks over a
good sized fireplace. A leather ball to match sat on the mantle. Hand
woven blankets were tossed about tastefully, and Indian pottery was placed
on tables and shelves, one large piece filled with a jade tree stood in a
corner. Everything was decorated in earth tones and seemed to breathe
harmony into the air. 

"You know, if you don't have rooms already I have three bedrooms here.
You are welcome to stay with me. That is if you aren't worried I'll murder
you in your sleep." Orenda's voice came from the kitchen accompanied by
the sounds of opening cupboards and clanging pans. 

Scully had moved to look through the island counter that served as a
dividing wall between the kitchen and the dining area. "Ms. Brant, if you
don't mind me asking, what is your stake in our investigation? Offering a
meal and rooms goes way beyond public courtesy." 

"Wren. Please call me Wren. And my stake is the same as yours, Dana."
Mulder suppressed the urge to smile at Wren's use of Scully's name without
invitation. "The Shadow People are not a new thing. They have shown
themselves in our legends and history on several occasions. They are not
something that can be stopped with badges and guns. And they have a
hatred to whites especially. Some Shamans think they are the souls of
warriors who allowed their hatred of white invaders take them beyond all
honor. Whatever they are they feed on pain, fear and death. All negative
emotions. And with each death their power will increase." 

She took a deep breath and continued. "I took certain vows when I started
training in the way of Medicine and the spirits. Among those vows was a
promise to protect the innocent from malevolent spirits to the best of my
ability. I was looking into this before Carl Norton's involvement." Wren
wiped her hands on a dishrag and left the kitchen to a chest of drawers.
Opening a drawer she pulled out a thick manila folder and handed it to
Scully. "This is a list of victims, times and manners of deaths, as well as
notes I have gathered on the Dark People. You most likely have all this
victim information." 

Scully flipped open the file and frowned suspiciously. "How did you come
by this information? Most of this was never released to the press." 

"You realize there are a good number of Iroquios on the police force." She
smiled slightly. "A few of them acknowledge the old ways. And the reason
I asked you to stay is so my medicine can protect you at night. Evil thrives
in the darkness. My home is sacred, and cleansed. They cannot come here."
With that she returned to the kitchen.

                                     #####

Dinner was unusual, but delicious. Nut-corn pottage, steaks seasoned with
an interesting combination of herbs and red wine, a mixed bean salad and
coffee. Although she filled them in while she was preparing the food, Wren
refused to speak business during the meal itself. She made pleasent small
talk which Mulder appeared to find aggravating, but Scully seemed to
enjoy. Such things as families were glanced over the moment Wren noticed
Mulder's discomfort, and she began to speak of sports. This subject at least
held some of Mulder's interest and Orenda was almost laughing at the
heated discussion of the merits of the Buffalo Bills and the Redskins. She
finally did laugh and winked at Mulder, "Do you realize you are trying to
persuade me the Redskins can beat the Buffalo Bills hands down?" Her
dark eyes sparkled with amusement, not at the teams, but the irony of the
names. 

Scully looked at Mulder after Wren left the room to fill the dishwasher. 

"You are just eating this whole evil spirit story up aren't you?" 

Mulder shrugged, "You have to admit it makes a certain sense when
compared to these deaths and witness statements. There were ten people
who swore Carl Norton was no where near Tom Murphy when the attack
started, and fifteen more claimed they saw Norton running to the spot
Murphy was falling from." 

"So you don't think he did it. Mulder, there is no physical evidence that
anyone else did do it. And I just can't accept that disembodied shadows are
running about killing people." 

Mulder locked gazes with her. "But you can accept a shadow consisting of
dark matter can cancel out the light matter of the human body." 

"There was a perfectly scientific reason for that. What we are talking about
here is... ancient superstition." 

Mulder looked into the kitchen. He knew from first-hand experience that
the spirit realm Ms. Brent spoke of existed. 

"Ms... Wren, you said you could see I had been through a Navaho ritual.
How?" 

Wren emerged from the kitchen. "It clings to you. You have found a small
measure of peace from it. The spirit world knows you and accepts your
presence. As to how I know it was Navaho, their Medicine and outlook is
one of acceptance and balances. They try to flow with the river of life, and
not to struggle against it. It has a certain... signature. I respect their way
immensely, but it is not my way. I have visions of going down fighting." At
those words a shiver raced up her spine. Foretelling? She hoped not. 

Dana frowned and looked down at her hands. This was NOT a subject she
cared to discuss. She remembered those horrible nights when she thought
Mulder was dead with her rational mind, yet something inside her insisted
he was alive. WAS it wishful thinking? Denial? And that dream... she had
never confessed to Mulder about the dream, of seeing him, hearing him.
Why? Might she be afraid he'd say he knew, that he'd somehow sent it? She
couldn't accept that. This whole discussion was touching on a part of
Mulder she felt was foreign to her. 

She knew they were closer to each other than any two people had a right to
be. Between their work and personal lives she sometimes lost sight of
where she ended and Mulder began. That they knew each other so well
they could trace the patterns of their thoughts at times. Yet just as her basic
Catholic upbringing, and yes, beliefs were something Mulder didn't share -
so this was something beyond her. He'd tried to explain it to her, on more
than one occasion. She was forced to think of the whole episode as a fever
dream brought on by what had happened to him at the time. She didn't
accept that it had anything to do with mysticism, or spirits. More likely
hallucinations and dreams. 

So how did Orenda Brant know Mulder had been through a Navaho ritual?
It wasn't in any reports... 

"Dana," Wren's voice gently pulled her from her thoughts, "you conclude
that there is no physical evidence that anyone other than Carl killed Tom."
She smiled at both agent's slightly shocked and embarrassed expressions. "I
have good hearing. The fact is, you don't have any PHYSICAL evidence
that he did either. His fingerprints show up only at the part of the welding
hose that he could reach trying to pull Tom back up. Not anywhere
consistent with him wielding the torch to attack." 

"He could have been wearing his work gloves." Scully countered easily. 

Wren nodded, allowing the point. "What about the twenty-five witnesses
Fox pointed out?" 

"Mulder." He corrected at the same time Dana spoke up with, "Out of a
hundred and eighteen people, twenty-five claim to have seen him no where
near the victim or running to help the victim. Not good odds." 

"And what if I told you that Carl wasn't the only one at the sight who
caught a glimpse of the Dark People? He just had the best look." 

"There were other witnesses to this? Why didn't you say something?"
Mulder looked annoyed. 

"Four other Native Americans saw moving shadows. But no one else. I
think they can only be seen by my people, and the spirit's intended victims."
Wren smiled. "And I'm sure Dana will say that these witnesses are just
corroborating Carl's story out of a sense of community consciousness." 

Mulder had to work hard at not smirking at the glare Scully shot Wren.
She was right on the money. 

Both agents were spared marshalling a defense when Mulder's cellphone
chirruped in. 

"Mulder." He listened intently and nodded. "Where?" He nodded again.
"We'll be right there." 

"There has been another death." Wren stated sadly. 

Mulder nodded. "Come on Scully. This one was just as messy as the
others. But we have ten witnesses reporting these shadows this time." 

"Ten?" Wren's tone was almost panicked, "Were they all native? If whites
other then the victims start seeing them, it means they have gained enough
strength to physically manifest. This is NOT good. Can I come with you? I
might be able to help." 

Mulder's "Yes" was countered by Scully's simultaneous "No." 

"Well which is it?" Wren crossed her arms. 

Mulder met Scully's eyes, insistent. Wren smiled at the silent
communication flowing along the special bond she saw enmeshing these
two. 

"You ride with us." Mulder turned back to Wren. Scully didn't look happy. 



Chapter 4. 
------------

Condemned Apartment Complex 
Suffolk Ave. 
Buffalo, New York 

The room was filthy and smelled heavily of urine, vomit and the
overwhelming coppery tang of fresh blood. The debris of scattered wood
and newspaper, ragged blankets and large boxes had the order to it that
proclaimed that this was a stopping point for the homeless. Even if the ten
witnesses were not evidence in and of themselves. Two witnesses were
written off at once, one a completely stoned young Native American and a
old woman just this side of an alcoholic coma. The rest of the people were
clean and sober enough to be considered reliable, and one middle aged
mother was clutching her two children to her in terror, her eyes darting to
every corner of the room, peering into every shadow. 

Mulder approached one of the uniformed police, his ID already in hand.
"What happened here?" 

The young man shrugged. "Damned if I know. I've never seen anything like
it, though. Witnesses claim the shadows started moving, then they took
some sort of human form and attacked the victim. He's been identified as
one Paul Naylor, by the way. He's a drug dealer. I'd think these people
were all sampling Mr. Naylor's wears, but *I've* seen the body." He
inclined his head to where Scully was approaching a tarp covered mound
on the floor. 

The strobing flash of forensic photographers were making the shadows
around her dance and move. Mulder fought against showing the chill that
ran down his spine. His eyes took in the rest of the area. Concrete pilings
offered places for someone to hide. The whole room was badly lit by a row
of windows - some broken, the rest filmed over with grime. He'd have to
keep that in mind when listening to witness' descriptions. There was a set
of double doors against the far wall, the rusted chain hanging loosely from
both push bars. Unlocked, but unless someone was working with the killer
or killers, and laced the chains through after they were gone, then they
hadn't been used as a point of egress. Leaving only the doors they had
come through. 

"They were real." The woman who had been clasping her two children
moved forward, each child nearly crushed against her sides. "I saw them.
Like demons straight from Hell. Their eyes glowin' like the eternal flames
of perdition." 

"You saw their eyes?" Mulder, mindful of Wren's agitation at the thought
of non natives seeing the shadows, took note that this woman and her
children had no obvious Amerindian blood. "What color were they?" 

"Yellow and Orange, they glowed, and there was no warmth to 'em. I was
so afraid for my kids, I just scooped 'em up and ran out. Ain't no place safe
anymore. Time was all ya had to worry about was the rapists and the
muggers. Now the shadows move." She shook her head. 

"What was the victim doing prior to the attack?" Mulder looked at the
children, a girl about ten, and a boy somewhere around eight. Their
clothing frayed and worn, stained in places, even though the kids
themselves were clean. He felt a surge of pity. No kids should have to live
out of an abandoned warehouse. 

"He was talking to Johnny Redcrow." The woman thrust her pointed chin
in the direction of the zoned-out Amerindian in the corner. Mulder thanked
the woman. He'd wait to talk to Johnny Redcrow. He wanted Scully with
him on that one. He looked over the man in question, tall, thin, plainly
Amerindian, but with a glassy stare that didn't perceive anything in the
warehouse. They'd be lucky if they could get anything out of him other
then the lyrics to 'Purple Haze'. 

Scully looked at the odd-shaped lump hidden under a canvas tarp. Waiting
patiently until forensics had combed the site. She didn't notice until she
bent to lift a corner of the tarp that Orenda was at her elbow. 

The victim had been viciously attacked. Small bites and slashes covered
every inch of him, some chunks of flesh were completely missing. The bite
marks were about the size a three or four year old child would make, but
the patterns suggested needle sharp teeth. She took in the way the arms
were up, and that much of the damage was to the victims forarms. He'd
most likely raised his arms to ward off the attack. No obvious evidence that
he had fought back with any success. 

"Hadinio`gwe'oek ." Orenda whispered softly, making Dana turn to look at
her questioningly. The woman looked pale under her normally dark skin
tone. 

"It means 'they are gathering'. This is the work of the Dark People in
corporeal form. They are gathering strength, they are gathering force, and
they have taken this man's soul." 

"There's nothing here to suggest that this was anything more then an animal
attack. Rats, or even cats could do this." Dana dropped the tarp. "Why do
you think this man's soul was stolen?" 

Wren lifted an eyebrow in a pretty good imitation of Scully's gesture.
"There is an emptiness to this shell that suggests a soul ripped from the
body. When I try to look into the spirit world here I see blackness, and a
terrible evil. This is more than a murder. A human soul not only defines
who and what we are- it is not only the seat of the total of our being - it is
pure metaphysical energy." 

Mulder overheard this as he approached. "The police don't know what to
call it. To list it as a homicide there should be a human factor. They can't
find any evidence of this. The witnesses, all claim to have seen a horde of
small shadows converge on this guy. The attack was fast and sent most of
the witnesses running. They mostly ran to the police looking for protection
against whatever killed this man. He was a drug dealer. The locals think
he'd just finished a transaction with Johnny Redcrow over there." Mulder
nodded his head to indicated the glassy eyed young native. 

"That would make a kind of sense. They are escalating, and will get worse
with each attack. Agent Mulder, they have taken physical form for at least
the length of this attack. This is NOT good news. Did the witnesses
mention eye color?" As she spoke, Wren was taking some leather pouches
from her purse. 

"As a matter of fact, they said the shapes had glowing yellow or orange
eyes." Mulder frowned as Wren opened one of the pouches and drew out a
hand full of a fine powder. 

Wren only nodded and began to chant soft and low, allowing the powder
to trickle through her hand, drawing a circle around the tarp-covered
corpse. Scully stepped back as the woman passed before her. Her eyes
were questioning, but she didn't interrupt. The circle complete Wren
brushed her hands together to remove the dust that clung to her palm. 

She looked at the two incredulous agents and shook her head. "There was
evil done here with the taking of his soul. This place will call to evil, draw
it like a magnet unless I sanctify it. I simply called the attention of the good
spirits back to this place." She drew the pull string of the small pouch shut
again and returned it to her purse. "I'll have to return when the police have
gotten all they can from this area. By the end of the week at the most, and
do a more thorough rite." 

Scully just looked at Mulder her eyes telling him plainly that she didn't
think it was going to help anything. She took hold of his sleeve and pulled
him away, out of ear shot. 

"This was most likely an animal attack. The witnesses are in shock." 

"Scully, if the autopsy can prove that this was the result of some sort of
animal attack, Pest Control is gonna be busy for a month. I'm laying odds
you won't be able to match the attack patterns, bite marks or anything else
to any known animal. Want to help me talk to Johnny Redcrow?" He
gestured to the man in question. 

"Oh fun, not even putting him in detox first?" She moved ahead of Mulder,
feeling him place his hand at the small of her back. 

"That would take away half the adventure." He said softly, close to her ear. 



Chapter 5. 
-------------

Scully felt Mulder right behind her as she approached Johnny Redcrow. He
didn't acknowledge their presence. 

"Mr. Redcrow, we understand you were the last person to speak with the
victim." Scully crouched next to the man seated on the floor. Mulder
remained standing. With that, they established their interview roles. It
wasn't what the positions assumed. That tended to throw the interviewee
off balance, even when they were sober. 

Glassy eyes struggled to focus on Scully's face. "Who're you?" 

Scully held out her identification wallet, her movements sharp and
impatient. She doubted Redcrow could see it, let alone read it. 

"Oh." Was all he said, then his eyes shifted focus to some point between
himself and Scully. 

"Naylor was your dealer. Did you make a buy before he was attacked?"
Mulder shoved his hands into the pockets of his trench coat. 

"I don't know what your talkin' about." Johnny mumbled. 

Scully looked up at Mulder, a mixture of exasperation and annoyance on
her face. 

"I see, you don't do drugs, do you?" Scully tone was mocking as she
cocked her head to the side. 

"I'm on a spirit journey." Redcrow smiled. 

"Yeah, well I'll agree you're on a trip. Look, did Naylor act strangely as
you made your little business deal? Nervous? Frightened?" Mulder moved a
bit closer, forcing Redcrow to crane his neck to look up at him. Mulder
seemed more amused than annoyed. 

"He was as he always was. He was always nervous. I didn't pay much
attention." 

"Heya, ogai`ta'." Mulder turned to see Wren standing just behind him, her
arms crossed before her chest, her glare of disdain unmistakable.
"Onio'`gwa'. Degadenut'dyak." 

Redcrow paled a bit. "Sorry. No disrespect. Tor-yoh'-ne, Hayo?" He
inclined his head to indicate Mulder, "Ogio' tor-yoh'-ne`dage." 

Wren's eyes narrowed and Mulder looked at her inquiringly. "Sorry, I lost
my universal translator somewhere along the line." 

Wren snorted indelicately. "I told him he was a nut and I crack nuts. He
knows what I am, and he decided to try to cooperate." 

"I saw the Dark People. They hissed at me, and called me worthless. But
they howled his death." Redcrow sighed. "He kept screaming, and they
were without mercy. They devoured his spirit as well as his flesh. He did
not die quickly. I tried to hide. I don't know if I hid well or if they chose to
ignore me. I let his screams wash over me like music. I was frightened, yet
I felt him die, and it was full of colors and beauty. I saw no more." 

"Where did you hide?" Mulder asked. 

Redcrow pointed to a pile of broken crates. "In there. In the dark. The
darkness lives, you know. It breathed around me. I was afraid the dark
would eat me, but I feared Them more." 

With that the young man fell silent again. His eyes lost. Mulder and Scully
looked at one another. 

Neither noticed Wren's worried frown. Redcrow had named her secondary
totem, and had seen it was shared by Mulder. Luckily he'd done so in
Iroquois not in English. But how could he know? Unless whatever he was
on DID allow him some vision into the Sacred Place... 

                                     #####

Erie County Coroner 
Buffalo, New York 

Scully pulled off her mask and gloves, nodding to the medical examiner
who had officially been in charge of the autopsy. Dr. Williams nodded back
and turned off the overhead recorder. He left the corpse for his assistants
to clean up. 

"I'll tell you, off the record, I've never seen anything like that. Those bites
were not like any animal I know of. And there was at least twelve different
teeth patterns, did you notice? The arrangement of the bite marks almost
appears that they were made by completely different animals." He held up a
small evidence bag holding three non-human hairs. "Hopefully this will
explain something." 

Scully sighed. Mulder was going to love this. He'd most likely do a jig.
Unless those hairs were identified... 

She threw her scrubs in the disposal bin and cleaned up before heading out
to the break room to see if Mulder was done writing up interview notes. 

He was. He was sitting at the lunch table looking through police reports.
Alone. Scully was a bit surprised. She had expected Ms. Brant to hang
around. 

"Find anything interesting?" She walked behind him to read over his
shoulder. "You already read that one. Are you starting to slip?" 

"Just double checking. The few times the glowing eyes of these things have
been mentioned the colors change. Look, back here possibly red and in the
Norton case, yellow. Tonight's report was orange or yellow." Mulder
plucked at his bottom lip. 

"This just proves that they are most likely not seeing the same thing. These
shadows are the manifestation of some kind of hysteria." She sat down next
to him. 

"You know I love it when you talk dirty to me." His smile and words
spreading a welcome warmth through her belly. However, despite the
flippant remark, she knew he was at least considering her words. 

"Mulder, have you gotten us rooms somewhere? I'm beat." She looked at
her watch; it was almost midnight. 

"Actually, I took Ms. Brant up on her offer. One less thing for Skinner to
gripe about if we cut costs like that." He closed the files and gathered them
together. 

"She may be a suspect." She crossed her arms, annoyed that he'd made
such a decision without consulting her. 

"What better way to keep our eye on her then?" 

"Or for her to keep an eye on us. Mulder, I was really hoping for a hotel."
This last was said softly. 

"Well Orenda wanted to know if she should prepare one room or two. I
TOLD her two. She laughed outright and asked me who the hell I thought
I was fooling." He held out the police reports, noticing the way Scully
paled. 

"But... how..." 

He took a step closer, leaning in so his mouth was close to her. Scully felt
the warmth of his breath caress her ear. "She claimed it was easy to see to
anyone who can see our spirits. But that we did a fairly good job of hiding
it to anyone without such an advantage." He stood back, never so much as
touching her, he stepped away from her and walked out the door. 

She looked after him for a moment, incredulous. There was no such thing
as seeing spirits, so they had to have slipped somehow. How? When? She
was certain they had been doing so well. After Vermont they had managed
to fall back into the same comfortable roles they had developed over the
years. On duty, they were completely professional... well, as professional as
they ever were considering Mulder's proclivity for picking locks and
disregard for procedure was just as evident as ever. But they must have
slipped up somehow. If Ms. Brant, a relative stranger had guessed the
truth, than what was to keep their enemies in the dark? 

Mulder turned around at the end of the hall, looking back at Scully
standing, unmoving, in the lounge. "Are you coming?" He called back,
smiling to himself. 

Scully nodded and moved to catch up. Some perverse part of her mind
answering silently <that depends on whether Ms. Brant actually prepared
two rooms or not.> 



Chapter 6. 
------------

The front light had been left on for them. Mulder knocked. When no
answer was forthcoming, he tried the front door and found it unlocked. As
soon as they were inside, he detected the very faint scent of burnt spices
and smoke. Orenda was nowhere to be seen but Scully pointed to a note
tucked in the foyer mirror. 

'Make yourselves at home. Guest rooms are the two rooms on the left and
right of right-hand hall. You would save me extra laundry if you share a
room you know. I have to prepare for the False Face Ceremony tomorrow.
Don't expect to see me until morning. By the way, the smoky smell is NOT
the house on fire. It's me. --Wren' 

"Well, do you want to be the cause of extra laundry?" Mulder hefted their
travel bags. 

"Yes. We set rules. The only people who know about us is my mom and
Buster." Scully closed her eyes and took a deep breath. This was hard, and
he wasn't making it any easier. Why did SHE always have to be the
reasonable one? And he better not comment on her considering Buster a
person..."And right now Ms. Brant is only making guesses. Good night,
Mulder." Scully took her bag from him and climbed the few steps to the
hall. 

Mulder followed silently. He knew she was going to make him pay for
accepting this invitation without asking her first. He also, to be honest, had
to admit the validity of her arguments. Sometimes he hated being honest
with himself. 

He recited the rules silently to himself. Rule number one - the case, the
work always came before physical intimacy. Rule two - they put each other
before the case. The Truth was out there, and they would sacrifice just
about anything to get to it, except each other. Rule three - don't get caught.
They made these rules four months ago, after Scully was released from the
hospital following the case that brought them together. Three simple rules
for a very complicated situation. 

Scully had opened both guest room doors, and after peering inside she
chose the right one. Mulder frowned. "Come on, this one's bigger, you take
it." 

"Mulder, that one also has a TV. You won't sleep well without one. Plus,
my room is three steps closer to the bathroom." She looked up onto his
eyes, communicating her own frustration. Her eyes darted briefly to his
lips. Just one goodnight kiss, what would it hurt? Everything, because she
had a feeling it wouldn't stop there. "See you in the morning." She slipped
inside the smaller room and closed the door behind her. 

X 

Orenda sat alone in the sauna she'd modified for use as a sweat lodge. In a
small brazier she burnt a smudge bundle and used a fan made of ritual
feathers. She came to this cleansing as she was, naked, as she had been
given to the world. Before her lay her mask. Hers was the Whirlwind mask.
She had made it herself, carving it from a living basswood tree. It was
divided: the left half painted red, the right half, black. The mask was large
lipped, with a tongue hanging out. The carefully carved features a grimace
of pain. The Whirlwind was half supernatural, half human, and it's dual
nature allows it to take upon itself the pain and illness of the ill and
afflicted. 

Tomorrow she had to attend the Traveling Rite. The Ga-go'-sa. A position
she had fought hard for. Long tradition barred women from this Medicine
ritual. But by now the circle knew her magic was strong and good. 

Breathing in the smoke, she cleared her thoughts, opening her spirit to her
guide. This cleansing was not for the Traveling Rite alone. She had much
to do, and many questions. 

Her body swayed as she fell into the comforting chant. It's rhythm lulled
her, quieting her mind, relaxing her body. Calm serenity encompassed her.
She was aware enough of her physical self to spoon another dipper of
water onto the lava rocks causing a billow of steam to hiss forth. Closing
her eyes, still chanting, she looked within and without. To the world that
lived just beyond normal sight. The heat of the sauna disappeared, replaced
by a cool, refreshing breeze. She opened her eyes to a glade surrounded by
woodland. 

They waited for her. He perched atop a dead and broken tree. He spread
his wings and looked at her, peering into her soul and judging, always
judging. He was the hardest totem to deal with. Beneath him was the
second. Tor-yoh'-ne. He sat on his haunches, great furred head lolled to the
side, peering at her. 

"I come for cleansing, so I might cleanse." She spoke in the old tongue. 

>>You are clean. You come for answers.<< HIS eyes told her. 

"Innocents are dying. The Dark Ones roam the physical world. They
MUST be stopped." Wren felt her flesh melting, reforming until, in this
place, she took the form of her nickname. The small, plain brown bird
shivered in the presence of HIM. The great hunter. Every natural instinct
screaming that he could tear into her and devour her if he so wished. 

>>They must be stopped. Are you prepared to do it? Victory is never
guaranteed. And the price of victory should you gain it, may be high.<< 

"I took oath. I must fight. If it means my death, so be it." The words came
from her small beak, and the little bird shivered again. With dread. She was
afraid. She did not want to die. There was much in this life she had hoped
to do. But if she must... 

<<Not all sacrifices are of your life. Though that may well be asked of you.
Sometimes death is a lesser price to pay>> Tor-yoh'-ne looked at her and
padded forward. Golden eyes fixing the tiny feathered creature before it.
<<The one I protect... they will be confused by him. He appears almost of
The People from the spirit realm. But whether that will protect him or not I
do not know. I do know that his companion is not so protected. And he
has given half of his soul to her keeping. If they take her, if they devour her
soul and feed from her pain... it will destroy him as well.>> 

"Have they targeted her?" Wren's eyes grew large, and her feathers puffed
out. 

>>We cannot say. If they follow the Dark People long enough, they will be
noticed. In being noticed they will be targeted. The pain and fear energy
the Dark People might attain from those two may be enough to bring them
firmly through to the physical world.<< He let out a piercing cry, startling
the small birds and animals around them. The cry of the great raptor sent
panic through the natural world around him. >>This MUST not happen.<< 

Wren bobbed her tiny feathered head. "I will set protections on them.
Come morning they will eat of the three sisters. And I will bless them. It is
all I can do for now." 

<<It will have to be enough.>> 

Wren looked from Tor-yoh'-ne to the winged spirit. "Who has called them
here? And where will they next strike. They attack at random. I can not
know who they will attack next." 

The winged one looked at her. >>The answer is close to you. Things are
not always as they seem. Chasing illusions can sometimes lead one to the
proper goal. We do not know their minds. We cannot know where they
strike next. This is for YOU to determine.<< 

Wren looked to the lupine form of Tor-yoh'-ne. He barked a laugh.
<<Don't look at me little one. My primary chosen keeps me too busy using
all my wits and luck to keep him alive. This task is up to you.>> 

With the flutter of wings the woodland vanished, and the cool breeze
became wet heat, wrapping around her and weighing her down. Orenda
opened her eyes and nodded to herself. Changing her chant, she reached
for the second bucket of water and began her ritual bath. 





Chapter 7. 
------------

Dana opened her eye to stare blearily at the clock sitting on the nightstand.
Seven a.m. She slid out of bed and dug her bathrobe out of her suitcase. If
she was lucky she could beat Mulder to the shower and get to it before he
used all the hot water. 

Leaving her room she noticed the door opposite her's was open. Peering in
she saw the made bed and the open luggage. Mulder must have been up
with the sun in order to take a run. Sure enough she heard the sounds of
the shower. She cursed silently and moved to bang on the bathroom door. 

"Mulder you better leave me some hot water or I'll strangle you with a
towel." 

She heard something mumbled on the other side. "What was that?" 

"Nothing, I'll be out in a minute." 

"Water hog, huh?" Scully spun at the sound of Wren's voice, and tried to
appear unfazed by the younger woman's attire. 

Wren was wearing buckskin pants, with tiny bells woven into the fringe
running up either side of her legs. A wide belt held an elaborately beaded
apron sporting a floral motif. Her cotton shirt was bright red, and
decorated with more floral beadwork and ribbons. Her long hair was puled
into a single braid down her back, and she wore some sort of head dress, a
small cap made of horse hair and feathers at the top of her head. A
complete turn around from the business attire Orenda had worn yesterday. 

Wren smiled at the startlement Scully wasn't quite able to hide. "Like it?
Traditional for the Travelling Rite." She turned so Scully could see the full
artistry of the beadwork. "Oh and I wear this of course." 

Mulder opened the bathroom door, sending a blast of sodden hot air at
both women. He was dressed except for his tie and jacket, and his shirt was
sticking to him in places. He said nothing as Orenda brought forward a
wooden mask. Half of the grimacing visage was black, the other half red. 

"This is Whirlwind. I personify him during the False Face Ceremonies. He
is half human, half spirit, and he takes upon himself the sickness and evils
of mankind." 

"Nice to know someone's on our side." Mulder quipped as he stepped away
from the bathroom. "There was still hot water when I left." He assured
Scully. 

"There had better be. I will not be responsible for my actions if I have to
take one more cold shower because of you." She ducked into the muggy
bathroom air, closing the door behind her, only after catching the
amusement in his eyes at that statement. 

Wren tilted her head to the side and eyed Mulder. She just grinned and
refrained from saying anything. She inclined her head to the dining area and
headed for it. Mulder followed. 

"Since you are going against the Dark People I've prepared this breakfast
for you." Two bowls were filled with cereal flakes, both light and dark
brown. Slices of orange colored bread sat by each bowl. "Just add milk. It
tastes like nutty corn flakes. The flakes are made from corn and bean. The
bread is pumpkin bread and it's sweet. These make the three sisters. They
are sacred to my people." 

She checked her watch. The time piece appearing anachronistic against the
rest of her outfit. "I have to pick Roger up at the Zoological Gardens in
twenty minutes." She grabbed a triangular piece of bark from the mantle. It
rattled as she shook it, chanting slightly. She put a blessing on all in this
house. 

"Zoological Gardens?" Mulder looked up from the table. "You aren't
joining us?" 

"I can't partake of food until I eat the ga-go'sa od-jis'kwa at the close of the
Traveling Rite. I'll be out of your hair until around five tonight. As for the
Gardens - Robert Twofeathers - the artist who did the wood sculpture in
my garden, was also my teacher. He, his son and his grandson run the
Gorilla and Rainforest Exhibit mostly by themselves. He doesn't drive, so
I'm picking him up." She smiled as she snatched her mask back up. 

"Oh. Um... what is gag... gago..." 

"Ga-go'sa od-jis'kwa." She pronounced carefully for him. "It's corn pudding
made with maple syrup. It is offered to the spirits as symbolic payment for
their good will." She slung her purse over her shoulder and with a wink and
a wave started to leave. "Oh," she called over her shoulder, "lock up as you
leave please." 

Fifteen minutes later Scully emerged, dressed and impeccable. "Did Wren
leave already?" She looked around. 

"Yeah, she had to pick up another member of the Medicine Circle." He
poked at the flakes in his bowl. "Any chance this is poisoned?" 

"Only in the shock it might cause to your system. We can stop for breakfast
on the way if you prefer." Scully frowned. "Orenda is putting an awful lot
of trust in us. I mean we just met her yesterday and she's trusting us alone
in her house?" 

"Not everyone's as paranoid as I am Scully." Mulder smiled slightly as he
poured milk into his bowl. There was something about Orenda that made
him want to trust her. It made him nervous, questioning why half the night.
At least until he realized he could drive himself insane focusing on such
circular reasoning. His gut told him Wren was one of the good guys. His
gut was usually pretty damn reliable. It was just his innate distrust of most
people that was giving him a problem. 

"So we get to question the witnesses to Tom Murphy's demise this
morning?" Scully took a bite of the pumpkin bread. 

"Murphy's background was such that there was no likely suspects. He had
no real enemies, no past girlfriends looking for revenge, nothing obvious.
AND no reason for Carl Norton to want him dead." 

Scully sighed. "We may get the lab reports on the fur found on the last
victim by this afternoon." 

"He probably owned a dog, Scully." 

"Maybe. But it didn't resemble canine fur." 

They finished their breakfast arguing specifics. 

X 

Orenda pulled the jeep over and Robert got in the passenger side. "Hae'."
He inclined his head. "You are helping the two white FBI." It was not a
question. 

"Word travels fast." Wren didn't take her eyes from the road. 

"They will need your help. This is good." He smiled with approval and
mischief in his eyes. His face was proud and strong featured. His skin lined
with age, etching lines heavily into his countenance. His once black hair
was white now, and cut close to his head. His outfit was similar to hers, but
the mask he cradled lovingly in his arms bore the twisted features of Old
Broken Nose. 

"We are going to the Norton home first. We meet there and move on. It
was agreed, to show support for Carl." Robert explained as Wren drove.
When she approached the Norton ranch home she saw fifteen others
gathered around, all in traditional dress. Tiola Norton stood in the
doorway, holding her four year old granddaughter. The child looked tired
and cranky. Walking Pneumonia was nothing to mess with. Modern
medicine was working already, they would be adding to it. 

Orenda tied on her mask and began to shake her hickory bark rattle. Robert
had brought his staff, well carved with a forked top, many amulets and
Medicine pouches adorned the top. He led the singing as the False Faces
filed into the Norton house, dancing and asking the spirits to cleanse the
home, to remove the sickness here. 



Chapter 8. 
-------------

FBI Buffalo Regional Office 
12:30pm 

Mulder watched Scully out of the corner of his eye. She had been getting
more and more annoyed as the interviews progressed. Of the twenty five
they'd talked to so far only six claimed to be looking up when the murder
occurred. 

They claimed, adamantly, that Carl Norton was on the other end of the
girder when Murphy was been attacked. Carl turned at the first screams
and ran to his friend. By the time he got there Murphy was already in
flames, hanging below the girder. 

The other nineteen said they looked up at the screams and saw Norton,
running to where Murphy hung. He appeared to be trying to pull his friend
up. No, they really didn't see the start of the attack, but from seeing Norton
running TO the spot they would have to say he wasn't the attacker. 

The last witness had just left and Scully was leaning in her chair. Her elbow
braced against the chair arm as she played with her bottom lip, deep in
thought. 

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but these witnesses are NOT going to help the
prosecution." Mulder leaned back in his own chair. 

"But the evidence will." She pointed out. 

"Circumstantial at best. The prints on the hose are covered by witness
statements. This whole thing is going to go down as a freak accident, no
matter what the coroner's report says. You know that as well as I do. I
think we should stop trying to prove Carl Norton committed the murder,
and concentrate on finding out who... or what did." 

"Shadows?" Scully gave him one of her best scoffing looks. "There has to
be some other rational explanation." 

"Yes, God knows everything we deal with whittles down to nice rational
explanations." His sarcasm while sharp, was not truly malicious. 

A chirruping sound filled the room and both agents reached for their
phones. Mulder looked sheepishly at his partner. "Must be you." 

She pulled her cellphone from her jacket. "Scully." 

She frowned slightly. "Are you certain? No... no, it might even make a
twisted sense. Thank you." 

She looked up at Mulder with an almost triumphant smile. "Those animal
fur samples. They were simian, Mulder. Chimpanzee to be exact. Dark
malformed shapes attacking people, even on a high up girder. Someone's
trained chimps to kill." 

Mulder frowned. "Orenda said that her teacher, his son and grandson all
worked at the Buffalo Zoological Gardens... at the Gorilla and Rainforest
exhibit." 

"You know, you are really beginning to ruin zoos for me Mulder." Scully
stood up. 

X 

The Zoo was only moderately busy on a Thursday afternoon. Their badges
got them to the administrator's office. 

The short, balding, middle aged man went pasty white when they explained
why they were here. Mr. Worth looked ready to faint. 

"I can assure you that this facility is in no way releated to those deaths. It
isn't uncommon for people to keep exotic, if illegal pets." He stammered as
he led them through the underground maze of halls and facilities not
usually on the tour. 

"We are not insinuating that it is Mr. Worth. We would like to speak to an
expert on primate behavior, that's all." Scully replied soothingly. 

"Of course. Of course. The Twofeathers all know the animals here very
well. All the current primates have been cared for by Robert since either
birth or purchase. His son is equally familiar. The boy will be going to
college next year and I'm sure will make a fine addition to the staff in a full
capacity. Good people the Twofeathers." The man's mouth never stopped
untill they came upon a small dented metal door. "Here it is. Their office. If
you have no further need of me.." 

"We'll know where to find you." Mulder was relieved to see the little man
scamper away. 

At the sight of his rapidly retreating back Mulder and Scully looked at each
other with amusement. Mulder knocked on the door. 

The man who opened the door was in his late thirties, and slightly shorter
than Mulder. He wore coveralls and looked at the two agents curiously. He
was obviously Amerindian. 

"Can I help you?" 

"I hope so." Mulder offered his ID. "I'm Fox Mulder, this is my partner
Dana Scully. We're investigating a series of deaths in the area." 

The man nodded, opening the door wider and moving aside to let them in.
"Laurance Twofeathers. I know what you are investigating. But I do not
see how I can help." 

The little office wasn't much more than a large closet. It made the X-Files
office look bright and cheery. Metal shelving filled with buckets, hoses,
tools and books adorned all the walls. And it stank with the musky odor of
monkeys. A bare lightbulb provided barely enough illumination over a
worn metal desk that had been recycled one too many times. 

"We found simian fur at the last murder site. The description of several
witnesses could lead us to believe that this was some sort of primate
attack." Scully watched Twofeathers sit on the edge of his desk. 

"I still don't see how I can help you. All our primates are accounted for as
of this morning. We'd know if any had escaped." Laurance spread his large
hands before them, at a loss. 

"But you do have Chimpanzees here don't you? Can you tell us if Chimps
can be trained to attack, even kill a human being?" Scully did not sit in the
only chair in the room, although Laurance's perch on the desk indicated he
had left it for her. She didn't want to be deferred to. 

"We have eight of them. Not for long though. They are cutting back on the
primate exhibit here. I think having Lucy's baby die was the last straw.
We'll only be keeping the Gorillas and the monkeys. The chimps have
already been adopted by other facilities. My father checked the places out,
and he's certain they'll be reasonable happy in their new homes. 

As to wether they can be trained... sure. Chimps are strong. Pound for
pound they are stronger then humans. And they are capable of being quite
vicious. You know... chimps are the only creatures other then man who
make war among themselves? They are also very smart, and capable of
understanding instructions and trained behaviors. If trained to do so, yeah,
they could kill a man." Laurance nodded as he spoke. 

