Human Affairs
By Spider


Feedback: spider@webspin.org

All parts can be found at www.webspin.org/affairs.htm

Rating : mostly PG and G, but some chapters R for adult sexual
concepts and language
Category : S
Spoilers: Everything up to but not including Biogenesis
Keywords: MSR, slight S/other, M/angst
Synopsis: Mulder's Oxford flat mate arrives unexpectedly with a
compound mystery; modern dinosaur and human remains are found near
a Loch in northern England.

Disclaimers/Credits: Opening narrative by Sir Richard Burton from
Jeff Wayne's musical album 'War of the Worlds' copyright Jeff
Wayne Music Ltd/Duchess Music Inc. Lyrics from same album "Forever
Autumn" by Gary Osborne & Paul Vingrass "The Spirit of Man" by
Gary Osborne all used without permission. Re X files and their
characters of course belong to Fox, Chris Carter et al...but I
figure if kids are allowed to play with Mulder and Scully Barbie
dolls, then we grown ups can play with their literary versions :-)

Author's note: Geographical locations and castles do not exist.
Lochabee is a pseudonym ­ I refrained from using its real name for
fear of reprisals. C14 dating uses the term ya (meaning years ago)
the baseline for ya is 1950. That means an item dated at 150ya is,
in today's terms, (June 1999 ) 200 years old. The tale of the
garden fairies is based on a true story (though the location is
further south). Harry Houdini and Sir Arthur Conan Doyle did in
fact investigate the matter but were unable to debunk it. Eastman
(from Kodak Eastman) verified the film plates had not been
tampered with. And as for the cat, well I lived next door to one.

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

HUMAN AFFAIRS


'No-one would have believed, in the
last years of the nineteenth
century, that human affairs were
being watched from the timeless
worlds of space. No one could have
dreamed we were being scrutinised,
as someone with a microscope studies
creatures that swarm and multiply
in a drop of water. Few men even
considered the possibility of life
on other planets and yet, across
the gulf of space, minds immeasurably
superior to ours regarded this earth
with envious eyes and slowly but surely,
they drew their plans against us.'

H.G. Wells 'War of the Worlds'
as narrated by Sir Richard Burton.


PROLOGUE
CHRISTMAS DAY 1999
LOCH MEADE NORTHERN ENGLAND

"Noooo...!" He screamed in disbelief
"No....nooooo...Sculllllyyyyy!" Mulder's vocal chords almost
shredded in a primal howl of agony.

His legs gave out and he slumped into the snow, desperately
shaking his head in denial. His eyes filled with grief and horror
at what he had done. The pain from the blow to his head was
nothing to the clawing agony of having his heart and stomach torn
from him.

Fragments of the launch cascaded back into the water in slow
motion. He frantically eyed each piece of debris, willing each one
to move, to show some sign of life. But it was impossible. Nothing
could have survived the explosion.

He sat in shock, slowly rocking back and forth, half frozen,
scanning every inch of the water, knowing he had killed her.
Knowing it was finally over.

Special Agent Fox Mulder had seen men die in a dozen foul ways.
He'd cradled the head of his own father, impotent in the face of
impending death. And he had killed men, with regret, but never
with guilt.

How could this be? How could he have fought so hard to bring her
back from death so many times, only to have it end like this, at
his hands?

Mulder shook his head in angry denial, refusing to believe this
could be so. Unbidden, helpless tears welled in his eyes. They
said she'd been locked in a safe place. Mulder had never
considered that safe place to be the forward cabin of the launch.

She should never have been there! But as his face collapsed into
his hands he knew it was not true. He had not asked her, he had
expected - no -demanded it of her, as much as he had demanded it
of himself. He had forced his crusade upon her, a crusade that had
ended in nothing but her destruction at his hands.

CHAPTER 1
ONE WEEK EARLIER
WASHINGTON D.C.

Fox Mulder sat in their basement office of the FBI building, idly
flipping through a magazine as he waited for his partner, Dana
Scully to finish. God knows why he waited, it wasn't as if they
were going anywhere together. Exactly, he thought idly, going
nowhere fast.

With only two days until Christmas their caseload was surprisingly
light. Too damned cold even for the psycho's, Mulder idly
pondered. It had given them plenty of time to examine and dispose
of the navel lint around the office. Unfortunately it also gave
him time to examine his own navel lint, a dangerous pass time at
best.

Mulder deftly fingered the remaining sunflower seeds from the
rumpled packet on his desk. He had promised himself this Christmas
would be different. This year he would not call her at the family
dinner, or drag her out to some lunatic ghost house. This year his
Christmas present to Scully - beside that little box burning a
hole in his overcoat - would be no phone calls from Mulder. This
Christmas the sky could fall in and he would not, just this once,
interfere with Scully's life.

What little life he'd left for her that is.

Mulder's feet were propped on the edge of the table, crossed at
the ankles. Despite the counter balance his legs provided, his
chair tipped at an angle that defied the laws of physics. He
crunched delicately on the last sunflower seed and tongued the
husk into his hand. Holding the magazine in the other hand, he let
it fall vertically to examine the centerfold "Hey, Scully, this is
really something,"

Scully briefly lifted her eyes above her glasses and computer
screen to her partner. One glance at the angle of the magazine
provoked a slightly bemused, ever-suffering expression. "Don't
tell me, she's an alien abductee as evidenced by certain gravity
defying physical attributes."

"Well I can't comment about the alien abductee part, but she's
certainly gravity defying. No seriously, you have to see this,
she's perfect in every way. Talk about the fountain of youth!"

Scully chose to ignore him and concentrated on the complex
molecular structure displayed on the screen. If she could just get
that compound's structure to fit....

"Ah, c'mon Scully," Mulder tipped forward, swung his legs off the
table and stood. He strode across to his partner's desk and
planted the centerfold directly over the monitor. Holding the
magazine in place he moved to stand slightly behind her, sharing
her view of the magnificent centerfold. Desiring as little eye
full as possible of Mulder's usual fair, Scully's face screwed up
and her head snapped back, almost slamming into his groin. Mulder
unconsciously pulled back. The proximity was nice, but not if it
crippled him.

Scully blinked in surprise. Her face changed to one of admiration
and she looked closer. "Wow, it's a World WarII Corsair, perfectly
restored."

"Ooooh," Mulder sucked the air through his teeth and leaning
millimeters from her ear whispered hoarsely "You know how much
that turns me on Scully." His partner did not reply, but the
carefully indifferent set of her lips and eyes would have
shattered a lesser man.

"Your brother's models? The distinctive gull wings?" Mulder
continued whispering in what any other female would easily have
interpreted as a seductive drawl.

"Nope," Scully replied in her casually professional manner "The
caption in the box at the bottom."

Scully turned her face to his, apparently unfazed by his proximity
and added in what he thought of as her school Ma'am voice "It's
nice to see you're broadening your subscription base, Mulder."

Before he could retort with one of his usual quips the door burst
in and a lanky figure peered around the corner. The newcomer's
mischievous eyes and roguish grin reminded her so much of Mulder
that Scully blinked in surprise. Yet as the tall stranger burst
out laughing, Scully realised he looked nothing like Mulder. His
short blonde hair sat in stunning contrast to a full, closely
cropped black beard. Although a similar build and height to
Mulder's lanky six foot frame, the new comer's rounded face made
him appear stockier.

"Fox you old bastard, what are you doing residing in this
basement. Oh, ho!" he laughed as he looked around, "I see the FBI
couldn't cure you of your slovenly habits so they very sensibly
evicted you to the dungeon!"

"Dale!" Mulder exclaimed in pure delight.

Scully glanced from her partner's face to the newcomer's. Nope,
they were like chalk and cheese. Scully blinked, somewhat taken
back as the two men embraced. She had never seen Mulder hug a man
before, unless he was trying to restrain him. It just didn't
seem...Mulder.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Mulder laughed, "I figured
you'd taken root in that musty old ruin of yours. "

"Ruin? Ruin! My dear chap if you are referring to my sixteenth
century castle..." But the stranger's voice cut off as he spied
Scully, obscured by the computer screen. "Oh my, I do say old boy
your secretary is a great deal more pleasing to the eye than
mine."

The men disengaged and Mulder's eyes twinkled as he looked at
Scully. "Dale Forrester, this is Dana Scully, my partner."

"Oh," Forrester looked sincerely contrite "Oh, please accept my
apologies Ms. Scully, or is it detective Scully....or, oh bugger,
help me out here Fox, what do you people call yourselves again?"
he asked in a distinctive aristocratic English.

"Doctor." replied Mulder.

"Agent." Scully replied simultaneously.

Scully eyed her partner questioningly. He never introduced her as
that. "Oh," Dale's face stiffened slightly. Scully frowned,
further confused by Forrester's reaction. But then Forrester
forcibly brightened and held out his hand by way of introduction.

"Hello Doctor Agent Scully, the pleasure is mine." He leaned
forward in a slightly conspirital manner and whispered loudly,
"Look, I can put in a good word for you with your superiors if you
wish. You can't possibly be working with this...person...by
choice."

His infectious grin disarmed Scully and she could feel herself
smiling as she stood and held her hand out in reply. "It's Agent
Scully and I'm not a practicing M.D., I'm a forensic pathologist."

Forrester's eyes brightened and he threw a knowing frown in
Mulder's direction.

"Agent Scully, how nice to meet you at last. I'd love to say how
much I've heard about you but your partner has been less than
forthcoming. I was under the impression you were more a Watson to
his Sherlock. I should of course surmised you were a Doctor, but
Fox never indicated you were a lady." Scully shot an 'I'll deal
with you later' stare at Mulder, who was looking both amused and
resigned.

"All right, all right, you can knock off the charm Dale, she's my
partner, not a post grad, or are you still stuck on under grads?"

Forester gave him a hurt look "I've advanced to post doctorates,
philosophy, that is. I need more...eh...intellectual stimulation
as I grow older."

"Sounds kinky." Mulder grinned.

"Well as you are so fond of saying, it's only kinky the first
time. But seriously old chap, they are far cuddlier than your
collection and right ha...." Forrester stopped himself, suddenly
remembering Scully's gender.

"Why didn't you email me you were coming? You could have stayed
with me." Mulder extracted a chair from beneath a mountain of file
boxes and holding it out opposite his desk, motioned for Dale to
sit. He turned to Scully "Dale and I roomed together at Oxford for
a coupla years."

His partner's eyes finally registered understanding.

"Stay with you Mulder," Forrester looked horrified "Oh my dear boy
you are joking of course. Never, ever again! Two years was 729
days too many as it was! No, no no no no! No, I've just popped
across the briny for a fleeting visit with the Ambassador and I
thought I'd drop by and invite you to a Christmas supper this
evening.

"I would be most offended if you did not come too, Agent Scully."
he dropped his voice to a conspirital hush, "I have mystery for
you I just know you're going to love!"

Mulder tapped his teeth with his pencil "I wondered what it would
take to get you on a plane again. It's been more than ten
years..." but he belatedly saw the trap he'd set himself. Mulder's
irreverent and extraordinarily fast wit suddenly fell into a
yawning verbal black hole. He desperately tried to make eye
contact before Forrester's equally fast wit placed his life in
peril.

Too late.

"Yes, well I could hardly have refused to be your good man could
I? I mean I just had to warn the poor woman before she plunged in.
Alas, Mulder," Forrester continued, utterly oblivious to the
cataclysmic change in the room's atmospheric conditions "I'm so
sorry it ended so soon, but..." Forrester failed to see Mulder's
scrunched face buried behind his right hand, "It was so nice to
bump into her on the way through these great walls..."

Mulder's face screwed up into a knot of almost gargoyle
proportions. Placing his hands on the arms of his chair he
gingerly raised himself...

"She mentioned that you had worked together recently and I am so
very pleased to see that no ill feelings..."

...and sat down as if on a bed of very sharp nails.

"Fox, old boy you don't look well. Did I say something..?"
Forrester glanced across at Scully, who sat frozen, her eyes wide
and unfocussed, her lips slightly parted. He glanced back again at
Mulder "Oh Fox I am so sorry for the faux pas, I just naturally
assumed..."

Mulder's testicles had migrated north and were now lodged
somewhere in his throat. "Naturally," he wheezed, unable to will
his eyes open in fear of having them frozen in situ if they
crossed his partner's gaze.

"Oh, well, old son, that is all water under the bridge as they
say." Forrester looked nervously between the two of them and he
stood quickly from his chair. Picking a card from his pocket he
dropped it on Mulder's desk and hurriedly added "Well this is the
address, black tie, of course. Eh, you still own a tux old chap?"

Mulder smiled sickly and dared a raised eyelid.

"Good chap! Well, then 8 o'clock? " Forrester made his way to the
door "And I do so very hope you will grace is with your company
Agent Scully, I think you will find what I have to tell you is
most interesting! Yes, most interesting indeed!"

Scully pulled her eyes back into focus and smiled vacantly at the
attractive Forrester. "Oh, I wouldn't miss it for the world."

"Good o! I look forward to it, farewell then Fox!" and he swept
from the room.

Scully tapped her right index fingernail on the computer keyboard,
staring vacantly at the recently replaced "I want to believe
Poster" above Mulder's head. She waited for the troupe of little
gray Reticulans to open a hatch and scuttle down across Mulder's
shoulder. Then she frowned, wondering why they were taking so
long. Extraterrestrial life, she could handle that in a pinch,
but...

Mulder shot up from his seat and grabbed his overcoat as he rushed
for the door like a man fleeing the hounds of Hell. He more or
less threw the card on Scully's lap and croaked "Meet ya there..."
on the way out. Scully hardly saw him leave, mostly because he was
moving just a tad faster than the speed of light.

"Mu....?" She glanced down at the card and noticed the address.

CHAPTER 2
BASEMENT FBI HEADQUARTERS
WASHINGTON DC

It took her fifteen minutes to bring Mulder's full FBI background
on screen. That level of access required approval from A.D.'s
only, but Scully had learned a few tricks from the Lone Gunmen.
She knew her brain was functioning but...perhaps there were still
traces of the fungicidal hallucinogenic in her blood? She should
check that out later. Meanwhile, she readjusted her reading
glasses and peered at the screen.

Marital Status: Never Married

Scully reloaded the page.

Twice.

She dialed Mulder on her cell phone but the operator announced the
usual platitude. Mulder had turned off his cell phone.

She repeated that piece of information to herself twice.

Mulder had turned off his cell phone.

Scully checked her pulse, she had to be hallucinating.

The phone cheeped loudly in her hand. Scully blinked and stared at
it "Scully."

"Oh, Agent Scully, look, it's Dale Forrester here. I'm most
terribly sorry to call you. I did try Fox but he's phone seems to
be inoperational."

"Yes," Scully replied, a slight frown on her face "Mr. Forrester,
how did you get my number?"

"Oh, my, I don't believe this. I do not, as you Yanks say, do
tactless well. On the way out I asked the reception desk for Fox's
card so I could call him. I only have his home number and I wanted
to be sure to catch him. Unfortunately it seems they had run out
of his cards, so they gave me one of yours instead and wrote his
number on the back. But as I said, his is not answering. Is that
all right?" he finished in a small voice, clearly beside himself.

"Yes Mr. Forrester," Scully smiled as a logical explanation
entered her world once again. "That's perfectly all right, what
can I do for you?"

"Well, you see, as I said I'm not normally tactless...and I....oh
look I'm so terribly sorry I mentioned Fox's marriage. It only
lasted a few months before it was annulled..'

"Annulled?"

"Look, I daren't say more because I feel I have already made an
idiot of myself. It's just that as you are his working partner I
did not think that....well what I mean is I...."

"Mr. Forrester, "

"....As you are law enforcement officers and partners you would
not....I mean ...."

"Mr. Forrester?"

"Oh dear oh dear, I'm only making more of a fool of myself,
something I most definitely can ill afford to do at this time...."

"Dale!"

That got his attention and he stopped as Scully continued "Mr.
Forrester, you are perfectly correct. Agent Mulder and I are
working partners. I admit I was a little....ahm....taken back, but
I respect Mulder's privacy."

"Oh I am so pleased to hear you say that, when I saw Diana on the
way in...."

"Diana?" Scully asked in a flat voice, barely maintaining her grip
on the phone.

"Yes, Fox's wife.... ah, ex-wife. Well, I gathered they still got
along quite well. I once wondered why it was an annulment and not
a divorce....I mean a divorce in this country is so easy these
days and no longer bears the stigma that, eh....but, well I also
understand that for the sake of their careers, working in the same
environment....Oh look, there I go again. I must end this
conversation and start anew when we meet tonight. Would you do me
the courtesy of that Agent Mulder? Strike it from the record, as
you say?"

Scully smiled in spite of her shock. Shock? Nope, shock was way
down there along with little and understated, small,
inconsequential and meaningless.

"That's perfectly all right Mr. Forrester."

"And Agent Scully, may I beg of you one further request? He waited
a moment, taking her silence as an affirmation "Please call me
Dale?"


Scully glanced at the wall clock, surprised to see it was almost
6.45pm. That gave her only a little over an hour get home and
change. But she wanted to enlarge the surveillance photo. Damn,
surely there was a better copy on file than this one. Of course
she could just take it upstairs, have it computer rendered and....

And what? "Oh, can you just enhance this photo of my partner's
left hand....yes, that's the one. What am I looking for? Oh, just
a wedding ring."

Scully typed in a final request and ran the sequence through
again....there! Was that a glint? She ran it back, cut his hand
out and enlarged it. It was not as if more evidence was required,
Mulder's vanishing act was proof in itself. She just needed more
physical evidence.

The computer took a few moments to reopen the memory heavy file
but when it did, Scully sat back in her seat for all of thirty
seconds and tried to defreeze her mind.

I am not going to think about this now, she told herself sternly.
Mulder obviously had his reasons for keeping it from her. He
always had his reasons, doling at the information in little dribs
and drabs until he came up with a conclusion that bore very little
resemblance to the evidence at hand.

He wasn't spooky, he was a walking non sequitur.

Frustratingly, and the reason she stayed on, she mantra'ed to
herself a dozen times each week, was that the sheer scope of his
brilliance and insight frequently proved correct. Mulder shamed
the cleverest analytical lateral thinkers into apparent narrow
mindedness. He forced her inquisitive mind to minutely examine
every obscure crevice of her precious science in an effort to
explain the unexplainable. Working with Mulder...well, never a
dull moment. Politics and machinations aside, Scully often
wondered if the rarefied powers that be had allowed their
reassignment to the X-files at least in part because their closure
rate was light years ahead of every other department. It made for
good FBI P.R.

Except, of course, when it involved little gray aliens.

CHAPTER 3
FBI HEADQUARTERS
WASHINGTON DC


Scully wandered out of the building with an odd, fixed look on her
face. Numerous agents wished her goodnight and she responded
automatically. At least two asked if she was all right but she
mouthed the auto reply "I'm fine, thanks, Merry Christmas to you,
too."


The road had been icy that morning so she had opted for a cab. Big
mistake. There would be a dozen Christmas parties this Thursday
night, the last night before Christmas Eve and cabs would be like
hen's teeth. She idly noticed Skinner turn his vehicle onto the
road. He spotted Scully and pulled over.

"Agent Scully?" He called from the window, "I just called your
office a few moment's ago, can I give you a lift, I'd like to talk
to you for a few minutes?"

Scully gratefully stepped in, fastened her seat belt and turned
her head, frowning slightly as she tried to clear her muzzy brain
to concentrate. "Yes Sir?"

"Agent Scully, I've had a request passed to me through diplomatic
channels regarding a matter about which I believe agent Mulder may
have already been contacted."

Just this once, Scully wished Skinner could edit his speech to
marginally less convoluted.

"You mean Dale Forrester"

"Lord Forrester, yes. I understand the professor roomed with
Mulder." "At Oxford." Scully added.

"You have met, good, I knew he was in up at forensics but wasn't
sure if he had contacted Mulder yet. I've been trying to locate
Agent Mulder but his phone seems to be off. Yours too."

Scully raised her eyebrows in surprise and reached for her cell
phone. She pulled her lips to one side wondering why she had not
seen the battery warning.

Skinner glanced across at the red light. Scully caught his eye but
he remained as inscrutable and aloof as ever.

"Agent Scully, can I take it that Mulder will be attending the
Ambassador's reception this evening?"

"Yes Sir, Dale invited us." Scully was wondering if protocol
demanded she call him Lord or Professor. He had asked her to call
him Dale but she mentally shrugged that informality off when
Skinner raised his eyebrows.

"Agent Scully, I'd like to make it clear from the outset that I
have no intention or desire to take you away from DC over
Christmas. Mulder will have all the resources of Scotland Yard to
fall back on, including forensics experts."

"Are you saying that you don't want me on this assignment, Sir?"
Her tone could not be defined as bristly, but wasn't far from it.

Skinner breathed deeply before replying. The connection between
these two agents went far beyond anything he had ever seen or
experienced. Theirs was a synergous relationship of philosophical
opposites that he could not begin to explain, although he'd been
required to, on countless occasions by his peers and superiors.
Their loyalty to one another surpassed any agency pairing he had
ever witnessed. He was almost waiting for the day when one of them
revealed they communicated telepathically, yet he was equally
certain they had not broken protocol to become sexually involved.
He sometimes wondered why not, it wasn't as if they hadn't broken
just about every other rule in the manual. Attempts to separate
them, to destroy the X-files had driven them even closer.

"I can assure you this is not some nefarious attempt to separate
or discredit you or agent Mulder. Sometimes, Agent Scully, a cigar
is just a cigar. You are long overdue for leave, it's Christmas
and the request was for Mulder. There was no insistence for Mulder
alone, it's just that I felt, under the circumstances, you might
like to give this one a miss. " Scully smiled and looked down at
her hands. Paranoia had become as much a part of her life as
breathing.

"Sir, can I ask what this case is about?"

"Two kidnapped U.S. citizens have just been found dead in Britain.
Because of the unusual circumstances, Lord Forrester suggested to
Scotland Yard that Agent Mulder's expertise might be beneficial.
The request also came via the State Department. Are you familiar
with the British parliamentary system?" Scully shook her head no.

"I'm not really up on it myself but Forrester sits on the House of
Lords. We would have gone along with Scotland Yard's request,
Forrester simply cemented it by going through the correct State
Department channels."

"What's Forrester's connection with the crime?"

"The bodies were found on his Estate. I was made aware of his
prior friendship with Mulder and it seemed appropriate that he be
assigned."


Scully was definitely going to run a blood check on herself.
Someone using the right channels had requested Mulder and received
the FBI's blessing to run a legitimate case, although whether it
proved an X-file remained to be seen. She really could give this
one a miss and enjoy Christmas alone. Great.

Her mother had finally splurged on a cruise and her brothers were
stationed away from DC. They'd gotten together for Thanksgiving
instead. And friends? Everyone had set their plans, plans that had
included an invitation to Scully, which she politely refused
knowing something or someone would come up with a way to ruin
them.

Not that she considered it exactly ruining them. Let's be honest,
Dana Scully, you follow Mulder on his insane crusades because
you're damned well fascinated by them.

Still, just once, it would be nice to enjoy a normal Christmas.
She could always call Ellen and spend the day with her best friend
and Godson. That would be a nice.

Nice.

Unusual circumstances, hm. At least she could find out what it was
about. That couldn't do any harm.

"Sir, If you have no objections, Forrester asked me to attend this
evening and I am curious."

Skinner rolled his head in agreement. "Fine, I just felt it would
be an opportunity for you to take a little time for yourself. You
can make a decision after the briefing. I'll have the background
paperwork ready tonight." He motioned to a file protruding from in
his briefcase.


Scully showered, then considered her wardrobe. She possessed so
few formal evening gowns the choice was pretty limited. Still, she
mused, it was not as if they were ever worn much. Her mind kept
throwing out images of Mulder's wedding ring and Diana, but she
pushed them aside like pieces of an annoying jigsaw puzzle,
knowing they would fit together....almost seeing a twisted logical
pattern....

Scully opened her jewelry box and removed a pair of mismatched
ruby and gold earrings. One hung only a half inch on her left lobe
while the other, identical in design, hung a good three inches
below the first. Scully had never worn them. Despite their unique
and frankly stunning design, she had disliked their imbalance.
They had been Melissa's and tonight, Scully would wear them not
simply because they matched the contrasting dark burgundy sleeves
of her midnight blue satin dress, but because the odd earrings
lent a counterweight to the afternoon's revelations.

Tonight, she was going out to an Ambassadorial Christmas party
where a rather attractive stranger would be in attendance. And for
once, she could dress as a woman, not a take-me-seriously-I'm-not-
a-woman-I'm-an-FBI-person, in what was still an essentially male
dominated fraternity.

That was one thing about Mulder, she conceded, he treated her as
an equal. He was often gracious, displaying the unconscious
gestures of a gentleman raised to respect women. And he could be
frustratingly overprotective. Yet she could never recall him being
chauvinistic. To be sure his teasing double entendres were overtly
sexual at times, but that was a manifestation of his sharp, often
wicked sense of humor.

Wasn't it.

In defense, she occasionally floored him by giving as good as she
got. Scully sighed, despite herself, she even understood Mulder's
frequent desertions. They were either to protect his partner and
friend from the consequences of his own personal demons, or a
backhanded compliment in his confidence that she could take care
of herself. Or, truth to tell, because he would not allow her to
reign him in from doing what he damned well pleased.

Still, Scully refused to admit that a part of her careful
ministration to her hair (up) and make up (down and to one side to
cover that scar) were to show Mulder than sometimes, just
occasionally, she could be a woman, not simply his female, albeit
equal partner.

Freud could have done a lot with her that night, if she had let
him into the front door of her mind.


Mulder berated his stupidity all the way to his apartment that
evening. Goddammit why in hell hadn't he told her about his
marriage to Diana? Jesus it wasn't as if it was for long. It was a
stupid, pubescent mistake. He should have told Scully about Diana.
He should have explained why he trusted Diana.

He should have told Scully a great many things. But the more the
two woman came into contact with each other, the more Mulder
thought it was better to leave sleeping dogs lie. Especially when
Scully turned into a rabid bitch every time Diana came within
fifty feet.

Could she be jealous?

Yeah, right Mulder, jealous. Every time he'd come near to
overstepping those bounds she had gently but firmly made it clear
such attentions, although inoffensive, were not desired. That
Scully loved him, he had no doubt, but she very wisely restricted
that to their platonic partnership, their friendship.

God how often had he nearly overstepped that mark? How often he'd
come close to misinterpreting her affection, her trust, her love
and let his hormones try and drag their incredible relationship
into something as base as mere sex? She gave him everything and
all he gave her in return was grief. Bill Scully had the rights of
it. He was one sorry son of a bitch.

Mulder sighed to himself as he stood, eyes closed, under the
shower. But Jesus she looked good in a shower. Especially when she
was furious. Mulder's mind wandered to the Christmas present he'd
purchased that morning. He'd toyed with the idea for days,
wondering if it was all wrong but maybe, just maybe it would serve
at least in part as an apology for not telling her about Diana.

Christ Mulder, don't be so fucking pitiful. Scully didn't need
such a callow device to be placated. Scully was....Scully. She
would always be there. His partner understood enough of the
complex emotional baggage he carried with him to also understand
this, too. And take pity on his sorry son of a bitch soul to
forgive him yet again.

He had long since become dependent on Scully's tight grasp of the
normal world. Like an insane kite in a hurricane, he depended on
her sanity to anchor him while he freely embraced the titanic
winds of extreme possibilities. Sometimes he deliberately cast
himself adrift, but Scully always came to save him from himself.

He couldn't blame Dale for mentioning the marriage. It had become
meaningless ancient history. He couldn't even recall the last time
he'd thought about it. But its' legacy was an unswerving belief
that Diana could be trusted. The closeness forged and more
importantly the drift apart had left him with that, if nothing
else. Scully deserved an explanation but not tonight. He needed to
talk with her alone. It had waited this long, it could wait for
now.

Mulder left is apartment more resolute than ever to let Scully
have this one Christmas free from his unique brand of insanity.
Whatever Dale had up his sleeve could wait a few days.


Since A.D. Skinner had to drive right by her place, he'd offered
to pick Scully up just before eight. The Ambassador's residence
was only a few blocks south. He pulled up just as Scully stepped
from her building. A light dusting of snow promised a heavier fall
later in the evening. Skinner's eyebrows lifted and Scully
actually caught a ghost of a smile as she settled into the car.

"Agent Scully, I have to say you look.." he hesitated, then
rephrased to a more politically correct "..dressed appropriately
this evening."

"Thank you sir. It's been a while since I've attended an
ambassadorial function."

Skinner did not reply as they turned the corners slowly. The road
was getting icier by the minute. "I've already signed approvals
for flights to London tomorrow and whatever other travel
arrangements need to be made." Skinner motioned to a sealed
documents case beside him "There's a ticket at the service counter
for you, but I'd like to reiterate you are under no obligation to
go along. My advise to you Agent Scully is, take a break while you
can."

Scully smiled to herself. Skinner was as enigmatic and mercurial
as Mulder at times, but she appreciated his concern. Maybe he was
right. She was just curious, that's all.

As they drove into the British Ambassador's residence it suddenly
struck Scully that if the FBI's Christmas present to Mulder was an
approved case with no arguments over travel expenses, then maybe
her Christmas to him should be her absence. For once he could
pursue his wild theories without her grounding his flights of
fancy into reality.

CHAPTER 4
BRITISH AMBASSADOR'S RESIDENCE
WASHINGTON D.C.

"Ah, I'm so pleased you came Dana!" Forrester smiled as he met
them at the entrance. One of the menservants had taken Scully's
coat. The Ambassador's Residence was as warm inside as Scully
expected and she was glad of her choice in evening wear. Forrester
beamed at her satiny beauty. "Why you look most lovely! I must
take Fox to task for not being more descriptive in his emails. I
might have crossed the Atlantic much sooner had I known." His hand
barely touched the lower half of her back in a familiar gesture as
he led Scully into the reception room.

It took Scully a few moments to realise that the hand was not
Mulders.


Skinner was shaking hands with a Senator and nodded recognition as
Mulder arrived almost directly behind them. Mulder handed his coat
to a manservant and followed the direction of Skinner's frankly
appraising eyes. Forrester was walking beside a woman with an
extraordinarily beautiful pearly white back. Exposed by a plunging
midnight blue satin dress, her delicately arched spine tapered to
a finely rendered waste and beautifully rounded hips that
mesmerised Mulder. When Forrester's hand moved slightly, Mulder
caught sight of an exquisite tattoo. He blinked out of his reverie
as Forrester glanced behind and caught sight of him.

Forrester turned back "Ah, welcome my good Sherlock!"

The woman turned and the rest of her body and profile proved
equally.... "Scully?"

Without permission, his face grinned in surprised delight.

"Shylock." She smiled sweetly and allowed Forrester to turn her
back into the room, ignoring the almost audible snap as Mulder's
jaw climbed back up from the floor to join the rest of his face.

Mulder mentally grimaced but recovered his composure quickly. He
deserved all that was coming, but just at this moment in time, he
could see no reason not to admire her exquisite beauty. Mulder had
seen Scully naked on occasion, in situations he would sooner
forget, but in this context....no, he could not recall seeing her
like this before. And his eyes would catalogue and store this
particular memory to be unwrapped and enjoyed on future lonely
nights.

Forrester led them into the reception area, collecting eggnogs
from a waiter. Scully sipped, enjoying the fine, thick taste.
Mulder, except for a rare binge, was not big on alcohol. He
carried the glass untouched and deposited it on the nearest table
as they wound their way through the already crowded room. Blind to
the frankly admiring appraisals of the women he passed, Mulder was
amused and rather pleased that Scully turned heads, both male and
female. But as he entered the library, all his musings vanished,
ready to focus on the business at hand.

Forrester motioned for them to sit in the plush armchairs facing a
blazing fire. Mulder, choosing to stand by the mantelpiece,
remembered a time when even a small fire like this was disturbing.
He had faced those demons and overcome them. Forrester had
introduced him to Phoebe, Mulder wondered idly what other demons
his friend was about to unleash this time.

Skinner entered the room in conversation with a short, stocky, red
faced man whom Mulder recognised as the British Ambassador. A
tuxedoed security guard closed the door on the five of them and
Mulder briefly wondered why the Ambassador needed guarding in his
own home? Clearly, it was not so much the people, as the
discussion that required protection.

Introductions completed, Forrester began. "Firstly, thank you for
coming on such short notice." Forrester's demeanor changed from
casual boyishness to complete seriousness. Scully, like Mulder,
gave him her full attention. The beautiful woman in the satin
evening gown easily lapsed into the more familiar role of
investigator.

"I trust it is a given that this discussion remains in this room."
Forrester pulled a sealed plastic bag from his pocket and handed
it to Scully as he spoke "As you are aware, in 1997 British
scientists at the Roslin Institute in Scotland cloned a sheep
named Dolly. That event shook the medical world to its very
foundations. One day, cloning was the realm of imaginative science
fiction writers and the next, an accepted reality."

Scully glanced at Mulder a little uncomfortably. At one time she
had not accepted Mulder's insistence that his sister and possibly
numerous other clones were being used in some kind of vast
conspiracy. A conspiracy, yes; genetic testing and manipulation,
no doubt; horrendous experimental discards, like her daughter, all
fact. But cloning, no, not possible - until Dolly was revealed to
the world. Forrester was correct, the revelation had shocked her.
It had even started her thinking that Mulder may not always be as
far out as he seemed.

Mulder, the skeptic replied "I understood there was later some
question as to the validity of the results. That Dolly may in fact
have been pregnant when the cells were harvested."

"Quite so, but also quite untrue. That information was released by
researchers who left the original team and were unable to
replicate the procedure for their new benefactors. The identical
process has since been replicated successfully with rats."

Mulder nodded in acceptance.

"Despite the hysteric conclusion that humans would soon be cloned
en masse, the results of the procedure have proven to be a
profound springboard for many areas of research, from genetically
identical rats for controlled experiments to...well... I'm going
to ask you to shelve any moral indignation you may feel about
cloning and take you a step back into the techniques used." He
smiled in self depreciation "I would rather not bore you with a
lecture, so I'm going to ask Agent Scully if she might elaborate
because I have no doubt, as a medical doctor, you would have
grasped the implications immediately." Forrester directed his
final words to Scully, curious to hear her perspective.

Unfazed, Scully nodded "Tissue, organ and limb regeneration,"
Forrester nodded for her to go on. "In the first stages of a
normal reproductive cycle after fertilisation, cells divide and
multiply into an undifferentiated blastoplast - a ball of
reproducing cells. A combination of factors, hormonal and genetic,
soon intercedes, dictating that the cells differentiate in an
ordered pattern into specialty cells. Some become blood, bones,
muscle tissue and so on. It was always thought of as a linear,
irreversible order, the resultant being a complete, viable
organism. Once a cell had become part of an udder, for example it
had, in a biological sense, burned its bridges. It could not retro
develop and thence be redirected to reproduce itself and become,
say, a liver cell."

Forrester nodded his thanks and added "But cloning proved that the
developmental bridges could be rebuilt. The intent was not to
produce a thousand Bill Clinton look alikes," his audience
chuckled. "Nor for neo-Nazists to restore a thousand Hitlers. The
true magic of cloning resides in the ability to force an adult
cell to rethink its' place in the whole. If you can draw an udder

cell and reproduce and entirely new creature, could you not
reproduce just a part of that creature? A lung, a liver, a severed
limb or broke spinal column? "

"Like a salamander or a frog." Mulder interjected. He glanced at
Scully, they had been down similar roads before.

Forrester moved his head in a half motion "Somewhat, but on a far
more fundamental level. Imagine the benefits to medicine, to
mankind, if we could learn how to re-grow damaged tissue. And to
take it to the next level, to re-grow aging tissue, not from an
outside donor, but from the cells of our own bodies? The
implications are staggering. Make no mistake, Fox, this is very
real technology, it is not science fiction. The moralist may decry
that potential damaging applications far outweigh the benefits. I
consider myself to be an ethical man and I must beg to differ."

The Ambassador shifted in his seat and Forrester realised he was
falling into lecture mode. "If you are skeptical Fox, I dare say
your partner can enlighten you with the facts."

Mulder glanced at Scully who simply lifted an amused eyebrow.

"I wanted to establish that cloning is a viable procedure, as a
prelude to asking for your assistance. Dana can you hold up the
bag I gave you earlier?"

Scully lifted it into the light.

"It contains, " Forrester continued "A piece of femur from a
prehistoric creature called a Plesiosaur.

"The Loch Ness monster." Mulder quipped.

Scully did everything in her power not to groan.

"Yes," Chuckled Forrester, "The supposed Loch Ness Monster, but I
know that even you would not go chasing after such fantasies
without solid evidence." Scully sent an expressionless look to
Mulder.

"Except this bone...." Forrester continued "Is indicative that
such a creature might still exist. You see, it was carbon dated,
numerous times I might add, at 150ya, plus or minus 10 years."

