Return the Hero by beduini Rating: A very solid R for adult content and language Category: X, MSR Keywords: X-File, Mythology, Mulder/Scully Spoilers: Up to but not including "Requiem" Archive: Please ask Disclaimer to the lawyers at Fox: As I understand copyright law, names can't be copyrighted. Fox William Mulder - I can say that. I can also say Dana Katherine Scully. However, a story based on a previously copyrighted work then becomes a derivative of that original work and therefore IS subject to copyright. Therefore, no copyright infringement is intended and no profit is being made by me from the use of this property. You want it? It's yours! Use it well. It's all for fun and my own personal edification. And perhaps the enjoyment of others. Return the Hero by beduini XxXxXxXxX Prologue When they took her, she was missing for three months. Mulder has been missing for five. Gone in the middle of the night. Little or no clothing packed, his bed unmade. No sign of a struggle or evidence that anyone had forced their way inside his apartment. No trace evidence, no prints except his own. None of his neighbors saw or heard anything. His identification, weapon and his cell phone remained on the nightstand where it was assumed he had deposited them upon retiring. They were now in her possession. The day he went missing she called every hospital in the DC metro area asking for a John Doe, spreading out to cover the entire states of Virginia, Maryland and Pennsylvania and eventually the entire Eastern Seaboard. She brought in the best sketch artist she knew to recreate Mulder's likeness from photos to accommodate fax machines and low-resolution printers and put out an all points bulletin. She used the resources available to her through the Bureau to remain in contact with news services and law enforcement agencies across the United States. When there was nothing more to be done she printed flyers, scouring likely public gathering places on weekends and distributing them to anyone who would take the time to look at them. "HAVE YOU SEEN THIS MAN?" dozens upon dozens of sheets of paper asked in red boldface type, photocopied in color and accompanied by his picture - the one on file at the Bureau - along with her name and cell phone number. She worked long hours and slept few. Near Ellens Air Force Base not even a week after he'd disappeared a driver stopping by the side of the road to relieve his bladder found a scrap of paper with the name Dana Scully scratched on it with a nearly dried out ballpoint pen. Along with her name were the words 'Federal Bureau of Investigation', an 'X' and 'Scully'. Always intrigued by the unusual, he stuck it in his jacket pocket and went on his way. Two days later he found the scrap of paper again while looking for coffee money and decided to call the FBI and ask for Dana Scully, just for kicks. It was Mulder's handwriting. She'd had it analyzed by the Bureau handwriting expert but there was nothing remarkable about the paper or the ink, other than the fact that the paper wasn't writing paper, but the consistency of tissue paper and widely used for a variety of purposes. She ordered a forensic team out to comb the area where the note was recovered but there was nothing more to be found. Standing by the side of the road and squinting up at the sky, she allowed the frustration to temporarily fill the overwhelming emptiness inside of her but her eyes remained dry. She would find him. There were few leads in the following weeks, and of those few none checked out. At the end of the first month Mulder's landlord called. She had previously arranged for Mulder's rent to be temporarily deducted from his security deposit, but what she hadn't known was that there was little security deposit left after the various incidents with gunshots, broken locks, holes drilled in the ceiling and the waterbed fiasco. She used what little savings she had left to bring him up to date for the month and cancelled his utilities, moving his fish tank to her apartment and having his phone number forwarded to hers. Assistant Director Skinner called her into his office the sixth week and gravely explained that at last word had come down to him from above. While the Justice Department was extremely sorry to have lost Agent Mulder, since he had not been working on a case unfortunately the nature of his disappearance didn't suggest that it was a work-related incident. Although she was free to use whatever resources and connections the FBI had to offer in her spare time, she would have to return to a regular caseload and cover any additional expenses she incurred in her search out of her own pocket. She listened stoically with the same ambiguous countenance that she'd displayed in his presence since Mulder went missing, and after she left his office Skinner wondered what happened to the woman whom had ripped into him four years ago when he told her that the investigation into the death of her sister had been closed. He understood that woman. At the very least that woman would have been silently seething. This woman scared the shit out of him. Skinner paid the rent on Mulder's apartment the second month. He took the elevator up to the fourth floor to check on the place and he found Scully surrounded by empty cardboard boxes on the floor of Mulder's living room, sobbing into her hands. She had been in that position for so long her muscles wouldn't support her slight frame when she tried to stand and he had to carry her over to the sofa, holding her against his chest like a child until she wept herself to sleep. He stayed with her. When she finally woke he called a local Chinese kitchen on his cell phone and had them deliver enough soup, noodles and vegetables for the both of them and he ordered her to eat. Then he asked her why she was there and agreed with her that Mulder's personal items would be safer with her than sitting in an empty apartment. Neither one of them mentioned the fact that it was becoming apparent that Mulder might be gone for a very long time. By candlelight they packed up everything except for the furniture, the rugs and the pictures on the walls. XxXxXxXxX Chapter One She was an excellent investigator, but ultimately she'd been sent back to Quantico as a pathologist. It was what the FBI needed and what she was specifically trained to do. It wasn't a teaching position, however - she worked strictly with the corpses, which suited her just fine. It takes one to know one. Her days were routine. She got out of bed at the same time, she performed her tasks, she drove home and began a long evening of calls to hospitals and police stations, looking for leads, looking for anything that might lead her to Mulder. Somewhere in there she ate, slept, bathed, exercised. And on the weekends she went out and looked for Mulder. Skinner still checked up on her. She was no longer under his supervision but he felt personally responsible for her and kept a close watch - from a distance, of course. They'd eventually had to let Mulder's apartment go, moving the remaining furnishings into a storage space in the garage of Skinner's complex. Mulder's office in the Hoover Building had been left untouched - the X-Files were closed temporarily, the fate of the Files to be determined at a later time. Since expenses weren't accruing and there was little use for or interest in the basement office the powers that be were satisfied with Skinner's recommendation to let it lay for the time being. And then over five and a half months after the note was found there was another lead. The call came from a small town in the Mojave Desert near the edge of Death Valley. A three-hour drive from Los Angeles and twenty miles from China Lake Naval Weapons Center, Trona was located next to Searles dry lake, its population supported mainly by the chemical mining facility on the lake bed. A local grocer claimed to have seen Mulder and another man purchasing staple items on two separate occasions. So Scully put in for a day of personal leave, stayed up into the wee hours of the morning researching the area on the Internet and cashed in frequent flyer miles for the Friday morning flight to Los Angeles. It was a dry, desolate place, the lack of seasonal rainfall coloring the desert in shades of brown and beige. There were strange red rock formations that Mulder would surely have claimed were extraterrestrial in origin. She missed his obvious 'lead foot' comments as she drove faster and faster through the desert, and by early afternoon she rounded the last bend in the road through unexpectedly rocky terrain. As she saw the community before her she was assaulted by the acrid smell of rotten eggs - the legacy of the chemical mining. The Mulder voice in her head had something appropriate to say to that as well. She traveled down the main road into the community of stark cinderblock buildings and pulled into the gravel parking lot of the K&H market. Covering her nose with a Kleenex, she stepped out of the car and was nearly knocked over by a strong gust of putrid wind. There was a grit in the air, irritating her already sleep-deprived eyes nearly as much as the smell aggravated her nose. By her estimation, it could have been a ghost town. There were few cars on the road and even fewer people to be seen. The grocery store was small and there was one clerk inside, a man of medium build who appeared to be in his early fifties. He was ringing up Popsicles for two young girls who had left their bicycles lying in the gravel outside. The clerk looked up at her as she entered and the girls giggled, unaccustomed to the more polite social graces when encountering strangers. On her right just next to the door was a bulletin board for community use. Among the announcements for free kittens and fast weight loss was a copy of the APB she'd sent out on Mulder, the one with the artists' rendering of his image. Although it was of poor quality from being faxed, printed and photocopied it still looked like him. "You say hello to your momma for me." The clerk said to the smaller of the two girls with a smile as he closed the drawer on the register. The girl nodded, giggling again as she passed by Scully, flashing her a shy smile. Scully smiled warmly at the girl, turning to watch her climb onto her bicycle and wondering how she'd manage to both eat her Popsicle and stay upright in the strong wind. Then she turned back toward the clerk. "Edward Sessing?" She asked. "You the gal from the FBI?" the clerk replied as he stepped around the counter with his arm outstretched. Scully pulled her badge out of the side pocket of her shoulder bag and held it up for him to see. "Yes, I'm Special Agent Dana Scully. I spoke with you on the telephone yesterday." She shook Mr. Sessing's hand and he smiled amicably, nodding as he looked at her badge. His hair was straight, dark blonde peppered with gray and when he looked from her identification to her face she saw that his eyes were a kindly blue. "We get Bureau folks in here from time to time, Agent Scully, have since the Sixties, though not so frequent anymore. The FBI likes to keep tabs on the family." Scully's brow furrowed a moment, not following him. "I'm sorry, 'the family'?" she said, tucking her ID back into her pocket. "Manson family. Still live out there on the desert, although there's not many of them left with Charlie and the other girls locked up for so long now. They pretty much stay to themselves. I've been around long enough to know most of them, though some of the younger ones, the kids, have moved away. We also get the naturalists, survivalists, the miners and the desert four-wheelers though here." He pointed to the bulletin board. "The men you're interested in didn't fit in any of those categories in my opinion." "You said on the phone that there were two men. Can you describe them to me?" Mr. Sessing leaned back against the counter, crossing his arms. "The one man, the one who looked like the fella you're looking for, he was about six foot, lanky but muscular. Brown hair and a prominent beak, but it didn't take away from his face. Nice looking." Scully felt her pulse speed up and she took a deep breath to slow it back down. "And the other man?" "Not as tall. Brown hair - nice looking as well. The other guy carried the food but this guy paid. He kept one hand in the pocket of his jacket the entire time he was in here. Didn't look me in the eye." "How were they dressed? Street clothes or outdoor gear?" He thought about the question. "I don't recall anything drawing my attention to their clothing specifically. Blue jeans and t-shirts, I think. Nothing too fancy. Like I said, they didn't look like survivalists. I asked where they were headed and the one guy, the one from the picture, he said they were headed up to Independence for a fishing trip, just stopped in for some supplies. It seemed a little strange at the time considering we're well off the beaten path. But they didn't buy anything unusual. Just the basics, you know, shampoo, bread, milk, sunflower seeds." Scully's stomach clenched involuntarily and she looked up at him. "Sunflower seeds?" He shrugged. "Gives you something to do on the lake while you're waiting to get a bite, I s'pose." She drew a breath and reached into her bag, pulling out an envelope containing several photos of Mulder in it, her hand slightly shaking but her voice even as she handed it to Mr. Sessing. "Is this the man you spoke with, Mr. Sessing?" Mr. Sessing studied the first photo, then flipped through the other ones, giving each a good perusal. Then he handed them back to her. "That's him." Scully felt all of the air rush from her lungs and she took a moment to get her breathing under control, pretending to take extra care in putting the photographs back into the envelope. When she looked up at Mr. Sessing he was looking at her with gentle compassion. "Was that the first time or the second time you saw him?" She asked, her voice steadier than she felt. "Second time. The first time was about two weeks before that." "And the last time was..." "Two weeks ago yesterday." Scully nodded. An eye-witness confirmation that Mulder was still alive as of two weeks ago. "Is there anything else that you can remember, Mr. Sessing?" His brow furrowed as he thought about it. "Well, there was something else a little strange, but it didn't have anything to do with those two." She looked at him with partial interest, her mind working on the information she'd received about Mulder. "What was it?" "'Bout five months ago a couple of white tanker trucks came through here, along with a moving van sized white truck. Plain white, unmarked." This made her look up, giving him her full attention. "Now that in itself isn't so unusual - we get movie companies up from Los Angeles from time to time, although we're pretty far up for that. They stopped up at the Desert Rose for the night - the manager up there is a buddy of mine. But these weren't movie folks. There were five men, doctor types, I think. They were wearing those white coats...you know, lab coats. They had another guy stand sentry over the trucks all night. They got up early the next morning and left. Paid in cash." She drew in a shaky breath and let it out slowly. "Is your friend on duty now, Mr. Sessing?" He looked at his wristwatch. "Should be. You want me to call over and let him know you'll be stopping by?" She gave him a polite smile. "That would be great, thank you." She turned to leave and his voice stopped her. "This man you're looking for. He's a friend of yours?" his words were more of a confirmation than a question. She turned back and looked at him. "He's my partner." Within her statement her voice contained all of the emotions simmering beneath the surface and he nodded at her, a look of understanding on his face. Then she walked slowly to her rental car, squinting in the wind. Doctors, unmarked tanker trucks. She didn't care about the smell anymore. XxXxXxXxX Desert Rose Motel, Lobby Mike Moreno ran the Desert Rose Motel from two to midnight and had just started his shift when his friend Eddie called and gave him the heads up about a little redheaded FBI agent who was looking for her missing partner and wanted to ask him a few questions about the white tanker trucks. Damned if he wasn't smitten ten minutes later as she stood before him, her baby blues scrutinizing for signs of untruthfulness as he answered her questions. 'Yes, I'm sure they were doctors, at least they called each other Doctor This or That. No, they paid in cash. Yes, the rooms have been cleaned. No, I don't know where they were headed. No, I've never seen the man in the photograph.' She let out a tired sigh and asked if he had any rooms available, like there would be a run on motel rooms in Trona. They weren't exactly at the top of the California Convention and Visitor Bureau's list of convention and meeting planning sites. He ran a pretty clean establishment but he couldn't imagine a beautiful woman like that sleeping in one of his motel beds. 'Why not drive over to Ridgecrest and get yourself a nice room at the Heritage Inn?' he'd suggested. The Heritage was about the nicest place in the area. A couple of pretty decent restaurants in Ridgecrest, too. They even had a Denny's. Of course, he didn't eat there - one of his ex-wives started working there six months ago. At his suggestion, she'd just raised her exquisite eyebrow at him and handed him her credit card. Citibank. She was paying out of her own pocket and he wondered at the way the Federal Government worked. That a pretty little FBI agent looking for her lost partner had to pay for a cheap motel room while those fat farts over at the NWC flew back and forth to Washington DC six times a year to talk about funding. He charged her half the going rate and put her in unit one with the newest furnishings. XxXxXxXxX Desert Rose Motel, Unit One It wasn't as bad as she was led to believe, Scully thought, sitting down on the full-sized bed. Inside the smell wasn't so strong. The bed was firm, the room was clean and the linens weren't threadbare or stained. Her body felt gritty and heavy with fatigue as she scooted back on the bed until she was lying across it. Kicking her shoes off she blew out a long, slow breath of air and closed her eyes. Mulder was alive. It was a sure bet that he was somewhere near those unmarked tanker trucks. Why hadn't he contacted her? He wasn't alone. He was with someone - someone who sounded a lot like Alex Krycek. Was he being held against his will? Sessing had mentioned that the man with him kept his hand in his pocket the entire time they were in the market. He had a gun, possibly. Probably. But Mulder was alive. She rolled over on to her side, pulling her legs up and resting her head on the inside of her arm like a pillow. How quickly he had gone, leaving her with what felt like only half of herself, taking with him the part that seemed to be the most vital. At first she thought she would go crazy from worry after the first week without him. What a strange lesson it was to learn how completely co-dependent she had become. Now it had been five months and she was nearly giddy with the knowledge that as of two weeks ago, two short weeks go, Mulder was alive. Mulder was seen alive two weeks ago. Mulder IS alive, she told herself. Just two weeks, her mind repeated over and over. Two weeks. XxXxXxXxX Desert Rose Motel, Unit One She could no longer detect the stench in the air when she awoke stretched across the top of the bed. She could see the small particles of dust floating in the faint sunlight coming in through the drapes flanking the window next to the door and she yawned, rising up on one elbow and looking down at her wristwatch. She had fallen asleep in the early afternoon and had slept straight through until...5:37 a.m., her Indiglo told her. She'd lost the better part of an afternoon and the entire evening. She'd dreamt about Mulder. It wasn't completely unusual but it was something that happened more and more frequently in the five months he'd been missing. This time it was a routine case that they were working on, debating an issue like they did so often in the past. It felt normal to be riding in a car with him as if it were just another case - as if nothing had happened. Sometimes in other dreams she dreamt that they were arguing and woke up angry with him. Before Mulder's disappearance she would go into the office still wearing an attitude and he would eventually wring the story out of her, then tease her with a gleam in his eyes. 