"Lucy's baby?" Scully inquired. 

"Lucy is a five year old Chimp. She successfully concieved and delivered a
year ago. It boosted business for a while, but the baby died one night. From
SIDS as far as the vet could tell. Cast a bad light on the chimp house.
Local news even questioned if the chimps were mistreeted. Almost
punched that asshole." 

"The primates here are kept separated from the public by glass enclosures
as well as bars, correct?" Mulder finally spoke up. 

"Yes sir. For their own protection as well as the public's. Kids used to poke
things through the bars at the animals. Too much danger in that. Besides
the public would feed stuff to them that was unhealthy for them to have.
We had a gorilla here addicted to chocolate bars a while back." Laurance
shook his head, annoyance in his dark eyes. 

"So a casual visitor here couldn't have picked up Chimpanzee fur." Scully
looked at Mulder. Statement, not question. 

"Are you implying that me or my son or my father had something to do
with these deaths?" Laurance looked up abruptly, his eyes going wary. 

"Someone with access to primates, who knows the Native American
legends that are getting entangled in this case... you have to admit it doesn't
look good. However we have no reason to suspect any of you. As Mr.
Worth pointed out... people have been known to keep exotic pets," Scully
pointed out, her face a serene mask. She also knew the animals here were
monitored, and if any of them were missing at any time someone would
have known. 

"I don't know of anyone owning a chimp. But then it wouldn't be well
known would it? Among my family, my father is a respected elder and an
upstanding member of the Medicine Circle. I am your most likely suspect.
I'm sure you will find, or have already found my aggravated assault record
from ten years ago. I was a drunk then. I do not have my father's
reputation. My son... he is a teenager. Rebellious and angry at everything.
But he has never broken the law, that I know of." 

"We'll be wanting to speak with both your father and your son none the
less. Just to keep you all OFF the suspect list." Mulder smiled slightly. 

"Raini is out running errands now, and dad is involved with the Traveling
Rite. Raini should be back around five. Dad, I'm not so sure. Whenever
they've finished." 

"We just want to talk right now. Nothing to worry about Mr.
Twofeathers." Scully dug out a businesses card. "I can be reached at this
number. Have Raini and your father call us so we can arrange a convenient
interview." 

Laurance took the card and looked at it as he ran his hand through his
short cropped hair. "Yes mam. I'll have them call you as soon as they can. I
want this cleared as soon as possible, and as much as you do. If someone is
abusing Chimps..." Laurance placed the card in the middle of the desk and
opened the door, intent on personally leading the agents through the maze
of back hallways so they wouldn't be lost. "This way." He motioned to the
right, turning off the light and locking the door behind him. 

X 

Inside the room shadows moved. Many pairs of orange eyes blinked into
the gloom. Dark upon dark, one misshapen form leaped from the floor onto
the desk. The glow of the creature's eyes fell upon the card in the middle of
the flat surface. Practically an offering. It inhaled the scent of the card,
separating the smell of ink and woodpulp from the fragrance of the white
female. The eyes closed in almost pleasure, and it hummed, a grating sound
deep in it's throat. Hunters. Hunters made the best prey. The female was
simple. White and modern. All the things that inspired hate and rage. 

The male was something different. Confusing. He smelled white. Foreign
and not welcome here, yet he looked to their eyes to belong. To be
accepted by the True place, and the land. How to deal with him? The bonds
between the male and the female were strong. Some of his 'flavor' tinged
her through that link. But not enough to hide her. 

Orange eyes opened and the darkness hid the twisted grin. They hungered,
and the power they could gain here was too great to resist. But they must
wait. Wait for nightfall and the comforting darkness. 



Chapter 9. 
-------------

The deli wasn't terribly crowded for a weekday afternoon, but Mulder had
guided Scully to a back corner table. He sat with his back to the wall,
facing the door as they discussed their findings and opinions over
sandwiches and sodas. 

"Well can you explain how chimpanzee hairs were found on the body? We
have confirmed the victim neither owned one as a pet, nor knew anyone
who did." She shoveled her chips onto Mulder's plate as she spoke and
confiscated his pickle spears. 

"He was a dealer, Scully, any one of his buyers COULD have owned a
chimp. Besides that, the teeth patterns and bite marks suggested an
attacker with pointed teeth. Chimps have teeth a lot like ours." He bit into
his sandwich and held it up before her. Speaking around a mouthful of food
he asked, "Does that look like the bites on the body? I didn't think so." 

"Oh, that was mature," she muttered. "If someone trained chimps to attack
people, they COULD have filed the teeth..." She mused. 

"And lost a few fingers in the process. OK so you want up to look up sales
of veterinary and dental equipment in the area? We will." He traced her
forefinger with his own where her hand rested on the table, and where no
one could see the gesture. "If you're right this guy would need to
anesthetize the animal, use something to keep it's mouth open and some
dental tools to file the teeth." He ticked off points on her fingers with a
stroke of his own. "Your idea, you get that unenviable task." 

"And what will you be doing?" She withdrew her hand with just the
slightest of shivers. 

"Going through both the public library and Wren's personal collection of
books to find everything I can on the Dark People. Where they have shown
up in the past, what they do, and all that unimportant stuff." 

She nodded, resigned to the fact that no argument she made would deter
him from his course until they had some more solid evidence. That did not,
however, deter her from stating her case. "We have witnesses, and forensic
evidence here, Mulder. Wren said these spirit whatsits can't be seen by
non-natives, yet most of the witnesses of last night's attack were
Caucasian." 

"She also said they were gaining power and physically manifesting." He
shrugged. "You have to admit, it usually pays for us to look into ALL
possibilities." 

"Fine. Just don't start jumping at shadows on me. I think our killer is a bit
more corporeal." 

X 

Wren was tired. It was, however, a good tired. She felt she had
accomplished something. Her muscle aches and sore back were part of the
price she paid to the spirits for their aid. She was still hungry. While the
cornmeal pottage used to pay them and the spirits they represented was
alright, if a bit sweet, she was a steak-and-potatoes gal herself. She looked
over at her passenger and smiled into the waning light of the sun. 

"Wanna stop somewhere for some burgers and fries? I'm almost ready to
kill for a chocolate shake right now." She saw her mentor shake his head
sadly as he removed his hairbone earrings. 

"You are an extremely irreverent and impertinent young woman, Orenda
Brant. Make mine strawberry." He reached into one of the leather pouches
at his belt and withdrew a wallet. 

Wren laughed as she looked for and spotted a pair of golden arches. 

They both decided to go inside, keeping their faces neutral masks, heads
high as they ordered and drew attention in traditional garb. The entire time
Wren made sure not to look at Robert's face, or they'd both lose it and
dissolve into a fit of undignified laughter. 

After eating, she dropped her friend off at the zoo and headed home in the
darkness. As she pulled away from the back entrance of the zoo, she felt a
shiver creep up her flesh. From the base of her spine upward. Danger.
There was danger to someone she'd placed a protective blessing on. Just
great, today she had placed at least forty blessings. 

Out of nowhere, a flutter of white wings crossed the beam of her headlights
and she swerved to avoid hitting the bird that had flown into her path. She
got the impression of the large, dark, ancient eyes of the night hunter above
a small beak as she came to a full stop. Looking into the dimly lit side
street she couldn't see the bird. She had missed it... no... 

"Shit!" She muttered, throwing her Wrangler into gear she took off at a
reckless speed. That bird... she knew that bird. Skeno'oo-sho'o. It told her
who was in danger. 

X 

Having come up with nothing but dead ends from an entire afternoon on
the phone, Scully decided to call it a day. Or a night. She looked out one of
the windows, showing nothing but inky blackness. 

She brought out her phone and called a cab, then hit the first speed dial
button. 

"Mulder." His voice over the phone sounded tired. 

"It's me. Where are you?" She checked her watch, six-thirty. 

"I'm at Wren's. I have a stack of photocopies from two area libraries I'm
working my way through. After I get through them, I'm going to start on
the handful of Wren's books I've found. So... no luck?" 

"Not YET. But that doesn't mean I'm wrong, either. Our purp could just as
easily hunted down used equipment." She wasn't about to give up. 

"And the anesthetics could have been stolen or bought on the street.
Alright. When are you headed back?" 

"I just called a cab. I'll be there within a half hour." She looked out the
glass double doors at the building's front. A yellow taxi had just pulled up.
"My cab's here, Mulder. See you soon." 

Scully hung up and slipped the phone into her pocket. As she crossed the
sidewalk to the car, she thought she heard a faint scraping sound behind
her. Turning and peering into the shadowed darkness, she could detect
nothing out of the ordinary. With a shrug she got in and gave the driver
Orenda Brant's address. 

               #####

Mulder had taken the car at Scully's insistence. After all, she would be at
the field office making endless phone calls, and waiting on the bloodwork
reports on the latest victim. A cab was more logical for her than for him.
He'd hit two libraries, photocopying from a few books with references to
The Dark People. Wren had left them a key, so he'd let himself into her
home and perused her book shelves for further study. She had surprisingly
few books on legends and folklore and none on the Medicine Way. He'd
thought that odd at first, then realized the tradition she followed was
passed on orally. 

He felt vaguely uneasy, sitting alone in Wren's house, perched in an
overstuffed cream colored chair, reading from one of the handful of books
on Native American lore Wren DID have. What he had read so far was
NOT encouraging. Scully was right. Ms. Brant was putting an awful lot of
trust in virtual strangers. Government employees could be serial killers as
much as the next person. Mulder deliberately shoved images of his mentor,
Bill Patterson, out of his head. 

The kind of trust she was showing made him feel a bit guilty for reserving
his own. He was still suspicious of her, though he doubted she was the
killer. Why was she being so open and helpful? What was is in it for her?
Most people were motivated through their own agendas. Their own wants
and needs. So why did she want and need them there? 

He looked at his watch. It was seven o'clock. Scully wasn't back, but then
neither was Wren. He couldn't look out the window for either of them as
the night had made those openings to the outside world reflective surfaces.
He saw only himself in them, seated alone in a house that wasn't his. 

He heard his cell phone chirrup, thumbed the 'speak' button and spoke his
customary "Mulder." He expected to hear her sultry voice explaining her
delay since her last call. He frowned when there was no immediate reply.
"Is someone there?" 

"On-ye'iu` wae-gai`'ta-wak oni-at'ga`. I winnow the good from the bad,
that which belongs from that which does not. Your days are numbered."
The voice was male, and harsh before the connection was closed. 

Mulder immediately called the operator to see if the last call to his phone
could be traced. No luck. Whoever it was hadn't been on long enough. 

X 

Wren ignored the second red light in a row. Luck was with her, and the
roads were empty for the most part. She had to get home, had to hunt
down where the two FBI had gone for the day. Her teeth were clenched in
frustration. Her mind flew back to a vision of white feathers, and large,
night seeing eyes. Dana Scully was in danger. Mortal danger. 

X 

Scully tapped her fingers against the lab reports. Whatever had killed and
eaten parts of Paul Naylor had indeed had sharp teeth. And it exuded some
unknown venom. There were traces of a so far unidentified agent in the
victim's blood. It was not the heroin she had expected. This was most likely
a paralytic, an organically-based one the lab's chemist had never seen
before. She did NOT look forward to telling Mulder that. 

The cab was jarred slightly by the uneven roads. The driver had given up
on any precepts at encouraging conversation out of her. She was relieved
to see Wren's house up ahead. She handed the driver her fare plus a
reasonable tip and was just getting out when Wren's Wrangler tore down
the street. She squealed to a halt in front of the house and ran toward
Scully. 

"Dana! Thank the Spirit." Wren almost embraced her, paused and frowned
at the cab. 

"What's wrong?" Dana asked, surprised at the younger woman's actions. 

Wren frowned, the car... the cab. There was something wrong, something
dark, oily, cancerous about the cab. "I just had the strange feeling you were
in trouble." Wren took Dana's arm and tugged her toward the house,
hurrying her along while trying to appear otherwise. "So did I miss out on
anything interesting?" 

Wren opened the front door and practically pushed Scully inside. 

"Ms. Brant, what the hell is going on?" Dana was trying to keep her cool.
She did not take manhandling well. 

"They were out there. Stay here. The house is protected." She looked up
the stairs at Mulder, who had come at the first sound of Scully's indignant
voice. 

"If they're here we can't let you go out there alone." Mulder argued as
Wren started to open the front door. 

"You are not prepared to battle spirits, Agent Mulder. Watch from the
window if you must, and if anything of THIS world comes at me, feel free
to come out like some cowboy, guns blazing, but otherwise both of you
stay IN THIS HOUSE." 

She stepped outside, scanning the front yard. The cab was gone. The
darkness seemed to have gone with it. 

Frustrated, she turned around to go back in the house only to face both
agents, guns drawn, ten paces behind her. 

"You two have to be the biggest fools alive." She threw up her hands.
"They are gone now. I can't feel them near me. Now get back in the house
so we can talk." 



Chapter 10. 
---------------

So close. So very close. They could practically taste the essence of her
skin, her scent strong in their nostrils. They almost had her... until this
metal monster stopped before a sacred place. The soil exuded blessed
earth. Powerful magics protected the place. Still, they were ready to
strike... 

And then the Medicine woman came. Her presence was a shining light in
their darkness, a searing, burning presence that hurt to look at. She knew
how to protect, and before they could taste the prey, she had drug the
woman off, onto sacred ground, into a warded longhouse. 

They hungered still. And their anger was great. 

X 

Jasper Barns was glad that this was the last job of his shift. He was tired,
he'd had a cold all day and with the heat of the day, he'd had to keep the
windows up to run the air conditioner for his fares. He liked fresh air. It
was the air conditioner that had given him the cold, he was sure. 

On the return drive to dispatch, he switched off the AC and rolled down his
window. The night air, while warm and muggy, felt good. 

The cab jarred again. It was almost as if the road were bumpy, but the
macadam ahead was smooth. Great, now he had to tell dispatch the car had
to be looked at. 

Something hurtled through the open driver's window. Black and snarling
with many teeth. Jasper screamed as the cab swerved and struck a lamp
post. Broken, twisted shapes swarmed into the cab's confines. Jasper felt
the first agony rip through him, then he couldn't move... couldn't even
scream... 

X 

"Alright, talk." Scully sat in the chair Mulder had vacated when she and
Wren had come in. Wren sat on the couch, and Mulder remained standing. 

"The Dark People were out there. I can feel their presence when they are
close to me. It is a oily coldness. They were hunting you, Dana. They set
their sights on you." 

At Wren's words, Mulder stiffened, every nerve alert. "How can you be
sure?" 

"I was given a... vision. A protector of Dana's came to me. I almost didn't
understand. But when I did I came back home quickly. I had hoped to find
out where she was from you, Mulder, but fate was with us all and she was
here already." Wren's gaze shifted from one agent to the other, her eyes
clear and meeting theirs boldly. 

"I got a phone call just before you arrived." Mulder ran a hand through his
hair. "A man's voice told me - I winnow the good from the bad, that which
belongs from that which does not. Your days are numbered." He looked at
Wren, pinning her with his eyes, willing her to somehow enlighten him.
"They also spoke in your language. Onyay o waygi thawak oniath ga." He
knew he was mangling pronunciation, but hopefully Wren would
understand the words nonetheless. 

"At least he was playing translator. On-ye'iu` wae-gai`'ta-wak oni-at'ga`. It
means 'winnowing the good grain from the bad.' He let you know what he
was saying. But he said it in Iroquois first. He prefers the native tongue,
the translation was most likely grudgingly given so he could more fully
enjoy playing with you." 

"I was able to figure that out on my own. So whoever this guy is, he knows
we're on the case. If he DID send the Dark People after Scully, then he
knows were we are as well." This case was without any media attention so
far. However, anyone determined enough could find out who they were. 

"Yes, and it makes me all the happier that I offered you shelter. Here, you
are safe. It would take quite a bit to get through the defenses on my home."
Wren could see Scully was unconvinced. She had no idea how to convince
her though, so she allowed it to rest uncomfortably between them. 



Chapter 11. 
-------------

There was a far-off ringing. Orenda struggled to wakefulness against her
body's protests. The ringing came from the next room, one of the guest
rooms. Not her phone, theirs. Mulder, yeah, that was the room he chose.
Both of them trying to maintain the illusion of perfect professional distance,
and in Orenda's case, failing miserably. 

The ringing stopped, soft words, indecipherable through the walls came to
her. Then a knock on the other guest room door. Muffled voices, then a
woman's voice slightly louder, in protest. 

Wren switched on the lamp next to her bed just as there was a discreet
knock on her door. 

"Yes?" 

"They've found another body. Two miles from here. Um... I don't want
Scully out there... unprotected." Mulder's voice through the wood. 

"I'll be ready in five minutes." Wren answered and rubbed the sleep from
her eyes. 

She was ready in four. Agent Scully didn't seem to be happy. Wren got the
distinct impression she thought she could fend perfectly well on her own.
Any other time and she most likely could. The woman had a strong aura, a
powerful spirit not given easily to defeat. Yet in this situation, Dana was as
helpless as a babe. 

"Please wear this." Orenda held out a small pouch on a leather thong. "It's
a talisman. Touched by the three sisters, the earth and the water, the fire
and the air." Wren had worn the talisman herself on occasion. The pouch
held powdered squash, beans and corn, the ashes of a burnt eagle feather
and a stone rolled smooth and shiny by the water of a river. It wasn't much,
but it would help. 

Scully took the leather cord from Wren's fingers reluctantly. Urged on
more by Mulder's worried look than by any belief in the magic of the
medicine pouch. Wren knew this. It didn't matter if Dana took it to appease
Mulder and herself, it would work just as well. 

X 

Johnny Redcrow sat back and took a pull from his beer. He looked at the
boy next to him and smiled before passing the warm bottle. 

"So when're you talkin to the feds, Raini?" 

The boy took the proffered drink and finished it off. "Tomorrow I guess.
Dad was on my ass about it as soon as I got back. I bet they have Dad at
the top of their suspect list or somethin." Raini Twofeathers lit the joint he
had been rolling. Johnny was great for being able to produce grass for
Raini and his friends whenever they wanted it. 

Johnny had been jumpy all night. Raini had made him tell the story of what
he'd seen in the ol' complex over and over. Now it seemed like every time
he moved, Johnny would catch a glimpse of shadows moving out of the
corner of his eye. Crazy stuff. 

"Man, did you see that?" He could have sworn he saw something scamper
into the zoo office building to their left. 

"What? I don't see nothin. Maybe I will in a little bit." Raini drew in a large
lung full of the sweet smoke, feeling it burn his lungs before freeing his
mind. "If you ask me this is the kind of bad magic the whites brought on
themselves. I mean, they took our land, our freedom, everything. Now all
we got is our own self respect." The teenager took another drag. "No
wonder the old ones are pissed off, man." 

Maybe he did see something moving in the shadows. Maybe. 

X 

The crime scene was crawling with police. Wren was reminded of ants
crawling all over a carcass. She got in close enough to see what remained
of the victim. Not much. She shivered. The fact that he had no skin was far
from the worst of it. The mutilation was secondary to the fact that, for the
second time, the Dark People had taken a soul. Her spirit vision could not
tear away from the hideous gaping hole in the other realm where his soul
had been forcibly ripped away, and devoured. 

Mulder had a small evidence bag in his hand and played a flashlight over its
contents as he presented it to Scully. Wren watched the woman pale, then
straighten her back and launch into an argument. 

She had no time to pay closer attention as she dug into her purse for the
small pouch of powder. Yet again she began to chant the purification
ceremony. 

X 

"This is the guy who drove you to Orenda's, isn't it?" Mulder held up the
cab driver's ID clip. "Isn't it?" He repeated more forcefully. 

Scully crossed her arms and faced him boldly. "Yes, it is. Who was it who
was talking about circumstantial evidence earlier today?" 

"Scully, I don't believe in coincidence. I don't care right now if this is dark
spirits or trained chimps, whatever it is HAS targeted you." He took a deep
breath, preparing for a battle he knew he didn't dare lose. "I don't want us
separated any more on this case. We'll follow all leads together." 

"That's a waste of manpower. I can take care of myself, Mulder. I'm not
about to start putting up with this macho bullshit now." Her tone was cold
enough to frost the air. 

"This isn't macho bullshit and you know it. You have been targeted by a
serial killer. It's therefore downright dangerous for you to go anywhere
without backup. Officially this is enough to have you pulled off the case." 

"Don't you dare start quoting rules at ME. The man who sees the rule book
as a paper weight or a door stop. I'm not going to be coddled." 

"Since when do I coddle you?" At her raised eyebrow he almost grinned,
"Well recently anyway? I'm not asking you to drop the case, or even to
stop looking at it your way, I'm just asking you to stay by my side, so I can
work efficiently without worrying myself sick. And besides I use the rule
book to prop up my coffee table." 

They were interrupted by a delicate cough. They turned as one to see
Orenda staring pointedly at them. She had pulled out another of her
cigarillos and lit it before speaking. She drew in some of the smoke,
holding it as if to calm herself before exhaling. 

"They are almost too strong to stop right now. I don't think I can do this
on my own. I think they CAN be stopped, but I'm going to need your
help." She looked at them expectantly, unsure how they would take her
next suggestion. She motioned them away from the cab and all prying ears. 

"What do you have in mind?" Mulder asked first. 

"They feed off of pain, anger, fear and hatred. The way to weaken them is
to cut off their food supply. To counter it. To throw as much love,
compassion, hope and ... pleasure at them as we can." She tried to gauge
their reaction. 

"What? You're suggesting we get them to visit the red light district?"
Mulder crossed his arms. 

"Not EXACTLY." Wren took another drag and forged ahead. "I suggest
we lure them to a place of our choosing, somewhere that will be in our
favor, where I can fight them on the spirit plane. With as much power as
you two can give me. We set a trap. And that means bait." 

Mulder shook his head. "No way, we are NOT using Scully as bait." 

"The bait part I don't object to, but did you just propose what I think you
proposed?" Scully's eyes were wide, more shocked at this then at the sight
of the dead cabby. 

Wren nodded. "Sex Medicine is very powerful. It generates a great store of
energy in the spirit world. Positive energy, especially when positive
emotions are enmeshed in the act." 

Mulder almost choked, but was brought to a halt by the sight of a first;
Scully speechless. 



Chapter 12. 
-------------

6:15 am 
Amherst 

The silence in the car was a weight pressing on all of them. Scully hadn't
said a word since Orenda had told them her plan. Mulder knew she was
silently fuming. He was just glad Scully didn't have his violent streak or she
actually might have flattened Wren then and there. 

"Well if you two have a better plan for dealing with this I'd LOVE to hear
it. I really would." Wren finally spoke up. Mulder wished she hadn't. 

"How about we find the man who's trained the chimps?" Scully's sweet
tone didn't mask the acidity. 

Wren groaned and rolled her eyes heavenward from the back seat. "What is
it going to take to convince you we are not dealing with primates here?
One to drop on your head?" 

Everyone looked startled at the sound of something heavy hitting the roof
of the car immediately following that statement. 

Something landed on the hood and Mulder automatically swerved and
slammed on the breaks. The sudden stop threw two dark shapes off the
vehicle. That's when they heard it. The scraping. Something sharp and
grating scraping across metal. Mulder let out a yelp as a dark, misshapen
head pressed against the drivers side window. Glowing green eyes peered
malevolently in at them. The lumpy flesh appeared desiccated in the wan
light of the car interior. 

"What the hell is that?" Scully asked as another form crawled back onto the
hood of the car. 

"It ain't no monkey." Orenda spat out. "Turn on the interior lights. It might
help." 

Mulder complied and wished he hadn't. 

The faint light only revealed more of the things with rows of sharp, jagged
teeth in malformed mouths. No two appeared to be alike. "Oh fuck." 

Orenda tore her eyes away from the demonic green glow of the eyes. There
were more than a score of them. Climbing over the car now. Claws
scraping at the sides. Several managed to start insinuating their claws
around the edge of the passenger door and began to try and pry it open. 

"My sentiments exactly, Mulder." Orenda slapped down all the door locks. 

"What do we do?" He asked her, trying hard to maintain his cool. 

"Praying wouldn't hurt." She snapped back before taking a deep breath and
concentrating her sight beyond this world. What she saw shook her to the
core. The darkness around the Shadow People moved and flowed. They
were so powerful, they were corrupting everything in their immediate
vicinity in the otherworld. 

Reaching inside, she found her center, the place where her soul resided.
She touched that place and stood at the ready. 

Her eyes darted to the dashboard clock. Six eighteen in the morning. It was
still dark out, but she thought she could detect a faint lightening of the sky
in the east. Damn. What time was sunrise supposed to be today? 

Her attempt to remember shattered along with Scully's window. Scully had
her gun out and Orenda heard gunshots even as she saw Mulder unlatch his
seat belt and propel himself over the seat so he was almost on top of his
partner. 

"NO!" Wren tried to surge forward but in her haste forgot her own seat
belt. 

One of the Dark People was through the broken window. She saw its
twisted mouth open, revealing more than one row of teeth as it moved to
attack. Wren clawed at her seat belt at the same time as Mulder's fist
slammed into the thing where its glowing eyes were. The force seemed
enough to send it back out the window. 

Scully and Wren managed to both undo their own restraints at the same
time. However Scully found herself hampered by the significant weight of
Mulder half draped over her as he tried to awkwardly pull or drag her back
towards the driver's side. 

One taloned claw swiped through the ruined window aiming for Dana's
face. She let out a cry just as Mulder raised his arm. Wren heard the cloth
ripping on Mulder's sleeve, and wondered how much of that sound was
flesh. From the pained look on his face and the gasp he had tried to hold
back, enough of it was. 

That was when Mulder did the unexpected. Shocking Scully and making
Wren want to cheer. He kissed her. Scully. On the lips. It was not a
passionate kiss, but a tender one. Wren felt something, and looking with
her other sight, she could see it. A nimbus of soft blue light, flickering over
the form of Mulder, being used to bathe Scully. 

Wren was impressed. He was forcing back his own fear and pain, though it
was still faintly visible in the light, and pushing forward his positive
emotions. Even as she watched, Wren saw these getting stronger. The
Dark people had paused and drew back slightly. 

"It's working! Mulder, it's working!" Wren reached forward and touched
Scully's shoulder. "Look. See. It's working. Think of positive things.
Refuse the fear. Think of Mulder, of others you love." 

She tried. Out of desperation she really did. The light bathing them both
brightened a bit. But was it enough? There was still bruising colors of fear
interlaced with the light. It was beckoning the Dark People. Taunting them.
Drawing them as the light repulsed them. 

The sun was a sliver to the east. They needed time. Wren took hold of her
personal power and let it shine forth. 

The effect was immediate. The air in the car shimmered. An almost
perceptible glow emanated from Orenda as she sat, her hand wrapped
around the tiny leather pouch she wore as a necklace. The attacking
creatures drew back further, but only slightly. They hissed and gibbered,
but did not fully retreat. Not like they had earlier. They had grown in
power. 

The sun alone was their salvation. Just as Orenda felt her personal power
stretched to it's breaking point the light of day brightened enough for the
creatures to draw back, wailing in frustration. 

The three people in the car watched them simply blink out, as if they had
never been there. 

"What happened?" Scully's voice was surprisingly steady. 

"T-the sunrise." Orenda cursed her own trembling tone. "They can't stand
the light. Yet." 

"Do you still think we're looking at Chaeta with an attitude?" Mulder
moved back, off of Scully, wincing with the move. Wren saw the blood
soaking his left arm. 

"Mulder..." Scully blurted, reaching out for his injured arm. 

"It's ok. I'd feel a lot better if we got back to Wren's place before worrying
about it." 

They were silent again as Mulder drove them back to Wren's home, and
what protection it offered. 

X 

Raini stumbled down the stairs to his windowless bedroom in his
grandfather's tiny house. He'd made sure to leave his jacket outside to air
out. With luck, his dad and the old man wouldn't smell the weed on him. 

He paused at his bedroom door. He thought he heard faint scratching
sounds inside. Great. If Grandfather had mice or rats, Raini knew he'd be
the one to have to set the traps or bait the place. 

Opening the door a crack he thought he heard another sound, like a dry
whisper. Stirring leaves. 

His mind barely registered "Oh shit!" before the door slammed shut behind
him. 

X 

Wren sat on her couch, taking deep cleansing breaths as she looked down
the hall to her open bathroom door. Mulder was visible in the mirror. He'd
removed his ruined jacket and shirt and Scully was cleaning the four jagged
claw marks with antiseptic her face hidden by the angle. 

In the bathroom itself, Scully was trying to focus on the immediate.
Patching up Mulder. She wasn't sure what she was feeling right now, but
she was wound tight as a spring, and any moment she could explode. With
what she wasn't sure. Anger, fear, compassion... they all waged battle
within her. 

"You might need stitches on at least two of these." She dabbed at his upper
arm with a gauze pad. He just tightened his jaw at the raw burn of the
antiseptic. "I'll be fine. Just wrap it up," he managed through clenched
teeth. 

Scully didn't answer, just pressed cool fingers to the torn edges of flesh. He
was hurt because he put himself between her and those things. No matter
what he did to mask it the gashes were deep enough that they had to hurt
like hell. She hated to see him hurt. To counter the fear inside she allowed
the anger to come to the fore. 

"I couldn't move, Mulder," she hissed. "Not because of those... whatever
they were, but because you had me just as trapped as they did. I was
pinned down. Jesus, Mulder, I had my gun out. I'd fired two shots, I could
have shot you by accident. Not to mention that this is the result of your
own stupidity." If she wrapped the gauze a little too tightly, he deserved it.
"Just what the hell were you trying to pull back there?" 

"They were after you, not me, Scully. I only got this 'cause I was in the
way." He lifted his arm slightly to indicate the scratches. "It would have
ripped your face off." 

"Not if I had myself free to shoot it wouldn't have," she countered. 

"I think you are jumping down my throat to avoid the issue." He
announced as he left the bathroom, making her follow him into the
bedroom he'd claimed as his own. He pulled out another shirt, stiffly pulled
it on and began working the buttons. 

"What issue is that, oh wise one?" 

"That those weren't trained monkeys. Scully, I think we should listen to
what Wren has to say. You're right, you got two shots off. And it didn't
even phase those things. And I'm pretty certain of one thing... they are
gonna be back tonight." 

"And we can hold them off by thinking happy thoughts? First star to the
right and straight on till morning?" She crossed her arms. 

"Look at the facts. You're a scientist, look at what happened as an
experiment. Did my kissing you, did thinking and focusing on positive
emotions make a difference or not?" 

Scully frowned. Those things had drawn back when they had apparently
been winning. When they should have pressed forward. Had it been
because of what they had tried to do, because of Wren's instructions? 

"There did seem to be an effect, but we can't be sure it was because of
positive emotions." She hedged. 

Mulder grinned. "And if it was? Let's listen to what Wren has in mind." 



Chapter 13. 
--------------

Wren went into the kitchen to prepare some tea. Her nerves needed the
calming effect, and if she was fortunate enough to get an aquiesence, the
contents would help the ritual. Rose and Jasmine tea... and where did she
put the... oh there. Honey. Not her usual honey, the special jar hidden in
the back of the cupboard. It had expensive rose pollen mixed into it. The
pollen would be needed. 

She heard the two arguing softly in the back as she boiled the water and
prepared three cups. Placing the cups and the honey on a tray, she carried
them out to the coffee table. 

Scully entered the living room and sat on the couch, Mulder perching on
the arm. Both faced Wren with different messages in their eyes. 

"Talk," Scully said simply. It was all the invitation Wren needed. 

"We've pretty much established that the Dark People have targeted you,
Dana. So now we have to set a trap. I think you call this a pro-active
technique." Wren used some of the honey in her own tea, stirring carefully
before taking a sip and continuing. "I know the perfect place to lure them,
but it will take considerable time to prepare the place, and I need
permission. However, my personal power was depleted earlier. I'm certain I
cannot fight this fight without you. I will call the Circle and tell them my
plans. But in order for this trap to be assuredly sprung the others of the
Circle will have to concentrate their efforts all over the city. From different
locations, expending their energy to shield the population. To make sure
that only Dana is visible. This is no small undertaking, so we can consider
ourselves on our own for the final part of the fight." Setting aside her tea,
Orenda held a necklace of wampum. The seed beads glistening with earth
tones. Her restless fingers toyed with the eagle feather adorning it. 

"What I need most from you is... nothing you are unfamiliar with. The only
requirement is that one of you wear this. It will collect and store the power
you generate." Wren handed them each a cup of tea. 

Scully took hers then tucked her chin in, gathering her arguments. "Look,
Wren, I don't know where you think you got your information..." 

"Don't. Just don't. Don't insult my intelligence or my perceptions. It angers
me to hear you sit there and deny what you have, especially when what you
have may be our salvation. You want to keep your relationship secret, fine.
I won't breathe a word to anyone. But don't try to convince me of a lie."
Wren clenched her fists, the knuckles paling. 

"No. We won't deny it," Mulder said, ignoring the glare he got from Scully.
"But you are asking something a bit... personal." 

"I'm not asking for anything not already freely given. I'm ASKING for your
help. No matter what you decide, I am going to set this trap. I am going to
face the Dark People. Tonight. Alone if I must." 

"The trap idea might work. Look Scully, if this isn't supernatural, then you
are still a target, and the killer will just as easily be lured. I don't LIKE the
idea of you as bait, but we'll both be there, and armed." Mulder looked at
Scully, their eyes meeting and speaking silently. 

Wren stood and crossed to them. She took Mulder's uninjured arm and
raised his hand to press the necklace into it. His fingers closed around it. 

"I'm going to prepare the place. From here on in the decision is yours." She
grabbed her large purse and started down the stairs to the front door. "But
you have seen that you have an effect on them. You have witnessed it in
action. Do not throw away the opportunity to stop the Dark People before
they kill again." 

"Where?" It was Scully who asked. 

"The construction site where Tom Murphy was killed. The company
building there is run by a Seneca named John Littledeer. He respects the
old ways, so I should be able to get permission to set up. Besides, Tom
was killed hanging in the air, it makes cleansing the site difficult. The evil
of his death lingers there. It will help call those we wish to summon. If you
join me tonight, come just before sunset. I will be waiting inside an
incomplete powder circle. Step into the circle through the opening, and
then I will close it." With that Wren left them alone. 

Scully looked at Mulder. He downed his tea in a few short gulps then
looked at the necklace clenched in his fist, his brow wrinkled in thought.
She watched his face in silence. He frowned, shook his head slightly, then
tilted his head to the side. She could see him threading through ideas,
approaches, trying to decide which would be best. 

Scully drank some of the fragrant tea, sighed and placed her hand on top of
his clenched fist. Startled by the unexpected action, he pulled his hand
away. 

"I only wanted to see it, Mulder," she spoke softly. 

"Well if you wanted to see it all you had to do was..." The quip died on his
tongue when he registered the lack of hostility in her comment. She wasn't
arguing... at least not yet. 

He opened his hand and shivered as her fingers played over the small
beads, stroking his palm in places. 

"Dana, I think this," he took her hand, and turning it, deposited the
necklace in her small palm, "this could stand between life and death." His
eyes met hers, pinning her where she sat. "Yours. Your life." 

He didn't need to say more. She read it in his eyes. Without her he felt he
was nothing. He would be lost. Half of himself severed beyond redemption.
It scared her, more than those things that had attacked them earlier. This
was a responsibility she felt heavily. It was uncomfortable, but she
shouldered this burden for long enough that it was a familiar dread. Almost
a friend. 

She didn't say a word as she ran her fingers over the strung beads. She
didn't need the words. She lifted the necklace and looped it over her head.
It was statement enough. 

                                     #####

Outside the house, Orenda walked slowly, a yellowish powder trickling
from her fingers as she sang an old chant of blessing and prayer. The
powder was made of seeds and pollen. It would assure the energy raised
within the circle would stay there, and unable to escape into the world at
large, would go into the necklace. 

Finished at last, she cast a look at her home. 'Please,' she silently prayed,
'Please Great Spirit, let them understand and accept. Let them save
themselves, and all those the Dark Ones would destroy.' 

Wren checked her large purse for the supplies she needed. Satisfied, and
glad she had remembered the most important part, she went to her Jeep
and began the short drive to the construction site. And her destiny. 

X 

In another Place 

A hand-like paw swatted at Tor-yoh'-ne's nose. He lifted his head and
snapped at the offending appendage. The ball of gray fur that it belonged to
pulled back and skittered half way up a tree, looking down at him through
eyes surrounded by circles of black fur. 

>Do you know what's going on?< 

Tor-yoh'-ne looked up at the offending creature. This one was too much
trouble. <I assume you speak about the chosen one we share.> 

>They are going to try to gather power for the battle ahead.< The smaller
creature hopped down from the tree, seemingly unconcerned that
Tor-yoh'-ne thought he'd make a tasty meal given half a chance. 

<Your point being? We cannot influence their decision, and we have not
been asked to advise.> The great lupine head shook and he snorted. <And
while voyeurism may be your style, it isn't mine. Humans are so... awkward
about it.> 

>They may not be able to achieve enough power, not with her inner
doubts. BUT... if the lifespark were introduced, the power they generate
would increase threefold.< 

*Whooo do you think yooou are making plans for one not yooours.* Both
spirit animals looked up into the tree recently used as a bouncing post by
the smaller of them. Skeno'oosho perched above. Her large eyes peering
down at them accusingly. *Yooou are speaking of changing the life of one
of mine. The lifespark is nothing to be fooooled with.* 

>And if she dies because it was not enough and too late? Where does that
leave yours? On the wrong side of the spirit world. That's where.< The
little one rubbed his hand like paws over his face. 

-It is not that easy either.- Another animal entered the clearing. Not so
large as Tor-yoh'-ne, his build suggested their distant kinship. -Our chosen
has had things done. Abominations. They may prevent the lifespark.- 

One large eye blinked in the tree, then another. *Not with a little help.*
She conceeded. *And the four of us together should be able tooo counter
what was done. It may be her only chance. Perhaps yooou are right, thief.
Perhaps we should intercede.* 

Tor-yoh'-ne looked to his cousin. <What say you to this Je-yeh?> 

-I say it's about TIME.- Je-yeh tilted his furry head to the side, his tongue
lolling out. -When do we start?- 

>As soon as they're ready, of course.< The little thief rubbed his paws
together. 