Forrester allowed his audience to digest that information and the
Ambassador spoke for the first time. "I agreed to be here to lend
credence to this background information. The skeletons, I have
been assured by numerous paleontologists, are quite genuine,
although the dating....well that's another matter. It was found in
a meadow not far from Loch Meade during a search by Scotland Yard
for, um, missing persons." The Ambassador nodded for Forrester to
continue.

"The remains of these missing persons were recovered with the
bones of the dinosaurs. That was five months ago. Since then, more
missing persons have been found within a seven mile radius of the
Loch, although no further plesiosaur bones have been located.

"Due to the odd concurrence of the plesiosaur and human bones,
potassium argon as well as carbon dating was attempted, but the
results were senseless. The physical condition of the bones,
calcium content and brittleness was simply too....similar and
modern...to make any sense. The final C14 results indicated that
the initial sets of bones, both human and dinosaur died at around
the same time, approximately 150ya. However the physical
properties of the bones indicate they all died far more recently
that two centuries ago. The other human bones have been dated from
400 to 700 ya."

"But didn't you say these were missing persons?" Scully asked,
frowning.

"Quite. The physical evidence, the porosity, tensile strength and
calcium content lend credence to a far more recent death. Perhaps
only a few months. As you may know, C dating is unreliable when
tissue samples are expose to modern post mortem radiation. Our
changing atmospheric radioactivity level since the industrial
revolution and the reverse, the atmospheric nuclear explosions,
has skued the results so that C dating of modern samples is
somewhat more difficult.

"Following this discrepancy, all remains were tested again and
again and three more occasions in different labs around the world.
We managed to hurry up the process - it can take up to 12 months
to get results - and all the C14 dates were consistent. Now
Scotland Yard has disregarded the C14 dates as being an ambiguity.
The problem to the paleontologists, whom you might understand are
rather desperate to prove the real age of the plesiosaur, is
nothing to do with your involvement. However I'm telling you
because it is part of the....unusual aspects of the situation.

"DNA tests were run on all samples of the human remains, then
later on the plesiosaur's - oh, did I mention there were eight
individual plesiosaur's found at the first site?. Anyway, that's
where it began to get interesting. All the plesiosaur bones were
genetically identical."

"Siblings?" Scully asked.

"Jurassic Park?" Mulder quipped at the same time.

"We presumed your conclusion to be correct, Dana," Forrester
grinned at Mulder "Though spontaneous regeneration gets you an A
for imagination, Fox, until genetic tests were run on all of the
human remains. The finds were very disturbing. Of the fifty three
skeletons found at the first site, there appeared to be only ten
unique DNA patterns. The remainder were genetically identical
individuals to the ten.

"None of these missing persons had identical twin brothers or
sisters. Scotland Yard scrutinised sealed records for the
possibility that siblings had been adopted out. Understand that
the genetic similarities were not simply close, they were
doppelgangers, five to six for each individual, mixed amongst the
remains of the plesiosaur bones. For all intents and purposes the
humans and the plesiosaurs appear to be clones."

Mulder interrupted. "You said these human remains were from
missing persons."

"I'm getting there Fox, just bear with me a moment longer. You are
aware of course that Americans are not the only ones who believe
they have been abducted by UFO's. We British also have our fair
share of so called abductees. All of the missing persons had
claimed to at least two prior experiences of alien abductions. And
all of the remains were found in an area close to concentrated UFO
sightings the prior evening."

Mulder took a deep breath, glanced at Scully and sat down.

Exasperation washed over Scully. Hadn't they had enough of this?
It was over! The consortium was dead! Skinner was right. She was
definitely going to let this one pass.

The Ambassador stood and straightened his suit. "At this point my
opinion as to what might have occurred ceases. It is not my
position to speculate on such matters, however as the latest find
uncovered two United States citizens, Scotland Yard and the
Foreign Office agreed that U.S. Federal law enforcement agencies
should be involved, especially as kidnapping seems to have
occurred.

"Frankly, I think Scotland Yard would be most grateful to hand the
entire mess over to someone with more....expertise in this field."

The Ambassador smiled and shook each of their hands "It was a
pleasure to meet you and I do hope you will be able to stay on for
supper. I can arrange to have you served in here so you may
discuss the matter further."

"Thank you Ambassador, unfortunately I'm due at another function
in an hour, however Agent Mulder?" Skinner replied.

The Ambassador smiled as Mulder nodded his acceptance.

"Agent Scully would you like a ride home?"

Mulder blinked, his resolve to leave Scully out of this long since
forgotten. But one look at his partner and he realised she was
going to walk away.

Skinner glanced at Mulder and said "As you will have Scotland
Yard's full resources, I've given Agent Scully time off over
Christmas. I think it's about due." Skinner's steely 'don't even
think about disagreeing with me' look squashed Mulder's rejoinder.

But Forrester had already taken her by the elbow and asked "I do
hope you will stay," Scully looked into his warm eyes and felt
herself slipping "Because I would very much like to dance with you
after dinner."

Mulder's chameleon eyes whirled, silently thanking Dale for his
invariably irresistible charm.

When the Ambassador and Skinner left, Forrester spoke "Oh and I've
saved the most intriguing for last. The U.S. citizens whom we
found? They were but part of a collection, however there's were
the only bodies not fully decomposed, in fact hardly touched. I.D.
was even found on them. That was on Monday 20th."

"Passports?" Scully asked, then kicked herself for showing
interest.

"Oh no, just driver's licenses. You see they were reported missing
from a campsite near Seattle, on Sunday evening. Sunday the 19th.

CHAPTER 5
BRITISH AMBASSADOR'S RESIDENCE
WASHINGTON D.C.

Over an excellent dinner Forrester regaled Scully with anecdotes
from their years at Oxford. Most of his tales involved campus
pranks. His friend Fox had apparently many devious ways and means
to foil their erstwhile pursuers, thus saving Forrester from
prosecution.

"I tell you my dear, without Fox I would have been expelled a
dozen times. Of course he had to have some redeeming qualities as
a room mate because tidiness was not one!

Mulder smiled indulgently "I always knew where to find a clean
tie."

"Yes of course you did, in my wardrobe! Although I must admit to a
certain fascination as to how you managed to dress so well. In
fact you still seem to have that knack and I doubt your slovenly
habits have changed, if one considers your office! How do you do
it?"

"Natural talent." Mulder was well pleased to see Forrester.
Pleased to recall what were in many ways, happier times. His
childhood had been lost with Samantha, but he had come to accept
his helplessness and guilt as a disabled person accepts a physical
limitation. Forrester had taught him how to laugh again.


"So, what do you really think of our Nessy story?" Forrester
finally asked after dessert had been cleared and coffee sat before
them.

Scully's face took on a vaguely sad demeanor. Forrester, obviously
charmed by her, noticed immediately "Oh my dear lady, whatever is
the matter?"

"The last one ate her dog," Mulder replied, oddly pleased at
Forrester's attentiveness. He also found it faintly amusing how
easily Scully could be charmed.

Forrester was clearly taken back by Mulder's statement.

Scully threw her partner a look. "It was a crocodile." She sighed
resignedly, then after a pause, "His name was Queequeg."

Forrester blinked, "The crocodile?"

Mulder, who had disliked the hairy rat sized Pomeranian on sight,
burst out laughing "The dog."

"Oh," Forrester frowned in confusion, "Fox you really must be a
bit clearer in your emails. Still, we'll have plenty of time to
catch up over the next few days. Now, you are both going to be
guest in my Castle," he whispered into Scully's ear "It's haunted,
you know. Nothing like Christmas in a haunted castle!"

Scully put down her dessert spoon and glared at Mulder. "I'm sorry
Mulder, I'm not going."

The expression of hurt innocence on his friend's face was not lost
on Forrester.

"Oh, my dearest Dana, I must humbly apologise for ruining your
Christmas, you can't blame Fox for this. It is entirely my fault,
you may shoot me if you like!"

"She's better at shooting me." Mulder quipped.

"Mulder I never shot you, you shot me first." Scully replied
softly, but just a little indignantly.

"I did not shoot you first. I did not shoot you at all. I have
never shot you. You, however, have shot me."

"Mulder that was entirely different." Scully said a little more
forcefully.

"Children, children would you stop squabbling!" Forrester put his
hands up. "I have never before felt so much like I keep putting my
foot in my mouth." He muttered to himself, but then he peered
anxiously at Mulder and asked "Did she really shoot you?"

Mulder nodded, "Scar proves it. And lest you forget, Scully's a
doctor."

Forrester stiffened a fraction, but then grinned. "Ah, but not a
practicing one, and given the number of times I could cheerfully
have shot you myself, I can only empathise."

"C'mon Scully, it'll be fun!" Mulder had completely forgotten his
promise to himself. He began pulling up memories of Christmas at
Loch Meade and turned on his small boy enthusiasm. It had hooked
her before.

It always did she inwardly sighed. But just this once, Scully
wanted to stand her ground. "Mulder, I am not going. I mean it, I
agreed to spend Christmas with Ellen and...."

"You told me you didn't have any plans for Christmas." Mulder shot
back.

Forrester instantly acted on this snippet in a long practiced
maneuver to lure girls to their parties. "Oh my dear you have
never had Christmas until you've had one in an English Castle."

Dammit, thought Scully, those plesiosaurs must be fakes.

But what if they weren't?

"The log fires and carol singers, eggnogs to die for and plum
pudding to live for, giant Christmas trees in the library and..."
Mulder continued Forrester's verbal picture, cheerfully attacking
Scully's archilles heel.

"And sleigh rides and snow fights with the children and...."
Forrester added.

Both men's words surrounded the diminutive but stubborn redhead,
eroding her resistance. They grinned as they watched her crack.

Forrester added the final touch "Grace me with a dance and let me
beg your forgiveness for ruining Christmas. I promise to make up
for it a hundred fold, while you, Fox old chap can go out and be
fawned by all those lovely Washington socialites."

And with that, he held out has hand and swept Scully from the
room.


Mulder stood for quite a while at the entrance to the ballroom,
idly watching the passing parade of the overdressed Washington
set. He did not feel out of place, such parties had been an
integral part of his life even after Samantha disappeared. They
served to remind him, as he fobbed off the attentions of two
stunning she sharks, of why he did not bother to socialise much.
Eventually, his eyes found Forrester and Scully dancing and he
smiled a little sadly. They made an attractive couple, he thought.

It was an odd sensation watching her with Dale. Forrester was a
genuinely good man with nothing less than a brilliant intellect.
As a student Dale had a knack for charming a whole bevy of leggy
undergrads into bed. Mulder knew that nothing had changed in his
taste for attractive women. And Scully sure as hell fit into that
category, especially tonight. Age and maturity, perhaps even
adversity had made her even more beautiful, Mulder considered as
he watched the couple weave across the floor. Although it was rare
to see her smile, tonight her face was free from their daily
horrors. Tonight Dana Katherine Scully looked beautiful beyond
words.


He'd never forget his first impression as she came to his basement
office all those years ago. It had greatly surprised him that
someone with such a keen intellect could be as attractive and
fresh faced as young Dana Katherine. The file photos had done her
no justice. Mulder had been flippant, but found himself being a
little less mean hearted than his usual arrogant self. And God
alone knows why, she had stayed, moved in and gently taken over
his heart and soul. What a contrast to the likes of Phoebe.

Of course Dale had been astute enough to avoid Phoebe. Oh, no,
only the sorry son of a bitch Mulder fell into that trap, he
thought. And Dale had helped him pick up some of the pieces and
patch them back into a semblance of order. If Scully needed male
attention of a type he could not give, then he was perversely
pleased Forrester was providing it. Mulder shook his head. Looking
like that, Scully deserved all the male attention she was getting.


Forrester saw Mulder approaching and stepped apart from Scully
with a grin on his face. Scully had caught her partner's casual
approach. Perhaps it was the eggnogs and wine, but it suddenly
struck her there was a raw sexuality to Mulder. His darkened eyes
held her fixated in an almost predatory manner, oblivious to the
outright looks of lust from women he brushed against as he crossed
the dance floor.

Scully looked down and blinked. Too many eggnogs, Dana.

"Ah Fox, I shall allow you this only because you are my friend. I
would insist on the next dance but," he turned to Scully,
"Regrettably I have to fly out in a few hours, I have a few things
to attend in London before the Christmas weekend. However my man
will meet you at the airport tomorrow." With that he smiled, bowed
and kissed Scully's hand.

Like the Captain's daughter that she was, Scully accepted the
gesture with grace, then allowed Mulder to her to take her into
his arms.

Mulder, Scully thought, was surprisingly good. This was only the
second occasion they had danced together and the first seemed like
a hazy dream. She caught the eyes of several women watching him
and bathed in the pleasure of having danced with what were without
argument the two most attractive men in the room. It was nice. For
a few minutes she allowed herself to relax in his arms, forgetting
what she was and that he was her partner. Forgetting the
strictures that such a relationship brought.

Mulder absorbed the smell of her perfume and the touch of her
skin. There could be no more between them than this. That was the
unwritten rule. For the second time that night he chided himself
almost succumbing to mere lust when what Scully offered
transcended such base needs. God alone knew if he had nothing more
than this, he had more than most men could ever dream, and for
that he was grateful beyond words.

"You look beautiful tonight, Scully." He whispered into her ear
and was pleased at her small smile. A compliment she well
deserved, no hidden agenda, no sub text, truly. But her closeness
and her smell and the soft curve of her lips and the feel of her
body caught him off guard. He turned his hips apart from hers in
the natural movement of the dance, hoping that if Scully had
noticed, she would not be offended. It crossed his mind that she
had never been offended in the past. But then he'd never been
holding her like this in the past. He put the thought aside.
Scully was a doctor, nuff said.

Scully had forgotten how the normal act of close dancing allowed
each to feel the full form of the other's body. The proximity to
Forrester was a pleasant, inoffensive reminder. Such awareness of
masculinity was no different to occasional hugs with Mulder, no
different from wrestling with her brothers. This, however, was
different for it was a clear indication that the male in Mulder
was not only present, but operational. Almost before it had
registered, she felt him casually turn his hips and separate
himself from her slightly. Yet in her slightly egg nog haze, it
struck her that she enjoyed detecting these occasional erections.

Tight jeans watching sport, morning boxers, washing him when he
was sick, asleep sprawled out on a couch, a half dozen images
fleetingly recalled over the years. Two people could not spend as
much time in as close proximity as they did, without her noticing.
Hell, if his body did not elicit such reflex actions, as a Doctor
she would have been seriously concerned.

But this time he had been dancing with her.

Agent Scully wiped the eggnog from her consciousness. She was
neither offended nor did she read too much into it. It was a male
hormonal response to her as a woman, flattering but unintentional.
And Mulder, ever the gentleman, moved as graciously as possible to
avoid offense. She was pleased that on this occasion at least, it
was most definitely her that elicited this. But teasing was not,
could not ever be Scully's style. She waited until the end of the
dance, then gently pulled further back to speak. "I should be
getting home Mulder, it's getting late."

Releasing her from his embrace but still holding her hand, he
leaned close to reply "Did you bring your car?"

"No, Skinner gave me a lift."

"I'll drive you home Scully." Mulder kept her hand as they crossed
the dance floor and out to reception, releasing it only to assist
her with her overcoat.


Mulder took considerable care driving from the Ambassador's
residence. Snow fell lightly and they sat in comfortable silence
until Mulder said "I need you on this one Scully."

Scully sighed, not wanting this conversation "Mulder, I really
need a break. Scotland Yard forensics is every bit as good as
ours. They have excellent pathologists and I'm sure you'll have
plenty of assistance. Mulder how long were you married?"

He took a deep breath and felt his stomach lurch. "Where did you
learn to change gears like that?"

"From an expert. Mulder, I'm not going. How long were you
married..." The warmth and closeness of their dance evaporated.

"To Diana?" Scully added.

His testicles beat a fast retreat upwards, colliding with his
dropping stomach. Second time tonight, he thought. He couldn't
reply until his voice changed from Soprano.

"Look, I understand there are parts of your life that are private,
that have nothing to do with work or me but..."

He reached across and placed a hand on her thigh, just above her
knee. It was only a touch, just an affectionate gesture between
friends, a prelude to an apology, a request for understanding,
perhaps...but she stiffened in surprise. Mulder misinterpreted and
immediately brought his hand back to the steering wheel.

"Scully, this is not something I...I can explain in five minutes
but," he conceded as he held up his hand "An explanation is
warranted. Look, I'll talk about it on the plane tomorrow."

Scully sighed. "Mulder, I am not going."

"Christmas trees and snow, castles and fairies - did you know
about the fairies living in the bottom of the estate grounds? No?
Well, Dale will tell you all about it when...."

"Mulder," Scully said more forcefully, "I. Am. Not. Going. I'll
see you when you get back."

They had reached her building and he pulled over. Their eyes met a
moment then Scully smiled gently, ready once again to forgive him
for being himself, but equally determined to have time out.

"G'nite G woman." His darkened eyes looked tired and a little
haunted.

"Goodnight Mulder, Merry Christmas."

He smiled and inclined his head in a silent return. The small box
sat forgotten in his coat pocket.

CHAPTER 6
CHRISTMAS EVE
MID ATLANTIC FLIGHT 704 TO LONDON

Mulder closed his eyes, enjoying the rich taste of the greasy
bacon and fried hash browns. Scully looked on disdainfully as she
spooned more fruit onto her cereal. Airline food was generally
something to be avoided, but she'd over slept. The consequent rush
to the airport had resulted in a sour feeling in her stomach. She
idly wondered if it was an incipient ulcer. Mulder said nothing as
he handed Scully her ticket at the check in counter, but his
completely expressionless face irritated her.

"Shut up, Mulder."

They'd checked their arms with security and boarded the plane. For
once, the Bureau had dug into its pockets and placed them in
business class. Then reality set in as Scully realised economy was
full.

"One morning Mulder, you're going wake up forty pounds overweight
and a triple coronary bypass scheduled for 10 am." But she envied
his hyperactive metabolism. Scully liked her sleep and could never
keep up with Mulder's predawn runs, so her diet reflected a more
sedentary lifestyle. The best she could manage was a swim two or
three times each week. Mulder frequently joined her, but Scully
invariably left long before he had even warmed up.

Running, swimming or working, it didn't matter, he was single
minded and passionate about everything, driving himself far beyond
normal limits. Not for the first time Scully sympathised with his
mother. His full-speed-ahead-and-damned-the-torpedos attitude to
life must have made him a holy terror as a child.

"Hey Scully, if you're not going to eat that, can I have it?"

Scully swapped dining trays with him "You are what you eat."

"Oh yeah Scully, that's me all right, fast, cheap and easy." He
leered at her wolfishly.

"Fast huh?"

"In the right context Scully, or I can be as slow as your little
heart desires." One day, he thought, one day he might just keep
pushing to see if he could get a blush. It had never happened yet,
but it was a lot of fun trying.


After breakfast was cleared they perused the background files on
the case. Eventually their discussion turned to the area where the
remains were found, the extensive Forrester Estate around Loch
Meade.

"How long have you known Forrester?" Scully asked, hoping to jog
something of his past from him, perhaps even steering the
conversation to his marriage.

"Dale?" he chuckled, "Dale's old man decided that if his second
son was going to be an Oxford Don, a family tradition I might add,
he should begin from the ground up. He made Dale share digs with
other students right from his undergrad days. I really can't
recall how we ended up flatting together," Scully blinked at
Mulder's oddly English terminology "But they were some of the
funniest years of my life."

Mulder smiled in fond memory. "I seriously considered staying on
and taking up a teaching position, but then Scotland Yard and the
FBI were working on a joint case. Their analysts were doing some
background research and I kinda got involved. It was fascinating,
far beyond anything I'd ever dealt with before."

"And you were good at it." Scully added softly.

"Yeah, yeah I was. And I liked it, so next thing you know I'm
shooting cardboard cut outs at Quantico." Mulder closed his eyes
and leaned back into the seat. "Y'know," he suddenly said "I never
really thought of myself as married."

Scully waited for him to look at her but he didn't. After a while
she realised he was telling the story to himself as much as her.
Getting him to open up about anything was a rare moment in her
life with him, so she sat unmoving, listening, trying to
understand.


The wedding ring had sat on his finger just three months. As
graduates straight out of the Academy they had worked together and
quickly become lovers. It was a common occurrence, one Scully
herself had indulged in. But as time passed they had not seen it
as a casual affair. At least Mulder had not considered it casual
at the time. Samantha's loss left him with a perennial sense of
guilt and helplessness, evidenced by his generally self
destructive personal relationships. Because Diana was not
destructive he thought of her as special and he thought he was in
love.

Although officially forbidden and replete with reprimands,
relationships between FBI agents were generally more stable than
those between agents and civilians. It was a common problem with
law enforcement agencies. If agents were married to other
agents....well, the divorce rate was lower. Of course maintaining
a personal relationship, be it marriage or otherwise strictly
prohibited them from working together, especially in the field. He
was a psychologist, he knew better than anyone the soundness of
such protocol. It was no different to any law enforcement or
military force, anywhere in the world.

But he and Diana naturally discussed cases at home, each assisting
the other with insight and observations.

While creating an unofficial psychological profile for a case of
Diana's, they had inadvertently stumbled across the X-files. Their
contents intrigued him. When he was not melding himself into the
minds of violent murderers, he poured over the strange stories of
alien abductions and unexplained phenomena.

Diana saw the odd files as riddles and good late night reading
when Stephen King bored her. Mulder saw not questions, but roads
to the truth. Through obligatory self analysis at Oxford, Mulder
had long since fabricated protective walls, learning to live with
the emotional disability of Samantha's loss and his parents
unvoiced accusations. Despite his own problems, Mulder had an
unparalleled ability to plunge into the souls of psychotic killers
and emerge physically ragged and spiritually bruised, but
essentially unscathed. Scully herself had witnessed this
terrifying ability. The X-files, however, did what the criminally
insane could not, they tore his fragile psychological walls
asunder with terrifying glimpses into the truth. The truth about
Samantha, about himself.

His obsession grew so that nothing else, including Diana,
mattered. Mulder began reliving past guilt, suffering profound
mood swings and horrific nightmares. On two consecutive nights his
midnight hauntings resulted in Diana physically knocked from the
bed to the floor. By the end of the month, she had gone not just
from their bed, but from his life.

Psychologist, analyze thyself. Mulder chuckled mirthlessly at the
memory. He recognised the symptoms; with the crumbling walls
resurged ancient guilts and self doubt. This made him unworthy of
Diana's love and so he had pushed her away. There had been no
recriminations, no bitterness, in fact he could recall only a few
real spats. Diana, the strong one, understood him and knew he
could not be saved until he found his answers. She had tried to
help, tried to get him to seek help, but he built higher and
thicker walls, not to lock the guilt and impotence over Samantha
out, but to lock them in and Diana out, to exclude everything but
his quest. Mulder was grateful when Diana left, grateful that the
emotional burden of loving her had been removed so that he could
concentrate on finding his catharsis.

Nothing else mattered.


In those days he was still the FBI's fair haired boy. It was
quietly suggested that the marriage be annulled, stricken from the
record as if it had never been. A cover up, Mulder shook his head
in disgust. A cover up he had sanctioned for the good of her
career. He didn't care about his own life, but Diana....he owed
her that much. Just a small lie, of no consequence, he told
himself. Better for both of them if it had never happened. But in
time he learned that a lie must, by its very nature, lead to other
lies, other cover-ups.

Diana pursued her career while his mercuried downward into the
FBI's basement, his passion for the truth carried like a
protective charm he believed would one day free him from his
personal demons.

Mulder sighed. At first Scully thought he slept, but he added
"Diana didn't leave, I pushed her away. Yet throughout she
remained supportive, defensive of me and my work. She never once
betrayed my mental state to her supervisor or the psychologists,
knowing it might result in suspension. I trust her Scully. I trust
her judgment to do what is right and necessary, but to also temper
such decisions without betraying me, even when it goes against the
rules. Diana will sacrifice a smaller issue in order to save a
greater whole. I'm not martyring myself when I say she made the
best decision by leaving. I was incapable of loving her, of anyone
or anything. I believe if she had stayed, her rationalising would
have driven me to destroy us both. This way, we parted as friends
and I'll always consider her that way."


A part of Scully felt kicked in the stomach. She had no way to
explain it, but it was like a betrayal after the event. She had
shared so much with Mulder these past years, they had become a
world unto themselves. Their work excluded not just outside
personal relationships, but other FBI agents as well. Somehow,
somewhere along the line, it all came down to Mulder and Scully.
That Diana had been part of his life in such an intimate way, and
was still there, at the edges, felt invasive to Scully.

Afraid of what that reaction told her about herself, she said
nothing. Scully herself was a past master at building walls, solid
brick walls signifying her total control over herself. Yet as
angry and yes, she admitted, hurt by what Mulder had revealed, if
Diana had appeared right now, she would have been hard pressed not
to punch the woman for leaving Mulder all those years ago. Scully
herself would never have left a man she supposedly loved to
flounder in the ashes of a damaged psych.

Such powerful responsive emotions were not something Scully wished
to deal with, so she frowned and stared at her laptop, setting the
walls of professionalism around her like a protective blanket.

Scully mentally sighed. She owed Mulder some response, some
recognition that he had at least given her an explanation, yet all
she could think to say was "Why didn't you tell me before?"

"I don't know. It never occurred to me. It was so long ago, a
mistake. Why didn't you tell me about Jack?"

"I did."

"Not until it became relevant to the situation, I mean it's not
like we've ever sat down over a glass of wine and regaled gory
details of past lovers. Or maybe you have, with Eddie, I just
didn't think you were into that sort of thing, Scully."

How could he be so totally wrong and so damned right at the same
time? Mulder had never, ever mentioned Eddie Van Blundht since the
night he had burst into her apartment. God, that was so like him,
to pick up on something and throw it into a conversation like a
grenade, just to see the effect.

Scully forced her face into impassivity and grabbed her reasoning
self together before replying somewhat stiffly "I think that Diana
became relevant to our situation, to the X-files, some time ago. I
think it would have been easier for me to understand why you
trusted her if you had told me this before."

Mulder shrugged and waved his hand in a vague apology, "Okay,
maybe you're right, but I didn't think it was relevant. It was a
long time ago." Not for the first time, Scully wondered where the
hell he'd parked his doctorate in psychology to come up with a
statement like that.

Mulder watched her, waiting for some further reaction, but she had
become Scully again, unfathomable, business like, her interest
focussed on the computer screen. He'd only glimpsed her soul on
rare occasions of vulnerability, the most intense when reading the
journal she had written during her cancer treatment. He mentally
pulled in on himself. His marriage was of no consequence, but the
revelation might now reduce the antagonism Scully felt for Diana.
Then again, when it came to women being women, despite his years
at Oxford, he conceded to being clueless. He had neither time nor
emotions to invest in such mental gymnastics, hence his VHS
collection. Scully fulfilled his other needs, without any of the
clutter. Generally.


While Scully personally had no interest in the subject matter,
Mulder's unashamed enjoyment of porn had never bothered her. She
conceded it to his solitary existence. And truth to tell, that
somewhat adolescent predilection and understanding of male
psychology had saved lives and captured a murderer. Another woman
might have taken it as offensive, even suggestive but to Scully,
Mulder's flipping through one of his more sordid magazines in her
presence was indicative of their easygoing relationship. As
friends and partners they accepted one another, warts and all. As
friends they forgave one another transgressions that lovers could
not. Scully felt hurt for what he had kept from her, hurt because
of all people it had been Fowley, but she most definitely did not
want to shake her conflicting emotions apart and examine them
outside the bounds of their partnership, their friendship.

"D'you know" Mulder said quietly "As Freud lay dying, ravaged by
the advanced stages of syphilis, his last words were 'I shall
never understand women'?"

That elicited a small grin from her and he decided he was
forgiven.

CHAPTER 7
LONDON
CHRISTMAS EVE

Passport formalities were completed in short order. There had been
no problems with their weapons, which surprised Mulder. The Brits
were notoriously reticent allowing foreign law enforcement
officers onto their soil armed to the teeth. Then Scully was
pleasantly surprised to find that Forrester's chauffeur was a
helicopter pilot. They would fly directly from Heathrow to the
north of England, to Dale's Castle, bypassing busy London
altogether.

"Don't worry Scully, I promise to take you to see the Crown Jewels
before we go home."

As much as she disliked flying, the low level, clear weather trip
through the heart of England had been a delightful voyage into a
fairyland world. Snow lightly blanketed much of the country.
Thatched houses stood quaintly specked in icing sugar. Patches of
stark forest, occasional species till bearing green coats, were
all peppered with clean white. Even the industrial heart was, for
a rare moment, almost free of smog and grime, a recent snowfall
having covered the normally dank ugliness.

Finally, the helicopter began spiraling down when Mulder felt
Scully grab his arm. He looked across at his partner and couldn't
help grinning at her wide eyes. She gave him a 'why didn't you
tell me?' look and his eyes answered 'but I did'. Mulder glanced
down at the castle and warm memories flooded back. Scully would
like it here.

Once inside the castle, the main doors were closed to block the
whomp whomp of the helicopter. A butler took their overcoats "So
nice to see you again Master Mulder." Despite his formality, the
man's eyes expressed delight.

Mulder grinned and insisted on shaking his hand. "C'mon Jeeves,
I'm all grown up now, you can call me Mulder."

The Butler turned to Scully and welcomed her to Castle Lochmeade.
"My name is Hubert," he went on to introduce another five
uniformed staff lined up in the hallway, stating that over twenty
full time servants worked at the Castle and immediate grounds.

Scully felt a little overwhelmed by the grace and old English
charm. It was entirely different to D.C. even at its most formal.

"His Lordship is not yet back from the City, but he suggested you
might like to change before flying to the Loch. The helicopter and
a car will be at your disposal at all times. Would you be dining
in, or would you like a luncheon packed?"

Scully didn't need to look at her partner to know his response.

"Just a couple of sandwiches would be great, Jeeves, we want to
get going as soon as we've changed."

Hubert nodded and motioned they should follow Sally, one of the
upstairs maids. As they walked, Scully's eyes roamed over wall
hangings and tapestries, coats of arms, medieval armor and
exquisite furnishings. Everywhere, elegant, tasteful decorations
reminded her it was Christmas.

"Mulder, why didn't you tell me about this place?" She couldn't
keep a silly grin off her face.

"I hadn't given it much thought, it's been a long time." Scully
knew he was alluding to his marriage. Fair enough, she reasoned,
he had not shared this aspect of his life with her either. He had
not hidden it deliberately, it had just never come up before. It
would take her a while to digest his marriage to Diana Fowley, but
she could no longer be angry with him.

Diana, however, was another matter.

"Does Dale own the Castle?" Scully motioned around her.

The maid opened a door and gestured for them to enter. Mulder
ushered Scully before him with a hand gently on her lower back.
"The castle, much of the village, most of the land around the
loch....I have no idea how many acres beyond that. His father
gifted a great deal of the original holdings to local farmers,
retaining only a propriety interest. He was a keen old buzzard,
when English aristocracy was all but toppled by the Labor
government tax laws in the sixties, Lord Forrester invested
heavily in fledgling American computer companies. The old boy made
enough to guarantee the future of his family and the estates.
Unfortunately, he and Dale's older brother were killed in a yacht
race while we were at Oxford. Dale accepted the title and
inheritance, but insisted on remaining an academic. He still sits
in the House of Lords, but spends most of his time at Oxford. The
Castle is really the entire family's home. It's likely that Helen,
Alice, Jennifer and James, his younger siblings will be here with
their families. I'm not sure, but I think there are about seven or
eight kids, too. I've never really kept up with who's married to
who. You'll like it, Scully. It's a big family Christmas
gathering, very traditional. I had a lot of fun here-."

Sully caught a slight wistfulness in Mulder's voice as he looked
around the elegant sitting room.

"Thank you Sally," she heard Mulder say in polite dismissal, oddly
comfortable with the presence of servants "We'll be fine now." The
girl bobbed a small curtesy and left, closing the door behind her.

"Well Scully, what do you think?" Mulder asked as he walked into
another room. Scully correctly presumed it was one of two bedrooms
"Better than our usual not so salubrious motels, huh?"

Scully blinked in surprise as she entered the door next to
Mulder's. Another maid was standing on the far side of an ornately
canopied bed, tucking Scully's underwear into a bedside dresser
drawer. How had her bags gotten from the helicopter to the room so
fast? No one had passed them in the hallway.

"Hello," Scully said, uncomfortable with a stranger handling her
things.

The maid turned and smiled, "Good afternoon Miss Scully. I've sent
some of your clothes to be ironed. I'll hang them when they
return, shouldn't be more than half and hour." The maid replied in
a friendly, matter of fact voice, "I understand you will be going
up to the loch, so I took the liberty of laying out some clothes."

Scully didn't know quite what to say so as she spotted her ski
pants and thick pullover on the bed. On the far side of the bed a
large, gray cat lay asleep. Returning to the sitting room she
joined Mulder by the fire.

"Mulder, it's magnificent!" She said as she rubbed her hands
together near the flames. They stood together in companionable
silence until the maids left, then went to their respective rooms
to change. They maintained a running conversation about the
reports and inconsistencies in the dating. An autopsy had not yet
been done, the bodies were still on ice in the local morgue.

"Why don't you go to the morgue now and see what you can find and
I'll go to the Loch?" Mulder said, coming into her room. He leaned
against the bed canopy as he spoke.

Scully sat on the ornate chest at the end of the bed. She was
bending over, lacing a hiking shoe when it suddenly occurred her
that neither of them had closed their bedroom doors. And Mulder
had just breezed in without checking if she were decent. Were they
that familiar with one another? She shook it off, yes, they were.
That was not a bad thing. Scully glanced up to see Mulder staring
at the wall, a slight frown as he concentrated on some stray
thought.

"Fine," she replied, "I could live without an autopsy on Christmas
Day." Scully decided to leave her ski pants and sweater on. Her
suits were missing, presumably being pressed and the morgue would
be cold. "I'll get a couple of things...." She had collected her
lab coat but it took her a few moments to locate the unopened box
of latex gloves. She probably wouldn't need them, but it also
concerned her that her spare gun was missing. Finally she located
everything amongst her underwear, in the top drawer of the bedside
table.

"I wonder what the maid was thinking?" Scully mumbled, aware that
guns, particularly small hand guns were uncommon in this country.
They were not normally carried even by police.

"Where else would you keep the rubbers and a pistol?" Mulder's
eyes twinkled merrily "Don't worry about it, Scully, the servants
are the soul's of discretion, I know from experience."

Scully's eyebrows lifted questioningly but he just chuckled and
motioned for them to go.

CHAPTER 8
LOCH MEADE, NORTHERN ENGLAND
CHRISTMAS EVE

"It's fortunate that all the bodies have been located on his
Lordship's land. The Gamekeeper is privy to what's been happening
but it's hard to keep walkers away. There's not much left to see,
the paleontologists team are finishing up. Christmas Eve and all."
Sergeant Bronin from the local constabulary met Mulder as the
helicopter landed. Bronin was annoyed at being called out, yet
again. Scotland Yard informed him of the FBI's involvement only an
hour before. What would a bloody yank know? The sergeant was
frankly sick to death of all the hoo ha in what was once a very
quiet area to be stationed. No drug problems, the odd slavering
rapist or murderer holed up in the woods, petty theft and so on,
but this Nessy business had seen his small station turned into a
bloody lunatic asylum.

The Sergeant and a Scotland Yard Inspector, Walters, walked with
Mulder to the area where the original bodies and dinosaur bones
had been recovered. Mulder remembered the Loch as a place he and
Dale and had fished. Few people thought of England as still having
truly wild and desolate locations. Scotland perhaps, but not
England. Despite the warnings, especially in winter, foolish, ill-
prepared walkers frequently became lost in the craggy hills and
forest surrounding the series of lochs and waterways dividing
England from Scotland. Civilisation might not be too far away in
any one direction, but that had not prevented people from dying,
Bronin explained to Mulder.

Nodding agreement Mulder replied "I've fished here, I know the
area a little."

Inspector Walters asked "Up here with his Lordship then?" And
Bronin's expression collapsed into resignation when Walters
whispered an aside to him, "Roomed together at Oxford."


Mulder nodded mutely then crouched on the ground at the edge of
the meadow and fingered the melting snow. "Tell me, Inspector, has
anyone checked the sites and surrounding areas for abnormal
radiation levels? Have any deep indentations or impressions or odd
circular marks been found near the locations of the bodies?"
Mulder glanced across the field to where a handful of people
worked. Mulder could see tables and instruments set up inside a
large, open tent.

The Inspector smiled "You don't take the deceased's previous
reports of being run off in flying saucers seriously do you?