'Not the kind of dreams I'd hoped you'd be having about me,' he'd quip with a smirk. Sometimes she dreamt of more intimate encounters, enflaming her with whispers, soft laughter and feather-light caresses that left her aching. Their relationship had slowly begun to take a much more private turn just before he'd disappeared. She slid off of the bed and made her way into the small bathroom, turning on the hot water under the showerhead with a sigh. Since he had gone she'd learned that Mulder had occupied so many places within her that she was still discovering new ways to hurt over his absence. She alternately wanted to pummel him for insinuating himself so thoroughly inside of her soul and hold on to him as tightly as her strength would allow. And now...well, she just wanted him alive and unscathed. She just wanted him to come home. XxXxXxXxX Inyokern Airport By seven-thirty she was standing in the cool morning breeze on the tarmac at Inyokern Airport negotiating a price with Chuck Aronson, the pilot and owner of a Cessna 150 who was willing to take her out over the desert for a bird's eye view of the surrounding area. He carried a long silver thermos under his arm as she followed him into the airport office, waiting while he filled in his logbook. "The only time I have to fly is on weekends so it's important to me to get my flight hours logged in," he told her over his shoulder as he wrote, making small talk. He was close to her age, with curly dark hair, a slight build and impossibly slim hips for a grown man. He stopped a moment, reaching for the thermos and unscrewing the top, pouring the steaming liquid into the thermos cup and holding it out to her. She accepted the coffee with a slight smile of gratitude. "Do you work in the area, Mr. Aronson?" Her eyebrows raised with the question as she took a sip of the coffee. "Chuck is fine." He grinned, pouring coffee into an oversized black travel mug that had the red star Texaco logo on it. "Yes, I'm an engineer...flying is just my hobby," he grinned. "I guess you could say it's my first love." She gave him a closed-lipped smile, taking another sip of coffee. Now she understood why he was willing to fly her for little more than the price of fuel. He moved the flight book back to its proper place and handed her the thermos before picking up his travel mug. "I just have a few things to do to the plane before we can take off. You can stay in here if you'd rather stay out of the wind." Even though the wind didn't stink like it did in Trona she accepted his suggestion and stayed inside, helping herself to another cup of coffee as he performed the necessary safety checks. When he was ready he waved her out to the plane, helping her climb up into the passenger seat of the cockpit. There was a deafening noise above as if the sky were splitting in half and she reacted with surprise, looking up at the sky. "F-18," Chuck said as he climbed in beside her. "I haven't heard that sound in years," she said absently. When she turned back toward Chuck he was looking at her with curiosity. "My Dad was a Naval Captain," she explained, "we lived at Miramar for a while. I used to wake up to a sound very similar to that one." He nodded. "I know exactly what you're talking about. I grew up right here in Ridgecrest." "So you know the area." "So I know the area." He confirmed, his voice taking a more conversational tone. "What specifically are we looking for today, Dana?" he asked, belting himself in. She hesitated before responding. "Unmarked white trucks. Tanker trucks." A puzzled look crossed his face and was gone just as quickly. "On the desert?" She glanced up at him in affirmation. He shrugged. "Okay then...let's go find those trucks." XxXxXxXxX The desert from above was beautiful. There were multitudes of colors to be seen in the round, scrub-covered desert hills besides brown and beige; green, gold, orange, red. The hum of the Cessna's engine made it difficult to hold a regular conversation so they were silent as Chuck steered the plane south, making a wide loop around the Naval Weapons Center before heading east toward Trona. She could see everything from her vantage point - small patches of green that were trees, places where people had set up homes, some houses, some trailers. Abandoned automobiles and corralled livestock. As they traveled farther the Trona Pinnacles came into view in the distance, their red peaks reminding her once again of a likely, X-rated quip Mulder would make were he with her. As they approached Chuck steered the plane to the north, away from Searles dry lake and toward an area that contained larger, more rockier hills. Ahead to the right there was a concentration of dark green tree tops surrounding what appeared to be a small pond. It looked like a desert oasis minus the camels. "What is it?" Scully asked above the engine. "That's the Trona pool," Chuck replied, grinning at her raised eyebrow. "It used to be a reservoir but they turned it into a public pool. Salt water." The sun was beginning to rise in the sky, making it difficult for them to see the terrain from the glare off of the windshield. Chuck turned the plane to the right to cut down on the glare and pointed ahead. "Just east of the pool over there...do you see the rocky terrain in the distance? There's an abandoned gold mine over there," Chuck shouted. There was a glint, like metal, and Scully sat up to try to get a better look. "What do you suppose it is?" she asked, still trying to see. "Hard to say. Could be a car - people have been known to try their hand at mining for treasure. Or teenagers, maybe, looking for a makeout spot. The mine isn't sealed so anyone could go in there." Anyone, she thought, wondering what tragedy would have to unfold to get someone to seal up the entrance to the mine. There was another bright flash and Chuck turned the plane further to the right, heading directly toward the mine and the source of the flash. This cut the glare down further and in the distance they could see the source. Two white tankers and a large, unmarked moving truck. XxXxXxXxX Chapter Two It was impossibly slow driving back to Trona from the Inyokern airport. She wished she'd had the foresight to hire a helicopter instead of a plane so they might have landed right there on the desert. Instead, they made their way back to the airport only for her to have to endure the long drive back to Trona. There hadn't been any helicopters for hire, anyway. When she finally reached Trona the sun was already high in the sky. Half of the morning was wasted just driving to and from the airport and she felt she was fighting the clock, losing valuable time that could be better spent looking for Mulder. From the ground perspective everything looked different and she didn't know which dirt road to take or how to reach the mine from the main road. In need of someone who knew the area, she doubled back to the motel to ask Mike Moreno for a map or detailed directions. It was no secret around town that Mike had a soft spot for the ladies - especially the strong-willed, independent kind. Mike wasn't conventionally attractive, nor did he possess more than an average intelligence, but he had been graced with large, soulful brown eyes that never failed to win a woman's confidence when he wanted a little company. His sincerity was genuine - even after three wives and numerous girlfriends he was willing to dive head first into a woman's outstretched arms. So when Agent Scully with the titan hair and amazing eyes asked a few intriguing questions about the old mine he found himself offering to drive her out there himself. She accepted with hesitation and within half an hour they were pulling onto a dirt road within visual distance of the pool oasis she had seen from the air. The road was riddled with potholes and threw up a cloud of dust behind them as the rental car proved it wasn't designed for off-road purposes. The ride had been mostly silent. Mike wanted to ask about her partner and why she thought he might be at the old mine but he wasn't sure how to broach the subject, and Scully was trying to endure her impatience and the growing feeling on unease about what she might discover once she got there. She had been thinking about the trucks and what they might mean to Mulder's disappearance since the moment she spotted them from the air. Seeing them sent a chill through her that reminded her of corn fields and bees and Antarctica. Add doctors to the equation and her mind immediately leaped to train cars, Cassandra Spender's eventual fate and her vague memories from her own abduction. SOMETHING was out there and she had a strong feeling that whatever it was, she had indeed found what had kept Mulder away for six months. She could only conclude that either he was being held against his will, or if it was of his own accord then he had a very good reason for keeping her out of it. Her physical or emotional safety was the most compelling reason that came immediately to mind when she considered what that reason might be. It was not like Mulder to be duplicitous so it was the only theory she could compose that made any sense of his sudden disappearance and continued silence. As much as she hated the idea of Mulder looking for answers independent of her, she preferred it to the alternative. The rise in the landscape that wasn't really big enough to be called a mountain was far ahead and it took them another half hour to get close to it. They crossed through several fenced sections but as Mike brought the car to a halt in front of a large chain-link, padlocked gate she knew that this was not a farmer's attempt to keep cattle from wandering out to the highway. 'NO TRESPASSING - U.S. GOVERNMENT PROPERTY' proclaimed the area off- limits. Mike looked at her with a 'now what?' expression as she got out of the car and stomped over to the lock, wrapping her fingers around it and giving it a tug as if there were a possibility it might be unlocked. This was a familiar situation for her. The lock didn't budge and Scully put her hands on her hips, looking out past the fence to the mountain and what she knew lay beyond. "Is there another way?" she asked, turning to face him as he stepped out of the car. "No," he replied, scratching the back of his neck. "This isn't federal government land, though." She watched his face, crossing her arms in front of her. "It isn't?" Her response was posed more as a statement than a question. "No." He shifted his weight from foot to foot and crossed his arms, too. "I could be wrong, but I don't think so. This land belongs to the state." She let out a long huff and turned back toward the fence. Common sense told her to turn around and go back to town. Make some calls, find out who put up the fence and why. But she already had a good idea about the why. And Mulder may be in there in need of her help. Her fingers wrapped around the chain link of the fence and she looked up to the barbed wire threaded top, assessing it. Taking a deep breath she hoisted herself up, steadily climbing to the top. Mike's mouth fell open and he muttered an awestruck, "shit" before rushing over to help her. She was already on top navigating her way through the barbed wire and he stared at her with wide-eyed admiration, wondering how much consideration she had given to her high heeled shoes and fancy business suit before deciding to take on that daunting mess of chain link and wire. A moment later she dropped to the ground, a small puff of dirt surrounding her and she brushed it off of the sleeves and front of her jacket. After all that there wasn't a scratch on her. "How far from the mine do you think we are?" she asked him through the chain link. "A mile, maybe two. Look, you sure you want to do this? I mean, by yourself? There's, you know," he looked out over the desert, shifting uncomfortably, "snakes and shit out there." She drew in and let out a long breath, looking out over the desert before replying softly, almost apologetically, "my partner may be out there." She turned back toward him and one minute he was looking into her azure eyes, seeing her determination and need for answers. The next minute he was hoisting himself up the fence as she had done. He got hung up at the top in the barbed wire, scratching his arm and catching his sleeve and swearing under his breath. To his relief she had turned away, looking out over the desert once more, seemingly oblivious to his bumbled execution of the simple act of trespassing. There was a tearing noise as he dropped to the ground, and he looked at the torn sleeve of his T-shirt, examining the scratch on his arm deep enough to draw blood. She glanced up at him with her eyebrows raised, and stepped closer, reaching out and taking his arm deftly but gently. His heart pounded as she looked at the scratch with a scrutinizing eye. "It's not a deep scratch but it should be cleaned and disinfected just the same," she said with comfortable authority. "Is your tetanus vaccination current?" "I dunno, I think so." "Remind me when we get back to town." Without another word she turned and started walking. He followed, catching up to her but staying one step behind. "What do you think is going on out there?" he asked at last, his curiosity and her silence getting the best of him. "I don't know," she answered truthfully. "Tests, I think." He waited for her elaborate, and when she didn't he asked, "what kind of tests?" She was silent for a few yards. "Medical experimentation." He squinted at her. "In the mine?" His response was incredulous. "No." She wore a look of extreme focus on her face, her shoulders held straight and her stride determined. He studied it as he plodded along next to her, finding it a little taxing trying to keep up with her. "What's that got to do with your partner?" He was sorry he asked when he saw her break her stride, her shoulders slumping slightly. "Nothing," she replied, then added under her breath, "hopefully." The went on in silence for another quarter of a mile, the sweat beading on Mike's brow. He knew he was out of shape but she was wearing a suit and wasn't even breaking a sweat. Women don't sweat, they perspire, he reminded himself. Looking up at the sky and wiping his forehead with the back of his hand, he was grateful that at least it wasn't the full-on heat of summer. XxXxXxXxX She knew she was taking a great risk approaching an unknown situation without cover or backup in the bright light of day. Coming in on foot had its advantages, though - the sounds of an automobile and the cloud of dirt kicked up behind it would surely have given away her approach. At least this way she was fairly unobtrusive. As they trudged through the desert she'd been thinking...when she'd gone off with C.G.B. Spender without Mulder before he disappeared, Spender had told her that his life's work lay in ruin...and she had believed him. Had believed his claims that he had access to the science, the technology that would cure the human race of all disease. He had alluded to the small chip in her neck and the role it played in the remission of her cancer just three short years ago. She had believed it. He lied, of course. Mulder knew when she returned from her meeting with Spender, the miraculous disk in hand that the disk would prove to be fake. It was in the slant of his shoulders, the tightness of his jaw, the way he wouldn't look her in the eye. But she had believed Spender. Had he lied about the status of his life's work as well? Was someone still trying to create a genetic hybrid that was both human and alien? And was Mulder involved? They had experimented on him just a year ago, had taken him and violated his mind, his body - like they had taken and violated hers five years before him. What atrocities might they have imposed upon him this time? She kicked at a small rock in her path and let out a sigh. Like Mulder might have done, she was looking for the offbeat answer, taking the less-traveled road. With everything that they had seen and learned about planned colonization, genetic engineering, cloning and hybridization, it was not a far stretch of the imagination to assume Mulder's disappearance lead right back there. The problem was, she didn't know what was a lie and what was the truth. The only thing she'd ever been able to believe in with certainty was Mulder. And he wasn't available. XxXxXxXxX Finally they started to make their way up an incline, the ground beneath her feet becoming much rockier with pieces of flat, gray shale. A few yards behind her Mike was breathing heavily through his mouth, and other than his wheezing the silence was almost disturbing. The road they had been following took a turn to the right up ahead and she stopped, scanning the mountain in front of her for movement or signs of electronic surveillance. Mike stopped beside her, leaning over and resting his palms on his knees while he gasped for air. "The mine is just around that bend," he said, pointing to where the road turned. That meant that the trucks she had seen earlier, if they were still there, would be just around that bend as well. She reached behind her and pulled out her weapon, hearing Mike mutter a bewildered "shit" once more but not bothering to turn around and address his surprise. She let him catch his breath and then moved ahead slowly. "Keep your eyes open," she told him, still scanning for anything unusual. As they rounded the bend the cab of one of the tanker trucks came into view, the sun shining off of the windshield and catching her off guard temporarily. She squinted and held her hand up as a shield, wishing she'd brought her sunglasses and moving cautiously ahead. There appeared to be no movement, no signs of anybody near the cab and no audible sounds. The cab of the second truck came into view just beyond the first one and she crouched down, looking between the wheels for any visible body. Seeing no one, she slowly stood and edged forward until both trucks were in full view. The trucks were about fifty yards ahead and she sprinted to the front wheel of the first truck, crouching down beside it before turning to wave Mike over. He copied her action and crouched down next to her, waiting for her to make the next move. She peered in through the passenger side window and noted that the keys were still hanging in the ignition. Mike was staring at the actual tank of the truck and he muttered, "weird" with a shake of his head. "What?" she asked, keeping her voice to a mere whisper and following his line of vision. He turned his face toward hers. "Why would they put a door on the side of a milk truck?" She let out a long breath and replied, "because it's not a milk truck." Moving forward very slowly, she edged her way along the truck until she reached the door. Carefully pulling herself up the suspended steps, she placed her ear against the door and listened for sounds from within. Hearing nothing, she looked over at Mike and mouthed 'stay down', waiting for his nod of affirmation before flipping the safety off of her weapon. She slowly turned the handle to the door, and when she didn't get any resistance, silently counted to three before pulling the door open and training her gun on the opening. Seeing no one, she stepped inside and covered the right and the left before realizing that the truck was uninhabited. It wasn't empty, though. What she saw made her lips part in awe. Lowering her weapon, she stepped into the center of the room. It was a state-of-the-art medical facility. Cutting edge, she determined from the look of it. All of the newest monitoring equipment and a crash cart were the items she could identify. The rest was unknown to her as she'd never seen them before and wasn't seeing them in use now. There was a stainless steel table in the middle of the room - an operating table with restraints and stirrups. Cabinets lined either side, labeled with the names of instruments, medical supplies and pharmaceuticals. She caught her breath. The layout and appearance were similar to those in the brief flashes of memory that came to her following her abduction. Although it had been six years, she closed her eyes to the painful reminders that came unbidden to the forefront of her mind - the doctors, the equipment, the pain...the pain. She still remembered the horror like a fresh nightmare than she had just awakened from. Although the dreams came to her very rarely now, the intensity with which she recalled the pain still shook her. The human body had an amazing capacity for forgetting pain, and for her mind to cling to that memory with such acuity gave her reason to believe that the experience was something that could not be quantified in human words or terms. Swallowing the lump rising in her throat, she scanned the table and floor for signs of recent surgical activity - like blood or tissue. There was nothing visible and she knew without looking any further that whatever may have taken place in this room, all evidence had been removed even before it had been cleaned thoroughly. She stepped to the door and looked out, drawing in a deep breath of air and spotting Mike still crouched by the front wheel of the cab. He was watching the door with