Tor-yoh'-ne rolled his eyes. He just knew that one was getting his chosen
into trouble again. 
X 

"Are you sure about this?" Mulder plucked at the eagle feather dangling on
the necklace, twirling it in his fingers. 

"Mulder, shut up and kiss me before I change my mind." 

With a flash of smile, he bent down and followed orders. 



Chapter 14. 
--------------

Scully broke off the kiss as Mulder took her hand. Lifting it to his mouth,
he kissed her knuckles. A gesture somehow both courtly and passionate. 

He stood and kept hold of her hand as he led her down the hall, to his
room. 

Closing the door behind them, he stepped behind her. His hands on her
shoulders. She felt his breath, hot against her cheek, smelled the sweet
scent of the tea as he spoke. "Do you have any... reservations?" His lips
just grazed the outer edge of her ear. 

"A couple," she admitted with a shiver. "But not any inhibitions. You
believe in this. It can't hurt. And I want you. It's why I was hoping for a
hotel." 

"I know." His voice was husky. He tugged her backward until she was
leaning against him. Bending down, he nuzzled his mouth against the curve
of her neck. Just above the leather thong and the wampum necklaces. 

A sudden sense of physical weakness overtook her. She wanted to melt
into a puddle right then and there. But she couldn't. She leaned her head
back, exposing the line of her throat. He raised his hand to lightly caress
her throat while his tongue came out to do the same. 

His other hand moved from her shoulder to circle her, unbuttoning her
jacket, removing it deftly. As if he'd done so a hundred times before. Of
course, the fact that he had didn't hurt. 

Clothing was removed slowly, every inch of newly exposed flesh covered
in slow, lazy kisses. Hot and moist. Occasionally open mouthed and
accentuated with grazing teeth. They were equally determined to drive
each other beyond control with mouths and hands. 

They knew each other so well. Almost too well. He knew just how long to
tease her earlobe with his lips and teeth and she knew exactly how to draw
her nails down his sides. 

Unhurried, he drew her down to the bed. His gentle smile was as powerful
an aphrodisiac as any touch. That smile, and the intense look of desire in
his eyes were for her. Only for her. It turned her core to liquid and sent fire
through her veins. 

He graced each of her breasts with feathery kisses before taking the first
tight bud into his mouth. 

Dana cried out softly as she was slowly driven to sensory overload. She
shifted, arching beneath him. Wanting more, but also wanting to give. Her
hands flowed over the graceful lines, the taught muscle. Fingertips tracing
each rough scar as she thanked God that they were scars. Healed tissue.
Not fatal wounds. Though many had come close. Her hand grazed over the
gauze wrapping Mulder's upper arm. A few more to add to the collection.
To add to the appeal. Without them, he was too perfect. Oh not part by
part. His nose was too big, his jaw too square, his mouth just a hair too
close to his chin. But all flowed together to make the most appealing
whole. 

She flicked her tongue out to trace the small cleft there, on that chin. He
answered her by claiming her mouth. His tongue tangled with hers. The
contact raw, electric, and so many unnameable words she was drawn away
from conscious thought. 

She felt his fingers find her center, flicking it lightly and causing her to buck
against him. Her own fingers finding the swollen proof of his arousal as it
lay against her leg. She stroked it lightly. Adding just enough pressure. The
groan she drew from him rumbled in his chest. The slight vibration sending
tremors through her as well. 

He removed his hand, making her feel bereft. Plucking up the eagle feather
from where it lay between her breasts, he played it along her skin.
Gossamer touches over her neck, her breasts, circling one nipple, then
another. 

This is what Wren had meant. This thing. This power they held over one
another. Scully felt some small part of her mind not completely
overwhelmed by the sensual cocoon she was wrapped in realize this. It
wasn't about sex, not really. It was about this connection. This swelling in
her heart. The love that brought tears to her eyes. That was what this was
about. Two spirits joining as one, not only on a physical level. Two parts
making a whole. 

She felt him enter her and she bit down on her lip. The deliberate slowness
was driving her mad. Long, leisurely strokes, as if they had all day. She
moaned this time. They did. They had until just before nightfall. 

Each easy thrust was torment. Each movement of his body on hers, in hers,
drove her closer to the light. She felt his fingers twine with hers, holding
her hands on either side of her head. His mouth declaring devotion without
words. His body worshiping at the temple of hers. This was pure. This was
a manifestation of their love, their desires, their need for each other. 

She felt the spring coil tighter, a slow winding causing her to whimper into
his mouth. He ended the kiss to look down at her. His eyes daring her to
keep hers open, to watch him as he was watching her. He added just a little
more force, a little more speed to his movements. His weight pressing her
down, the light hair on his chest rough against her nipples. The feel of him
sliding into her then withdrawing. It was too much. 

She wasn't aware of speaking the last aloud till she heard his voice. Deep
and rough, his breath ragged. "It's never enough." 

She wanted him inside her. Not only this act, not only the unbearable
pleasure of this, but him. His whole being. She wanted him inside her skin,
she wanted to cradle him there, to never be apart. 

She threw her head back and screamed as the winding spring exploded. She
soared up into the light, danced among the stars, knowing that for this
moment she had her wish. He was there with her. Part of her. Together
they were more, then they ever were apart. 

                                     #####

>Now would be a good time.< The small gray spirit animal looked up to
the feathered being above him. 

*I think so toooooo.* The large eyes opened to look down at Tor-yoh'-ne
and Je-yeh. 

-Let's do it.- Je-yeh closed his eyes in concentration. 

Tor-yoh'-ne followed suit, feeling himself link to the others, his brothers
and sisters in spirit. Together the braved the blinding force of the magic
their chosen had created. Penetrating it. Finding the seeds of the lifespark,
they willed it to be. Weaving protections and assurances, they set off a
second explosion of power. One of such force it threw them back, away
from the center of their attention. 

The four spirit animals crumpled under the force. They landed in
undignified heaps in the Place they inhabited. Tor-yoh'-ne opened his eyes
first. Blinking against the pain that suffused his matter. For it was not truly
a body he wore here. 

*Remind me never toooo listen tooooo the Thief again.* Skeno'oosho'o
groaned before picking herself up from the ground and fluffing her feathers. 

>But we did it.< The Thief chittered. 

<Yes. I hope we don't regret this.> Tor-yoh'-ne moaned, gaining his feet
and balancing on unsteady limbs. 



Chapter 15. 
--------------

Mulder returned to his room, still damp from the shower. He could hear
the water still running in the bathroom. Scully had wanted to linger a bit
longer. Checking his watch, he noticed that they had one hour before dark. 

He smiled to himself. They'd certainly kept busy. If Wren didn't have what
she needed, then she certainly couldn't blame them. 

He picked up the wampum necklace from the dresser, holding it up so the
eagle feather spun lazily in the air. Pondering it. It really didn't look like
much. It wasn't even very colorful. Just muted earth tones and a unadorned
feather. 

"That is not getting dressed," Scully scolded from the doorway, wrapped
only in a towel, her hair wet from the shower. 

"I'm working up to it. I think you threw my back out." He gave her a
lopsided grin. 

"You just need to exercise more." She stepped into her room, closing the
door behind her. 

"With you? Anytime, Scully," He called after her. 

                                     #####

Wren had only been dimly aware of the worker's leaving hours ago. She
had gotten permission to set up, and the construction crew had worked on
the other side of the huge monolith they were creating. The steel girders
and beams reminded her of a skeleton, or monstrous jaws closing in on her. 

Ignoring that thought, she'd spent the afternoon working. Observing rituals
to make the circle safe, to call blessings on the coming battle, to prepare
herself. She had managed to achieve a state beyond herself. She could not
allow fear to become part of her. To fear this enemy was to allow them to
win. She banished her fear, to be dealt with later, when this was all done. 

When she built the fire in a circle of stones on the poured concrete floor
she began to shed her outer self. Orenda Brant. The woman who walked in
the white world. The woman who held worked as a CPA to earn the
money to pay the bills. That woman was not needed here. She was the
woman who would allow the fear to take her, so she must go. Goodbye
Orenda, until this is over. 

Instead she concentrated on Wren-Who-Flies-Swiftly. This is who she
needed to be. Time itself had little meaning to Wren-Who-Flies-Swiftly,
only the light and the dark truly mattered. She sat in an incomplete sacred
circle and sought out Whirlwind. She had tied his face to her own. Her own
breath hot against her skin, the press of the wood on her cheeks, nose and
forehead was a comfort. 

She felt him close. Opening herself to him, she allowed Whirlwind to merge
with her. Through him and with him she felt the burden of taking on the
pain and ills of the mortal world, of bearing it eternally in the world of
spirits. 

                                     #####

Tor-yoh'-ne managed to get to his feet. He'd only gained a portion of his
strength back. Regardless of his condition, he would be needed tonight by
one who counted on him. 

>What are you doing?< The thief looked up at him, startled at the
determination and effort his depleted brother spirit. 

<Wren-Who-Flies-Swiftly needs me. I knew I would have to fight when I
helped the three of you bring about the lifespark in our chosen ones. The
cost was greater then I had thought, though. I only hope I have enough
power to make a difference.> With no further words Tor-yoh'-ne left,
seeking she whom he had agreed to sometimes advise. 

X 

Laurance Twofeathers knocked once more on his son's door. The boy was
becoming more and more difficult. Today he had been called by the school
when Raini had not shown up for classes. He had stewed silently all day,
waiting for his son to show up for work. He'd never showed up at the zoo
either. 

"Raini, we need to talk." Laurance had found his son's jacket on the back
porch. Picking it up he had smelled the cloying smoky sweetness of pot. He
was lost between anger and disappointment. He had thought he'd done a
better job as a father. Sure, Raini had his problems. Losing his mother to a
drunk driver when he was so young was the largest of them. Laurance had
always tried to be there, though. As had his father. Raini seemed lost in
some downward spiral that was just now becoming apparent. Laurance
knew he must intervene now, or it would be too late. 

"Raini." He knocked again. 

Dad was upstairs, lost in a medicine trance, working some sort of hiding
magic on the immediate area. Laurance knew that this was supposed to
help Orenda Brant somehow, but how was lost to him. Laurance didn't
have the right temperament or power for the Medicine Circle. 

Giving up on knocking, he finally did something he swore he would never
do. He pushed in on the door, invading his son't privacy. What he saw
chilled his blood and closed his throat. 

"No." His denial was of the heart and of the spirit. "Noooo." The second
denial was the sound of a man lost. The sound of grief. 

Turning from what he had seen, he stumbled upstairs. Trance or no trance
he needed Robert Twofeathers. No matter what the age of the man, faced
with this, he needed his father. 

                                     #####

Mulder hadn't really wanted to look at the rental car. Scully had, of course.
There were deep gouges in the metal, some puncture marks, and the
smashed window. Mulder swept the gummy safety glass carefully, running
a hand over the seat when he was done to make sure he'd gotten it all. Only
then did they head out to the construction site. 

Scully held the necklace. He'd convinced her to wear the other one, the
protective one by basically giving her his best 'please-do-this-for-me' look. 

The entire drive, he was aware of her small fingers stroking over the
wampum as they would worry beads, or a rosary. She was more frightened
by this than she was letting on. He knew this, but didn't dare call her on it.
For her own reasons she needed to keep up the front of cool confidence. 

They parked in the parking lot, next to the only other car there at the time.
Orenda's Wrangler. The sun was going down now. They had cut it a bit
short. 

Mulder and Scully walked to where they could see the dancing glow of
firelight. Wren was seated, cross legged, behind the fire. She wore the
Whirlwind mask she had shown them before. 

Seeing them, she rose. "Step in at the opening." 

Mulder looked down to see a circle painted a deep red onto the concrete.
A small opening was left for them. They both did as instructed. Once inside
Wren bent down and painted the circle closed. 

"Now, from this point on, do not cross the circle, no matter what you see
or hear. Not for any reason are either of you or anything OF you to cross
the circle. It will break the circle and null the protection it offers. Have a
seat." Wren gestured to the fire. 

The circle they sat in was large enough to accommodate them all
comfortably. Wren held out her hand and Scully handed over the necklace. 

"You've done well." Mulder detected the smile in the voice. "I had no idea
this much could come of even the two of you. Thank you. This will be the
saving of us tonight." 

With that, Wren resumed her seat and began a low chant, the words lost
and muffled by the mask she wore, only her dark eyes visible through it. 

It was when the darkness increased, and the sun was lost that Mulder heard
it. At first only faintly over the crackling and popping of the fire, but
steadily growing stronger. A dry whisper. An occasional scraping sound.
The smell of decay soon followed. He reached out to touch Scully's arm as
his eyes moved wildly, trying to see beyond the circle of firelight, to peer
into the darkness which had suddenly seemed to come alive. The darkness
itself was a weighted pressing thing, living somehow. And he knew they
were out there. The Dark People had come. All that stood between them
and the creatures out there, unseen but not unheard, was a line of red paint
on the concrete. 



Chapter 16. 
--------------

Scully could just make out shapes. Dark on dark. Suggestions of the
menace awaiting them outside the circle. She imagined the fire held them
back. Whatever they were. Fire was a real threat to most animals. It
certainly wasn't the circle Wren had painted. 

She'd put her faith in fire over Dutch Boy any day. 

Mulder's hand was painfully tight on hers. He had eased his gun from its
clip at his waist. 

Wren seemed oblivious. She simply sat there, chanting. Her tone never
changing, never wavering. 

Then she saw the eyes. Pinpoint of green light. Their glow too bright
against the darkness. The hair on the back of her neck rose. She could
almost feel them reaching for her. Hating her. 

"Just don't move," Mulder spoke softly. 

"This is not Jurassic Park, Mulder. I doubt their vision is based on
movement. As a matter of fact, I'm pretty sure they see us just fine. Better
then we see them." She had her own gun out now. Her palms were slick
with nervous perspiration. 

They looked at Wren. The mask seemed to move on her face, the carved
features coming alive in the dancing firelight. 

Wren herself was only dimly aware of her friends. The darkness was
pressing in on her, and only the power she had tapped from the necklace
held it at bay. She waited, hoping to lure them closer. The very presence of
the Shadow People was a sick layer of slime on her other senses. 

She locked out her fear, concentrated on maintaining the circle yet drawing
them closer. Then she felt it. The presence of another. Not one of the
Medicine Circle, but with power nonetheless. Power feeding the Shadow
People. Linked to them in blood and death. A human with a sickened soul. 

"Do you think you can fight them, Wren-Who-Flies-Swiftly?" The voice
slithered through the darkness. 

Mulder and Scully turned in the direction of the voice. A young man
stepped from behind a girder. He was still mostly lost in shadow, but the
bow he held was plainly visible. 

Wren turned her head to face him. "Raini. Why? Why all this?" 

"To cleanse the land of their presence. They are vermin to be destroyed.
Yet you sit there and try to protect them. A good little pet to the whites.
You are pathetic." 

"None of this will bring your mother back, Raini. Do you think she's proud
of what you are doing?" Wren shook her head sadly. "Her death was an
accident. But her spirit's sadness is your doing." 

"Don't play those games with me, bitch. They promised me revenge, and
power. I've tasted what they can give me." Raini raised his bow and turned
it, aiming the notched arrow straight for Scully. 

Mulder was on his feet and standing before her in an instant, his gun
pointed at the boy. "Drop it." 

Raini only smiled. Dana, unwilling to hide, stood up and took her place at
Mulder's side. Gun raised and aimed. Outside the circle the Shadow People
scampered and scurried. Their whispering gibbers took on an urgent tone.
The air was thick with anticipation. 

Raini drew the arrow back. 

"NO!" Wren reached her hand out for Mulder and Scully. Raini released,
sending the arrow at Scully. Mulder pushed her toward Wren as he fired. 

The world went mad. 

Mulder's bullet slammed into Raini, sending the boy backward, flying into
the darkness. The arrow whizzed past Mulder, since Scully wasn't in its
path anymore. Instead, she was pushing herself up from where she landed
on Wren. 

Something hit Mulder in the back. Something that dug sharp daggers of
pain into his shoulders. A heavy weight bearing him down. 

Wren gained her feet and, grabbing a burning stick from the fire, swung it
at the Dark Spirit pinning Mulder. 

"Gwa-nee' ga-o-ya'-geh che-de-oh'; sa-sa-no-do'-gah-teek;" her voice
intoned. "Your bullet crossed the circle." The blow connected, sending the
thing back into a gathering of it's fellows. "I TOLD you not to let anything
of you cross the fucking circle!" 

Another of the Dark People sprang, this one aiming for Scully. She shot
three times, to no effect. It pushed her to the ground and she raised her arm
to shield her face. A beam of light struck the thing and it fell back,
shrieking. 

Wren stood in the circle, her whole body suffused with light. She raised a
hand and from her palm, another burst of light flashed, laser straight, and
struck another of the creatures. In her other fist, she clutched the wampum
necklace. 

Mulder had managed to pull himself to his knees. His back was on fire. He
felt the pain and the wetness, and knew he was hurt worse then before. 

"Ga-o' ne-dwa na' sa-nunk-ta; na-huk' ne-y-weh' na yo-an'-ja-geh..." Wren
faced the oncoming swarm of twisted shapes. 

Scully crossed to Mulder's side, her face pale. Her gun was still in her hand
and she clutched it more as an anchor then as a weapon. 

The Dark Ones could taste the fear in them. Another sprang at them and
was met by a bolt from Wren's hand. Each bolt, however, seemed to be
weakening Wren. 

Whirlwind touched her mind. <<Sacrifice holds the greatest magic. Are
you prepared to sacrifice, Wren? What will you give up to defeat them?>> 

Wren refused the fear. To give in was to give up. *YES,* she thought at
Whirlwind, *My life, anything. I can not allow this to continue.* 

Her heart swelled with love. An all encompassing love for all things. From
the smallest blade of grass to the man and woman behind her. She loved
them all, this world, its people, even Raini, poor misguided child that he
was. She would die willingly for them. 

She flung her arms out to her sides with a cry to the heavens. 

The Shadow People attacked. 

She felt agony rip through her arm, and with that she lost all ability to
move. She was not afraid. 

She fell and saw one of them, snarling, reached a clawed hand for her face.
She was not afraid. 

As the agony ripped through the mask, through her face, through her mind,
she knew it would be the last thing she would ever see. She was not afraid. 

Scully screamed and fired once again at the swarming creatures. She kept
shooting until her clip was empty. Mulder saw the things turn their
attention away from the fallen Medicine Woman and focus on her. 

No. He stood, ignoring the pain, and wrapped his arms around Scully. He
wouldn't let them have her. He loved her. He would die for her. 

A great war cry echoed through the construction site, from a girder above
them. 

Mulder looked up to see a man, dressed in military fatigues and a wooden
mask both similar and different than Wren's. He leapt from the girder to
land agilely next to Wren's prone form. 

He plucked the necklace from her fingers, and held out his hand. A light
bolt took another of the Shadow people. They turned to face the
newcomer. 

"Blood of my blood brought you here. A sacrifice made of love has
weakened your hold to this world. Now my blood will send you BACK!"
The man drew a primitive stone knife across his palm. Placing the necklace
in his bloodied hand, he held it out. Crying out as the power flowed from
him. Blood red. The Shadow People shrieked. 

Scully's grip on Mulder tightened. She was seeing something she could not
explain away. She was terrified. 

Mulder held on to her. This fight was out of their hands now. He knew
that. Their contribution was held within the necklace. 

The Shadow People began to fade under the onslaught. They became more
and more insubstantial. Until, at last, they were no more. Only one twisted
form remained. Still and unmoving where they had once been. 

The masked man dropped his hand and seemed to wilt. He fell to his knees
beside Orenda. 

Mulder stepped closer to the small, twisted form on the ground. It was a
disfigured corpse of a baby chimp. 

Scully called to him and he looked up to see her crouched over Wren. 

"My God, Mulder, call an ambulance. She's still alive!" 



Chapter 17. 
--------------

Scully watched Mulder approach. His usual graceful gait was replaced by a
stiff, uncomfortable walk. Each step planned to cause the least discomfort. 

His back had been bad enough. A grand total of eighty-six stitches. Scully
winced. Oh joy, he was going to be a pain to live with for a while. She
wondered if she could get him to actually take the pain killers. He'd
accepted them easily enough. She sighed, that only meant it hurt a lot more
than he was letting on. 

He was wearing a rumpled dress shirt from the overnight bag in the back of
the rental car. Under that was enough gauze to wrap up a mummy... and
four of her kiddys. 

Mulder had sent her to check on Orenda while they were sewing him up.
She had returned to tell him they both needed to go to Orenda's and sleep,
they couldn't help her by staying at the hospital exhausted. Scully couldn't
tell him. Not yet. 

They'd arrived this morning and Mulder let her out at the doors while he
found a parking place. She now stood outside of the ICU, looking in at the
two figures. 

Mulder's shoulder brushed against hers. 

"How are you doing?" she asked, trying to delay. 

"Not too bad. I figured I'd just tell your mother you're a real animal." His
lips twitched but the smile didn't go to his eyes. She didn't even bother. 

He nodded at the room, and Scully knew she'd have to say it. Get the
words out. 

"She... they... she doesn't have eyes, Mulder. They... gouged them out.
She's blind." Scully's eyes moved over the heavy pads over the prone
woman's eye sockets, the white wrapping like a blindfold. Two drainage
tubes peaked out the corners into reservoirs, each tube filled with a milky
red substance. Tears of blood." The mask protected her face." She spoke
out loud, not intending to. 

Mulder closed his eyes and tried to compose himself. When he opened
them again, they were bright with unshed tears. He liked and respected
Orenda Brant. In a few short days, she had managed to move into the very
short list of those Mulder willingly called friend. 

"There's more." Scully watched as the man seated at Orenda's side
constantly held the woman's hand, stroking her arm with a bandaged hand.
Robert Twofeathers had not left Wren's side except for the few times the
doctors had thrown him out. 

"What?" Mulder met Scully's gaze. 

"Those creatures secreted a venom. A paralytic. It stopped her heart twice
in the ambulance. But they managed to get it going again. Latest blood
work shows it's mostly out of her system now. Her left leg. It's been badly
ravaged. She lost a lot of blood. Um... they couldn't even count how many
stitches they used trying to put it back together. She'll always have a limp,
even with the best therapy. Her right arm was chewed up too, but not as
badly or as deep. She should regain full use." 

"I shot across the circle," he said simply. 

"Mulder, that didn't have anything to do with..." 

"Like hell it didn't. They didn't attack us until I shot across the circle. She
wouldn't be... I should have paid more attention." Mulder closed his eyes
again. 

"Even if it DID have something to do with it, how were you to know a
bullet counted? Raini would have shot one or both of us if you hadn't
fired." 

Mulder just shook his head. "Does he know?" His gaze fell on Robert
Twofeathers. 

"Yes. He called his son. I understand Laurance has family with him now.
He said to tell you he doesn't blame you. He understands you did what you
had to." 

Scully gasped as Orenda's unbandaged arm lifted and her long, slim fingers
brushed against the bandages over her eyes. "She's awake." 

Robert Twofeathers gestured them inside. 

"Hi." Scully didn't smile. Wren couldn't see it anyway. 

"Hae'. I feel like I'm in the middle of a funeral." Wren's voice was raspy.
"Lighten up, you guys. I'm alive. Great-Sky-Hunter and Tor-yoh'-ne
wouldn't let me leave this world. One stood above me, his wings blocking
off the heavens, the other practically sat on me to keep me here." 

Scully winced, sure that Wren was suffering drug-induced hallucinations. 

"I know. Rob told me. I'll be fine. I was told early on that not all sacrifices
are of one's life. I must remain strong and keep on living. I paid this price,
willingly. I will not sulk over it now." 

Mulder stood behind Robert and took Wren's hand. "I don't think anything
can keep you down for long." 

Wren's lips turned up in a weak smile. "I still have visions of going down
fighting." 

"How did you know?" Scully looked at Robert now. 

"Laurance went into Raini's room. He found... the Dark People brought
Raini trophies. The last one was the skin of the previous victim. We were
so blinded by our love for him we didn't see what was beneath the surface.
Even I, who should have seen, should have sensed... I failed Raini. I was
not about to fail Orenda too." 

"Um... the dead baby chimp we found?" Scully needed some sort of
answer. 

"To call in the Shadow People Raini needed a souless shell to act as a door
between worlds. He never incinerated the body of Lucy's baby as he was
supposed to. He used that." Robert looked away, ashamed of what his
grandson had done. His wounds were as deep as Orenda's. Just not as
visible. 

                                     #####

One month later 

Wren sat at the table, her quick hands skimming over the rug she was
weaving. It would not have a pattern of colors, but one of touch. Raised
sections would give her the pattern she desired. 

It hadn't been easy. Robert had moved in with her. Partly out of a
misplaced sense of guilt. She was glad of the help, though. He knew when
to back off, and let her alone. 

She heard the doorbell chime and Robert's steps and he descended the
stairs to answer it. Muffled voices. Then the steps of two men ascending
the stairs, the patter of four smaller feet. 

"Wren, this is Lemual Johnson. He's says he's a friend of Fox and Dana.
He's brought you something." Wren nodded, looking beyond her blindness. 

She had lost her Mortal sight, but her othersight worked just as it always
had. Before her stood a tall, thin man of about Robert's age. She couldn't
see features, only a quiet strength and determination. Beside him stood...
something else. It shone with wonder. As brightly as a totem spirit, yet as
mortal as she. It was a dog. 

"Orenda Brant. This here is Babes. She's a very special dog. She's
volunteered to work with you. She'll be your eyes, if you'll give her a
home." Mr. Johnson spoke as Wren felt a cold nose press at her hand. She
heard a snap, then some slow clicking noises. 

"What is that? How did you.." 

"Mulder and Scully gave me a call, told me what you did. Babes here just
lost her previous companion to nature. She was eighty nine. So... Babes
volunteered. See, Mulder and Scully helped her brother a couple of months
back." 

The Wren heard it. An emotionless, electronic voice. "Pleased to meet you
Wren. Do you have any wieners?" 

"What the..." She heard Robert nearly choking behind her. 

"It's the dog. Wren, the dog just typed that on a laptop." Robert told her. 

"Some friends of ours in DC hooked this laptop up to a sound system so
Babes can talk to Orenda." There was a smile in Mr. Johnson's voice. 

Wren looked with her othersight, at the shining dog spirit before her, and
she found herself not doubting it at all. 

"Ms. Brant, let me tell you a story," Johnson began, "about government
tests with DNA, and a very special breed of dog..." 

The End of D.D. II.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Disclaimers: Oh MA... do I have to? Ok... what do a California Surfer,
October 13th and a furry woodland creature all have in common? They
own the rights to the X-Files. Jackie St. George belongs to Sheryl Martin
and makes her guest appearances with permission. The story is mine
though.

Thanks - To Deirdre Warshall, Amy Clayborn, Mary Ruth Keller, Nancy
Lemieux and Cheryl Deluca for giving me some help with the science
involved.

Thanks to Sheryl "The Dragon" Martin for allowing me to borrow Jackie
for my own nefarious purposes.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Dogged Determination III: PANDORA'S BOX



Chapter 1 - Of dark and light, mysteries cried out 
------------

Cleveland, Ohio 
Office of Edward Kline, P.I.

The young woman fidgeted in her seat, yet met the eyes of the private
detective with an unwavering gaze. "Is there a problem?"

Eddie Kline looked the girl over. Her case wasn't really that unusual on the
surface and she'd provided him with a lead that would make his job a little
easier. What was unusual was her age and who was footing the bill. Her
father. In these cases that was rare.

The young woman before him was seventeen. She looked older but it was
mostly in the confident air she surrounded herself with. The slight nervous
fidget was the first sign he'd seen of any insecurity in her. 

She was also one of the loveliest clients he had. She might be jail bait but
nothing could stop a man from looking, even if he wanted to smack himself
for it later. 

She was tall and it was most likely awkward for her. She had to be five
eleven or so. The long hair flowing to the middle of her back was the red
brown of rich mahogany shot through with hints of gold and darker
browns. Her eyes, bright and alert, were hazel, shifting from one color to
the next with the slightest change in mood. Her current anxiety turning
them a dark chocolate. Her build wasn't exactly lascivious. On the contrary,
she looked like a dancer. Of course dancers weren't usually that tall nor did
they carry with them the faint scent of formaldehyde.

"Maybe. I just wanted you to know what I've found so far." He pulled out
a file. "I was able to find records of your birth in Scranton, Pennsylvania.
However, the records have been sealed. I can't get ANYTHING other than
that a Connie McKenzie WAS admitted to the Community Medical
Center's Maternity ward February tenth. They won't release any more. No
matter how nicely I asked or threatened. So our next best lead is going out
there and retrieving whatever is in the safe deposit box."

The girl looked thoughtful. "We could go this weekend. I can have some
friends give me their notes so I won't miss too much. Daddy won't object."

Mr. Kline looked at the signed check on his desk, payment for his time so
far in attempting to locate this girl's birth mother. Nope, daddy didn't seem
to object at all. 

Kline couldn't figure that out. Most adoptive parents were at least a little
resentful of this kind of search, viewing it as a rejection of them, not as a
search for personal justification. And most of these type of cases he'd dealt
with did not involve a kid who had graduated High School at fifteen and
were currently in their second year of pre-med. She was pretty, beyond
intelligent, and she seemed to have it all together in the personality
department so her father's open support was confusing. 

Or maybe it was where she got some of her confidence. If he had instilled
that in her he had plenty of his own.

"If you clear it with your father, then we, the three of us, will go this
weekend." Kline agreed.

Her father had to come, or some other 'adult'. She was young and pretty
and a client. He didn't need the crap traveling alone with her would bring.

She smiled brightly and shook his hand. She had all the faith in the world
that he'd find her birth mother. Kline just hoped she wouldn't be
disappointed. He'd tried to explain that. No matter what the letter said, the
woman MAY not want anything to do with her. Hope Jamison had just
shrugged and smiled, telling him she'd deal with that when it came.

When the girl left he sat back and waited, knowing full well he'd have a
second visitor. He was right.

"What did you tell her?" the man asked even before he had the office door
fully closed. He took a drag off his cigarette and looked down his nose at
Kline. 

"The truth. That I got stonewalled by the hospital staff." Kline gestured to
the seat across his desk that the girl had just vacated. The other man didn't
acknowledge the gesture. "Why is it so important that she not find her birth
mother?"

"That doesn't concern you." The man tamped out his cigarette in Kline's
little tin ashtray. "What concerns you is fifty thousand dollars."

"You don't strike me as the kind to normally buy people off." Kline leaned
back in his chair, rubbing along his nose with a right hand obtrusively
missing a ring and little finger. 'No... you usually deal with things a bit
more... permanently, don't you,' he thought to himself.

The man didn't move, no expression passed his lined face. Kline knew
people though and he knew this kind. He presented a mystery of his own.
"So why buy me off?" 'If you were dead, she'd just go to another
investigator. Leaving a trail of bodies would be... inconvenient at best,'
Kline reasoned with himself. But just who did this guy work for, and what
did he have to do with Hope Jamison?

The man didn't answer. He just stared, his face devoid of expression.

"I'll tell you what I will do." Kline made up his mind. In his twenty years on
the force he had never taken a bribe. The gunshot that had ruined his gun
hand, and with it his days as a cop, had NOT ruined his integrity. "I'll treat
our conversations with client confidentiality. But I'm not gonna play your
game. Take your money, and leave now, before this gets ugly."

The man calmly lit another cigarette. "You have no idea how ugly this can
get Mr. Kline. I'll leave the option open for you. And I am going to hold
you personally responsible for that young woman's safety." Was the last a
threat against Hope or against him, Kline wondered. The man left the office
quietly, only the haze and odor of his cigarettes to witness that he had been
there at all.

                                 #####

Delmark BioMed 
Cleveland, Ohio

It had been a long day, and his eyes were playing tricks on him. They had
to be. 

Dr. Rob Jamison looked away from the results he'd finally gotten back
from a test he'd run two week's earlier.

In his five years with Delmark BioMed he had never seen anything like this.
And he'd looked at thousands of DNA strands in those years. Thousands of
carefully numbered, little boxes, both of the antique tin manufacture and
the more up to date plastic kind. Every one carefully mapped at his station
and cataloged. Thousands of volunteer test subjects who had undergone
treatments for cancer research. Although he'd always thought cataloging
some of the old samples to be a waste of time he'd never run across
anything more unusual then the occasional birth defect. Until today. 

He looked over at the file on the lab counter. Frowning, he noticed the red
label for the first time. Not one of his. He only tagged blue labeled files.
He'd been told not to bother with the others as they had specialists for each
field of research. Somehow this one had been misfiled and sent to him.

He looked at the results of the mass spec and NMR. He'd run them after
sequencing this lot and finding the sense strand contained gaps in it upon
examining the autoradiograph. 

The nucleotide pairs in this strand were wrong. Wrong? hell, they shouldn't
even exist. He had no idea what they were. They were none of the naturally
occurring nucleotides. He quickly scrawled a note on the first flow of print
out. "X and Y?" 

Thinking for a moment, he set the copier to spew out two copies. He had
to be onto something amazing. If Delmark had known about this before,
they would surely have been crowing to the media. This kind of discovery
could make a research facility famous.

However, the unidentified bases had been linked to known bases. Some
sort of... of hybrid. This was impossible. It should be, anyway. This is what
set off his internal alarms. He felt a cold sweat break out over his body. 

The new bases had no place in any science he knew of, except maybe
science fiction. Up until now he'd done his job just as specified, leaving any
and all red labeled files alone. Looking into this one had been the result of a
mix up... but what if they were all like this? Why tell him not to bother with
the other labels when he could have been helping out any overtaxed
colleagues at any time?

Rob Jamison shoved the print outs into his briefcase along with the sample
case. He did not stop to wonder what was possessing him to do this. He'd
never taken so much as an ink pen from the labs before. But if they... his
employers, did know about this, and kept it quiet...why? Because they were
grafting the new strands to human DNA? It was unthinkable, unethical,
illegal... Rob felt sick to his stomach. What was he a part of? 

Five years ago, when the project he'd been working on lost its grant and
Maria was fighting her last battle with Cancer being offered this job out of
nowhere was a godsend. He was able to pay the doctors for Maria, and
provide for his daughter. He'd never questioned the offer coming just when
he needed it before. Now... it looked like some sort of set up. An offer he
COULD NOT refuse. 

He looked at his watch as he went back to work. Trying to look as if his
whole life hadn't changed in the last ten minutes. Trying to be
inconspicuous and insignificant. When he took a break he made a single
phone call, his hands shaking slightly as he pressed the numbers.

"Hi, you've reached Frankenstein's laboratory. We're out cutting up some
cadavers right now so if you leave your name..." The tinny recording was
cut off and replaced with a more natural voice. "Yo, I'm here."

"Hope, honey, could you meet me for dinner tonight?" He tried to sound
casual.

"Daddy? Sure. Is something wrong? Can I bring Marc? We were sorta
planning on bagging a pizza for ourselves as we studied but..."

"I'd really prefer if it could be just you and me tonight. Just a father
daughter thing." He noticed another doctor walk into the room, look
around, shrug and leave. 

"Uh... sure. I can gross out Marc any time. Oh... and can you free yourself
for Saturday? Mr. Kline said the hospital where I was born is giving him
the run around, so he's hoping the safe deposit box this letter mentions will
hold some answers."

"Sure." Rob swallowed hard. He knew how important this search was to
his daughter. But it paled in comparison to what he had on his hands right
now. "Look I'll talk to you at dinner. Seven o'clock at the Villa."

"Ok, seven it is. Oh... I gotta go dad. I have an O-Chem class in ten
minutes."

"Alright. I'll see you at seven. And, Hope..." He paused, reflecting fully on
the words as he spoke them. "I love you, sweetheart."

"Me too, dad. See ya." The line buzzed in his ear and he hung up. Looking
at the clock he shivered. Three more hours and he was out of here. 

                                     #####

Crunch. The noise was soft and usually unnoticeable. What made it so now
was the fact that the office was dead silent except for the soft clicking of
computer keys.

Crunch. Dana Scully looked up and peered over the rim of her reading
glasses at her partner. He was seated across from her, absorbed in a white
and red striped file. His hand up to his mouth, crunch, moving away now to
flick a moist husk at the wastepaper basket. Then like an automaton, he
moved to retrieve another seed from the baggie on his desk before
returning to his mouth. Crunch.

Scully wadded up a sheet of paper and tossed it, bouncing the projectile off
the top of his head rather nicely.

He looked up at her, startled. She answered him with a smug grin and set
back to typing up the notes from an autopsy she'd done this morning.
Crunch! 

That time was deliberately louder. How the hell do you manage to amplify
the sound of shelling a sunflower seed, Scully wondered.

A small chime sounded on her computer and she checked her e-mail.
Seeing the return address she smiled.

TO:D_SCULLY@FBI.GOV
FROM:BUSTERBUNNY@HYATTHOMES.COM 
SUBJECT: CIGAR TIME!

DANA. I'M A DADDY! THIS MORNING BROUGHT WITH IT FIVE
NEW MEMBERS OF THE FAMILY. BOTH MOTHER AND KIDS
ARE DOING FINE. MINDY AND I HAVE NAMED THEM GAMBIT,
WOLVIE, FOX, ROGUE AND DANA.

I WISH IT WERE SAFE. IN FIVE MONTHS I COULD THINK OF NO
ONE I'D RATHER ENTRUST THE KEEPING OF ONE OF MY
CHILDREN TO. IT SADDENS ME THAT IT CAN'T HAPPEN.

BAKER HAS ALREADY SHOT MORE PICTURES OF THE BROOD
THEN HE HAS OF *ME*. I THINK HE WAS MORE NERVOUS
THEN I WAS. HE'S CALLING THEM HIS GRANDKIDS ALREADY.
HUMANS.

LOVE AND LICKS, BUSTER

Dana felt tears well up in her eyes and quickly brushed them away. She was
deeply touched, not only by the fact that their friend had named two of his
offspring after herself and Mulder, even if it was intermixed with the names
of the X-Men, but that Buster would have trusted them with the welfare of
one of them.