Mulder replied "I take seriously a commonality in each of these
events. Every victim was a repetitive abductee. Admittedly the
reports I have are summations and thus incomplete, but unless I am
mistaken, none of the victims became lost while walking in this
area. Which begs the question, how did they get here?"

Sergeant Bronin eyebrows raised almost imperceptibly "I understood
you were here only to investigate the deaths of two U.S.
citizens."

Mulder mistook the sergeants' slightly aggravated tone to be
territorialism. "Were not these U.S. citizens found with the
remains of the others? As the circumstances are almost identical,
except for the absence of plesiosaur bones at all but this first
location, I think it reasonable to extrapolate that the incidents
are related." Mulder turned to Inspector Walters "I would like
copies of all the original data in addition to unabridged reports,
including paleontological findings and lab analysis as soon as
possible."

"I've been instructed to give you access to everything. It's all
at the station, on hard copy and discs, you can collect them once
we've finished here."

"Thank you. Now, what about radiation?"

"Not that I'm aware. We can ask Dr. Simmons who's heading up the
paleontological team. He's right over there."

Mulder stood and followed the Inspector and Sergeant to the dig.

Half a dozen patches of bare earth were cordoned off and one
larger rectangular patch with the remains of strings and small
pegs in the ground. Bundles of small, colored flags were stuck
here and there, large green bags zipped and labeled to one side. A
flash from a camera caught the corner of his eye.

It was a familiar sight to Mulder, the site of a crime scene where
every scrap of evidence was collected for forensic analysis. The
difference however was in the team. Most of them were young, some
bearded and a little scraggly looking. All looked serious and
enthusiastic.

Mulder tuned into scraps of conversation and learned that they
were anxious to finish up before the next snowfall. No mention of
Christmas, or an urgency to be somewhere else, just the need to
collect every scrap of evidence before nature set in.

After introductions, Dr. Simmons, the paleontologist said
"Normally a dig like this would take months, even years to
complete, but the bones were completely exposed. The Gamekeeper
discovered them and he touched nothing until the police came.
We've already gone three feet below the baseline, just in case
something interesting popped up."

"And has it?"

"Surprisingly, no. It's as if they where dropped onto the earth
from a height of about a 50ft. The overgrowth would indicate they
had only been there for a couple of weeks, at most. It's almost as
if someone were emptying their garbage.

Mulder made no comment, recalling the initial photographs of the
scene.

Expecting no for an answer, Mulder asked, "Have you pieced
together the plesiosaurs yet?"

"Pretty well," Simmons nodded enthusiastically "Except for the
fact that our team has agreed not to publish until something
conclusive regarding age is found, it is the most exciting find in
my life! I mean, to get complete skeletons dropped in situ, with
only a handful of broken bones, is an extraordinary find. It was
ridiculously easy reconstructing them in stasis. We're already
well on the way to rebuilding one in 3D."

"Did you or any members of your team run background radiation
checks in the area?" Mulder said.

"Eh...no. Why?"

"The discrepancy in dating."

"Mr. Mulder, the way these dinosaurs were dropped, the overgrowth
and lack of..well..anything in the surrounding soil and substrate
is indicative that ambiguous dating exists at every level. One
thing I can say with certainly, these animals did not die here 150
years ago or 150 million years ago, they were dropped within the
last few months. And when they fell, by the type and degree of
damage to the skeletal structure at the bottom, they were only
recently dead and fully fleshed out. I believe you will find the
same conclusion with the human remains."

Mulder looked back at the site, watching the intensity of the
crew. Not realising that he was even more driven than the men and
women he viewed, he fondly recalled being young and dedicated,
working through weekends and Christmas...Mulder caught Bronin's
face. The Sergeant looked bored and surly.

"Professor, can you do something for me?" The man looked on in
interest and Mulder continued "Can you have some of your students
check this entire area for radiation levels? Anything significant,
tell them to leave it alone, just mark it until we can get a
proper team in."

"What are you looking for, exactly?"

Mulder chewed at his bottom lip as he looked across the clearing
then back over the nearby loch, "I'm not sure yet."


Mulder, accompanied by the Inspector and Sergeant instructed the
pilot to land at every site. Mulder exited the machine and walked
around for twenty minutes or so, absently dropping a few sunflower
husks along the way. All the sites, including the most recent,
were devoid of activity. The only evidence that something untoward
had happened were the presence of four wheel drive tracks and
excavation marks.

Having deduced the real reason for the man's surliness, Mulder
called to Bronin at the final site.

"Yes Sir," the man replied resignedly.

"Sergeant, although I'm certain you'd like to see this wrapped up
as soon as possible, there's not a great deal more I can do until
I've examined the reports." Mulder also wanted to do some
research, but he figured he could get most of it from the
internet. "You should be home in time for Christmas dinner." The
sergeants' face visibly brightened.

Mulder turned to the Inspector "Are you going back to London
tonight?"

Walters nodded "There's really nothing more for us here. I'll have
the latest remains returned to London as well, if your associate
is finished."

Mulder glanced at his watch, it had been almost five hours, enough
time for Scully to have done at least one autopsy, but not likely
both.

"I don't think she'll have completed both, probably later
tonight."

"Oh, you must not have been told, our forensic chappie decided to
do them on..."

A cell phone cheep interrupted him.

"Mulder."

"Hi, it's me." Scully sounded preoccupied.

"What have you found."

"Well, not a lot at this stage. An autopsy was performed on the
victims..."

"I thought they hadn't been touched yet?" Mulder glanced at
Walters who motioned that was what he was about to explain.

"They weren't going to, but the bodies began experiencing an
accelerated rate of decay and Scotland Yard's Chief pathologist
made the decision to autopsy while he still had something to work
with. I'm glad he did, Mulder...these bodies, they were recovered
on Monday but they've decayed like....like four or five weeks in
hot, humid, environment."

Mulder winced as his olfactory nerves reminded him what that
smelled like.

"I can almost see them degenerating before my eyes."

"Any obvious causes? We've seen accelerated decay before."

"There were no obvious chemicals or residues present, no
micchorizoids or fungal spores that I can locate, no signs of an
accelerant, but clearly that's what's at work here. I'm hoping for
something in the toxicological reports, a specific enzyme or
catalyst, or possibly both at work."

"No results yet?"

"It seems things have slowed down for Christmas, but Scotland Yard
has promised to email me what results they've completed. Dale had
already dropped a copy to the lab in D.C.. They've sent it to
Quantico and I should have some results by Monday. "

"Scully, can you get a bone sample and have it sent to the lab for
C14 testing, and can you also run a cross spectrum radiation
check?"

"What are you looking for?"

"I'm not sure yet, but I have an idea."

"Care to share?"

"I'll tell you when I see the radiation results, but I'm pretty
sure there's at least one red herring amongst this."

"Only one?"

Mulder smiled "I'll see you soon."

"Wait, Mulder? Dale's here at the hospital with me. He want's a
word with you."

Mulder felt an odd emotion pass through him, but he could not
analyze it.

"Fox?"

"Why didn't you pick summer to drag me out here? At least I could
have gotten in some fishing."

"Ah, my dear chap, you'll have to come back next season, I've
finally built that cabin at the end of the Loch! Now, before we go
wandering off the subject, I just wanted to let you know the
helicopter will be putting down in the village, not the castle."

Mulder went to interrupt, he had a lot of research to do but Dale
continued, "And you will be aboard! Without the helicopter you'd
be traipsing around there all week, so you are ahead of the game
and can therefore take a few hours off. I'm taking you and your
delightful partner for a drink at each of the local pubs before we
go home. A bit of a tradition, you remember.

Mulder laughed "Oh yeah, I remember...the first half!"

"Righto, but this time we shan't be that long, just a half pint
here and there, then home for supper."

Mulder's lips twitched, wondering how Scully would take this. His
guilt at dragging her away for Christmas had soon been replaced
with memories of Christmas at the Castle. Mulder was more than
pleased to see Dale, but it pleased him further that Scully would
celebrate Christmas in true, old English style. She hadn't said
anything, she never did, of course, but Mulder knew Scully needed
the comforting normalcy of a loving family at Christmas. Yet these
last few years, with the death of her father and sister, her
cancer and the discovery and death of her daughter, Christmas's
had provided anything but comfort.

"Okay, but half pints only...and no chasers!"

CHAPTER 9
MEADE VILLAGE NORTHERN ENGLAND
CHRISTMAS EVE

Mulder was relieved to note Scully had found time to change. The
smell of the morgue, not just death, but formaldehyde and a dozen
nameless chemicals penetrated his clothes whenever he went near
one. His dry cleaner had become accustomed to it now, but for
quite a while the young woman had wrinkled her nose in distaste
every time Mulder delivered his laundry. He knew when Scully had
just come from a morgue when she entered the basement. No matter
what perfume she used, it was impossible to hide. And if the
bodies were in the advanced stages of putrefaction...he was just
pleased that she had changed.

After stopping at the constabulary for copies of the reports,
Mulder had arrived at the first pub to find Scully declared Lord
Forrester's Lady of the Castle for the evening. The attention of
the villagers was so pointedly charming to the Lord's fiery haired
companion, Scully found herself blushing and turned to Mulder with
a slightly pleading look. But Mulder only grinned and shook his
head. Tonight, Lord Forrester, his sisters and their husbands
toured the village pubs, buying the patrons a round of Christmas
drinks in a tradition long since set by his father. In turn, the
younger villagers, with old-fashioned lanterns and shepherd crooks
in hand walked with them from pub to pub through a thin layer of
snow. They sang carols in hauntingly sweet voices, bringing fond
memories to Mulder and a genuine smile to his partner's face.

"Don't I always take you to interesting places for Christmas,
Scully?"

Scully's eyes rolled, but her smile stayed warm as Dale once again
took her attention.

Mulder watched them awhile, knowing that Dale in full swing could
easily knock Scully off her professional feet. It would do her the
world of good, he thought.

Mulder managed to escape with Helen, Dale's sister, between pub
calls. When they caught up with the party at the final stop,
Mulder noted that Dale had his arm around Scully's shoulders and
she did not seem to be objecting in the least. Mulder had figured
on it being a long night, but Dale had completed the rounds
surprisingly fast.

"We dine at nine old chap and the children must be in bed soon
after."

They soon returned to the castle in a fleet of BMW's and Rolls
Royce's.

While they changed for super, Mulder and Scully finally had a
brief chance to catch up on their afternoon's respective findings.
"You go on down," Mulder told her as she emerged from her room in
dinner clothes, "I'll check the email."

As Mulder entered the family room, he spotted her standing alone
under a huge Christmas tree. For once in the evening Dale was not
by her side.

"Merry Christmas Lady Scully!" Mulder whispered in her ear.

"You're forgiven." Scully only half turned to face him, a rare
truly carefree smile on her face. Mulder felt his heart move. Her
face in repose, free of worry and pain, free of the FBI uniform
she wore there most of the time, was so very young and beautiful.
He resisted the temptation of putting his hand to her cheek and
replied with a grin to hide his emotions "For what?"

"Everything."

"They're quite lovely, aren't they?" Scully turned to see
Jennifer, Dale's youngest sister. To Scully's bemusement, she
discovered Dale was one of triplets. The oldest, Malcolm, had died
unmarried and without issue in the yachting disaster that killed
their father. His older sister, by two minutes, was Helen. The
younger twins were his brother James and sister Jennifer. All of
his living siblings were married and all but Jennifer boasted
assorted children. Jenny herself was just showing the early stages
of pregnancy.

"Some of them are over one hundred years old." She added referring
to the exquisite Christmas tree decorations.

"How do you manage to keep them unbroken with all the children?"
Scully asked politely, watching two boys, James and Scott, come
charging past.

"Boys, boys!" cried a middle aged nanny in hot pursuit.

The adults laughed and followed the children into a large, elegant
but casual Christmas supper.

It was close to 10.30pm when the exhausted children were shuffled
off to bed. Mulder also excused himself, anxious to begin on the
more detailed reports. He needed little sleep, a few hours before
dawn would suffice.

Scully went to excuse herself as well, but Mulder surprised her
"Why don't you relax a little, it's Christmas Eve? I'll let you
know if Scotland Yard has emailed anything."

Scully looked at him oddly. Although he didn't need company while
he poured over reports, it was uncharacteristic of him to even
hint at one of them 'enjoying themselves' on assignment.

"No, that's okay Mulder, there are some things I want go over."

"Ah, but you must stay, just for a nightcap," Dale quipped.

Before Scully could reply Dale had taken her arm in his and joined
his sisters and their husbands in the library. Scully turned, but
Mulder was already leaving. "Anything, anything at all from
Scotland Yard..." she called to him. He nodded and waved absently
without replying.

The look of sincerity in Dale's eyes seemed real, but Scully could
tell she was being charmed by an expert. And yet, it didn't seem
to matter.

The remainder of the family had said their good nights soon after
and Scully found herself alone with Forrester on a plush couch in
front of the fire. She was sure this was about her fifth glass of
wine, on top of the drinks at each pub. The soft glow of the
Christmas tree and the fire were the only source of light in the
room.

Forrester had been at her side most of the afternoon and well into
the evening. Scully wondered how she could ever have thought this
man to be anything like her partner. Although they both shared a
profound intelligence and quirky sense of humor, Dale seemed to be
loved by everyone. He went out of his way to be gracious, in sharp
contrast to Mulder who, if it served his greater purpose,
carelessly ticked off his peers and superiors the moment he walked
into a room. The villagers had been wonderful in the pubs,
treating her like an old friend when Dale introduced her as his
special Christmas guest. The castle and the warmth of the family
gathering, the carolers and endless drinks swirled through her
mind, seducing Scully as surely as this man. This was nothing like
the wild and sensuous feelings of rebellion evoked in her in
Philadelphia and the ill fated Ed Jerse. This was soft and warm
and glowing, comfortable.

His face was so close to hers, his hands just touching her hip. It
seemed the most natural thing in the world for him to close that
small distance and kiss her lightly on the lips.

Warm, male...Scully felt herself savoring the light kiss, the
texture of his beard. How long had it been since a man kissed her?

Philadelphia.

But somehow that did not count, for it had been a moment of erotic
abandon fueled at least in part by ergot.

This was different, it was cozy and comfortable.

He pulled slowly away. The kiss had been light, sensuous, but
totally uninvasive...too short. She could not have taken offense,
he had been so gentle.

"You are very beautiful Agent Scully. I'm sorry if I spoiled your
Christmas, but I confess to being selfishly pleased you could
grace this castle."

Scully hardly heard his words, her lips felt too sensitised by the
feathery kiss.

Neither were aware that Mulder had returned. The soft carpeting
had hidden his footfalls. He had not see them until it was almost
too late, but Mulder instinctively caught his breath and pulled
back into the shadows. He found himself rooted, his body frozen
like a deer in the lights of a car.

Every instinct in him warred a bloody battle. Catching Dale in
that position with a woman had been such a common event in
Mulder's life, he would normally grin and wish him the best. But
it was Scully in his arms.

Scully, not some student.

But isn't that what he knew would happen? Hadn't he deliberately
retired early, leaving the playing field for Dale to make his
move? Hadn't they each done that for the other on a dozen
occasions?

Scully...

Dale had taken him aside in the Men's room at one of the pubs and
asked Mulder about his relationship with his partner.

"Just that, she's my partner."

"I've seen the way you two gaze at each other across the room."

Mulder replied, not really exasperated because it was a common
mistake "I do not gaze at Scully. Yes, I watch her and she watches
me, it's a survival habit."

"Survival? My dear fellow you are in a rural English pub
surrounded by good friends and Christmas cheer, what could
possibly go wrong?"

"You'd be surprised," he replied dryly "We've lived this long only
by watching our own, and each other's backs. Keeping tabs on your
partner's location and reading their state of mind and
observations is a tactical habit."

Dale looked at him unconvinced. "You aren't working tonight. C'mon
Fox, it's me you're talking to. You have to be honest about this
or I shall have sleepless nights wondering what I may or may not
do."

Mulder knew that he only had to raise an eyebrow, or shift his
feet, just the vaguest indication and Dale would say and do no
more. But he couldn't do it. He liked them both too much. He loved
them both too much. He...his mind shut out the image it was
beginning to form. Bad news being a psychologist. He had just
analysed and concluded what his own mixed feelings were and it
left only one answer.

That, he could not have.

"Dale, we've been partnered almost seven years, that's longer than
a lot of marriages. She's as close to me, closer to me than anyone
should ever have to be. She's cleaned me up, saved my butt, not
just my job, but my life, more times than I can remember. And
she'd follow, she has followed me to hell, then stood over me and
thumbed her nose at the devil. I know, because I've done the same
for her and would again without a second's hesitation. I cannot
begin to explain what she means to me, what our partnership means.
But for all that, because all that, we have never been and never
could be lovers."

Dale knew there was something wrong there. Fox was saying the
truth, but there was something missing.

"Dale, Scully has..." Mulder hesitated, trying to form the words
properly "There's not a lot of time in our lives for
outside...distractions. Scully needs...she deserves more. I can't
give it to her, I only ever give her grief, but you've already
given her something special."

Forrester blinked in surprise as Mulder continued "I'd forgotten
how fairy-tale Christmas at your place is. She'd be the last to
admit it, even to herself, but you picked up on it last night.
Scully's a sucker for...a castle at Christmas, carol singers and
English plum pudding."

"Ah but don't forget autopsying grisly bodies," Forrester frowned,
remembering the afternoon with extreme distaste.

"Scully just loves the ol' dicin' and slicin'. She loves a mystery
under her Christmas tree. What can I say? She chose to be G woman
instead of a family M.D. for good reasons."

Dale had frowned, still unconvinced, but Mulder leaned towards him
as someone else entered the washroom, "I'm outside the picture you
have in mind....just be warned though, play it badly and she's got
an incredible right hook."

Dale laughed and they had moved on to the next pub.



Now Mulder stood frozen, watching the slow seduction unfold. A
part of him wanted to interrupt now, before it was too late while
another part, his logical self encouraged them to continue. He'd
willed Dale to understand. Mulder could not be that way in
Scully's life. He would not degrade their relationship with a mere
fleeting sexual encounter. And he refused to throw yet more of his
angst ridden emotional baggage onto her shoulders by allowing his
love for her to overflow into her carefully hidden sensuality. He
had slipped occasionally, confessing feelings, even love for her.
But Scully had reigned it back or laughed it off. His rock, his
anchor, protecting him from himself even where it involved loving
her. His damned psychologist's mind forced him to admit that if he
could not make love to her, he nevertheless wanted her to
experience that pleasure. She deserved, no, she needed it. Who
better than Dale?

As Forrester bent to kiss her more deeply, Scully's soft moan
aroused Mulder. Christ, Mulder, you really are one sorry son of a
bitch. Being a voyeur was one thing if it was tapes and magazines,
but something else entirely when it involved real life Scully.
There be Dragons.

He tried to back away, but the images came unbidden to his mind.
The night he and Dale had unwittingly become involved in a menage
a trois. Mulder swallowed heavily as the images formed. It had not
been a sleazy, ribald encounter, but an incredible night of erotic
sensuality. He felt, and knew Dale felt, absolutely no attraction
to other men. But they had been comfortable, even aroused by each
other's presence. There had been no intentional sexual contact
between the two men, though physical contact was unavoidable. They
had not flinched from that for they had not simply taken turns, it
was nothing as base as that. They had jointly made love to a
stunning Australian student who knew exactly how to pleasure two
completely straight men simultaneously. It had been an accident, a
one off, never to be repeated, never to be sought again, but it
had brought them closer and developed in them an understanding of
how a man could feel such love for another man while remaining a
card carrying heterosexual. The ultimate in male bonding, Dale had
described it when they had sat grinning over a cup of coffee the
following morning.

Mulder knew how sensual Dale could be. He knew how gentle and
erotic he would be. And he wanted that for Scully. He would not
lay awake thinking about what they might be doing. He would lay
awake rejoicing in the knowledge of what they were doing, of how
good it would be for her. He would take emotional pleasure in
that, sublimating his emotional pain. But he refused to be
physically aroused, that was crass beyond words. He could not do
that to Scully.

A tear rolled unbidden down his cheek for what he could never
know, but he willed her to be happy. Mulder took control of
himself now. He had absolutely no fear that she would leave him
for Dale, that was never an issue. But it was like Christmas in
this castle. He could gift this to her simply by not interfering.

Mulder backed further into the shadows, not risking the stairs
until Scully and Dale had made their inevitable exit. Her soft
moan again...but then it stopped. He heard them whispering. Mulder
could not make out the words, didn't want to, but he knew he would
not have long to wait. He just hoped Scully wouldn't indulge in a
fit of guilt for falling into Dale's bed five minutes after they'd
met. She'd taken it out on him with a month of stony silences
after Ed Jerse. This time Mulder would suppress his confusion, he
would feel no resentment. He would be her friend, as always, and
as a friend, he would encourage this and take pleasure in her
joys.

Scully had reveled in the soft warmth of Dale's kiss. God it had
been so long...and remember what happened last time? No, don't
remember that, just feel this, experience this here and now. His
kiss was seductive in that she knew she could break it at any time
without embarrassment. He encircled her with his arms, firmly but
in a way that allowed her to escape, if that's what she wanted. He
held her like Mulder held her, easily, comfortably. Mulder had
almost kissed her like this once, it seemed so very long
ago...Mulder...

Scully pulled back and he relaxed away from her, giving her room
to move. Scully was grateful. "I....I'm sorry Dale but..."

"Sh...my beautiful lady. I believe I have received far more than I
deserve. Please don't feel uncomfortable."

Scully smiled, this boy could charm the spots off a leopard. But
the warmth didn't leave her, nor did the smile. "I really have to
get some work done tonight..."

"And so you shall, of course. Let me walk you around the back way,
I promise I shall be a gentleman but I would very much like you to
see the battlements at night, especially this night, Christmas Eve
and I shall tell you a legend from long ago..."

Mulder heard the last few words. Slightly stunned at the
interchange, the reprieve, he moved quickly to the hall closet and
felt for the previously forgotten computer discs in his coat
pocket, then took the stairs two at a time, anxious to be back in
their rooms before Scully arrived.

Mulder did not look up from the computer as Scully opened the door
a few minutes later. Her hair was somewhat disheveled and her face
flushed. She just wanted to get to the bathroom before Mulder
noticed.

"Hey Scully, you should take a look at this..." Mulder glanced at
her through his reading glasses and she saw him do a double take.
She managed to escape into the bedroom before he'd taken his
glasses off.

Mulder knew he had to play the game just right. She had to know
she looked flustered and that he would notice.

"Just a sec Mulder, I need to freshen up."

"One too many eggnogs, eh?" he called after her.

Scully pulled her sweater over head and deposited it on the bed as
she made her way to the shared bathroom. God why did she have to
have such fair skin? How long would it take for that flush to
disappear? It had been cold enough outside but the flush still
remained. She splashed icy water on to her face until it took her
breath away, then ran a comb through her hair and capped it with
hairspray. How long could she stall?

What did it matter? What was it to Mulder, anyway? So what if he
made some wisecrack remark about drinking too much. Scully sternly
gathered her professional walls around her and returned to the
sitting room, idly noting that the beautiful gray Burmese cat was
still curled up on her bed.

Mulder had his feet on the computer table, wiping his reading
glasses and chewing a pen. She'd never seen him do that before.
Where were his sunflower seeds? Wasn't pen chewing a nervous
habit? Don't tell me Mulder was developing nerves all of a sudden.

"Ever heard of Lochabee?" He asked around the pen without looking
at her.

"Isn't that the nuclear power plant that's been having problems
with waste disposal?" Scully came around behind her partner,
wanting to keep out of his direct line of sight until her cheeks
paled. She peered over his shoulder at the computer screen.

"That's the one. I've got a theory, you wanna hear it?"

"Don't tell me. This is the one where aliens have been abducting
Loch Ness monsters and innocent people, experimenting on them and
when the tests go wrong, dumping them around here. But something
in the environment, radioactive contamination from Lochabee,
causes them to degrade rapidly and give false readings on the
carbon dating."

Mulder's jaw dropped and the pen fell out of his mouth. He swung
his feet onto the floor, swiveled his chair around and looked at
his partner in feigned amazement.

"Scully, marry me."

To her absolute horror the blush come storming back into her
cheeks.

"Mulder, gimme a break, it's Christmas and I've had a really
pleasant evening amidst very normal people who neither believe in
Loch Ness monsters, nor aliens. Can we just drop the fantastic for
once and concentrate on the facts?"

Mulder sighed, choosing to ignore her blush "Okay, but that's my
last proposal, you'll never get another chance. All right lets
look at the facts, exactly what do we know?"

Scully was surprised but grateful that he'd backed off so easily.

They spent the next three hours sorting through facts and figures,
going over the carbon 14 and comparative DNA tests. They had come
no closer to unraveling the mystery, but they had caught up on a
great deal of background information. A large clock struck two
thirty and Scully yawned

"Mulder, I'm going to bed. I'm starting to lose my train of
thought." Scully got up and patted his arm as she walked by.

"Yeah, you better go before Santa arrives, you know he won't leave
any presents in your stocking unless you're asleep."

Scully smiled "I didn't hang a stocking."

"Still, you wouldn't want to risk ticking off Santa."

Scully just motioned a goodnight. She was already in bed before
she realised she's forgotten to close her door again.

CHAPTER 10
LOCHMEADE VILLAGE NORTHERN ENGLAND
0330 CHRISTMAS DAY

Something was standing over her, watching her. Scully' heart
pounded and adrenaline pumped madly through her veins. Had she
remembered to leave her gun on the bedside table? Her head felt
muzzy from the alcohol, but she mentally located it then lunged
behind her with her right hand, grabbing the butt and swinging it
around in a fluid motion. A powerful hand seized her right wrist
and dived across her body, knocking the wind out of her. She
almost squeezed the trigger, not that it would have mattered, the
safety was on.

Scully punched out with her left fist in the direction of the
intruder's face and felt a satisfactory jolt of pain in her arm as
she made contact.

"Jesus, Scully, waddya doing?"

"Mulder?"

"Ahh!" she heard him wince and saw the shape of his hand come to
his face. He let go of her wrist and pulled himself off her.

"Mulder what the hell are you doing in here?" She whispered
loudly, angry as the adrenaline rush faded.

He didn't answer for a moment, shocked that she'd reacted so
swiftly, so violently. Shocked that she'd almost decked him in
complete silence, never once crying for help. Scully, his partner,
lady Rambo.

"I thought you were...I don't know what I thought." Her voice
sharpened but dropped to a dangerously low level "Mulder, what
were you doing standing over me?"

"I was about to wake you up."

"Why?"

"C'mon, you gotta see this."

Mulder found her hand and pulled her from the bed. She was still
angry but didn't resist. He guided her from the bedroom to the
sitting room. There was more light here from the fire, but it was
low, not enough to destroy her night vision. He opened the thick
curtain and the French doors. The sub zero chill of night air
clutched her body and she wanted to go back for her robe, but
Mulder kept her hand. "Look!"

Frowning in annoyance, but alert from the adrenaline rush, Scully
looked up in the direction he was pointing. The night sky was
absolutely black, blending into the horizon. The only lights came
from parts of the castle grounds, but they were beside and behind
them, for their suite was located on an outside wall. Snow was
falling lightly. It would be a white Christmas thought Scully.
Then she saw them and frowned.

"You see it?"

What she could see of Mulder's face looked like a twelve year old
kid under a Christmas tree. Scully looked back at the sky and
frowned in concentration. A red light followed by a stream of
white lights moved across the sky. The lights dipped and
disappeared. Scully rocked her head to one side, the freezing
night air forgotten.

"What was that?"

"Just wait, it'll come back again." As Mulder spoke she was aware
that he still held her hand. She was about to release his grasp
when the lights reappeared, veering up at an impossible angle then
bounding across the sky again in the reverse direction. It
happened twice more during the next few minutes. Suddenly they
disappeared vertically into the clouds, at a speed that almost
cracked their necks trying to follow.

Scully's mouth was still gaping when her partner whispered into
her ear "Do you believe in Santa Claus, Scully?"

Scully pulled away from him, suddenly aware of how close they
stood. Why did he have to stand so close all the time? It normally
never bothered her but for some reason it did just then. Yet as
she moved, she realised how much body heat he had been giving off.
Scully looked once more into the night sky then went back inside
to the relative warmth of the dying fire. She idly noticed the
Burmese cat was now curled up on one of the fireside chairs. He'd
probably been spooked when Mulder woke her.

"Mulder, what was that?"

"Best guess? Well, given all the evidence at hand, the season and
configuration of the planets, the one hundred percent cloud cover
and lack of aural output from the craft, the displacement pattern
of the lights and the differing spectral image of the lead light,
my best guess is Rudolph's leading the team again this year."

Scully couldn't help it, she burst out laughing. But turning from
the fire she gasped when she saw his grinning face in full.

"Oh Mulder, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hit you that hard!

Mulder put his hand up to his face and felt the frozen blood. Then
looked down at his sweater and saw the large blood stain. Scalp
wounds, he thought, jeez.

Scully went back into the bedroom and returned a few moments later
with her medical kit. She made him sit by the fire and turned on
an upright lamp.

"Y'know your problem Scully? You're having withdrawal symptoms,
it's been at least three months since you've had to patch me up."

"Well if you hadn't been leering at me in my sleep..."

"I'd never leer at you while you were asleep, Scully, no fun in
that...owe!"

"Don't move, it needs a butterfly."

"That's gonna look good in the morning."

"At least it won't bruise."

Despite his pain, her smell and warmth, the gentle touch of her
hands brought on a familiar stirring in his lower body. He crossed
his legs to hide the evidence, shifting his hips slightly as he
did.

"Mulder, stop fidgeting. So tell me, what do you really think it
was?"

Mulder winced as Scully cleaned the cut over his eyebrow. God he
was a sick bastard, he thought bemusedly, how could her inflicting
pain be such a turn on? "There is a RAAF squadron based near here
but I bet you ten to one they find another body dump."

Scully just looked at her partner and frowned.

CHAPTER 11
LOCMEADE CASTLE
NORTHERN ENGLAND
DAWN CHRISTMAS DAY 1999

They were woken by the sounds of screaming laughter. Although it
was still dark outside, Scully opened the French doors to see
James and Terrence running around the far corner, towing sleds
behind them.

Christmas morning with kids. Scully smiled fondly as the children
kept right on running around the far corner. She thought she could
hear a voice calling them.

Mulder entered the sitting room and her professional eye went
straight to the butterfly bandage.

"How's the head?"

He waved his hand in dismissal. The unchecked bleeding had
prevented it from bruising and the freezing midnight air had taken
care of the rest. He really didn't blame Scully for lashing out
like that. They'd both been through far too much, suffered too
many nightmares not to sleep with a gun in one hand and an eye
open at all times. But it disturbed him and brought memories back
of nights he'd lashed out at Diana, thinking she was one of
them....

They followed the trail of delighted laughter coming from the
living room. Scully noticed the cat follow them out of the room,
but it disappeared before descending the stairs. She grinned and
hugged herself as she took in the Christmas scene. It looked like
a magical page from a Dicken's novel. The tree was dimly lit and
candles flickered about the room. Wrapping paper lay everywhere
and three or four of the eight children were busy carpeting the
floor with yet more packaging. Squeals of laughter came from other
rooms and a maid move about with mugs of hot chocolate.

Dale looked up from the children and smiled broadly at Scully,
"Merry Christmas beautiful lady," he leaned across and kissed her
diplomatically on her cheek. "And Merry Christmas to..." he
frowned as he spied Mulder "Whatever happened to your eye?"

"Mm," Mulder touched his face and winced theatrically "Scully
attacked me in the middle of the night. She does that sort of
thing occasionally." He said it in such a deadpan face that Dale
looked twice, at both of them. Scully's face reflected
absolutely...nothing.

Dale frowned in confusion. A cryptic Mulder was one thing, but it
did not bear thinking about in the beautiful Dana. He turned away
and Scully shot Mulder a 'I will definitely get you for that
later' look.

He grinned knowingly "'S the truth."

"Thanks for the super present Mr. Mulder an Miss Scully! What
happened to you face Mr. Mulder?" James asked as he came scooting
into the room, pulling off his mittens.

Scully rolled here eyes and wondered how many times someone would
ask. She was so accustomed to seeing Mulder's face banged up, the
tiny white butterfly bandage on his eyebrow seemed relatively
inconsequential. "Don't ask impolite questions, James." His mother
commented, but there was a definite look of confused curiosity in
Helen's eyes.

English sensibilities soon took over and no one bothered with the
question again, but Scully caught Dale occasionally glancing at
her with an odd expression.

"What present?" Scully whispered to her partner.

"I escaped last night with Helen and bought the kids gifts from
us."

Scully was dumbfounded. Mulder was one of the most selfish and
arrogant, yet kind hearted and altruistic contradictions she had
ever known. She put her hand on his arm and went to speak, but
Forrester began clapping for attention.

"Now, everyone! " Dale called them all together in a loud voice.
The family ritual was about to begin.

Mulder sat down in one of the lounges and beckoned Scully to sit
with him. As the other chairs were either on the far side of the
tree, or strewn with discarded packaging and assorted toys or
family members, Scully sat beside her partner. Mulder relaxed into
the corner of the lounge, his arm across the back of the seat
Scully nestled against. He glanced at her and smiled fondly.
Scully was enjoying this, big time. He failed to notice Dale's
eyes on him as he watched his partner.

"Santa has been generous this year. For the benefit of Dana, I
shall explain our Christmas ritual. Every year the children are
each allowed to open two presents when they awake."

To Scully's investigative eye it looked like fifty had been
ransacked.

"After that, they must content themselves with playing quietly,"
this elicited a round of chuckles from the adults "Until the rest
of the family are awake. As that's about two minutes later," more
chuckles "I, as the head of the family, pass out the presents.
Most importantly," he smiled at Dana "Tradition requires that
everyone in the household receive a gift.

"Now, there is no rhyme or reason to this, so patience is
required."

Dale turned to pick out the nearest present and read the card.
There seemed to be hundreds of packages, large and small, around
the tree. The servants passed more hot chocolate, tea and warm
fruit buns to everyone. A small part of Scully felt guilty for
being there when she should be checking out an idea she had for
rapid putrefaction. Instead she basked in the closeness of the
loving family atmosphere.

"Ah ha! I don't know how the blighter managed to escape Santa's
bad books, but there's one here for Fox Mulder." Dale handed
Mulder the package. "Merry Christmas, old man!" he said with
twinkle in his eye. Mulder grinned lopsidedly and checked the tag.
Scully looked at him questioningly and Mulder motioned that the
gift was from Dale.

"This better not be my 'Abnormal Psychology' finally returned to
me." He muttered with a grin.

Scully watched curiously as Mulder opened the packaging. It was a
first edition hardback copy, in almost mint condition, of H.G.
Wells War of the Worlds. Mulder was flabbergasted. How had Dale
managed to secure such a find? He looked at his friend and smiled
his thanks. Scully saw something that moved her heart. These men
loved each other. She had never seen this side of Mulder before
and she wished that Dale lived a little closer. There were times
when Mulder needed the friendship of another man.

Before she could ponder that subject further, Dale said "And of
course Santa would never miss the beautiful Dana." He handed her a
large, beribboned box. Scully stood to collect it and saw that the
card was from the Forrester family. She flushed, unsure what to
say, "Please don't be embarrassed Dana, everyone must have a gift
from our tree, castle rules."

Mulder looked on, smiling indulgently as she opened the box.
Inside was a stunning woolen jumper. Large and fluffy, it would
reach down to her thighs, just the way she liked them. The pattern
looked familiar and Helen, Dale's twin sister, spoke over Dale's
ongoing Santa Claus act. "It's Forrester family tartan."

Scully looked confused then read the label. The sheep's wool
signature with a Forrester label had a small caption that
explained the wool had been grown on Forrester estates. Scully was
delighted with he gift and rubbed the soft wool against her cheek.

"Most people outside of Britain think that only the Scots and
Irish wear family tartan, but many English families do as well."
Helen explained with a smile.

It had been a simple gesture but she loved that he had chosen so
well. If this was what it felt like to be charmed, Scully could
learn to like it. Beside her, she could feel Mulder getting
restless. He was probably anxious to check his email, hoping the
Lone Gunmen had found something on Lochabee. He was chewing on his
bottom lip and his crossed leg twitched. He should have had a
morning run, she thought, but her idle thoughts were interrupted
when Dale called her name again.

"Ah, I see Santa has been generous to you this year. Could this be
small gift from your partner?" he asked as he read the card
"Methinks it is." And he reached across and handed Scully a tiny
box.

Scully looked up at Dale, then across at Mulder whose foot was
twitching just a bit more. He raised his eyebrows and Scully
didn't know what to think. This was very unMulderish. But she also
breathed a sigh of relief because she had hidden a present amongst
the others for Mulder. Now she didn't feel so bad.