apprehension, and when he saw her an expression of relief passed over his face. She climbed down out of the truck, nodded her head toward the other truck and he nodded back, following her as she carefully made her way around the cab of the second truck and toward the identical door on the side of the tank. The first truck had been sitting on softer ground - sand and dirt mixed in with the rocks, but the second truck was over harder ground covered in the flat, rocky shale that now seemed to be everywhere. She had to move more slowly to avoid making too much noise with the hard soles of her shoes and near the passenger door of the second truck she paused, hearing a different but familiar timbre in the gravel under her feet. Looking down, her breath caught in her throat and she crouched down, reaching out and scooping up a handful of sunflower seeds, still in the shells. Mulder. Mulder didn't have the market cornered on sunflower seed consumption, but it didn't matter. She knew deep in her gut that he had been there. That he might still be there. She dropped the seeds and stood, edging her way along the side of the truck to the door as she had with the first truck. And like the first truck, she listened at the door before opening it with her weapon drawn and stepping inside. It was set-up exactly the same as the first truck...and was also uninhabited. There was one truck left to search - the moving truck that was sitting about fifty feet behind the two tanker trucks. Approaching it without being seen would be difficult, as there was nothing to cover them after they stepped away from the tankers. Scully moved to the end of the second tanker truck and stopped near the rear wheel, motioning to Mike to join her. "I'm going to make a run for that last truck," she told him in a low voice. "Stay here out of sight and keep watch for anything or anyone that may suddenly appear." He swallowed and nodded. Scully glanced over the moving truck once more, then sprinted the distance between the back of the tanker and the front of the moving truck, crouching down by the left headlight when she reached her destination. She looked back over at Mike, who gave her the thumbs up, and carefully she rose, easing her way around the side of the truck. When she reached the end she paused, listening for movement. Hearing none she carefully peeked around the corner. The door on the back of the truck was open and there was nobody to be seen. She was cautious as she stepped around the back of the truck, but it was evident that there wasn't anyone there and hadn't been anyone there for at least a couple of days. A few torn boxes lay just near the door, the paper contents strewn across the floor of the bed but the crackers that had once been inside the boxes were missing, not even a crumb to be found. From the look of it, she assumed an animal had gotten into it, possibly a coyote. The back of the truck was filled with more medical supplies, gauze and tape, sterilized sheets and the like. There were other food supplies as well, dehydrated military meals, canned goods and bottles of water. She looked around the back corner and up other side of the truck, then moved up to the cab, pulling open the driver's side door and hoisting herself up onto the seat. Like the first truck, the keys were still in the ignition. Mike approached the truck slowly, stopping just outside of the open driver's side door. She was looking for the vehicle registration, but of course, there was none. Taking a latex glove out of her pocket, she carefully extracted the keys from the ignition, wrapped them in the glove and tucked it back into her pocket. She glanced at Mike, then her eyes went to an opening in the side of the hill as she stepped out of the truck with a loud sigh. "How far back does that mine go?" she asked him, squinting in the sun as she looked up into his face. He shrugged. "I don't know. Probably a couple of miles with all of the twists and turns. It goes way back into the mountain." He shook his head, looking at her with solemn eyes. "But I don't think your partner is in there." Her brow furrowed and her voice came out sharp, so unlike the way she'd been speaking to him. "Why do you say that?" He shrugged again. He had peeked in the door of the tanker truck while she was looking at the back of the moving truck and the sight of the operating room gave him the creeps. Who the hell makes an operating room in the back of a milk truck? Still, he'd been in that mine plenty of times since his adolescence and was certain that the way the trucks were set up they were more comfortable than the mine. "It's just an old abandoned mine. It's cold and dark in there. What would be the point or logic in going into the side of a mountain when you'd be more comfortable out here?" She looked past him, up at the opening to the mine. "You'd be surprised the things I've seen in the side of mountains," she said with renewed determination, shutting the truck door and stalking toward the hill. Mike rolled his eyes and shifted his weight from one foot to the other. It seemed obvious to him that her partner wasn't around but she wasn't going to give up until she saw it for herself...just like his second wife. That woman wouldn't let go of an idea if her life depended on it. But that woman would never have pursued him with the intensity that this one showed in looking for her partner. And damn, she was beautiful. He'd never fallen so hard or so fast in his life. But he knew he'd be just as likely to get Hillary Clinton to fall in love with him as he would Agent Scully. She was obviously interested in only one thing. Her partner. Scully was already halfway up the hill when he let out another sigh, following her once again. When the reached the opening to the mine she pulled a small mag-lite flashlight out of her jacket pocket and flashed it inside, just beyond the entrance. How she kept all of those things on her without a purse or having obvious bulges in her snug clothing made him wonder what else she had tucked away in there. "I'd like it if you stayed out here and watched the entrance, Mike," she said, turning to face him. "If I'm not back in..." she looked at her watch, seeing it was already four-thirty, "forty-five minutes, go for help. Do not attempt to find me yourself, do you understand?" Her voice was firm and he nodded. "Gotcha." She stepped into the entrance of the mine and he called out to her, "Agent Scully?" She looked up over her shoulder, an eyebrow raised in question. "Watch out for air vents, okay? They should be blocked off by lumber railings but you never know." She gave him a brief smile. "Gotcha." And then she disappeared into the blackness. Twenty yards in she shivered. The air was cold and due to the curves in the path she could no longer see the sunlight at the opening where she'd entered. Shining the flashlight on the ground it was evident that this had been a popular party place. Beer caps and bottles, broken and unbroken were strewn along the walls and about a hundred yards further in she found an old mattress, the ticking splitting out of a tear on one side and more stains than she cared to count covering the top. Some romantic makeout spot. She stepped around it and continued carefully until she reached a fork, uncertain which way to proceed. There was little evidence that anyone had used this mine for anything other than mining or partying, and there was nothing to suggest that even that had been recent. The ground was covered in gravel and rocks - even her own footprints didn't show. Heading to the right she traveled about another 100 yards before coming to a dead end, the words "TRONA CLASS OF '85" spray painted on the wall in red. She turned around and went back the way that she came, taking the other path when she reached the junction. The farther she went the deeper her heart sank. There was nothing out of the ordinary in there. No file cabinets, no secured doors with secret mathematical codes. She could search the entire mine but she knew in her heart that she wouldn't find Mulder. He wasn't here. He may have been in the vicinity, but he wasn't here now. She looked at her Indiglo and noted that she had twenty minutes to get back to the opening and with a deep sigh she turned around, heading back out. When she emerged from the mine Mike was wearing the same apprehensive look she'd seen earlier, and the same look of relief crossed his face when he saw her. Noting the slump of her shoulders and the disappointment in her eyes he sighed, empathizing with her. From where they stood they had a clear view of the trucks. From that angle it seemed even more desolate, more evident that there hadn't been anyone around for days. "Where do you think they went?" Mike asked, standing with his legs spread apart and crossing his arms in front of him as he surveyed the area. "People don't just go off leaving trucks customized with hundreds and thousands of dollars worth of hospital equipment and the keys in the ignition." She didn't answer, looking down at the ground and wondering the same thing. He watched her, noting the general look of disappointment on her face. "He means a lot to you...doesn't he?" he asked gently. She looked up and into his eyes. She opened her mouth to say something but changed her mind, then looked back down at the ground. "Yeah." "So what now?" he asked, swallowing the lump in his throat over what he knew her answer was going to be. She looked out over the desert, her eyes weary and sad. "I catch a plane back to D.C. just in time for work Monday morning." He nodded, looking back out at the trucks. He knew that sadness in her eyes had nothing to do with his sadness. Wham, bam, thank you ma'am. He'd be thinking about her for a long time after she'd gone. She scuffed the toe of her shoe against the ground, stirring up the gravel and something else along with it, something that caused her to pause and get a better look. Scooping up a handful of gravel she moved it around in her palm and found shells - discarded, chewed sunflower seed shells. She let out a long breath of defeat, tears filling her eyes but held in check before they spilled over. Another dead end, another lead leading to nothing. She was certain that Mulder had been there and that he was following the people who had surely been conducting unthinkable experiments in the back of those trucks. But she didn't know if he'd been the subject of the medical experiments or where he and the people who had been working in those trucks had disappeared to. Once again she was left wondering with a gnawing in the pit of her stomach if he was even still alive. Had the events that transpired since Mulder was spotted by Edward Sessing two weeks ago been his final moments? And what she couldn't know, what it wasn't her privilege to know was the reason behind the sudden attempt to move the trucks from the location just outside of town... Special Agent Dana Scully had been spotted two days earlier, getting out of a rental car at the Desert Rose Motel. XxXxXxXxX Chapter Three Two Weeks Earlier The exercises were exhausting, but exhausting in the way that left him feeling sated and relieved. He found the process cathartic and he'd never sleep better than after a session. So much so that after the sessions he was practically dead on his feet, asleep before his head hit the pillow. Tonight he couldn't sleep, though. They'd had a breakthrough and were starting to reach paydirt. It had been a long, strenuous process getting to this point, starting with the intense physical conditioning. He thought he was in good shape before - he'd exercised regularly, alternated conditioning with aerobic activity, passed all his physical exams in the above-average percentile. When he started the physical conditioning five months ago he found out his idea of being in shape was nothing short of naïve. Two days into it he was so sore he could barely move. Muscles he didn't realize he had protested. And what he thought was endurance was one-fifth of what he would achieve. Eventually he grew stronger, his muscles growing harder and more defined. He was heavier but at the same time just as thin as he'd always been. He was cut. Never one to give too much thought to his physical appearance, he found himself taking pleasure in the way his body had shaped up. It was ironic that he couldn't show anyone, couldn't stride nonchalantly into the office in jeans and a T-shirt and gauge his partner's reaction to the new improved Fox Mulder. She didn't seem too disappointed with the old one, for that matter. He rolled over onto his side, thinking about his partner. God, he missed her. He slid his hand down underneath the elastic waistband of his pajama bottoms, taking himself in hand with a half-hearted squeeze. He considered jerking off to take his mind off of the session or maybe to sink farther into his thoughts of her...but he decided against it, rolling onto his back and tucking his hands behind his head. Unless his need was extreme he didn't feel comfortable indulging when Krycek was under the same roof, worried that he might give something away in the heat of the moment. Not that Krycek didn't already know about his feelings for Scully. But he wasn't going to give voice to them. They were decidedly private and off-limits. Restless, he rose up off of the bed and wandered out of his bedroom, through the kitchen and out onto the back porch, checking for rattlesnakes getting cozy on the steps before sitting down on the top step. Drawing in a deep breath of the cool night air, he looked out over the desert and sighed. He missed her. God, how he missed her. It was like leaving a part of himself behind, being away from her for so long without any contact. He thought about her often - 'Scully would have something to say about that' or 'Scully should see this.' He wanted to call her every single day, wanted to tell her where he was and what he was doing. He wanted her there with him, helping him. He missed the validation he received in her eyes, the confirmation that he was doing the right thing. That she believed in him. Cared about him. He missed her. He wanted the damn project to be over so he could go home. Back to life. Back to her. But they'd had a breakthrough in their session that evening. He'd been able to hear Krycek just as clear as if he'd spoken out loud and could sustain the connection for nearly twenty-five minutes. The first time he'd been able to hear something besides his own thoughts it only lasted a few seconds, and he was so exhausted afterward that they had to carry him to his bed to sleep it off. Slowly he was able to work up to a full minute and he learned how to focus on a specific sound until it came in clear. They worked on increasing the amount of time he could sustain the connection until he got it up to a full twenty minutes. He wasn't nearly as tired as he used to be, either. Gratefully, it didn't come to him unless he put everything he had into concentrating and focusing on it, so he wasn't plagued by a cacophony of voices as he had been when he'd first acquired the ability. That was before Spender Senior attempted to cut it out of him, though. How much of the ability, if any remained following the surgery was an unknown. He'd exceeded their expectations and now hopes were high. "Can't sleep?" Krycek asked from behind, breaking the silence and interrupting his train of thought. "Anxious," he answered truthfully without looking back over his shoulder. He and Krycek and Ulrich had been in nearly exclusive company for almost six months. There was no need for niceties or consideration of each others' feelings; they were there to achieve a goal. An objective. Krycek studied him a moment, his mouth set into a grim line as he leaned against the porch railing. "Anxious about the next session," he commented, crossing his arms in front of him, "or anxious to get home?" Mulder didn't reply, keeping his back to Krycek as he looked out over the desert. He knew the answer to that question. "We've still got a lot of work to do," Krycek commented. Mulder nodded. "I know." Krycek was silent a moment, looking down at his feet, the muscle in his jaw twitching. "You know a lot of things now, I imagine." He was alluding to the session, to the sacrifice he had made by bringing Mulder into the project, therefore allowing him access to his thoughts and motives. He had no choice, though - they needed Mulder. He was the only one who could help them. It had only been a few minutes, but it was enough for Mulder to get inside his head and read his fears and hopes. He already knew about some of Krycek's methods and how far he would go to get what he was after. Now he knew truthfully that the threat that they were working against was real. And he knew that in spite of everything that had happened, he believed in what he was doing as much as Mulder ever believed in his own work. Theirs was the same work, after all. They just approached it from different angles. For Mulder, it was only a brief glimpse into the mind of a very complicated man, but it was enough for him to believe. For now. XxXxXxXxX About Five Months Earlier "Scully?" he'd called out sleepily, rising up on one elbow and rubbing an eye. The clock by his bed read 2:23 a.m. "The barrel of my gun is ten centimeters from your temple." The male voice grated in his ears, familiar and easily recognized. "You live or you die in the next ten minutes. Your choice." Mulder flopped back down onto his back, closing his eyes. "I must be having a nightmare." "It appears I'm not the one you dream about, partner." Mulder defensively shifted his hips underneath the blanket. "Get the fuck out of here, Krycek." "There's something you need to see." "I just finished forty-two hours of surveillance. The only thing I need to see is the inside of my eyelids." "You want to see this. Trust me." Mulder let out a short laugh. "TRUST you?" He raised his head and felt the cold steel of a gun barrel press against his temple. The sarcastic smile dropped from his face, becoming a grimace. "So what, you're gonna shoot me if I don't come with you?" "You're a bright man. Bright enough to realize that what I'm offering you is the chance to see everything you've been looking for in the last ten years. Proof of all of your assertions." "And this is the last good deed you need to make Eagle Scout?" There was a pause. "You have nine minutes left." Mulder was silent, blinking up at the ceiling. "Tell me where and maybe I'll consider it." Krycek let out a rush of air, contemplating his next words. Mulder wasn't easily convinced, even with a Glock pointed at his head. "Ellens Air Force Base." Mulder continued to stare at the ceiling, biting his lip. Ellens Air Force Base. He'd been to Ellens Air Force Base before and knew that there was a wealth of unexplored potential behind Krycek's offer. And the last time Krycek had dropped by to tip him off the tip had been for real. He turned and looked directly at him for the first time that night, his eyes dark and serious as he sat up in the bed. "I'm calling Scully." Krycek sat back on his heels, looking him in the eye and seeing his assent. "No." He expected this, of course. "Not now." He lowered the gun but didn't put it away. "Come with me, check it out first, build your case. It's what she expects from you, isn't it?" Mulder stared at him, studying his face. "She expects me to be honest with her. I'm not leaving without at least telling her. Besides, we need her scientific expertise." There was a pause. "Give me twenty-four hours. That seems like a fair trade - twenty-four hours for the answers to everything you've always wanted to know." It was a fair enough offer. Only twenty-four hours. Krycek could easily have shoved the gun into his spine and forced him out the door. Scully was going to have a fit when she found out he'd gone off hunting aliens with Alex Krycek. She'd forgive him for it, though, if he was able to give her a little of the scientific proof that she'd worked so hard for. That they had both worked so hard for. He smoothed his hand over his face then reached over to the nightstand where his weapon and identification lay, only to have Krycek grab his wrist. "You're not going to need any of that." He had picked up Mulder's jeans off of the floor near the bed and dropped them in his lap. "Get dressed. You've got seven minutes." XxXxXxXxX It was not only the two of them - they were accompanied by a blonde hulk of a man with a German accent named Ulrich who drove them to a small community airport in Virginia where they boarded a puddle jumper plane that looked like it had seen better days. Ulrich hopped into the pilot seat proving he had more than brawn and a driver's license while Mulder sat slumped in the back staring out the window. He needed sleep desperately but he wasn't about to close his eyes with Alex Krycek