She envisioned the five tiny bald and blind bundles of warm puppy. Not yet
conscious of how special they were. How soon before they would be
learning to read and spell? Before five months were out. She knew they
didn't choose a companion until they were capable of communicating. 

She felt a sudden pang of kinship. Not of their future companions, but of
Mindy, the puppies' mother. 

The biological clock had been ticking away, and over the past few months
she seemed to be more aware of it then she had been in the past. No more.
Shit. It had been over a month since her last course. This was supposed to
be almost impossible in her case. Something she found hard to believe
earlier this morning bent over her toilet while wretching over the smell of
the coffee brewing. 

Everywhere she looked there were mother's with babies. Little children
seemed to crawl out of the very woodwork. She'd told Mulder once that
she'd thought of motherhood. The truth was she had been thinking of it a
lot more lately. Especially since this past Saturday afternoon. Her mind
drifted back...

                                     #####

She'd forced herself to do it. She had to. Just to be sure. It was
improbable... but one had to eliminate all possibilities no matter how
improbable. Right?

She set the timer and headed for the kitchen to make some tea. Her trip
was interrupted by a knock at the door. Padding over in her sock covered
feet she had to get on tip toe to peer through the peep hole. She smiled and
undid the lock, holding open the door for her friend.

Jackie St. George held out a bag from a video rental store and a packet of
microwave popcorn. 

"I know Mulder's at his mom's this weekend, and since Marty isn't here
either I went and rented Braveheart, Mad Max, and Lethal Weapon 3."

Scully swept her hand in, allowing Jackie to walk past her, heading
purposely for the VCR. 

"You know how to make an evening, Jackie. Popcorn and Mel, what more
can a girl ask for?"

"Love, Commitment and a gassless burrito, but that's besides the point."
Jackie popped open one of the video boxes and inserted a movie while
Dana went into the kitchen to pop the popcorn.

>From the kitchen Scully could hear the video previews start blending with
the hum of the microwave fan and the popping of the popcorn. She could
barely make out Jackie saying something.

"What?" She called into the living room.

"I said your bathroom is ringing." 

Oh Shit! Scully raced out of the kitchen. "Jackie don't..."

Too late. Jackie stood in the bathroom doorway, stock still. There was no
missing it. It sat on the sink. An accusation and a dire portent.

"Ohmygod..."

Scully pushed past Jackie to look. A pink line glared accusingly at her.
Damn!

"Um... should I say Congratulations or I'm sorry?" Jackie asked from the
doorway.

Still somewhat stunned, Scully sat down on the lid of the toilet. "I... I'd
been hoping it was the flu."

"Yeah, one of those nine month bugs." Jackie crossed her arms before her,
unsure what to say or do. The indecisiveness was written all over her. "Did
you tell Mulder you suspected?"

Scully bowed her head into her hands, her hair veiling her face. "God no. I
have no idea how he's going to react to this. There's so many variables to
this equa... wait a minute... you know?" She looked up at Jackie, almost
accusingly.

"So... did you think I was blind or just plain stupid? Of course I knew. I
was waiting for you two to tell me, but after about six months I figured you
weren't going to. I'll admit I was pissed at being left out of the loop for a
while, but then I just sat back and enjoyed watching you two trying to
pretend nothing was going on. All Joe and Jane Cool. HA!" Jackie moved
to crouch before her friend. "Dana, you know if you need me for
anything... I'm here. Right?"

Scully gave a choked little laugh. "I'll remind you of that when it's time to
change diapers."

Jackie nodded. Understanding. "You're going through with it." Statement,
not question.

"Yeah. Yeah, I am. God, even though we were sure I couldn't conceive I
was on the pill. I never missed. I guess some things were just meant to be. I
can't... I can't even really grasp the thought of any other option. Yeah. I'm
going through with it. Jesus, what do I tell Mulder?"

"How about; what kind of tie would you like for father's day?" Jackie's
mouth turned up to a grin. 

Mission accomplished. Dana had laughed.

                                     #####

Snapping out of her reverie she turned her head to eye her partner, still
staring at the file (which she suspected was hiding a magazine) on his desk.
What kind of father would Mulder make? She smiled wistfully at the image
of a crying little boy running to her because his daddy took all his toy
trucks to play with. God, it would be like having TWO kids. But... what
kids! Any child of Mulder's would end up spoiled rotten, not only by their
father, but by virtue of the Mulder pout, and beguiling eyes. How the hell
was she supposed to tell him? Jackie's suggestion came to mind. Nope. 

"Earth to Scully." Mulder's voice brought her crashing back to the here and
now. He was looking at her bemusidly and she felt a blush. Nope, now was
NOT the time to bring up the whole situation. That was how she'd have to
think of it. "The Situation". But soon, she'd have to tell him, and hope he
didn't react too badly. 



Chapter 2 - Look here, look here and learn of fear.
-------------

"So what is it?" His question caught her off guard. 

"Hmm?"

He pointed to her laptop. "The e-mail I just heard chime in, the one that
has you all glassy-eyed and dreamy."

Scully grinned at that. Both an out, and an oportunity to tease him. "Buster
became a daddy today. Three male two female pups. Gambit, Wolvie, Fox,
Rogue and Dana." She almost laughed when he dropped his head to his
desk and covered it with his arms. 

"Buster has a SICK sense of humor. I wouldn't even wish my name on a
*stupid* dog, let alone one of Buster's brood."

Scully felt a smile tease her lips. Amused at how in certain, very intimate
situations, he didn't mind his name at all.

He uncovered his head and peered over at her. "So you were sitting there
wanting a new puppy?"

Scully shook her head. "Buster said he wished it were safe enough for us to
adopt one, but we all know the situation. Yeah... I would have been proud
to take care of one of them." She paused at Mulder's thoughtful look. "No
Mulder, I am NOT in the market for a new dog." 

He smiled slightly and pointed a finger at the wall clock. It was past five,
and they didn't have anything pending that day. Scully looked at him, then
at the report. She hit Save and unplugged the laptop. She could finish later.

                                     #####

Hope smiled at the waiter as she was escorted to her father's table. She sat
across from him and took a menu. She didn't open it, however, when she
saw her father's face.

"Dad? What is it?"

Hope felt something bump her leg. She looked down to see her father's
briefcase.

"Take this. Hide it. I don't want to know where."

Hope was getting alarmed now. "What's going on?"

"It's all been a sham. My work. There are printouts and physical proof in
there. They are grafting some unknown DNA strands to humans. I've never
seen anything like it before." Rob Jamison raised his glass of water to sip at
it. His hand was shaking.

Hope was shocked silent. Her father had never been given to hysterics in
any way. He was one of the most well grounded people she'd ever known.
Therefore, what he was saying, no matter how incredible it sounded, must
be true. Her father never lied to her. Ever. 

>>"Daddy, is mommy gonna be ok?" A small hand clutching at a frail one,
stroking the pale flesh of the sleeping woman. The woman who loved her
as much as if she were indeed the daughter of her flesh. 

The pained look on the man before her. The man she trusted more then
anyone on earth. Tears in his eyes. "No, honey. She's not. Mommy's going
to go away. In a month, maybe a few more... she's going to go to heaven."

Fear, amorphous, un-named. Of abandonment, of pain, of loss. "But I don't
want her to go. Why can't she stay with us?"

A hug, clutching, smothering. A need to cling to her, a mutual anchor. "I
don't want her to go either, baby. But there is a bad thing in her. A
sickness. It's called cancer. The doctors can't take it away. So she is going
to leave us. But we have to do all we can to make the time she has left with
us happy and full of love."

"Ok, Daddy." Still afraid, she allowed him to take her into the next room,
where he performed plays on the walls using the shadows his deft fingers
produced. >>

Tucking away the memory, which was preserved perfectly in her mind, she
looked at her father. He looked as frightened now as he had been then. No.
Her father never lied.

Thinking rapidly she touched the briefcase, perceiving a chill coming off it,
if only a psychological one. "Dad, does anyone know you took these?"

He looked across the table at her and for a moment didn't recognize her.
Realization snapped home and he nodded. "They have to by now. They
keep records. Lots of records. Probably of what information passes
through what computers."

The waiter arrived for drink orders. Hope could see her father needed
neither alcohol or caffeine in his current condition, so she ordered them
both Seven-Up. When the man left, she reached out to hold her father's
hand. 

"I can't say I understand this, but I trust you Dad. Look, come stay with me
in the dorm tonight. I'll send Karen to her boyfriend's. I don't think it's a
good idea for you to go home if they trace this to you."

Dr. Jamison shook his head. "I can't. I have to find a hotel somewhere.
They will expect me to stay with you if they do come after me."

"So why give me this?" She inclined her head to indicate the briefcase. 

"I want you to hide it. I don't even want to know where. God, what have I
gotten myself into?" 

Their drinks arrived. They sipped at them absently, lost in their own
thoughts, their own fears. The were not hungry now. Rob Jamison finally
spoke up.

"I'm going to go home, collect some things and find someplace safe to
spend the night. I'd feel better if you didn't keep that with you." He stood
and dropped a five on the table before pressing his lips, cool and dry, to
Hope's forehead. "I'll call you in the morning. I love you, honey."

"I know Dad." Hope felt tears spring to her eyes. "And you know, I love
you." She got up, herself, then hugged him fiercely. Clinging to him as she
had five years ago. Needing strength and being an anchor all at once.
Reluctantly they pulled apart. Dr. Jamison stroked his finger along the line
of his daughter's almost square jaw, a familiar sign of affection, then left
her standing at the table. They left the restaurant separately. 

                                     #####

Hope spent half her drive back to the university thinking of where she
could hide the briefcase. A flash of inspiration hit her and she pulled aside
to check the innocuous looking leather container. Opening it, she found her
father's usual notes, pens, computer disks, and a medical file on top of a
thick sheaf of papers speaking the indecipherable language of genetics. She
lifted the file and looked at the name and birth date on it. A small zip lock
type baggy was stapled to the top of it, and inside was a yellow plastic case
about the size of a pillbox. 

She knew that must be the materials used for the genetic testing. She
ripped the small baggy free of the file and tucked it down the front of her
sweater. It rested securely, if a bit uncomfortably, within her bra, chilling
the place over her heart until her body heat could warm it. She dug into her
purse for her wallet, and withdrew her student ID card as well as her
library and her courtesy card from the local food mart. Dropping them into
the briefcase she closed and locked it with the tiny brass key her father had
tied to the handle. Then she drove to the college administration building.

Hiding in plain site was by far one of the oldest, yet most effective forms of
concealment. She walked up to the 'Lost and Found' courtesy desk and
placed the briefcase on the counter.

"Excuse me." She smiled slightly at the girl behind the counter who looked
up from her book. "I found this near a park bench on campus. I'm sure the
owner will be looking for it."

The girl HAD to have been a Lit major, she just took the leather case and
placed it among two others and a pile of other odds and ends then returned
to her book without so much as a thank you. Her book was either
engrossing, or hard enough to get through as to demand her full attention.

Hope left the building feeling a bit better. All she'd have to do to retrieve
the briefcase was to return when another student was on shift, identify it,
open it, and show them her cards, matched to her driver's license, and
presto.. she'd have it back. But until then it was as hidden as she could
make it.

                                     #####

Scully stuck another forkful of chicken in her mouth and tried to ignore the
television as she struggled to conclude her report on her laptop. The
machine was currently perched on an old wooden coffee table stained with
enough rings to suggest it had been used as just that for too long. She,
herself, sat Indian-style on the floor, her behind starting to go to sleep. She
felt fingers begin to play with her hair and sighed as she leaned back a bit.

Mulder was laying on his couch watching Star Trek. The empty plate next
to her own had held his own dinner a few minutes before. She grinned and
popped another forkful into her mouth. Pan roasted chicken, with some
apple raisin sauce. She'd lucked out. They were eating together and it had
been Mulder's turn to cook. The small ritual had developed over the last
few months. 

She typed some more, distracted once more by the fingers twirling a lock
of her hair around and around, an unconscious action. Mulder had this
deep-seated need to touch. Not everyone; in fact he distanced himself from
most. But with her, even before they had become intimate, he was always
touching, invading her space. She'd recognized fairly early on that he was
so closed off that part of him cried out for physical contact, no matter how
innocent or innocuous. It kept him grounded, assured him that others were
there... that SHE was there. Oh sure, there was always the part of him she
suspected just liked to touch her. A year ago it would have been for the
small visceral thrill, the promise, the tease of it. Knowing it would never go
further than a hand on her back or elbow or a brush of an arm against hers.
Until it had gone further anyway.

But now? Now, she suspected, he still needed to reassure himself that she
was real, and here, with him. Plus, a thousand innocent little caresses and
strokes got to be an interesting form of foreplay.

Scully looked at the TV to see Capt. Picard dressing down Data for
violating the prime directive and she felt uncomfortably like she was
watching Skinner in pissed-off mode.

She managed to finish her summation and save the file for the last time
before turning the machine off for the night. She needed to talk to Mulder.
She HAD to tell him. Oh God, oh God, oh God... how was he going to
take this?

The fingers in her hair paused, then stopped, leaving her missing their
presence.

"Finished?" 

She leaned back so her head rested on the couch cushion and looked up at
him. "At least until I can print it out."

"So... what can we do to kill some time? Star Trek is off, there's nothing on
tonight..."

"Highlander is on." She pointed out and reached for the remote. Happy for
an excuse to procrastinate for a few minutes more.

"I am not gonna watch you sit here and drool over Adrian Paul." He
snatched the remote away.

"If I were over Adrian Paul I'd be too busy to drool. Gimme." She held out
her hand. 

Mulder clutched his hand over his heart and made a pained face. "You'd
leave me for a TV star who feels the compunction to film at least three
topless scenes a season? Why? It's the sword, isn't it?"

"Mulder, you are so insecure. I'd never drop you to run off with Adrian
Paul. I just want to borrow him for a few hours of mindless sex, then I'd
send him home to pine over me." That got her hit over the head with a
couch pillow.

"Good thing for me you're here and he's in Vancouver." He turned off the
TV and continued to hold the remote out of her reach.

She lunged for it. He hid it behind his back, she reached after it and found
herself neatly caught as his other arm wrapped around her and pulled her
up further on the couch and against him. 

"Let's just see if I can make you forget the shirtless wonderboy, shall we?"
He leaned down a bit to claim a kiss, soft and sweet and unhurried.

"Mmmm..." Scully was disappointed when he pulled back. "Adrian WHO?"
She arched a teasing eyebrow at him.

"It's a start." The next kiss wasn't quite so soft, or sweet, but it was
charged with enough passion to turn her bones to water. And enough to
wipe the thoughts of a deep, unwanted conversations out of her head.

                                     #####

Rob didn't aim for neatness. He tossed clothing in a bag with no attempt at
folding. Speed was his goal.

Grabbing the emergency money out of the small men's jewelry box Hope
had given him for Christmas one year, he gave no more pause. He
practically ran down the stairs. 

The weight slamming into his chest as his feet hit the bottom stair was
enough to send him to the floor, the wind knocked out of him.

Three men stepped from the shadows inside his house. He tried to pick
himself up, terror clawing at his gut.

"How nice of you to join us, Dr. Jamison. Going on an unexpected trip?"
The man who had hit him gave him a saccharine smile.

"Where are the file and the reports, Doctor?" The second man hauled him
to his feet by his shirt front and deposited him in a chair.

"What file?" Rob managed to stammer as air once more filled his lungs.

The third man stepped from the shadows. Darkness clung to him, except
for the glowing red tip of his cigarette. "Don't insult our intelligence, Dr.
Jamison. Just give us what we want and we can pretend none of this ever
happened."

"I... I don't know what you're talking about." Jamison looked into the pale
blue eyes of the last man and knew he was a dead man. Somehow he had to
keep Hope out of this, keep her safe.

A fist struck his jaw, pain exploded from the point of impact, amplified by
the force of his teeth slamming into one another. 

"He met with his kid tonight," one of the two thugs announced. 

The shadow man seemed to pale slightly, and his eye movement became a
touch more rapid. "He WHAT?"

"He went in to the restaurant with a briefcase, and left without it. We didn't
bother to follow the girl. We know where she can be found anyway," the
man who had hit him announced.

"No." Rob felt the protest leave his mouth without thought of forming the
denial.

The shadow man took a drag from his cigarette, his hand almost seemed to
tremble a bit, most likely with fury, Rob guessed.

"Doctor, let me make one thing clear. You have always been incidental.
Your life, your safety, your future has been assured only as a means to
provide for the girl. Your stupidity in the light of that fact amazes me. You
are a fool, Doctor. And I don't suffer fools. Not when this issue is at
stake."

Rob felt himself relax. He was going to die. He knew that was inevitable
now. He regretted leaving Hope alone, of leaving her with the burden he'd
placed on her. He looked at the shadow man as his words sunk in. What
had he said? Hope? Everything centered on Hope? Why? How? 

He felt a cool hardness press against the base of his skull. 

Hope. Keep Hope safe, God.

He neither felt nor heard the shot that ended his life.

Three men looked down at the lifeless body with apparent disinterest. The
first one to speak was the man who had used his fists. "We'll go get the
girl."

"Not yet." He bent over the body and removed the late Dr. Jamison's wallet
before standing again. The man tamped out his cigarette before turning to
leave. "First burn it. No evidence."

He left through the front door, aware that the two inside would take all the
necessary precautions. X

Hope dropped her purse on her bed and flopped in her desk chair. Her
mind spiraled over everything that had happened at the restaurant.

The phone rang, and hoping it was her father checking in, she snatched the
receiver up before it could ring twice.

"Yeah?"

"They know what you have. They'll be coming for you next. Get out. Find
someplace safe." The voice was slightly raspy as it spoke. The soft click
signaled the connection was terminated.

Hope looked at the phone with cold dread chilling her. There was no being
coy. Her father had been found out. But what would his employers do? She
remembered her father's fear in the restaurant, and grabbed her purse and
her weekender bag. Without pausing she ran out of the dorm and got in her
car.

Where could she go? Who did she know who could even begin to handle
this situation? Marc? No way, her boyfriend was an English major, he'd
never be able to handle this. The thought of an English major running
around playing hero and white knight while dodgeing God alone knew
what these people could throw at them... struck her as funny. Most likely a
fear reaction. Seeing humor now was NOT being productive.

A name sprang to mind and with the squeal of tires and a hasty prayer she
left the college behind her. 



Chapter 3 - Unutterable deeds of men does shout 
-------------

Unpredictability. He hated it, yet was forced to deal with it all the time. He
sat in his car, thinking of how to handle the situation. Things were falling
apart. Plans, long-held plans, were scattering like dry leaves in the wind.
The project had to come first. Evidence MUST be retrieved. Yet he could
not allow termination of the last piece.

So much work to keep certain truths buried. The only way he could think
of preserving that piece was to point it in the direction he least wanted it to
go.

New plans were formed. Discarded, reformed. Unpredictability. He hated
it, but he was good at dealing with it.

Final decision made, he opened his own laptop and set encrypting and
caltrop programs into action before doing something he had never
envisioned himself doing. Turning to someone else for help. Someone a
week ago he'd have done anything to prevent from becoming involved. He
knew what buttons to push, and hopefully how to control the situation he
was creating.

Affection was a dangerous liability in his position. He picked up the wallet
he'd taken from Jamison's body. Most of it didn't interest him. He carefully
slid a handful of pictures out of the wallet album. A little girl with pigtails
sitting in a inflatable pool. Was she nine or ten there? The same girl, a bit
older, holding a puppy. He knew the dog's name had been Chewbacca.
She'd received it as an anonymous birthday gift. The dog had died last year,
hit by a car. A high school graduation picture. So much younger then the
others in her class... He placed these in his inner jacket pocket, pausing at a
picture of the girl, head turned slightly away from the camera, looking off
to the side, smiling. The tilt of her head, the arch of her neck, the shadow's
angle all conspired to make her look so very much like Teena had been.
This picture he placed with the others after lingering over it.

He inhaled deeply, pulling the smoke into his lungs, trying to burn away his
own indecisiveness. Exhaling, he composed an e-mail. One he was sure
would pique certain interests...

                                     #####

Hope had the radio on out of habit. By the time the rain broke from the
pregnant clouds overhead, she was half way to her destination. The night's
darkness and smeared view of oncoming headlights made driving difficult,
even with the wipers on high.

When the story came on detailing a suspicious fatal fire in Olmstead Falls,
she barely took notice, until the announcer spoke the name Dr. Robert
Jamison. Hope swerved off the rode and looked at the glowing numbers of
her car radio. Numb.... she was going numb. Her father was dead. They'd
killed him. Whatever the hell was in that briefcase, they were willing to kill
for. To kill her father. The only person she had left in the world. Daddy. 

Hope felt the tears slide down her cheeks, but felt no wracking sobs. Only
a dull ache in her chest. A feeling of suffocation, and she realized her
breathing had sped up. She began to feel light headed and she fought for
control.

Focus. Focus on happy times. Think of the love. Her perfect memory
pulled out moments of her life, savoring them like pictures in an album. Her
father reading her Green Eggs and Ham when she was six. Her mom and
dad dressed as clowns to cater her eighth birthday party. Her father,
soothing her nightmares with shadow pictures on the wall. Her mother
making cookies and her father stealing one only to bite in and find it way
too hot. That wonderful trip to Disneyland. They were there, in her
memories. With her forever. They were with God now, and safe in Heaven,
far removed from this mess down here on earth. 

She gripped the steering wheel till her knuckles were bloodless, but she had
managed to calm her breathing. 

Pulling back into traffic, she set out to complete the journey she had
started. No matter what her final destination might be. She had to get her
father's discovery out, to people who would understand. She had to. For
Daddy. For revenge.

X 

105 Valentine Street 
Cleveland, Ohio

Eddie watched the TV in something akin to shock. The eleven o'clock
news was showing footage of the fire in a Cleveland suburb. Foul play
suspected. Dr. Robert Jamison dead. Even the rainstorms currently moving
across the area weren't helping put the blaze out.

He couldn't shake the queasy feeling that a cigarette might have started this
fire, and as far as he knew Dr. J didn't smoke.

The loud banging on his apartment door startled him for a moment.
Cautiously, he moved to the front door, his gun held without hesitation in
his left hand. He peered through the peep hole and nearly dropped the gun
in his hurry to get the door open.

Once the wood barrier was thrown open, he looked in the frightened eyes
of a very wet, and shivering Hope Jamison.

Shock, she was in shock, and it was pouring... what was he supposed to...
Oh yeah.

He pulled her inside and closed the door, then hurried to his small
bathroom. Fetching some towels, he draped one over her head.

"What happened?" 

After holding back the tears, the dam finally broke. Huge wrenching sobs
tore from her slender frame. Eddie was once again at a loss. He wanted to
hug this trembling, frail looking little girl, the need fueled by a paternal
urge she seemed to bring out in him. Pretty or not, she was still a kid,
young enough to be one of his own if he had had any.

He settled for guiding her to a chair with a hand on her shoulder.

She'd heard the news on the radio as she drove over here. She had come
about something her father gave her. He listened as she spilled all she
knew.

And he found himself believing it all. 

Somehow... in some way her search for her birth mother had started this.
Was the smoking man just taking advantage of a bad situation? What now?
Hope was seventeen, still legally under age, despite her college situation. 

Eddie ran his good hand over his face. He knew already that he wasn't
gonna back down. He wasn't gonna set this kid adrift in these
shark-infested waters. He'd never be able to live with himself.

"Ok, tonight you stay here." He rose and went to his bedroom, returning
with a sweat suit. "Go shower, use lots of hot water. Wear this while I run
your clothes through the dryer. We both need sleep. In the morning, we'll
figure out what to do next."

Hope almost wilted. Relief washed over her. She wasn't alone. She wasn't
sure why Mr. Kline was willing to help her, but she was too grateful to ask. 

The shower warmed her flesh enough to make her fingers and ears burn.
She hadn't realized how cold she had been until then. The sweat suit was
alright in the legs and arms, but she had to tie a knot in the waistband of
the pants to keep them up.

Shuffling out of the bathroom, she looked at Mr. Kline, pouring two cups
of steaming tea into mugs. He was as tall as she was, and he was wearing
flannel pajamas under a worn smoking jacket. His once brown hair was
liberally threaded with gray. Even though she knew he was in his early
fifties, his face and body, however, gave him the appearance of a man ten
or fifteen years younger. 

She watched him put the kettle back on the stove, and found herself
wondering what had happened to his hand. As if such a thing mattered.

"Warm now?" He asked her as he opened a package of fig bars.

"Yeah, I suppose. Mr. Kline, what are we gonna do?"

He gestured to one of the seats at the table. "First, you are gonna call me
Eddie. I think we just moved a bit beyond the client-employee angle. Next,
you are gonna eat something, and drink the tea. You probably haven't eaten
since lunch, have you?"

"I don't feel much like eating." She sipped at her tea.

"Eat a few fig bars and I'll make sure you eat eggs and bacon for breakfast.
You can't run on empty, kiddo. You don't have the body weight to spare.
Mancha, mancha."

Hope set down her mug. "Funny, Kline doesn't sound Italian."

"Mom's maiden name was Geonetti. Now eat, or will I have to make the
food choo-choo?"

Hope sighed, not rising to the bait, but complied. She didn't really taste the
cookies, and they sat uncomfortably in her stomach.

Kline shook his head. "I have a story to tell you. When you hired me...
someone tried to outbid your father, to try to get me to give you false
information."

Hope looked shocked. That was WEEKS ago. Her father hadn't even
gotten the tests yet.

"I sent them packing. But... Hope, I think part of this mess, SOMEHOW,
goes back to your birth parents. This guy seemed bound and determined to
keep you from tracking down your mother."

Hope gathered her wits quickly. "Then... first thing tomorrow I get the
briefcase back, then we head for Pennsylvania. That safety deposit box my
mom left me might hold some answers."

Eddie nodded. "That's what I thought." He inclined his head to the living
room. "I'll take the couch tonight. You can have the bed, no arguments.
There's enough of the old world chivalry in me that I insist."

Hope was too tired to put up a fight.

X 

Apartment 42 
Alexandria, VA 

Dana retrieved her blouse from the chair across the room and pulled it on.
It was eleven o'clock, and she had to get home. She pulled her hair back
into a ponytail to disguise its disarray and bent to pick up her laptop. She
wanted to get out of here. Tomorrow. She'd tell him tomorrow. What was
one more day? 

She felt Mulder's hand caress her back and looked at him, laying on the
couch wearing nothing but a blanket. Their eyes met, and volumes were
spoken.

>I wish you could stay.<

>So do I, stolen weekends are one thing, but we can't be too obvious.<

>I'll miss you.<

>And I you.<

Nothing said aloud; they each understood, could read it in the windows to
their souls.

"I'll see you tomorrow." She leaned in for one last, lingering kiss, then
slipped quietly from his apartment. Leaving behind only the scent of herself
on him, on the blanket, on the couch. 

Mulder closed his eyes with a groan. He hated this. Hated the secrecy, the
cloak-and-dagger shit, like they should be ashamed of themselves, of being
in love. Life was unfair, and this was just one of the millions of examples.

He didn't mention it in the office, but he knew what was bothering Scully.
Babies. A home, family, normalcy. Things that her choice to be with him
denied her. Hell, he'd thought of those things, too. Longed for them even.
The impossible dream. Maybe someday, when he found Samantha, he
could get out, retire. But now was NOT a good time. And knowing that
Scully wanted these things drove a knife of pain through his heart. Because
he didn't think he could give them to her. She'd have to leave to obtain
them. Their partnership, the X-Files, too many dangers for an expectant
mother, too many dangers for any kid of hers, let alone any kid he fathered.
He ran a hand over his face as visions of little red-headed girls calling him
Daddy slipped into his subconscious. Damn. 

What would he give for that? To see Dana and to know that their child
grew inside her? To hold a tiny infant that was a blend of them both? Part
of him wanted that dream so badly he could taste it. But the cost was too
great. He couldn't turn his back on Sam, on the Truth. The only way to
achieve that dream was to work with Dana to uncover the Truth. To blow
the whole mess into the open, to get the answers they both needed. In this
they would gain their own security. 

Mulder started to drift off to sleep, troubled dreams plaguing him.

A cradle sheltering a sleeping infant. Light, too bright, coming through a
window, falling on the child as it wailed. An empty cradle, a woman
sobbing. His baby, they took his baby. He felt himself running through a
house, though he couldn't really see anything but the occasional piece of
furniture. He needed to find something. Something he'd lost. Samantha. His
son. His daughter. Scully. He called out. 

A door opened and Scully stood there, weeping, holding out a small, empty
blanket. "Where is our baby?" Her voice accusing and filled with grief.

"I don't know." The answer seemed foolish. 

Then he caught a scent. Lilacs. It tugged at his mind, his memory. A soft
hand stoked his arm. A voice seemed to whisper words from far away. Too
far to make out what was said. He could make out 'help' and 'danger' but
the rest was lost as Scully began to scream. He looked at her. The blanket
she had held was covered in blood.

Mulder awoke with a start, his apartment dark. The VCR clock told him it
was 3am.

Knowing he would never get back to sleep now, he threw off the blanket
and started to get ready for work.

                                     #####

J. Edgar Hoover Building 
Washington, D.C.

Mulder unlocked the door and flipped on the light switch. The small office
smelled musty, and the odor of old coffee and sunflower seeds permeated
it.

Seating himself at his desk, he booted up his computer. He needed
something to do. Maybe scan for some unusual crimes on the database. He
saw his own e-mail icon blinking, so he clicked on it, prepared for a copy
of the note Dana had received from Buster yesterday.

It was not what he expected. Not at all...



Chapter 4 - For mankind to shed but a single tear. 
----------

It had been ridiculously easy. Retrieving the briefcase had been simple -- it,
and its contents, were intact. Eddie had insisted on stopping at a bank and
getting a cash advance on his credit card, as well as taking some money out
of his checking and savings account. He told her not to try and access hers.
They might be watching for such a move.

The drive from Cleveland to Scranton took eight hours. That was the worst
part. Impatiently willing the miles to pass. It seemed to take forever. Eddie
tried to make things easier on her by telling her some stories from his
childhood and his time with the police force. She was certain he was toning
it down, uncomfortable with the idea of swearing around her. As if she
couldn't match him cuss for cuss in a contest.

They stopped outside of the city and got two hotel rooms then headed for
the bank. Hope checked to make sure both keys were on the chain around
her neck. A safety deposit box key, and a small brass one were inside the
note her birth mother had left her. She knew she'd need them both now.

Both the bank and the safety deposit box were there. She claimed her
mother's name, signed the papers and went alone with the manager into the
back. They used both their keys and Hope was escorted, with the almost
weightless box, into a privacy room.

She took a deep breath when she was alone, and opened the metal
container. Inside was a small, intricately carved wooden box, no bigger
then a hardcover book. It had brass detailing and a brass lock.

Her eyes misted looking at the small, innocuous looking thing. This had
belonged to the woman who had given birth to her. This had been left as
her only legacy. 

She didn't open the second box, but took it with her, signaling the manager
that she was done, and returning her key, insisting she wouldn't be back.

Next stop was the public library. Eddie hoped to find some clue of her
mother's whereabouts in the backlogs of local papers. He saw she hadn't
opened the box, and didn't pressure her. For that she was grateful. On the
ride to the library she kept running her hands over the rough carvings.
Vines and leaves, her fingertips memorizing the patters. Her mother had
held this, had owned this, had left this for her.

She brought it with her into the library and sat at one of the long reading
tables while Eddie moved off to find what he needed. For the longest time,
she just looked at the box. Then she dug the letter out of her purse.
Yellowed with time, crumpled, stained with tears, both her own and her
birth mother's.

She held the worn and yellowing envelope in one hand while running her
fingers through her long, chestnut hair. She was seven when she had first
been handed the note by her parents. They had never made a secret of her
adoption. They had, in fact, reminded her often how much they loved her.
How she was CHOSEN, and thus wanted so much more. Momma couldn't
have children of her own. The reason was obvious in the end. The ovarian
cancer had taken her from Hope when she was just eight. But in those eight
years she had known nothing but love, comfort and pride from her mother. 

Before she died, Maria Jamison made sure Hope had the letter. It was a
letter from her birth mother. Passed along to be disposed of at her adoptive
parents discretion.

She opened it once more and read the inked lines,

"Dear baby,

As I write this I don't know if you are going to be a boy or a girl. It doesn't
matter. I want you to know that I love you. I love you enough to give you
up. To give you a better life then you could have with me. But I write this,
in case you ever want to know me. To know who I was, and why I gave
you up.

I am seventeen. That in itself is a problem. I didn't plan on being a mother.
It was an accident. Your father doesn't know. I wasn't given the chance to
tell him, and if I was I am not sure I'd have worked up the nerve. My family
isn't very supportive. They have sent me away, to stay with my aunt until
you are born. If I had told your father... I know he would have done right
by us both. But my parents were scandalized. Not only by me being
pregnant at seventeen, but that your father isn't, shall we say, a white,
anglo saxon, Catholic. He was my parents second worst nightmare, and
they were adamant. It was either this, or be tossed out with no support or
future. Your daddy doesn't have a job either. Heck, he's just a year older
them me. However while his past is shadowed, his future looks bright. I
don't think I'd have the courage to ruin that future by breaking this little
surprise on him.

So... I'm sitting here in my temporary bedroom, writing this letter for eyes
that may never see it. Loving a baby that will most likely never know me...
and only regretting that I am not well enough off to keep you.

If you are reading this, then your new family... your REAL family thought
it best you know of me. I have made provisions for this as well. 

In Scranton Pennsylvania the First Federal Bank on Main street is holding a
safety deposit box in my name. I paid enough on it (cashing in some
Bonds) to keep it in trust till January 1, 2000. Inside is a box. In the box is
me. You. Who you are. Some pictures, some trinkets, and a very special
bracelet. Your daddy gave it to me, and gifted me with each piece at
different moments in our short time together. There is also a journal of
mine. Not very good reading in general. But it will let you know me some
more. If you look for me, and I am still around... I won't turn you away. I'd
like to know how you turned out.

With love, Connie McKenzie"

Hope folded the letter back up. She felt small and alone. She was just
seventeen herself. What must her mother have felt like? So alone, so lost.

She ran her long fingers through her tousled chestnut hair and looked out
the library window. It was raining again. Somehow it seemed fitting.

When she looked away from the window she gasped at the sight of the man
who had seated himself across the table from her. He was tall, and old. At
least sixty. Thin and worn. She was startled as much by his presence as by
the fact that she recognized him. She's seen him at a distance at her
mother's funeral.

"Who are you?" Her question without curtesy, seeing as he displayed none
by seating himself with her.

"An old friend of the family's." He lit a cigarette, ignoring the "NO
SMOKING" signs around the library, and leaned back, examining her.
Hope felt like a show dog. Was he going to ask her to roll over and play
dead next? "You turned out well, Hope. Better then even I could plan."

"What are you talking about? I don't know you. I remember seeing you
before, but you were never introduced to me. And what do you mean you
could PLAN?" This man scared her for some reason.

"If I were you I would seriously reconsider opening that Pandora's Box in
front of you." He let out a puff of smoke, it's scent cloying the air before
her, its presence casting a haze around them both. "Some things are better
left unknown. You have a bright future Hope. Full scholarships and the
first year of pre-med under your belt. Impressive for a girl your age. You
graduated High School at fifteen didn't you? With a truly impressive SAT
score. 1600? Only 517 perfect scores nationally in your entire graduating
year. You have everything ahead of you. Don't ruin your life chasing
shadows. That's one family curse you have the choice to avoid."

Hope felt her bones chill. How did this man know so much about her. Then
she remembered Eddie's description of the man who tried to buy him out,
and her anger rose.

"What happened to your father is a pity. But it won't touch you. I can
promise you that. But only if you leave the past behind you and move on."
He drew on the cigarette again.

Hope shivered despite herself. "How do you know that? How do you know
anything?"

"I know when you were six you ran away, because your parents couldn't
afford to take you to Disneyland and you wanted to go so badly you had
cried for a week. You didn't get far."

Hope remembered that. She remembered almost everything. She had an
excellent memory, bordering on phenomenal. The next week her father
won a trip to Disneyland from a raffle he didn't recall entering. The
vacation had been everything she had dreamed. The last one they had
shared with her mother.

"When you were twelve you and Erica Kent went exploring an abandoned
mine shaft and got lost. It took two days for... someone to find you both.
You've been claustrophobic ever since."

The dark had been cloying after the borrowed flashlights went out. Both
girls had panicked. There were too many passages. The two days until a
stranger found them had seemed an eternity in hell. Thirst and hunger
gnawed at them, they were both so cold their teeth chattering was a
constant noise in the silence of the mine shafts. The man who found them
gave them water and led them to safety. The mine had been too dark to see
his face, but Hope would always be grateful to that stranger. He had been
part of a team of searchers called out when their parents reported them
missing. But he had disappeared without thanks. There was something
about his voice in the darkness... something niggling at her mind.

>>"Hope? Calm down. You are a strong girl. Take a deep breath. Feel
that? Plenty of air. I'll get you out. I'll always get you out." A strong hand
on her trembling shoulder. A smell... the scent almost lost in the mustiness,
the stink of dirt and coal.>>

"Who are you?" She asked again. Her fear rising as he displayed
knowledge of her life.

"Let's just say... I have vested interest in your family." He tapped the
wooden box before her. "Leave this alone. It will only bring you trouble.
More trouble then what your father gave you." 

Hope gasped and looked sharply at the man. He knew. He knew about the
papers. 

Her eyes narrowed and her determination renewed in a surge of anger at
this stranger. "Pandora's Box, you called it. When all the bad things flew
out, when all the fear and pain was released there was one thing left in
Pandora's Box wasn't there?" She looked at the old man, her head tilted
sideways.

There was a trace of a smile on his face. A tiny spark of approval in his
eyes, almost... pride, quickly smothered.

"Hope." She finished. "Hope remained. It's my name. In here is myself.
Under any pain or torment the rest will give me, I'll find myself. I'll find
Hope."