Suddenly Dale cried "Oh, ho! A gift for moi! Thank you old chap!"
He inclined his head to Mulder. Everyone was preoccupied with
presents and Scully felt for a moment that there were only the
three of them in the room. Mulder watched his partner open hers
and the expression on her face clutched his heart. It seemed to be
one of infinite sadness and he could almost see tears in her eyes.
But as she looked up, he realised it was just a trick of the
light. The sun was up and the candles burned low, giving false
shadows. The servants moved almost invisibly about the room,
making some headway into discarded paper and ribbons,
extinguishing candles and collecting teacups and chocolate mugs.
Mulder heard and saw all of this with almost painful clarity,
wondering if he had done the wrong thing.

"Mulder, their beautiful, how did you know?"

"Lunching at Gabby's, Agent Dana Scully would stare through the
jeweler's window thinking very unscientific telekinetic thoughts.
How could I not know?"

The simple sapphires earrings in their elegant red gold stud
setting had moved her almost to tears. She smiled and said a soft,
thank you, then leaned across to kiss him on the cheek, but
somehow their movements became confused and she ended up kissing
the corner of his mouth. As her lips gently brushed his and she
felt the roughness of his unshaven face against the softness of
his lips, a warmth spread from her heart across her chest and out
to her fingertips. She swallowed hard then consciously looked
across at Dale, who had by now opened his gift.

"Mulder old chap, how on earth did you secure this? Theft, my boy,
is a major offense for an FBI agent."

Scully's eyebrows raised as she stared at the glass case. Inside
was a large chunk of moon rock. This was no legally obtainable
stone from the nearest NASA outlet, but a large unusually colored
distinctive piece. Mulder looked very catlike, so much so that
Scully peered closely to locate the feathers around his lips.

"I have friends in high places." He replied ambiguously.

"Look boys, " Dale shouted to the older children, most of who were
running races with radio controlled vehicles of gaudy shapes and
colors. "Fox and Dana have given me a moon rock!"

Scully was grateful that he had gifted it from both of them.
Mulder had obviously remembered the family ceremony and realised
Scully would have been embarrassed otherwise. She smiled her
gratitude to him.

Dale found himself surrounded in no time. The children decided
their Uncle's visitors to be a great talking point, especially
when discussing the chances of them having real live guns. They'd
stayed up late into the night fabricating stories about the two
FBI agents, how many people they had shot and what they were
really doing at the Castle, little realising their seemingly
outlandish tales paled to reality. This Christmas morning even the
children of the British aristocracy couldn't help from using the
word 'cool' a half dozen times as they touched the glass case
reverently.

"Can we touch it for real, Uncle Dale?" Scott, one of the younger
ones begged.

"Please Uncle Dale can we touch a piece of the moon?" cried
Maggie, Helen's daughter.

Dale laughingly obliged and flipped the catch on the lid of the
glass case. The children were told by their parents to sit
quietly, pass the rock around gently and to make sure it got back
to their uncle in one piece, or they would all miss Christmas
dinner!

Mulder watched the exchange good naturedly, stealing a glance at
Scully every now and then, gratified as she constantly rubbed her
fingers across the sapphire earrings. They matched her eyes and
hair perfectly and were small and simple enough to wear to work
without her feeling overdressed. But to Scully they were as
precious as the simple cross her mother had given her years
before. Oddly enough, she realised, it was the first time a man
had ever given her a gift of jewelry.

Unbeknownst to them both, Dale watched the exchange and a slight
look of regret, followed by a warm smile passed over his features.
The lovely Dana was not for him.

"And the Fox receives yet another gift. If you keep this up old
boy, I'll start to think you might actually be popular." He
indicated the gift was from Scully.

Mulder opened his small package and was delighted to find an
elegant, slim Rolex watch. He'd lost his previous one, after years
surviving one misadventure after another, in the pool. He hadn't
noticed the band had broken until he got out of the water. By that
time, a dozen other swimmers had been in and out, the watch along
with them. So much for honesty amongst FBI agents, he'd grumbled
and bought a replacement from a nickel and dime store. Scully knew
Mulder missed his Rolex. He leaned across to kiss Scully thank
you, fairly certain he could risk kissing her lips, just for a
second, when Hubert touched him on the shoulder.

"I'm sorry Sir, but Sergeant Bronin as at the door, asking for
you."

"Thanks Jeeves." Mulder absently slipped the watch onto his wrist,
all thoughts of Christmas instantly evaporating as he excused
himself and followed Hubert to the door. Scully also abandoned the
warmth of the family gathering and followed Mulder. She put his
gift in her pocket and wrapped the woolen jumper across her
shoulders. The strange, almost surrealistic Christmas spell was
broken and suddenly, the air felt a lot chillier.

The sergeant waited with his cap under his arm in the large foyer,
sipping from a large mug of steaming chocolate. He kept his
overcoat on, a light smattering of snow on his shoulders
indicative of the weather.

"Sergeant Bronin, my partner Dana Scully."

Bronin gave a slight half bow as if to tip his hat, in what Scully
could only think of as a singularly British gesture. "Begging your
pardon Ma'am. I'm sorry to get you out on Christmas morning, but
there's been another one."

CHAPTER 12
LOCHMEADE CASTLE NORTHERN ENGLAND
CHRISTMAS DAY 1999

Mulder turned to share a look with his partner. Why couldn't he be
wrong just once? At least at Christmas?

"Give us five minutes will you sergeant?"

The policeman nodded, gratefully sipping his chocolate. Dale
followed them and after speaking to Hubert turned to Mulder and
said "I'm getting the pilot to warm up the machine. I'll follow in
a little while, just get the rest of presents out of the way."

Before Mulder could reply Dale had turned back into the family
room. Minutes later Scully and Mulder returned from their rooms
clothed in dark ski pants. Scully smiled absently as James,
Terrence and young Scott raced their cars through the halls. Dale
came out to join them.

"There's no point ruining your Christmas over this." Mulder said.
"If it's the same as the last one there's really no point in you
coming."

Dale looked torn until Scully added "We'll probably be back by
lunch but if not, save me some of that plum pudding?"

Dale smiled and nodded.


"My God, there must be hundreds of them!" Bronin spoke aloud, but
headphones muffled everyone's ears. Scully frowned as the
helicopter descended. She'd be doing a great many autopsies that
afternoon.

Other helicopters arrived in short order. Within the hour a half
dozen machines and four wheel drive vehicles were scattered across
the clearing. Men in bright yellow jackets planted small flags as
they walked the field, hand held radios chattering back and forth.
It vaguely reminded her of a plane crash site, except there were
no smoking remains, no emergency crews, no ambulances, no smell of
charred flesh and rubber. All the bodies were in one piece,
although some had twisted limbs as if they had been dumped from
height. More like Jonestown sprinkled with snow, Scully thought.

"Hey, over here, quick!" someone shouted.

Those nearby made there way to the gesticulating man, Mulder
arriving just before Scully. Most of the other bodies were in
shadow, but the weak sun had penetrated the cloud cover and shone
limply over this area of the field.

"Oh my God! What's happening?" cried a middle aged woman, one of
the forensic team helicoptered up from London.

With sudden insight Mulder cried, "Back off, back off quickly, the
fumes may be toxic!"

The woman ignored him and reached to touch the corpse, but she
cried out and threw her arms to her face.

"Back off!" Mulder screamed at her, pushing at those around him to
get to her. Scully and another yellow jacket reached the now
screaming woman as she clutched at her face. Mulder looked
worriedly at his partner, not wanting her to get close. By then
everyone had backed away, torn between watching the pathologist
claw at her face and the gruesome sight of the body at their feet.

Startled cries filled the air as other bodies began to decay
before their eyes, a green, bubbling froth visible from the
exposed skin.

"Everyone, get to the edge of the field! Keep well away from any
of the bodies! Now one has started, it might set of a chain
reaction!" Mulder shouted as he helped Scully and yellow jacket
with the woman mewling in pain. Mulder picked the pathologist up
and threw her over his shoulder fireman style and almost ran to
the edge of the forest. He could never recall the fumes of dead
aliens being toxic before. Live ones yes, but once they were dead,
the green sludge seemed to breakdown the tissue without ill
effects to bystanders. But not this time....why? What was
different? He looked up to notice that most of the yellow jackets
were already at a safe distance.

Mulder lowered the woman to the ground, allowing Scully to
administer to her as best she could. He knew exactly what the
pathologist was going through. It might have been five years, but
he recalled the pain.

An hour later, it was all over.

Mulder found himself the center of angry and confused attention
"Well Agent Mulder, you obviously know what's going on here, so
don't be shy about it, what in bloody hell happened to those
bodies?" Bronin glared at him. Inspector Walters had just arrived
by helicopter. He had not seen the rapid decay of what he
understood were well over three hundred men and women. But he
could feel the shock that pervaded the atmosphere. The only
evidence remaining were ugly pockmarks in the snow.

"Y'know, I think Simmons was right," Mulder glanced at his partner
"Someone is dumping their garbage."

The pathologist was helicoptered to the nearest hospital, with
instructions from Scully for treating her chemical burns and
possible viral infection. Despite exclamations and warnings from
those around, Scully went back into the field, trying to find some
remnant of evidence. Mulder said nothing, he knew Scully was
longer in danger. He was also sure she would find nothing more
than scorched grass and fragments of material burned with a
corrosive substance that nobody had ever been able to
satisfactorily identify.

"Agent Mulder? An explanation is in order, don't you think?"
Walters asked as they made their way to the helicopter.

"I don't think you'd like any explanation I might give,
Inspector."

"Try me."

Mulder stopped and turned to face the Scotland Yard detective. He
glanced across at the field where yellow jackets tentatively began
to walk. His partner picked her way with less care. Knowing the
search was fruitless, Scully nonetheless demanded something
substantial to work with, unwilling to settle for empirical
evidence. Even when supported by the eyes of a dozen or more
strangers wandering in mute testament to what they had witnessed,
Scully refused what she had seen without something she could touch
with her hands. Sometimes her pedantic need for proof seemed far
more irrational to Mulder than his wildest theories.

"We really have no idea how many they experimented on. Logic tells
us it must have been thousands, for what is that small price when
all were destined to die anyway? I can give you no answers you
wish to hear, inspector, except that something is cleaning house
and this loch, for reasons I doubt we will ever comprehend, is the
refuse bin."

A War, Krycek had said, a war between the Gods, thundering across
the heavens, uncaring of mere mortals who may get in the way.

Scully joined the two men by the helicopter and Mulder continued,
reasoning more to her than the Inspector "I'm not sure why they're
bothering, except perhaps it's easier to spring clean before you
move in, rather than after."

"Mulder they are dead, all dead, you saw for yourself what
happened at El Rico."

"I saw what they wanted us to see." He said more forcefully "You
saw what you wanted to see, one small part of a worldwide cartel
destroyed. You accept that as closure to what happened to you but
I do not!"

"Mulder," Scully looked into his eyes, worried at his growing
anger, the warmth of the morning's Christmas fantasy long since
lost into their unique reality of pain and bitterness "I
understand you cannot accept it as finished until we find
Samantha."

The soft tone of her voice, the mention of his sister, that she
had used the term 'we' broke into his pain.

Walters looked at the two Americans, wondering at their
relationship, at what they were talking about. He recognised a man
driven by personal demons, but that did not explain what was going
on. He turned to Scully "Can you explain what happened here?"

"I can tell you what happened, but I cannot give you an
explanation. Inspector, we've seen this sort of toxic, corrosive
agent at work before. It completely degrades organic material
within minutes. I can only guess that it was precipitated in this
instance by an increase in temperature as the sun came into
contact with the first body. We have witnessed a delay to the
onset of the decomposition due to extreme cold. It normally...."
she stopped herself wondering when the term 'normal' had entered
her mental classification system "Decomposition of this nature
generally occurs immediately after death."

"So is that what happened to the other bodies?"

"No, no their skeletal structure remained. Nothing..." and she
gestured across the clearing "Remains here."

"So you're saying it's an unrelated event."

"No Inspector," Mulder said as he bent to enter the helicopter "It
just means Scully won't have to perform any autopsies today."

Walters was becoming increasingly angry at Mulder's crypticism.
"You still have not told me who did this. Do you have a suspect?"

"It's not a who, Inspector, they are a what." Mulder sighed, his
voice sounding as tired as his helpless soul, thought Scully " And
they know no bounds on this planet and by all account on any other
planet. They will never be brought to justice, however there is a
secondary element to this that requires exploration. Hop in
Scully, we've got a boat to catch."

Inspector Walters looked disgusted. 'Knows no bounds on this or
any other planet.' The man was a bloody crackpot. But this thought
could not suppress a frisson of fear arcing up his spine as he
looked at the green sludge in the shapes of men burned into the
snow around him.

"Bloody yanks." Bronin muttered under his breath.

"Not exactly forthcoming, was he?" a yellow jacketed man replied
sympathetically to the sergeant.

"He knows somethin's going on, but I'm buggered if I can see how a
radiation check will help any.

"What do you mean, radiation? Yellow jacket asked, trying to keep
his voice indifferent.

"Blowed if I know, he's asked that bone doctor to check all the
areas for radiation. He seems to think it has something to do with
it. Can't see it myself, just look at what happened today? It's
not bloody radiation that did that." And he gestured across the
clearing.

"So, you going to do as the yank wants?"

"I don't have that much bloody choice, but I've told Simmons to
hang off a bit. There's a low pressure system coming across, we'll
be in for some bad weather tonight. By the time that passes and
New Year has come and gone, Scotland Yard may have come up with
something and we can turf these buggers back across the Atlantic."

The yellow jacketed man nodded in mute agreement and left.

CHAPTER 13
LOCHMEADE CASTLE
CHRISTMAS DAY

"Please explain to me why we are going boating?" Scully asked her
partner as they walked across the helipad at Lochmeade Castle.
Mulder had already made prior arrangements with Dale to borrow his
launch for some close exploring of the myriad crenulations of the
loch. But first Mulder wanted to collect the maps and data he'd
downloaded the previous night from the Internet.

Mulder grinned "Nessie hunting? I'll play Ahab again, if you
want."

"Mulder, I have no intention of spending another freezing night
with you at the edge of a swamp."

"Ah, c'mon Scully, these little outings are great team building
opportunities."

As Scully gave him a meaningful glare, she failed to see a
protruding rock under the snow. The edge of her heel caught and
she stumbled. Her hand instinctively reached out to break her fall
and Mulder twisted to brace her. He missed by a fraction and
Scully ended up with her hand in his crotch, pushing them both off
balance until they ended up on the ground. Unbeknownst to Scully,
her hand still rested on Mulder's groin as she pushed down hard in
order to stand.

"Jesus Scully!" Mulder's face registered shock and not a little
pain. Scully snatched her hand away and reddening, mumbled an
apology. It had barely registered on her that half the occupants
were playing at the front of the castle. The children were
forbidden from going onto the helicopter landing pad, but it had
not stopped them from running to meet there new heroes once the
agents were clear of the field. "At least wait till we're inside
first, what will the children think?" Mulder squeaked in pain. But
it was almost worth it, seeing her blush like that.

The children surrounded them, laughing and trying to help them to
their feet. Suddenly the group fell silent as they spied both
Mulder and Scully's weapons, exposed where their coats had opened
during the fall.

In the momentary silence that followed this fascinating revelation
to the children Scully mumbled "Promises, promises."

Sometimes, rarely, Scully could stop him dead in his tracks. He
just wished he didn't have to resume his pace with a slight limp.

They briefly related to Forrester the events of the morning.
Although Dale wanted them to stay for the formal Christmas lunch,
once Mulder learned the weather would likely turn nasty for days
to come, he was anxious to keep moving. They bundled charts and
photos in a bag and helicoptered to the outskirts of the village
where Dale kept his launch. Scully watched the helicopter depart
and commented on the lack of activity around the wharf. Even the
lock keepers seemed to be absent.

"Christmas Day, Scully! No-one moves in this country, they're all
at home around the fireplace, feasting on honey ham and Yorkshire
pud."

"Mm, " Scully replied, "Well at least we have a picnic." And she
motioned to a basket the butler had packed in the helicopter. The
pilot told her it contained a 'little Christmas something' from
the dining table.

"So, do you know how to drive this thing Mulder? I don't want to
sink another boat." Scully called out as she took the basket and
her bag into the galley below.

"That will do very nicely, Miss Scully." A cockney voice made her
turn swiftly, reaching for her weapon as she swung, but her thick
jumper hindered her draw and the world blackened.

Mulder was having his own problems. Before he could register more
than a yellow jacket, he'd been tackled to the deck of the wheel
house. Mulder was not overly muscular, but it took two of them to
hold him down.

"Scully! Scully?" he cried out in warning.

"Too late mate, we've already taken care of yer pretty little
missus." Anger and terror galvanised Mulder and he threw off his
assailants with titanic force. He crashed through into the galley
"Scully!" but was stopped dead by the sight of a woman with a
pistol held firmly at the base of his partner's neck.

"Whoa there me good lad!" said a voice behind him "Don't won't me
ta blow the little missus head orf do ya? Now why don't you just
back on out of there like a good chap. We'll just take her to a
nice, safe place and then you and I can go for a little boat ride.
We just want to have a chat, that's all."

Mulder looked in despair at the drops of blood on the wooden
decking. His voice cracked with emotion "If you've killed her...."

"Nah. She'll be fine! Just a wee headache when she wakes up. Okay,
lads go dump her and we'll be orf."

Mulder watched helplessly as one of the men picked Scully up by
the ankles and began dragging her from the cabin. Incensed by
their cavalier treatment of her unconscious body, he itched to
reach the spare gun strapped to his leg. One of the men motioned
him to follow Scully but as Mulder walked by, someone cold cocked
him.

"Now waddya goin' do that for? Ya could haf killed him!" Yellow
jacket whined

"Nah, he's type don't kill easy, but they do cause problems." The
woman replied.

"It's too risky dumping them in the loch near here. Take the boat
to the far end and lose 'em." Added an older man.

Yellow jacket frowned. "I though we wus just gonna ask him,
friendly like, about..."

The older man looked at yellow jacket with cold eyes "Look, you
said he ordered radiation tests. We can fix it our end to make
sure those tests are not done on the bodies, but we need to
dispose of mister yank copper and his missus if the idea is to be
squashed entirely. And with this blizzard coming, I can't think of
a better way. Just dump 'im in the woods at the far end of the
Loch, and then dump 'er overboard somewhere deep. Don't kill them
or bang them up any more than you hafta, if they're found later
on, it hasta look like natural like. It'll be dusk by the time you
get there and that's the end o' that. I'm not paid to pussy foot
around, ya know, and neither are you."

"Yeah, but killin' coppers ain't smart."

"Who says we're killing 'em? The weather will do it for us. Now
let's get going. Stevie, Mac and I will take the van down to
Patrick's landing. You and Nancy take the boat and dump them at
Spire's Point. It's a good seven mile hike in any direction to the
nearest shelter. Then get the boat to Patrick's. We'll cast it
adrift. It will be two or three days before anyone's gonna be able
to go lookin' for it with this weather settin' in and afterwards,
no-one's gonna bother with radiation tests, especially wif wot
happened this morning."

Yellow jacket frowned, but he'd disposed of people before in a
similar manner. The coming storm was tailor made for the job.

"Righto." His face brightened as he spotted the picnic basket "And
look, the little missus even brought us Christmas lunch!"

Scully woke with a pounding headache. Nope, pounding was not the
word, more like agonising shafts of white pain jack hammering
through her skull. It took her a few moments to realise her hands
and feet were bound and something slimy and disgusting was jammed
into her mouth, adding to her growing nausea. She sat still, her
eyes closed, until she could adjust to the pain in her head. She
also felt cold and realised her jacket and jumper had been
removed. Fortunately her ski suit was a bib and brace type. The
shirt underneath was thin, but her chest and back were not as cold
as they might have been.

"So yer awake luv?" a woman's voice asked casually "Wot a pity, if
you'd stayed under you would haf just drifted off to sleep like,
none the wiser." Scully tried to sit, but the pain and her
bindings made it difficult. She slowly swiveled her head to look
to the voice, then blinked in surprise. The woman was holding
Scully's jumper.

Following the direction of Scully's eyes the woman said "I rather
fancied it and since you ain't gonna be needing it, well, wot's
the harm, I thought." The woman stood and looked out of a porthole
"We're there."

Mulder had no idea of the passage of time, but he opened his eyes
and tried to gauge how much light was left in the sky. It seemed
to be darker... but then a blinding light flooded the world.

"Wot the bloody hell...?" his yellow jacketed captor let out a
high pitched scream. Mulder couldn't see properly in the glare of
the light, but he suddenly found himself lifted by a powerful
force. Whatever had grabbed him took him clear off his feet and
turned him around. Mulder flinched when he recognised the face of
the alien bounty hunter.

"What the...?" But Mulder was dropped like a discarded rag doll.
He blacked out for a few moments then yellow jacket was kicking
him in the ribs. Mulder staggered to his feet, with no memory of
the previous nine minutes.

"C'mon, get up, we're goin' for a little walk, you and I."

"Where's Scully?"

"You mean ya little missus? Don't you worry, she's bein' stored
somewhere nice and safe. You don't give me no trouble matey and
she'll be just fine."

Yellow jacket had long learned the art of pacifying captors was to
let them live in hope. Desperate men made desperate and some times
dangerous moves. It wouldn't hurt to let the poor blighter think
that his pretty little partner was safe and sound.

"What do you want from her, what do you want from me?"

"You bin pokin' your nose in places you shouldn't. The guv'nor
don't like that so you and me are gonna take a little walk in the
forest."

Mulder knew it would be a one way walk. His legs had been hobbled
but he searched the cabin for some sort of weapon. Then his is
eyes hit on the gas tap at the base of the galley sink. He might
be killed but he'd damn well make certain his killers paid. He
kicked at the gas tap then, pretending to stumble, grabbed one of
the knobs on the stove, twisting it on as he regained his balance.
Yellow jacket ordered him to quite fooling around and get a move
on.

Mulder's captor shoved him roughly into a wooden tender and rowed
them ashore. Mulder thought about throwing himself over the side,
but one look at the sludgy ice on the loch was enough to change
his mind. With bound wrists and hobbled legs the cold would
probably kill him before he reached the shore. The light was
fading and he looked up to see the gathering storm clouds. Snow
was already falling and the wind was picking up.

"What have you done with Scully?"

"I told ya, you ain't got no worry over her s'long as you do as
yer told wif me. I ain't goin to do yer in, I'm just dropping you
of, like. Now how yer gonna survive is another story, but that
ain't my problem."

Mulder realised his captor's intention. With a storm brewing and
night coming, the chances of survival were almost nil. But
unbeknownst to yellow jacket, Mulder recognised this part of the
Loch. He and Dale had hiked here in the summers, fishing from this
very inlet. Mulder glanced around, yeah, that was it, over there
on the far side. Dale had said he's finally got around to building
a cabin...Mulder didn't like the chances of finding it in the
growing darkness, but they were better than throwing himself into
the freezing loch.

The tender felt the bottom and yellow jacket ordered him out.
Mulder refused to budge, he did not want to appear cooperative.

"Well, you know as well as I do that I don't want to shoot you coz
I want you found nice and frozen, natural causes, like. I figure
you lost yer way and maybe bumped yer noggin, but bullet holes
would be a bit suspicious. Still, if that's the way you want it,
I'm not going to be fussy coz I can just as readily dump you in
the loch. Not as convenient, like, because there'll be a longer
search, but in a pinch..." He raised his gun and cocked it. Mulder
grasped the side of the tender and with great difficulty eased his
hobbled legs into the freezing water.

"What about these?" Mulder motioned to his bindings,

Yellow jacket grinned as he took up the oars. He paddled out a few
strokes then pulled a small knife from his pocket and tossed it
into the snow. Mulder's eyes followed it, but he would not give
the man satisfaction of scrambling for it.

Yellow jacket stood upright and, with a farewell grin, turned his
back on Mulder and rowed in an unusual forward gate back to the
launch. Yellow jacket's back turning gesture was not lost on
Mulder.

He eyed the place in the snow where the knife had fallen and
quickly finding it, sliced through the bindings. His feet were
freezing from the cold, but he stood, grimly watching yellow
jacket tie the tender to the stern of the launch. When yellow
jacket started the petrol engine, he would be in for a nasty
surprise.

But as his assailant entered the wheel house, Mulder's entire
world turned upside down. The front hatch of the launch opened.
Scully staggered out and headed towards the wheel house. Mulder
screamed at the top of his lungs "Scullllyyy!"

Too late. Yellow jacket had turned the ignition key and the launch
disintegrated in a smoky fireball.

Sculllyyyyy!!!"

CHAPTER 14
LOCH MEADE
CHRISTMAS DAY - NIGHTFALL

The cold seeped into his already chilled body until the pain
penetrated his bones. He'd known his chances of survival were slim
but as the shock overwhelmed him, it simply didn't matter.

Every instinct demanded that he swim to what still remained of the
burning hull and find her. Every instinct in him refuted such a
suicidal act. The temperature was well below freezing. Thin ice
had already formed across much of the loch. He glanced up at the
impending storm. The snow was starting to fall at an angle as the
wind picked up. Mulder tried to stand, but the pain of her loss
lanced into him like a spear and he stumbled, calling out her name
in despair, racking his vocal chords raw. Nausea overcame him and
he emptied his stomach until raw bile burned his already torn
vocal chords.

Tears streamed down his face, more from the violence of being ill
than emotion. Those tears would have followed later but he would
be dead by then.

It simply didn't matter any more.

It would have been so much better if she had never come into his
life. Christ he would have long since been dead if Scully had not
saved his butt a hundred times. And being dead was so much better
than this form of pain.

Scully was dead.

He'd killed her.

What sick son of a bitch came up with the 'better to have loved
and lost' phrase?

"Oh God!!!" Mulder howled in an agony of despair.

His gun.

His gun had been removed from his hip holster but they had been
sloppy and missed the spare weapon at his ankle. God it would be
so much better than this pain.

But why give himself that release? He'd be dead soon enough. He
deserved this pain before facing whatever other hell awaited him.

He shook his head and looked around, willing the cold and dark to
come and take his pain away, but something caught his eye.

Something to the south.

It could not be debris from the vessel, despite the increasing
wind, it could not have blown that far so quickly. Mulder pulled
his glove off and angrily pushed the tears from his blurred eyes
with the ball of his hand. He blinked and looked again.

Something was there.

Something was there! Something on the beach.

Mulder ran through the snowdrifts like a man running for his life.
He was running for his life! Hope forced back the logic that it
would only be an animal. But as he closed the gap he cried out in
a voice broken with disbelief and relief, all in one. "Scully!" he
cried repeatedly, begging for it to be her as he reached the prone
form.

How could she have gotten there? How long had she been there? It
made no sense. She was on the boat, he'd seen her.

Or had she? He had seen a red headed women wearing her
jumper....The woman that had stood over Scully in the galley had
red hair...

He stripped his jacket as he reached her. Laying face down in the
snow, her lower body partially immersed in the frigid water, he
willed her to be alive. She must be alive!

Her eyes were bruised and sunken, her face the color of chalk and
her lips blue. Scully looked like any one of a hundred corpses
he'd seen on autopsy tables. Terror arced through his body, almost
paralysing him as he searched for a pulse at her throat. Oh Christ
how many times could she been taken from him? How many times had
this cruel joke been perpetrated? Was this it then, the final
irony? She dies of cold while not a fifty meters away he throws
his guts out and beats his breast and wallows in self fucking
misery?

Mulder thanked a God he'd never believed in as he felt a beat and
then another and another. But, oh! So slow, so very slow, too
slow! She was freezing! How long had she been in the water? How
had she managed to swim that far and not succumb to the cold?

He abused himself with a thousand curses for having lost control
and wasting precious minutes. If he'd kept his head and looked
sooner...

Mulder pushed the thoughts aside. He took control now. There was
no more time for bullshit self flagellation. He looked up at the
angry clouds above. The oncoming blizzard would kill them both.
Nothing mattered now but to find shelter and warmth.


Mulder kneeled in the snow and pulled his partner's limp form in
his arms, wrapping his jacket around her. She was so cold, so very
very cold. He cradled her, about to pick her up when he stopped
and looked to the trees. Dale would have built the cabin near
their favorite fishing place.

There had been no sign of habitation from the air, or the water.
It made sense that he would have built back from the edge of the
loch. But Mulder recalled Dale boasting that he could throw a line
practically from the back window. Mulder glanced at his partner.
Why was Scully here? Why not the other side of the lake? Why this
particular spot?

Mulder had no choice, he had to play a hunch, that somehow
Scully's escape had been assisted and she had struck out in this
direction for a reason. If she'd fallen in, or escaped unaided,
natural instinct would have dictated she swim to the right, both
because the distance to shore was far shorter and she was right
handed. Scully must have headed this way for a reason.

He lifted her, grunting under the weight of her water-saturated
clothes and his own weakness and struck off into the trees. As the
storm approached, the wind chill factor pushed the temperature
lower by the second. A few paces into the trees brought a
grateful, albeit limited protection from the increasing wind. But
the trees also brought darkness. How much longer before the storm
hit and night fell? He looked up into the forest, waiting for his
eyes to adjust and almost cried out in relief as he spied the
cabin, set on a knoll where they used to pitch tents. It was
barely visible through the rapidly darkening forest.

Mulder looked down at his partner, frightened by the color of her
lips. She might have had a pulse, but was she still breathing?

"C'mon Scully, were almost there. C'mon, don't quit now!"

He half ran and half staggered to the cabin through flurries of
snow. The windows were shuttered and the door closed. Mulder
didn't know if he had the strength to break it down and prayed it
was unlocked. Lightening suddenly struck in the distance and he
automatically counted off the seconds as he staggered to the door.

"Eight one thousand, nine one thousand..." the ground rumbled and
built into a crescendo as he gently dropped his partner's feet
onto the porch of the cabin. Mulder reached up and blinked in
surprise at his gloveless right hand. He could not feel the latch
as he touched it. He could not feel his hand at all.

The landscape was suddenly thrown into stark contrast as
lightening struck again. The snowfalls began to thicken, coming in
at an angle. Looking over his shoulder at the treetops, Mulder
could see the wind getting serious. He moved Scully to his right
arm, praying he would not drop her and lifted the latch with his
left hand. The door swung in gently. He scooped up his partner in
his arms again and carried her inside, closing the door with his
foot.

Mulder glanced quickly around but it was hard to see in the dark.
He looked again at Scully's face and fear arced through his
stomach. Her lips and eyes seemed like black shadows in the dim
light of the cabin. How long had she been immersed? How long? How
many minutes since acute hypothermia had set in? How long had he
stupidly delayed? How long before her system shut down entirely?

Mulder had no answers so he searched for and found the door to the
bathroom, almost running now in his need to get Scully warmed. But
as he opened the door he wondered how in hell was he going to get
water heated? His heart fell further when he realised there was no
bathtub. Why would there be? Dale hated baths, he only ever
showered. He spied a large white rectangular shape mounted by the
window glanced at the wall and exclaimed "Yes!"

He lowered Scully gently to the floor, stopping only long enough
to make sure she still breathed. Pulling his now wet jersey over
his head he dropped it to the floor and moved swiftly into the
main cabin. His eyes narrowed in the gloom and he stumbled over a
fixed ladder. Glancing upwards, he filed the information for later
and made his way to a doorway across the room. Dale had driven him
nuts with his anal retentive habits but Mulder almost forgave him
when he found the kitchen and spotted the light colored porcelain
pot near the stove. Reaching in with his left hand, he grinned as
his fingers curled around the matches. He grabbed a lantern from
the top of the icebox and returned to the bathroom.

God he was so cold. Mulder shivered uncontrollably as he knelt
beside his partner. He needed light, but match after match simply
would not ignite when he used his left hand. Finally, Mulder
concentrated on watching his right hand and willed it to grasp the
match firmly. Two tries and he finally had it.

Seconds later he raised the lamp, but almost dropped it as he saw
Scully's staring eyes.

"No!" He dropped to one knee, placed the lamp on the ground and
felt for her pulse again.

Slow, oh so slow! But was she breathing? He couldn't tell. He
leaned over and placed his mouth over hers, tilting her neck back,
wanting to feel the breath leave her body. But there was nothing -
or was there? He breathed for her.

"C'mon Scully, c'mon! We're almost there!" He breathed for her
again a few times, willing her to wake and tell him it was a joke.
Mulder's mind drifted as the cold began to take its toll. Forcing
himself to concentrate he knew that nothing would help but to get
her warm. He had to get the gas lit and the shower running.
Getting her to breathe was not going to help if he couldn't
restore her body heat.

Mulder opened the gas valve and struck a match. But his right hand
refused to obey until the fourth match flared. As he thrust it
into the pilot hole he half expected to burn himself. But to his
horror, nothing happened. The match fizzled and died. Almost
crying out in frustration he realised the gas connection would
have been turned off - from outside the cabin.

"Shit!" Taking a quick look at Scully he breathed again for her
four, five times then could only pray she was still alive. He
dropped the matches on the floor beside her and picking up the
lantern ran for the front door. Outside the wind cut through his
wet shirt like a thousand razor blades. He gasped in agony and
staggered. But he was not really hypothermic. Not yet. He was just
unbelievably cold. He'd been cold before. He's almost died of cold
before. This was completely different.

Keep telling yourself that Mulder, he repeated over and over as he
circled behind the cabin to where the gas bottles must be. He held
the lantern high in his left hand and spotted the bottles braced
to the cabin wall. Mulder reached out and grabbed the tap with his
right hand to twist it. It didn't want to budge, then he realised
he couldn't feel it. He tried to take a firmer grip then
remembered too late that hand was next to useless. He went to
change hands but his fingers seemed stuck to the valve.

"Stupid! Stupid, stupid, stupid!" Mulder's thought processes were
rapidly deteriorating, but he had the presence of mind to force
his arm around, turning the gas on, before gritting his teeth and
ripping his hand from the metal valve. He didn't dare look,
knowing that a good part of his skin was still attached to the gas
faucet. The only saving grace was that he was so cold, he felt no
pain. There would be a price to pay later, but that mattered
little.

Mulder staggered back into the cabin, slamming and bolting the
door behind him. He made his way to the bathroom, terrified of
what he might find. Scully lay still, unmoving. He could not have
been outside the cabin for more than a minute or so. He kneeled
and breathed into her lungs again, five times. Her pulse was weak
and thready. Wasn't she supposed to respond if she'd been
breathing herself? He couldn't remember. Hell, he wasn't a doctor!

"Okay, Scully, almost there." He stood and turned the gas faucet
on again. Every ounce of his existence concentrated on lighting
the match. He swallowed hard when it sparked first time, and
thrust the burning filament into the pilot hole.

"C'mon, c'mon!"

It took a few seconds for the gas to work its way through the
plumbing, but then it took. He cried out in relief as the lines of
blue flames burst into being. Fire had never looked so good.

Mulder reached into the shower and opened both faucets on full,
then turned back to his partner. He squatted on the floor,
breathing for her again and lifted Scully against his legs,
leaving his coat in a puddle on the floor. All she had was a thin
shirt and ski pants, but getting them off seemed impossible, so he
quickly stripped himself naked, breathing for her between
discarding clothing, then picked her clothed form up and pulled
her into the shower receptacle with him.

The tepid water burned his skin and he gasped. The water should
only be blood temperature at best, he remembered. Where had he
remembered that? Concentrate! He reached for the faucet to turn it
down but realised that it was not really hot. His skin was just so
cold.

Concentrate dammit! He had to strip her. He had to get her under
the water and warmed!

The whole exercise seemed like walking in sticky treacle.
Everything worked against him. Scully's buckles would not undo, he
could not breathe for her at that angle, his hand bled on
everything and stickied the surface, making zippers and buttons
impossible. The laces on her boots would not undo. But as Mulder
worked, the tepid water flowing over him gradually cleared his
mind. Presently, he had her stripped to her underwear. He
gradually increased the temperature of the water. Holding Scully
against him with his right arm he stood naked with her under the
shower. And he felt slight puffs from her mouth.

It was hard to tell in the dim light of the lantern, but her face
looked a little less blue. She was definitely breathing, maybe she
had never stopped. He allowed himself to think they might be all
right.

Mulder slowly lowered himself and his partner to the floor of the
shower, having plugged the drain with her shirt. There was already
an inch or two of luke warm water in the bottom, so he leaned
against the wall and closed his eyes. He cradled Scully in his
arms as the water cascaded over their bodies and filled the
shallow receptacle until it overflowed.


Mulder had not given himself time to think about what had happened
that day. About what had gone wrong. His past actions and their
consequences to Scully began to weigh heavily on his mind. He had
almost killed her because of some blind need to take revenge.

Again.

How many times had he gone blindly into the fray, made reckless
fast decisions and ignored the potential consequences to this
woman, his partner, his friend, his...more than all of that? Oh
God she was everything to him.

She made him whole.

He had almost killed her today.

Concentrate dammit!