four feet away. His mind was busy cataloging everything he could remember about Ellens Air Force Base. He and Scully had been there years ago...it was the first time he'd been warned by him, by Deep Throat, not to pursue it. He'd gone anyway, taking an innocent and fresh, arrogantly skeptical Scully along for the ride. And what a ride it was. He'd run out on Scully, leaving her at the motel and she'd had to come after him and save his ass. A pang of guilt stabbed him in the chest over that...he was doing essentially the same thing now, only he owed her so much more now than he ever would have imagined back then. Deep Throat was gone now, too, and he knew little more about the strange lights and unusual aircraft at Ellens Air Force Base than he did before he'd opened that case. He'd seen plenty of other things in subsequent years, however. He found himself hoping that this time he wouldn't get screwed - that Krycek would make good on his promise and give him the proof that he and Scully sought. He knew he was taking a huge chance by agreeing to accompany him without so much as a phone call or email to Scully. The stakes were so much higher now and he couldn't bear the thought of disappointing her once again. Just like she'd been disappointed by smokey old Spender when he'd promised her the world and the cure for all disease and delivered nothing but an empty disk. If he never saw that look on her face again it would be too soon. After two hours in the air he relegated himself to the fact that there was nothing he could do about protection while sitting unarmed in the back of an airborne plane if Krycek had an ulterior motive. So he let sleep take over and didn't wake until the plane touched down at a small airport in what looked like Kansas. Wheat. Lots of wheat. Amber waves of grain. Ulrich worked on refueling the plane while Mulder and Krycek found the nearest men's room. Within half an hour they were in the air again. XxXxXxXxX The wheat fields gave way to the purple mountain majesty of the Rocky Mountains as he silently watched their progress from the air. There was little sound except for the occasional radio report as they neared and passed airport after airport, no one speaking or interrupting the silence. He doubted he'd make it back in twenty-four hours considering how far they were traveling and the mode of transportation the were using. He didn't see any reason to keep up his end of the bargain and resolved to call Scully the first chance that he got. In fact, if he were smart he'd get himself to a commercial airport and catch the next 757 back to D.C. He did want to know why Krycek had gone to the effort to come get him and transport him halfway across the country, though. As if he had read what was on his mind Ulrich spoke aloud, addressing Krycek but including Mulder in the conversation by his inflection. "Does he know why he is here?" he asked in a thickly accented tone. "He knows it is something of interest to him," Krycek responded evenly. Ulrich raised his head, addressing Mulder without looking back. "What have you been told?" Mulder shifted in his seat. "Nothing more than I knew before." The German looked at Krycek again. "Are you sure he is the one?" Again, Mulder was included by inflection. Krycek responded while looking straight ahead. "I'm sure." The dynamics of their conversation made Mulder sit forward in his seat, his keen eyes watching the scene play out. There was more to Ulrich than met the eye. It was evident in the way he held himself and the way he spoke. Even in the way he listened carefully before responding. "You are going to see evidence of extraterrestrial life, Mr. Mulder. Evidence which you may have seen glimpses of in the past. Evidence that you may believe in but have not accepted unconditionally." "What kind of evidence are we talking about?" Mulder asked, leaning forward toward Ulrich so that he could see more of his facial expression. Ulrich's countenance was grim. "A living, thinking being. A captive but willing participant in the resurrection of a project that was all but destroyed over a year ago but is now thriving once again." "What project?" Mulder asked with a touch of alarm, looking from Ulrich to Krycek. Krycek didn't move, keeping his eyes fixed on the window in front of him. "What project?" he asked again, his voice louder. When he didn't receive an answer Mulder sat back in the seat with frustration. It couldn't be the same project, the hybridization...it was over...they had stopped it a year ago. All of those people who died at El Rico Air Force Base, including Cassandra Spender...that had been the end of it. Even Spender Senior had confessed to Scully that his lifelong project now lay in ruin. Or did it? Was his overture to Scully, his offer of medical miracles merely a ploy to get the information he wanted, or was there another motive? Scully had been abducted and subjected to experiments just like Cassandra Spender. She had the chip in her neck, the one HE claimed was the cure for her Cancer. But what if it was much more than that? With him out of the way Scully was left open - unguarded without backup. The realization made him nearly blind with rage and he stood, slamming his fist against the back of his seat. "Goddamnit! I want you to put this plane down right now!" Krycek turned in his seat, his gun drawn but his voice calm. "Sit down, Mulder, before you get us all killed." "I want off of this plane now!" he yelled, shaking with fury. "You used me! You used me so that HE could get to Scully! It's her you and that fucking cigarette-smoking bastard want for your goddamn project!" Krycek looked to Ulrich, who met his look with a knowing look of superiority before turning back to the instrument panel. "Scully isn't in any immediate danger," he said evenly. There was a pause as Mulder waited for him to continue. "It's you they're after. We got to you first." Mulder stared back at him, his eyes dark and turbulent and his chest rising and falling with uneven breaths. "Then tell me what the FUCK is going on." This time, Ulrich looked at Krycek. Krycek glanced back at him, his mouth drawn in a tight line. "You don't get it. You're THE ONE, Mulder." Mulder ran his hands through his hair, dropping his head so that Krycek couldn't see his eyes. "You've said that before. The one what? The reason for the experiments? It was supposed to be me they took all those years ago instead of my sister...now it's payback time, is that it?" Krycek blinked at him impatiently, waiting for his pity-fest to pass. "The one who can stop it." "Jesus Christ..." Mulder muttered under his breath before looking Krycek in the eye again. "Says who?" Ulrich shifted uncomfortably in his seat and Krycek looked down. Neither one of them answered his question. After a long silence Krycek glanced back over at Mulder. He had returned to his seat and was staring out the window, chewing on his lower lip with a pensive expression on his face. "Something happened to you a while back, Mulder. You developed an ability that allowed you access to thought waves. You were taken, experimented on, and afterward you no longer had that ability." Mulder looked over at him, his eyes holding his accusation as he assumed that Krycek had been involved in that as well. "They cut open my skull. But you already know that." Krycek looked down again, his face showing his regret. Not for Mulder's plight, but for the circumstances they now found themselves in. "They removed what they believed to be the cause of that ability. Your father had them put it inside of him, thinking he would gain the ability instead." Mulder's eyes grew hard. "My FATHER died in West Tisbury in 1995." Krycek drew a deep breath and continued. "The operation failed. He's dying as a result of the surgery." Mulder nodded mutely. This part of the story did match what Scully had relayed to him following her experience with C.G.B. Spender. He'd told her his imminent death was due to complications from surgery. "They also failed to remove that ability from you." Krycek looked him in the eye and Mulder held his gaze defiantly. "I don't have that ability anymore. It's gone." "Not gone. It's a part of your genetic makeup. It was just turned down." Mulder thought a moment. "If that's true then why perform the surgery? And why do they want me now? Why didn't they just keep me in the facility where Scully found me?" "They've been watching you. Waiting for an indication that the ability has returned." Mulder bit his lip again then released it, shaking his head. "I don't have that ability. It's gone. I'd be of no use to them." Having been silent through most of the exchange, Ulrich spoke up. "You don't know how to access it." Mulder looked over at him, then back at Krycek, who was staring at Ulrich. Theirs was not an easy alliance. "And what does this have to do with the extraterrestrial biological entity that you claim is helping them rebuild the project?" Krycek let out a long breath, now staring straight ahead. "They need someone who can communicate with it." Mulder grinned and laughed sarcastically, the conversation finally setting off his previously waning sense of humor. If only Scully were there to participate. As it was, he was doing an admirable job of playing the skeptic. "What do you get out of all of this, Krycek? Money, power...chicks? Or do your preferences lie in a different direction? Farm animals, maybe?" Krycek let out a snort. "I'd just as soon turn you over to them and let them deal with you once and for all, Mulder. But believe it or not, we both want the same thing." Mulder nodded, not really believing him. "To what end?" Krycek looked at him, holding his look, his dark eyes serious. "I think you know the answer to that." Krycek turned back around and Mulder stared out the window. They were flying over Utah and the Great Salt Lake. It was beautiful but from the air it appeared desolate, uninhabited. For a moment he tried to imagine what the world would be like void of inhabitants. It was unimaginable. XxXxXxXxX Chapter Four There was a late model Dodge Durango waiting for them when they landed at the small airport in Southwestern Idaho and without stopping they drove to the forest, to a rustic house surrounded by Pine, Fir and Spruce trees. Ulrich and Krycek stepped out of the car and entered the house with comfortable familiarity, leaving Mulder to follow. He'd been paying attention while they drove and looking around now it was clear that there weren't any other houses in the immediate area. Once inside Mulder realized that they had been living here a while. The house was obviously a sportsman's getaway, simple but equipped with everything that a few men might need while enjoying the great outdoors. The amenities were comfortable but basic...no televisions, computers or fax machines. And no phones, of course. Krycek pointed at a small room on the left. "You'll stay in there. I've got the room next to yours and Ulrich in the back by the kitchen. The bathroom is across the hall." Mulder studied his face in an attempt to glean more than what was being said, like how long he expected him to stay, but Krycek turned and entered the bathroom, closing the door behind him. The room was generic - a bed, a closet, a dresser, a small table and chair in the corner. There was a new dopp kit on top of the dresser along with an unopened package of three white t-shirts and another unopened package of six white cotton briefs. There was a stiff new pair of Levi's and a few packaged flannel shirts in the top drawer but the rest of the drawers and the closet were empty. Obviously, they expected him to stay more than just a day. He heard Krycek flush and step out of the bathroom before he appeared in his doorway. "You should get some rest. We've got a lot of work ahead of us." "I'm not staying," Mulder stated, his body thrumming with nervous energy. "You haven't seen what you came to see," Krycek replied, rationally. "Then let's go see it." Krycek paused, the muscle in his jaw twitching as he looked at Mulder. "Not now. Ulrich has just flown round trip to D.C. and back, he's tired and needs rest. We'll go after dark." Krycek closed the door before presumably retiring to his own room. Mulder didn't hear anything to suggest he'd been locked in, but he didn't bother to get up and check the door just in case. It wouldn't do him any good to run off now, considering the remote location and the circumstances. He would stay long enough to see the alleged EBE but then he was going back to D.C. In the meantime, he needed to contact Scully. He moved deliberately but silently around the room, opening drawers, examining shelves and corners. Behind the dresser next to the baseboard he found what he was looking for - a blue ball-point pen without a cap. Ripping open one of the packaged flannel shirts he found a piece of unmarked paper, heavier than the usual thin tissue paper packaged with his dress shirts. It would do the job. He moved over to the table, sitting in the chair beside it and testing the pen on the lower corner of the paper. It was running out of ink and a bit scratchy but wrote well enough to be legible and didn't tear the paper. Taking in a deep breath, he paused, then began writing: Special Agent Dana Scully, X Files Division Federal Bureau of Investigation Scully, I'm at Ellens AFB - circumstances prevented me from contacting you but know that you are with me in mind if not in body. I'll contact you as soon as I can. "What is this?" Krycek's voice relayed his irritation as peered over Mulder's shoulder. His hand was poised in mid-air over the paper as he considered closing with the ubiquitous 'I love you' before signing his name and therefore didn't even hear the door open. "What does it look like?" Mulder replied with equal irritation. "Contrary to your initial promise of ALLOWING me to contact my partner after 24 hours you've denied me access to a telephone or a computer. I need to let Scully know that I'm alright." "I can't let you do that," Krycek replied, reaching for the note. Mulder slapped his palm down on top of it and the note ripped in Krycek's hand. Mulder angrily crumpled the piece that was left under his fingers, rising to his feet. "Then you leave me no other choice. I'm out of here." When he turned he saw Ulrich standing in the middle of the doorway, seemingly blocking his exit. His hands clenched and unclenched into fists at his sides. "Am I to understand that this is no longer a voluntary situation?" He glared at Ulrich, then at Krycek. "Mr. Mulder, you don't understand the situation," Ulrich said patiently. The way he said it reminded him of Pussy from 'The Sopranos'. Simple and unassuming, but big and deadly just the same. "No, Ulrich, YOU don't understand the situation. Neither of you do." He glanced at Krycek again, his breathing quickening with his frustration. "I have a partner who depends on me. Who worries when I don't show up at work like I'm supposed to. Who will call out the National Guard when she finds that I've abandoned my apartment in the middle of the night without my badge, weapon or even an ATM card. At the very least she needs to know that I'm alright." His voice grew softer. "I owe her that." Ulrich and Krycek exchanged a look and Krycek expelled a breath of air. "She's being watched," he said, his lips drawing into a grim line. "They know you'll contact her." Mulder shook his head. "So they know me. So what?" "So, if she knows where you are, then so will they. Which means that they'll also know why you're here." "Scully can be trusted." "She'll be on the next plane to Boise, Mulder. She doesn't know that she's being watched. Her telephones, email, mailbox, even her apartment...they've been monitoring both of you since your surgery. They can get to her before she ever reaches you." Mulder could feel his anger quickly escalating, the familiar boil beginning in the middle of his chest and spreading outward as his breathing struggled to keep up with his body's reaction. "Then we have to tell her. Or let me go and get her. She can help." "She does not possess the ability to be invisible, Mr. Mulder," Ulrich answered from the doorway. Mulder turned and faced him. "What's that supposed to mean?" When Ulrich didn't answer, he turned back toward Krycek. Krycek held his gaze without replying. "The chip in her neck," Mulder said at last. "Besides controlling her cancer it acts as some kind of biological Lojak." When he didn't receive a rebuttal he sighed, sitting down on the side of the bed and drawing a hand over his face. "What else can it do?" he asked Krycek, blinking up at him wearily. Krycek looked at Ulrich, who met his gaze evenly before responding. "It can't harm her," he replied, not without empathy. Krycek added, "She's better off where she is, Mulder. In the dark." "She WILL find me, Krycek. Do not doubt that." Krycek let out a huff, then glanced at Ulrich once more, and again back to Mulder. His reply was without ire, almost humble. "I know. That's why we need your cooperation if we're going to succeed." He paused. "I'm asking for your help, Mulder." Mulder glanced at Ulrich and noted his sincere expression, then studied Krycek, drawing out the moment as long as possible. They both seemed sincere, not that Krycek was someone to be believed. The truth be told, he was enjoying making the little weasel sweat. But it was Ulrich and his silent but somehow serene demeanor who sold him. With a swallow and a slight nod, he gave his assent. XxXxXxXxX Ellens Air Force Base They accessed Ellens Air Force Base in the same way Mulder had accessed it years ago - underneath the fence in the dark. Ulrich silently lead the way and he had a keen sense of his surroundings. More than once they had to stop and lay low against the ground in the tall grass until Ulrich felt their path was safe and they could proceed undetected. Ulrich commented at one point, "we should be very cautious." He tensed as they came upon the building that housed the being from behind, motioning to Krycek and Mulder to stay low. It was a putty- colored structure, rectangular in shape with few windows. As they slowly moved around the side of the building they could see two unmarked, white tanker trucks and a large unmarked white moving truck next to the building's entrance, and armed sentries at the entrance doors to the building and each of the trucks. Several men in lab coats were hovering around in the area while others were carrying medical equipment and boxes of varying sizes from the building to the trucks. "What's happening?" Mulder asked quietly. "They're loading up the trucks," Krycek replied, the muscle in his jaw moving as he watched the scene before him. After a little while, he pointed at the entrance to the building and whispered, "there It is." Mulder let out a long, slow breath of air at the sight before him. 