"Your birth mother died in 1990. Beat to death by her proper CATHOLIC
husband. He met an... unfortunate end in prison a few months later. She
married him to please her parents." He looked out the window, looking
somehow older. "I know you have a private detective searching for her. He
will confirm this shortly. Please, just let it rest. Let her rest. The truth will
not set you free. It will bind you. You are free now. As innocent and
untouched as I could make you." He looked back at her. He didn't look so
frightening now. Just sad, and lonely.

Hope felt numb. If this was the truth... then she would never know her
mother. Never know how her birth family tied to her father's death. Unless
the answers were inside the box. What did he mean by her being as
innocent as he could make her? Who was he? She knew direct questions
were not going to give her the answers she wanted.

Someone dropped a heavy book off to her right and she instinctively turned
to the noise. Looking back, the stranger was gone, leaving behind a
lingering scent of cigarettes.

Hope frowned, took hold of her tiny brass key and unhesitatingly opened
Pandora's Box. She could have sworn she smelled the scent of lilacs over
the smoke when she opened it. She pulled out the leather bound journal
and a silver charm bracelet.

The bracelet held many sparkling charms. All silver. A globe, a rose, a
mickey mouse, a Crucifix, the Star Of David seemed out of place beside it,
a coin with staggered letters so that when it spun it read "I (heart) you", a
miniature class ring, a kachina. All forming an odd mish mosh of trinkets.
With a smile she put the bracelet on, feeling somehow connected to the
woman who gave her life through that small action. 

Then she pulled out the pictures. Most were of a beautiful woman, with
hair the color of Hope's, with Hope's nose and chin, smiling. Happy. In
some there was a boy, about the same age. Both wore their hair in the
dorky style of the late seventies, early eighties. His was a little long. Hope
immediately knew that this almost amazingly handsome boy was her father.
Way to go MOM. His eyes... they were hers, and his lips... well hers were
more feminine but... yes her jaw was squared as well, but softer. She could
see parts of herself in the two kids. Especially in his eyes. It was hard to see
in the faded polaroids, but she somehow knew they were hazel, like hers.
One picture was taken to the backdrop of some sort of carnival. In the
background was part of a banner. "LMARK HOMECOMING
CARNIVAL" was visible.

Picking up the journal she opened the cover to see two papers folded
neatly in the front. With trembling fingers she opened them.

The first was a birth certificate from a hospital here in Scranton, PA. Baby
Girl McKenzie. Mother -Connie Anne McKenzie. Father - Fox William
Mulder. Born February 10th, 1979. With that was a copy of adoption
papers. Signed by her mother.

It was a start. If the old, smoking man had told the truth, and her mother
was dead... that left one place to look. One place to search for the reason
her adoptive father had been killed, and what her birth family had to do
with it.

"Fox William Mulder." She whispered the name aloud. Her mother's letter
told her he'd never known about her. What the hell was she going to say if
she found him? Congratulations... it's a girl? Was he old enough for a heart
attack?

Hope felt something strange. Fear and anticipation all rolled up with the
desire to learn more. What her father had been working on... what kind of
people her birth parents were, and who the mysterious smoking man was
that he knew so much about her.

Eddie approached her a few hours later, just before the library was ready to
close. She'd been engrossed by her mother's journal until he sat beside her.
He looked grim.

Hope's fears about the smoking man's words, were confirmed. "I know."
She startled Eddie by speaking the words softly, then telling him about her
visitor.

"Why the hell didn't you come and get me at once?"

Hope shrugged. "He was gone, it wouldn't have done any good. He didn't
hurt me. This is a public place." She shoved the papers she'd found in her
mother's journal at Eddie. "On to stage two. Let's see if this guy is still
around."

Eddie Kline looked at the papers and shook his head with amazement.
"With a name like that he can't be too hard to trace."



Chapter 5 - Past and present coalesce. 
-------------

Scully eyed her orange juice dubiously. It wouldn't have bothered her if she
hadn't just spent ten minutes in the bathroom cursing Mulder's name and
fathoming the mysteries of modern plumbing. But she needed to drink the
juice to take her pre-natal vitamin pill. Or as Jackie had called it, the 'horse
pill'.

They hadn't watched the movies Saturday afternoon. Instead Jackie had
driven Dana to the office of an OB/GYN Scully had gone to school with
and trusted to a reasonable degree. She had to wait two hours, but she got
squeezed in. Jackie had stayed in the waiting room, no doubt feeling almost
as uncomfortable as Dana had felt talking to Dr. Megan Carson. 

When Dana came back into the waiting room, Jackie hadn't said a word,
just walked with her back out to the car. Only once they were inside the
vehicle, closed off from the world, did Dana receive the 'tell me or die'
look.

"I'm about two months along. It's definite. No faulty tests for me." Scully
held up a piece of prescription paper. "And I have to start taking pre-natal
vitamins."

"Oh fun, just trade one morning pill for another." Jackie had said until she
SAW the pills. "What are these? Horse Pills? How are you supposed to
swallow that?"

"With water." Dana shrugged, not really knowing how she could down the
giant elongated tablets when she was so nauseous in the morning.

So here she stood, contemplating her orange juice and horse pill as
Socrates must have contemplated that last fatal draught. She grimaced and
did the only thing she could do. Downed the pill and juice, bravely trying
not to gag as she did it.

She had managed to calm her stomach and had started getting dressed for
work when the phone rang. She picked it up while shrugging on her suit
jacket.

"Didja tell him?" 

Scully sighed. Jackie. The voice of her conscience. 

"No. Not yet. The right opportunity didn't come up."

"Dana. It isn't going to. You can't wait around until he suggests you join
Jenny Craig. Look, you've stood tall in the face of aliens, ghosts and
psychos, not to mention ME, you can tell Mulder. Worst case... he'll pass
out and you won't be able to drag him anywhere."

"That's hardly the worst case," Scully mumbled into the phone.

"What? What do you think he's gonna do? Yeah, you're gonna talk, but he
isn't about to ask you to do anything you don't want to. You know that. He
might be upset for a while, but he'll get over it. He's great with kids. Now
listen to me. You are NOT to go to bed tonight without telling him. That's
an order." 

                                     #####

Dana wasn't surprised to see Mulder already in the office and working on
something. But what was he working on? Yesterday they had nothing
pending. She'd hoped to have tonight free. She couldn't keep putting this
off. Not with Jackie riding her back.

"Morning." He didn't even look up from his computer as she poured herself
some coffee. She savored the taste. One more Mulder advantage, he made
coffee any navy brat could appreciate. The spoon could practically stand up
on its own in it. She smiled slightly. Her father once said 'if it doesn't start
to eat away the enamel on your teeth, it's too weak.' Good thing the
saltines this morning had worked their magic. No more nausea for today at
least. Hopefully. Unless, of course, this coffee set her off...

"So what has you so engrossed this morning? Find a new adult website?"

Mulder handed her a FAX copy of a morning edition article from an Ohio
paper. A suspicious fire last night. A dead doctor. She looked at him
curiously. "And?"

"This was waiting for me when I got in this morning." Scully moved
around the desk to stand behind him. There was a scanned picture of a
young woman on the screen. "According to the e-mail I received this
information in her name is Hope Jamison, the daughter of the dead doctor.
Her late father was a geneticist for DelMark Labs. She is supposedly in
possession of some sensitive documents her father acquired. Documents
dealing with unknown genetic factors."

He looked up to see he'd at least gotten her attention. "Whoever sent me
this thinks this girl is in danger. The people who killed her father want
those documents. I've made some calls."

He held up some more papers. "Hope Jamison is seventeen, and already in
her second year of pre-med at St. John's College. According to her
roommate she disappeared last night and the police are beginning to
suspect she might have something to do with her father's death."

"What makes you think she doesn't, Mulder? This could just be one more
set up."

He smiled slightly. "Call it a hunch." He looked at the picture again. He
wasn't about to tell Scully part of the reason he wanted to look into this
was the girl's resemblance to how he'd imagined Samantha might look at
that age.

"302 filled out?" she asked, crossing her arms. 

"And approved ten minutes ago. Grab your bags Scully, we're headed for
Cleveland."

She rolled her eyes. "Oh, joy."

                                     #####

Hope leaned over Eddie's shoulder. He was running an interesting program
on his laptop. It was scrolling through what appeared to be thousands of
names.

"What's it doing?" she asked sitting down next to him at the table and
poking an accusing finger at a left over french fry from Mickey D's left on
the table from their late lunch.

"Searching the phone directories of the US. Our luck sucks, kiddo. Not a
single Fox Mulder listed, yet hundreds of thousands of F. Mulders, and
none of those F. Mulder's listed in Chilmark, Massachusetts." Kline sighed
as he sat back and considered his options. "Hmmm... Let's see if this guy
has a criminal record shall we?"

"Do I want to know if he does?" Hope dug through her overnight bag and
pulled out the flattened, matted teddy bear she slept with. She looked up to
see Eddie's eyes dancing as she tucked the misfit from a rag bag under her
arm.

"Not one word, Kline. Not one. Mr. Pookie was the last birthday gift I got
from my Mom." She waggled a finger at him.

She had to give him credit. He tried not to laugh. Even succeeded for
about forty seconds. She let him. His laughter filled the room with a warm
sound. It wasn't accusatory, or really demeaning. Not like some of the stuff
she'd heard when she first arrived at college. 

She just shook her head and smiled. "So, as I asked, do I wanna know if he
does?"

"Hell yes." Eddie managed to get a hold of himself. Glad she didn't seem to
take any offense at his laughter. But please... Mr. Pookie? "Maybe a
criminal records our answer. If he's got mob ties or something maybe
someone traced you."

Hope nodded and turned to her bed. They had two rooms, but Eddie was
currently working from hers. He claimed she was neater. She wouldn't have
minded sharing a room with Eddie. She felt safe with Eddie. He wasn't a
perv, or a sicko. He reminded her of a favorite uncle, or a much older
brother. However, he insisted they each have their own hotel rooms.

Clicking on the tv, she sat Indian-style with Mr. Pookie in her lap. She
channel surfed until she came across a Brad Pitt movie. One she hadn't seen
before with Juliett Lewis.

Two different chimes went off on Kline's computer.

"We have something," he muttered as he scrolled through whatever was on
his screen.

"What?" Hope got up to stand at Kline's elbow once more. 

"One Mulder still listed in Chilmark. Not F. but T. at 2790 Vine Street."
Eddie clicked on an icon at the bottom of his screen. "And one Fox W.
Mulder arrested by the military in 1993 for trespassing on the grounds of a
military operation. Records still there but no official charges posted.
Hmmm... Looky here. This particular Fox Mulder works for the Feds.
Probably why no charges were filed, but there was an official complaint
lodged."

"Do you have an address? Phone number? Anything?" Hope felt a
fluttering in her stomach. This could be it. 

"Yup. Alexandria, Virginia." He smiled a lopsided grin. "I'll arrange a
wake-up call for six in the morning."

Hope nodded solemnly. "What are we going to do when we get there? Just
knock on his door? I mean, I'm not exactly what you'd call a wonderful
surprise. I'm not some cute little cuddly baby. And if he isn't the reason this
smokestack guy is watching me, then I could be bringing him a lot more
trouble then this is worth."

Eddie shook his head and removed his reading glasses. "Hope, it isn't easy
in any of these situations. Meeting birth parents, I mean. I tried to warn
you about that when you hired me. It isn't some fairy tale
everything's-alright-now solution to your problems. Sometimes it adds to
them. But look, I'll do my research on this guy. Do a little computer
digging in DC. Maybe follow him around a little, see what he's like. I don't
want to get you any more messed up with that smokestack character than
you are. For all we know, this Mulder guy could be working with or for
him. Just cause he's a cop doesn't mean he's clean. I knew a couple of cops
on the take when I was on the force. They're worse than the regular
criminals."

Hope nodded solemnly. She picked up Eddie's notepad and scanned his
neat handwriting. 

"Eddie, do you think you could do me one more favor?"

                                     #####

When the car stopped, Hope unbuckled and looked at Eddie. "You
coming?"

"Nope. This is something you gotta do alone, kid. It's private. I'll be right
here when you're done. I got a book, so take as long as you want. I mean
that." He set a battered-looking Dean Koontz book on the steering wheel
and started to read.

Hope slipped silently out of the car, her fingers wrapped tightly around the
stems of the bouquet in her hand. She wasn't fooled. She could feel Eddie
watching her as she walked between the neat rows of stone markers. 

She let her eyes fall on the names of strangers to her left and right, until she
found the one she was looking for. Connie Anne Daugherty. Beloved
Daughter and Wife.

Hope felt the bitter laugh escape her. Hypocrisy marked for eternity in
stone. If her parents had really considered her beloved, she wouldn't have
been sent away, some horrible family secret. As for wife... her bastard
husband put her here.

Hope sat down before the smallish gravestone and placed the bouquet of
spring flowers in front of it.

"I'm sorry, Mom. I started looking too late. I missed you by seven years. It
seems unfair to me. All that you went through. I wish I could have known
you. Met you just once." Hope absently wiped the tears from her eyes.

"The folks who adopted me were great, Mom. You probably know that
though. I bet you've been looking down every once in a while, watching
me. It might explain all the good things that have happened to me for most
of my life. Anyway, the Jamisons... you would have been thrilled with
them. I never once felt unloved or unwanted. They were all that good
parents should be, and then some. They're both with you now. Please take
care of Dad. He gets frustrated pretty easy." Hope sniffed, wiping away
more tears. "I'm feeling pretty alone now, Mom. I feel closer to you
somehow because of that. I feel I can understand just a little of what you
went through. I'm... I'm gonna be fine. I promise I'll do what I can to
straighten this mess out. I want to get back to my normal life."

Hope felt herself laughing through the tears. "But I can't, can I? There is no
going back, just going on. I miss Dad so much... I feel so... enraged... this
need to make the people who did this pay is so strong."

Hope looked down and saw a rock poking through the well tended grass of
the cemetery. She dug it lose. Looking from the rock in her hand to the
marker, she smiled. She didn't give a damn if it was illegal.

An hour later, her finger scraped and sore, a kink in her back and an ache
in her shoulders, Hope sat back to view her handiwork. Some might
consider it defacement. She considered it the truth. More of a Truth than
the lie it had been before. 

Connie Anne Daugherty. Beloved Daughter and Wife. Carved with the
neat precision of some anonymous mason. And Mother. It was crude, and
no where near as deep as the other words. But it was there. 

As Hope stood up, she felt a breeze caress her face and ruffle her hair. It
carried on it the scent of lilacs. Hope smiled. Then shook her head at her
own whimsy. Lilacs were out of season.

She ran her hand over the cold granite before returning to the car, and the
patiently waiting Eddie Kline.



Chapter 6 - Single minded passions run
-------------

The plane was far from full. Scully was glad; it gave them some breathing
space. No one was seated ahead of them, and there was an elderly woman
engrossed in a book behind them. She looked at Mulder as he poured over
the latest report of the scene of the fire in Olmsted Falls. He was pinching
his bottom lip between his thumb and forefinger, lost in thought.

"Mulder," she leaned into him.

"Hmmm?" He turned a page.

She reached over to close the folder. This was the best time she could think
of. They were airborne. Where was he going to go? He'd have to sit here
and talk to her. It was underhanded, but she was nervous enough as it was.

He looked at her curiously as she pulled the file from his hand.

"What do you think of children?" she hedged.

"They're short versions of adults." He grinned, then seeing her annoyed
expression, he sighed. "I like kids. Are you propositioning me?"

"Back in Home, Pennsylvania, you mentioned you'd thought of having a
family. Do you still want that?" She tilted her head to the side.

"Yeah, I'd like to have a family some day, Scully. But if we can't, that's ok,
too. It doesn't mean I want a family now."

Scully didn't know if she wanted to laugh or cry. He had said 'if we can't...',
which meant he thought of his future only with her. That made her heart
want to swell out of her chest. But he didn't want a family now.

"Mulder," she tucked her chin in and looked at her hands, the fingers laced
over the file she'd taken from him as it lay in her lap, "I'm pregnant."

Her heart pummeled to her toes when she heard the muffled "Damn." 

She willed the tears not to come. She wouldn't allow it. She would NOT be
weak. She felt one slide down her cheek anyway. Hormones, she reasoned.
They were going to be out of whack for a while now. She might as well get
used to it.

"Are you sure?" Mulder took her hand. His palm was warm and dry over
her skin.

"Yeah, I'm sure. I took the home test, then Jackie took me to a doctor I'd
gone to school with. Two months, Mulder. I think that would make it-
Buffalo."

"Jackie? You told Jackie about this, and didn't tell me?" He sounded hurt. 

She finally looked up and met his eyes. "Not intentionally. She was there
when I took the home test. She found out by accident. She's also been
hounding me to tell you. Besides, that doesn't matter. Mulder, this might be
my only chance. We both know that. If... if you don't want this... I won't
name you as the father. I won't ask for help or..."

She flinched, his face had gone from hurt to angry in a split second. She'd
never seen him aim that anger at her before. "How could you even THINK
that? What? You think you're going to slip out of my life, take my child and
I'm going to pretend nothing happened?"

"No! No... I just... I didn't want you to feel trapped. I WANT you with me.
God, I want you to be acknowledged as the father. I want you to help me
through this. But I don't want to force you to. Never that. I want it to be
your choice. Oh God, I'm really screwing this up."

Mulder closed his eyes and leaned his head back in his seat. His hand
remained laced with hers. A gentle reassurance. 

"Mulder?"

"The timing sucks, Scully. This isn't going to be easy for either of us. I
don't want... I don't want our child to become some sort of pawn. We're
going to have to figure out a way to keep him or her safe."

She smiled then. She saw her smile reflected in his eyes. He was going to
be all right. This was going to work. It had to. She would allow no other
outcome.

"The Bureau..."

He tugged her hand up to his lips and kissed her knuckles. "Can go to Hell.
Marry me, Scully."

She was shocked silent. She pulled her hand away and shook her head.
"No."

His jaw dropped. "Why?"

"I don't want you marrying me because you HAVE to. Just because I'm
pregnant. I don't want that kind of marriage." She looked out the plane
window, not wanting to see the hurt in his eyes.

She felt him shift in his seat. Looking back, she saw he was standing in the
aisle reaching into the overhead compartment. He was rummaging through
the zippers of his carry-on.

"Mulder, what are you..."

He snapped the compartment shut and sat back down beside her. He held
out his hand. In his palm was a small velvet box. A ring box. 

"Mulder..."

"Open it," he insisted. 

She took it and opened the lid with a shaking hand. Inside was a ring. A
marquise cut emerald flanked on either side with small triangle diamonds. 

"I've had it since BEFORE Buffalo. I just... was waiting for the perfect
time to give it to you. I don't want to marry you just because you're
pregnant." 

She looked at him again. His face was closed, as if he was afraid to hope.
"I want to marry you because I love you. So... one more time... Marry me,
Scully."

She took his hand and placed the open ring box back in his palm. She saw
his face fall and smiled.

"I think you are supposed to put that on me now." 

His smile was worth it. 

                                     #####

They'd stopped at a pizza place for dinner. This area was famous for its
pizza, Eddie had insisted, so he introduced her to something called Old
Forge style pizza. It was basic square sicilian with an odd combination of
cheeses. Not too bad.

Pulling into their parking spot at the hotel, Hope dug the briefcase out from
under her seat. She wouldn't go anywhere without it anymore. Not until
she found someone who knew what to do with it.

She said good night to Eddie and headed for her room.

She reached for the door when she heard him shout for her.

"Kid. Hold it."

Looking over at him, she saw him motion her back with his bad hand. She
did as instructed, automatically clutching the briefcase in front of her.

She moved back to stand by the car and watched as Eddie pulled his gun
and pushed his door open. It wasn't locked. She knew, however, that he'd
locked it before they left. He half-crouched as he swept the room with his
gun, then stepped back until he was even with her.

"Place is a mess. I guess housecleaning didn't like my tip, eh?" He touched
her shoulder lightly then handed her his car keys. "Get in the car, and be
ready to peel outta here if I say. I'll get our things."

Hope nodded and followed orders. 

>From the driver's seat she watched Eddie make a similar sweep of her
room. She could see the mess through the door. The room had been
trashed. Someone knew where they were. Someone had been looking for
the briefcase. Most likely the same someone she'd seen in the library this
afternoon.

Eddie came back to the car with her weekender bag. He tossed it in at her.
"I'll get my things. We're outta here. Watch it, kiddo. I think Mr. Pookie's
gonna need a patch job. Someone doesn't like stuffed animals."

He left her to rummage through her crumpled things as he went back to his
room.

Some asshole had stabbed her teddy bear and pulled out some of his
stuffing. Bastards. What did they think she was gonna hide in there? Her
hand flew to her chest, fingers probing and feeling the lump in her bra. The
sample case. 

Eddie came back and she scooted over to the passenger seat. His luggage
was just as rumpled.

"You drive. I'll get in back and try to sort this mess." She sighed as she
hopped over the back of the seat.

"I'm gonna hit the turnpike. Get us to Washington tonight instead of
tomorrow. More people there. Maybe it'll be easier for us to get lost," he
said over his shoulder as they pulled out.

Or get swallowed up. Hope kept this disquieting thought to herself as she
refolded her underwear. She wouldn't be able to stomach wearing any of
these clothes until they were washed. The thought of some slimeball
pawing through her clothing made her want to puke.

She put her things in order again and set to work on Eddie's. She giggled.
Boxers with little hearts on them?

"Hey, hey! Keep the personal comments to the minimum, little Miss Priss. I
didn't expect you to be goin' through my drawers. Least I left the
Superman Underoos at home." He winked at her in the rear view mirror. 

Eddie wasn't as lighthearted as he was trying to appear. The fact that their
rooms had been searched cramped his gut. They could have a tail right
now. The people looking for the files Hope had were not playing games.
They'd killed Dr. J so far. The only thing keeping Hope alive, he figured,
was the fact that they had kept the files with them. Safe, so far. From here
on out, Hope was going to stay either well holed up or out in complete
public. 

He looked in the rear view mirror once again st see her wielding a small
sewing kit. Her long fingers deftly repairing her stuffed bear. 

"Your first patient, huh?" He saw her meet his eyes and was struck by the
determination there. They were not really the eyes of the kid he named her.

"My first transplant." She replaced the kit in her gym bag and zipped it up
before climbing back over the seat into the passenger side. She buckled up
and held the ragged looking teddy in her lap. "Remember something,
Eddie. Mr. Pookie has always been good at keeping my secrets." She
flashed him a smile then turned her eyes back to the road. The turnpike toll
booth was just ahead.

                                     #####

Cross cursed under his breath and waited for the man to answer the phone.
On the third ring he heard the line get picked up.

"It's me. I lost the girl. She wasn't in school at all today. The cops are
linking her as a suspect in the good doctor's death. No luck finding the
briefcase either. I did find that her father had hired a PI to try and locate
the kid's birth parents. Guess what... the PI is also missing."

"She's in Pennsylvania, heading for DC. Mr. Cross, maintaining the position
of the project is the main concern here. I want the files retrieved, but I do
not want the girl harmed. Do I make myself clear? She cannot understand
what is in those files. She is a security risk only as long as those files remain
unsecured. Use your own discretion with the man, however."

Cross cracked his knuckles. He didn't understand what was up. But he
knew questions were not tolerated. The man had no compunctions against
allowing Cross to eliminate the doctor. Why worry about some
too-full-of-herself kid? 

"Yeah. I understand. Only worry about the file. Got it."

"Good. You should hurry. DC is a big place." Cross could here him exhale
smoke, could almost smell it over the line.

"I'm on my way." Cross cut the connection and headed his car towards
Washington DC.



Chapter 7 - till bowed they angrily acquiesce
-------------

Ok. Scully had had enough. She squirmed in the passenger seat of the
rental car for the last time before turning her full angry glare on her partner. 

"Will you STOP that?" 

Mulder quickly pulled his eyes off of her, realizing he'd been caught.
"What?" he asked, all innocence.

"That. That... sidelong glances. That constant almost staring. An alien is
not about to suddenly erupt from my rib cage. I did not suddenly develop
horns. My hair did not turn green. It's me. The same me I was yesterday.
The same me I was a week ago. The same me I was a year ago. So stop
fucking staring at me and put your eyes on the goddamn ROAD!"

Mulder straightened in his seat. He muttered something under his breath.

"Excuse me?" Scully crossed her arms and glared.

"I said HORMONES. Jesus, Scully, believe it or not you are not the same
Scully you were a year ago. You're pregnant. We're pregnant. You're
carrying my baby inside of you. I don't know. It feels weird. But it also
feels kinda good, you know. And I guess I just see you differently now."
His grip tightened on the steering wheel.

She arched an eyebrow. "WE'RE pregnant? Please feel free to tell me when
you experience you first bout of morning sickness. This I'd like to see."

"That's not what I meant...." He suddenly looked at her. "You've been sick?
You didn't tell me?"

She rolled her eyes. "Mulder I'm two months along. What do you think
clued me in? And believe it or not, having long discussions with you over
my regurgitative techniques is not high on my to do list. Yes, I have been
having morning sickness. It passes. I move on. What do you mean you see
me differently?" She stared hard at him, daring him to come up with the
right answer to that one.

He shrugged. "Just different. You've always been this strong, independent
figure. I don't know, maybe I have this goddess complex or something. I
mean, I was always very aware of you as a woman... don't get me wrong,
but you only ever seemed really- soft, vulnerable- I guess, in bed. Now I
look at you and I see the mother of my child. I guess I see you in my mind's
eye... filling out. Before you were the most important thing in my life.
Now, in the past three hours you've managed to become the two most
important things in my life."

Scully's face softened and she smiled, placing her hand on top of his on the
steering wheel. He left go and guided the car one handed as he laced his
fingers with hers.

"I guess I'll let you live," she grinned. "Mulder, you are the only person in
the world who - in less than three minutes - can make me go from wanting
to strangle you to wanting to throw you in the back seat and make love to
you for hours. And if I hear the word Hormones come out of your mouth
again, I really will strangle you," she warned.

"Hmmm... option two sounds mighty appealing, Agent Scully. However,
we're here." His eyes twinkled with mischief as he stopped the car. They
were in front of a burned-out shell of a house. The blackened husk was a
grim reminder that whatever went on in their lives, the world moved on.

Scully released his hand and pulled the file from its resting place between
them. "The report says the fire was set in three places. The body was in the
first floor foyer. Cause of death was a gunshot wound to the head.
Preliminary examination of the house reveals robbery might have been the
motive." She unbuckled and slipped out of the car. It was getting dark out
so they didn't have much time to check out the house.

Mulder accepted the switch from Dana to Agent Scully with equanimity,
and matched her pace. He caught up to her and held the yellow tape up and
out of her way. They had permission to be here thanks to a brief stop at the
local field office a half hour earlier.

The smell of burnt wood and charred fabric was cloying as she pushed
open the blackened door. Switching on her flashlight, she played the beam
over the damage. It was a surreal landscape of black on black. She sensed
Mulder hesitate behind her before following. His flashlight beam joining
hers in an orderly dance over alien surfaces.

She could feel his discomfort surround her, yet she wouldn't comment on
it. Fire. She knew he feared it. Dreaded it as if it were a living thing that
sought to destroy him. But this wasn't living flames. Just the blackened
excreta that marked the monster's passing.

"What are we looking for?" She asked as she moved carefully into what
was once a living room. The charred framework of furniture, the seared
brickwork of a fireplace, blackened picture frames...

She slipped a latex glove over her right hand then picked up a picture
frame. The glass was covered in soot. A few wipes of her thumb over the
oily substance revealed a water damaged photo. A young girl with her arm
around a German shepherd. 

"I'm not sure. Maybe nothing. I just felt like I needed to see the place."
Mulder let his flashlight illuminated a pile of melted VCR tapes, the
smashed TV screen, burnt books. He bent to pick up a singed photo album.
The first three pages were beyond help, but the fourth and subsequent
pages were only charred at the edges. The pictures were slightly bubbled
from heat damage, but he could make them out. A nice ordinary family. A
mother, a father and a little girl. He snuck a quick peek at Scully. It could
be his family one day... one day soon.

He almost hissed when he turned the page to reveal a picture of a little girl
sitting at a poolside. The girl was eight or nine in the picture. Sam. It was
almost a double of the picture he had on his desk at the office. Almost.
Only this child's hair was in pigtails not braids. Her swimsuit was different,
more modern. The picture was also in color. But the resemblance shook
him to the core and sent a chill up his spine. 

There was something going on here. Something beyond the little
information he'd been e-mailed. He wanted to know who his anonymous
source was for this case. And why in Hell he was seeing pictures of a kid
that could be his sister's double. He shivered as he stood. Or her clone.

                                     #####

Eddie turned from the Capitol Beltway onto the Richmond Highway.
Looking over at his passenger, he sighed. 

Hope was asleep. Curled into a ball around the battered teddy bear. She
didn't look seventeen under the passing street lights; she looked ten.
Despite her earlier resilience, he was struck again at the fact that she was
still a child. A child who had somehow become lost in a maze of mystery
even he was having trouble figuring out.

How the hell did a bunch of papers in the foreign, indecipherable language
of science, some unknown person's DNA sample, DelMark Labs and that
smokestack character fit together? How did an FBI agent fit in? Did he?
Which was the red herring: Hope's birth parents or the mysterious file? Did
either of them mean anything? 

Eddie winced. He was getting a headache from too much thinking.

He finally pulled into a Red Roof Inn. Three stories of economy heaven.
He reached over and shook Hope awake.

"Hmmm... we there yet?"

"Yeah, kiddo. We're there. Stay here while I get us a room. If ya don't
mind sharin'..." Eddie opened the car door.

Hope waved at him. "Fine. Just don't snore, Kline." 

He returned with their room key and unloaded their two small bags of
luggage. Hope carried the briefcase. 

The room was small, but it had two double beds. Hope stumbled past
Eddie into the bathroom. 

He set their bags down and sat on the bed. He was dead tired. He heard the
sink running then the toilet flush. Hope reappeared, and fell onto the bed
Eddie hadn't claimed. 

"'Night, Eddie," she curled into a ball again, and in no time was snoring
softly. 

Eddie went over and pulled off her sneakers before covering her with the
blanket that had been folded at the foot of the bed. Paternal urges covered,
he toed off his own shoes, locked the door, tucked a chair under the knob
for good measure and climbed into his own bed. He thumbed the safety on
his glok and shoved it under his pillow before falling asleep. Satisfied that
his was the bed closest to the door, between the world and the kid sleeping
in the same room.

His last thought before sleep took him was that tomorrow he was gonna
pay a visit to the J. Edger Hoover Building.

                                     #####

Devon Cross was pissed off. He had a couple of hours till he arrived in DC,
but then what? Call around to all the hotels in the area? Most likely. IF the
kid and the PI were even listed under their own names. He was being sent
after a needle in a haystack.

If he only knew what the two were looking for in DC, maybe he could head
them off...
          


Chapter 8 - To that which foul deeds are done. 
------------

They sat in a corner booth of an old silver diner. Mulder had gotten
photocopies of the contents of the fireproof lock box the investigators had
found in the house. All Dr. Robert Jamison's important papers were inside.
Insurance information, W2 forms, bank papers, a will, medical papers.
Mulder and Scully skimmed through them after they'd finished their food
and lingered over their drinks.

"Nothing incriminating as far as I can see, unless you count that Hope
Jamison is the only heir named in Dr. Jamison's will. It's possible she did it,
Mulder. The estate is worth four hundred thousand. People have killed for
less." Scully passed the photocopy of the will to Mulder as she sipped the
last of her soda through a straw.

"I don't think she did, Scully. Just call it a gut instinct. Something strange is
going on here involving Hope Jamison, I agree. I just don't think she's the
killer."

Scully sighed and moved on to the next photocopy. "Well here's something
interesting. She was adopted. Just three days after she was born." 

Mulder looked up. Now why wasn't he surprised? Mostly because the
pictures they had of the Jamisons showed a plain enough looking couple
who looked nothing like their child. If Hope was a clone...

"Where was she adopted from? Does it name an agency?" Mulder held out
his hand for the papers.

"Gift of Life agency out of Scranton, Pennsylvania. It was an open
adoption. Everything's listed but the father's name, so it should be easy to
check up on." She handed over the papers and dug into her purse looking
for the money for a tip.

Scully set three dollars on the table and started to get up but froze, struck
instantly by her partner's face. He was as white as a sheet, and his mouth
hung open. His blank stare was fixed on the papers she'd handed to him.
His whole posture was beyond alarming.

"Mulder?" Scully placed a gentle hand on his shoulder.

The eyes that looked up into hers were lost. No, terrified. "I... I gotta get
out of here. Gotta get some air." 

He stood and dropped a twenty on the table before walking past Scully and
into the parking lot.

"Mulder?" She snatched up the papers and shoved them into their file
before she hurried after him. "Mulder, what's wrong?"

"I don't know. Look, Scully, I'll meet you back at the hotel. It's only a few
blocks away... I just need... I need to be alone for a little bit."

She felt like some sort of wall had just been thrown up. She'd crashed into
it and couldn't even measure its dimensions. How could she fathom how to
move around it, or climb over it without knowing what it was? "Talk to
me." She pleaded.

"I... I will. I promise... just give me a little time, will you? Please."

She was defeated and she knew it. She really had no idea what had caused
this sudden, inexplicable change in her partner, friend, lover... It had caused
the fine hairs at the base of her neck to rise. 

"Ok. I'll be waiting. Whatever it is, Mulder, you can trust me."

He nodded, not seeming to even really see her, and it made her want to hit
him. If he wanted to withdraw for some reason, fine. But he better be
willing to talk to her eventually or she'd wring his neck.

He handed her the car keys and walked away, leaving her standing alone
under the parking lot lights of a dinky little diner in Cleveland. 

                                     #####

A completely open adoption. He would have laughed if he were capable of
it. His photographic memory played the adoption papers over and over in
his mind. The name of the adoptive parents, the lawyer, the birth mother
and the blank space for the birth father. Only one name mattered. Connie
Anne McKenzie.

It could have been some freak coincidence. Could have been, except
McKenzie wasn't all that common a name, not spelled like that anyway. He
couldn't feel his legs as he walked, wasn't even completely aware of where
he was going. 

Connie Anne McKenzie. His memory played back a face he had never
really forgotten. Soft brown hair surrounding a rectangular face, large
brown eyes, the lingering scent of lilacs. She'd been the first girl he'd ever
loved. She was a junior, and he was a senior in high school. Not all that
uncommon. It had taken him weeks to work up the nerve to ask her out.
Her acceptance had come as a surprise. 

They'd lost their virginity to each other in the back of his father's car. It had
been awkward and clumsy the first time, and not really all that great. But it
had gotten better. Lots better. He could still almost hear Connie laughing
at one of his jokes. 

Then, one day, she was gone. Her parents never liked him, and wouldn't
tell him anything. He got a note a week after she left saying she was with
an aunt and it was better that way. That they never could have worked
anyway.

Connie Anne McKenzie had had a kid. A little girl. She'd given that little
girl up for adoption. 

Mulder found himself leaning against a building, his breath coming in short
little gasps. Connie Anne McKenzie had given birth to a little girl. She had
had a daughter on February 10th, 1979. Exactly six months after he'd last
seen her. A little girl who looked just like Samantha. 

Fox Mulder fell to his knees and was sick all over the sidewalk three blocks
from his hotel. This couldn't be happening. This wasn't happening. It had to
be a set up - some vast convoluted plot. 

Except who would have known about Connie? 

He felt the cold concrete dig into his knees through his slacks. No one
knew about Connie. No one but his parents, who had discouraged him way
back then. No one at all. 

Connie had given birth to a daughter. A daughter. His daughter.

                                     #####

The lights of DC sparkled before him. Great. He was here. Now what? He
picked up his phone and dialed the number he knew by heart.

"Yes?" The voice on the other end was impatient.

"I'm here. Now what? Where is she taking the files?"

"I have an idea." The voice was playing with him. He was a mouse in the
cruel claws of some sadistic cat.

"Feel like sharing it?" Cross growled impatiently.

"I think she is looking for Special Agent Fox Mulder, of the F.B.I. I don't
know if she'll try to go directly to the FBI Headquarters or his home,
though."

"You have GOT to be kidding me." Cross mumbled. "The Feds? You think
she's going to the fucking Feds and have just now deigned to inform me of
this? That can't be allowed to happen. Especially Mulder. Jesus, the whole
project can get blown out of the water..."

"Shut up. Your only concern is retrieving those files. Preferably before she
finds Mulder. That means you are going to have to work quickly. I already
have his home watched. You are to watch the FBI headquarters. Mulder is
out of town on a brief trip. This leaves you a limited amount of time in
which to work. Don't call me again until you have those files." The phone
buzzed in his ear.

Cross threw the phone at the passenger side door. Fuck him. He should
have been told about this little kink in the works beforehand. 

Cross drove for the heart of DC. He had to find the best vantage point to
watch the building in question. It opened for general business around nine
in the morning.

                                     #####

Hope snuggled down in her covers, her face scrunching as the dream took
her.

She was afraid. Something dark and evil was chasing her through a tunnel.
A tunnel without light. The walls were closing in on her, no air... there was
no air... She stumbled in the darkness and tried to push back the walls as
they pressed slowly in. She fell to her knees as the ceiling pushed on her
head. She sobbed against the fear that froze her. She was going to die.
Crushed to death in the closing space, suffocated by the lack of air, or
devoured by the thing that she could feel growing closer.

Then the walls were gone. She was in a vast open space. Laying on her
back in an open field. She felt a soft, warm touch on her forehead, but saw
no one. The faint scent of lilacs tickled her nose. Then she heard it. The
singing.

Hush little baby don't say a word, Mamma's gonna buy you a mocking bird,
And if that mocking bird don't sing, Momma's gonna buy you a diamond
ring. 

The voice was soft and throaty as it sang. A woman's voice. One she hadn't
heard before. 

Hope relaxed in her sleep. Her tight grip on the hotel blanket relaxed and
the tension flowed out of her. She slept on feeling warm and safe and
loved.

                                     #####

Scully heard the door to the adjoining room close. She went to the
unlocked door between their rooms and flung it open. 