He must concentrate on only one thing, keeping alive that part of
him which gave him life.

Goddammit, not just for him, but for her. She deserves so much
more. How long had he sat there? How long before the water ran
out? How long did he need to keep her here? What if...Mulder shook
his head and looked up. Watching the water spray down, he listened
to the growing storm outside. He'd never been much on counting
blessings before but...

"Ah hell..." the water fizzled and finally, stopped altogether.
Mulder felt his partner's body. The shower had not generated
sufficient heat to warm even the tiny bathroom, let alone the
cabin. They were not out of the woods yet. He had to find
something to dry her and keep her warm. But at least his head was
clearer now. Mulder began to shiver, but not in the uncontrolled
fashion of before.

If Dale still kept matches in a porcelain pot by the stove, it was
a sure bet he kept a robe behind the bathroom door. He clutched
Scully to himself then stepped across the edge of the shower and
nudged the door closed with his foot. He grinned, momentarily
cheered by the sight of the thick white robe. Pulling it to
himself, he wrapped Scully then carried her to the main cabin.
There, against the far wall, he could just make out the shape of a
large bed. Mulder carried her across and laid her to one side then
pulled the bed covers down. He was about to roll her gently into
the bed when he realised he had not stripped her wet underwear.
The restraints he had deliberately set himself caused him to
hesitate, but he pushed his qualms aside and stripped her, it was
not as if he had never seen her naked before.

Covering her in the eiderdown quilts, Mulder grabbed the robe and,
despite it being wet, flung it around his shoulders in an attempt
to retain what little warmth he'd gained from the shower.

Priorities, he had to get his priorities right. Scully was not out
of danger yet. He must get a fire going to warm the cabin, then he
had to get her warm.

Mulder returned to the bathroom, turned off the gas and collected
the matches and lantern. Opposite the bed was a fireplace. Cold
and barren, even of old ashes, it was clear Dale had left the pace
in the same immaculate order as always. But Mulder grinned again
as his eyes rested on the stack of logs and wood shavings - stored
in various matched sizes of course - and began to wonder if there
wasn't something to be said for anal personalities.

In no time, Mulder had a fire going. He stacked it well with logs
then turned back to the bed to check Scully. His mind was clear
and although he felt unbelievably tired, Mulder realised it was
mostly emotional exhaustion.

He had almost killed her.

Again.

He sat on the side of the bed and, holding the lantern high looked
at his partners' face. Her lips were still blue. He touched her
forehead, cold, far too cold. Under the down covers her body felt
like ice. She shouldn't be that cold! A vague memory came back,
12% of body heat is lost through the head. He glanced up at the
coat rack by the door and saw a couple of hats, including a dark
ski mask. He took it from the rack and placed it over Scully's wet
hair, covering her ears and mouth, wondering if it was safe to
cover her nose. Maybe not, he would not risk it. Glancing around
it was clear that no other beds existed in the cabin, not even a
couch. He could probably make himself comfortable in one of the
armchairs, in front of the fire, but Scully's extreme cold
frightened him.

There was really only one way to restore her body heat. Well, two,
but he pushed that sally from his mind before it took form. He
recalled nights together where she had held him in her arms as he
lay shivering and sick or wounded. She would not have hesitated a
moment to do the same for him. She never hesitated to do anything
for him. Mulder pursed his lips, breathed deeply and pulled the
wet robe off. Then he lifted the quilt and climbed into bed.

He took his partner's body and pulled it on top of his. Gasping at
the extent of her cold Mulder wondered for a moment if he was just
making it worse. His body was no hot water bottle. But the warmth
of the eiderdown began to take effect and he knew this was going
to work. How Scully would react when she woke and took stock of
the situation was another matter. But for the first time that
afternoon, he let himself grin.

Mulder remained still for a long time, his breath slowing and his
mind, as well as body finally relaxing. He felt himself falling
asleep as those parts of Scully's body that touched him, gradually
warmed. He ran his left hand across her torso and changed her
position against himself. So cold! He'd warm one part only to find
another so cold it seemed he could do nothing to warm her
properly. He rubbed his legs gently against the soft skin of hers,
trying to force some of his heat into her. Finally, to maximise
the amount of contact, he discarded propriety and pulled her face
down directly on top of him. Her balaclava'ed head lay resting on
his chest. He wrapped his legs over hers and firmly rubbed his
hands across her back and thighs, trying to massage in warmth.

Mulder's right hand had started to function again and with
awareness came pain. The deep ache in his hand was probably a mild
case of frostbite. He'd been lucky, the intensifying pain and use
of fingers meant his hand would likely be okay. He tried to
examine it in the dim light of the fire, but all he could see were
bloody patches. Mulder mentally shook his head, he was not going
to get up now and try to treat the wounds.

Rubbing Scully's body took on a rhythmic, almost hypnotic motion
and in time, his exhaustion finally overwhelmed him and he slept.


Scully's movements woke him. He lay still a moment then heard her
moan softly. The light from the fire had dimmed and he glanced
down, feeling his partner's naked body lying prone on his equally
naked form. The pain and fear of the previous night had drifted
away into this soft, warm moment. Nothing unusual in that, it was
the way he dealt with most horrors, simply left them to drift away
in whatever small warmth he could find. And for the last few years
that small warmth was right here, a copper topped bundle of woman.
A midnight phone call, a look into her eyes, standing close to
her, a touch if he thought he could risk it. It was enough to hold
his sanity in place.

But then he wondered what had happened to her sanity? When was the
last time he had really seen her laugh, or, for God's sake, even
smile? She had smiled these last few days, but it was not with him
or for him.

It was with Dale.

Not with him, never with him. He had ripped the smiles and laughs
from her soul while devouring her warmth of spirit to fill his own
selfish needs. God, had he turned into some sort of male succubus?
Libidinous thoughts idly peeked through.

Christ Mulder you really are pitiful. She's lying half dead in
your arms and all you can do is get a hard on! He instantly
squashed it. It was so inappropriate he was disgusted with his
subconscious.

So what was new about that?

He had to get up and find some clothes.

"Scully, Scully...Dana?"

His partner did not respond verbally, although she made feeble
motions with her arms.

Mulder felt his emotions swing once again, and allowed himself a
small smile. She was alive, he was alive, they had enjoyed a taste
of the real world, kids and Christmas. They were safe, secure and
relatively warm. Neither of them were in immediate danger. That
was enough for now.

He gently lifted her from him and pulled the covers off. Gasping
as the cold air hit his nakedness, he climbed across the bed and
went to stoke the fire. New kindling burned brightly, so he
reached for the robe and, hanging it on the back of a chair,
brought it as close to the fire grate as he dared. He picked up
Scully's wet underwear and draped it over the mantelpiece, idly
hoping the thin garments might dry by morning. Then he crouched in
front of the now blazing fire and examined his right hand. It
wasn't as bad as he thought, just incredibly sore. Patches of skin
had been ripped away, but the flesh beneath seemed relatively
intact. He should find a medical kit and some clothes.

A muffled groan came from the bed. Scully's form moved slightly so
he went to her. The cold was too much and the bed too tempting so
he pulled the covers over himself again.

"Scully? Scully can you hear me?"

"Mmm....Mulder?" She reached a hand towards his voice. He took it
and pulled himself towards her.

"Cold....Mulder I'm cold." She whispered.

Mulder gently lifted her shoulders and pulled her to him once
more. Scully nestled in the crook of his arm, resting her head on
his shoulder and reaching her hand around his chest. His familiar
smell calmed her and she drifted back to sleep. Mulder smiled
again and touched the balaclava. The temperature in the cabin was
still low, but the only way her hair would dry properly would be
to remove the ski mask. So he gently eased it from her head.

"Mulder?"

"It's okay now Scully, you're fine, go back to sleep." He tenderly
brushed the lose strands of hair from her face and tucked them
behind her ear.

Scully's hand moved across his chest in slow patterns as she
subconsciously assured herself of his presence. Mulder breathed
deeply. Wrapping her in his arms, he rested his cheek against her
head, wanting to hold her, to protect her against forces that
sought to destroy them. Scully rarely allowed him to see her as
anything other than completely in control, strong and capable,
needless of protection. It was a fine balance between them and
yet, as was the case now, they had from time to time taken shelter
in one other's arms, in the strength of each other's comforting
presence.

Mulder rubbed her shoulders and she murmured softly, a small smile
playing across her lips. He felt his heart move with the strength
of his feelings for her. The strength of his love and need.

Where the hell were these thoughts coming from? They had intruded
into his mind twice in the past two days.

Twice too many.

Mulder closed his eyes and breathed deeply of her soft woman
scent. His crusade had been forced upon her and her life was now
invested in their mutual need for those truths. That she
considered the answers must reside in the realms of her safe,
ordered world of science made no difference, they traveled the
same road. And that their road, their everyday life, was the stuff
of other's worst nightmares, was in fact a choice they both made.
A thousand times he'd blamed himself for all her lost smiles, for
all her lost youth. A million times he'd blamed himself for
Samantha. And yet every now and then he accepted the truth. The
truth of his parents grand deception, to allow, no, to encourage
the boy Fox to blame himself because they were incapable of
accepting blame for their own far greater sins.

Had he ever forgiven his father?

Jesus, in truth did he know if Bill was his father?

And if not, could he ever forgive Spender, or himself for that
matter, for almost succumbing to the horror of their truth.

But then there was Scully, saving his sorry ass once again.

God he loved her. He loved her enough to give her up. But Scully
would not be given up so easily. She had made it her life too, not
just because of him, but for herself.

He sighed and looked at his watch. 5.53am. How much more sleep
would he get? As reluctant as he was to leave her, such thoughts
had the inevitable effect on his libido. He really had to find
some clothes before she woke. And he needed to attend to his hand.

The cold air assaulted his body and he shivered, but it was
nothing like the night before. It should be easy enough to find
what he needed. Dale used to keep his underwear in the top drawer
of a dresser, tee shirts next and so on. Reaching for the lantern,
Mulder chuckled as he recalled the nights he'd swapped the drawers
around, just to confuse him.

It only took him a few moments to locate a large dresser and
closet. He quickly donned a pair of Dale's briefs. Dale had
laughed at Mulder's shorts when he'd first spied them. Mulder
hated tight underwear, it made him feel like he was wearing
Speedo's all the time, but they would do for now. He found a tee
shirt and a thick, fleecy track suit. Woolen ski socks completed
the ensemble. Looking through the drawers, he located a few
smaller shirts. Dale had a propensity to wearing them tight. They
would do nicely for Scully. He threw them on the bed along with
another tracksuit and pair of wool socks. Grabbing hangers from
the closet, he went back into the bathroom and stared at the wet
bundle of freezing clothes in the shower. His didn't matter so
much, so he hung them over the shower rail, but Scully would be
none too impressed having to clomp around in Dale's boots. He
placed her boots and shirt in front of the fireplace then went
back into the bathroom to hang the remainder of her clothes and
find the medical kit. Mulder noticed a jagged tear and a
reasonable amount of blood on the back of her ski pants and
frowned. He'd felt some contusions on her the night before and was
certain the sticky blood he'd touched on her thigh was not from
his hand, but he had felt no obvious lacerations. However Mulder
mentally conceded that his brain had not been firing on all
cylinders. He'd attend to his hand first, then check her for
wounds.

"Good ol' Mom. " Mulder muttered as he stared at a huge range of
medical necessities in a wall cupboard. There were tubes of
frostbite cream with the lids all nicely in place. Mulder grabbed
one, a bottle of ethanol and a carton of assorted bandages and
clips and took it back out to the fireplace.

He grimaced as he squeezed half a tube over his hand, then wrapped
the bandages around as snugly as he could and clipped them in
place. The cream must have had some xylocaine or similar, he
thought, for the throbbing and pain immediately began to fade.

Mulder stoked the fire then went back to Scully. It took him a few
minutes to find it, but he winced when he saw the wound. Just
where her leg joined her buttock a long, jagged cut arced up and
inward. She'd probably been hit by flying debris from the
explosion. But no,there was also bruising on her buttock and
thigh. She must have fallen or been pushed onto something.

He pursed his lips, the cut stretched into her groin. It was a
lousy location to put butterfly bandages. As clinically as
possible, Mulder wiped the area with a ethanol and pulled the lips
of the cut together. He knew it was far too late to get them to
join neatly, but at least it would stop any further bleeding. In
the dim light he could see darker patches on the brown sheets. He
studiously avoided touching or looking at anything other than the
cut, wishing he could maintain the same clinical detachment as
Scully used when patching him. And wishing most wholeheartedly
that the cut had not extended as far as it did. The butterfly
bandage would hurt like hell when she took it off because he sure
as hell was not going to shave her. Mulder took a deep breath when
he'd finished his handiwork. It was not perfect, but it would do.
His only concern now was that she had not woken during his
ministrations. But a glance at her face proved him wrong.

Although Scully was by no means lucid, the frown on her face and
small moan indicated her discomfort. He was relieved, as much as
he had not wanted to disturb her, Scully's lack of response had
been disquieting. By the time he had finished dressing her and
pulled the covers over both of them again, she was more aware.

"Mulder, what are your doing?"

"It's only fair I get to play doctor, too."

"What?" but her eyes hardly opened.

"Nothin' Scully, go back to sleep."

She tried to roll over and grimaced, reaching for him in the dull
light. He took her hand and she opened her eyes.

"You were dressing me. Mulder, where are my clothes?" Scully tried
to sit, but shivered as the eiderdown fell from her shoulders.
"I'm so cold." He moved closer and taking her in his arms again,
pulled the covers up.

Mulder frowned, wondering if he should answer or encourage her to
go back to sleep, but he could see the interior shape of the cabin
now and glancing at his watch, realised it was close to dawn.

"Why do I feel so cold?" she asked in a small voice.

"You're a bright girl, you should know marathon swimming is not
part of the Winter Olympics."

Scully pushed the residual sleep from her mind, but nothing was
really clear. Then she remembered being thrown into the water. The
incredible, unbelievable pain of cold flooding through her body.
And his words "You have one chance Agent Scully. Forrester's cabin
is amongst those trees. " He had pointed to the far bank. "If you
can swim that far, perhaps you might survive."


Why he had dumped her remained a mystery. Or perhaps not, the
chances of surviving in the water for more than a few minutes were
remote. Her ski pants quickly filled and if she'd felt cold when
falling in, it was nothing compared to the needles of pain that
raced up her legs and back as the water soaked in. But Scully did
not react to him or his words. It was a fight against time now, to
get to the shore. As she reached out to stroke, her pants impeded
her. She wanted to strip them, but the cold had already started to
interfere with her reasoning. Scully tried to calculate the risk,
swim straight to shore and walk, or swim to the cabin. But the
shore was convoluted. The walk would take longer than swimming.
Perhaps. She had no idea as arm reached over arm in a rhythmic,
familiar pattern. She tried to kick, but the cut on her thigh hurt
and her leg reacted by cramping. The pain combined with the others
and only instinct kept her headed in the right direction. Her mind
darkened, starting to black out. Only years of lap swimming in an
automatic pattern kept her body moving when her brain willed it to
stop and rest, just for a few minutes.

Finally, nearing the shore, she heard Mulder's voice and the
sounds of wood on wood, a boat rowing. Mulder would save her. Just
as she felt the icy rime of the beach, her brain won out and she
blacked out. Her last thoughts were that when Mulder found her, at
least they were close to the cabin. She might not survive, but he
would.


"I knew you'd find me." She finally said.

"Well, I wasn't sure if it was you or a dead otter."

She grinned slowly, but then the grin faded as she shivered.

"Scully, you were badly hypothermic." He said softly as he wrapped
his arms around her. She took comfort in the warmth of his body
and curled her legs up into a ball, nestling against him.
Grimacing as she felt the cut again she heard Mulder continue
"Tell me what to do to help you."

"I'm not hypothermic anymore Mulder, I'm just plain cold. I'm
fine, really." His mouth tightened in annoyance "No, no you are
not fine Scully, you nearly died. You're a Doctor, just once try
to treat yourself as you would any other patient."

"I don't have any patients, except when you get yourself banged
up." But she smiled up at him and looked around. Clearly he had
found the cabin. The fire opposite was almost mesmerising and
minutes passed until she spoke. "I'd love a cup of hot chocolate."

Mulder took his arms from her and got up. He tucked the quilt
around her before turning to what she presumed was the kitchen.
Scully immediately missed the warm comfort of his body. She had
not thought about it before but she realised he had been in bed
with her.

"Dale was a nanny," Mulder called from the kitchen. "We nicknamed
him Mom because of an overly fastidious nature." He held a packet
of drinking chocolate in his hand and grinned at her through the
doorway. "I hate to admit this Scully, but for once I must concede
to his predilection's. This place is a veritable haven."

Scully slowly eased herself up in bed, trying to fight the
giddiness. She looked at the fire opposite then frowned slightly
and turned her head to one side in mute question.

"Mulder why is my underwear on the mantelpiece?'

"I thought I'd use them as Christmas stockings, give Santa a
thrill."

"Mulder, Christmas was yesterday. I'm serious."

Mulder called from the kitchen "Scully, you were saturated
through, then after another half hour in the shower, I couldn't
leave them on you. And unless Dale's changed in ways I'd prefer
not to ponder, I didn't think he'd have much in the way of spare
women's lingerie tucked into neat little pockets of his dresser."

Scully blinked again and digested that information. Her bladder
finally demanded her undivided attention and she eased herself out
of bed, grimacing at the cold. The dull pain in her left thigh and
the waves of giddiness and nausea threatened to overcome her.
Wrapping her arms about herself, she padded across the floor to
what she presumed was the bathroom, grabbing a thick sweater off
the end of the bed and pulling it around her shoulders as she
walked.

Mulder returned with two cups in hand "Hey Scully, I...." he
looked up and his heart skipped at the empty bed, but then he
noticed the bathroom door closed. He waited what he thought was an
appropriate length of time. Just as he was about to call out, she
hobbled out with a puzzled frown on her face. Still shivering, she
limped back to bed and pulled the quilt around herself. Mulder
climbed on to the bed and sat close, handing her a mug.

"Thanks," she replied, noticing his hand for the first time.
"Mulder, what's wrong with your hand?"

He waved it slightly in an effort to dismiss it, but blood had
seeped out off the bandages. "I think I got a touch of frostbite."

"That's more than a touch, you're bleeding."

Scully placed the mug on the headboard behind the bed and reached
for Mulder's hand.

"Let me have a look."

Mulder sighed, she looked exhausted so he would not fight her on
this. She examined the bandaging and said "If you're going to
administer yourself, you should learn to bandage..." Scully
stopped mid sentence, "At least as well as you bandaged me."

He grinned at her discomfiture "Hey Scully, ya gotta learn to get
yourself wounded in less difficult locations."

"I'll remind the next person who kidnaps me to take that into
consideration." She replied dryly as she unwrapped her partner's
ineffective bandages.

"It's more freeze burn than frost bite." Mulder commented, "I
grabbed a metal faucet."

"It's not as bad as it looks, I think," she replied, turning it
more into the light now coming through the window "What have you
found in the way of medication?"

"Anything your little heart desires, Dr. Scully! Dale's a
borderline hypochondriac, there's even plastic splints and an
oxygen resuscitation unit." Which he heartily wished he'd known
about the night before.

Mulder reached up behind her for the bandages, scissors and frost
bite cream.

Scully noticed the missing cap and tube squished from the center.
She glanced at him knowingly "This should be fine, Mulder. It has
antiseptic and mild anesthetic properties."

Scully gently spread the cream across his palm and fingers then
wrapped his hand in a firm, but flexible bandage.

"I used it on your hands and toes and some on your face, and on
the wound. I didn't think it would do any harm?"

Scully nodded without catching his eye, not really wanting to
discuss the placement of the butterfly bandages. "Thank you,"

"Oh the pleasure was all mine." He replied, deadpan.

Scully finally looked into Mulder's eyes and he almost laughed at
the fire in them, but he handed her the mug before she could say
anything. If he had a dime for every time he'd seen that look.

"What happened last night? How did you find this place?" She asked
between sips. He noticed that she was shivering again and
tentatively wrapped his arms around her. To his surprise she
snuggled closer, trying to absorb his warmth. Her eyes were still
sunken, her face and lips pale. No matter how strong she seemed,
Scully suffered the effects of her ordeal.

Mulder related the events from the time he was attacked until he
reached the shore "I booby trapped the boat before he forced me
off."

"How?"

"I bumped the gas faucet on as we went through gallery." Heavier
than air, Scully knew the odorless gas would settle in the bilges.
The spark from starting the petrol engine would be enough to blow
the boat into matchsticks. It was a common cause of fatal boating
accidents.

Mulder's voice dropped "He told me you were safe. I thought he
meant safe back at the village. When I saw a woman stagger out of
the front hatch wearing that jumper..." Mulder rubbed his face in
his other hand. "I...I thought it was you, then the boat blew. I
thought I'd killed you, Scully."

His voiced faded to a hoarse whisper.

Scully turned to look into his eyes, knowing the pain he would
have suffered. "The woman decided she like my jumper better on her
than me." There was a pause in the conversation as each considered
the events that had led them there.

"Mulder?" Scully said in a small voice "The bounty hunter came."

"What?" He almost dropped his mug in surprise. He quickly placed
it on the headboard and turned her shoulders to look him directly
in the face. How many times had she missed the moment? How often
had she arrived late, or been drugged or half out of it, denying
the reality that her skeptical mind refused to accept? "What did
you see?" he asked excitedly.

"I...I don't know Mulder," Scully replied in a little girl voice
"I saw a dark shadow over the boat....and lights....like the
lights on the bridge at Ruskin Dam..." She shook her head trying
to capture the image. "I've seen that aircraft before. He...he
smashed into the cabin and knocked me across the room. I think
that's when I injured my leg. Then he grabbed the woman like she
was a rag doll. He looked at her face...I think he was looking for
someone specific and the woman wasn't the one he wanted." Scully
then related how he had picked her up, pulled her onto the deck
and tossed her into the water.

"Mulder, can we talk about this later? I...need to think it
through before I can get a clear picture. How did you find the
cabin?"

Every instinct in Mulder demanded he grab his partner and force
her to recognise that something more than they had considered was
operating here. But he knew it was no good, he'd been down that
road too many times before. Scully would ascribe the experience to
an unexplained, but explainable phenomena. She would catalogue it
and file it and...No. No, that was unfair. Despite all evidence to
the contrary, Scully desperately clung to her faith in her science
to get her through. He clung to his faith in his convictions. They
each had their respective philosophical crutches.

"You had a post-it on your nose that said 'that away', with a
little arrow. Seriously, we used to fish this end of the Loch and
I knew Dale had built a cabin."

As they talked, Scully realised how comfortable it was to absorb
his warmth and presence. It had taken her a while to become
accustomed to Mulder's proximity. From day one, he stood or sat
way too close. He had no compunction reading over her shoulder,
intimately whispering observations in her ear. At first she though
he was trying to intimidate her. He was so much taller, bigger
than her diminutive frame. Then Scully considered that on their
first assignment together, his stories and their experiences had
crawled under her psych and she had gone to him in sheer terror,
dropping her robe for him to examine the lumps on her back. When
told it was just a few mosquito bites, she had turned and grasped
him in relief. Mulder had not taken advantage of that situation,
offering only to let her stay until she'd recovered. That brief
intimacy had opened him sufficiently to talk about his sister. But
at no time was there even the vaguest hint of impropriety.

Over time Scully realised Mulder's physical proximity was a form
of solidarity, of his need and affection for his partner when more
overt gestures might have been misinterpreted. As the years passed
it became their solidarity against the world. Other, more intimate
gestures of friendship grew. A touched face, a held hand, a hug,
even sleeping in one another's arms. Their physical closeness was
a language as strong and meaningful as any lover's while never
overstepping barriers that must be held in place if their
partnership was to succeed.

Still, sometimes Mulder took way too much delight in teasing her
and even now, after all these years, Scully occasionally wondered
how much was simply teasing.

Then that all changed the day in his apartment hallway. It was
clear his emotions had passed the formal line.

Or had they? Scully repeatedly asked herself. What defined the
powerful bonds between investigative partners but a deep and
abiding trust a...a love? She had witnessed such bonds countless
time between agents in the Bureau, in police and Sheriff's
stations. Without that bond they could not truly work together as
a team.

Had Scully herself not breached those same lines as she wrote
about him in her journal? That one-sided conversation with her
partner often haunted her.

During the cancer treatment, she truly believed she would die and
those words were for him alone after her death. They were a
catharsis for her and she hoped a balm for him. An apology for
dying and leaving him alone once more. It was something her
family, her brother, could never comprehend. Why wasn't Mulder by
her side throughout her illness? Why was he off searching for his
little green monsters, discarding Scully when she was of no need
and disregarding her when she was of no use? Bill could never
comprehend that Mulder was not one to sit idly by and hold her
hand. He was out there, fighting for her life in the only way he
knew how. And Scully knew that and loved him for it. He had read
her words of understanding, that she felt far closer to him in
those moments when he was not with her, searching not for him, but
for her.

She had been embarrassed that he'd read her journal, to know her
heart so deeply. But he held her in his arms and allowed those
despairing words to pass. She had chosen life, life with him as
her partner, as her friend. No more, no less. They were partners.
As trite as it seemed in her mind, they were lovers of the souls
and minds and hearts.

Scully had seen marriages ruined in part because the emotional
bonds between FBI partners of even the same sex was so great, it
left wives feeling outcast. Yet such bonds were rarely anything
other than strongly heterosexual. How many marriages could
truthfully boast such power, such love? How many husbands and
wives would trust each other with their very lives? How often
would they continue to risk themselves for their partner in the
face of an enemy so overwhelming that survival was not a
consideration?

How many would literally travel to the ends of the earth to save
each other? And was it not consistent with such bonding that
partners of the opposite sex might take shelter in one another's
arms for a moment or two, reaching out to each other's compassion
and friendship in a very human need to touch and be touched?
Perhaps the need would be less so if both were married. Each could
return home at night and take comfort in the arms of their
respective loved ones. But neither of them had that recourse.

And was it not possible then, in a moment of great need, that such
comfort might momentarily cross an almost invisible line from
affection to passion? Scully had often found herself wondering
what might have happened had that bee not stung her. And as the
thoughts formed, she pushed them away, intellectualising that it
was a moment of weakness. Their affection could never debase that
pure love with the rough bodily needs of sex. That was a one way
road to destroying everything they had worked so hard to build.
That moment had fortunately past.

All these practiced thoughts and feeling passed her in a second.
She was familiar with them, for they were the mortar cementing the
protective wall that separated her and bound her to Mulder.


Mulder used his quirky sense of humor to hide the terrifying
frustration of the previous night. He told the story to her as a
comedy of errors until the fiasco had them both laughing. "Jeez
Scully, next time can you buy ski pants instead of a chastity
belt?"

She chuckled "There are zips at the side, you didn't need to
unbuckle."

"Now you tell me!" He went on to describe the following minutes as
if it were the funniest joke in the world, finishing off with the
punch line "Then the damned water ran out!"

Scully knew Mulder's humor covered his terror. She could still
feel the appalling cold in her bones and through the haze, the
feeling of his warm flesh against hers.

He leered at her and quipped "Ah, but it rained sleeping bags -
well eiderdowns anyway. D'ya think that's covered in the manual on
protocol? "

Scully blushed and he was almost sorry he'd told her. But Mulder
knew she would figure it out. Better for it to be discarded in the
vein of humor rather than hidden like an awkward secret. "Look,
you might want to check yourself out for other wounds. I felt a
few contusions and some pretty nasty bumps here and there. And I
didn't find that laceration until a few hours ago, so it may not
heal all that fast."

Scully kept her face averted as she sipped the now cool chocolate.

Mulder was somewhat surprised at her sensitivity "Scully," he said
gently, careful in his choice of words now. He might delight in
teasing her, trying to shock her out of her rigid professionalism,
but he had not meant to genuinely embarrass her, at least not this
time. He'd never given a second thought to the necessary catheter
she'd put in him after she'd shot and induced an artificial coma
in him some years back. "You were literally freezing to death. I
was in no position to figure out how to reset the hot water
system. We had no dry clothes and....Well, I'm not one for sexist
remarks, but last night I was damned glad my partner wasn't a
man."

Scully stopped him with a small smile, looked up and replied
"Thank you."

"Yeah, well, when you're done," he replied, looking down at his
own body, "You might want to check me over for more frost bite.
Comes from sleeping with a popsicle."

Scully closed and opened her eyes slowly and grinned at his
irreverence. Then she yawned uncontrollably.

"Look, get some rest while I try and figure out breakfast."

Scully unfurled her legs then frowned in distaste "Mulder it's wet
in here. I'm not sure why but.."

He pulled the covers back and grimaced at the sticky blood.

Scully gasped and felt her cheeks redden. For a moment, adolescent
problems of waking with unexpected menses came flooding back. But
there was too much blood for that.

"Ah hell...." Mulder groaned, sick with guilt once more. "Scully
I'm sorry, I had no idea it was that bad." He chewed his lower lip
and looked at her. He'd seen dark patches but hadn't figured the
extent. No wonder she was so pale!

Scully reached behind her leg, when her hand came back, there were
streaks of blood.

"I think I've broke a couple of the butterfly's."

Mulder looked around then opened the footlocker. He pulled out a
set of bedclothes.

"Wait Mulder, I better get this fixed up first. Can you..." she
looked at him with pleading eyes and motioned for him to wait in
the kitchen.

"Scully, you're going to have to let me do it, you'll never reach
there."

He grimaced as she closed her eyes. Scully was an intensely
private person and this further indignity was not sitting well.
Before she could argue the point he grabbed the bottle of ethanol
and some swabs.

"I probably got some cream under them. I'll clean it and they
should stick better. Roll over."

She hesitated then did as he told her. She had to take her pants
down and she had no underwear on. But Mulder had put the trousers
on her in the first place. Hell, why did she have to be cut there
of all places?

Scully clutched at her emotional walls and stoically pulled the
elastic from her waist. She kept the eiderdown covering her hips.
When she rolled over she gratefully felt Mulder pulling the quilts
further around her, covering as much of her legs and buttocks as
possible.

"Curl up some more, I can't see." Scully pulled her legs towards
her chest, hoping that the blush in her face did not extend to any
other parts of her body.

"It's not too bad, just two of them over the widest point. I'll
put four this time."

He concentrated on cleaning the area with ethanol, trying not to
drop any of the fiery liquid into her wound, but it was
unavoidable. She flinched and he put his hand on her hip in mute
apology.

This is what friends are for. This is what friends are for. This
is what friends are for, Scully mantra'd to herself over and over.

Presently he was finished. He handed her another set of sweat
pants and went into the bathroom to wash. By the time he returned
Scully was up and stripping the bed.

"I'll do that."

"I'm fine Mulder."

"God dammit Scully, enough! You are not fine. You almost died last
night and you've lost blood. If you don't believe me, go take a
look at yourself in the mirror!"

She was surprised at his angry outburst, but her head started to
spin and she almost collapsed on the bed. Mulder swept her up in
his arms.

"Okay, you've bullied me, you win." but she smiled to take any
sting for her voice.

Mulder carried her to a lounge chair in front of the fire and sat
her gently down. He tossed her the clean comforter to warm
herself, then stripped the bed of bloody sheets and covers.
Fortunately a mattress protector had soaked up the blood before it
penetrated. Mulder looked around, then opened the door and threw
the bedding out into the snow. He'd go outside later and try to
find somewhere to put them. He made the bed again then lifted
Scully from the chair and carried her back. That she hardly
objected worried him. How much blood had she lost in the loch,
then in the shower? He shook his head, no point wondering now. She
was strong, the bleeding had stopped, a few good meals and a
couple of days rest and she'd be fine.

CHAPTER 15
LOCH MEADE NORTHERN ENGLAND
26th DECEMBER 1999

Mulder busied himself in the kitchen. He hated cooking, in fact he
really didn't have much time for food. Oh he appreciated fine
cuisine, so long as someone else prepared it. But his stomach was
howling in protest and he realised he had not eaten in 24 hours.
And Scully needed food, proper food, not horse chaff and celery
sticks.

After a time he returned the main cabin with a tray. Scully's eyes
were closed but she smiled when he sat on the edge of the bed.

"Hey, Scully, how about Christmas dinner...a little late but..."

"Oh Mulder, wow!"

Dale had stocked the cabin with an assortment of tinned gourmet
foods, from rich smoked hams to luxurious brandy fruitcakes, pates
and exotic fruits. They gorged themselves, laughing and giggling
like children, celebrating a rare moment of pleasure in simply
being alive. But as Mulder moved the remains of their unusual
breakfast from the bed, he could see Scully's hooded eyes.

"We're stranded until this blizzard passes, probably a couple of
days. Get some rest and I'll check out a few things, try and get
the power on."

Scully nodded. She really wanted a bath to remove the blood from
her body and stickiness from her hair, but Mulder was right. No
reason not to rest. She yawned and eased back under the eiderdown
covers.

Mulder glanced at her once before he zipped his jacket and pulled
the hood around his face. He opened the door into a whirlwind of
white and cold knifing into his face. The blizzard was in full
force now and he didn't want to be outside too long. He could make
out the gray shapes of trees, but couldn't see what he was looking
for until he rounded the second corner of the hut. There it was,
just a few paces away. The snow flurries cleared for a few moments
and he trudged through the drifts to the shed. This time he left
his gloves on to lift the metal latch. He glanced back once,
making certain he had a good bearing on the cabin in case there
was a total white out on return.

Inside, the hut smelled vaguely oily. Mulder pulled back his
jacket hood and looked around. Yep, just as he figured, Dale had
two generators set up.

Assorted tools and fishing tackle, a few drums of fuel and snow
shovels were placed in a mathematically precisioned sense of
order. One side of the hut was stacked with cut timber, enough for
a couple of weeks, Mulder guessed. He didn't dare remove his
gloves and his right hand was next to useless. It took almost an
hour's fumbling to establish the primary generator and to get it
fueled up. He smiled as the starter button kicked the machine over
first try. Yep, there was a lot to be said for anal retentives.

The kitchen and bathroom pipes had seized that morning. He needed
to find the bore and get that working before heating the pipes.
Mulder pulled the hood over his face again.

The cold and damaged right hand slowed him considerably and it was
mid afternoon by the time he had everything functioning to his
satisfaction.

They had power, water, stacks of firewood and enough food to keep
them alive for a couple of weeks, if stuffed quail's eggs and
caviar could be considered 'survival food' he thought ruefully.
Mulder finally scuffed off the last of the snow from his boots and
hung his jacket over the rail for the last time. He was not going
outside again that day if he could help it.

Earlier, on one of his forays in the cabin, he'd climbed the
ladder to find a small office loft, complete with library and
computer. Maybe later he could start on his report while they
waited for the blizzard to pass. He just wished the computer were
connected to a phone line.

Mulder glanced across to check Scully. She had been fitful the
last time he looked, so he left a glass of water by the bed. It
remained untouched, but there was definitely more colour in her
cheeks.

His feet were icy cold and he realised, looking at them, that his
toes probably had a touch of frostbite. Mulder grabbed the
ointment from the headboard and idly wondered if he music would
disturb Scully. At different times, in different hotels they'd
shared, she had no trouble sleeping when he was ensconced on a
couch in front of a television, so he used the remote to turn it
on. A couple of CD's were already in, so he sat in one of the
armchairs and concentrated on his feet.

Scully floated in the soft world between being asleep and awake.
Her head still felt a little sore where she'd been hit, but the
cut on her leg gave no trouble at all, at least while there was no
weight on it. And she felt warm. After being so cold for so long,
she was at last warm. There seemed to be no point in moving.

Scully was not sure how much blood she had lost, but combined with
the hypothermia, her resulting listlessness was understandable.
There had been no reason to fight it, so she simply allowed
herself to relax and enjoy the comforting sounds of Mulder moving
about the cabin, knowing he would have everything in hand.

Then a low, rich voice penetrated her doze. Mulder must have found
a video, but no, the sound quality was too good. By the third
phrase she had identified the narrator, Sir Richard Burton, so she
allowed his strong, mellow voice to ease into her softly floating
mind.


'No-one would have believed, in the last years of the nineteenth
century, that human affairs were being watched from the timeless
worlds of space. No one could have dreamed we were being
scrutinised, as someone with a microscope studies creatures that
swarm and multiply in a drop of water. Few men even considered the
possibility of life on other planets and yet, across the gulf of
space, minds immeasurably superior to ours regarded this earth
with envious eyes and slowly but surely, they drew their plans
against us.'


A part of her wanted to sit up and groan....Good grief, couldn't
the man even find music that didn't feature malignant aliens? But
the strains of strings and synthesizer held her captivated and she
waited for Sir Richard to continue. Soon Scully found herself
wrapped into a beautifully rendered story.