'It' was long and thin, at least seven or eight feet high, with incredibly narrow arms and legs. The skin was a grayish color and the head was twice the size of a human skull. It resembled what he called a 'gray' in appearance but the size indicated that perhaps It was something else entirely. About halfway between the building and the truck the being paused, turning it's head and seemingly looking right at their hiding place. It cocked It's head and blinked It's eyes a few times, and the two men accompanying It paused as well. Mulder felt a strange surge of conflicting emotions swell up inside of him. After a moment It turned and moved forward again, nearly folding up as It climbed into the back of one of the tanker trucks followed by It's accomplices. "It knows you," Ulrich said to Mulder softly, a hint of wonder in his voice. Mulder drew in a deep breath and let it out again slowly, still staring at the door on the side of the tanker truck where the entity had disappeared from his view. Shaking his head, he whispered, "that's not possible." His world was rocking. As impossible as it seemed, It had to be for real. Men like Shaquille O'Neal grew to be as tall but there was no way a human being could be that tall and that thin with those incredibly long limbs. It didn't move like those animatronic characters at Walt Disney World, either. No, whatever It was, It was a living being. But It wasn't human. The men in the lab coats climbed into the trucks and the sentries stepped back away from the wheels as the engines turned over. Krycek stood up straight, muttering "shit!" before running back the way they came at full speed. Ulrich wrapped an arm around Mulder's wrist, pulling him back. "We must follow them," he said with urgency. Krycek was already fifty yards or more ahead of them, heading for the vehicle they'd left under a covering of trees not too far from the fence. Ulrich kept Mulder's pace, and by the time they were crawling under the fence Krycek had already started the SUV and had pulled it up to the opening. They had barely taken their seats when he hit the accelerator and sped off after the unmarked trucks. In their haste to catch up with the trucks neither Krycek nor Ulrich noticed the torn scrap of paper with Dana Scully's name on it left lying by the side of the road. XxXxXxXxX They didn't have time to return for their belongings, but Mulder suspected that Krycek and Ulrich were undoubtedly traveling as light as he. After several hours of cautious driving a safe distance behind the trucks Krycek gave up the wheel to Ulrich, stretching out in the back seat and falling asleep to the constant hum of the tires against the pavement. Alex Krycek was asleep and vulnerable before him. Or behind him if you wanted to get technical about it - whatever, it was a first. It also said a lot about how desperately Krycek needed his help. Mulder sat in the passenger seat, awake, although he'd had so little sleep of late that he was afraid that he was beginning to lose his objectivity. His mind was trying to process all of the information he'd seen and heard in the last twenty-four hours. It was simply mind boggling. He did not doubt what he'd seen, nor could he discount the feeling he'd gotten when the entity seemingly looked right at him. But to go so far as to say that he possessed the ability to communicate with It was taking things a bit too far, even with the confidence that Krycek and Ulrich seemed to have in his potential. After everything that he'd been through he'd still come out alive with his mind and health intact, and there was no evidence to suggest that he could read other peoples' thoughts. Admittedly, sometimes he was pretty clear on what Scully was thinking but that was attributed more to their closeness and the way they've worked for so long as a team more than anything. Still, there had been times when he focused so intently on her that much of the outside world fell away. Less than a week ago they had been together and he'd clearly heard her say, 'I do love you, Mulder.' He knew she hadn't spoken the words because his mouth was on hers the entire time, but his heart sang. He'd pulled back enough to look into her eyes, and replied aloud, 'I love you too, Scully.' Her response was simply a knowing smile, but he knew from the look in her eyes that they understood each other perfectly. He closed his eyes, remembering the feeling. They had made love that night. Making love with Scully was still new and wondrous. The number of times that they had been together in that way seemed like such a precious few, but only because he had yet to get a firm grasp on the enormity of it all. Each time they made love they spoke volumes to each other although they said very little, and what they had become together extended beyond just a friendship or a partnership or a sexual relationship. It was the most significant relationship of his life. It encompassed all things and more still. He let out an involuntary sigh, unhappy with the circumstances that separated them and thought of the damage he may be causing to the relationship with this latest folly. His emission was loud enough for Ulrich to turn his head and glance at him, acknowledging the sound. "He is watching over her, Mr. Mulder," Ulrich stated quietly so as not to disturb Krycek's slumber. "Who?" Mulder asked. Ulrich continued, "Like you, I prefer that she come with us. But she is safe where she is." Mulder blinked at him. "Who is watching over her?" he asked again, wondering how much Ulrich knew about them, how more there was to the story and why he wasn't being given that information. Ulrich was silent a moment. "I see the depth of your connection and I understand your devotion to her and her well-being. Just as she is a necessary element for your well-being. Her presence here would expedite and ensure our success as we go forward." Mulder brought a hand up to his face and pressed his fingers against his eyelids, rubbing until the grit caused his eyes to water. He was too tired to read Ulrich's cryptic talk about success at that particular moment. "What will you get out of all of this, Ulrich?" Ulrich glanced at him again, and Mulder briefly saw in his eyes the depth of an ancient soul. "There is no way to judge the repercussions of our success or failure. I strive for that which is the most elusive...peace," he replied, falling silent once more. XxXxXxXxX Near Trona, California - Six Months Later From the beginning the sessions involved Ulrich working with Mulder on his concentration and physical conditioning while Krycek served as the target of that concentration. When Mulder was able to sustain his focus in a session for over thirty minutes they were ready to make contact with the being residing near the mine where the trucks had migrated and set up camp. Traveling on mountain bikes with thick tires designed to accommodate the desert sand they had visited the site repeatedly over the past six months, familiarizing themselves with the layout and schedule. They approached from the south, around and over the ridge of the mountain to the east. They knew that high above the tunnels of the mine there was an intricate network of tunnels accessed by a retractable thirty-five foot ladder that lead to a few small rooms in the back of the mountain, setup to house the six men who were working on the project. There was always at least one man standing sentry over the trucks at all times, and from what they observed, the being remained inside one of the two tankers trucks most of the time. They usually worked during daylight hours, retiring into the side of the mountain at night when it grew dark. Supplies were brought in by car on Tuesdays and Fridays, always the same car and always the same driver. No one who was attached to the project was ever seen leaving the site. As a law enforcement official Mulder had been taught to pursue the perpetrators to stop the crime - or in this case, the project. He had suggested that they follow the car to discover where it had come from and get more information on the people behind the project, but Krycek and Ulrich weren't interested. They knew enough about who these people were, and that who was as incidental as it was changeable. They needed to know the what, where and why - and the source of that information was in one of those tanker trucks. Mulder was the key that unlocked that information. Unknowingly, the day they planned on making the initial contact happened to be the same day that Dana Scully arrived in Trona on a tip that her partner had recently been spotted in the area. It was just growing dark when they arrived at the site, carefully moving to their usual surveillance place at the main entrance to the old mine. As the sun set behind the mountains in the west the men came out of the tanker trucks, climbing the long ladder to the small opening in the mountain above. When the sun had set completely leaving behind the orange and pink glow above the mountains Mulder carefully made his way down the hill toward the trucks, mindful of the lone sentry who was standing in back of the moving truck. As luck would have it, the sentry was a basketball fan and there was a Lakers/Suns game being broadcast over the sports radio station. If there was a positive side to being holed up in the middle of the high desert it was the radio reception - it came in crystal clear from all over the state and even parts of Arizona and Nevada. Wearing an ear piece and a deceptively laconic expression, the sentry stared off into space, intent on the action on court and oblivious to the man behind him standing between the two tanker trucks. It was a fifty-fifty guess which truck the being was in, so Mulder chose the truck that was sitting in partial sand, sliding underneath and lying face up on the ground just behind the right wheel of the truck's cab. Hopefully, he was close enough that it didn't matter which truck It was in, he'd be able to communicate with It anyway. When he'd removed the small rocks underneath him and got comfortable he closed his eyes and let out a series of long, slow breaths, regulating his breathing until it was deep and steady. Focusing inward, he imagined a point of white light, expanding the point wider and broader until it filled him, all of his senses heightened and aware of everything within and surrounding him. His body relaxed and suddenly a powerful jolt of emotion hit him, threatening his concentration as his entire body shook with an intense spasm. It was every imaginable feeling coursing through him all at once. He could feel tears running down the sides of his face as the emotion flowed through him in alternating waves of fear, joy, love, hatred and angst. This had never happened in one of the sessions but he grit his teeth and held on to the white light. A faint sound barely audible began to grow louder, the debilitating waves of emotion slowing and subsiding as the sound became clearer and clearer. "I know you," It said. The voice was distinct, yet it was indescribable. Thoughts did not have a timbre the way a voice did, although each person's thoughts were unique to that individual. "Who are you," Mulder asked. "I am all that is and ever will be. I am the light of the world." Mulder was undaunted by the comment. "Why are you here?" "Whoever follows me will never walk in darkness, but will have the light of the life." "What life is that?" "Everlasting life." "I don't accept that. All things die, it's a part of the cycle." "For the Lord himself shall come down from heaven, with a loud command, with the voice of the archangel and with the trumpet call of God, and the dead in Christ will rise first. After that we who are still alive and are left will be caught up together to meet the Lord in the air. And so we will be with the Lord forever." "You're quoting Biblical text." The connection grew fainter as the waves of emotion once again grew stronger, and Mulder clenched his teeth, struggling to hold the connection against the crippling, throbbing feelings that were assaulting all of his senses. "Tell me why you're here." "Behold, the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world!" Another powerful wave overcame him and Mulder focused harder, the muscles in his body straining against the mental anguish he was enduring. "Who are you?!" "I will give you a new heart and put a new spirit in you; I will remove you from your heart of stone and give you a heart of flesh. And I will put my Spirit in you and move you to follow my decrees and be careful to keep my laws." All at once he was at peace. He felt warm and loved, his body relaxing into a liquid lassitude. He regulated his breathing, intently focused on the white light and the sound. "Who are you?" he asked again. There were a few beats of silence, then a familiar voice answered, "Mulder, it's me." He struggled to catch his breath once more. "Scully?" His response was met with silence, followed by small, undulating waves of conflicting emotion growing increasingly stronger and stronger as he fought to maintain control. "Scully!" he called out again, but the waves became stronger and more intense. When It spoke again it was in the voice It had used from the beginning. "Salvation is found in no one else, for there is no other name under heaven given to men by which we must be saved." "Are you telling me that you're here to save mankind?" "I tell you the truth, whoever hears my word and believes him who sent me has eternal life and will not be condemned; he has crossed over from death to life." "And just what do you see as eternal life?" Mulder experienced a sharp, all-encompassing wave that ran the gamut of emotions ending in extreme anguish, then a reply was issued in the equivalent of a mental scream, "They're coming!" Mulder's eyes flew open in horror, his concentration broken as he gasped for air. He was covered in sweat and dust, and he curled into the fetal position on his side, tears trickling down the sides of his face as he sobbed softly. The combined beauty and horror of what he had just experienced overwhelmed him and he struggled to find a sliver of peace within his aching heart. As his breathing and pulse slowed he blinked several times, regaining weak control over his body and its responses. He found that his limbs were nearly dead weight but he was able to roll out from under the truck, and with a quick glance in the direction of the oblivious sentry, he climbed back up the hill to where Krycek and Ulrich were waiting, collapsing in the gravelly dirt. "What happened?" Krycek asked, crouching down next to him. Mulder sucked in several deep breaths, his chest heaving from the exertion of climbing the hill as he did so. "They're coming." "Who?" "Them...Jesus Christ, Ed Edd and Eddy...I don't know. It spoke in scripture, verses from the New Testament." Ulrich kneeled down on the other side of him, his eyes wide and intense. "Which ones? What did It say?" Mulder pushed himself up into a sitting position. "It said that whoever believed would have everlasting life." He looked up at Krycek, residual feelings of angst causing him to feel tense, lashing out. "That is the main theme running throughout the Bible, isn't it?" "What else?" Ulrich asked with urgency. He took another deep breath. He did not know much about Ulrich despite the six months they had spent together. He understood that there was a strong sense of commitment to their shared endeavor, and saw enough of the small pieces of the man to know that he had a deeply spiritual side to him that reminded him of Scully in some respects. "Pain," he replied. "Joy, love, contentment, anger, hatred, guilt, lust, fear...every imaginable feeling and emotion. Sometimes individually and sometimes all coming at once." A flicker in Ulrich's eyes registered fear and he stood, staring down at the tanker trucks, his face masked with an unreadable expression. He looked as if he were about to sprint down the hill when a sudden flurry of movement dropped him back to his knees and onto his stomach, Mulder and Krycek following suit. The men involved in the project were scurrying down the ladder, carrying boxes of whatever they could manage to bring with them. They heard the sentry ask one of the men, "what's going on?" The response was intelligible, but the man responded with alarm. "When?" The sentry looked around wildly and moved to help the other men load the boxes into the truck. When the last man out of the tunnel had reached the ground the ladder was hastily removed, folded and placed in the back of the moving truck along with the boxes they had brought down from the tunnels. Two men climbed into the cab of each truck and just as the headlights came on a bright, blinding light appeared from above, illuminating the three trucks in a brilliant, cone-shaped beam. Mulder looked up, his mouth opening in awe to see a huge craft hovering overhead all at once, its size completely blacking out the desert sky from his perspective. There was a flash like time was moving in slow motion and the next thing he knew he was looking down on the trucks, their headlights still illuminated but the men, the craft and light above were nowhere to be seen. He felt his stomach lurch and he crawled a few feet back just before he emptied his dinner onto the rocks beneath him. When the shakes subsided and he could sit up again Krycek and Ulrich were on their feet, heading down the side of the hill toward the trucks. With a groan and a huge effort, he pulled himself to his feet and stumbled down the hill after them. He stopped near the cab of the second tanker truck. Krycek was inside the first tanker and Ulrich was just coming out of the second, shaking his head. It was gone. Grimacing against the sick taste in his mouth, Mulder pulled a handful of sunflower seeds out of his jeans pocket, popping a few into his mouth and spilling a few on the ground in the process. After a few moments of sucking the salt off of the shells he spit them out on the ground a few feet away. Ulrich's face was slack and he appeared shaken by the events that had transpired. He walked over to where Mulder was standing and stood next to him, both men silently looking out over the darkened desert landscape. "'For it is by grace you have been saved, through faith - and this not from yourselves, it is the gift of God...'" Ulrich spoke softly, his eyes far away as he looked up at the star-filled sky. "You think that was God's grace?" Mulder asked softly, looking over at him. Ulrich shook his head. "I don't know. I've witnessed the hand of God in many different forms. That was truly one of the more spectacular exhibitions." Mulder smiled slightly, looking down at the ground and poking at one of the spilled seeds with the toe of his hiking boot. "There was something else," he added softly after a few minutes of silence. Ulrich turned to look at him and Mulder met his gaze solemnly. "At one point..." he paused, licking his lips. "It spoke to me in her voice." Mulder's expression betrayed his vulnerability and Ulrich drew in a deep breath. "It is a deceiver. Mine is not a God of pain or deception, Mr. Mulder," Ulrich said at last. "It is not doing His work." Mulder nodded, thinking about what had been said. "So what do you think It was trying to tell me?" Ulrich shook his head, still watching the sky. "It knows you. You should take that as a sign to be very careful." Mulder drew in a deep, shaky breath and let it out slowly, then looked back out over the desert before turning his attention back to Ulrich. "So now what?" After a moment Ulrich looked at him, fixing his gaze on his face. "I am an ordained Priest, Mr. Mulder, and I honor my vows. Now I will return to my people - as you will to yours." He touched his shoulder gently, then turned and walked away, leaving Mulder standing alone beside the abandoned truck. Ulrich a Priest. Working with Krycek. A man of God and a man with no one to answer to but himself. There's an example of a grand cosmic joke for you. He looked up at the sky once more with an ironic grin, wondering if maybe he'd been hallucinating all along. He was emotionally, physically and mentally exhausted. Six months of effort leading right back to where he'd started - too many questions and too few answers. Maybe he'd wake up in his own bed and find it had all been a dream. But he knew better. Heading back toward the place where they'd stashed the mountain bikes he turned his thoughts away from their failure and focused instead on the only thing that would heal his battered psyche... He was finally going home. XxXxXxXxX Chapter Five She was in Mulder's apartment, on Mulder's sofa. Somehow she'd been covered in a thick Indian blanket, no doubt by Mulder after she'd passed out on him. The apartment was dark and still. There was a constant buzz coming from the filter on the aquarium accompanied by an occasion bubble of air rising to the top of the tank. The refrigerator hummed loudly in the kitchen and the faint sound of water dripping in the bathroom provided a steady rhythm like the beating of her heart. The aquarium glowed in a faint blue glow and a soft yellow light spilled out onto the floor from the half-closed door to Mulder's bedroom. But there was something obviously missing. Mulder. Amidst the unfamiliar sounds and movements that went unnoticed during the day, Mulder's exuberance was strangely absent. She felt his absence keenly even though he was probably in the next room sleeping. She leaned her head back, thinking about what it meant to miss Mulder when he was only in the next room...thinking too much for one day, or perhaps it was only that she hadn't thought enough in all of her previous days leading up to today. It was a melancholy, almost lonely feeling to find yourself awake in the darkness of someone else's home in the middle of the night. Alone. There were so many things inside of her competing for their moment of contemplation, impatient to be told, things that she hesitated to share with anyone until now. She and Mulder had spent the latter part of the afternoon, all evening and well into the night talking about her personal journey and new self-awareness. She'd been so caught up in telling her experience that she'd neglected to ask him how he'd felt returning to England for the first time since college, and why he'd cut his trip so short after his investigation fell flat. Surely there were old friends to look up and places to visit and he'd hardly stayed there a day. She let out a soft sigh, regretting her oversight. She would make a point to ask him about it later. Throwing the blanket aside she sat up, standing on bare stocking feet as she stretched with an involuntary yawn. She knew it was very late, or rather, very early, depending on your point of view. Strange how one moment could make all of the difference in the world. She now knew with perfect