Mulder didn't even look at her as he walked into the bathroom and ran
water in the sink. She watched him splash handfuls of the chlorine scented
wetness onto his face. He turned off the water and she moved to hand him
a towel.

She didn't say anything. Her presence was all the pushing he would need
right now. 

Mulder dried his face and moved back into the hotel room, sitting heavily
on the bed.

"I didn't tell you why I was pulled to this case," he said quietly.

"You didn't have to. Hope Jamison looks a little like Sam." She smiled at
his startled look. "I'm not blind, Mulder. I've looked at that picture on your
desk for four years now. I saw it right away. I knew that was why you took
the bait, or whatever it was this informant was feeding you."

He looked almost embarrassed. Scully crouched in front of him, both of her
hands reached out to take his. The light near the bed caught and flashed in
the emerald of the ring she wore on her left hand. 

"I don't know who sent me the e-mail and specifics of this one, Scully. But
I do know why." He sighed. "What I can't figure out is how they found
out... and where this is leading."

"Mulder, what is it? What has you so upset?" 

"When I was eighteen I met this girl. She was a junior at my school. She
was... beautiful, smart, sexy in her own way." He looked into Scully's eyes.
There was no hurt there, no flinching from this recitation of a past
girlfriend. "She was my first love. My first lover. She's the first girl who
ever broke my heart. She just... left. No warning. No goodbyes. She just
wasn't there one day. As you can imagine I was hardly her parents dream,
and they wouldn't tell me where she was. I got this nice dear Fox letter a
week or so later. The usual, it'll never work out bull shit."

"I'm sorry." Scully said it softly. He met her eyes. They weren't just words.
She really was sorry for some long ago hurt.

"Her name was Connie Anne McKenzie. The same name listed as the birth
mother of Hope Jamison." His voice cracked, stretched, caught on
something in his throat that he had to swallow hard to try to speak around.
"The date of birth on those adoption papers was six months after Connie
left me."

He saw the connections snap into place. Watched the color drain from
Scully's face. "Ohmygod... It's a coincidence. Or... or you're right it's a set
up but for what?"

"Scully, set up or not that girl looks like Sam, she looks like me. I don't
know what game is being played here... but there is a pretty damn good
chance that this kid is... mine."

Scully's hands tightened on his and she sank from her crouch to sit on the
floor. "What... what are you going to do... if she is?"

Mulder laughed. A short, barking sound that held no humor. "I don't know.
I don't know. She never told me. If it's true then this kid doesn't know me
from Adam, and she'd probably be better off that way."

Scully shook her head as if to clear it. "No. No, Mulder. If this proves to be
true, and that's a big if... but if this proves to be true, then that young
woman has no one now. If we find her... WHEN we find her... she's going
to need you."

Mulder reached out to stroke Scully's hair. "I don't know what to think
right now. It's been one hell of a day."

Scully laughed. "I guess it has. I recommend trying to get some sleep."

"Yeah. Right. That's gonna happen." He sighed.

Scully pushed herself up off the floor and reached out to gently remove
Mulder's tie. She bent to remove his shoes as well. "Lay down. Humor
me." 

He lay back on the bed and wasn't the least surprised when she scooted in
beside him, wrapping her arms around his waist and laying her head on his
chest. He reached over and turned out the light. For a long time he lay
feeling her holding him and listening to her breathing in the dark.



Chapter 9 - As the hawk does stalk the dove
------------

Eddie awoke at the sound of the door closing. His eyes scanned the room
and he felt a surge of panic. Hope was not there, neither was their bags. He
bolted out of the bed, his gun in hand, and checked the bathroom. Nothing.
He turned to make a mad dash for the door when he saw it. A note written
on the hotel stationary taped to the dresser mirror.

'Don't want to shower and get back into dirty cloths. Can't stomach
wearing the stuff in my bag when God-only-knows who pawed through it.
Went to the Hotel laundry. I'm washing your stuff too. Don't worry, I
already saw your underwear.'

No signature, just a large, scrawled H.

That kid was gonna give him a heart attack yet. He found his shoes and
slipped them on before shoving his gun back into its clip and hiding it under
his shirt. He had to be careful. He wasn't licensed to carry concealed in
Virginia, or DC for that matter.

First he was going to check on Hope at the little laundry room of the hotel,
then he was going to go get them some breakfast. He had a lot to do today.

He found her sitting in a plastic chair leafing through an old magazine. She
looked up. "Hey, I didn't mean to wake you."

"Do. You nearly gave me a heart attack. Don't wander off like that." He sat
next to her. "I'm gonna scrounge some breakfast, then we'll shower and
change into those clean clothes," he grinned at her, "then I want you to stay
put. Here. I have a friend in the FBI. Hellen Matthews. I'm gonna go to the
offices in town and see if I can look her up. If I can I'll see what she can tell
me about Fox Mulder."

Hope frowned. "You know someone in the FBI?"

"I know twelve agents actually, but Hellen and I got along real well." Eddie
thanked God he had a dark enough complexion that the faint blush he felt
was most likely unnoticeable. 

"How do you know FBI agents? Lots of federal cases while you were on
the force?" Hope tilted her head to the side, as if trying to view him
differently.

"Nope. Field Police Training Program. I took two weeks of training at
Quantico as part of a federal/local cooperative program. I made some
friends. Just promise me you'll stay put." 

Hope nodded. "Ok. I guess it's a good thing this place has cable."

                                     #####

Cross leaned heavily against the car door. He was tired and cranky, and
he'd just gotten off the phone with someone who'd been pretty interested in
what he had to say. 

Keeping from harming the girl was not only a waste of effort, it could
jeopardize the whole mission, and the project. The situation had not sat
well with Cross. Something was up, and while he knew better than to ask
what, he did call someone higher up and present his case, calmly, logically.
Luckily the big man understood. He had been unaware of the previous ban,
and had rescinded it.

An hour ago, a messenger dressed as a jogger had tapped on the car
window and handed Cross a envelope. Inside was an FBI Visitor's badge,
V.I.P. 

Cross lay the badge on the seat and resumed his vigil.

He had a long to wait, however, at eleven thirty he saw his objective. The
man was tall and stocky, with brown hair shot through with gray. He wore
a gray suit and a dark blue tie. He passed right in front of Cross' car and up
the stairs to the J. Edger Hoover Building.

Objective in sight Cross got out and followed, clipping on his badge as he
went. He wasn't about to lose sight of Edward Kline.

                                     #####

Mulder awoke to a room already touched by sunlight. 

Amazing. He had slept. But then, Scully always had been a calming
influence. She was on her side, facing away from him. During the night
they had turned so that he was spooning her. One arm was tucked under
his head, his hand completely asleep. His other arm was curled over her,
that hand resting lightly against her stomach as if in sleep he had sought to
touch the new life growing there, to protect it.

Funny, she didn't feel any different. Not even the slightest swelling. How
long did that take? When it happened the secret would be out. The game
would be up. They'd have to pay the piper.

He lightly stroked her abdomen. 

"Please don't." Her voice startled him; she was awake after all.

"You ok?" He moved to perch on his elbow, allowing the blood to flow
back into his sleeping hand.

"I'm fine, Mulder. Just... go for a run or something. I have to lay here for a
little bit."

She couldn't see him pale, or swallow hard. She was sick. Morning
sickness. And he was at least partly to blame.

"Can I get you anything?" He eased off the bed, trying hard to keep it from
shifting much under his weight.

"Saltines. They're in my carry on. Just leave them on the nightstand and
take a run. You probably need to clear your head a bit anyway. I'll be fine,
and if you stick around and hover over me I will not be responsible for my
actions." Her voice was muffled against her arm. She was laying very still,
as if afraid the slightest movement would set her running for the bathroom.

He retrieved the crackers and placed them as ordered. "Are you sure? I
mean I feel I should do something..."

"What? What are you going to do other than sit in a chair as I lay here and
look all guilty and stare at me until I loose my temper again? Nothing. I'm
fine. This will pass in an hour or so, and I'll be perfectly fine for the rest of
the day. So do us both a favor and go for a run."

Simple, direct and to the point. That was his Scully. She was right. It didn't
make him feel any better, but she was right. She was the type who
preferred to be alone when they were sick.

"Alright. I'll go for a run. I personally think this is all a ploy to get me into
my jogging shorts though." He managed a weak smile.

"And the gray tee shirt. The sleeveless one. You know how I like that tee
shirt." She was laying there, perfectly still and nauseous, and making jokes. 

He shook his head in silent wonder and went to change into his jogging
outfit.

                                     #####

By the time he returned and showered, Scully was up and torturing her hair
with an instrument of the inquisition currently put out by Conair. 

"I called the local police while you were out, Mulder. They've traced some
checks from Dr. Jamison's account to a PI in town. This guy specializes in
helping adoptees search for their birth parents. He does the usual cheating
spouses and insurance fraud work as well, but his specialty certainly looks
more then coincidental." Scully unplugged her curling iron and brushed out
her hair as she spoke. "And the PI, one Edward Kline, happens to be
missing. Last his neighbors saw of him was him leaving with a young
woman and a suitcase. Sounds like a lead to me."

She applied just a touch of eyeliner, lipstick and some powder. Morning
ritual done.

"I thought you were going to lay still and try not to be sick." Mulder
stepped out of the shower and toweled off.

"The phone was right there, Mulder." She shrugged. "Now get dressed. I'm
feeling much better and want some breakfast."

They discussed their options over breakfast. 

"So our best bet is to find Connie. I don't think Hope has anywhere else to
go. But first we check out DelMark Biotech and find out exactly what Dr.
Jamison was working on." Scully finished off her cereal.

"I agree that's our best next step, but this kid has proven pretty resourcful
so far, she might not go searching for Connie. I just hope this PI she ran to
can be trusted." Mulder hadn't really eaten anything. He just pushed his
scrambled eggs around his plate. 

Scully smiled to herself. If Hope Jamison was indeed Mulder's daughter,
then resourcefulness must be a family trait. "Mulder, the local PD back
Kline up. He was a former vice cop. A real straight arrow. His last case had
him involved with an IA sting that caught three of his fellow officers
stealing and reselling cocaine on the street."

"So why isn't he still a cop?" Mulder pushed his hashbrowns into his eggs. 

"The cops he helped bust were not too thrilled, one of them managed to
kock him down and shoot him. Didn't kill him, or even aim to, what they
did do was shoot off two fingers of his gun hand, forcing him to either take
a desk job, run dispatch or quit. A twisted sort of revenge." Scully tapped
his hand with her spoon. "Don't play with your food. Eat."

"Yes, mom." He teased, then looked thoughtful. It was true now, wasn't it?
She was going to be a mother. He was going to be a father. He might
already be a father... genetically speaking.

"Mulder, we'll find her." Scully's soft reassurence only gained a stiff nod.

They'd find her. They had to. But... then what?
               


Chapter 10 - elusive dreams shatter with morn. 
-------------- 

Delmark Biomed 
Cleveland, OH

The building was a model of modern architecture. White and glass, three
stories set off by the surrounding landscaped property. 

Inside was bright and glistening. Sterile. Mulder and Scully were met by a
crisp, smiling receptionist who led them to the crisp, smiling director of the
facility. Dr. Gary Rossi was remarkable only in his unremarkability. He was
plain of face, slightly balding, average hight, average build, brown hair,
brown eyes, brown suit. An immaculate suit, but rather dull for all its
neatness.

He gestured for them to have a seat in his office. Scully accepted, but
Mulder remained standing.

"I understand you want to know about our recently departed colleague. A
real tragedy. Dr. Jamison will be missed." The sad look that settled across
his features did not appear to go much deeper. A public face making the
appropriate responses.

"Him or his work?" Mulder met the director's eyes, his face carefully blank,
a mask to counter the other man. A game of masks. They would have to
peel away the false faces to find the barest hint of what lay beneath.

"Dr. Jamison was an excellent researcher and employee, but we will miss
the man as WELL as the work."

"What, exactly, was Dr. Jamison working on?" Scully inquired, keeping her
own professional mask in place.

"Cataloging genetic codes for cancer research. We are looking to isolate
the genetic factor that predisposes people to cancer. If we can isolate this
factor we may be able to prevent the disease from ever manifesting itself in
certain individuals." Dr. Rossi spread his hands. "Nothing top secret."

"Yet if the factor were isolated that information would be worth a lot of
money wouldn't it?" Scully pressed.

"Yes. It would. But it has yet to be found."

"We have information that Dr. Jamison may have taken documents from
this facility. Perhaps he found it and didn't tell you." Mulder leaned against
a bookcase lining one wall.

Not so much as a muscle twitch of reaction from Dr. Rossi. "Quite
impossible. The equipment we use records all information passing through
it. It can only be retrieved with the proper passwords, which Dr. Jamison
did not have. If such a thing had happened we would also have that
information, and be making a public announcement about it." Rossi tilted
his head to the side and went on, "Besides, Dr. Jamison was a model
employee. He wouldn't take anything. I'm afraid your information is
wrong."

"Could we see what he was working on the day he died?" Scully made the
request, but there was a hint of demand behind it.

"Of course. Follow me."

He led them through a maze of corridors that made Mulder wonder if
they'd find cheese or peanut butter at the next turn. At last they came to a
lab. It was perfectly ordered. Dr. Rossi took some thick files from the
outbox near the door. 

"The last few scans he ran prior to leaving work."

Scully opened the first file and viewed a series of numbers and found the
sheet of film mapping the subject of the file's genetic code. Behind the
sheets of numbers was a standard medical chart for a 35 year old white
female from Illinois. 

"Where is the sample?" She asked. The question didn't seem to startle Dr.
Rossi. He moved to a drawer and pulled it out. Inside were rows of
compartments, each containing a numbered plastic case. Each little plastic
case contained a tissue sample.

The memory of the last time he'd seen such containers played through
Mulder's mind. They, too, were linked to medical files. Lots and lots of
medical files. And it wasn't in any research facility but a dark West
Virginian Mine tunnel.

Dr. Rossi checked the number on the chart and found the corresponding
numbered case. "Here it is." He handed it to Scully. She looked at it and
handed it back.

"Thank you doctor." Her eyes met Mulder's. They declared she didn't think
they'd get anything else here. They also announced that she was suspicious
as hell.

"Could we talk to any of Dr. Jamison's friends?" Mulder thumbed through
the files in the In box.

"Of course. There are a few people he's been known to lunch with and
spend off hours with. I'll arrange meetings."

Two hours later, they were on their way back to the local field office. 

"Well, that was interesting," Mulder muttered under his breath.

"Yes," Scully sighed and leaned back into her seat, "They were very good
at telling us nothing at all. Did you notice the empty rack on the work
counter next to Dr. Jamison's computer and microscope? I don't know a
researcher anywhere who keeps their specimen racks empty. Those are
usually holding work in progress, close at hand. That place was cleaned up,
Mulder. They were covering something."

Mulder nodded. "The work in the In box was dated the day before
yesterday. The day Rob Jamison was killed. But shouldn't that stuff have
been dated from the day before? He put in a full day of work prior to his
death."

"So the question remains; what did Dr. Jamison take from Delmark, and
why? I'm beginning to agree with you, I don't think Hope is a suspect. I
think she's been dragged into something." Scully crossed her arms and
stared out the windshield.

"Scully, don't start changing your views just because she COULD be my
daughter. That has yet to be conclusively proven. She could be a clone, and
the whole adoption thing a cover, or a sick joke."

"I'm not that easy, Mulder. I've got as many doubts as you about the girl.
But the little song and dance back there was enough to convince me Dr.
Jamison died because of something to do with his work. NOT because of
his daughter. Besides, if this Kline character is a street smart type, I don't
think he'd be easily suckered by a sob story from a teenager. He's helping
the girl. I'm not sure why yet, but I can't picture someone like the person I
heard about risking everything for someone they were suspicious of."

                                     #####

Eddie looked through the milling throng of suits and regulation haircuts.
Most of these people look like carbon copies of each other, he mused. But
there, sitting at a desk by a window, was Hellen Matthews. 

Her black hair was clipped short and had been straightened, it kind of
reminded him of Demi Moore's in Ghost. She was typing on her computer
as he drew near. He watched her absently push her wire framed glasses
back up on her upturned little nose. 

He leaned over the desk. "Boo."

"Eeek, it's a mouse," she drawled as she continued to work, "what're you
doing in town, Calvin?" She hadn't even flinched or paused in her typing,
but the corner of her mouth twitched up.

"Nice greeting, Mat. You on valium or something? Last time an old pal
showed up unexpected on ME I almost jumped outta my skin." He perched
on the corner of her desk.

"Calvin, they had to call me to clear you to get in here. You weren't THAT
big a surprise. So what're you doing in town?" She punched the enter key
with something close to violence and turned to face him. Her chocolate
brown eyes raked over him, making him shift uncomfortably. 

She was still a killer in the looks department. Still had a knock out figure,
and her cinnamon colored skin showed very few signs of age. What was it
Boyd had called her when they were all taking the training program... oh
yeah, coffee with just the right touch of cream. 

"I'm working on a case. I needed some insider information from the
Bureau, so I decided to look you up." He looked down to see scattered
pictures of three elderly women, all bludgeoned to death by the look of it. 

Hellen Matthews was a Special Agent working out of the Violent Criminal
Apprehension Unit. She worked with the Investigative Support Unit
occasionally, although she was not a full time profiler.

"Can you tear yourself away for lunch?" He asked at the lull in
conversation.

"Calvin, you don't do more than send birthday and Christmas cards and
throw me an occasional phone call for four years, then waltz in here ready
to pick my brains for information to help you on some private dick case of
yours... I aint your fibby whore." She crossed her arms and glared at him.
"Which means you better be buyin'."

He grinned at her. "Of course I'm buyin'. I know how to show a lady a
good time." 

"Really? Our last date was bursting into the post office in Hogan's Alley. If
I remember correctly you got yourself shot in the ass and took a dive into
the outgoing mail chute." She smiled. "I believe the instructor gave you
points for creative dodging."

Kline laughed. Hogan's Alley was the Academy training ground. A realistic
mock town where training was done in tactics and street scenarios. The
shot he'd taken in the ass was green paint. 

"Ok, but don't expect me to break any disclosure vows, or anything like
that. I can't promise you anything. I know just the place, too." She stood
up and retrieved her jacket from the back of her chair.

"How much is my wallet gonna scream?" He asked, offering her his arm,
which she promptly slapped away. 

"Not much. You still like hot food, because I know this little bar that
makes killer wings."

"Mat, you don't like hot food." He looked surprised. 

"Nope, but Brandy's also makes one of the world's best burgers." She
preceded him into the elevator.

                                     #####

Cross watched Kline and a black woman exit the lobby elevator. He'd
hadn't had to wait around long. He'd avoided suspicion by wandering about
determinedly, looking like he knew where he was going.

He hung back as they left through the front doors, dodging a wave of
tourists. He managed to keep Kline in sight and note what car he was
driving. Still hanging back, he got into his own car. He pulled into traffic
and followed five cars behind.

                                     #####

Mulder held the door open for Scully as they entered the field office. Agent
Scaramastro was waiting for them at his little desk. The kid was as green as
they got, and eager to prove useful to someone. His eagerness was
alternately annoying and endearing. If he could avoid becoming an asshole
blueflamer, he'd make a great agent some day.

"Agents, I ran searches on that name you gave me. Um... Connie Anne
McKenzie, married George Daugherty in 1981 in Scranton, Pennsylvania.
Deceased in 1990, according to the coroners report it was due to massive
bodily injuries inflicted by the same George Daugherty. No listed
descendants or family. I also checked George Daugherty in case you
wanted that information too. He was found hanging in the showers of the
Scranton Prison in 1991. Didn't appear to be suicide either, but, no one has
yet been charged."

Agent Scaramastro handed the file to Scully who smiled her thanks. She
peered at Mulder out of the corner of her eye. His mask was back on, but
she saw the tight jaw, the twitching muscle there, the stiff spine. 

She hated this. Connie was dead, denying Mulder the kind of
confrontational release he needed. She couldn't defend herself or offer him
answers. Yet she also knew on some level it must have hurt Mulder to
learn how she had died. 

"Mulder, let's see if we can get a flight to Scranton. They still might have
traced Connie that far." 

He only nodded. She sighed. Not here. She couldn't offer her sympathy,
couldn't embrace him and offer that simple comfort here, in public. So she
settled for laying her hand on his arm. 

"Let's go," she said softly.



Chapter 11 - And over all the triumph of love
--------------

Eddie signaled the waitress and placed their orders before starting in on
Hellen.

"What I really need is... I don't know, personal evaluation, rumors that sort
of thing, on one of your fellow agents. I'm working on a case he might be
involved in."

Hellen shook her head, "So you plan on finding all the weaknesses to
interrogate him and horn in on his investigation? It aint like you Eddie."

"Not at all. As far as I know this particular agent isn't involved in this
investigation in any official capacity. He also isn't a suspect, as I really
doubt he was in the area of the... um... crimes committed. I can't tell you
how he's linked to this, only that he is." Eddie sipped at his beer.

"And just what *IS* this? Who are you interested in, Calvin?" She leaned
forward in the booth resting her elbows on the table and pinning him with a
pair of dark brown daggers.

"A local gene doc got whacked two days ago. I was working for him. Stuff
is getting crazy. I just want to clear everything up and move on." He wasn't
lying so he met her gaze unflinchingly. Hellen was great at interrogation,
he'd seen her work. Unfortunately for her he also knew HOW she worked.
"Come on Hellen, I can't tell ya more than that. The doc wasn't the only
one involved here, I have other interests, personal ones. I swear I won't ask
anything that would be a breach of security."

She snorted, "As if I'd answer. Go ahead, ask away."

"Do you know an agent named Fox Mulder?" Kline scratched at the label
of his beer with a fingernail.

"Spooky? Geez, Kline, what kind of case are you on? ET land in the
victim's back yard?"

Eddie looked up, "Huh?"

"Spooky Mulder. Oh hell, he was, I guess still is, one of the bureau's best
profilers. Once upon a time he was the golden boy of ISU, rumor had it he
was in line to take over after Patterson. But he... I dunno, got sidetracked.
Started lookin into freaky shit right outta the twilight zone and beyond. He
found a bunch a cases marked as unsolved cause they involved this kind of
crap. Bigfoot, Nessie, but especially little green men. Mulder eats up all the
alien abduction stuff you find in the Globe or a half dozen rags. I don't
know what's crazier, that he wants to look into that kinda stuff, that the
Bureau lets him or that he and the Mrs actually have a seventy five percent
solve rate."

The waitress dropped off their food and Eddie barely noticed. "So he's a
nut case?"

"I didn't say that. I said he was... spooky. The weirdest thing isn't the solve
rate, it's that his division, a division of TWO I might add, was taken out
from the jurisdiction of VICAP and put under the direct control of the AD.
Mulder doesn't answer to Blevins like the rest of us. He only answers to
Skinner. Some people make remarks about brown nosin' but that ain't
Spooky. Hell, he once cracked Skinner in the jaw for no reason right there
in the hall of headquarters. Everyone was getting in on the 'When are they
gonna fire the Spookster' pool then. Too much weird shit goes on around
Spooky and his Mrs. Those who stick their heads up their asses laugh at
them, those with eyes stay away from them for fear the crap they get into
might rub off, and the rest... the rest reserve judgment."

"Which category to you fall in? And who's the Mrs?" Kline noticed his
wings at last and picked one up, taking a bite. Hellen was right, this place
did know how to make them. His sinuses were immediately cleared out and
he lost contact with his lips...

"Me, I think I'm in the last category. And the Mrs is his partner. Mrs
Spooky. Real name's Dana Scully, and she's a chop doc. Pretty damn good
too. If you want the in-house talk on them, half the Bureau thinks they're
doing the horizontal lambada, the other half are making bets on how long
it'll be before she shoots him again." Hellen bit into her burger with gusto.

"You?"

She swallowed her mouthful, "You know me Kline, I play it safe with my
money. I have ten bucks in each pool."

                                     #####

So much for a nice relaxing lunch, Marty sighed to himself. The woman
seated across for him had her head tilted to the side and was actively
evesdropping on the people in the booth behind her. She didn't usually do
that kind of thing but he knew he'd lost her immediate attention the minute
the rather loud exclamation of "Spooky?" came from that direction.

He watched Jackie's eyes darken in response to whatever was being said.
Someone was bad mouthing Mulder and St. George considered that the
exclusive job of herself and Dana Scully. No one else had the right to horn
in on the fun. However, she knew better then to rise to her friend's defense
in situations like this. Nah, she saved her fights for when they had a chance
of getting violent, nothing like a good brawl to make the day.

"You plan on finishing that?" Marty indicated the steak and cheese on
Jackie's plate.

"Sure. Be quiet." She proceeded to work on her lunch as she listened in.

"You certainly know how to make a guy feel important." He grinned across
the table, refusing to flinch at her glare.

In a half hour, St. George had dug out the money for her lunch. "I feel like
playing follow the leader, wanna come along?"

Marty looked up, only mildly surprised. "Now what?"

"When someone is fishing for information on Mulder it usually leads to
trouble. Do you really think I wanna miss this party? Come on, let's see
where this guy goes."

Marty slid out of his seat and followed St. George. She pointed out of the
front window to a couple getting into a gray sedan.

What the hell, he didn't have anything better to do today.

                                     #####

The commuter flight took an hour. It was spent mostly in silence. It was
not a comfortable silence. It was only as their flight began to approach the
airport that Mulder spoke.

"She didn't deserve that." It was almost a whisper.

Scully lay her hand over his and gave it a squeeze. "No one does, Mulder.
No one."

"She hated her parents, you know, but at the same time she defied them she
wanted their approval so badly. I guess every kid goes through that stage.
The funny thing is I never really knew if she loved me, or saw me as one
more way to strike out at her parents."

"I don't know what to tell you, Mulder. I can't know what she may have
thought and done eighteen years ago. I never met her. But, if it makes you
feel any better, I adored my father. He would have hated you." She smiled
at the slight upturn of his mouth at that. "And if he were alive today I'd still
love you. Still marry you. Not out of defiance, but out of devotion."

"Thanks, Scully. You really think he would have hated me?"

She chuckled. "Without a doubt. You have crazy ideas, you're a liberal
with a bad sense of organization and no respect for authority. But your
worst crime is you are involved with me. No one would have been good
enough." 

"Not to mention, I'm not a good little Catholic boy." The smile was back.
The pain wasn't gone, but it was manageable for now.

"Mulder, you aren't even a good little Jewish boy so don't go there."

"But your mom likes me." He was stroking his thumb against the back of
her hand as he held it. Light little circles that were proving quite
distracting.

"Yeah, well, I never told her about your terrible bathroom etiquette."

                                     #####

Now it was Scully's turn to be uncomfortable. She stood just behind
Mulder, feeling the damp chill waft around her. They were surrounded by
gravestones jutting up like broken, jagged teeth in neat little rows. 

They'd found where Connie had been buried through an old obituary.
They'd found the grave through the cemetery superintendent's office. He'd
informed them that a man and young woman had been looking for the
exact same plot just yesterday. 

Just yesterday. They were closing in. 

They'd also visited the Community Medical Center where Hope Jamison
had been born. Their badges and more than a touch of bullying had gotten
them access to the birth records. A baby girl McKenzie was listed. Mulder
had, indeed, been named as father on the birth certificate. 

Scully didn't want to say anything. The people they moved against were
capable of anything, but the paper of the form, the pattern of it, the slight
yellowing edges... all supported the theory that the birth certificate had
been made in 1979, before Mulder was even in the FBI. Long before the
X-Files. It was looking more and more like this was real. If it was, than
who was pulling the strings? Who had led Mulder into this, pointed him in
the direction of the child he'd never known? 

The cold granite before them was dark from the morning's rain. The rain
had managed to keep fresh the bouquet of spring flowers laying at the base
of the marker. The darkened stone did not hide the primitively scratched in
addition to the marker's legend.

Mulder crouched down before the stone, reaching out he traced his fingers
over the roughly carved letters. "and Mother". Simple and to the point. She
chose not to comment on the single tear she spotted sneaking from the
corner of Mulder's eye. She felt an intruder.

She loved him, and there was nothing she could do for him here. Nothing
but remain, to be there. He was hurting and it twisted her heart. This was a
part of his life she had not been a part of. It was something uniquely his.
Something she couldn't really share, only support him through.

"Where to now? Her parents?" Mulder asked. His voice just a little ragged.
He stood and faced her. The mask was back. She didn't like it when it was
turned on her. Once it didn't bother her. Now it did.

"I don't think that's a good idea for you, Mulder. I don't want to bail you
out on assault charges. Besides, if you want the truth, I think she'll have
gone looking for you."

He looked at her strangely, his expression unreadable. "Why?"

"Because you were named on her birth certificate. Because I don't think
she really has anywhere else to go. I think we should go home, Mulder.
Those two have proven themselves resourceful and determined so far. I
think they'll find you."

                                     #####

Cross noticed the second car immediately. He wasn't the only one tailing
Kline. He made immediate moves to remain unseen.

Kline dropped the woman off at the FBI building. She'd reached over and
ruffled his hair as she got out. Just freaking charming.

Kline pulled back out into traffic just ahead of Cross. The other car was
behind them. It was a regular parade.

The occupants of the other car were a man and a woman. Now who else
would be interested in Kline, and would he have to eliminate the problem?



Chapter 12 - the seeds from which hope is born.
--------------

Eddie was lost in thought. Hellen's information had set to rest some of his
fears and raised new ones. This Mulder character had some freaky beliefs.
That didn't really bother Eddie that much. One of the best cops he's worked
with was convinced Elvis was alive and well and living in Tacoma,
Washington. To be honest Eddie wasn't sure where he stood, himself, on
the whole little green man issue. He tended to take everything with a grain
of salt while keeping in mind that ANYTHING was possible.

So 'Spooky' Mulder's penchant for the strange didn't worry him. What did
worry him was things left unsaid. People avoided Mulder and his partner
for fear of some of the crap they drug in rubbing off. What kind of crap
was that? The kind that had an FBI Assistant Director take immediate
charge of them? Not good. Was it the kind of crap that got doctors killed
because they'd adopted the wrong kid?

Could it be the kind of crap that puts said kid in the line of fire? 

He was so lost in his inner thoughts, and the downtown was so crowded,
he never noticed his tails.

                                     #####

Cross watched Kline pull into the parking lot of a Red Roof Inn. Bingo! 

He pulled into the parking lot of the mini-mall across the street and fished
out his binoculars. He couldn't move until he was sure the girl was there as
well. He felt time pressing in on him. He'd have to act soon.

He also noticed the other car drive on by. It didn't stop. Now who the hell
was it? They were shoddy in the surveillance department, that was for sure.
He was just as glad. He didn't want to have to go through the bother of
wasting them. The more bodies left behind the sloppier the job. The
sloppier the job the less happy his employers were. 

Cross held the binoculars up and watched Kline enter a second floor room.
Damn. Curtains were drawn, and he wasn't able to see inside. The girl was
the key. He just had to wait and be sure of her location.

Personally he was going to enjoy his job a lot more now that he didn't have
that damn stupid 'don't hurt the kid' order over his head. He was looking
forward to the upcoming conversation. He hoped she was a tough nut to
crack. Even though it would cause some delays, the thought of breaking
the little bitch was a tantalizing one. She was too smart and full of herself.
Probably never had to struggle a day in her life. Spoiled rich kid. 

And she was pretty. He'd seen her picture. He was going to really enjoy
this. Because once he had the briefcase and files he had to get rid of the
witnesses. Especially the girl. The best way to do that was to disguise her
death as another crime. He'd get to have fun. Enjoy himself a little. He
wondered if she was a virgin...

                                     #####

"Should I pull in?" Marty asked as they approached the parking lot their
query had entered.

"No, we know where he is now. I don't think he saw us. It's best not to be
too conspicuous. Let's head back." Jackie started chewing on her bottom
lip. Something was up. Her 'spidy sense' was tingling. As soon as Mulder
and Scully got back she was gonna have to tell them what she'd overheard.

                                     #####

Eddie walked into the room and closed the door before leaning against the
wall and enjoying the floor show. 

Hope was wearing a pair of jeans she must have used a shoehorn to get
into and a plain red t-shirt. Her hair was loose and swayed gracefully with
her movements. Movements which at this time was a dance. She was
wearing a pair of earphones and had a cd player clipped to her hip. He
didn't know what she was listening to, but her movements were slow and
weaving, almost sensual. But above all, they were familiar and precise.
He'd originally thought she'd had the body of a dancer. Now he knew he
was right.

She did a spin and spotted him before flashing a blushing smile.

"Anything good?" He asked as she slipped off the headphones.

"Shaharazade. It's no Aerosmith, but I didn't feel in the mood for the bump
and grind, and this little room doesn't have the space for a full out
Aerosmith dance fest." She shuddered and hugged herself. "Can I open the
drapes now? I can see the sun coming through them and all, but I really
could use a glance at the outside.

"What's wrong kiddo? Claustrophobic?"

"As a matter of fact, yes. Please don't try to argue to my rational side. I'm
holding up. But small spaces drive me out of my mind, and this hotel room
has been shrinking the entire time you were gone."

"Go ahead, open them. Then I have to tell you what I found out today."
Eddie stripped off his suit coat and sprawled on the bed. "And I'm not sure
what to make of it myself."

Hope felt the world open up as she yanked back the curtains. She was able
to see the sky, the street, the city. She wasn't closed in anymore.

                                     #####

Cross grinned. This was too good to be true. The girl just opened the
curtains. She was there. Now he just had to watch and wait till dark. Less
conspicuous under cover of the dark.

                                     #####

Mulder dropped Scully's bags in her bedroom. He was tired. Not just
physically. He didn't want to go back to his dark apartment alone. Not yet
anyway. 

"Are you gonna call your mom?" he asked as he made his way into the
kitchen where she had started tea brewing. She'd informed him on the flight
home that she was giving up coffee. The cup of his she'd had the day before
was her last, until the baby was born.

Baby. It was still so damn hard to reconcile. She was carrying his baby. It
made him feel helpless and giddy all at once. It tied his stomach in knots
and on the most basic, primitive level, inflated his ego a bit. No shooting
blanks here. Despite their precautions his swimmers were in top order.
God, how caveman. If he'd actually voiced those thoughts, Scully would
most likely take out her gun and shoot him in an area that would assure
there would be no second mistake.

Or should he make that third? God, the thought of Hope Jamison made his
head hurt. Maybe he should go get himself fixed on his own. He could just
hear Scully's voice in his head saying 'snip, snip, Mulder.' The thought
made the parts in question try to run and hide. He winced.

"Nope. Mulder, you don't just call your mother to tell her this kind of
news. We both have to go see her. This weekend. I don't know if she's
going to be thrilled that she's finally getting the son-in-law AND the
grandchild she was hoping for, or angry that we got things backwards."
Scully poured the tea into two cups. Herbal. No caffeine.

"I don't know. I was kinda planning on calling mine."

The look he got was enough to immediately change his mind. OK, he could
tell her in person. Should he slip in... 'By the way mom, you might already
have a granddaughter. She's seventeen.' Not unless he wanted to induce
another stroke.

Scully's phone rang and she moved past him to pick it up.

"Scully."

"Didja tell him?" Scully heard the same question she'd heard two days ago
in the same voice.

Mulder watched her smile. Her smile was something he could never get
enough of and he was just a little resentful that he wasn't the cause of it this
time.

"As a matter of fact, I did." 

Mulder was looking at her strangely. He could only hear half this
conversation.

"Did he faint?"

"No, he proposed." Scully looked down at the ring she now wore and
turned it on her finger with little moves of her thumb. An easily disguised
ring. He was more practical then she gave him credit for. 

"He WHAT? Did you punch him or accept? Don't leave me in suspense
here, Dana!"

"I said no. But I got convinced." She winked at Mulder and mouthed
'Jackie'.

He nodded. 

"So... are you going to do the deed before or after junior arrives?" Scully
heard the teasing tone in her friend's voice.

"Junior is arriving because we already did the deed, Jackie. I thought you
might have picked that up in high school."

Mulder almost spewed his tea across her kitchen and Scully smothered a
laugh.

"Har, har. You know what I'm asking."

"We haven't really discussed it. I think the sooner the better, though.
Personally I'm routing for a nice quiet ceremony BEFORE I have to report
this little bombshell to Skinner."

She looked in at Mulder who was nodding solemnly.

"Oh, PLEASE let me be in on this. I wanna see Skinner's face. I wanna
bring a camera. You owe me favors, Dana."

Scully chuckled. "We'll think about it."

"Talking about favors, I thought you two should know. Marty and I went
to Brandy's for lunch today and overheard a man and woman talking about
Mulder. The woman was a Fed. The guy was the one prying."

Scully straightened and Mulder noticed the change in posture immediately,
his own body tensing in response. 

"Was this nosy person's name Kline? Was he missing two fingers on his
right hand?"

"His name was either Eddie or Calvin from what I could hear, and I didn't
exactly get a chance to examine his limbs. I did follow him to the Red Roof
Inn in Alexandria, though."

"Eddie? That's our man. Calvin? Wait... a nickname to go with Kline..."
Scully grabbed the scratch pad near her phone and wrote down the location
of the Inn.

"Your man? You lookin' for this guy? Why didn't you let me in on it?"

"Because we just found out this morning. He's looking for Mulder, we're
looking for him. We were bound to meet eventually."

"Is he dangerous?" Jackie sounded more interested then worried.

"I don't think so, but we aren't ruling it out yet. Thanks, Jackie. Consider
yourself invited to that meeting with Skinner.We might need the witness to
a potential double homicide anyway."

Scully hung up the phone and handed the paper she'd written on to Mulder.
"Jackie found Kline without even looking. What do you say we go out
there and meet the elusive Ms. Jamison?"

Mulder's hand was shaking slightly as he held the note. He nodded.

"Yeah. Right away. After you eat something, though."

Scully looked at him, startled. "Mulder, stalling isn't going to help here."

"I'm not stalling. Your last meal was airline lunch, which doesn't fall into
any of the known terrestrial food groups. You have to eat regularly now,
Scully," he admonished, "no more skipping meals because you're too busy."

"Now who has turned into my mother? Ok, you're right. We'll stop for
dinner first." Scully conceded, however she still felt like this was an
uncharacteristic stalling tactic. She had the distinct impression that Mulder
was afraid of this girl, of all she might mean.