After a time, she opened her eyes a fraction. Mulder sat in an
armchair at the foot of the bed, in front of the fire. His feet
were stretched out on the chair opposite, his head tossed back,
eyes closed as he listened to the story. Every now and then he
sipped from a mug.

Sir Richard's despairing narration faded into a wistful song,

'The summer sun is fading as the year grows
And darker days are drawing near
The winter winds will be much colder
Now you're not here.'

The haunting music tugged at her heart. She could see Mulder
watching her.

'I watched the birds fly south across the autumn sky
And one by one they disappear
I wish that I was flying with them
Now you're not here.'

Scully could see the intensity in his face, as haunted as the
words of the song

'Like the song through the trees you came to love me
Like a leaf on a breeze you blew away
Through autumn's golden gown we used to kick our way
You always loved this time of year
Those fallen leaves lie undisturbed now
'cause you're not here,
'cause you're not here,

"Fire," Sir Richard's voice continued "Suddenly leaped from house
to house..." the words washed over Scully as she watched her
partner's intense, passionate face. His eyes glistened and for one
terrible moment Scully thought he would cry. Her heart went out to
him and in a moment of supreme clarity Scully's walls crumbled and
she truly felt her partner's pain, felt his driving need to find
her, to find the truth.

Scully understood that in many ways she had become Samantha's
surrogate and when Scully herself had been taken, Mulder fell into
a world of despair. The boy had been unable to prevent Samantha's
abduction and the man, despite his resources, despite the battles
he had fought to reveal the truth, had been equally impotent to
save Scully. True, she had been returned but it had driven home
his helplessness and reinforced his drive to find his sister.

'A gentle rain falls softly on my weary eyes
As if to hide a lonely tear
My life will be forever altered
'cause you're not here
'cause you're not here.'

Sometimes Mulder's intensity disturbed her so much she had to turn
away. But this time, she felt almost felt guilty for having seen
into his heart perhaps a little too much. The music had broken
through her walls and she needed to patch them again. She needed
to be Doctor Agent Dana Scully before she could speak.

But the music kept battering her walls.

Scully moved restlessly on the bed. New words, this time. More
intense, sung by a powerful female vocalist.

"There must be something worth living for
There must be something worth trying for
Even some things worth dying for
And if one man can stand tall
There must be hope for us all
Somewhere in the spirit of man."

Sir Richard's wounded voice continued "Never before in the history
of the world had such a mass of human beings moved and suffered
together....It was the beginning of the rout of civilisation, of
the massacre of mankind."

Scully felt a shiver pass through her body, a foreboding......a
premonition. Her heart pounded. She played music to suit her mood,
not the other way around. This music was affecting her mood.

She shut her eyes and the last of the walls crumpled as her
memories took her back to a courtroom. Mulder was speaking to the
judge. Her family had been there moments before. Her mother,
supportive while Bill dissembled uncomfortably. Her brother could
not countenance her application to adopt Emily. He did not say so,
of course, but the Judge had read it. Scully could see it in his
eyes.

But Mulder's simple eloquence stunned her. His revelations had
knifed her, that he knew so much but tried to protect her from the
truth. Yet here he was now, prepared to let her feel the pain for
a greater purpose, for Scully herself. Her successful adoption of
Emily would steal her from the X-files. And she knew that Mulder's
trust and need for her was unique. Her partner, and all the
emotions that word entailed, would not give such feelings to
another so readily. Emily would take her from Mulder and he knew
it. Yet there he sat before the judge and spoke words that
enfolded her burdened heart. He would have done anything for her.
He would give her up in an instant and fought any man or anything
that took her from Emily, because his love for her exceeded his
own seemingly selfish needs. In his heart Mulder had not agreed
with her decision, but he would move heaven and earth to make her
happy. In that moment she knew she loved him. Not just as a
partner, or a friend, but something far greater and more intimate
than meager words could describe.

At that time her own needs and losses were too overwhelming for
any such recognition and she pushed him aside in her grief. Now
here she lay, in the darkness of a foreign land, realising the
truth.

But they were partners and it could not be. That they loved one
another added only a greater depth to that partnership. It was
enough.

It was enough.

Scully rolled over and sat up, trying to shake the mood.

"Hey." Mulder got up from the chair and sat on the edge of the
bed.

"Hey yourself." Scully replied as she sat up "What's playing?"

Mulder chuckled "War of the Worlds."

She groaned theatrically.

Mulder shrugged defensively, "It was in the machine when I turned
it on."

"What's with the H.G. Wells theme?" Scully asked.

"Wells, Conan Doyle, Verne, Scully they are all classic turn of
the century authors. Don't tell me you never read them as a kid."

"Sure, as a kid...but I never took them seriously."

Mulder just shook his head and smiled, "Ah Scully, after all this
time? After all we've seen? I'm thinking that when I retire I'll
write true stories couched in fiction, just like Wells and Sir
Arthur did."

"Mm...I dunno, Fox William Mulder...it just doesn't have quite the
same ring to it as Sir Arthur Conan Doyle." Scully couldn't help
smiling. Her mood had lightened with the recognition of her
feelings. They were friends and they loved one another as friends.
No more, no less. And the morose, haunted Mulder she had seen in
the chair a few minutes before had once again disappeared.


They spent the remainder of the afternoon going over the events of
he previous days. For once they both agreed on one point, that
someone was out to stifle any radiation checks.

"I'm beginning to think you're right, Mulder. I don't agree with
the direction of your theories regarding the bodies, but someone
is sure anxious not to have us check radiation levels."

Mulder concluded that the bounty hunter had been sent to tidy up
and lose ends.

"I preparation for what? The consortium is dead."

"The American chapter is dead. Old smoky isn't and neither is that
bounty hunter."

It wasn't too long before they found themselves standing firmly on
opposite points of view. But Scully was still tired and didn't
feel like countering his didactic arguments. After a particularly
long and convoluted diatribe, even for Mulder, Scully raised her
hand in an affirmative gesture.

"Whatever."

Mulder went to continue, but closed his jaw. Scully had done it
again. How could he argue with someone who agreed with him? She
verbally left him alone and floundering in the middle of his
theory.

"Mulder, I'm going to take a shower." And she pulled the covers
back and eased herself from the bed.

They spent the remainder of the evening emotionally a little
distant from one another. It was a common, almost comfortable
feeling, better, thought Scully than having other feelings intrude
on her psyche.

They ate more of the rich food, tempered with canned fruits.
Scully dozed, recovering from her ordeal and Mulder explored the
computer files. Dale kept copies of esoteric papers on everything
from invertebrate physiology to mathematical biology. Most were
not Mulder's first, or even third choice in reading matter, but
there was nothing else to do. He could not burn off energy with a
run, or swim so it was forminifera and zooplankton or nothing.

His acute intelligence and eidetic memory rummaged through the
information and stored it in his brain for future reference. Who
knows when he might need to know the biochemistry of a
radiolarian?

Around midnight the lights started to flicker. Mulder debated
refueling the generator then decided morning was soon enough. He
descended the loft and grabbing a spare eiderdown, settled in a
chair in front of the re-stoked fire.

An hour later he was restlessly trying to build the fire. The
chairs were uncomfortable, impossible to sleep in. He'd tried the
floor, but the hard boards were cold and there were no more
eiderdowns to act as a mattress. The temperature had dropped far
lower that the prior evening and the fire offered only localised
warmth. He was just about to don his boots to go start the
generator, when he heard Scully's hesitant voice.

"Mulder?"

"You okay Scully?" He touched her forehead and cheek, then reached
below the eiderdown to find her hands. They were cold. So very
cold. He frowned. The ambient temperature in the cabin was far too
low. It had been built as a summer fishing hut, not a midwinter
shelter from a raging blizzard.

"I...I'm just cold, are there any more blankets?"

Mulder frowned. He had one about his own shoulders and a fourth
lay piled in the corner of the shed, damp with blood. There were
no others. He removed the one from his back and spread it out over
Scully, but she looked at him and frowned.

"What about you?"

"I'll be fine, I'll just put a coat on." He replied lightly.

"Mulder, don't be stupid, you'll freeze to death. This is not a
come on but would you please just get into the bed?"

"Scully, I'm shocked, you're suggesting we break FBI protocol?"

Scully sighed "We're not supposed to be consorting in the same
room on assignment, either, but I think a blizzard rates an
exception."

"I dunno if I can trust you Scully, you sure you don't want my
body?"

"Mulder, the only thing I want from your body is heat."

She nearly bit her tongue off when she realised what he could do
with that. Surprisingly, he did not make the expected ribald come
back.

Mulder did not remove any of his clothes as he climbed under the
covers. He tentatively moved close to Scully until he felt a small
convulsive shiver from her. That was it. He moved to encircle her
with his arms and held her to him.

Scully made no physical move to recognise his action but as they
dozed, he heard a tiny "Thank you."

"That's okay but if you try an take advantage of me, I'll report
you to Skinner.'

He couldn't see her smile, but he could feel its warmth.


The following morning the blizzard seemed to have worsened rather
than abated. Dana Scully woke slowly in dreamy haze. She had not
felt so contented in a long time. Moving her head she felt the
slight scrape of an unshaven face next to hers. She almost jumped,
them remembered Mulder getting into bed during the night. In that
gray world between wake and sleep, Doctor Agent Scully had not yet
appeared, allowing Dana to enjoy the unfamiliar closeness of a
man, a familiar and much beloved man in her bed. He mumbled and
reflexively moved. One leg was linked amongst hers. This casual
unexpected intimacy evoked a stronger reaction in her than the
closeness of his face. But then she focussed on the slightly
roughed hand on her bare stomach where her sweater and pants had
separated during the night. Dana smelled his clean maleness. It
was simply far too nice to move, so she let herself explore his
face. Relaxed and unlined, it seemed boyish in its innocence,
except for the dark three day stubble. Dana realised he'd had no
time to shave Christmas morning and that the fully bearded Dale
would have had no need of razors. The rough shadow enhanced his
masculinity and his lips pouted more than normal as he mumbled
something. In an overture to wakening, he slid his hand up from
the soft flesh of Dana's stomach to her right breast, gently
fondling, spreading warmth to places she wished to ignore.

Shaking her senses fully awake, she quickly closed here eyes,
feigning sleep. Even the unflappable Agent Scully could not let
those limpid chameleon eyes open only inches from hers, while
their legs entwined, one arm nestled in her hair and the other
hand cupped her breast and oh God help me she thought as his thumb
gently, mindlessly massaged her hardening nipple.

Mulder moaned softly as he felt soft, warm flesh in his hand...a
dream, familiar, evoking the normal early morning response in his
male body. Warm flesh, real...the smell of a woman, one woman so
familiar, senses heightened. A hardened nipple...Mulder's entire
body stiffened and he sucked his breath in quickly, his brown eyes
snapped open and whirled to green, awake and staring...

...Oooh boy this was not good! Christ it was wonderful....aaahh
fucking hell!

He bit his lower lip as he became aware of exactly what his hand
touched. Oh shit. No, nope, that wasn't touching, it was fondling,
although Scully would couch it in different terms. Oh shit, oh
shit!

Mulder risked a panicked glance at his partner's eyes. His
nostrils flared and he breathed out in relief. If he could just
extricate himself and get to the bathroom before she woke, he'd be
fine. He swallowed hard and consciously willed himself to move
from this all too enticing embrace. He grimaced as he lifted his
hand from her flesh and slid his other arm out from beneath her
copper hair. He lifted one of her legs with his ankle in order to
extract his other leg. By this time he was feeling far more
pressure than his bladder could possibly assert. But if he could
just relieve that, he figured he'd be okay.

Mulder slowly slid from the bed, his partner's gentle waking moans
goading him to the bathroom with hastened steps. Christ, removing
himself from that embrace had been one of the more difficult
things he'd had to do in life. No...oh no, no, no, no, no, keep
well away from that Mulder!

Scully had been ready to heave her partner off her the moment he
was fully awake. But then she felt his entire body stiffen and
heard his sudden intake of breath. He was as genuinely shocked as
she. Gratefully, regrettfully.... no gratefully! she felt him
extricate himself. Scully pretended to wake as he scuttled to the
bathroom.

"Morning." He smiled as came out a few minutes later and saw
Scully's eyes flutter open. He knew his lose pants could not hide
anything, so he quickly turned his back and moved aside the
curtains at the window. Glancing back he watched his
partner....his partner...yeah, just keep repeating that term and
he'd be fine...his partner stretched and yawned like a cat with
burnished copper mussing her face. Mulder turned away quickly.
Relieving his bladder had only done half the job, he did not need
to be reminded that he'd deliberately walked away from the
contents of that bed only moments before. Jesus he was only a man,
not a fucking eunuch.

"Hell, that blizzard's worse, if anything." he said, peering out
at a world of driving white.

"I wonder how long it will last?" Scully replied.

Mulder shook his head "They get them like this sometimes, two,
three, even four days long. My guess is another day at least. How
you feeling?" He heard the bathroom door closing.

"Mulder, do you think you could ever learn to put down the toilet
seat?" she raised her voice.

"Why, Agent Scully? I never complain when you don't leave it up."

Scully found herself smiling at what, after all, was a fair
retort.


Scully banished Mulder to the shed to get the generator working,
while she rummaged around to find the ingredients for a cooked
breakfast. Presently he returned to smell baking muffins and the
sizzling of ham steaks.

"Marry me Scully!"

"I thought you weren't going to ask again."

"Yeah, well I didn't know you could cook."

Scully looked at him strangely "I've cooked for you before."

"No you haven't."

"Yes I have, plenty of times, whenever you've been over we've...."

"Had pizza or Chinese or some other ethnically correct takeaway."

"That couldn't be right." Scully frowned in disbelief, trying to
recall.

"Hey, I'm not complaining, you're takeaway's better than mine."

Scully kept frowning as she set out some plates. She'd never
cooked him a meal? Not once in six, almost seven years? They had
shared, hundreds, if not thousands of meals together, but she had
never cooked for him? Well why would she have? It's not like she
ever invited him to dinner. "Well Mulder, if you're a good boy
I'll cook you dinner tonight as well."

"What do I have to be good at?" He leered at her.

Scully smiled, the slight tension of the day before had evaporated
into their usual banter.


They spent the morning doing simple housekeeping. Scully still
tired quickly. The lines and shadows under her eyes were less
noticeable than the day before and her leg hurt much less when she
stood. Surprisingly, she suffered only minor frostbite on her toes
and parts of her face.

She allowed Mulder to change her dressing and in turn checked his
hands and feet. He had indeed some frostbite on his toes, but like
his hands, it would heal within a week. The torn skin was another
matter. Although not infected, Scully knew it would be extremely
sore.

With nothing else to do, they spent the day exploring Dale's small
library and computer files. Neither thought it unusual to be
content in their deep discussion of cellular metabolism, for
biology was a subject that held Scully in thrall. Mulder in his
skepticism of the plausible, still absorbed real science like a
sponge. His keen mind and ready wit once again reminding his
partner why she much preferred to spend a day like this with
Mulder, than going on some mindless date. It may not, she thought,
be much of a life to anyone else. And to be sure there were times
when she rebelled and part of her wished for, even desperately
craved more. But all in all she counted herself lucky. She had
joined the FBI to broaden her knowledge, to excel. By their very
nature the X-files would never allow her to excel in career
politics, but they challenged her like nothing she could have
imagined. And Mulder challenged both her intellect and her spirit,
forcing her to see the world in a way she never dreamed. He had
once said she made him a whole person. But Scully admitted to
herself that Mulder also made her whole. Without him the world
would simply be so much drabber.

Mind you, a little drabness once in a while wouldn't go astray.

Over dinner their talk turned from the mechanisms of cell division
to Dolly, the cloned sheep.

"You know the key to success at the Roslin Institute seems to have
been that Wilmut starved the mammary cells for five days before
extracting their nuclei. This maneuver "froze" the cells in a
quiescent phase of their division cycle. It may have made their
chromosomes more susceptible to being reprogrammed to initiate the
growth of a new organism after the nuclei were transferred into an
egg."

Suddenly, Scully looked up from her plate to see Mulder chuckling.

"What's so funny?"

"Nothing." He waved his hand in dismissal.

"No, really, Mulder, what are you laughing at?"

"I'm impressed that after three bottles of wine and you can still
focus on chromosomes."

"I haven't really drunk two bottles of wine, have I?" Scully
frowned and looked at her glass. They'd opened the first bottle
mid afternoon and Mulder drank far less than she. Her light
headiness told her it must be so. "Y'know, I think this is the
first time I've ever shared a wine with you Mulder."

"But not the first time you thought you had."

Scully felt her stomach lurch and looked at him oddly. Now where
had that come from? Had he really sat on it for two years, or had
it had just bubbled to the surface now, after a few wines? But he
also mentioned it on the plane.

"I'm curious Scully, have you always had a soft spot for men named
Ed?" Mulder shook his head. He had not said that, had he?

Scully frowned. Boy where was he dredging this up from? Mulder
rarely drank, maybe the wine had been a mistake.

Mulder stood quickly to clear the plates. "I'm sorry, that...that
was uncalled for. Ed Jerse had nothing to do with me."

"That's right Mulder, he didn't." Ed Jerse had been her act of
rebellion, her look outside herself, at what her life might have
been, at her mortality. It had been her hold on the moment,
indelibly engraved on her back as a permanent reminder.

Scully knew the obvious conclusion to anyone reading the police
reports was that she'd slept with Jerse. Scully knew it had shaken
her partner, but Mulder had no right to make comment or pass
judgment, so she perversely refused to respond to his less than
subtle remarks. The truth was hers alone, one small part of her
life kept tucked away from him.

Yet a part of her felt guilt for neither confirming nor denying
his conclusions. Less than a week passed before Mulder stood by
her side, as confused as ever, refusing to accept that she had
terminal cancer.

Everything had changed after that. Scully had taken what she saw
as her directionless life tagging on to his coat tales and placed
the mantle of Mulder's cause on her own back. Events had since
fused them into an inseparable team with one heart and one goal,
to find the truth.

Eddie Van Blundht was an entirely different matter, so, in vino
veritas she replied "And it had nothing to do with Eddie Blundht."

Mulder did not wish to face this conversation "Look, I'm sorry I
even mentioned it. Really, just forget it, I'm a lousy drunk."

They were silent while the table was cleaned up, but as they sat
in front of the fire, having decided the dishes could wait till
morning, Scully looked into her wine glass and said "No, Mulder,
it wasn't about Eddie Van Blundht. It was about us. And because of
that, because of our friendship, you have every right to know.
It's just that I found it hard to explain to myself, so you're
going to have to let me say this my way. I'm going to fumble a bit
here, so bear with me."

Scully paused then took another drink to fortify herself. Mulder
stayed silent while his emotions held their collective breath.

"I admit to feeling more than a little ashamed of my actions, or
apparent lack of...resistance...but I put that down partially to
extreme surprise." Scully took a deep breath and began "To be
honest, Mulder I loathed the incident so much in part because
it...it revealed in me a frightening lack of judgment.

"You were completely right in questioning my observation, or lack
of, and I felt embarrassed and ashamed of that more than anything.
I mean it was not the first time I've been in a situation where
someone else masqueraded as you. When the bounty hunter kidnapped
me, I thought it was you until the phone rang and I heard your
voice and I...I knew the man standing in my room was someone else.
My God Mulder he acted exactly like you! I can only put my
suspicions at that time down to a heightened sensitivity and fear
of being a target. I knew something wasn't right.

"But with Eddie, it was different. It was non-aggressive, in fact,
the opposite. When I saw you holding that ice pack to the back of
your head...it wasn't... I mean I've thought about it a hundred
times. I've gone over every minute in my mind, trying to
understand how I was so easily duped. His head wound, although
minor, elicited a natural sympathetic reaction in me. Suspicion
never came into it because I never felt threatened.

"We caught the next flight back after you, I mean he, had me drive
to the airport because he said he had a pounding headache from the
blow. I was preoccupied on the flight. The data on his father's
autopsy was absolutely fascinating and I was finishing up my
addendum to your report. He was working on your lap top, I assumed
finishing your report...although I have no idea how he got in
without your password. I don't think we exchanged more than half a
dozen words the whole time."

"But what about in my office?"

"We didn't go to your office. Skinner wanted to see us straight
away and I asked if you, I mean he..." Scully waved her hand in
frustration but Mulder only nodded for her to go on.

"I asked if the report was finished so I could add mine. Skinner
wanted it cleared by the weekend and it was already 5.30pm. He
nodded and winced, so I said I'd print it out while he went to the
bathroom to freshen up before seeing Skinner.

"We didn't say much in Skinner's office. Eddie was adamant that he
had not murdered his father, but seemed resigned to the charges of
rape. I supported the death by natural causes based on my autopsy.
Even when Skinner picked up the spelling error in FBI..."

"He misspelled Federal Bureau of Investigation?"

"Twice..."

Mulder chuckled, "I bet Skinner loved that!"

"We....ell, I wouldn't put it in quite those terms, but we both
knew you, he, had been knocked pretty hard a few hours before, so
it was not something to get picky about. I guess it must have been
about 7.00pm when I left him at the entrance to your office. I
don't recall him going inside, but I vaguely remember telling him
I was going to Quantico the next day. And that was it.

"When he came over that night I was surprised, but..." her voice
trailed off.

"Given that you were in a situation where it was a one to one
conversation..." Mulder sounded bemused.

"That's the whole point," Scully interrupted, still annoyed "It
was the perfect set up because it seemed you had deliberately left
the aliens and mutants and government conspiracies at home. He
came there to relate to me as a person. He asked me a simple
enough thing, about where my life was now versus my expectations
and he got me talking. And, I admit it, my ego responded.

"Mulder you must realise that we treat people we have known for
years on the basis of an a priori relationship. At the same time,
people married for twenty, thirty years will be surprised one day
by what their partner does or says, without being suspicious that
their statements or actions belie something more sinister. I mean
it wasn't the first time we'd shared a late night discussion.
Granted it was unexpected. It was not as if we were involved in
some highly complicated Government agenda and needed to talk it
through. It was...well, just the opposite. For the first time that
I've known you, you...I mean he portrayed you as having another
side to you." Scully paused, but she wanted to get it out now,
quickly, in order for him to understand that it was not something
he lacked.

"Mulder, every relationship we have with another human being
fulfills some need in us. I don't for a minute believe that the
respective partners in even the best marriages can meet the
absolute requirements of the other person. As you of all people
well know, that, in part, is the way in which a society functions.
Each person brings different elements that create a tapestry of
human relationships."

"And what part did Eddie bring?" he asked quietly. But Scully
heard the unspoken words, what part did Eddie bring that allowed
him into her personal space so much further than Mulder had ever
been allowed?

"Mulder, you have to understand that it was not an aspect of you
that I was looking for, or...or ever felt was lacking. It was a
new side of you, a totally unexpected dimension that..." Scully
was reluctant to continue as this verged on her personal
life...then she signed. What personal life?

"Mulder the thing that makes me so angry about Eddie Blunht was
his presumption to built upon an established relationship, one
that he neither contributed to nor deserved, and, and used that
established relationship to springboard it to another, artificial
level. Certainly that was not the case with the five women whom he
impregnated, he simply carried on established patterns. But it was
the case with Amanda Nellinger."

"And with you."

"And with me. He picked up on our close working relationship and
he attempted to use that to further his own desires. I find that,
that, twisted kind of voyuerism...no, no, that's not the right
word. I don't know what the right word is this case. But I don't
think I would have felt more personally...violated if it had have
been outright rape. At least I could ascribe that to an act of
violence."

Mulder saw her shiver at the memory. "And yet at the time, you
responded favorably."

"Mulder," Scully replied angrily, "I thought it was you but I
really did not have the time to respond, let alone favorably. I
was very surprised, taken back in fact. And when I think about it,
when I admit it to myself, Eddie Van Bluhnt should never have
needed to stoop to such tactics because as much as I am repulsed
by and despise him, I concede that he was charming and had become
an expert at playing on the inherent expectations and...and
perhaps needs of other people."

"You mean you don't find the X-files fulfilling?" he quipped.

"Mulder, my needs are no different to yours or anybody else's. I
lose sight of that at times because I spend most of my life
without them. By choice, I might add. I'm not blaming you or
anyone for that, but it's just that when it's coming from someone
I respect and trust and care for...and with a head full of
wine...at that moment in time, under those circumstances, it
appeared that you had those needs. Yes I was surprised, shocked
even, but I don't think I would have denied you simply because of
who you are and what we are to each other. Look, I...I don't
honestly know...he hadn't actually done anything when you burst
in. Another five seconds I probably would have pushed him off me
and sent him packing to sleep it off."

Mulder had only seen Blundht's head from behind, and it sure
looked like they had started...something. But he also admitted
that it had been so fast and he had been so stunned, that he
couldn't be sure. The investigator in him noticed Scully's hair
was not disheveled, nor her lipstick smeared. The genuine
repugnance and the momentary look of self loathing he'd seen in
her eyes were enough to convince him that although Scully had been
disgusted, she had been physically untouched by the whole thing.
But he was glad he now knew...although she had said she *might*
have sent him packing, not *would*... He sighed, a great deal had
passed between them since then. Mulder scraped at the fire and
said "I forget to tell you before we left. They let Eddie out on
good behavior - conditional on him...."

"Are you trying to..." but she saw the glint of humor in his eyes,
picked up a pillow and threw it at him.


His slight groan woke her, moments later she felt him get up from
the bed. Scully went to speak, but her mouth was dry. Frowning,
she opened her eyes and watched his white tee shirted form move
from the side of the bed, and, silhouetted by the fire, walk past
to the bathroom. Her eyes widened and her eyebrows lifted...again?
But then her eyebrows dropped into a frown at the response from
her own body. Warmth flooded from the bottom of her belly upwards.
She was grateful that no one could possibly see her as the heat
brushed into her face and across her cheeks. If it had been anyone
but Mulder, she might have felt a vague repugnance for the large,
horizontal bulge in his black satin shorts. The worst part was
when he pushed down on the bulge with his hand, seemingly to
flatten it against his groin. Nope, that was not the worst part,
Scully decided, the worst part, the part that elicited this
unwanted response in her body, was when he let out a little groan
as he did it.

Oh for goodness sake c'mon Doctor Scully! She chastised herself. A
man's erection was not automatically an invitation to his bed.

But Scully could not shake the silhouette from her mind as she
watched him pad softly into the bathroom. He closed the door but
did not latch it, the habits of a solitary man living alone. The
door swung open soundlessly, his back must have been to it.
Sheesh, she of all people knew the first thing that wakes in a man
ain't his brain. And combined with a full bladder...

Scully sighed deeply. This was totally out of context, like Eddie
damned Van Blundht. But the sight of it replayed in negative
behind her closed eyes. The harder she squeezed her eyes shut, the
more the image contrasted and burned into her memory.

Annoyed, Scully lay waiting in the dark for him to return. No
matter how she rationalised it, this was by no means like dancing
with him. He had been asleep with her in bed. Together. This was
an entirely different thing. The noise of the blizzard outside
softened to a low hum. Maybe today they could get out of here.

How long did it take to pee? She consciously listened to sounds
vindicating her theory that he simply needed to relieve himself,
until she realised the double meaning. She glanced up and noticed
the door had swung right open now, although he was invisible at
that angle. C'mon Mulder, nobody took that long to pee. Just
before going to bed, he'd spent about an hour in the bathroom with
a fist full of magazines, so it wasn't that.

The wind dropped away entirely for a moment and she now
consciously tried not to listen to anything that might hint at
what he was doing. Never having tried not to listen to something
before, every creak and noise rang at about 400 decibels. Her own
breathing came in deep pants as she kept inhaling a breathe and
holding it, worried she would hear him, worried he would hear her
and know she was listening.

She was not listening!

She was not thinking!

She willed her iron self control to come into effect until she
heard a soft groan from the bathroom. Grow up Dana! I'm not
hearing anything, it's just the wind. It might have the identical
timbre to his voice, but it was just the wind.

Suddenly, completely unbidden, came a graphic visualisation of
exactly what he was doing. Scully had managed to suppress such
visions before. Even when they shared adjoining hotel rooms and
she heard snatches of his adult channel viewing, she'd dismissed
it as a typical Mulder self indulgence, knowing that it was mostly
designed to keep the nightmares at bay. What form that stress
management took had never before displayed itself to her
imagination in full living colour.

Not until now.

Maybe it was because this time it was live, well at least a live
repetitive image behind her eyeballs, and came complete with
sound?

Waves of heat spanned south from her stomach, spreading through
her thighs. Angry beyond all reason at the unbidden images and her
body's betrayal Scully wanted to toss the stifling bedcovers to
the floor. But he might hear.

So what if he does? I'm not doing anything wrong! Scully was
seriously pissed off now. He had no right to make her body feel
like this. She was very clear about that distinction. It was her
body feeling like this, not her! Then she heard him groan again,
only it was more of a moan and her thighs moistened of their own
accord and images of his hand pushing down on himself as he walked
by...

Rationalise.

Rationalise!

His hand movement was an automatic gesture, like scratching.

He watched skin flicks, he savored porn magazines...what for?
Intellectually she knew that Mulder chose such diversions rather
than involve himself in real liaisons. He might ogle, even flirt,
with every pretty woman he came into contact with. Sometimes he
acted like a hormonal adolescent, panting over the Bambi's and
Detective Whites of the world. But Scully knew he was basically
harmless. His porn tastes, at least the ones she'd inadvertently
come across, though inventive were pretty much mainstream, no
seriously twisted kinks. He needed to relieve himself of stress,
to wake after nightmares and watch something mindlessly
fundamental. So whatever he was doing in that bathroom (unbidden
image) - Scully grimaced and clamped self control over her mind's
eye again - it was no different to what he must do at home and in
a hundred hotel rooms (unbidden image again, various backgrounds).
No doubt he'd come across a magazine in Forrester's collection and
had taken it in there that afternoon. He would not have been
embarrassed if she'd seen it, after all, this was Forrester's
lodge. Even so Mulder had never hidden them from Scully before.

Why was that?

Oh yeah, something about friendship.

But Jesus there are some things even friends didn't need to know
about! So he got up and went into the bathroom instead of doing it
in bed next to her.

C'mon Dana, he would never have done that! Mulder would never
belittle her like that.

So what does she think he was doing now? Wasn't it belittling?

No!

Goddamit he's a normal healthy man who's woken up with a hard on.
It would have been compounded by sleeping next to a woman, someone
whom he deeply cared for, someone whom he had once reached to
kiss, except for that bee (she'd never been able to eat honey
since), someone whom she knew he loved, as a friend... Goddammit!

It was just a response, hormonal, just like her response now. What
was he supposed to do, take it outside in the blizzard? Ignore it
until morning when it would be impossible to hide from her? Jesus
he'd never flaunted it. Over the years when their situation had
made in impossible to hide, Doctor Scully made damned certain she
ignored it. No pretence, no snicker, no 'Hey what's in the pocket,
partner?', just plain old ignored it, like morning halitosis or
flatulence.

Jesus, why did they have to be on top of each other so much? They
spent more time sharing hotels and tents and...and..cabins for
God's sake than people who shared apartments! If the damned FBI
budget wasn't so miserly when it came to accommodation it might
make following their protocol's a little easier. This was no
different to any other time, Scully rationalised. It was very
clear he did the right, the natural thing. He's
simply...scratching the itch. Like brushing his teeth to get rid
of morning breath. It didn't mean he really wanted to sleep...no,
no, inappropriate term...have sex with her, he was probably
staring at the centerfold right now.

She kicked off the covers, it was impossible to breathe! She lay
in the dark, burning in the frigid air. The wind dropped and died
completely and she heard a long, low, soft moan punctuated by the
whisper of her name. Again, ever so softly, like in a dream
"Scullyyyy..."

Oh God this is not happening!

"Ahhhh...Sculleee!" So soft, like a lover's whisper, it would have
been impossible to hear if the wind had not suddenly dropped
altogether, if the door had stayed closed, if she had stayed
asleep. But as he let out a last shuddering sigh, Scully could
only focus on the fact that he had called her name.

Wake up Dana!

She mentally slapped herself. How many times had she woken up wet
from a dream - a dream that featured her partner as they key
perpetrator?

Okay, she managed to forget them, deliberately, but what about the

night he'd taught her to play baseball? Mm, Dana, what about that,
huh? The feel of his body pressed to hers, the swing of his hips
moving gently against hers. The unavoidable feel of his maleness
pressed softly against her back.

She told herself it was just the thickness of his trouser's
zipper, but her body knew better. It was by no means even a half
mast erection, but it was...well...it was...there. And since then
when she felt his hand pressed to her lower back, her body
remembered the night they'd played baseball.

Jesus, she now had to avoid the sports section in Department
Store's because the smell of horsehide was enough to wet her.
Doctor Scully M.D. could not sustain such unwanted, unwarranted
distractions.

She strongly resented those dreams and allusions for they intruded
on her safe perception of their relationship. The day after the
baseball incident she'd been restless and snappy, especially with
him. They could ill afford to have that in their work together, it
was adolescent behavior at best.

Oh hell, he's coming out of he bathroom.

Scully pretended sleep, slow breathing, quick - eyes closed. But
she could smell him leaning over her, smell his muskiness. Scully
let out an involuntary shiver, but didn't flinch when he tucked
her wayward hair behind her ear. His hand brushed against her
cheek and she felt the eiderdown lifted and tucked around her chin
tenderly. His hand brushed her cheek once more. She could feel him
standing over her, looking at her, for what seemed like hours.

How long had he stood over her Christmas Eve?

Scully finally relaxed when she felt him getting into bed. His
hand reached across to touch her, but she would not flinch, could
not flinch in case he realised she as awake. She felt like a
rabbit cornered by a fox. Scully mentally groaned and stayed wide
awake until the dawn light finally...

Clomp!

Scully's eyes shot open, her heart thumping wildly. She sat bolt
upright in the bed and stared at the cinders climbing into the
chimney. The huge log Mulder had stood upright in the fire the
previous evening had burned through and finally fallen over. It
was fully daylight now. Scully realised her bladder was bursting
so she pulled back the covers and went to the bathroom. The door
was closed. Scully opened it and closed it behind her, her desire
to take the pressure off her bladder so great, she did not latch
it. The door stayed closed anyway. Scully sat on the toilet then
suddenly froze, getting up swiftly and looking at the toilet seat.

It had been down.

Scully sat there for a very long time, weighing the evidence.

When she was finished she left the bathroom and tested the door
again. No matter what angle she closed it, how many inches gap
remained, it neither swung open or closed.

Scully stared at Mulder, frowning. He was waking up.

"Mmm...what's the weather like, still blizzarding?" He leaped out
of bed in his usual long legged slightly hyperactive manner.

What did she mean, 'usual', how many nights had they shared a room
or a bed that she was accustomed to that?

What was he doing with black sweats on? He had gone to bed in
black sweats. But she saw him get out of bed earlier in black
shorts and white t. shirt. Mulder had complained that Forrester
owned no shorts. Mulder's own gray short were still hanging on the
bathroom rail.

The evidence was conclusive.

She had been dreaming.

Scully turned her back and sighed loudly.

"Hey, you okay?" He touched her on the shoulder.

"I'm fine Mulder ...I'm just...fine!" and she gave him a vacuous
smile.

It had been a dream.

It had been her dream, absolutely nothing to do with him.

It was her problem and she could easily deal with it by ignoring
it.

He looked at her in confusion, jiggling from one foot to the
other, his hands in his pockets holding the front part of his
trousers away from his body.

"Really, I'm great. Just a bit restless, that's all." Just a bit
"Why are you bouncing around? You look like you need a run."

He gave her a 'yeah, right' look and pulling his hands up, he
grabbed her shoulders, moved her out of the bathroom doorway,
entered and quickly closed and latched the door. Scully could hear
him relieving himself. It seemed to take forever but this time,
Scully laughed at herself. God why did men have to have so much
larger bladders than women?

It had been just a dream.


Scully had promised herself after the baseball incident that she
would never again take her frustration's out on him. She was so
relieved by the realisation it was just a dream, she decided to
rummage through the kitchen and make her partner a cooked
breakfast again.


"Hey, Scully, are you going to cook like this for me from now on?"

"Nope."

""Ah, c'mon why not?"

"Because whenever you're over, I'm too busy finishing up your
paperwork?"

Mulder was about to reply when he heard a soft thump thump in the
distance.

CHAPTER 16
LOCHMEADE CASTLE NORTHERN ENGLAND
28th DECEMBER 1999

Mulder dropped his fork and raced out of the cabin, grabbing a
jacket on the way. Scully followed after she'd donned her boots
and jacket. He turned to her with a big grin, then worked his way
through thigh deep snowdrifts, passed the trees and down to the
clearing. The storm had cleared leaving behind a dark slate cloud
cover. The loch was completely iced over and covered in a layer of
snow. Mulder thought he should check it out and signal the machine
the safest place to put down. Dale would be pissed enough about
the launch, but a drowned helicopter would put a really bad dent
in his insurance premiums.