acuity what she wanted and she didn't want to wait. She padded toward the bedroom wearing a soft, knowing smile as she slid her jacket off her shoulders. To say that Mulder would be shocked to see her climbing into bed with him was an understatement. Looking in through the open doorway, she expected to see his lanky form tangled under the covers, his mouth slightly open and a thick hardbound book laid across his chest. But the bed was empty... Scully awakened with a soft gasp, the thick, disorienting stupor of sleep rendering her temporarily unable to register her surroundings. It wasn't Mulder's bedroom, or even his apartment. Mulder's apartment wasn't even his anymore - someone else was living there now. As the memory of where she had been before falling asleep returned, so did the recognition of her location. She was on a return flight from California, and the lights had just flashed on, the other passengers shifting in their seats as they approached Dulles International Airport. With a sigh she sat up in her seat, replacing the tray table in front of her and pulling on the hem of her jacket underneath the seatbelt. Then she looked out the window, thinking about the dream. There was a twist to it, a variation on the way things actually happened. In retrospect, she was much more deliberate. It was funny, in a tragic sort of way. Ironic. To hold back for so long, to maintain her own personal, private place and not share all of herself with anyone. And when she finally decided to let go, to give it all up and leave it to the fates, the fates took it away. But not before she'd learned how good it could be to share all of herself completely with someone else who was sharing all of himself with her. Loneliness was something she could no longer rationalize. Nor did she want to. XxXxXxXxX Dulles International Airport As she exited the gangway a familiar face was standing at the gate. Their eyes met - hers were surprised; his apologetic. She walked over to him, mindful of the other passengers who were exiting the plane alongside her, anxious to get home to their loved ones. Their greeting was silent. "Are you on the next flight out, Sir?" she asked, her voice low for privacy. Skinner gave her a polite smile and a once over. "No, I'm here to give you a ride home." Her brow furrowed with confusion and he let out a soft sigh. "You went to Los Angeles on a lead." He paused. "What did you find out?" She exhaled, crossing her arms and looking down at the ground briefly, then at a spot somewhere around the middle of his chest. "He was there. An eye witness placed him in the Mojave Desert as little as two weeks ago." She looked up into his eyes and he opened his mouth to speak, slightly surprised, then paused. "Is this witness credible?" Her gaze did not falter. "I believe he is." He nodded, believing her. "What else?" She glanced down the concourse. She didn't check her bag so she didn't need to go to baggage claim, but she felt that the airport wasn't the most appropriate place to continue the conversation, either. "You mentioned a ride?" He nodded again, and placing a hand lightly on her back he escorted her down the concourse. XxXxXxXxX Georgetown After finding the trucks deserted he'd left the mine on the mountain bike, heading for the highway without bothering to return to the house where they had been staying for the last six months. Krycek and Ulrich were gone already, he was certain - they'd both left the mine by the time he reached his bike. He had few possessions and no money, and despite his exhaustion, he didn't want to waste any more time when he could be on his way back to D.C. A truck driver picked him up outside of Trona and gave him a ride as far as Riverside. They'd stopped at a 24 hour coffee shop and Mulder found a pay phone, placing a collect call to Scully but reaching her answering machine. He slumped against the wall at the sound of her voice, leaving a brief message that he was coming home and would try her again before hanging up and calling again, just to hear her voice one more time. The driver he'd ridden with spoke with a few other truckers, all of them traveling as far as they could on as little sleep possible. One of them was delivering poultry to a distribution center in Dallas and agreed to give Mulder a lift, looking for conversation to keep him alert and pass the time. Another driver in Dallas gave him the once-over and agreed to take him as far as Atlanta, but he'd opted to make other arrangements in Shreveport after the driver had gotten a little too friendly with his hands when he'd allowed himself to doze off. To his dismay, he'd had to leave the mountain bike on the truck, leaving him without anything tangible to sell or barter if the need arose. Scully still wasn't answering her phone and he wondered where she could be, not knowing she was back in Trona looking for him. A gray-haired but seemingly ageless black man wearing a worn and much-loved brown fedora and driving a vintage Cadillac picked him up outside of Shreveport. They had an easy if rather one-subject rapport - he was an old blues guitarist on his way to Birmingham to hear his grandson's rock band play their first real gig. He shared his thoughts for nearly the entire ride about the difference between the rock and roll of the younger generations and the good old soul- baring blues of his youth. Mulder participated in the conversation, both agreeing on the genius of Elvis Presley, but told him little about himself except that he was anxious to get back home. The man didn't ask why, seeing with wise old eyes the ways of the human heart. Without a word he delivered him to the Greyhound station in Birmingham and bought him a one-way ticket to Washington, D.C. Mulder asked for his name and address so that he could reimburse him when he got home, but the man just tipped his hat and smiled, saying "I'll receive my reward in the kingdom of Heaven, Mr. Mulder." XxXxXxXxX The building manager was more than surprised to see him. He knew he looked terrible from lack of sleep and probably smelled really bad, too, but the guy let him into her apartment, anyway. He hadn't bothered to go to his own apartment - if he even still had an apartment, which was doubtful. Besides, she wouldn't be there. When he saw his aquarium and a few other items of his in Scully's apartment he knew he was right. The apartment was nearly the same as the last time he'd seen it, except for the few additions of his own personal belongings. There was a stack of flyers on the coffee table bearing his likeness and the words 'HAVE YOU SEEN THIS MAN?' in boldface red type. He drew a hand over his face and rubbed his eyes, regretting for the millionth time the anguish he'd put Scully through by leaving her without so much as a phone call. He got himself a glass of water and helped himself to some fruit in the refrigerator, then sat down on the sofa to wait for her. For the first time in over 48 hours he closed his eyes and allowed himself the luxury of security and belonging. Within minutes he had drifted off to sleep. XxXxXxXxX Skinner listened to her recount the events of the past 72 hours over a cup of coffee at a Denny's between the airport and her apartment. When she had finished he didn't comment, both of them understanding that it was the same situation that they'd encountered time and again. There were no words of comfort that he could offer her to ease the disappointment over not being able to find her partner, if he were the kind of man to do such a thing, which he wasn't. He wasn't even her supervisor anymore - he was there strictly as a friend. He dropped her off in front of her apartment, not expecting to be invited in and not surprised when no offer was made. She thanked him for the ride with a polite turn of her lips, grabbed her overnight bag out of the back seat and disappeared into the building without looking back. With a sigh he pulled away from the curb, leaving her to her solitude. After retrieving her mail from her box in the building's designated mailboxes in the lobby she flipped through the bills and advertisements as she opened the door to her apartment, shut the door behind her and walked directly to the bedroom. Credit card, credit card, gas, insurance renewal...she tossed them all down on top of the bed alongside her keys and bag and wriggled out of her jacket while she toed off her shoes. Padding out of the bedroom in stocking feet she stopped dead in her tracks, her lips parting in surprise and the breath leaving her lungs, rendering her temporarily breathless. Mulder was asleep on her sofa. She stared at him, trying to regain her breathing and blinking her eyes to make sure she wasn't hallucinating. Nope - still there. Slowly she approached, her eyes running over him, the initial shock of seeing him melting into a myriad of emotions. He didn't look sick or injured. He still had all of his limbs and his arms and face were tanned a shade of dark, golden brown. His hair had grown out, softly sunbleached into a shade lighter than she'd ever seen on him before. He HAD been in the desert. They must have just missed each other. By how long? Weeks, days...hours? She stopped in front of him, her breathing still rapid to accommodate for her racing pulse. He was deep in sleep, still in a sitting position with his head slumped over to the right and his chin tucked against his chest. From the growth of beard and the overripe smell of him she deduced he'd gone several days without a bed or a shower. Tears of relief spilled out of her eyes as she reached out a tentative hand toward his forehead, pausing a millisecond before touching him, deciding not to move the strand of hair lying across his brow for fear of waking him. She pulled her hand back, and glancing over at the club chair on her left, stepped over and dragged it to the sofa, placing it beside him. She sat, and she waited. XxXxXxXxX Mulder awoke feeling dull and lethargic with a kink in his neck. Blinking a few times until his eyes adjusted to the dimness of the room, he smiled when he made out the familiar shapes and outlines of Scully's apartment. He turned his head, his eyes caught by the woman sleeping in the chair next to him. Her head was resting against the chair back and her chest rose and fell in gentle rhythm with each deep breath. He leaned his shoulder against the arm of the sofa, watching her, soaking her in. She was stunning. An exquisite creature in his depraved eyes. And small - he'd forgotten how petite she was. The way she was curled up in the chair with her legs tucked under her made her look even smaller. A soft smile played on his lips and he let out a long, slow breath of air. This is what had been sorely missing from his life for the last six months. Shifting until he was comfortable against the cushions, he laid his head back on the sofa's back, still watching her, re-memorizing every inch of her. His eyes grew heavy and he allowed them to close, sleep claiming him again as she shifted in the chair, the change in the sound of her breathing catching his attention. He raised his head slightly, glancing over at her under half-closed eyelids. She was looking at him, her face unreadable but her eyes holding his. His lips turned up in a smile and hers did the same. "Welcome back," she said softly. "Glad to be here." His voice was hoarse and scratchy from fatigue and sleep. He held her gaze, his eyes glowing under their drooping lids. "We've got a lot to catch up on." "Yes, we do." She agreed, her breath catching before she let it out slowly. "When you're ready." Mulder nodded slightly, the gentle smile still on his lips. "Soon. I promise." She nodded in response. Leaning back against the chair she watched him and he watched her until they both closed their eyes to slumber's seduction. XxXxXxXxX When he woke again there was sunlight streaming in through the blinds at her front window and she was leaning over him, backlit like the blue fairy in Pinocchio. "Scully..." he said sleepily with a smile, then he spotted the needle and syringe she held in her other hand. "Ho!" he exclaimed, trying to sit up. "Wha?" She was dressed in one of her typical suits, wearing shoes and her hair styled as neat as a pin with the cap from the syringe clenched between her teeth. "I want to do a blood workup on you." She thumped on the vein on the inside of his right elbow with her middle finger as she spoke around the cap, not looking into his eyes. He realized that it was the first time that she'd touched him since he'd come home. It was the first time anyone had touched him with love in a long, long time. He relaxed under her steady hands, laying back into the sofa cushions and grimacing as the needle entered his vein. He looked into her face and her eyes connected with his, her eyebrow raising and her lips curving mirthfully at his toothy grin. Breaking his gaze, she looked down as she pulled the needle out of his arm. "Just exactly what is it that you're looking for?" he asked, bending his elbow as she placed a cotton ball over the puncture. "Just you, hopefully," she replied, covering the needle and pulling the filled vial off of the bottom, effectively sealing it in the process. She slipped it into the pocket of her jacket and walked over to the door while he sat up, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his palms. "What time is it?" he asked with a yawn, and then a grimace as he caught of whiff of his own body odor. "Whew. More importantly, can I use your shower?" "Seven." She was crouched down by the door, fiddling around with her laptop case on the floor. "By all means, make yourself at home. I've got an 8:30 autopsy scheduled at Quantico this morning so I've got to get going." "At the Scully speed limit, you'll still be early," he commented, getting a raised eyebrow but no comment from her. The subject of her liberal use of the gas pedal had been an ongoing joke with them long before Mulder had disappeared. He blinked a few times, the reality of being back in his normal life catching up with him. "Do I still have a job?" he asked softly, looking down at his hands. She stopped fussing with the laptop case and looked up at him, letting out a long breath. Mulder needed his work like he needed to breathe or to eat. "I don't know. I imagine that will be left up to you and the OPR." He let out a soft snort, closing his eyes. He hadn't had much luck with the OPR in the past. "And the X Files?" She sighed, standing. "Skinner had them put on moratorium," her voice was gentle and tentatively she walked over to the sofa, sitting down next to him. "The office was kept the way you left it." She paused. "But we had to let your apartment go." He looked at her, reading her face. "What do they have you doing now?" Her lips pulled back into the parody of a smile without the mirth in her eyes, her eyebrows raising. The expression itself was a silent commentary on the obvious answer. "Autopsies, mostly." He leaned back, covering his face with his hands, then dropping them, staring up at the ceiling. His eyes were red and weary. She continued, her voice retaining the tone of softness. "Your belongings are safe. I've got some of them here, stored in the closet. The big things are in a storage space in the garage of Skinner's building." He turned his head and looked at her again, his eyes clouded with regret. His actions had repercussions that resounded deeply beyond his own experience, the waves reaching out to all of those who had been in his life. No one was rocked more than her. "I'm sorry I put you through all of this, Scully." She looked down, avoiding his gaze. There was a long, silent pause and she let out a loud breath before she spoke again, with a vulnerability in her voice that hadn't been there minutes ago. "Why didn't you tell me, Mulder?" He closed his eyes a moment, clenching his teeth. "I wanted to...Christ! I wanted to." He stood up, his fists clenched as he turned and faced her. He wore the expression of someone reluctantly about to deliver bad news. "There's something I have to tell you, Scully. You're not going to like it." She looked up at him, her eyes showing her concern as her lips parted and a soft breath left her lungs. "What is it?" He took a few breaths of his own, running a hand through his hair. "The chip in your neck. It sends out some kind of signal that can be tracked." He paused, shifting uncomfortably under her wide-eyed scrutiny. "I don't know the details or how it works. But it wasn't safe for you to be there with me." She looked at him a moment longer, then closed her eyes. Dropping her chin to her chest she paused, then looked down at her watch, letting out a sigh of frustration. "We'll have to continue this conversation when I get back. I don't have much leave available so I've got to go." She stood and walked stiffly over to the door, picking up the laptop case and her keys. Her hand was on the doorknob when she turned back toward him, her torment showing in her eyes as she looked up at him. "You can stay here as long as you need to, Mulder." He nodded, feeling both helpless and guilty as she turned and walked out, closing the door behind her. XxXxXxXxX Chapter Six Quantico Having him back was the only thing she'd wanted, the only thing she could focus on outside of work for the last six months. Her initial reaction upon seeing him had been an overwhelming sense of relief. When she awoke in the chair next to him and they spoke briefly in the middle of the night she was able to drift lazily back to sleep and for the first time in months, rest without the distraction of a dream. In the morning as she showered and dressed for work her perception began to take on a different slant. She crept around the apartment softly so that she wouldn't wake him, stealing long glances to reassure herself that he was still there. She couldn't believe it. Not because she didn't want to, but because a small part inside of her heart needed proof that the man in her apartment was absolutely, without a doubt Fox Mulder. She had been deceived before, in the not-so-distant past. She couldn't explain how another man could look and sound so perfectly like Mulder, but he did. All of the strange things she'd seen and experienced in her time with the X Files taught her to be more open- minded and accept that there are some things that cannot be explained. But it also reinforced her basic need to try harder to explain and prove the validity of those things to the best of her ability. The psychological implications of Mulder's latest experience and how it had altered the both of them would have to be dealt with. It would take her a while to get past some of the emotional hurt she'd endured in the process. To try to find a way to allay her concerns she turned to that with which she was the most familiar, the most effective tool she had...science. She needed to prove to herself that the DNA from the blood sample she drew matched the DNA in Mulder's file, and that there were no other substances, foreign or otherwise, at play inside Mulder's body. If she could prove the identity of the man, then she could begin to heal the emotional wounds that remained. The best way for her to deal with the emotional wounds was to maintain a degree of distance for the time being. It was something that she'd grown very adept at over the last eight years. Even though she was late for her scheduled autopsy she went directly to the lab instead, starting the polymerase chain reaction first as it would take the longest. The autopsy could wait. XxXxXxXxX Skinner Residence Alex Krycek was sitting in the back seat of his brand new sedan, sans disguise, when Walter Skinner climbed in to go to work. He might as well leave the car unlocked for all the good the security system he had purchased did him. Skinner let out an irritated sigh. "I don't know where he is," he said gruffly as he sat behind the wheel, sparing Krycek only a quick sidelong glance. He threw his briefcase in the passenger seat and gripped the steering wheel with both hands, but he made no attempt to start the engine. "Still making up for lost time with his partner, I'd imagine," Krycek replied with apathy. He sat in the middle of the back seat, both hands shoved into the pockets of his jacket. Skinner turned, shooting him a surprised look. "He's back?" "Last night. That's why I'm here." He leaned forward, his mouth open in what could almost be described as an amused smile. "I want you to do whatever you have to do to make sure he gets his files back." Skinner's hands tightened and loosened on the steering wheel. "It's not up to me." He looked up into the rearview mirror - Krycek's eyes were dark and intense as they stared back at him. "You're an Assistant Director, you've got input. Let's just say it's in your best interest to do whatever it takes to get Mulder reinstated." "Or else?" "I