Chapter 13 - What is love without the pain? 
--------------

He had only recently pulled into the parking lot. Other business had kept
him away til now. Stupid shit. It was almost as if they were jerking his
chain again. Trying to remind him who was in charge. He didn't think they
even realized who was in charge anymore. 

He noticed the car leave the lot he was sharing to cross the street and park
in front of the hotel. Dusk had fallen, and the dim light hid much. It didn't
completely hide the recognizable figure of Cross climbing the stairs to the
second floor balcony. What the HELL was he up to now?

                                     #####

Eddie tucked the lid on the last of the pizza they'd had delivered. He was
worried. Hope was getting antsy. 

After telling her what he'd learned about Agent Fox "Spooky" Mulder, she
had just looked at him, completely serious, and said, "Eddie, then he's just
the one who needs to see those files. He'd know what to do. My dad said
the DNA documented there was not of any known earthly origin."

"You buying into this ET stuff?" He was surprised. The kid so far had
seemed to have her head screwed on right.

"Dad always said to think with your mind, but always keep alive your sense
of wonder. Did Shakespeare say there are more things..."

"Ok, ok. I get the point. So you think this is all some conspiracy linked to
little green men? That's stretching your sense of wonder quite a bit."

"Eddie, my dad was a very sensible man. If he said those files document
something not of this earth, then they document something not of this
earth."

"So what DID you do with the briefcase?" he asked.

"Hid it someplace safe," was her answer.

Now she was in the bathroom. 

He heard the soft rap at the door and frowned.

"What is it?"

"Pizza" came the muffled response.

Eddie sighed, the damn pizza places in DC were as screwed up as the ones
in Cleveland.

He opened the door a bit. "Look buddy we already..." The words cut off
when he saw the silencer-equipped gun leveled at him. He looked up into
the smiling face of a tall, muscular man sporting a dark crew cut. He
automatically started to reach for the gun tucked into his belt with one
hand as he shoved the door closed with the other. 

The man's hand came out to block the door as Eddie felt the punch in his
gut. Followed by wracking agony. In shock he looked down. Blood spread
in a dark blossom over his middle as he fell back.

No. His mind raged in denial even as dark spots swam before his eyes. No.
He had to protect Hope. He wasn't going to die like this. 

His killer stepped over him and headed for the back of the room. 

The bathroom door swung open. "Eddie what's..." 

Hope saw the man and her eyes darted to Eddie's leg, all she could see of
him lying on the floor on the other side of the bed.

She backed into the bathroom and slammed the door, setting the lock.

She frantically searched for a weapon. Any weapon.

The lock of the door exploded silently, accompanied only with splintering
wood.

Hope grabbed the only weapon on hand.

As the door swung open she drove the wooden end of the plunger at the
groin of her attacker. He crumpled over as her arm felt the jarring impact.
Pulling the plunger free she smashed it down over the back of his neck and
sprinted for the door.

Something caught her ankle like a vice and she screamed as she fell.

The gunman had her leg and was pulling her in. 

She kicked at him.

"Where's the file, bitch?" His voice was gravely.

She raised the plunger handle again only to have it intercepted by his arm.

The wall next to the man exploded loudly. Hope looked back to see Eddie,
weaving on his feet, a mass of wet redness covering his middle. His gun
held unsteady in his left hand.

She screamed again as she saw a second burst of red appear in Eddie's
chest. He fell back against the wall. Sliding down it and leaving a ghastly
smear of blood in his wake.

Pain exploded in the back of Hope's head, and the world went mercifully
black.

                                     #####

He pulled out at the sight of the door being pushed in. That damned fool!

The traffic of the highway was against him. He couldn't find a break. He
saw Cross emerge from the Inn, Hope slung limply over his shoulder. It
was too dim to make out much more. 

He didn't need more. How DARE he touch her? He made a silent vow,
then and there. Devon Cross was a dead man!

Where the HELL was all he cars coming from?

Cross was stuffing Hope into the trunk of his car. The fucking bastard! She
was afraid of small spaces. He'd take every fucking inch of skin off that
shithead before he killed him. 

Cross got into the driver's seat and closed the door as another car pulled
into the Inn's parking lot. A Wrangler.

Mulder and Scully got out, completely unaware of the man even now
driving away with his precious cargo.

Cursing the whim of fate he found an opening at last by almost ramming an
oncoming car and tearing off after Cross. 

                                     #####

"Mulder, the door is open." Scully had her gun out already and he had his
in hand without conscious thought.

They took positions and with a nod swung into the room, sweeping it. Him
high, her low.

The room had been completely trashed. It was empty except for the body.
Mulder fought down the surge of panic. No, not body. A feeble breath
rattled from the man slumped into a sitting position against the wall. Two
shots by the look of it, either one could prove fatal.

Scully spotted the man's limp right hand. "It's Kline." She was already on
her knees ripping open his shirt. "Call an ambulance, Mulder. He's still
alive. Barely."

Kline's eyes flickered open. "Mulder?" His voice was a weak whisper.

Mulder finished relaying the situation to the 911 dispatch operator and
went to one knee beside the wounded man. Kline's bloody hand grasped at
Mulder's trenchcoat lapel with surprising strength.

"Hope. He took Hope. Find him... stop him..." 

"Where? Where did he take Hope?" Mulder felt the panic renew itself and
fought it down only by transforming it into rage.

"Don't know. Tall... muscular... dark hair... crew cut... Werther ppk with
silencer... rectangle face..." Scully was applying pressure to the man's chest.
He didn't seem to feel her. Instead he blacked out again.

"Scully, stay with him. You have to wait for the ambulance. If he manages
to tell you any more then call me."

"Where are you going?" The look she gave him was alternately angry and
understanding.

"Car just pulled out of here. He couldn't have been gone long from Kline's
condition. I'm going to find that car. I have to do SOMETHING."

She nodded. She couldn't take the pressure off of Kline's chest wound. She
looked at the spot she held bare handed, fascinated for a moment by the
sight of the blood seeping over her engagement ring. She shivered at the
feeling of superstitious dread, unfounded and ridiculous, that surged
through her.

Mulder started toward the door. "Mulder, be careful."

He looked at her. His eyes telling her everything. "I will."

Then he was gone.

                                     #####

He managed to keep the car in sight, but once again traffic was conspiring
against him. He weaved through the other cars at a suicidal pace. Where
were all these people coming from? Where the hell were they all going at
this hour. He was ready to suspect a conspiracy.

He saw the car pull onto an off ramp up ahead just as he hit the tail end of
a traffic jam. Cursing he tried to pull onto the shoulder and ride it to the
ramp, but some other fucking idiot in a too-wide Caddy had tried that. 

He was stuck. He itched to take down every license plate around him and
send people to eliminate the idiots in the world. Improve the human race.
But he didn't have time for such idle thoughts. Cross was getting away.

What was in the direction he was heading? Then it hit him. The warehouse.
It was a site often used for unpleasant interrogations and potentialities due
to its relative isolation.

If he couldn't get to Hope he knew someone who had to. He'd kill Cross
later.

He slapped open his glovebox and extracted a scrambler and a voice
modulator then dialed his cell phone.

                                     #####

"Mulder. Scully, how's he doing?"

Mulder kept to the highway. Traffic was slowing down though.

"Get off the highway. There is a roadblock. He's going to the abandoned
Kelworks Factory." The voice was electronically disguised.

"What? Who are you? What the hell is going on?" Mulder swerved to
avoid hitting some early eighties-style Pontiac most likely being driven by
someone in their early eighties.

"None of that is important. What is important is: can you live with yourself
if she dies because you didn't listen to me?" The line went dead.

Mulder thumbed a number he knew by heart. No the question was could he
live with himself if she died because he listened to an anonymous voice on
the phone.

"Danny? I need a trace on the last phone to dial into this number. Yeah, I
need it right away." He pulled off the nearest ramp and headed for the
Kelworks Factory. Using back roads was going to take longer though.

"What do you mean piggybacked? Ok, print it all out. I want a hard copy
to look over later. Thanks, I owe you." He snapped his phone shut angrily.

                                     #####

Hope was first aware of the throbbing of her head. She could feel her
whole skull expand and contract with her heartbeat. It hurt. It hurt bad. 

Unfortunately the next awareness was that she was in the dark. A darkness
that smelled of gasoline and oil. She tried to move her hands but they were
secured behind her back. She fought the binding, discovering herself too
securely held by what could only be duct tape. Was there a special section
in the hardware store that had weekend sales on duct tape for wackos?

She felt the world around her vibrating. The sounds of a car. She panicked
and tried to sit up, only to bang her already sore head against the hood of
the trunk. She wasn't gagged. She was in a tight closed place, a car trunk.
She struggled to breathe. Air, could air get in? Didn't trapped air stay in
trunks of cars when the vehicle was submerged in water? Didn't that mean
they were air tight? 

Oh God, she was going to die in a small, dark hole. She didn't have the
strength to scream, only to whimper. Each heartbeat the space in the trunk
got smaller. Her breath grew more rapid and shallow. She couldn't think,
couldn't plan, she was aware of nothing but the stifling darkness, the
smothering tightness. She was in Hell again, and this time there was no
rescue worker to save her. 

She tried valiantly to fend off the attack of raw fear, of primal panic that
clawed its way from the depths of her soul. It was a losing battle. She
curled into herself as much as she could and began to keen. A lost sound. A
mourning sound that ate up the little gasps of struggling breath she'd
managed to take.

Something cool touched her back. Stroked over her cheek, her forehead.
She was only partly aware of it. Some small part of her mind not
completely occupied by the panic did register it though, and took in the
soft scent of lilacs that filled the trunk, chasing away the oil and gas smell.
Wether she could actually hear a tuneless humming or just the car's engine
combining with her own soft keening she would never know. But the scent,
the touch, brought with it some comfort. Something warm and familiar and
peaceful. She felt... at home.

As the panic began to slowly recede, she felt the car stop. Heard crunching
footsteps. The hood of the trunk was suddenly flung open and a bright light
shone into her face.

"You and me are gonna have a little fun, baby doll." She felt something jab
into her leg, through her jeans and she cried out as an acidic burn flowed
through her. He'd injected her with something. What?

She didn't have time to question as she was roughly yanked out of the
trunk and into the blessedly open night. She screamed then, praying
someone, anyone could hear her.

"Shut up. If you scream yourself hoarse you can't answer my questions."
The man shook her. "You'll have plenty of time to scream, later."



Chapter 14 - And what is light without the dark? 
--------------

Scully moved to allow the EMT's to work around her. "I'm a medical
doctor." It was all they needed to hear. 

"Two gunshots. One to the chest cavity, possible damage to the heart, but
no observable breathing problems associated with a punctured lung. One
perforation of the abdomen. Definite perforation of the large intestine and
possibly to the kidney. Keep pressure on this chest wound and take
immediate precautions against sepsis. I want..."

She shot off orders rapidly as the EMT's fitted Kline with a mask and
attached an electrocardiograph. They moved him to a gurney and wheeled
him out to the waiting ambulance as they worked frantically to keep him
alive long enough to reach the hospital.

                                     #####

Hope was dragged inside the dark, dank-looking warehouse, through a
maze of twisted pipes and warped machinery oddly reminiscent of an
Aliens movie.

She was more alarmed at what she was feeling than at the prospect of
dying.

She was warm, feverish, and everything around her had started to move in
slow motion. At the same time she was extremely aware. She could smell
the rust and mildew, the rot and decay of this place. Every detail of the
machinery observable only by moonlight filtering through broken windows
was imprinted on her brain.

The pain of the grip on her arm as the nameless man dragged her after him,
the realization that her feet weren't completely in synch with what she was
ordering them to do.

She saw the room completely as she was pulled into it. Her captor palmed
a light switch and it was lit by three bright, bare, light bulbs dangling from
the ceiling.

A plain wooden chair sat in the center of the room. She was shoved
roughly into the seat and the man taped her feet to the legs. She tried to
kick at him, but she. like the world, was moving so slowly. She regretted
never trying recreational pharmaceuticals in high school now, only because
it might have given her some point of reference. Someplace to draw from.
Some hint at what the drug in her system might do next.

"What did you..." The question slipped out for no other reason then
because she wanted to know.

"Inject you with? An interesting little chemical cocktail, highly classified.
Its main base is sodium pentothal, although it tends to work a little better
then its base. You know, the whole being greater then the sum of its parts."
The man looked pleased with himself.

"Fuck you." Her head felt so heavy. She let it drop.

"How nice of you to offer. I intend to. But first a little Q&A time. Where
were you taking the files?"

"What files?" She forced her head to raise up, to meet the bastard's eyes. 

He was smiling. "Excellent. You intend to fight me. I'll win in the end, but
it will make the game that much sweeter. The files your father stole from
Delmark, my dear. The ones you have no real use for."

"Oh... those files." She chuckled a bit. "Didn't know where to take them." 

Where had that come from? She hadn't intended to tell him that.

"You had to have some idea. After all you came all the way to DC from
Cleveland. Not exactly aimless wandering now is it?" He had pulled out a
knife. A Bowie, part of her mind registered. 

"Lookin' for my father." She mumbled. She didn't want to say that. She
hated that she said that. She felt defeated.

"Your father is dead, little girl. I put the bullet in his brain myself. You're
holding out better then I thought." The knife slashed and Hope gasped,
flinching.

The knife had opened her bright red t-shirt from neck to jeans. He reached
forward to flick the tip of the blade against the place where her bra's front
hook was secured to the fabric. A few more movements of the knife
against shirt seams and bra straps and she was naked from the waist up.
Her shirt and bra just useless scraps on the floor.

She felt humiliated. No one had ever seen her like this before. She felt a
tear slide down her cheek. 

She cried out as the knife scraped over her cheek, catching the tear but not
drawing blood. 

"Why were you going to DC?" He asked again. He was in front of her, his
breath foul in her face. He openly leered at her nakedness and she felt the
fear return to the pit of her stomach.

"Was a... adopted." She stuttered. She was visibly shaking now, and hated
the loss of control. She didn't want him to see her fear. 

"Adopted? I see. So you were in DC looking for your father... your... real
father." The knife blade danced and scraped over her breasts and belly,
blood seeped up in a few shallow cuts. She didn't know if he'd meant to cut
her yet. She looked down in fascination at the sight of her own blood.

The madman with the knife ran a fingertip over her ribs, tracing one of the
fine lines of blood. He raised the bloody finger to his lips and licked the
salty redness from the tip.

"So who is your real father?"

Hope ground her teeth together. She would not speak. She refused to. The
knife flashed again and a cry escaped her lips as a deep slash appeared on
her left breast, just above the nipple. 

"Talk to me darlin' or I'll cut your tits off without ever thinking about it."

"M...Mulder. Fox William Mulder." She stuttered out. The pain was
intense. She didn't want to die yet. Not like this. Not cut apart by some
animal.

"So where did you hide the files?"

She clamped her lips shut again. Prepared for the next slash of the knife.
She felt the knife scrape against the tight denim of her jeans, over the
crotch. 

"We both know I'm gonna kill you anyway. And we both know I'm gonna
fuck your little brains out. You get to decided right here and now on
weather that comes before or after, and if you die quick and clean or slow
and painful. Now where are the files?"

She swallowed hard, trying not to vomit. What had Karen said? Take
yourself out of your body. Don't let the bastard touch you, only your body.
Karen. Tough little hard-as-nails Karen, her college roommate. She'd told
Hope tales of horror once. Because Hope had asked. And in listening,
Hope had learned.

The next slash didn't come as she heard the squeal of tires and blown up
gravel outside. Someone was here!

Unfortunately, wacko knew it too. "Looks like we move this party." He cut
her feet free and proceeded to drag her up a flight of stairs.

                                     #####

Mulder saw the other car immediately. It matched the one that had pulled
away from the Inn as they'd arrived. His heart pounded fiercely in his chest.

He had his gun out and ready. He approached the car cautiously. No one
inside. His eyes flickered to the trunk. He was reaching for it when he
heard the scream. It was a shrill, woman's scream coming from inside the
warehouse.

He looked up and saw a pale figure move past the door. A flicker out of
the corner of his eye, lasting no more then a fraction of a second.

He ran to the building at a crouch. He was breathing heavily when he
swung inside the door, ready for the first gunshot. None came.

Another flicker up ahead. A hint of something pale in the darkness.
"Freeze, Federal Officer." He called at the retreating form.

It didn't stop, it just faded into the blackness. 

Running at a crouch, moving from one outcrop of pipe or machinery to
another, he gave chase. As he followed he could swear he smelled flowers.

The aisle he'd been following ended at a single door. It was closed. 

He kicked it open with everything he had in him. and entered at a roll,
making a small, moving target. Nothing. The room was empty. However, it
was lit. Bare light bulbs swung from the ceiling. A wooden chair was
overturned in the center of the room. He took in the duct tape still attached
to the legs, crudely slashed. beside the chair was a pile of cloth. 

He toed at the material and felt his heart freeze when he discovered it had
once been a shirt and bra. A single drop of blood lay in the dust by the
chair.

Movement again. There was a staircase against one wall, at the top of it
was a door. Someone had just gone through the door.

He raced up the stairs, praying to a deity he wasn't sure even existed that
he wasn't too late.

Flinging open that door he saw them ahead. The door led to a catwalk, it
was three stories above the shadowed warehouse floor below. In the
middle of the catwalk was a tall body-builder type with a dark crew cut.
His arm was clinched around the neck of a young woman. She was naked
from the waist up, and he was pretty sure he saw something wet gleaming
on her chest. 

The man held the girl before him, between himself and Mulder, but his gun
was aimed right at Mulder's head. It was a draw, as Mulder had a similar
bead on him. His aim was unwavering while the rest of his body shook with
fury. 

Mulder's eyes flickered to the girl again. Only to meet the terrified gaze of
his own eyes looking back at him. 

Hope. This was Hope. He'd found her at last. And this bastard was NOT
going to walk away with her.



Chapter 15 - To savor the sun there must be rain
--------------

Hope was afraid. She was very afraid. But it was a different fear than the
full grown panic attack of closed in places. 

No, now her fear was of the man behind her, holding her in a death grip,
and for the man before her. Each step her Captor retreated, dragging her
along, The man before them advanced. A slow dance. A waltz of death.
Someone was going to die here. 

The moonlight came through six broken skylights above them. The moon
was close to full, she realized in some detached part of her brain. One shaft
of light fully illuminated the man before them, bathing them in silvery light.
The sight closed off her throat more then her captor's arm did. 

This was the grown up version of the boy whose image was captured
forever in a handful of Polaroids in her purse. He was no longer all knees
and elbows, he didn't look like a geek. He looked like the wrath of God
himself. 

This was her father.

His eyes darted from her captor to her. Their gazes met and locked. He
knew. She didn't know how, or why, but he knew who she was. He knew
how they were connected. She was as certain of this as she was of her own
name.

His whole body was tense with rage. He shook with it. The moonlight
revealed a muscle twitching along his jaw. She knew that meant he was on
the verge of losing it. She knew because she had the same muscle twitch
when her temper was about to go through the roof. But for all this, his gun
never wavered. It didn't shake, but held a steady course. Her gaze broke
from his and she found herself looking down the barrel of that gun. He had
seemed so far away on the catwalk, but the small circle of darkness seemed
way too close.

"Federal Officer. Drop the gun and let the girl go." His voice was tight, but
authoritative. A bit raspier then she'd imagined.

"I don't think so. She too much fun to play with. You aren't about to shoot
her. And she's such a lovely insurance policy." The voice in her ear made
her want to vomit again. She fought it.

Her captor was using her as a shield. Agent Mulder wouldn't shoot for fear
of hitting her. However HE was right out in the open. His brains must be
scrambled!

Her captor pulled her further back, they were now past the wall to their
right and out in the open. To either side was nothing. There was only the
catwalk, and down.

She felt her captor's gun arm tighten and she knew, knew in her heart he
was going to fire.

If her arms were free she'd try to push his gun arm up, making the shot go
wild. Unable to do that, Hope provided the only distraction she could and
prayed Agent Mulder would use it. 

She allowed herself to go completely limp, letting the man choke her as her
body's weight dragged at his arm, his side, making him lose a fraction of
balance. 

The sudden shift did waver his attention for a second. 

She heard a sharp crack and felt the man behind her twitch. Hot wetness
poured down her back. His grip on her tightened as he toppled against the
waist heigh railing of the catwalk. She screamed as he began to fall. She
braced her legs and fought back, but he was so heavy,and he wouldn't let
go. She looked down into the darkness below.

                                     #####

Mulder realized he had no cover. He couldn't let his gaze falter to look for
any, either. Not after one look into Hope's terrified eyes. If he had to kill
the bastard he would, but he wasn't going to allow him to leave with Hope.

They had backed beyond the wall that separated the room downstairs from
this part of the warehouse. 

Hope met his eyes again, seeming to search for something before she
seemed to faint, going limp in the arm of her kidnapper.

No sooner had the man's attention wavered for a fraction to the girl he held
then half the man's head disappeared in a spray of blood, and explosion of
bone. 

Mulder didn't have time to look for the shooter. To his horror the dead
man retained his grip on Hope and was toppling over the railing.

He heard her screaming as he ran the four steps to her. He just managed to
grab her arm, pulling her and the corpse behind her back to the security of
the catwalk.

He spun quickly to scan for the shooter, but that end of the warehouse was
lost completely in shadow. Nothing, he could see nothing. Which meant the
shooter could still be there, and he might have been aiming for Hope.

Mulder checked the girl again. He went to one knee beside her.

"Get him OFF me." She managed through clenched teeth. She looked very
pale in the faint light. Her eyes were large and glazed.

Mulder pried the stiff arm away from her and she squirmed away, unable to
get up to balance with her hands taped behind her.

He pulled her to her feet and half ran with her to the cover of the wall. She
stopped there, leaning against the concrete wall, her breath coming in little
pants.

She slid down the wall. She was shaking. In shock, she was in shock.

He pulled out his pocket knife and flipped it open. She saw the flash of
blade and shrank back with a whimper.

"It's alright. I won't let them hurt you again." He was surprised at the
conviction in his own voice. He reached behind her and urged her to turn
so he could cut her hands free.

That done he slipped off his trenchcoat and draped it around her
nakedness. 

Hope's eyes were darting everywhere.

"He... he stuck me with somethin'... said it had a pentothal base... I feel
funny. Wide awake but tired..."

Mulder pulled his cell phone from his pocket and dialed 911 for the second
time that night.

"I need an ambulance at the Kelworks warehouse in Alexandria. Yeah, the
old industrial road. We have a white female, seventeen, she's been forcibly
injected with an unknown combination of drugs. Inform the police there is
also a body here. No, I'm with the FBI." He gave his badge number,
growing more irritated with each word. "Just send the damn ambulance."

"It's on its way sir. We received another call two minutes before yours. Just
hang on, their ETA is three minutes."

Mulder didn't stop to wonder at that bit of information. Hope was fading
out.

He bent to pick her up. She wasn't very heavy. He carried her down into
the well lit room.

Laying her on the floor, he examined her. Her hair and back were coated
with her assailant's blood, now soaking into his coat. 

"How badly are you cut?" He asked, trying to keep her focused.

"Not too bad... except my... my chest. It... burns. Hurts." She tried to sit up
and failed.

"I have to take a look, I don't want you to bleed to death." Mulder moved
to open the coat but she grabbed his wrist. 

"No. It'll be ok." Her hand moved to touch his cheek. "I feel cold."

"You're in shock." He told her as he turned to pull the chair closer. He
propped her feet on it. 

"Fox Mulder. All the ways... I imagined... meeting you. This... wasn't
among... them."

"You know who I am?" He was surprised. Scully was convinced she'd
come looking for him, but to know him on sight?

"Mother left... pictures." Hope's eyes fluttered closed.

"Stay with me, Hope. Hang in there." He clasped her hand. He wasn't
going to lose her now.

"You know what?" Her eyes flicked open and her mouth turned up in a
lovely smile. "I'm glad I got... mom's nose." 

Her eyes drifted closed again as he heard the far off cry of the ambulance
and police sirens.

                                     #####

Alexandria Hospital 
4203 Seminary Road 
Alexandria, VA

Scully saw them arrive. 

The first thing she noticed was the gurney. Two EMT's wheeled it past her,
crashing through the ER doors to her left. She had only caught a glimpse.
A very pale, wraithlike girl, her long, dark hair spread out against the
pillow except where the oxygen mask's elastic pinned it to her head. The
mask hid her features completely. Her eyes were closed and she'd been
hooked up to an IV. A gray blanket was thrown over her body, but Scully
saw evidence of a lot of blood.

She hadn't really registered the girl on the passing gurney as important until
she saw Mulder, following the wheeled bed and being denied access to the
ER the doors led to.

"Look, I'm a Federal Agent, that girl is a federal witness, her life is in
danger and I'm not letting her out of my sight." He was shoving his badge
into the orderly's face even as he pushed him aside.

Scully gripped her burden tightly as she dug out her badge and followed,
shoving the ID under the orderly's nose she stated simply, "I'm with him."

Mulder hadn't even noticed her. He'd been too intent on following the
gurney. She found him, however, standing in a corner while a doctor and
two nurses set up another IV and started to draw blood from their
unconscious patient.

"Mulder?" She tentatively put her hand on his shoulder and noticed his
trench coat was gone and his dress shirt was covered with blood.
"Ohmygod..."

"I was almost too late, Scully." The blank expression on his face and the
deadness of his voice alarmed her. "But at least one thing came of this...
she has red blood. Not green." 

He leaned back against the wall, closing his eyes as if unable to watch the
procedures before him.

"What happened?" She pulled a plastic chair over and made him sit down.

"He injected her with something. I don't know what. It looks like... he was
TORTURING her, Scully. She had all these little cuts, one pretty bad.
Jesus." He rubbed a hand down his face. "Musta' heard me coming. He was
trying to make a run for it with her. Used her as a shield. There was
someone else there. I don't know who, or why, but the guy's head just
exploded. Almost took her over the edge with him."

"How much of that blood is hers?" She heard herself asking.

"Not that much. Enough though, enough. She was so scared, Scully. She
was scared but... she trusted me. She knew who I was. She'd been through
Hell and she trusted me."

"Of course she did, Mulder." She couldn't add 'you're her father', not yet.
They had to be absolutely sure first.

"Agents?" They looked up at the ER doctor as he spoke.

"We've gotten the preliminary blood screen back as we didn't know what
she'd been injected with." He held a clipboard and scanned it. "Nothing in
itself lethal, I'm glad to report. We are concerned about the trace amount of
cocaine we are fairly certain was part of the solution. She was suffering
from shock and some blood loss. We're going to have to ask you to wait
outside while we have a plastic surgeon come in and suture the worst of
her wounds. And we're going to need some information off of you."

They moved with the doctor into the hall as a curtain was pulled around
the gurney.

"She'll be staying here until we are certain the chemicals are out of her
system. I'm also going to suggest counseling. She will most likely need help
dealing with this." The doctor handed Mulder a second clip board. "Just fill
this out and we'll set up a room for her.

Mulder looked blankly at the paper. The standard Hospital admittance
form. He felt a humorless laugh escape him.

"I don't know any of this." His eyes darted over the words. "Is she allergic
to anything? Does she have insurance? Medical History... I know
absolutely nothing."

Scully saw what was happening and took charge. First she took the
clipboard from him and started to wield the pencil.

"Yes, you do. Name: Hope Maria Jamison. Birthdate: February 10th, 1979.
Next of kin..." she looked up to meet his eyes briefly, for once not sure
what she saw there, "Fox William Mulder." Scully continued to fill out
more lines. "Our coverage has a family plan, Mulder. You better get used
to that. Once we figure out this whole mess we'll get the paperwork done.
But for now it will do."

"As soon as she's well enough... I want a paternity test done. I have to be
SURE, Scully."

She nodded. "I know. So do I. I'll arrange it. But until then I'm going to
believe my eyes. I think you already have. You heard the doctor, Mulder.
She's going to be all right."

"Physically." He added, only then noticing what Scully had tucked under
her arm.

"What is that?"

Scully's mouth turned up into a sad smile. "This is a teddy bear. I'm
assuming this is who Mr. Pookie is. Kline wasn't really with it, he kept
fading in and out. He did managed to say that Hope would need her Mr.
Pookie. But after that he also said that Elvis has left the building. You'll
like him, Mulder."

"He's alive?" His eyebrows shot up.

"For now." her face became guarded again. "He's still in surgery. It'll be a
few more hours. I was able to learn the bullet clipped his heart. I also found
a business card on him. Hard to make out covered in blood but it was one
of ours. Or rather an FBI one. I called the agent named. Hellen Matthews.
She's upstairs in the surgery waiting room."

Mulder nodded and took the ragged, balding, one eyed stuffed bear. It
looked like it, too, had been through heart surgery once in its life. It was
worn and pathetic, and obviously much loved. "Thanks, Scully. When she
wakes up I'm sure Hope will be happy to have it with her."



Chapter 16 - 'ere we come home, must embark. 
--------------

Scully looked through the window of the ICU at the two figures. One
prone, the other sitting silently grasping the prone figure's hand.

Eddie Kline had been in surgery for five hours. It was still touch and go but
the doctors were optimistic. Hellen Matthews was in with him now. She
was allowed five minutes every hour. She'd gotten that only by claiming to
be his fiance'. 

Scully didn't know Hellen all that well. She'd seen her around, but it was
Mulder the other woman had worked with on occasion way back when. 

Scully hoped Eddie recovered. Because it looked like there was someone
waiting for him. 

She sighed and started yet another leisurely stroll through the hospital
hallways. 

Mulder had wanted to be alone with Hope. He hadn't said it in words, but
she sensed that need in him. He needed that much at least, so she had told
him she was going for a walk to check in on Kline after she woke up. Well
after letting Mulder know she'd woken up. It was early morning and she'd
spent five hours last night curled up on the empty bed in Hope's room.
She'd been so tired she couldn't fight it. She had awakened sick to her
stomach yet again. She lay perfectly still and watched Mulder as he
watched Hope. The girl had still not revived. The blood work they took
every two hours had shown the drug was leaving her system, though.

Now, her duty done with Kline, she was free to wander.

She didn't know if it was coincidence or some magnetic attraction that
brought her before a second window. This one looked in on rows of small
bassinets. Most were empty but there were five infants sleeping in pink and
blue colored receiving blankets. They were all so tiny. So fragile. So
completely helpless. Her hand smoothed down her front. Nothing to show
yet, no hint that in seven months one of those little sparks of life would be
hers. Hers and Mulders. 

She was scared. Oh, she knew full well she wanted this child. She'd do all
she could to give it its best chance... but so many things could go wrong. 

She hadn't told Mulder she'd already scheduled an amniocentesis in two
more months, or her insistence on bi-weekly ultrasounds. Next week she'd
be seeing a trustworthy high risk pregnancy specialist whose name Megan
had given her.

He didn't need to know that yet. Not when he had Hope to worry about.
And right now she feared that if she shared her fears with him, their weight
added to his other burdens, might crush him.

They still had no answers on what had been done to her during those three
missing months, or if it could effect her baby. No guarantee that any of the
biological or toxilogical hazards they had faced might not have some
hithertofore unknown effect of either of their reproductive systems.

She felt alone in these fears. Her inability to share them right now left her
feeling more isolated than she had in almost a year.

And damnit, she was more than a little angry and jealous as well. Yet, there
was no one she could truly blame. No one to lash out at. It hurt. It hurt a
lot. After the shock and before the fear had set in, she'd been so happy. She
was going to give Mulder a child. She was going to present him with
something no one else could. 

She balled her fist against the glass and pressed her forehead against the
coolness. 

But someone had. Mulder had a daughter. A child that was only his. Well,
maybe not a child anymore, but it was an oportunity stolen. It sent a pain
through her heart. One that had to be carefully hidden. Hidden because it
wasn't Mulder's fault that he hadn't known, and it certainly wasn't Hope's
fault for being born. 

And now he was alone with her. He had wanted to be alone with her.
Already she was coming between them. Scully was certain that Hope
would never really drive a wedge. She knew Mulder loved her,
unconditionally. It was greed, she realized. She'd held Mulder's undivided
attention for nine months, longer than that. Almost five years really. But
now his focus had shifted. He hadn't shut her out, but he'd invited Hope in. 

It was senseless to be resentful and jealous over a teenager who right now
was lying in a hospital bed after going through Hell. It wasn't fair. It wasn't
fair to Hope. It wasn't fair to Mulder. But, damnit, the whole situation
wasn't fair to HER, either. 

Directionless anger was unhealthy. She knew this. She needed an outlet as
surely as Mulder did. It was best to focus on the men who were after
Hope. Shift the anger to them. Maybe relieve some of it. Maybe.
Hopefully. Because Scully didn't want to end up hating Hope. If she did,
she might end up hating herself.

Trailing her fingers over the cold, smooth glass of the nursery window one
last time she turned back to seek out Hope's room.

                                     #####

Mulder had dozed off, but became instantly awake at the whimper from the
occupant of the hospital bed before him. 

Hope's eyes were moving rapidly under their lids, and her body twitched. A
fine sweat had broken on her brow. Nightmare. How long was she going to
have them after this? For the rest of her life? To the point where she fought
the need for sleep on a regular basis just to escape the dreams? 

He reached out and took her hand in his, giving it a light squeeze.

Her eyes snapped open and she was looking right at him, pinning him to
the chair.

"Um... hi." Completely inadequate, but all he could summon at the
moment.

"Hi..." her voice was rough, "think I could get some water?"

He nodded and stuck a straw into the plastic cup already waiting by the
bed, then passed it to her. She drank slowly.

"How long have I been out?"

Mulder looked at his watch. "About twelve hours. Between the drugs and
the shock they told me it wasn't that unusual."

"You stayed here all that time?" She looked surprised.

He shrugged. He'd missed too much time already. "How are you feeling?"

"Like shit. My stomach isn't too good and... um... I think I need a pain
killer." Her hand drifted up to almost touch her chest, hesitated, then
dropped again. She looked down at the hospital gown she wore. She was
bandaged up underneath it. "Oh great, as if they weren't small enough they
go tie 'em down so I'm almost a board. Sheesh."

She looked up to see Mulder actually blushing. "What? That blush better
be because I inherited my figure from YOUR side of the family. Mom
looked like she was built." 

"You certainly... have a way with words." He shook his head. "I'll call a
nurse about that pain killer."

"Don't bother. I got it." She thumbed the call button at her side. "Yeah, my
dad used to say I tend to let my mouth vent my brain." She smiled briefly
but it faded, and a sadness settled over her.

"Was he a good father?" Mulder could no more stop from asking than
shield himself from the pain any answer would bring.

"The best." Her lips twitched up a bit. "He was the best. Didn't put up with
any of my crap, but encouraged me, ya know. He came close to spoiling
me rotten at times, but he knew how to make me appreciate earning things
for myself. He was... the sweetest, most honorable person I've known. And
I was his world after momma died." She shook her head. "You don't have
to worry about that. I've had a good life."

Mulder nodded. Not trusting his voice. His throat stung. He was jealous
and thankful all at once. 

"You're awake." The voice in the doorway turned both of their heads.

"Hope, this is Dana Scully... my partner." Mulder gestured to the petite
woman who had just entered the room.

"Nice to meet you Ms. Scully." Hope held out her hand and Dana shook it.

"You might be glad to know that Eddie Kline is hanging in there. He's in
the ICU, but the doctors are looking hopeful."

Hope bit her bottom lip and swallowed hard before nodding. "Thanks. I... I
thought he was dead." Silent tears slipped down her cheeks. "I thought
I'd... killed him."

Scully shook her head, already noticing similarities between the girl on the
bed and Mulder. "You didn't kill him, Hope. You didn't pull the trigger.
You are just as much a victim in this as he is."

"He wouldn't have been here at all if I hadn't run to him."

"I'm glad you did." Mulder spoke up at last. "I'm glad you had somewhere
to run to. I'm glad Kline was there for you."

Hope nodded silently then reached up to scratch at her hair. "I feel icky." 

She looked at her hand and began to shake. A flaky brownness was under
her nails. All at once it crashed into her. She began to shake. She couldn't
look away from the dried blood under her nails. 

"Hope?" Mulder sounded worried.

"He's on me. Oh God, he's on me, all over me. I gotta get him off. I can't
keep him on me." Her words began to run together .

Scully left the room to find the nurse immediately as Mulder tried to calm
Hope down. She flinched away from his touch and scampered back on the
bed, pulling her knees up to her chest and wrapping her arms around them,
even though he knew that position had to have hurt her. She buried her
face in her knees and began to sob.

He knew what it was, and it didn't make it any easier. Post Traumatic
Stress. She'd been through Hell in the last few days, the last twenty four
hours especially. It had just caught up with her. 

"Scully went to get a nurse. I'll make sure you get a bath and your hair
washed. We'll get him off you. He's off you. He can't hurt you again."
Mulder's hands clenched and unclenched at his sides. She didn't want to be
touched as much as he wanted to touch her, to hold her and promise to
make everything better. But he couldn't. 

Two nurses arrived with Scully and both Mulder and Scully were chased
from the room. A few minutes later one of the women emerged from the
room and approached them. "We called her doctor and got the ok to give
her a sponge bath and let her wash her hair in the sink. He doesn't want to
administer a sedative until her system is completely cleared out, which
according to the steady rate of her improving bloodwork will be about
three more hours."

Twenty minutes later they were allowed back into the room. Hope sat up in
the bed. Her hair was wet from washing and she was holding the teddy
bear Scully had retrieved from the hotel room. She looked embarrassed.

"I'm sorry about that. I don't know what happened."

"It's ok. You've been through a lot lately." Mulder offered the chair to
Scully and chose to lean against the wall.

She lifted the bear and wiggled it. "Whose responsible for this?"

Mulder inclined his head to Scully. Hope smiled brightly at Dana. 

"Thanks. You have no idea how much this means to me." She sat it on her
lap then looked at them both. "So what happens now?"

"Hopefully you'll be discharged once your blood work is cleared. Then we
have to go to the office and talk to our boss. After that, we find you a safe
place to stay." Mulder answered.