He looked up and saw the pilot signaling him out of the way.
Mulder stepped well back, the pilot clearly knew exactly how much
space he had. Snow flew in every direction, sending violent
flurries over Mulder's retreating form.

By the time the machine landed, Scully had joined her partner on
the beach. Dale rushed from the machine and ran to Mulder. The two
men embraced, Dale's face lit in unadulterated joy. Then he turned
his attention to Scully, lifting her from her feet and swinging
her around. She squealed in almost school girlish delight.

"Ah my lovely Dana! You managed to save this poor bastard's life
once again!" Dale motioned to Mulder. "Good God old boy, you gave
us all heart failure! You do realise that, don't you! The whole
bloody village is out searching."

"What made you pick here?" Mulder asked.

"Well it was here or nothing old son, wasn't it?" Dale asked more
lightly, but the look in his eyes conveyed his feelings. "Sergeant
Bronin managed to catch up with a rather talkative chappie from
Lochabee. I suppose you came across the other two?" The three of
them made their way back to the cabin as the pilot radioed the
missing Agents had been located.

"Yeah, but I don't think you'll recover them. If my memory is
correct this part of the loch is pretty deep."

"Not to mention a complex bottom terrain, masses of underwater
caverns and what not. I gather this has something to do with no
launch."

"Maybe you can sue Lochabee for a new one.'

"I and the government will be pursuing a great deal more. This
blizzard has put a bit of a dampener on things, blacked out whole
parts of the northern country, but we've managed to piece a few
things together and they won't get away with platitudes and
promises this time. Look, leave your stuff in the cabin and I'll
get people down here to clean up later and bring your things back.
Get in the machine and we'll get you home to a nice cozy bed."

"We'll need a doctor." Mulder said.

Dale glanced over his shoulder to Scully. Her face showed signs of
frostbite and she was pale with dark shadows under her eyes.

"Mulder, I'm fine."

"I think he should take a look at that cut, it may still need to
be stitched."

Scully waved her hands resignedly as they got into the machine.


"Well, old chap," Dale stood by the library fire as Mulder
reclined in one of the armchairs, sipping tea. "If I'd been locked
in a cabin with the lovely Dana for three nights, I'm afraid my
sense of chivalry would have evaporated."

Mulder smiled grimly "Sorry about your launch."

"Don't give it a moment's thought...and don't dissemble, I've
known you far too long."

Mulder sighed. "She's my partner, Dale. Look, three days cooped up
in there was frustrating the hell out of me."

"I can well believe that if you still treated her like a partner!"
Mulder refused to bite "You know what I mean. So how did Bronin
catch two of them?

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but did you come across five?" Forrester
replied Mulder nodded.

"One works for GreenPeace. He was a plant, trying to get the dirt
on Lochabee's handling of nuclear waste. Pure good luck, really,
that he was ordered to return to Lochabee rather than down to
Patrick's Point. He was driving through the village and
deliberately smashed his car up a light pole outside the police
station. His passenger, poor chap, died of head injuries. Silly
blighter didn't have a seat belt. But the bloody idiot Bronin took
his time deciding our GreenPeace chappie's story should be acted
on. Bronin really must go, he's just not on the ball at all."

Forrester had displayed one of his rare but memorable outbursts of
rage against the Sergeant. By the time Inspector Wilson arrived
and the full story repeated endless times, it was dusk and the
storm virtually on them. All they could do was arrest the men at
Patrick's landing and wait for the launch. But the launch never
came.

"I knew you were resourceful Fox, but I must say I'm impressed
with your dispatchment of the other two."

"Does that mean I get our security bond back on the launch?"

Forrester laughed, "But what's the connection between our mystery
and Lochabee? It really doesn't make any sense. Why would they
kill so many and dump the bodies?"

"Oh Lochabee's guilty as hell all right." Mulder announced "But
not of killing people - at least not these ones."

Forrester frowned "I'm afraid I'm not as bright as you old chap,
paint it in two syllables or less."

"Remember that old joke about a guy sending a telegram to seven of
his friends saying 'Flee, all is discovered?' and six left town?
Same thing." Mulder said between sips.

"So they're up to something that your poking around and asking
about radiation tests will reveal, but in itself has nothing to do
with this case?'

"You got it."

"What's your guess?" Forrester asked after a pause.

"Check all the sites, especially underground caves and I'll bet
you any money Lochabee's storing nuclear waste. They've been
trying to negotiate a deal with the Australians for long term
storage in a deep chamber in the Western Australian desert.
Geologically that country is one of the most stable regions on the
planet. Their state government wants it, but their federal
government says no. Some friends of mine tell me that the project
has already gone ahead in secret. However, about eight years back
numerous test cores were drilled in the areas around here,
starting from subterranean caves, to experiment with different
aspects of the storage set up. Remember some of this stuff has to
be kept over 100,000 years before it's safe. I'm betting they've
stashed a little in these local test sites to monitor over the
years. Having young and eager students wandering around the area
with Geiger counters in hand was going to ruin their day. And
since this way out idea came from me, killing me would very likely
kill the problem. So what did they say after they were captured?"

"The GreenPeace chap said he knew next to nothing. They hired him
because he was big and stayed silent, but had proven he could
handle himself in a bar fight. They'd had him do a few stand over
jobs against his fellow Greenies, but this was the first time he
believed anyone would be killed. That was sufficient to make him
blow his cover.

"The other one was a little more talkative, when Inspector Wilson
arrested him on suspicion of murdering you two. It surprised me
really, that he caved in so fast, but you can never tell about
people. Still, it was not much although there were far greater
problems with the handling of radioactive waste that were commonly
known. And what was known was shoddy enough."

"Remind me to donate something to GreenPeace." Mulder replied.

"I already have." smiled Forrester "Quite a chunk. However I think
they are happier having learned about this. What you say dovetails
nicely into what Wilson managed to pry from your attacker. As we
speak the Board of Directors and chief research staff are being
arrested. I doubt they shall have a happy New Year."

"I'll do up a report on my findings this afternoon and get it to
Wilson. It hasn't solved our problem though."

At that moment the doctor came into the library and reported on
Scully's condition.

"If you'd managed to get those butterfly bandages on sooner, " he
scowled at Mulder "You would have saved a lot of scarring. But
having checked her over, I suppose one more scar will hardly
matter."

Mulder went to object but Dale shook his head surreptitiously.

"She could do with a few more days of rest and a high iron and
potassium diet to make up for that blood loss. I've given her some
vitamin shots. The frostbite is superficial and once the skin
peels from her face, she'll look a bit patchy, but no real damage
done. I understand your hand needs to be looked at."

Mulder did not like this guy's bedside manner "Nope, hand's fine."

The doctor scowled "Don't be foolish young man, Miss Scully said
it had been bleeding."

"My hand is fine, my own Doctor has already attended to it."

The doctor scowled and glared at Forrester.

"Oh there's a good chap, didn't I tell you that Miss Scully is
actually Doctor Scully? Look," he added as he led the man from the
library. "I've a carton of wool for Sarah to spin..." his voice
faded as he led the Doctor away. Presently, Dale returned. Mulder
stood, wanting to get back upstairs to check his email and catch
up on a few ideas. The Doctor's comments about Scully's scars
angered him. Scully had born no scars until working on the X-files
and she damned well deserved to wear them as badges of honor,
something to be proud of, not ashamed.

But did Scully feel that way? How does a woman feel when her body
bears the permanent reminders of a dozen unpleasant encounters?

"Don't mind Paul," Forrester said "He's a gruff old bastard but
he's kind at heart. And he's been doing some research for me,
about my...problem." Mulder caught his friend's eye and asked the
unspoken question.

Forrester grinned "It seems science has progressed far enough to
extract a single sperm from my one remaining nut and viably
impregnate an egg cell. But," he held up his hand as Mulder slowly
smiled and nodded "I'm not rushing into changing my lifestyle, at
least not yet. I'm still having too good a time!"

But Mulder couldn't keep the smile from his face as he replaced
his teacup and moved to leave. Dale's plane accident and
subsequent mishandling by a female doctor had been a stupid waste.

Forrester held him gently by the arm and remarked "She's very
different to Phoebe, or Diana. Stronger, more honest." Mulder's
face closed but Forrester added quickly, hoping humor would break
the tension "And she puts up with you old boy. For that alone she
should be awarded sainthood."

Mulder smiled a little stiffly as he left the room. Yeah, she put
up with him and now she had one more scar to prove it.

How many more scars before he killed her?

CHAPTER 17
LOCHMEADE CASTLE NORTHERN ENGLAND
28th DECEMBER 1999

Scully sat up in bed, reading glasses perched on her nose, tapping
away on her lap top. The purring of the ubiquitous gray cat could
no longer lull her.

"Mulder," she called softly when she heard the door of the suite
open.

He stood at the bedroom door and blinked in surprise. Scully was
actually doing as she was told. She was still in bed, but her face
was drawn and pale. As her eyes met his, he knew instantly
something was very wrong. He strode to the bed and sat on the
edge.

"Scully, what is it?"

She wordlessly turned the laptop to him, tabbed a key and his eyes
widened as the familiar images of burned bodies filled the screen.

They stared at each other wordlessly for a moment. It took every
ounce of Scully's willpower not to finger the lump in her neck.

"Where?" Mulder asked.

"Everywhere...." Scully's eyes started to look panicky, but she
blinked, grasping madly at her protective walls.

Mulder took the computer from her and scanned the images, then
quickly read the accompanying CNN reports. He handed her back the
computer, strode into the sitting room and turned on the
television. It took him a few minutes to locate CNN and by that
time, Scully has joined him.

"It's been happening since Christmas Day, eighteen different
countries," she said in a low voice, "Probably nothing but follow
up reports today."

Mulder looked at his partner in concern "Eighteen incidences?"

Scully sighed in exasperation "No, eighteen countries, probably
fifty or so incidences in all.... Millennium fever. Mulder there
are so many doomsday cultists out there engaging in mass suicides,
these are just needles in haystacks." But the fear haunted her
eyes. Oh God this was supposed to have been finished at El Rico!
They were dead!

Suddenly, it overwhelmed her and she crumpled to the seat with
tears streaming from her eyes. She had denied it, denied him all
these years because she'd been too afraid to believe her world was
anything other than controllable. They'd taken her and they'd
taken a part of her soul, even stealing her immortality with her
ova. But she had gone on, stronger, harder than before. With the
power of his convictions, he had saved her, a dozen times he had
saved her and yet, it was all worthless in the face of this.

Mulder was too intent on the television to notice Scully's sudden
emotional collapse. But as he went to speak, he saw her tiny form,
somehow withered, curled in the chair. His brows knitted and he
tried to see her face, but it was blocked by her hands. Her
shoulders shook as she sobbed quietly. Mulder's heart fell apart
into small pieces. He depended on her strength, her anchorage so
much that to see her lose it like this tore him apart. "Scully,
Scully?" He crouched in front of her and tried to remover her
hands, but she just kept shaking her head.

But Mulder refused to be pushed aside. He knew what she was going
through. He'd been down the same road of despair in Diane's
apartment, when CGB Spender finally told him the truth.

Scully wanted to fall into her mother's arms and have her say it
would be all right. She just wanted it all to go away. Not for the
first time she wondered if it would have been better to succumb to
the cancer.

They controlled her. Totally.

It had been the ultimate horror to her psych. Oh she recognised
her control fetish. She feared flying for that very reason.
Someone had her life in their hands and she had no control over
it. And someone, something had placed this....thing in her with
absolute power over her. Simple choices, leave it in and we own
you, take it out and you die. Mulder knew. He might be a selfish
asshole at times but he was still a psychologist. He had known
since Cassandra had been taken. Scully lived in terror of losing
control, and those bastards controlled her. He not only lived in
terror she would be taken, but he also lived in hopelessness as he
watched stone take the place of her once happy soul.

Day by day she hardened just a little more. Day by day the smiles
disappeared. Day by day her need to control her emotions grew, as
her fear of their control over her mounted. He had watched the
stones crack a little over Christmas, to reveal the carefree girl
who had walked into his office all those years ago. As strong as
she was, Scully was fast headed for an emotional breakdown and
that, she would not tolerate. He knew she would prefer death to
that and he lived in equal terror of the day she chose to have the
implant removed. "Scully...I'm here with you. I won't leave, I
won't let it happen to you like this."

"How are you going to stop it Mulder?" Scully wanted to be angry,
but she was far too exhausted "What, are you gonna put an alarm on
me, like a child monitor? You can't watch me every moment of every
day, Mulder." Although she recognised that's pretty much what he
had been doing these last few years. "You can't..."

"Scully, listen to me. Something is coming and it's going to be
soon now. We both knew that after El Rico. I'm not going to stand
here and make you admit it to me, but you have to admit it to
yourself. You have to let go of your convictions and trust me.
Krycek was right, there's a war raging. I'm not giving up and I'm
not letting you go, do you hear me?" He had lifted her from the
seat and somehow managed to sit himself back down with her in his
lap. He stroked her hair as convulsive sobs wrack her body. "We'll
stay together from now until this finishes and if you start
to...wander, I'll be here to catch you."

They stayed in each other's arms for a long time. Gradually Scully
pulled herself together in time to watch the breaking news. A
London fire, a sports club, flames licking, hoses flashing water
and fireman running. Nothing yet to indicate it was related to
other incidents but their instincts.

"Mulder...Mulder I want to go there. I need to see it."

His face reflected his helplessness, but he would never consider
denying her this. She needed to be in the thick of it in order to
come to grips with what was happening, in orer to grasp some
control over it. He breathed deeply "I'll call Skinner while you
get some things together. Dale keeps an a apartment in London, we
can spend a few nights there."

She unfurled herself from his arms, but could not meet his eyes.
Then berating herself for being ungracious she glanced at him
through lowered lids and said in a small voice "Thank you Mulder."

He simply nodded, knowing her thanks were on many levels.

CHAPTER 18
HELICOPTER TRANSIT TO LONDON
28th DECEMBER 1999

"What have you got?" He asked through the headset in the
helicopter. They had contacted Scotland Yard and were in transit
less then fifteen minutes after the news broke. On the flight
down, Scully checked attached email reports from Scotland Yard,
Quantico and the Lone Gunmen, the latter of whom were the most
informative.

"It's as I suspected, look here," she turned the screen until he
could see two molecular structures and chemical formulas. He
frowned, he was familiar with one, but not the other. "What is it,
an enzyme and a catalyst?"

"Yup, but I've never known that compound to act as a catalyst
before. It works, chemically, but if you look here it doesn't
activate with calcium, hence the skeletons remained untouched.
It's extremely fast acting, but the catalyst seems to have somehow
broken down in the case of the American couple, the Drakes."

"Then it's not really a catalyst."

"Noo....and yes, there seems to be another factor at play. I'm
trying a simulation using different types and levels of radiation.
My guess at this stage is Lochabee may yet be involved."

"Scully, Lochabee is a red herring, you must know that by now." He
said softly, covering her small hand with his.

"Mulder, I'm not in denial, but I need to...I need to work on
something I can understand, something I can come to grips with.
I'm not refuting the larger picture, I just need to tidy lose
ends."

He nodded in understanding. The heavens warred and mortals died
for being messy, failed experiments, or because they would be used
to serve the wrong side. And Scully, with her implant, prevented
any thoughts he might have entertained of aligning with those who
might yet save them all.

As if she had heard his thoughts aloud she replied "Mulder, it is
just a theory. You're right, I have no physical evidence to
disprove your theories, but more importantly, I have none to prove
them."

"Except for everything you've seen, everything that's happened to
you...Ah forget it." Why did he do this? In an unusual moment of
bitterness he snapped "Y'know maybe we should just tape this
particular argument and play it as our wakeup call to get us in
the right frame of mind each morning." But he almost kicked
himself as the words left his mouth. Christ he was an insensitive
bastard, Scully was trying her damnedest to work through her fears
by concentrating on what she did know, what she could do. He had
no right to criticise her for that.

Scully sighed and looked away. "Mulder, I...I'm honestly not
trying to bug you on this. I don't have the answers, but I'm not
going to grasp at the incredible because I lack those answers. You
know I can't do that as a scientist...I need something more than
empirical evidence. And I thought for a while there you actually
respected that."

Mulder turned to look at her pale face. That was the first time
either of them had alluded to what he'd said to her in his hallway
the previous summer. And now they were doing it in the back of a
goddamned helicopter in the way to a charnel house. "Scully,
you're right. It's just...frustrating to watch the physical
evidence disappear into toxic green jello every time we come
close. Besides, what's wrong with empirical evidence? Black holes
would never have been discovered without it!"

He expected her to smile at his lame attempt at humor but she
frowned even more. Looking down at her hands she replied
"Empirical evidence is fine if you want to believe in something.
But if it forces you to question the paradigms by which you live,
by which you have been trained, you need substance. You need
enough evidence to totally debunk all that has gone before. That's
one hell of a leap, Mulder. That sort of thing doesn't happen very
often and when it does, it shakes science to its foundations. Just
look what happened to physics after Einstein came along."

Mulder understood Scullyspeak. What she really meant was that if
the facts terrified the fucking hell out of you, you wanted every
bit of evidence you could to deny, or substantiate those facts.
The null hypothesis, good scientific training, he now knew Scully
had come to believe him, but wild horses and dissolving aliens
would not let her admit it. She needed her philosophical crutch.
He just hoped he could provide her with some worthwhile
replacement when the shit hit the fan and hers and everyone else's
crutches were swept away in the face of a reality too horrifying
to contemplate.

And by the events around them it looked like the shit had already
let fly.

"Hey," he grinned lopsidedly. Scully looked up, still frowning,
"Ya wanna go and see some nekid bones? I fixed it to meet Simmons
down in the Museum of Natural Science after we visit the crime
scene."

"Simmons, isn't he the one looking after the plesiosaurs?" Scully
visibly brightened. Real live Loch Ness monster bones she was
prepared to believe in, maybe.

"The very same. Are you up to it Scully? I doubt the bodies will
be ready for autopsy until tonight."


The aircraft landed at Scotland Yard's rooftop helipad. At
Mulder's request Inspector Wilson met the two agents. The Scotland
Yard detective had at first refuted any suggestion of a connection
between the dumped bodies and the Club house fire, but Mulder was
insistent. And it was on the way to the latest immolation, a good
forty minute's drive away, that Mulder told the Inspector a story
of a war between worlds.

"So you see, Inspector, why I was less than forthcoming at Loch
Meade." Mulder smiled self deprecatingly, knowing the Scotland
Yard man viewed him as some sort of crank "But I'm afraid there
will be many more instances of this until....well, I'm not privy
to the set date. That was one piece of information that black
lunged bastard failed to reveal."

Scully took her partner's hand in mutual support. She had never
heard it as a linear tale before, and especially not when
listening with an open mind. It had always only come in
frustrating patches, like an infinite jigsaw puzzle. She was still
unwilling to admit conversion to his ideas, but she could now
admit the pattern.

Walters did not fail to see Scully's gesture and he wondered once
again if the two agents were lovers. But he dismissed the notion.
If they were, they would carefully hide such intimacies in public.
No, not lovers, but...something far greater. These two must have
lived one hell of a life if a fraction of what Mulder said was
true.

"Inspector," Mulder continued "You will find nothing to
substantiate my claims. In fact from what you tell me, we are
right about this fire and you will find no traces of an
accelerant. Throughout, like the disappearing bodies at Loch
Meade, it is the absence of evidence you need consider." As much
as Walters wished he could dismiss the American's tale as a
fanciful joke, something in him, some gut instinct warned him not
to.

"Run a background check on the dead. I think you'll find them to
be members of Mufon, or at least multiple abductees."

"So you expect more of this sort of thing? Christ we're already
run ragged with bloody cultists and end of the word doom sayers. I
wish to God we could get into the new millennium without all this
crap."

Scully sighed, not wishing to sound pedantic. It mattered little.
Regardless of the mathematics, most people viewed the coming
Friday to be *the* date despite the actual millennium was still
twelve months away. If there was anyone left to celebrate in
twelve months....

Mulder asked how she felt as they left the vehicle and stepped
beneath the crime scene tape. For a rare moment she answered
honestly "I'm fine, Mulder. In fact I'm surprised how good I do
feel. You're bandaging wasn't bad."

He had meant how she felt in other ways, but that she had answered
him at all was a start "Ah, Scully," he whispered into her hair "I
was top of the class in bondage."


They made their way past the familiar surrealism of a bad crime
scene. Flashing blue and white lights cut a path through their
eyes. Broken glass, scorched timber and puddles of water beginning
to freeze. Two red fire trucks remained, with assorted black and
white cars. Television camera's perched like carrion birds atop
film trucks. Yellow and black body bags were being unfolded while
camera flashes shot in the distance.

Scully remained professionally aloof, despite the charred smell.
The agents noticed a number of the clean up crew wearing face
masks. It was Mulder's misfortune that his eidetic memory
stretched to both aural and olfactory senses as well as visual. He
silently grimaced, recalling his terror while trying to locate
Scully on the bridge at Ruskin Dam. Recalling his agony at the
sight of a dead redheaded woman. Recalling almost physically
collapsing when he learned she was alive.

No-one here had survived. Unlike other occasions the massacre was
complete, with considerable fire damage to the structure. Scully
took Mulder to one side. They had both noticed people at the scene
who looked too well groomed for police or forensics.

"Mulder, can you give me a hand with this? I can see at least half
a dozen bodies with cranial cavities and spinal cords partially
exposed. If we can locate some with implants..." He nodded in
understanding. Scully may not be in complete agreeance with him,
but she understood the stakes and wanted, needed more than he to
locate hard evidence. Once the bodies were out of sight, any
implants might conveniently disappear on the way to the morgue.

Scully snapped on her gloves, but Mulder had difficulty using his
right hand so she proceeded to roll the latex over his fingers as
he stood passively. Despite the surrounding horror, her closeness
and gentle actions were somehow sensual and he found himself
becoming aroused.

She had the rubber half way down his fingers and wanted him to
jiggle them. "C'mon Mulder, push it in a little."

Mulder groaned at her unintentional double entendre and he looked
away, unwilling to make a ribald comment in view of her recent
state of mind. Scully immediately realised what was wrong.
Suddenly, the whole scenario was so inappropriate, so improbable
that she actually chuckled and decided to tease him. "What's wrong
Mulder, been a while since you snapped on the latex?"

"Even longer since someone snapped it on for me. Not," he added
hastily, "That I'm complaining."

Scully couldn't keep the smirk off her face "Just wiggle your
fingers to get it in." She deliberately ran her small, strong
fingers down each of his latex covered ones in a gesture that
resulted in Mulder's pants bulging.

"Okay, now the other hand."

He moved restlessly and kept looking over her shoulder, pretending
to watch the grisly scene. He was disgusted with himself. How
could he possibly get a respectable hard on in the face of such
appalling death? But he quickly justified his reactions with the
knowledge that every forensic pathologist he knew had a wicked
sense of morgue humor. "C'mon Scully, it will all be over with by
the time you get it on."

"That's right you did say you were fast, didn't you?"

He snapped his eyes back to his partner. Surely she wasn't..? But
he noticed the tiny grin pulling at her lips as she sensuously
caressed the latex over his still bandaged fingers. "I tell you
what, Scully," he said in a low growl "Promise me you'll do it
again tonight and I'll be as slow as you want."

God, she should have known better than to goad him, but she hit
him with a parting shot. Stretching up on tiptoes to speak, he
automatically leaned down and turned his head slightly to hear her
whisper "Mulder, button your overcoat until you get it under
control."

He found himself gawking after her retreating back. She had
noticed. Christ, how many other times had she noticed? He shook it
off and held his coat close to his body as he went to examine the
first corpse.

A short time later Scully extracted an implant from the first
victim. "Inspector?" She called to Walters as she stood, tweezers
in hand.

The Scotland Yard detective excused himself from the fire chief
and made his way across the smoking remains. He frowned as he
approached, wishing it had not begun to snow. From the corner of
his eye he noticed Mulder standing up, holding something in his
hands as well, Scully held the object up to Walters and dropped it
into the gloved mans hands. As she spoke, her partner joined her
and proffered a much smaller object.

Motioning to her find she stated "Inspector, this is a nasal
implant located in the pharyngeal cavity. The one Agent Mulder
extracted was a subcutanous implant at the base of the neck. I
doubt you will find a pharyngeal one in every victim, it is more
likely to find a smaller neck implants, however many of these
remains are too badly burned. I'd like to either assist in the
autopsies or at the very least, make a recommendation for the
pathologists to look for similar implants in the deceased."

Walters took the crisped object from Scully "What is it?"

"A tracking device, a controlling device too, as far as we can
tell. Very likely used to gather people to one location for easier
transport. Inspector, you will not find the technology to
understand what these things are. That lack of understanding is
like lack of proof, it becomes proof in itself."

"Then how the bloody hell are we going to stop it happening
again?" Scully and Mulder looked at each other. Her eyes shone
fiercely in the gloomy afternoon light, but he could see the
courage in them as she placed all of her trust in him. "The only
possible way, Inspector," Scully said quietly, "Is to locate every
member of Mufon, every person who has ever claimed to be abduced
and make certain they are monitored 24 hour a day. When the
compulsion comes for them to gather together comes, they have no
warning, no knowledge. If we can keep them from gathering in one
place, you may be able to save them."

"But for how long?" Walters asked.

Mulder looked at Scully with a lighter heart. She had finally
accepted the truth. He turned to the inspector and said "I don't
think it will be for long. I think time is fast running out."


Their Museum visit revealed nothing new, but it was a pleasant
contrast to the gruesome afternoon. Mulder wished they had the
time to shower and change first. The smell of death and fire
lingered in his nostrils. In a sudden mental whimsy he wondered if
snuff taking might come back into vogue.

It intrigued and satisfied their mutual curiosities to see the
incredible size and complexity of the plesiosaur skeletons.
Simmons was as proud of them as a new mother, especially of the
one almost complete unit. His only disappointment was that until
the question of age and the reason for its location at Loch Meade
could be completely clarified, no self respecting journal would
publish their findings. All the evidence to date indicated that
the bones were from an animal that had died in the same place and
about the same time, as the humans who had accompanied it.

Although Mulder now believed the animals were modern refuse from a

failed alien experiment and thus proof that plesiosaurs lived in
modern times, Scully sided with Simmons.

"There's a reason why journals don't publish without certain
parameters being met." Simmons told them "Look at Piltdown man and
the now successfully debunked photos of Nessie."

"Weren't those the ones taken by a doctor?" Scully asked as
Simmons showed her the famous neck out of the water Loch Ness
photos.

"Yes, but he confessed in 1998 that he'd faked the whole thing.
And if you remember, these specific photos started the whole
modern myth. Oh to be sure, sightings have been recorded for
centuries, but this one photo initiated a search over decades that
cost, in the end, hundreds of millions of pounds. No, journals do
not publish without carefully examining the data, for very good
reasons."

They spent the remainder of the afternoon learning what
paleontologists presumed was the possible lifecycle and habits of
plesiosaurs. Neither of them felt it had any real bearing in the
events unfolding around them, but it was a pleasant break.

The following day was simply slog work; background checks and
forensic evidence. It was boring, repetitive work. But it was work
they were accustomed to. People generally thought catching
criminals was glamorous, most particularly the chase and final
capture. But aliens and mutants, serial killers and conspiracies
were neither glamorous nor exciting. The real work was what they
achieved behind a computer, in front of a microscope. Here were
the great discoveries, the excitement, the glamour, but only
after, if they were lucky, hundreds of ours of slog work. In this
instance, they learned nothing new except that every one of the
twenty eight deceased in Sports Club fire, had implants of some
sort in their bodies.


CHAPTER 19
LONDON
29th DECEMBER 1999

Over the next twenty four hours, three more incidences occurred in
England and thirty eight worldwide. Most news reports considered
it to be the expected frenzy leading up to the end of the year,
now only fifty two hours away. Mulder and Scully took the
helicopter back to Loch Mead and from there, examined yet another
disappearing body dumping and two more fires around Edinburgh.

Mulder had refused to let Scully out of his sight and had even
gone so far to locking the dead bolts on the doors and removing
the keys. If Scully fell under some compulsion to leave, she had
to go through him first.

By the time they finally returned to the Castle, Scully wanted
nothing more than a hot bath, good meal and early night. The
tragedy unfolding before them and their frustration's trying to
convince anyone that some people might yet be saved if they could
just be located and protected had not left them unmoved. For once,
Scully was in complete understanding of the years of frustrations
her partner had suffered. And yet because they were in a strange
sort of accord, the agents felt oddly buoyed.

Scully threw her coat onto the bed and thanked Sally for drawing
her a bath. Mulder insisted on letting her go first and settled
down to check his email.

"Hello...puss. Mulder, do you know what this cat's name is?"

"What cat?" he called from the other room.

"The gray one, the one that's adopted me."

His voice changed timbre as he came into her room "I've never seen
a cat..." He stopped as he noticed the large smoky gray Burmese
curled up on the far side of Scully's bed. As if the animal knew
it was being discussed, it raised its head and blinked at them
with the most extraordinary yellow eyes. In typical cat fashion,
it yawned a delicate wide pink mouth and stretched out one clawed
foot before feigning indifference and returning to sleep.

Oh.

"Oh, that cat." A slow smile spread across his eyes and touched
the corner of his mouth. Mulder owned the best poker face in town
and he knew it, but this was simply too good and he couldn't
control it. He idly wondered how long he could drag it out.
"That's Maurice."

"Odd name for a cat."

"No, no in fact it's surprisingly appropriate."

Scully looked at him in mute question as she removed her boots and
socks. Mulder's face shrugged.

"So what is he, a castle fixture or family pet?" If Mulder knew
that cat's name, then the animal had to be at least eleven years
old. Not ancient but getting there. Yet this animal looked young
and healthy. Scully had noticed the clear pink throat and fine
white cat teeth as it yawned.

"I'd definitely categorise him as a castle fixture. He seems to
have taken a liking to you."

"He sleeps with me every night."

"Hey, Maurice, what's the trick? I've been trying for years."
Mulder whispered loudly to the cat.

Scully turned on her 'I am an FBI person I am not a woman'
countenance "In your dreams, Mulder."

"Regularly, Scully."

To her horror, memories of the night in the cabin came gushing
back and Scully found herself blushing. She turned quickly into
the bathroom but not before Mulder had caught sight of her
reddened cheeks. He smirked, that was her second blush this week.
And there was still the cat. Oh he was definitely having a good
time tonight.

"Don't start with me, Mulder." Scully shouted from the bathroom as
she closed the door

"What?" Mulder replied with a grin, knowing she would refuse
conversation while she rested in her bath.

Mulder checked the email and turned on CNN, shaking his head at
the ongoing pre-Millennium hysteria. Thankfully, he detected no
new reports that he could ascribe to alien massacres. When he
heard Scully open the bathroom door to her room, he stood up and
locked their sitting room door and pocketed the key. He double
checked the French windows, secure in the knowledge that Scully
could not esacpe. Even so, he showered in record time, insisting
on leaving the door open and making sure he could see her while he
shaved. He knew Scully would quickly balk at his
overprotectionism, but he also knew she was pretty spooked by the
deaths perpetrated by the faceless aliens.

And he was under no illusions that somthing big would break in the
next few days.

When they were ready for dinner, Scully went to her bedroom to
retrieve her coat. Maurice had, in typical cat fashion, decided it
made a better bed than the plush eiderdown. Scully was about to
shoo him off when he chose to move of his own accord. She picked
up the coat and held it up into the light to brush away the
inevitable furs. But as much as she held it back and forth, not
one gray filament could be seen.

"A cat that doesn't molt, he's better trained that you, Mulder."

"I don't molt in bed either, Scully."

Scully glared at him from lowered eyelids as she walked to the
door. "I'll make a note of that in my field report."

"Do you think that's wise, Scully? Skinner might suspect we've
been consorting. Hell, he might even jump to the conclusion we've
slept together."

Scully frowned, how far was he going to push this? "Definitely not
an experience worth writing home about, Mulder, I can assure you."

"Ah, Scully, it wasn't my fault you slept through it."

"Nothing inspired me to do otherwise, Mulder."

Mulder wore his best hang dog expression, but the sly grin at the
corner of his mouth refused to go away. He pulled the door closed
behind them as they left their rooms, but Scully stopped him "The
French doors are locked, Maurice may want to get out."

"It's not a problem."

"Look Mulder, I know cats. He may like me now but if he's locked
in here without his kitty litter, he's just as likely to take it
out on me first."

"Maurice is not that kinky, Scully."

Scully looked at her partner in exasperation. "You're feeling
pretty chipper tonight Mulder, what gives?"

Mulder replaced his smirk with a totally innocent 'who me?'
expression and insisted on shutting the door.

"Okay, fine, but if he pees in my bed, I get your bed tonight."

"Promises, promises." He smirked as they walked off.

"Alone - you can have mine instead."

"Ah, c'mon, Scully, you know as well as I do I'll keep you warm."

Sally's appearance in the hallway interrupted their banter.

"Oh, Sally?" Scully asked "We've left Maurice in our rooms, but
the doors are closed, is he able to get out okay?"

At the sound of the cat's name, the girl's eyes widened
fractionally. Standing directly behind Scully, Mulder
surreptitiously put his index finger to his lips. This was
priceless, he thought. This was soooo good he just had to drag it
out for a few days.

"Um...yes, ma'am, Maurice can get out of....um, any room."

"Lot's of hidden passageways through this old castle, isn't that
right. Sally?" Mulder added.

"Um, yes, yes Sir."

Scully frowned. She knew she was being left out of the loop here,
but could not for the life of her see what it was. As the maid
continued past them, her curiosity outweighed her need to figure
it out for herself.

"Okay, Mulder, give."

"What?" He had gained complete control of himself now. Oh yeah, he
was going to drag this one out for as long as possible.

"The cat, Mulder, Maurice the cat, what's going on?"

He shook his head, catching his lower lip between his teeth as if
he were distracted by something more important. But his eyes were
whirling the wrong color, Scully decided.

"Nothing's going on Scully, he's just a bit of a Houdini, that's
all."

"Mm." Okay, fine, she'd ask Dale over dinner.

CHAPTER 20
DECEMBER 29TH 1999
LOCHMEADE CASTLE NORTHERN ENGLAND

The early tea was a light hearted affair, once again buoying
Scully's spirits. None but Dale had any idea of the evolving
tragedies around them except for news reports on various
television and radio stations. But such nonsense was a result of
Millennium fever, was it not? It had nothing to do with the
residents of this fairy tale castle.

The children had been promised a trip to the carnival in the
village. Much to their disappointment, Scully begged off going.
Mulder looked at her tired eyes and realised she needed sleep. His
partner had been more restless than usual the previous night. He'd
also slept badly, fearing if he nodded off, Scully might be gone
when he awoke. It hit him then that the two best night's sleep
he'd experienced in years had been in the cabin, wrapped in
Scully's arms. He knew all too well what that meant, but refused
to tread those mental roads. The dragons were still waiting on the
sidelines of that map.

Just the three of them remained in the library, Irish coffees in
hand, as they discussed the unfolding events of the previous days.
Dale remained thoughtful but uncommitted, but then with Scully's
reluctant agreement, Mulder informed him of their very real fears
for her.

"Scully, he knows about your implant already, I'm just drawing a
line between the dots." He went on to explain how the implant
acted as a device that would lure her to possible death. It was,
as far as he was concerned just a matter of time.

As much as she hated her weakness revealed to another, she also
realised Mulder wanted to protect her. He needed to go to
Edinburgh the following day while Scully remained in communication
with Skinner and the Lone Gunmen. They were now racing against
time to locate and inform every known abductee to seek protection.
And, Scully admitted to herself, she herself needed to be
protected.

God when would this all be over? She turned restlessly in her seat
and sipped the large cognac Dale poured, hoping it might inspire
sleep. Dale sighed loudly and finally replied "Well, Fox old boy,
it beats garden fairies hands down."

Mulder smiled without humor. "Yeah. Uum, have any of the kids
ever...you know..seen anything?"

"Oh yes. I've never told them the story, but they've come back
with a tale or two."

Scully perked up her ears wanting to be sidetracked "What story?"

"You mean you haven't told her?" Dale looked questioningly at
Mulder.

"Well...Scully isn't really into that sort of thing."

"Oh come on old chap, Dana works with you, she must be!"

"What story, what sort of thing?" Scully asked in an exasperated
voice, her eyes moving between the two men.

Mulder sighed "All right Scully if you insist. Christmas, 1917. It
was a time of dark, dark despair. British soldiers were dying at
an ungodly rate in a war-torn Europe while at here and at home, a
deadly strain of the flu virus attacked young and old alike.
Tragedy was a visitor on every doorstep while a creeping
hopelessness set in with every man, woman and child. It was a time
of dark, dark despair...."

"Mulder," Scully said in a threatening voice "Can't you find a new
prologue? That was last year's and the dark dark despair is
getting to me."