think you know the answer to that," Krycek replied, making eye contact with him in the mirror once more and holding his gaze before opening the rear driver side door, slipping out of the car and walking away. Skinner sat a moment, his knuckles turning white from gripping the steering wheel. He let out a breath and released the wheel, glancing back over his shoulder but seeing no sign of Krycek. He had expired at Krycek's hand one time already, only to be revived at the last possible moment. Even in the hands of Scully and the other doctors at St. Katherine's Hospital his death was only delayed a few hours, and no one, even Scully, could provide the answer to the question of how to fight the disease that ravaged his bloodstream. He was at Krycek's mercy. He knew the stakes - he was in a position to provide information but also a casualty who Krycek was prepared to dispose of if he didn't deliver. Just another pawn in a game where it was every man for himself. And ultimately, so it was with Walter Skinner. XxXxXxXxX Scully Residence After Scully left for work Mulder pulled a few boxes out of the closet and found some of his clothes without too much digging. He hadn't completely caught up on his sleep but he had several things that he wanted to do, like sweeping Scully's apartment for listening devices and starting the process for his reinstatement at the Bureau. He'd had a shower and a shave and fixed himself a bowl of cereal followed by a sandwich before returning to the sofa once again, his body moving him there without his mind's intention. Lethargy and eventually sleep won out over his best intentions, and he dozed off again, this time with the television on low for company. He'd achieved his first objective, and the Bureau came to him in the personification of Walter Skinner just before lunchtime. Skinner looked surprised when he opened the door, even though he'd spoken with Scully on the telephone and she'd confirmed that he had returned and was staying with her. Mulder greeted him as an old friend who he hadn't seen in a long time and invited him inside. "Scully had some of my things stored in her closet," he said as a sort of apology for the unusually messy state of the apartment, which Skinner found strangely territorial coming from the man who'd run off without a word six months ago. "So I was trying to find a few things." Mulder was barefoot as he crossed the living room, picking up the opened boxes and tossing them into the bedroom before closing the door. "Can I offer you something?" he babbled as he entered the kitchen, happy to have a familiar ally to talk with. "Juice, milk - Scully doesn't regularly drink soda or beer at home but I think there's some wine and I know where she's stashed a bottle of good scotch..." "I'm fine, Mulder," Skinner replied with a wave of his hand. His tone was firm enough that Mulder stopped in his tracks in front of the refrigerator and returned to the living room. He thought perhaps he was a little too exuberant for the AD's comfort, but six months with only two stony-faced men to speak to can do that to a guy. "Of course, you are on duty." It appeared that Skinner had been practicing his own stony expression while he'd been away. Skinner looked him over, noticing the changes borne in his appearance over the last six months before speaking again, his voice belying his irritation. "Where the Hell have you been, Mulder?" Mulder drew a deep breath and blew it out slowly. He had expected a confrontation at some point. "California, mostly," he replied. "Do you have any idea what you put people through by not informing anyone of your intentions or your location?" Skinner's breath was coming in short, quick bursts and his eyes flashed angrily as he spoke. "You have a responsibility to the Bureau as well as to the people in your life, Mulder. Agent Scully and myself included." Mulder closed his eyes and let out a defeated sigh before moving to the sofa and taking a seat like a scolded child. "I know that. Believe me, I didn't want it to play out the way that it did. I didn't have a choice." Skinner made no move to join him, still standing in the middle of the room. When he spoke again the accusatory tone was gone from his voice, although the authority remained. "What were you doing in California?" "I was gathering evidence on the apparent resurgence of the project we thought ended with the mass-killing at El Rico Air Force Base." His tone had become sharp and he paused. "The men involved in this project had a live extraterrestrial biological entity with them. I don't know what they were doing with it or what purpose it served. That's what I was trying to find out." Skinner closed his eyes. It just kept getting worse and worse. But it also explained a lot of things, like why Alex Krycek wanted Mulder back on the X Files. "Did you?" he asked, his voice coming out a little hoarse, "Find out anything?" Mulder shook his head. "I saw and heard things but I can't offer any proof besides my memory. That's what I need to do now - prove what I already know to be true." He stood, facing Skinner. "I need access to the X Files." Skinner nodded slightly, squinting as he studied him behind his round spectacles. That was the way it always was with Mulder and his quest. What he believed in he believed with all of his heart but nine times out of ten he couldn't prove a damn thing. For him, it was all locked in those goddamned files, including the existence of God, the keys to the pyramids and the Holy Grail. If it hadn't been for his success as a profiler and Agent Scully keeping his ass relatively focused, he wouldn't have a chance in Hell at getting his job back. But for Skinner, the thing about Mulder that made him respect him above all else was the way he held on to his beliefs in the face of all of that adversity. He and Scully got closer than anyone to actually getting that proof. And it was Scully's loyalty to Mulder above anyone else that earned his envy. Even when she'd been thoughtlessly left behind. "You abandoned your partner and your assignment, Mulder," he reminded him. "I'm aware of that, Sir. But I'm still an experienced, skilled agent with plenty to offer and that should be worth a second chance, if it's worth anything." "I'd say you're up to your fifth or sixth chance, but I stopped counting a while ago." Mulder grinned, sure of himself. Skinner let out a short huff. The former agent was a cocky son of a bitch but he had a point. And he had more talent than Skinner had seen in anyone in all of his years with the Bureau - he would have pushed for his reinstatement on that alone, regardless of Krycek's demands. He nodded again, his shoulders dropping as a small smile formed on his lips. Goddamn pain in the ass. He'd missed him. He turned and walked toward the door. Mulder made a move to follow but he raised a hand, stopping him. "Don't. I'll see myself out." He paused in the doorway, glancing back and sighing. "Come by tomorrow and we'll talk about what it will take to get you reinstated." Mulder responded with a solemn nod, a gleam lighting up his eyes. XxXxXxXxX Scully Residence When she came home from work they sat down and he told her everything. Krycek's visit in the middle of the night, his promise of returning him within 24 hours, Ulrich, Ellens Air Force Base, seeing the E.B.E., following the trucks, and then all about the physical conditioning and the development of his ability. She sat silently, listening carefully as he had done with her so often in the past. The conversation went on into the late hours of the evening. By the time he came to the parts where he'd made contact with the E.B.E.; described what it had said to him; the amazing craft overhead; and how the men had disappeared in the flash of light, she was able to add her own experience to his story. They were sitting on the sofa together, close but not touching, and she remained silent, letting the full impact of the story sink in. He watched her face, wanting to touch her, allowing her as much time as she needed. It was a lot to swallow in one evening. After a while she cleared her throat and spoke softly, "So now are you gonna tell me that Alex Krycek is one of the good guys?" He thought about her question, drawing a deep breath. "I don't condone what he's done in the past, and I don't approve of his methods. But I can say with certainty that he's on our side. We're all working for the same results." "Except we don't kill innocent people as we're doing so," she replied, glancing up into his eyes. He understood her issues with Krycek. He shared many of those issues himself. "I'm not saying that it was easy for me to be there with him, knowing the pain he's caused in our lives. We didn't sit around and share stories about Boy Scout camp." She offered a slight, sardonic smile at his joke and he continued. "But the fact remains that he knew about the project and he wants to stop it as much as we do." "He used you, Mulder." "He needed me to help him find a way to stop it." Her eyes were wide and serious. "And what happens now? What's going to stop others from using you as well? Especially the people working on the project..." "They don't know about it." "How do you know? You said they've been watching us for months, listening to our conversations, spying on our most private moments...they must know you're here now." He stood, giving her a look, then walked in to her bathroom and returned with the small waste can, holding it out toward her. "I took care of that this morning." She leaned forward and looked inside. There were several small listening devices, all crushed. She let out a long breath, incensed that they had been there for God knows how long, and relieved that he'd removed and destroyed them. "You got them all?" she asked, looking up at him searchingly. His eyes were dark and his face determined. "All of them." She closed her eyes and leaned back into the sofa cushions. He sat next to her, reaching out to take her hand but deciding not to. He wasn't going to push her. After a moment she opened her eyes and looked at him. "This ability you've developed, Mulder..." she paused, licking the corner of her mouth, "have you..." He cut her off before she could continue with a shake of his head and a firm, "No. No, I haven't and I won't. Not you." She looked at him, then dropped her eyes and nodded slightly. Then she stood slowly, letting her muscles stretch after sitting for so long. "I'm going to turn in," she said without looking at him again, her tone indicating that she meant alone. He smiled to cover his disappointment. "I'm going to hang here and watch 'The Sopranos', catch up on what I've missed. I hear Pussy got whacked." She stepped around his feet and walked toward the bedroom, pausing at the doorway to turn and look at him. Her expression was unreadable. "Goodnight, Mulder." He looked up, in his eyes a mixture of disappointment and understanding. "Goodnight, Scully." He clicked on the television and waited until he heard the bedroom door close before letting out a sigh of frustration. He understood that she was trying to deal with the situation in her own way but he didn't like it. He hadn't expect her to throw herself into his arms at first sight of him...well, truthfully, he had. He wanted to pull her into his arms and bury his face in her neck since the moment he saw her curled up in that chair. But it was different, being the one who left as opposed to the one left behind. While he was on his own pursuits Scully had to deal with the uncertainty of not knowing where he'd gone or why he'd left, if he was safe or even alive and if she'd had anything to do with it. They had been through separations before, but when you're just good friends there are certain things that you don't consider. But when you're good friends AND lovers there are other implications and the scenario takes on a different slant. Feelings are involved, taking on more importance, commitments implied whether they were spoken or not. Although they had been silently in love with each other for a long time, by the time he'd left everything was out in the open and there was no room for doubt in either mind how they felt. They both understood that what brought them together was more than chance or a random series of events. They belonged together. He didn't see how she could doubt his feelings for her now...unless her own had changed. That was a situation he didn't want to consider. He wasn't getting that vibe from her, though. No, it was more like before - before they'd become lovers, before she'd accepted her life's path and his place in it and let him inside. He was still as much a part of her as she was him. She just wasn't ready to make it all-encompassing once again. So like before, he would wait for her. XxXxXxXxX She couldn't sleep. She couldn't hear the television in the other room, but the soft bluish light beneath her bedroom door flickered every so often. That wasn't the problem though. She couldn't stop thinking. About German priests and scripture reciting aliens and Alex Krycek and Mulder reading people's thoughts like the Stupendous Yappi. About the results of the PCR test that she was waiting on, hoping that it would silence her fears about the man in the next room. It was truly a fantastic story, and definitely worthy of Mulder...if they could prove any of it. Several of the things that he'd told her didn't make sense. Like claiming that Krycek could be trusted - that wasn't something she would have expected from Mulder after all that they had suffered at that man's hands. She wasn't certain that she would be able to accept help from Krycek even if it were true. And what of the alleged mind reading ability? That would have to be tested and proven in a controlled environment. God, if it were true... Physically he appeared to be relatively healthy and unharmed but his appearance had changed since she'd seen him last. Her mouth had fallen open when he stood up from the sofa that morning and she'd seen for the first time how he had filled out - his chest and shoulders were as broad as Skinner's now. He was still lean, but much more muscular than before. Looking into his eyes, listening to his voice as he told her all about his adventure, she could believe. He thought like Mulder, used the same speech patterns as Mulder, expressed himself like Mulder. And he looked at her the way Mulder did. He made her feel the way Mulder did. But her feelings, or more importantly, her heart, was the thing that she had to protect. She'd like nothing more than to ask him into her bed and subsequently into her heart the way she had done one spiritually enlightened night months ago - it seemed like forever ago now. Their romantic involvement had been brief but it was more satisfying than any other relationship she had ever been involved in. Before she could open herself up like that again she had to be certain. Absolutely certain. The light that had been flickering underneath the doorway stopped flickering and she wondered if he was still awake, or if he was even there. Her brow furrowed and she threw the comforter aside, climbing out of bed and crossing over to the door barefoot. She paused, listening, and tentatively opened the door. She would just take one more look, just to make sure he was still there. He was sitting in the middle of the sofa watching some dark, spooky looking movie, still dressed in the button down shirt and jeans he'd been wearing earlier. He sensed her presence and turned his head, only to catch her standing in the shadows. "Is everything okay?" he asked, standing and turning to face her. The scene on television changed, casting more light into the room and concern etching into his face off of the look on hers. He had seen that look a few times and it always made him uneasy. She looked up at him, still wearing the same unreadable expression. Her brow was still furrowed with concentration and she crossed the room in several swift steps, stopping just in front of him, her eyes focused intently on his chest. Reaching up, she deftly unbuttoned his shirt with singular purpose. His lips parted in surprise but he stood silently still, regulating his breathing, his arms remaining at his sides, uncertain about what she was doing or what she wanted from him. He wanted to touch her. She was so close that he could smell the fragrance of her hair. God, he'd missed her so fiercely in the six months he'd been away that he'd found himself looking for and recreating specific reminders just to get him through, such as the fragrance of her hair or the distinct sound of her gait as her heels hit the hard floor. That morning, even, he'd stood in her shower with his nose buried in the shampoo bottle and his hand wrapped around his cock until the water started to turn cold. She pushed the shirt over his shoulders and down his arms, placing her fingers on his chest as his shirt floated to the floor. Her hands were warm and she stared at his exposed torso, her eyes intense. The room was dim, but the television gave off enough for her to be able to see him. He was bigger than he used to be, if this was really Mulder. Harder, the muscle mass more dense. That would be from all of the physical training he'd described. His hands were clenching and unclenching in loose fists as her fingers came up to his left shoulder and touched the small scar, prodding it, feeling it. She knew this - yes, it looked the same. She circled around him slowly, her occasional glancing touch turning his skin to gooseflesh and causing his heart to pound in his chest, the blood rushing south. She reached up and felt the smooth skin behind his neck, running her fingers up into his hair and finding no evidence of scarring, then proceeding with her examination of the rest of his back. When she came full circle to stand in front of him once more she ran the back of her fingers down his chest, over his Pectoralis Major and down his Rectus Abdominis. 