"Not with you?" Hope managed to keep the disappointment from her face,
but not her voice. 

"Not... yet. The people who are after you may have put one and one
together, in which case they'll be watching my place, and Scully's.
However... I think I know just the place for you."

Scully looked up at Mulder. Hope watched in wonder as a whole
conversation seemed to take place without a single spoken word. In that
instant she understood something. That Dana Scully was much more than
her father's work partner. 

"Oh no. Mulder, you can't be serious." Scully's words broke Hopes reverie.

"What?" Hope asked.

"Why not? Who else can we trust to watch out for her? Who else has what
it takes if they find Hope before we clear this up?" 

Hope felt like she'd been locked out of the room. "WHAT?"

They both looked at her, as if momentarily startled to see her there. Then
Mulder smiled.

"A friend of ours. She should be able to keep you safe while we try to find
out what's going on."

"Oh wonderful." Hope rolled her eyes. "By the way, in case you two are
the least bit interested I've got the files my dad died for."

Well, that worked. She was immediately the focus of their full attention,
and it was decidedly unnerving.

"Where?" Both asking at once. Did they practice that?

"Hidden in the drop ceiling of the laundrymat of the hotel Eddie and I were
at." Hope grinned. "I really doubt anyone would have looked there."

Mulder and Scully looked from her to each other then softly chuckled.

"She has a point, Mulder. I'd never have guessed it in a million years."

"So... why don't you two go GET it? I'm gonna be here for a few more
hours at least. I want to try and sleep a bit more, and I doubt I can do that
with you two acting like vultures."

Mulder shook his head. "No. I'm on you like glue until I hand you over to
Jackie's safe keeping."

Scully was surprised. Mulder was going to wait? While the evidence he
was after just sat around? She looked sidelong at Hope, and wondered if he
even realized how much the girl had changed his life in a few short hours.

"Fine but can you, like, wait outside or something? I really won't be able to
sleep with you standing over me and staring at me like you expect me to
grow horns or gills or something." Hope scooted back down on the bed
and pulled up the sheet.

"I suppose we could go get something to eat. Would you like us to bring
you back something?" Scully spoke up when it looked like Mulder might
object. The poor girl needed some time to adjust.

"Ick, hospital food. I guess some boxed corn flakes and milk would be
harmless, but don't go for the eggs. They grow them in a petri dish." Hope
curled up and closed her eyes to get her point across.

"Corn flakes it is. Come on, Mulder. She won't be going anywhere for the
length of time it takes us to get breakfast. I'm not supposed to skip meals,
remember."

Mulder nodded. "I CAN take a hint you know. Hope, just yell for a nurse if
you need us."

The girl waved at them as they left the room.

Sleep did not come though. Hope tried thinking of nothing, tried to relax
and drift. She was so tired, yet the sandman was being elusive. Fifteen
minutes after Mulder and Scully had left she heard the door open again.

"I told you I can't sleep with you staring." She turned to face them and
gasped.

"Hello, Hope. I'm glad to see you're recovering so well." 

"You! Get out. I don't know who you are and right now I don't give a
flying fuck. Just leave me the hell alone." She sat up and the sudden move
made her wince as her stitches pulled.

"Such language is hardly becoming of a lady. And I'm here to offer you a
deal."

"You can take you deals and shove them up your..."

"The files for a promise of non interference in the life of your future
sibling." He smiled tightly. 

Hope just sat there for a few seconds. "What?"

"The lovely Agent Scully is pregnant, with your brother or sister. Things
can become very... unpleasant for her. Pregnancies are precarious things.
All sorts of tragedies can happen."

"You son of a bitch." Hope gripped Mr. Pookie so tichtly her knuckles had
gone white.

"Possibly. But I can make guaranties. Certain parties will not in any way
interfere with Agent Scully's pregnancy, nor in the life of the child once it's
born, all that for the price of a few sheets of paper. Quite a good deal,
really."

"I wouldn't trust you any further then I could spit at you." 

His smile was actually a trifle sad. "I don't blame you. But I have never lied
to you, Hope. Not to you. I don't plan on starting now. I can get you out of
some troubles, but others are beyond even me." 

He slipped out the door, leaving Hope feeling sick inside.

What if he WAS telling the truth? If he was, how had he found out?

His parting words left her feeling more nauseous than the rest as similar
words played back in her memory. <I'll get you out, Hope. I'll always get
you out.> Her mind now supplied the missing fragment of memory, what
she had smelled under coal dust, dirt and mildew. The odor of her rescuer's
cigarettes.



Chapter 17 - Of fear and pain our estate
--------------

Mulder and Scully re-entered the room quietly, but Hope was still awake.
She was sitting up, staring out the window. Her room had a view of a park.
She appeared to be watching the children on the playground.

"I thought you were gonna try and sleep." 

She looked around at Mulder's voice ans saw Scully deposit a single serve
box of corn flakes, pint of milk and styrofoam bowl on the tray near her
bed.

"I think I'm turning into an insomniac." Hope sighed and looked back out
the window, ignoring the food. "You wouldn't believe what creeps up on
you when you close your eyes."

"Yeah, I would. And insomnia is NOT a recommended lifestyle." Mulder
sat on the empty bed, leaving the seat for Scully.

Hope turned to face Mulder. "Ok, we've been dancing around it. What am I
supposed to call you? Mr. Mulder? Agent Mulder? Fox? I hardly know you
yet, so Dad just wouldn't feel right, to either of us."

Mulder winced. "Just Mulder. No one call's me Fox." He shot Scully a
warning glare which she answered with a tiny smile. "And Mr. Mulder was
my father. That brings up another point..." Mulder looked down at his
hands, unsure how to continue.

"What Mulder is so eloquently trying to say is, we'd like both of you to
undergo a paternity test. We have to be sure, Hope. There have been other
instances in our lives when someone has claimed to be... someone they
were not in order to manipulate Mulder, or undermine his work." Scully
cut in and smiled briefly at the thankful look Mulder gave her.

Hope frowned. "Really? Why would someone want to do that?" She shook
her head sadly. "Alright. They've already poked me more then I'd like to
think about, what's one more?"

Mulder got up to stand beside Hope, his fingers reached out to brush
against the silver charm bracelet she wore. "I noticed this while I was
waiting for you to wake up."

"Mom left it for me. This and some pictures of you and her, and her
journal. She wrote that you gave her this." Her arm rose to let the tiny
charms twinkle in the sunlight. 

"Yeah. I bought the bracelet and the first three charms for her birthday.
The rest came sporadically, as we went somewhere or did something and I
found them. I'll have to tell you what they all meant one day."

Hope smiled. "I'd like that." 

The doctor arrived in the room shortly after to announce Hope's system
free of contaminants. He frowned at the request for a paternity test, but
given that both parties agrees to it he ordered it done. 

When the nurse arrived to draw the blood samples Scully ordered two vials
from each of them. One set to be tested through the hospital and another
set to be tested by 'outside sources'.

                                     #####

Mulder wheeled Hope into the ICU. Hellen had given up this hour's five
minute allotment to the girl. Hope was fully clothed again, due to Scully's
foresight in bringing a change of clothing with the teddy bear.

She felt her eyes fill with tears at the sight of Eddie. He had tubes and
wires all over. He looked so pale. Hellen had told her he was drifting in and
out but he was mostly out.

She reached out and gently took his hand, the unblemished one. 

"I'm so sorry Eddie. I never wanted you to get hurt. If I could take this for
you, I would. You're one of the best friend's I've ever had, do you know
that? I thought... I thought that bastard had killed you. I was ready to give
up hope, to just give up, cause I thought you were dead. That you had died
trying to protect me. Then I thought you'd want me to fight. You are so
brave Eddie. Please, get better. You don't want to die and be a blight on
my conscience forever, do you? And hey, I met your lady friend out in the
hall. She's hot. I think she's got it for you Eddie. So, you better get better
and prove to her that you're the man."

Hope felt his hand squeeze hers and she saw his eyes flutter open. He
looked at her, and tried to smile around the tube in his mouth.

"Welcome back to the world of the living, Kline." She grinned hugely.
"You're gonna make it. You're just to stubborn to die." Lifting his hand she
kissed the back of it. His skin was feverish against her lips. 

"Hey, guess what? You did great. This is Fox Mulder." She jerked her
thumb to indicate the man behind her, holding the handles of her
wheelchair. "You know the guy who owes seventeen years of back child
support."

"Gee, thanks." He mumbled. "I wish I could thank you under better
circumstances Mr. Kline. But I do thank you. For being there for Hope,
and for tracking me down." 

Kline blinked twice. He squeezed Hope's hand once more, then faded out.
Back into the realm of amorphous dreams where the pain couldn't follow.

                                     #####

Red Roof Inn 
Alexandria, VA

"I'll go get the briefcase. You two go get Hope's things. Hellen said she'd
stop by to pick up Kline's stuff later, so leave it, ok?"

Hope nodded and got out of the backseat of the car. "Third tile in from the
left hand corner, against the back wall. The case should be balanced on the
railings, I figured it'd buckle or go right through those cheap tiles
otherwise."

Mulder smiled, giving her more points for brains. He WANTED to believe.
Hope was one hell of a kid.

Hope walked alongside Scully as they went to the hotel room she'd recently
shared with Kline. The yellow police tape set it apart from the others. It
didn't deter Scully, however. She just pulled it aside and used the key from
the front office to enter.

Hope winced. The room was trashed. She refused to look at the blood
smeared wall, or the tape outline of where Eddie had fallen. She, instead,
started to shove clothes into her bag. Looks like she was gonna become a
compulsive clothes washer. The thought of that creep touching her
underwear made her want to vomit.

She noticed the wooden box had been smashed open. Tears sprung to her
eyes and she crouched beside it, collecting the papers and pictures, and the
small journal. She hadn't realized she was so openly weeping until she felt a
small hand on her shoulder.

She looked up to see Dana Scully's worried face.

"It's ok. This," she picked up the box and it's contents and deposited it on
the bed, "was all my real mother left me. Do you want to see a picture of
her?"

Scully sat on the bed. "Yes. I think I would."

Hope handed her six photographs. Snapshots. Moments of time eternally
frozen. The girl in the pictures was lovely, and exactly Mulder's type.
Leggy brunette with a figure to stop traffic. The pictures of this girl and a
much younger Mulder together were not as painful as she'd thought they
would be. Connie McKenzie was dead. Scully found herself unable to
maintain a grudge against a woman she never knew and whose life, in the
end, had been so tragic. If anything, she did feel sorry for the girl Connie
had once been. Her situation wasn't an easy one. 

"There was also my birth certificate and my adoption papers, my bracelet,
and mom's journal." Hope placed each item back into the intricately carved
wooden box with deliberate care. Her fingers danced over the broken brass
lock. "He broke it. I don't have much of her, and one of the few things she
left me that mother... shit..." She wiped at the tears with the back of her
hand.

"It can be fixed, Hope." Scully placed the pictures into the box as well. "I
might even know a place that will do it."

Hope smiled sadly. "Thanks. You've been so nice to me. Especially when
you have every right not to like me very much."

Scully frowned. "What do you mean?"

"I'm not blind, Ms. Scully. I see the way you and my... Mulder look at each
other. I wish someone would look at me like that someday. I've got to be...
inconvenient at best."

"I wouldn't say that." Scully looked away. Uncomfortable with this girl's
perceptions. She could deny that there was anything between her and
Mulder, but what would be the point? In a few months it was going to be
painfully obvious anyway.

"I got it." Mulder announced from the doorway, holding up the briefcase,
triumphantly.

Hope's eyes riveted on the case. It held what her daddy had died for, and it
held the possible future of the two other people in the room. It looked so...
plain... so innocuous for all that it carried. 

What was she going to do?

                                     #####

They stopped at an old warehouse first, and Hope waited with Scully as
Mulder ran inside with the two vials of blood.

Hope read the small sign by the door. "The Magic Bullet? You've got to be
kidding me." 

"Yeah, well, they can be totally off the wall on most things, but they are
pretty reliable in other areas."

"Who? What are we really doing here?" Hope eyes the battered looking
sheet metal door speculatively.

"Mulder trusts the people that run this newsletter. And even I have to
admit they have some pretty useful resources. He wants to make sure the
test doesn't get tampered with."

Hope sighed. "You know Mulder gives paranoia a bad name."

Scully chuckled. "Unfortunately a lot of it is well earned."

"Really? Wait a minute, who am *I* to ask really, after the mess my life's
become in the last few days?" Hope began to chew at her bottom lip. Or
after learning the smokestack's been connected to her a lot longer then she
realized.

Hope watched Scully call the mysterious Jackie over her cell phone.
"Jackie, we need a favor. I know we're in the hole at this point, but it's a
big one." Scully pinched the bridge of her nose between her fingers. "Yes, I
know Marty's in town. We wouldn't ask you if it weren't really important.
Can you meet us in Mulder's office? Thanks." 

She snapped the phone closed as Mulder emerged from the dingy looking
door a few minutes later and they were off again. This time to FBI
headquarters.

J. Edger Hoover Building Washington D.C.

Hope fidgeted with the visitor clip stuck to the neck of her t-shirt. She felt
out of place amidst all the suits and tourists. She followed the two agents
into an elevator and held her breath as she saw Mulder push the B button.
B as in basement? Oh shit...

Sure enough the doors opened to a dimly lit hallway that screamed
basement from the boxes and tubing lining it.

Hope kept chewing on her lip as she was led to a single door on her right. 

"X-Files Division. Special Agent Fox Mulder," she read, "Gee, do they
occasionally shove food under the door?"

"Smartass." Mulder gave her a playful shove into the room. 

"Better a smartass then a dumbass. So why are we here?" Hope crossed to
the desk prominent in the room and flopped into the chair.

"You're safe here until we can make arrangements with Jackie. Your
surrounded by the FBI's best a brightest." Mulder smirked.

"Forgive me if I'm under whelmed." Hope spotted the picture on Mulder's
desk and snatched it up. "Hey, where'd you get this?"

"Mulder plucked the frame from her fingers. "It's not you. It's my sister,
Samantha."

"You mean I have an aunt?"

"Sort of. It's a LONG story." Mulder ignored the phone, leaving answering
it to Scully. "She's been missing for twenty four years."

"Mulder, that was Margi. Skinner wants to see us, NOW. He wants to
know what's going on." Scully stood, waiting.

"Great. Look Hope, I'll pull up my newsgroup server for you, it'll give you
something to do while we're gone. Just... stay on the news-server, the rest
is password protected anyway." Mulder switched on his computer and
punched a few keys.

"Could you... um... leave the door open? I'm kinda freaky in closed in
spaces."

"Sure. Come on Mulder. We don't need to piss of Skinner right now."
Scully picked up the briefcase and left the room. Mulder gave Hope an
apologetic look and shrugged. 

"Look another redheaded lady is gonna be stopping by. Her name is Jackie
St. George. Just let her in and tell her we'll be back as soon as we can."

"Gottcha. Hey, Mulder, can you cram anymore adult newsgroups in here?
Jeesh... my dad's a perv." Hope scrolled down the list.

"It's research." He shouted over his shoulder as he moved to catch up with
Scully.

"Yeah, right. And I have this bridge to sell you." Hope muttered to no one
as she clicked on the alt.startrek.creative group.

They'd taken the briefcase with them. If she actually went along with this...
how was she going to get it away from them?



Chapter 18 - inherent from the opened locks.
--------------

Mulder held the door open for Scully. She wasn't fooled; that meant she
had to proceed him into the lion's den. She shot him a 'gee-thanks-Mulder'
look.

Skinner was seated at his desk and his eyes followed them as they entered
and seated themselves.

"Do either of you feel like telling me why the Alexandria police department
called me last night, at midnight, to inform me that one of my agents had
been involved with a fatal shooting?"

"There was a hostage situation involving the case we are working on. The
victim is an as yet unidentified white male. The hostage was taken to
Alexandria Hospital for treatment of wounds and observation while the
drugs she was injected with left her system," Mulder answered, his
professional face back in place.

"Yet I was informed by the Alexandria PD. Not by you, Agent Mulder.
Why is that?" Skinner was leaning back and at an angle in his chair, his
fingers absently toying with an ink pen.

"The victim needed immediate medical aid, sir. I didn't want to leave her
unguarded for any length of time, so I accompanied her to the hospital."

"And, Agent Scully, you were involved with first aid measures to another
victim in this same case, were you not? That's why you were not there to
back up Agent Mulder."

"Yes, sir, I was. I could not possibly leave that victim, as he was suffering
from multiple gunshot wounds."

Skinner held up the three fingers not holding his pen and got immediate
silence. 

"Agent Mulder, do you have any idea who the shooter is?"

Mulder licked his lips, whether it was in or discomfort wasn't readable. "I
think you'll find the dead man's gun was used in the shooting of Edward
Kline. As for who shot him... no, sir, I do not. I couldn't see anyone, and
my primary concern was retrieving the kidnap victim. Both she and the
dead man were going to go over a railing thirty feet above a concrete floor.
By the time I had her safe, there was no sign of the shooter."

"And where is this kidnap victim now? I've made some calls, she was
discharged this morning."

"Um... sir, she's in our office. Jackie's coming to help us keep an eye on her
until we know exactly what her late father was dealing with." Scully met
the A.D.'s gaze directly.

"I see. Is there anything else you'd like to add to this discussion... Agent
Mulder?" Skinner's gaze moved from Scully to pin Mulder to his chair. 

"No, sir. At this time there's nothing I'd like to add."

Skinner sighed and removed his glasses, pinching the bridge of his nose.
"You both better make sure you know what you're doing. If I regret not
stepping in you will both regret ever leaving Quantico. Do I make myself
clear?"

Both agents looked slightly puzzled but nodded. "Then you are dismissed."

As they got up to leave Skinner spoke again, "And Agent Mulder, for a
man who has your distaste for paperwork you certainly generate enough.
This is the only time I'll suggest you hold off on filing certain forms until a
case is closed. The insurance company can stand to wait."

Mulder froze and turned to look back at Skinner, who appeared to be
interested in the form before him, "That will be all Agent Mulder."

                                     #####

Jackie St. George was not in a good mood. Whatever Laurel and Hardy
wanted it had better be DAMNED important.

As she moved down the dim hall towards their basement office she
immediately sensed something wrong. The office door was open. Mulder
never left the door open.

Approaching cautiously, she looked inside to see... a kid sitting at Mulder's
desk. OK, not a kid, a girl in her late teens dressed in a baggy, UofOH tee
shirt, was going through Mulder's computer.

Jackie noticed the visitor badge pinned to her collar.

"This is a little off the tour route." Jackie stepped into the office, cutting off
the girl's means of escape by blocking the doorway.

"You're telling me? They're lucky the janitorial staff comes down here."
The girl had a quick yet familiar grin. When she looked up at Jackie there
was something... odd about her. Jackie felt like she should know her from
somewhere.

"You must be Jackie." The kid continued. "Mulder said you'd be by. My
name's Hope, by the way. Hope Jamison."

"Nice to meet you, Hope. So where is Mulder? Or Scully for that matter?"

"Someone named Skinner wanted to see them, and from they way they
moved I'd say they were in deep shit or something." The girl reached into a
plastic baggie of Mulder's sunflower seeds and extracted a few, popping
one into her mouth she chewed on it, shell and all.

"And they left you alone down here?" Jackie was having a hard time
believing that one.

Hope shrugged, "I guess they figured here was as safe as anywhere right
now."

"Safe? Are you in trouble?" Jackie pulled over Dana's chair, sitting she was
still between the kid and the door.

"Well some nasty characters have tried to kill me." Hope clicked off the
computer. 

For the first time Jackie noticed Sam's picture, out of place and turned
towards the door, the resemblance between the girl and the child Sam had
been was uncanny. Hope noticed Jackie's reaction and followed her gaze.
With a smile she picked up the picture and held it against her cheek. 

"Big family resemblance, huh?"

"You're related? How? Why are people trying to kill you?" Jackie had the
feeling she was falling into deep waters here.

"People are trying to kill me either for the stuff my father stole
documenting non terrestrial DNA, or because I'm Mulder's love child with
his high school sweetheart." The kid shrugged. "Go figure."

"What?" 

There was a distinct throat clearing behind her and Jackie turned to see
Mulder and Scully standing in the doorway.

"I see you two have met." Scully swept into the room. "Thanks for coming,
Jackie."

"What the hell is going on here?" St. George shot Mulder an
'explain-or-die' look.

"Well, sounds like Hope pretty much summed it up." Mulder suddenly
found his shoes intently interesting.

Hope got out of the chair to stand by Mulder. There was something in the
way they stood. Hope had better posture, but the lean was the same... and
the resemblance was definitely there. "Congratulation's, its a girl." she
announced. "Do you have any idea how long I've wanted to say that?"

Jackie just stood there, her mouth hanging open. Not many things could
throw a dragon for a loop; leave it for Mulder to find one of them.

"And the bad news is, I'm asking YOU to keep her safe, at least until Scully
and I can figure out what to do with this." Mulder took the briefcase from
Scully and set it on his desk.

"Me? God, Mulder, you really know how to ruin a girl's plans." Jackie
couldn't help it, she kept looking from the girl to Mulder and back again.
"What is that anyway?"

Mulder unlocked the case and pulled out the files Scully had gone over in
the car. "The same kind of medical files as those we found in West
Virginia. Plus film and readouts documenting a fifth and sixth nucleotide in
a gene sequence. Something unearthly."

"Mulder, we haven't determined that yet. It could have been a botched test,
a contaminated specimen..." Scully cut in.

"And the consortium are trying to get their hands on it so badly because it's
a botched test? I don't think so."

"I want to take this to some people who know what they're looking at. Get
an objective outside opinion," Scully insisted. 

"Last time you did that with similar findings the good doctor you
contacted, and her entire family were killed, unless you believe it really was
a random car accident." Mulder shot back.

"Well, until you decide what to do with it... I keep it." Hope chimed in.

"No, absolutely not. It's too volatile. As long as you no longer have it they
might leave you alone." Mulder's response was immediate.

"Look, my dad DIED for that. I've kept it safe up until now. I don't want it
leaving my sight. It's mine. I'm only loaning it to you." Hope crossed her
arms, winced, then uncrossed them. It was hard to appear tough when your
breast still throbbed with pain.

"And we are thankful for that. But now we're here to take some of the heat
off of you."

"Fine, then whichever of you keeps it stay with Jackie too. That way, *I*
still get to keep it in sight as well. Try to see where I'm coming from here,
guys." Hope threw her arms up in the air.

"Oh no... I'm not running a boarding house, for cryin' out loud. The kid
only." Jackie's tone and look broached no argument.

"No, Hope. We take this with us." Mulder wasn't going to relent either.
"Jackie, can we see you in the hall for a minute?"

The three moved into the hall and Mulder closed the door. Refusing to
panic, Hope eyed the briefcase speculatively.

                                     #####

"She's had a rough couple of days." Mulder started. "Her adoptive father
was murdered, she was on the run with that file, and just last night a real
bastard kidnaped her and..." his hands tightened into fists, "and cut her.
Tortured her to try to find those files. She was injected with a chemical
cocktail that just left her system this morning. She just needs some rest
and... normalcy."

"So you ask ME to take her? Mulder, I'm as far from normal as you get...
except maybe YOU." Jackie shook her head, amazed that after what
Mulder just told her the girl in the room wasn't a gibbering idiot. She had
guts, she'd give her that. "Ok, I'll do it. You want a dragon to protect her,
you got it. But remember, I don't pull any punches."

"I don't want you to." Mulder's face was without humor. 

"Right. And in payment for this little service, you owe me one hell of a
story when this is over. Like how you got a teenage daughter for starters."



Chapter 19 - But worth the cost to fill our plate
--------------

Hope held her gym bag of meager belongings close as Jackie escorted her
into her apartment. Hope had told Jackie about her search for her birth
parents, and about the last few days on the ride over. Jackie had told Hope
about meeting Mulder at a UFO conference, and later being assigned to
work with him on one fateful case that had led to a long and deep
friendship.

"Do you think he'll have time for me when the baby comes?" Hope asked
cautiously.

"They told you about that? Hope, don't worry, they'll have time for you. If
nothing else you present a not-to-be-missed babysitting opportunity here."
Jackie winked and gave the kid a playful shove into the apartment.

Hope felt herself crumble inside. It was true. There was a brother or sister
waiting to be born, and right now its future rested solely in Hope's hands.
She felt sick. She wanted to run and hide. She didn't want this. Any of it.
She didn't want the responsibility. 

"Marty... we have company." Jackie called into the apartment.

Marty emerged from the kitchen, a glass of juice in his hands. He looked at
Hope with a puzzled expression.

"This is Hope Jamison... Mulder's daughter. Hope, Marty Nantus." Jackie
was grinning like a Cheshire cat at the look on Marty's face. Hey, if it got
pulled on her the least she could do was enjoy pulling it on someone else.
Marty just happened to be the only available person.

"You're kidding, right?" 

Hope shook her head. "Long story. Longer few days. I hate to be a pain,
but... is there somewhere I can crash for a few hours? I'm exhausted." 

Jackie nodded. Hope felt bile rise in her throat at the understanding look
the woman gave her. "Right through there. Use my bed, I changed the
sheets this morning." 

"Thank you. Jackie, you are being so nice. I want you to know I really
appreciate it. No matter what."

"It's only a bedroom, kid. Tonight you get the couch." Jackie smirked as
Hope dashed into the bedroom.

Turning to Marty Jackie's grin disappeared. "I'll give you the Readers
Digest condensed version..."

                                     #####

Hope felt both blessed and cursed when she saw the fire escape at the
bedroom window. She tossed her gym bag on the bed and opened it.

She hadn't lied. She was exhausted. But there was still much to do. 

She pulled out the files she taken from the briefcase and felt their weight in
her hands. They weighed as much as a mountain. Approximately two
pounds of paper and medical film. The weight of a life. Of two lives. Of
three... for if anything happened to Dana and the baby what would happen
to Mulder?

She felt the weight of a family she didn't know, a family she might be
throwing away the chance to know. She wiped away a tear and slid open
the bedroom window. She moved slowly, to keep the metal from creaking.

It was only a matter of time before the theft was detected. Only a matter of
time before her escape was noticed. She just prayed the smokestack was
still watching her, would find her and make his bargain. She just prayed she
wasn't selling her soul to Satan.

                                     #####

"Mulder, we have to get an outside opinion. Then we have to decide what
to DO with these files." Scully drummed her fingers against the briefcase
on her lap.

"First thing we do is make copies. Lots of copies." Mulder muttered.

"We could have done that at the Bureau." 

"I didn't want anyone there to see what we have yet. Office Max is just
ahead." Mulder made the turn into the parking lot of the named store.

"You don't trust anyone so you're going to make copies at a chain store.
Mulder, sometimes your logic eludes me." 

"Logic? It just seemed a good idea at the time. Come on."

They approached the copy center and placed the briefcase on the counter.
"We can make the copies ourselves." He opened the briefcase to find the
files... missing. "What the..." realization dawned on him and made his
stomach lurch. "Hope."

"But why? She knows how important they are." Scully frowned.

"I don't know. I really hope it's just her need to protect them herself." They
turned around and retraced their steps to the car. "Call Jackie, tell her
Hope has the files and we're coming by to pick them up."

                                     #####

Jackie had just finished explaining what she knew to Marty when the phone
rang.

"Yo." She listened to the voice at the other end. "That kid has more balls
than brains. Takes after her father alright." Jackie stood and crossed to the
bedroom door she gave a few quick raps before opening it and finding it...
empty.

"Oh shit!" 

One "What?" came from the living room, the other from the phone.

"She's gone, out the window by the looks of it. You said I was supposed to
guard her. Not that I was supposed to be her guard. Jesus... I'm goin' after
her, she can't have gotten far on foot."

Jackie slammed the phone down.

"I'm going with you." Marty was already grabbing his jacket.

                                     #####

Hope walked swiftly. She couldn't run. It hurt too much. 

She had no idea where to go. She had to assume he'd find her. Well, he'd
better hurry. 

She crossed a park full of children and set on a bench. Moving targets were
harder to find. She wondered who'd find her first.

She didn't have a long wait. His car was black, but nondescript. He rolled
down his window.

"You have the files." His watery eyes fell on them.

"Your word. Your word Dana and her baby will be left alone." Hope
clutched the files over her chest, hugging them to herself.

"You have it. I'll make sure there is no interference with the pregnancy or
the child's development once it's born."

"How do I know I can trust you?"

"You don't." He took a drag from his ever-present cigarette. "You'll have
to take my word on faith. But my word IS good, especially when given to
you, Hope."

"Who are you? Who are you to me?" Hope snapped.

"Family is important, don't you think? One must remain loyal to one's
blood." He held out his hand.

Hesitantly, Hope placed the files in his waiting palm.

"You've made the right decision, Hope. Is this all of it?"

Hope looked him straight in the eye. "It's all I have."

"You've done well." His eyes flashed across the park. "It's time to go.
Don't worry too much, Hope. I'll be watching you."

His car sped out of sight and his words sent a chill down her spine.

She looked across the park, following where his gaze had gone. She saw
the Wrangler, the two people getting out, and at the edge of the park,
Jackie and Marty running in her direction.

She steeled herself. Time to face the music.

Mulder and Scully were running across the park as well. Scully paused and
pulled out her cell phone, slowing as she spoke into it. Of the four heading
for her, Mulder arrived first. He grabbed her arm painfully.

"You handed them over, didn't you?" There was such venom in his voice
she flinched away from it. "It's been a set up from the start. Just get the
Hell out of here. Go back to you masters and tell them you've done a good
job. You've earned your thirty pieces of silver. How could I ever have
thought we were related? Your worse then He is. At least He admits up
front about his agenda." His voice was at top volume and he hadn't
released her arm. He raised his arm to point at the flow of traffic the black
car had disappeared into.

His accusations cut to the bone. Deeper then the madman's knife, and much
more painful.

Hope flinched as much from the verbal assault as from the raising of his
arm. "Go ahead, hit me, you bastard. It's probably what I would have had
to live with if Connie never gave me away. A lifetime under a control freak
with a temper. Go ahead, hit me, punch me. Are you going to hit the new
baby, too? Fuck you Mulder. You only hear what you WANT to hear.
Eddie told me I might be better off never looking for my birth parents. I
think he was right." 

She wrenched away from his grip, feeling the soreness that would mark
bruises. 

Mulder had frozen. Her words had struck to the bone. "How... how did
you know about the new baby?"

"He told me asshole, he told me and promised to leave it and Scully alone
for those files. But you don't want to hear that. You'd rather fling
accusations. I don't want, need or deserve that. So fuck off. I'm going
home. Where I'm wanted. Where I have a LIFE. Where I'm FAR away
from YOU!" 

Hope didn't care that there was an audience. She didn't care about the pain
in her chest, the emotional far outweighed the physical anyway. She fled.
Past the stock still and dumbfounded Jackie and Marty, past Scully, and
down the street.

Scully approached Mulder slowly. "Mulder." He flinched a bit but spun to
face her. Both anger and confusion on his face. "Mulder, that was Frohike.
Your cell phone's off, by the way." She looked at him sorrowfully.
"Mulder, they ran the test at top priority, and rechecked it three times.
Hope IS your daughter, Mulder. Yours makes up half of her genetic
makeup."

His mouth opened and closed like a fish. 

Jackie elbowed Marty in the ribs. "Come on, I think I know where she
went."

"Where?" He asked.

"Her gym bag and teddy bear were left at my place, remember."

"What about him?" Marty gestured to Mulder.

"I think he better cool down first. The poor kid got herself backed into a
corner. Now she has to live with her choices. Mulder has to learn to live
with them, too." Jackie tugged at Marty's sleeve and led the way back to
her apartment.

                                     #####

Hope was out of breath and her arms ached. She'd climbed back up the fire
escape, figuring the front door was locked. Luck was with her, in their
haste Jackie had left the window open.

Luck wasn't with her. Jackie was waiting inside. Seated on the bed.

"Shit," Hope muttered under her breath.

"You certainly know how to make an entrance, young lady."

Hope raised her chin defiantly. "I only came for my things. I wasn't going
to rob you blind or anything."

"I know." Jackie's face was still sympathetic. It made Hope want to run to
the older woman and cry on her shoulder. She wouldn't allow that,
however. She hated the knowledge that her face was still wet from the
tears she'd shed on her run over here.

"You can't hold me against my will. I didn't commit a crime." Hope knew
she sounded afraid, and grit her teeth against it.

"Technically, you stole evidence and hampered a federal investigation,
which is a federal offense. Lucky for you, I'm not with the FBI. I'm not
here to stop you. Not if you really want to go. I'm here to ask you to give
Mulder another chance. I think you both need one."

Hope shook her head and grabbed her gym bag. She picked up her teddy
bear and laughed at some joke only she could fathom. She tossed the bear
at Jackie, who caught it easily.

"Give that to Mulder. Tell him to rip Mr. Pookie's heart out like he did
mine. The payoff's better." Hope slung the bag over her shoulder and
walked out, with only a nod to Marty.

                                     #####

Mulder and Scully arrived ten minutes later. Mulder was still sullen.

"Did she come back here?" He asked.

Jackie nodded and handed him the bear. "She said, and I quote 'tell him to
rip Mr. Pookie's heart out like he did mine. The payoff's better."

Mulder looked down at the teddy bear, at the neat row of stitched over its
heart. His eyes widened and he dug out his pocket knife. He carefully cut
each stitch, trying not to further damage the battered doll. With a shaking
hand he probed into the stuffing. He bit his lip as he pulled out a small
yellow case. A specimen case. Exactly like the ones he and Scully had seen
both in the West Virginia mine and at Delmark labs.

Hope had kept the final piece, and despite her hurt and anger, had left it for
him.

"Mulder?" Scully's voice barely registered as his knees gave. He felt the
tears on his face, but couldn't associate them yet. 

What had he said? What had he done? "Where is she?" he asked Jackie.

"I don't know, Mulder. She left. She needs time to herself now. Without
those files I think she'll be ok." Jackie watched Scully kneel beside Mulder
and wrap her arm around him, she watched him bury his head into her
shoulder and begin to sob. 

Uncomfortable about seeing anymore she motioned for Marty to join her
and they both left the apartment. Allowing the two inside to cope as best
they could.



Chapter 20 - With the final content of Pandora's box.
--------------

Two weeks later:

Scully looked across the office at Mulder. He was unusually quiet. Had
been for the past two weeks. Hope had disappeared out of DC, but they
were able to confirm that she was back in Cleveland, at her dorm. Trying to
get on with her life. She had not returned any calls, and if the answering
machine didn't pick up they were always greeted by the cheerful yet firm
voice of Hope's roommate, Karen.

Hope did, however, repeatedly call the hospital to check up on Eddie.
Eddie was recovering nicely, and seemed to look forward to his short
phone conversations with his favorite 'client'. Almost as much as he looked
forward to the visits he got from Hellen.

Mulder had visited Eddie, and confessed all, hoping the other man's longer
association with Hope might give him some insight on how to proceed.

Kline had told Mulder to give her space. Let her heal. 

In the past two weeks Mulder only brightened when they visited their
mothers and told them of the upcoming wedding. Maggie had embraced
him so hard he complained of bruises. Teena Mulder had given Scully a
warm hug and a softly spoken welcome to the family.

They still hadn't told Skinner. 

The ringing of the phone cut through the silence of the office.

"Mulder" His answered numbly.

"What does one asshole say to the other?" The voice on the other end of
the phone was one he'd been wanting to hear for an eternity.

"I... I don't know. What?" Scully saw the look on his face and made all the
proper connections. She smiled at him encouragingly.

"Pucker up and kiss my face. I guess being an asshole is another genetic
drawback I can trace to you, huh?"

"Probably. I've been accused of it more than once." He smiled softly.

"Yeah, well, so have I. You know what? I discovered something in the past
two weeks, other than that you're a jerk and I'm just as much of one."

"And what might that be?" He asked, almost afraid of the answer.

"I don't have a life. Funny, isn't it? No friends, other than Karen. My
boyfriend dumped me for a sorority chick who puts out. My classes fill up
my mind and my time, but there is nothing here but memories. I miss him,
Mulder." 

"I know you do." He wanted to reach through the phone line and embrace
her.

"Everywhere I look there are memories. It's getting awkward. I think
Karen is getting tired of babysitting me and trying to drag me into a social
life. So... I hear Georgetown has a damn good Pre-Med program..."

Mulder's smile nearly split his face. Scully was watching him and patiently
waiting to be filled in.

"An excellent one, in fact. And there happens to be a bridesmaid position
open here as well..."

                                     #####

Location Unknown 
New York, New York

The man steepled his fingers as he sat at the conference table. Between his
elbows and under his steepled fingers lay the files.

"What made you make such a deal?"

The man at the other end of the table inhaled smoke and gestured with his
cigarette. "If we keep it, we can deal with her again. She's in interesting
tool. One with many possibilities."

"Yes, I can see the potentialities presented here. What I want to know is
why you ordered her protected, and what happened to Cross?"

"I dislike wasting resources that can be put to better uses. As for Cross, we
both know we are not the only agency interested in Mulder's work. Perhaps
another intervened." The man's eyes never wavered as he took another
drag.

The man folded his gentleman's hands over the files. "Very well. That will
be all, for now."

With the dismissal the Smoking Man left the room.

Well manicured fingers drummed against the retrieved files. Yes, Hope
Jamison was going to prove an interesting game piece. For he realized she
could control more them Mulder, but his own dark knight as well...

The End of D.D. III.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

For those interested the full poem quoted line by line in this story:

Pandora's Box - Rhoni Lake 1992

Of dark and light, mysteries cried out 
Look here, look here and learn of fear. 
Unutterable deeds of men does shout 
For mankind to shed but a single tear.

Past and present coalesce. 
Single minded passions run till bowed they angrily acquiesce 
To that which foul deeds are done.

As the hawk does stalk the dove elusive dreams shatter with morn. 
And over all the triumph of love the seeds from which hope is born.

What is love without the pain? 
And what is light without the dark? 
To savor the sun there must be rain, 
'ere we come home, must embark.

Of fear and pain our estate inherent from the opened locks. 
But worth the cost to fill our plate 
With the final content of Pandora's box. 

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------