"Oh yeah, I forgot about that. Look, maybe Dale should tell the
story after all, it is his family."

Scully glowered at the two men while Dale repositioned himself on
the leather armchair. "But what Fox says is true. A bleakness had
settled upon the land. My great Uncle had already died tragically
of that dreaded virus. He was but eight years old. His cousin,
just a wisp of a girl at only twelve years, had lost her mother to
the same disease and her father, a soldier fallen on the
battlefields of France. The tragic orphan child was sent from
America to live here in this castle, with my great grandparents
and their one remaining child, my grandmother.

"Together these young innocents pondered the mysterious fates that
had torn their families apart, but they took solace in their
dreams and fairy tales. For you see, the fairies that live in the
glade near the loch took pity on them and filled their young lives
with mystery and wonder.

"Then one day my great grandfather left his box camera on the
kitchen table and these young innocents thought what wonder they
might bring if they could but capture the beauty of fairies on the
wing. And thus, risking all, they stole away with the camera to
the glenn and took a set of photographs that would soon turn the
world on its head.

"This is no idle tale my lovely Dana. This is documented fact. The
fairy photos were published in a local newspaper, although the
true location was kept secret for months. Sir Arthur Conan Doyle,
who's only son had also died in the horror of mud and filth known
as France, was himself buried in a grief that only a parent who
has lost a child can fully comprehend. Like his friend, Harry
Houdini, Sir Arthur had made a career of debunking charlatans and
frauds, hoodwinkers and con men who worked only to defraud the
gullible of a few pennies in order to commute with their dead
loved ones. Sir Arthur did it living in hope he might one day find
a true psychic while Houdini simply could not stand profiteering
tricksters.

"By strange circumstance the two men found themselves at these
castle gates, fairy photos in hand. Harry to gently depose while
Sir Arthur wished for nothing more than to believe in some greater
magic, some hope to save a world almost lost to grief. They
brought with them a new camera provided by Mr Eastman, with new
film plates that had never left their keeping. At first the girls
were reluctant to recapture their friends on film, but they walked
with the famed gentlemen into the woods. They bade the men wait
while they skipped into the glenn. Not half an hour passed before
they returned merrily with their camera in tow, having captured
yet more images of true fairies in flight.

"Houdini and Sir Arthur returned to London with the camera and
film plates never leaving their possession. Despite every effort
to do so, neither they nor Mr Eastman could ever debunk the film.
The fairies wings were translucent, blurred not by bad handling of
the camera, but by motion, by flight. To this day no-one has ever
proved the film was anything but real.

"They say that soon thereafter, on a night when all seemed lost,
the fairies filled the castle and woke the girls and their parents
and all the servants from a deep sleep. They had come to say
farewell for word had finally spread. The fabled glenn and lands
about the loch had become the hunting grounds of careless fairy
seekers. But on that night, as a final parting gift to the
innocent girls, they sent home the lost soldier, father of my
grandmother's cousin. As he came walking proudly to the castle
gates the fairies left, promising to return once more in a time of
their choosing."

Dale sipped his cognac after the story had ended, leaving Scully
with a slight smile on her face. "It's a lovely story Dale."

"And all true." Mulder added "Ask Dale to show you a copy of the
photos tomorrow."

"Mulder...." Scully rolled her skeptical eyes at him.

"Scully, it was World War I. Their idea of photo retouching was
adding tints to lips and cheeks. Remember Eastman and a board of
experts could never debunk the film. Harry Houdini himself
verified its authenticity." But Mulder knew he was fighting a no
win battle. Still, he had Maurice up his sleeve.

He chuckled at that thought and bade Dale a goodnight.

CHAPTER 21
LOCHMEADE CASTLE NORTHERN ENGLAND
DECEMBER 29th 1999

Maurice was cleaning himself on one of the fireside chairs when
they returned to their rooms. Scully went across to the fire to
warm her hands, absently reaching down to give the cat a stroke.

"I wouldn't do that, if I were you." Mulder spoke quietly but
firmly.

Scully raised her eyes to him "Do what?"

"Pet Maurice."

"Why not, does he scratch?" Scully bent to test her theory, fully
prepared to pull back at the first sign of aggression from the
animal. However Maurice had other ideas and hopped from the chair
before Scully could touch him. She went to brush the fur away
before sitting down, but the chair seemed oddly clean. Then she
remembered her coat.

"He's exceptionally clean, Mulder, why should I not pet him?"

"I don't think you'd like your reaction. And Maurice does not molt
at all."

"Mulder, that's nonsense, all animals, all creatures molt to a
greater or lesser degree." Scully was annoyed now. She hated
sounding like a pedant at times but Mulder could be infuriating,
even over something as simple as a cat. If it wasn't so late she'd
go back downstairs and demand an explanation from Dale.

"Not Maurice." Mulder had pulled his lower lip into his mouth in
an effort to stop from grinning.

Scully looked up and her annoyance was fueled by her reaction to
his face. God he looked attractive when he did that. No Dana, be
honest, the description you were seeking was not attractive, it
was plain straight out sexual to the point of distraction.

Now she was getting seriously angry. "Mulder, I am not going to
play this game. I'm tired and it's late. G'night."

"G'night Scully." Mulder chuckled as he went to lock the doors.


"Ahhh!" Scully squeaked. She pulled backwards, tripping over her
shoes and landing heavily on her backside. The cut had healed
nicely, but it was still tender and the fall was an unpleasant
reminder. But what was worse was the fact that she actually
squealed. A high pitched girlie squeal.

"What, what is it, Scully are you okay?" Mulder had, or course,
come rushing into her bedroom like an avenging knight.

"I'm fine Mulder, I was just a bit...surprised." Scully stood, the
frown on her forehead deepening as she searched for Maurice.

"Why, what happened?" But Mulder's voice took on a pinch of mirth
as he looked around and realised Maurice was not perched on
Scully's bed. "Oh..." he chuckled "I told you not to pet him!"

Scully's sore rump had not improved her disposition. "Look Mulder,
nothing happened, I just gave him a pat and he...he...didn't like
it and he...went away."

"Sure, Scully he went away all right." Mulder was no longer trying
to hold in his obvious mirth. He would have liked this to last a
few days but he could no longer contain himself. Besides, Scully
was such a skeptic it might yet take some time to convince her.

At the sight of Mulder's barely contained humor, Scully felt a
childish desire to pound his chest and demand answers. "Mulder, I
swear I'm going to hurt you unless you tell me what's going on!"

He sighed, then took a deep breath to speak and burst out
laughing. He laughed so much Scully wondered what was wrong. But
she found herself grinning in return. It had been a very long time
since she'd seen Mulder indulge a real belly laugh. But her grin
evaporated when he finally replied "I'm sorry Scully, but I ca...I
can't tell you!" And his top teeth now made no pretense in
claiming his bottom lip to clamp his mirth.

Oh god, this was utterly priceless!

"Mulder, " Scully was seriously infuriated now, this was
ridiculous "Mulder! If you don't tell me so help me I'll..!"

He finally raised his hand in supplication. "Okay, okay, but I'm
warning you Agent Scully, you ain't gonna like it."

They both caught sight of Maurice as he padded across the bedroom
floor and leaped back on to Scully's bed.

"Okay Agent Scully, you're about to get a lesson in the value of
purely empirical evidence. Unfortunately for your peace of mind,
no hard, tangible evidence other than your own eyes will be
available to the prosecution. Ya better sit down, Scully, before I
tell you."

Scully just glared at him.

"Okay, well go sit near Maurice and pet him again. But this time,
watch what you're doing. He won't hurt you, although he won't play
the game too often before he'll disappear for the night. I know,
I've been there."

Scully continued to glower but she climbed up onto the bed and
reached over to pet Maurice. She lost her balance slightly as her
hand, instead of stopping on the small animal's head, passed
straight through into the body and beyond to the bedspread below.

Scully blinked and nodded her head forward. Her mouth opened in
shock.

"Mulder...?"

"Yes Agent Scully?" Mulder folded his arms across his body and
leaned against a bedpost, tears of mirth desperately trying not to
fall onto is cheeks.

"What just happened?" Her eyes were wide and round.

"Oh, you have to tell me. But I'll make it easy. Maurice will come
back in a sec and you can try it again."

Scully just stared at her hand and the vacated spot on the bed.
Less than thirty seconds passed when the lithe gray animal leaped
effortlessly onto covers and came across to sit near Scully. He
turned his amazing yellow eyes to her, but did not lay down. He
just sat, waiting expectantly.

"Go ahead, Scully. He knows the drill. He won't settle down again
now until you've figured it out or he gets bored and wanders off."

Every instinct in Scully baulked at touching the animal. To do so
would be to prove something she had no desire to bear witness too.
But she couldn't help herself. As she tentatively reached out her
hand the cat twitched an ear and she involuntarily pulled back.
Mulder's vain attempt to control his laughter fueled her
willpower. Scully put her hand to the cat's head...through the
cat's head. Then she recalled why she had squealed the first time,
the sudden drop in temperature. Her hand passed down through the
body but by the time it had reached the bed, Maurice had faded
away like the smoky color that he was.

"Okay, Scully, you can say it now."

But she would not give him that satisfaction.

"That's okay, " he smirked, "I know you don't believe in ghosts,
especially ones named Maurice."

"Mulder that is the most ridic..'

"Well then what is it?" He shot back "Maurice has inhabited this
castle for over two hundred years. He's been seen by all the
family, right down to the toddlers, and they all love him. I mean
think on it Scully, he's the perfect pet. He doesn't eat or drink,
doesn't shed hair or stink out the place with kitty litter."

"Mulder there are no such things as ghosts and...even if...even if
there were...there would most certainly be no such things as ghost
animals!" Oh well done Dana! He's going to have you on that for
the next twelve months! She scowled and curled her lip in
frustration at her own stupidity. And Mulder, damn him, had to
hang on to the bed post as he laughed fit to bust.

"Oh, right! Brilliant deduction Watson! And what hard evidence do
you have to back up that piece of philosophy?"

Scully could only sit there in frustration and scowl. God did he
have to look so damned edible when he did that? Scully scrunched
her eyes closed trying to drive her conflicting emotions and
excessive alcohol away. It didn't help that he'd now fallen on to
the bed and was calling to the cat.

"Hey, Maurice, you hear that? Not only can you not exist as a
ghost, you are most definitely not allowed because you're an
animal!"

Maurice opened his mouth in an amused yawn and blinked his golden
eyes between them.

Scully shook her head, her own deeply buried sense of humor
starting to surface.

"Mulder get the hell of my bed and take that damned...cat with
you!"

"Oh no, Scully, this is too good! I want your scientific
explanation for this one. I hold you to account on two points.
What evidence can you provide that Maurice is not a ghost. And
two, as a self confessed disbeliever in such phenomena, how can
you make that prejudicial statement regarding his immortal soul?"

"Animals don't have souls, Mulder."

"Ah, that's a well known and documented fact, eh Scully?"

But his words fell on deaf ears as Scully scoured the room for
miniature cameras. This had to be some sort of joke, some
holographic projection.

Maurice and Mulder sat on the bed, resting on the respective paws
and fore arms, watching Scully as she systematically pulled the
bedroom apart.

"Okay, Mulder, fun's over." But as she turned to demand a real
explanation she saw Mulder grin at Maurice who, in turn, winked
back.

No, no Dana you did not see that cat wink. He did not wink at
Mulder. No, no, no, no , no no! She was tired, too much to drink.
Yep, that was it.

"Mulder." He raised his eyebrows receptively.,

"Get the hell of my bed and take...Maurice with you!" Mulder knew
that tone of voice all too well and decided the game was finished,
at least for the night.

"C'mon Maurice, if I were you I wouldn't stay just in case Dr.
Scully decides to perform an empirical exorcism."

Maurice stood from the bed and followed Mulder from the room as if
he had heard. Scully followed them both to the door then shut it
politely, but firmly. But when she turned back Maurice had
reappeared on her bed again.

"Mulder! Get in here!" Scully grabbed the door handle and opened
it so fast it slammed against the floor stop and bounced back to
hit Mulder on the face.

He turned to look his incensed partner, rubbing his face but
unable to keep from grinning. Scully stormed passed him and into
Mulder's room, slamming his door behind her.

"You sleep in that room tonight Mulder!" Scully shouted from
behind the door.

CHAPTER 22
LOCHMEADE CASTLE NORTHERN ENGLAND
3Oth DECEMBER 1999

Scully had just removed her glasses when she heard a knock at the
door. Presuming it was a maid she called "Come in."

Dale unlocked the door from the outside, Scully having freely
volunteered to remain locked in. He poked his head around the door
with big grin on his face "Ah ha! The lovely Dana...still worrying
when I think sleep would have been in order," he shook his head as
he entered the room "All work and no play cannot possibly make you
as dull as Fox but I'm here to make certain it doesn't."

Scully couldn't help but smile. She had already felt herself slip
past the point of physical attraction to him. His charm and
irreverent wit had, the past few days, turned from sensuality to
friendship. Scully was pleased, his friendship was far more
important than any vague need to feed physical desires she had
long since learned to suppress. His actions seemed to reflect that
and they had fallen into an easy banter. So she was a little
surprised at his invitation.

Mulder had left for Edinburgh a few hours before. He promised he
would be back before dark and for once Scully believed him. They
had spent a frightening, frustrating morning on line with Mufon
groups, warning members the possible consequences to prior
abductees of being left alone. But as the hours counted down to
the new year, the number of suicides and cult deaths continued to
climb. Self immolation seemed to be a favored tool. But it was not
difficult to distinguish cult suicides from...this thing that
Scully still could not fully admit to.

Whatever it was, another eight events had resulted in the deaths
of more than two hundred in four countries the previous night
alone. And still the press had no idea, no idea at all Scully
mused... It was coming. Soon now, very soon. She could almost feel
it.

"Dana, my dear Dana, I have a carriage awaiting your presence. Now
you must come because it's not every day you can go on a sleigh
ride in a forest made gentle by the snow. I insist that you repay
my hospitality with your company before it gets dark.

Scully had been ready for a break, her head was stuffed with too
much and she needed to run a few ideas past her partner's quick
mind.

"A sleigh ride?"

"Of course! The entire family have been riding around all day, the
children wondering where the lovely Miss Scully might be...and,"
he leaned forward and lowered his voice "You realise you are their
hero! The boys particularly are all madly in love with you. Not
only do you survive blizzards and life threatening injury's, you
kill bad men and carry a real live gun! You shall forever serve as
their role model!"

Dana blinked in surprise "It was Mulder who..."

"Oh come now Dana, Fox's sole purpose in life is to serve as a
warning to others."

Scully chuckled at that and allowed him to coax her from the room.
Three of the boys stood outside. With big grins on their faces
they begged her to come for a sleigh ride. The warm memories of
Christmas morning with the children flooded back, pushing in its
wake her spiritual tiredness.

"Now Dana, they have a surprise waiting for you." Dale whispered.
One of the boys took her hands and led her down the stairway. At
the bottom, Scott and Maggie handed Scully a box, almost identical
to the one Dale had given her for Christmas. Scully smiled at them
all, then sat on the bottom stair as the children swarmed around.
On opening her gift, she was moved almost to tears when she saw a
replacement for her lost jumper.

Scully hugged each of the children in turn and thanked them, her
eyes never leaving Dale. Had she really put her attraction to him
past her?

"Children, children?" One of the nannies's came into the foyer and
began ushering them to the bathroom to wash before tea. The nanny
was greeted by strong objections from all, they had wanted to go
for a sleigh ride with Dana.

Scully marveled at the inherent politeness of the children.
Despite their objections, they soon submitted to the gentle
authority of the Nanny, leaving her alone with Dale.

"Come," he held his hand to her, "It will be dark in an hour or
two and a sleigh ride at sunset is not to be missed."

They sat in quiet companionship for a ways, Dale leading a fresh
team of horses expertly through the snow. As the forest surrounded
them, Scully took in the entire scene with reverence. So much had
happened these past ten days. Yet each ugliness was washed away by
the tranquillity of being here. The fairy tale magic of an English
winter, Christmas and castles, sleigh rides and laughing children
all combined to wash away much of the accumulated pain of the last
few years.

Scully had noticed it in Mulder, too. He was such a complex
personality, passionate in the extreme, a borderline manic
depressive. This odd, fairy tale castle allowed his natural good
humor to bounce back much faster than normal, despite the fears
for the future they now faced.

Dale pulled the sleigh up a ridge then stopped as they reached the
top. The view below was straight from a storybook. Surrounded by
snow clad hills, the village lay partially in the shadows of early
evening. Smoke spiraled upwards from almost every chimney. Yellow
and white lights punctuated the shadows. It looked as peaceful and
harmonious as a soft symphony.

Dale moved from beside her and perched himself opposite, by
sitting on the rounded edge of the carriage. Dana looked up in
surprise. "Dana, my dear Dana, I admit to bringing you out here
for reasons other than a simple sleigh ride."

Scully's eyebrows lifted a notch and she felt adrenaline start to
course through her blood. Her instincts gave back confused signals
but before she could say anything he placed a gloved hand on hers
and spoke, the timbre of his voice changed. She had heard it
before, when he pushed aside his charm and wit. He was serious now
and his eyes displayed an impressive intellect that made Scully
blink.

"Dana, I am about to betray a confidence, something I would never
have deemed myself capable of, but I would not forgive myself for
sitting by and saying nothing. I risk a life long friendship with
a man who is far closer to my soul than my twin brother was. And I
risk a budding, and perhaps equally life long friendship with you
by doing so."

He now had Scully's complete attention and she stared at him
unblinkingly. Something was wrong with Mulder...what was it?

"Because of that I am going to ask three things which you may not
feel you can give. Nevertheless, I shall ask. Firstly, I ask that
you never, under any circumstances, tell Fox of this conversation.
This is an easy request because what you learn is in fact what
your heart already knows, I'm simply going to jolt it into
recognition."

Scully frowned, her stomach flipping, but Dale continued unabated.

"Secondly, I am going to ask that you allow me to finish what I
begin and finally, I pray that if you chose to ignore what I
reveal, you will not leave your partnership with Fox, for the
blame is mine, not his."

Scully felt her heart thumping, her nerves on edge. Something was
wrong with Mulder, what? She had to know, she had to help
him...Scully only nodded, her brows knitted in concern.

Dale sat up straighter and sighed. He looked up, not sure how to
begin now that Dana had agreed. He had not rehearsed this.

"By late Christmas afternoon, we knew you were in trouble and we
were utterly helpless in the face of that blizzard. We expected
the worst, but knowing Fox as I do, I hoped for the best. I
couldn't sleep and...well I ended up pulling out my old email
files. Fox may have mentioned that I'm rather anal in my habits. I
keep everything on file, going back for years, all in meticulous
order. And so I found myself opening my correspondence with Fox,
from the time he left Oxford until our most recent exchanges.

"Dana, I must prelude this with the statement that Fox and I are
both very heterosexual," Scully blinked, but she could see where
he was coming from

"One's predilections become clear at Oxford, a good thing, I think
for those who have hidden their natural yearnings. And thus I am
qualified to state, in no uncertain terms, that Fox and I are
physiologically incapable of feeling sexual attraction to men. But
I am perhaps, more capable of honesty in my feelings than he.

"I love Fox, more so than I have loved my brothers. I have shared
with him...much," Dale remembered their night with the Australian
student. He hadn't thought about it in years and it brought on a
chuckle. Dana sat quietly, but she held herself rigidly, terrified
where this was going, terrified to move and break this unraveling
of...what?

"Men have filled libraries with inadequate words of explanation
for the love that a man can feel for another man. I know that love
is returned in full measure. And I also know you share such a love
with him. And that it is returned in full measure.

"I lied when we first met, I knew you were a woman, but one does
not always grasp the larger picture when it is given in small
pieces. Fox is an eloquent writer. Does he ever write to you?"

Scully shook her head "No...yes, emails...reports, work..."

"Of course, but it is such a pity, for he has the soul of a great
poet."

As she sat listening Scully recalled times when Mulder's
conclusions were more spiritual longings than a footnote to a
standard FBI report. She lifted her lower lip in a small smile of
understanding.

"Ah," Dale smiled as watched Scully's face "I see you understand.
We exchange emails as little as two or three times each year, but
on occasion, daily. And as I sat and read through this
correspondence of these last twelve years, every logical piece in
me declaring you must both be dead, I watched a man lifted to the
heights of passion and plummeted to black depths beyond which I
despaired he would ever rise.

"Then one day a small spark entered his life. I did not notice it
at first, because it seemed quickly snuffed and I watched him fall
again into an abyss I can only see, never experience. I do not
think my sanity would hold, to fall into such darkness. All I
could do is reach out my hand and pray he may take hold and hang
on until the abyss released him once again.

"On that black Christmas night, I realised for the first time that
although I may have held him while he foundered, it was you who
selflessly pulled him free."

<You saved me, a thousand times over...I owe you everything ...
Scully, and you owe me nothing.>

Dana Scully tried to hide from the memory of his words.

"I really do not know why I had not seen it before, except perhaps
that I had compressed twelve years into one night. I had never met
you before. I did not realise you were not just his anchor, you
were a part of his very soul..."

<You've made me a whole person> Mulder's voice returned
unbidden into her mind.

"But Dana, you are a women. And a man's love for a woman can move
the universe. I should have seen it before and I kick myself for
being a fool and kissing you on Christmas Eve. But I saw in you a
hunger and had convinced myself that if Fox would not satiate it,
then why not I?"

Scully pulled her eyes from him, embarrassed and starting to get
seriously angry. But he pulled his glove from his hand and brought
her chin to face him. His eyes seemed bright and clear, too bright
and it suddenly struck her what risks he was taking.

"Dana, I adore women. All women. I fall in love weekly, monthly
and I have truly loved every one of them. I will never marry, I
cannot sire children and young Arthur, Helen's oldest, with likely
be the next Lord of Castle Lochmead. It's really for the best
because I would never have made a good husband, there are just too
many beautiful women out there and I lack all self control." He
smiled in genuine delight "And I count many to be good and dear
friends so I shall never be lonely in my dotage.

"But Fox is quite different. His passion is of singular dimension.
When he loves there can be no other. He has been hurt far too
often by shallow women who sought to use him for their own twisted
pleasures. I believe you even met one, perhaps the worst, Phoebe,
mind fucker extraordinaire," Dale's unexpected obscenity was
almost like a physical blow and Scully jerked.

"Ah, I apologise, it leaves a bad taste in one's mouth but sadly
that is really the only term for one such as her.

"I had hoped more from Diana, but she was simply a woman, paling
to thin nothingness against the light you have brought him. And I
saw in his letters that as he came to look upon your brightness
and bathe in its warmth, you both traveled the same road. And that
allowed his passion, his obsession to find his sister, to find the
truth, to roam freely, always returning into your warmth and
making himself whole again."

<you make me whole>

"Without you, he is a shell and I do not doubt he would one day
fall into the abyss and never return.

<I don't know if I want to do this alone... I don't even know
if I can ...>

"But for all of that he is like a fearful child. His adoration of
you is such that he dare not sully it with something as mundane as
mere sex. Such momentary passions can be relieved in other ways.
And he thumbs his nose at the world and himself and indulges in
harmless videos and magazines." Dale stopped and looked down,
almost fearful to go on, but he knew he must finish this.

"He loves you and I know, not by word, but by watching you, that
he fears to break the bonds that restrain your human needs. He
fears allowing that love to manifest itself in the ultimate
bonding between a man and a woman. He is terrified it would rob
you both of something far greater. Do not mistake that for
weakness, for every day he fights that battle in him and every day
he does not touch your core, he wins. I can only guess at the
strength within him, what power it must take to love someone so
much that you would deny yourself of them.

"And I would not tell you this unless I see the same thing in your
eyes. You fight that same battle very day and with your strength,
the strength that sustains him in every way, you are equally the
victor.

"Yet I see both your victories as sad ashes."

Scully pulled back, angry now, pushing aside what this man had
said. He had no right to say that, who the hell did he think he
was? He was totally wrong! Yes, she admitted to herself, she
physically desired him, on occasion. But it was her body betraying
her, it had nothing to do with her personally and nothing to do
with his feelings, or lack of them.

<you make me a whole person> another image of him in a
hospital bed, a little boy wondrous look on his face <I love
you>.

No! Scully pulled herself blindly from the sleigh and began
running away from Dale, running from Mulder, running from herself.
If she could just run long enough she could leave it all behind
and they would go on as they always had.

His long legs caught her quickly, but she lashed out and knocked
him backwards. He had not considered her training, so the fall
came quickly and he gashed his head on a rock as he fell. Scully
looked back in horror at the blood on the snow and immediately
rushed to his side. Dale was already trying to stand, wincing more
in surprise than pain. Scully pulled out her handkerchief and with
tears running freely down her face, pressed it against the wound.

"Dear Lady, can I employ you as my bodyguard?" Scully sighed at
his irreverence then he added "There is no longer doubt in my mind
where that gash on Fox's eye came from. Do you always fight like
this? If so I fear for my good friend's life!"

"Let me have a look at it."

Refreshingly, unlike Mulder, he leaned forward without protest.

"It only stings, I will live, but the question is, will you?"

Scully gulped back her tears and clinically examined the wound. It
really was minor, a nick that had already stopped bleeding.

"Dana, you may not find it in your heart to forgive me, but if you
listen to nothing more I have to say, at least hear this. My words
change nothing between you and Fox, they simply change your level
of awareness. I beg of you, if you do not act on that awareness by
opening your love for each other, then equally do not act on the
knowledge by leaving him, for fear of that love. I only hope you
have the greater strength to tear down the walls that separate
you."

Dale stood, gently pushing her administering hands away, then
clasping one he walked them back to the sleigh.

Scully hadn't realised how dark it was getting. She still wanted
to run away and hide, hide from herself, hide from his words and
most of all, hide from Mulder. She was stony silent all the way
back to the castle.

It was fully dark by the time they passed the gates. A liveryman
took control of the team and Dale helped Scully from the sleigh.
To all outward appearances Scully was calm and impassive. Inwardly
she was shutting down, pulling the walls around her, protecting
her emotionally safe existence with familiar and sturdy
barricades. Nothing has changed, nothing at all. Dale
was...mistaken.

CHAPTER 23
LOCHMEADE CASTLE NORTHERN ENGLAND
3Oth DECEMBER 1999

Mulder smiled in relief as Scully entered their rooms to change
for dinner.

The children had told him Dale had taken his partner for a sleigh
ride, but as the dark began to encroach, he felt himself
panicking. Scully could overcome Dale in a second if she had
been...called.

"How was Edinburgh?" Scully asked him, still unsettled by Dale's
words.

"Just as bad as London." He answered grimly. "They have no idea
what they are dealing with. Did you get on to anyone else while I
was gone?"

"Word is getting around. In forty eight hours it will mostly be
over. Once that clock hits midnight around the planet, the worst
of the cults should die off and we can determine if these
incidences are really related."

Mulder stood with his hands on his hips. Jesus, she was really
starting to convince herself it all boiled down to Millennium
fever. Leave it alone, Mulder. She's right. In less than two days
the entire planet would be in the year 2000 and all they'd have to
worry about were Y2K problems.

Yeah, sure, whatever.

"Okay, Scully, lets make it an early night. It's party time
tomorrow and you better get some beauty sleep if you expect me to
give you a New Year's Eve kiss." He waited for a comeback on that
but to his surprise, Scully's scowl only deepened.

"You okay Scully?"

"Sure, I'm fine Mulder." Scully picked up her coat and walked to
the door, hardly noticing Maurice as she left.

Over the family dinner, the tale of the fairies and Maurice the
ghost cat was bantered back and forth. Dale glanced at Scully
every now and then, almost regretting what he'd revealed that
afternoon. But she seemed unperturbed, treating everyone with the
same easygoing way he had come to enjoy. She had become the center
of attention when everyone realised Maurice had decided to 'haunt'
her, but she seemed to take it all in good humor. He made certain
her glass was always full, hoping the wine might ease the heavy
burden of her spirit. Like the rest of the family, they retired
early in order to be fresh for the huge New Year's party to be
held at the castle the following eve.


In that strange time known as the witching hour, Scully awoke. She
was still a little high from the wine. Not drunk, but...or maybe
it was something else. She reached across to the dresser and felt
for the small jewelry box and pulled it to her in the darkness.
Turning the open box back and forth allowed the small jewels to
catch a fragment of starlight from outside. Her mind still blocked
the words Dale spoke, but as her fingers traced the earrings the
walls began to crumble.

<You made me whole>

Her mind cast back to the night in hospital when she was close to
death from her cancer. The night Mulder came in and lay his head
on her arm and grieved. For himself, for her, for their lives. He
thought she had slept and in truth, she was so drugged it seemed
like a dream. But he had told her he had come, told her he was
lost but then he found his way, and she remembered. And she knew.

All these years she had known and pushed it aside.

All these years they had fought each other, two poles separated
from each other by her science and his ideology.

Two powerful forces balancing each other.

Yin and yang, perfectly fitted to one another.

<You made me a whole person>

Her fingers rubbed across the jewels and she suddenly found
herself sitting, replacing the studs in her ears with the
sapphires.

It was the wine, of course.

She got out of bed and walked into the sitting room but
unexpectedly found herself by Mulder's bed, watching him sleep.
His hair was tussled like a little boy's, his arm thrown back, the
heavier sounds of sleep coming from him. He had shaved that
morning but there was a shadow across his jaw line.

Her flesh tingled in memory of his roughness of cheek on those
rare occasions that he kissed her, and on a recent morning waking
in his arms. Scully smiled and leaned over to brush the hair from
his eyes. She had never admitted it before but he had amazingly
sensual eyes, bedroom eyes.

Suddenly she pulled back, realising those eyes were watching her.

"Scully?" he whispered softly. "What's wrong?" he sat, expecting
the worst.

"No..nothing, I just thought I heard.." Scully gulped, what the
hell did she think she was doing? "Nothing, it's all right, just
my imagination." She backed away as he got out of bed.

Mulder was about to ask if she felt she had to leave, if she was
all right but he knew the answer to that question. Hell, if she
was hanging off a cliff with one fingernail she'd still be saying
'I'm fine, Mulder.' rather than impose herself on him, always
protecting him from her pains, for was he not burdened enough with
his own?

"Scully, what is it, what's wrong?" More concerned now.

"Nothing is wrong!" She answered defensively and fled from the
room. She wanted to run back to her bed and hide under the covers
but the walls of her carefully nurtured strength began to build
again. Hiding under covers in the dark was not Scully, it was
weakness. Instead she sought the light of the fire, staring at it
mesmerised, willing it to forge the steel of her walls.

<I love you>

No! He was under medication, high as a kite! Build the walls,
quickly Dana!

Mulder frowned, Scully almost never came to him, needing him.
Scully was the strong one. Her strength carried him and he,
selfish bastard that he was, had turned his back on her a dozen
times, knowing she would find him and pick up the pieces when he
fell apart. Oh sure, he was a great help when she in a coma, or
unconscious, when he would cry on her bed and crawl into his own
self pity. Just this once he wanted to be there for her when she
had her own private nightmares.

Mulder followed her out into the sitting room and put his hands on
her shoulders. "Scully? Bad dreams or you just trying to get into
my bed?" He felt her stiffen. Something must really be wrong. She
never baited that easily.

Too sensitised to reply she shook her head, but he turned her to
face him, wrapped his arms around her and tucked her head under
his chin. At least he could hold her until the nightmare crawled
back down its hole. Mulder expected her to push him away but after
a few minutes when she didn't, he worried that something was
seriously wrong. He placed his hands on her cheeks and turned her
face upwards, knowing her eyes would tell him. Mulder felt the
slight sharpness of earrings against his palms and moved his hand
to tuck her hair behind her ear. The sapphires and red gold
gleamed in the dull warm light. The color matched her hair
perfectly and the dark blue reflected the fire, as did her
haunted, equally blue eyes.

Built the walls Dana, build the walls!

<I owe you everything Scully, you owe me nothing!>

<you made me a whole person>

<I love you>

"Mulder, I'm sorry, I can't go on like this."

In that moment he understood the look of sorrow and longing in her
eyes and knew. It was not the stress of waiting, it was something
far more profound. To his utter shame his body responded in pure
arousal.

Her tear streaked face changed and she gasped as she felt him grow
against her.

God, how had he let this happen! Mulder had developed a finely
tuned skill of keeping himself under control in her presence. He
spent half his life slightly aroused by her presence. He had
learned to enjoy it, without letting it overcome him. He almost
lost it on the dance floor a week back, but he'd scraped by. Then
the damned latex gloves had let him down. Shit.

Mulder let her go instantly but it was too late to hide what had
happened, "I'm sorry, you shouldn't wake a guy up in the middle of
the night looking like that."

Scully, unaware that she was dressed only in panties and short
tank top, had already knocked his arms from her shoulders. His eye
caught a flash of her wrists as it came up and instinctively he
grabbed at them, defending himself from her expected blow. He
captured her right one, but her left arm punched against his still
tender right hand and created a short, but very sharp pain. He
opened his mouth and gasped, screwing his face at the unexpected
sting.

She immediately grabbed his right hand in a gentle grasp. Her face
crumpled a little "I'm so sorry, Mulder." And she held his hand to
her cheek while her lips caressed his still swollen knuckles.

Her eyes never left his, but in his peripheral vision her rich
hair was hallowed in bronze by the firelight. Her tank top had
slipped off one shoulder and her warm lips caressed his hand. She
put every erotic picture he'd even seen to shame.

Scully felt his breathing go ragged. The other changes in his body
were inescapable.

<I only hope you have the greater strength to tear down the
walls that separate you.>

Did she have that strength?

Mulder was biting the inside of his lower lip, willing the pain to
bring some control over his quivering body. His face was inches
from hers, all he had to do was...

She leaned up and kissed the place where his lips met his cheek
and she felt his body shudder, his breathing become yet more
ragged.

Scully was no tease, he thought, so just what the hell was she
playing at? But then she moved his hand so that his fingers were
running across her wet lips and tongue.

He nearly exploded on the spot at the eroticism of her movements.

He became aware that he still gripped her right wrist. He let it
go and felt his arm slide behind her, across bare flesh.

He could smell the warmth of her breath, her woman scent.

How many atoms between what was and what could be?

How many universes must they traverse?

And the universe surprised itself and answered back 'no more.'

Scully's lips parted again and this time he watched the tip of her
pink tongue slowly, deliberately touch his finger. A jolt traveled
from his hand to his entire body and at last he fell.

It was not a gentle fall. It was not six years in the making, nor
even six lifetimes. They had come together, a hundred, a thousand
times before in an eternal dance of the souls. As sons and
daughters fathers and brothers, friends and companions, but in all
the lifetimes they had shared, never once before as lovers. This
was the first lifetime they had been equal man and woman in a time
and place that allowed the barriers of convention to be broken. In
that moment their souls knew their love was not transient for this
lifetime, but would last forever more.

Such fleeting awareness passed before mortal memory could store it
in their minds. But their souls knew it to be true and that
passion, once aroused, could no more be denied than the universe
stand still.

The mortal moment returned.

He snatched his fingers from her mouth and covered it with his
own, roughly, harshly, aroused beyond all human reason. With the
same blind passions with which he attacked life from the day he
was born, Fox Mulder embraced his partner.

Dana Scully had often reveled in his sheer size compared to her
diminutive stature, but now it took on an entirely different form.
He clutched her to him until it almost hurt. Yet all the while she
felt him ready to release her at the first sign of her hesitation.
For all the power with which he held her, his kiss was softness
and warmth embodied. Scully mentally cried at the contrast,
begging his tongue to penetrate her, but he pulled gently away,
teasing her lips, teasing her mouth, an exquisite foreplay of her
senses belying the roughness of his hands across her body.
Finally, she could stand no more, her own tongue found his lips
and he shuddered and finally gave of himself completely.

Their shadows danced in tune with the fire. The walls had been
destroyed and could never be rebuilt. Fox Mulder made love for the
first time in his life, for all that had gone before was
meaningless in the face of this.

Dana Scully opened herself, allowing what seemed a lifetime of
controls to come crashing down in the face of his overwhelming
passion, his reverence of her body, of her self. They worshipped
one another in the light of the fire, a release and then another,
an ongoing symphony of souls.

Finally they rested, warmed by inner fires that burned long after
the embers beside them died to glowing coals. Close to dawn now,
Mulder carried Scully to his bed. Easier now, more comfortable in
their needs, he made slow and fanciful love to her and she replied
in full. He reveled in her sensuality, hidden for so long behind
tight formality. She reveled at his surprising eroticism and sheer
sense of fun.

They slept, tangled limbs entwined, souls freed at last from self
imposed chains.

Outside, a thousand lights danced across the dawn sky.

Colonisation had begun.



The end.

Have I really dragged you all this way to have it end like this?
We....ll.. Yep!