'Six pack' the trainer at the gym called it - the muscles flexing inward involuntarily from her touch as he gasped softly. "What are you trying to do, kill me?" he whispered hoarsely. She didn't respond to his reaction. His breathing grew shallow as she placed her palms flat over his chest, pressing against him lightly, feeling the resistance of flesh and muscle and his resounding heartbeat. He forced himself to breathe regularly. It was a doctor's touch - he didn't think her actions were intended to arouse, although she was arousing him just the same. "Is it really you, Mulder?" she asked, more as a rhetorical question than a question requiring a response. She leaned her cheek against his chest, listening to his rapid heartbeat. Then she turned her head so that his forehead rest just over his heart and drew in a deep breath - yes, despite the use of her shampoo in the shower that morning he smelled like Mulder, too. He raised his hands and let them rest gently on her silk clad shoulders, allowing her the freedom to pull away if his touch was unwanted. She responded by lifting her head, her eyes wide and searching as they met his dark, aroused eyes. He let out the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. "Who do you think I am if I'm not me, Scully?" he asked, his voice rough but holding a hint of surprise. He knew she wouldn't answer the question, just as he had a pretty good idea what she was doing and why. Her breath caught as his hands came up to cradle her face. She clutched his upper arms loosely in her hands, holding herself steady as she looked into his eyes. Nobody else ever looked at her like that except Mulder. "Scully," he said softly, affectionately, almost an admonishment, rubbing his thumbs against her cheeks while his eyes confirmed without question that the man inside and out was Fox Mulder. He wiped the moisture away from the outer corners of her eyes and bent down to place a tender, soft kiss against her forehead, pulling back to look at her once again. "What will it take to convince you?" Her breathing was as shallow as his when she looked up at him. The need and the desire to reconnect with him became too powerful and slowly her lips parted as he leaned down to press his against hers. His lips were soft and his mouth was warm. She had adored kissing Mulder - just after they'd become romantically involved they had spent whole evenings doing what she remembered as nothing more than kissing and dozing before drifting off to sleep. Their kiss now was similar to those kisses she'd shared with Mulder in the past; sweet and tentative, passionate but not to the point of distraction. He drew a deep breath without taking his lips away from hers and deepened the kiss, pulling her closer, responding the only way his body would allow after being apart from her for so long. He was ready; he wanted to make love to her. Maybe if he showed her how he felt about her, she would be convinced. But she broke the kiss and stepped back, the niggling doubt keeping her from allowing it to go any further. She had to use her head. After all of the emotional trauma that she'd been through the last six months she had to be positive that it was all behind them. "What will it take to convince you?" he repeated again softly. His eyes showed his hurt, but he made no move to pull her back into an embrace. She struggled to catch her breath as she watched him, still looking for something that would give him away as a fraud but only seeing the man that she remembered. She was dealing with a lot of conflicting emotions that would have to be worked out. "Time," she replied after a pause. "We've both been through a difficult time to say the least. We need to put it behind us and figure out how to go forward. I need to be certain..." She looked away, leaving the rest of her sentence unspoken and he nodded his acceptance. He knew she needed to feel secure about him without worrying that he was going to run off and leave her the same way again. It hurt to have her trust in him stretched so thin, but he knew that he deserved it - she had been as patient as a saint already. He remembered how he'd felt when she'd gone off with the smoker without telling him and that had only been a few days. As much as he wanted things to be the way they had been before, he owed it to her to give her a little of the same. "If that's what it's gonna take, then take all the time you need. Time is the one thing that I have in abundance to give right now." She looked up at him again and gave him a slight, almost imperceptible smile before stepping back, the shadows masking her expression once again. Then she turned and went back into the bedroom, closing the door behind her. At least she didn't lock it, he thought to himself. He wouldn't venture in unless invited, but at least she trusted him enough to realize that. It wasn't much, but it was something. XxXxXxXxX Chapter Seven The blood typing, toxicology and PCR reports all confirmed that the man staying in her home was Fox Mulder. Other than a slightly lower than usual but very healthy cholesterol count, there was nothing unusual about him. The results were in around mid-morning, leaving her with a little time on her hands before she was due in Skinner's office at one to discuss Mulder's reinstatement. Mulder had taken the bus from her apartment to the Hoover Building early that morning and Skinner's assistant had called her just after ten a.m. to set up the meeting. She saw that as a good sign. She was relieved by the positive outcome of the tests. The science can't be refuted. But that did little to relieve her conflicting emotions about wanting to resume the relationship as it had been just before Mulder left and wanting to protect herself from another hurt as big as the once she'd just endured. Which was why she was now sitting in the chapel of St. Cyril, just outside of Washington, D.C. She'd passed by the small church nearly every day since she'd been reassigned to Quantico, and the quaint, New England style architecture always drew her attention. It was unusual to see such a structure in this area - it seemed more appropriate for a small town. That morning, for some unknown reason, she'd been inclined to stop on her way back into the city. She needed to think and this seemed like the perfect place to do it. There was nothing remarkable about the church. It was Ecumenical, small, the pews and altar constructed of a nice, dark mahogany and the tile floor clean and shiny. There were two large mixed bouquets of beautiful fresh flowers on either side of the altar, presumably from a recent wedding over the weekend, and the pleasant, sweet floral aroma permeated the air. There was a service in progress, the pastor just standing up for the gospel as she took a seat in an empty pew near the back. The church was small and relatively unpopulated - not surprising for a weekday service. The only other person in her immediate vicinity was a man in black two rows ahead. She felt strangely at peace there, like she belonged. The pastor began his sermon and Scully bowed her head, partly listening and partly thinking about her own situation. She trusted Mulder with her life and she loved him like no other person in her life. He was everything. But that was the problem - no one can be everything to someone, there had to be a balance. The only balance that she could see in the equation was that she appeared to be everything to Mulder as well. By her estimation, that made the both of them equally screwed. A word the pastor spoke caught her attention and she raised her head, listening. "...and what of destiny? Perhaps you feel that you were destined to meet significant people in your lifetime, but what are the qualities of those relationships now? It is no longer up to destiny to determine how we have chosen to think, feel and act toward those people in our lives, and that includes ourselves. We all get caught up in the day to day hustle and bustle...I know I do. We become preoccupied with the mechanics of life, with fear, doubt, worry...and we forget about the mechanics of the heart, to share the best of ourselves with those we love. "It is our choice, our WILL, to love every single day. Life engages us every day with opportunities to express the love of the Creator. Most of these situations involve other people, whether they are family, friends, acquaintances, co-workers, or people that we encounter briefly in everyday life. Love can come without the least effort, but it is also the thing worthy of the most effort we can give it." Scully realized she had been holding her breath and she let it out slowly, blinking back sudden tears filling her eyes. She felt as if the pastor was speaking to her, that he knew what was in her heart at that very moment. That he had seen the conflict inside of her and was addressing her personally, touching her deepest emotions. He continued to speak about love and the Creator's desire that we love one another with a pure heart, but she could only stare at him with unseeing eyes, thinking of the words that she had just heard. 'It is our choice to make the most out of the love we've been given...the thing worthy of the most effort we can give it.' She was still considering the words as the pastor prepared the sacrament of communion. No one would fault her for wanting to step away and allow time and distance to heal her heart. It would be the safest, most logical thing to do. But if Mulder were to leave again, if something were to take him away from her, would it hurt any less then? Would she accept vindication in her decision to remain sheltered...or would she forever regret not spending the time that she had with him to the fullest? An elderly woman was singing in a shaky voice, "See that you love one another, with a pure heart, fervently," and Scully stood, walking up the short center aisle to accept the host. On her way back to her seat the man in black caught her eye - literally. He was wearing a priest's vestments, and something about him seemed vaguely familiar, although she couldn't put a name with his face. He held her gaze a few moments, until she looked away. Following the service she remained in her seat until all but she and the priest in black had exited the chapel. They both stood at the same time, and she gave him a polite smile as they exited into the late morning sunshine, she one step ahead of him. The pastor of the church was standing to the left, speaking with two elderly women who had been in attendance. Scully could feel the priest's eyes on her as she walked down the front steps and she turned to look at him once more, a look of confusion on her face. "I'm sorry, Father...but have we met before?" The way he looked into her eyes was familiar, but he shook his head. "No, we have not." She nodded, and turned to leave when he spoke again, "I sense you are experiencing some doubt...?" There was a slight accent in his voice and she shook her head slightly, a look of confusion on her face as she smiled apologetically. "No, not if you say we haven't met. Perhaps you remind me of someone else." He just looked at her, his gaze becoming uncomfortable for her and she looked down. "What did you think of the gospel?" he asked after a long moment. She drew in a deep breath. "It was very..." she let out a huff, touching her tongue to the corner of her mouth. "Timely," she replied. "It had meaning for you, then?" She looked past him at the board by the entrance to the chapel. The title for the day's sermon was listed as 'Get Thee Behind Me, Satan.' Strange that the title didn't fit the sermon. The day and date were correct. She looked back at the priest and nodded. "Yes. I have some issues to sort out. Personal issues." He nodded. "Are there others involved?" She paused. "Yes. One other person in particular." "God has given us free will to make choices for ourselves. He wants us to learn how to use our freedom and exercise our independent nature, but in a way that benefits ourselves and others." She looked at him, thinking. She knew what choice she needed to make, just as she realized that it had been her own choice to squirrel herself away from the rest of the world while she was looking for Mulder. She could have stayed in the basement office investigating X Files in his absence, but the Bureau's decision that she search for him on her own time and at her own expense made it fruitless to stay there. Bearing the expense of the search only made her job security that much more important. She had thought that the emotional reminder of being in the basement amongst Mulder's files and effects would be too much for her to deal with on a daily basis. But in hindsight, it might have helped her deal with her pain if she'd chosen to go on investigating X Files as she continued to look for him. For she knew deep in her heart that she wasn't an incomplete person for the absence of Mulder, but rather, she was a complete person for everything that she and Mulder had shared in their years together. She could have handled the X Files on her own, and done an excellent job at that. But she wouldn't have been as effective as she would having Mulder there with her. It was his energy and his passion that drove them forward, just as it was her attention to detail and insistence on gathering all of the facts before drawing conclusions that kept them focused. She allowed him to be all that he could be, just as he allowed that in her. Alone, she would have walked the middle ground. All in all, it wasn't as if she had not been aware of what she was doing when she'd transferred back to Quantico, but it seemed like the simplest thing to do at the time. It seemed likely that Mulder would get his job back now, and would certainly want her back on the X Files with him. Without her, it would be the middle ground for him as well. Of course, she would go in a heartbeat. Which only left her with her personal feelings for the man to decipher. Should she protect her heart and continue doing what she'd been doing for the past six months, and for nearly eight years before that - following the safest emotional path... or choose that which would require the most effort...that which would offer the most reward but was also the most uncertain path? Opening herself up to Mulder the first time had been the biggest risk she had ever taken. Doing it again would be the second. The priest was still watching her, almost as if he were listening to her thoughts. "Thank you, Father." She smiled gratefully, finally feeling some sense of resolution as her choice became clearer. He nodded, a strange look in his eye as he held her gaze a moment longer, then turned and walked down the steps, heading off alone down the sidewalk. It occurred to her then how strange it was that a priest would be in attendance at a weekday service in a small, seemingly ordinary Ecumenical church. But then again, she rationalized, perhaps his presence was no more unusual than her own. XxXxXxXxX F.B.I. Headquarters, Washington, D.C. Mulder wouldn't need to go through the Office of Professional Conduct to be reinstated. Once he told Skinner the complete story of his disappearance, the fact that Alex Krycek was involved and had drawn a gun on him was enough to turn Mulder's official status from abandonment of his assignment to abduction at the hands of a suspected felon. Like Scully years ago, he would be reinstated to active duty with full benefits with nothing more than a creatively worded recommendation by the Assistant Director, a clean bill of health from his doctor and the ever-present, required paperwork. Skinner had already spoken on the telephone with Scully's immediate supervisor at Quantico about her transfer back to the X Files. As long as she was made available for consultation and could handle an autopsy or two until they replaced the headcount there wouldn't be any problem signing her back into the charge of Assistant Director Skinner immediately. Silently she sat across from the A.D. without masking her surprise at the expedient turn of events. She would be irritated at their assumption that she wanted to return to the X Files, if it hadn't been true. Equally surprising was the fact that Mulder wasn't even in the room with them. Noting his absence, she expected to hear that he'd been sent down to Karen Kossoff for psychological evaluation, or perhaps he was at the range brushing up on his target practice for the mandatory firearm re-certification. When Skinner told her that he was down in the basement waiting for her she couldn't hide the smile that took over her entire face. XxXxXxXxX Mulder sat balanced precariously on the rear two wheels of his desk chair, his legs up on the desk and his arms tucked behind his head, surveying his kingdom. Scully hadn't exaggerated - everything was exactly as he had left it, pencils stuck to the ceiling tiles and all. Perhaps she would explain to him the law of physics and how it applied to that little anomaly. When he heard through the open doorway the familiar, quick-paced click of her heels on the linoleum as she walked down the hall he closed his eyes, a beatific smile taking over his face. He was home. She stopped in the doorway, taking in the sight. Mulder was dressed in the familiar charcoal suit, blue shirt and striped tie, feet up on the desk, a shit-eating grin on his face. She wanted to weep from the beauty of it. She couldn't help herself - she burst out laughing. Her silly, giggly, infectious laugh filled him with joy and he wanted to run over, grab her and swing her around the room and yell, 'We're home!' He settled for a sarcastic grin and the slightly used phrase from long ago, "Nobody here but the F.B.I.'s most unwanted." "I wouldn't say 'unwanted'," she replied, walking toward him. "They kept your office intact for six months. Paperwork and perfunctory medical examinations aside, you were re-instated in less than a day." She stopped directly in front of his desk, crossing her arms in front of her in the pose he was all-too familiar with. "I'd say you are definitely wanted by the F.B.I., Mulder." "Amazing, isn't it?" he asked wide-eyed, without a trace of sarcasm in his voice. "Amazing should have been your middle name." He grinned, his eyes sparking at the comment. He wasn't going to touch that one under the circumstances. "Oooo," he replied instead, pursing his lips and letting out a soft "ah" with a slight grin before sitting up and pulling a file off of the top of the stack behind the desk. He remembered this game well. When he spoke again his voice took on the familiar tone of the lecturer. "I found the files on El Rico, Cassandra Spender and Gibson Praise, in addition to the notes we'd compiled following the bombing of the Federal Building in Dallas and our little side trip to Antarctica." He glanced up at her, "Plus, anything that had any remote reference to an E.B.E., including the "Alien Abduction" video, Dr. Zama and the secret railroad." To the best of her memory, there were strong similarities between the retrofitted tanker trucks in Trona, Mulder's recent experience and all of the cases he mentioned. She met his eyes, then peered over his desk. On the floor next to him was a stack of files, at least three feet high. He stood, shaking down his pants legs. "How about we take these home, stop by and pick up one of those deluxe, deep-dish, Chicago- style pizzas from Uno's that I've been dreaming about for the last six months, and see if something jumps out at us based on the new information we've acquired?" She drew in a breath and held it, then let it out again. That was the Mulder she knew and loved, out of the frying pan and right back into the fire. He was probably expecting her to respond with a logical reason why they should wait a few days before jumping in with both feet, but the truth was, she wanted back in as much as he did, if not more. Still, she had to point out the obvious. "You're not officially back on the payroll until you pass your examinations." "So I've got plenty of time to kill," he replied with a grin. Six months of nothing but dead people, she reminded herself. She was beginning to feel like that kid in "The Sixth Sense," only the dead people she saw were inanimate. She was more than ready for a little excitement, even if it involved a stack of files almost as tall as she. "Then why wait?" she replied, a self-satisfied smile playing at her lips off of his surprised look. "Let's get started." XxXxXxXxX Scully Residence Scully pulled off her reading glasses and placed them in front of her on the coffee table, squeezing the bridge of her nose between her thumb and forefinger. "What I can't figure out is what kind of tests were being performed on the entity you saw, and why you saw no one else come and go besides the person who delivered the supplies." They had been at it for hours, the pizza and leftovers long since consumed, along with several pots of coffee. Mulder was on his feet, pacing off his unaccustomed caffeine buzz while they debated the points that had been raised from reexamining the files. "I don't know, maybe there were others and we never saw them. Maybe they kept them inside the trucks along with It." He had been throwing out ideas all evening, his mind seemingly working overtime to keep up with the caffeine racing through his system. "I saw those trucks, Mulder. Maybe they would have been able to keep one other person inside and even that would be at great discomfort, unless that person..." she didn't finish her statement. Mulder was poking around the mantle, touching the photographs and picking up the knick-knacks. "What?" he asked, then stopped, turning to look at her, "Unless that person was unconscious?" She looked down and nodded. "We could only hope. Consider the alternative." "If there was such a person," he added, his inflection stressing the word 'if', "And we have no evidence to suggest that." She stood up stiffly from where she had been sitting Indian-style on the floor, slowly letting the vertebrae in her spine straighten, one by one. "Other than what you saw and a couple of abandoned trucks that are probably long gone, we have no evidence whatsoever." Mulder watched her, and from the late hour, the tired look on her face and the tone of finality in her voice, he knew that she was about to say goodnight. With a silent sigh, he walked over to the closet and pulled out a set of sheets and what she recognized as the old comforter from his own bed. "What are you doing?" she asked, stopping in mid-stretch and dropping her arms to her sides. "Just getting my bed ready," he replied. "You're going to bed now?" She said it like she was disappointed, with a little irritation thrown in for color. "I don't have to. I thought..." one look at her face and he put the bedding back in the closet, closing the door, then turning to face her. She sat down on the sofa. "About those scriptures, Mulder...can you remember specifically which ones you heard?" He blew out a breath of air, his cheeks puffing out in the process as he thought a moment. "I am the light of the world." She nodded. "What else?" "Everlasting life. Uh, Book of Revelation...the dead rising to the Lord. Salvation." She stared at him wide-eyed, her mind obviously working as she did so. "Can you be more specific? A specific verse, or, or...the correlating chapter and verse number...?" He closed his eyes, concentrating. "'I will give you a new heart and put a new spirit in you; I will remove you from your heart of stone and give you a heart of flesh. And I will put my Spirit in you and move you to follow my decrees and be careful to keep my laws.'" He opened his eyes. "It said that just before I heard your voice." Scully stared past him, mumbling, "...with a pure heart, fervently." "What was that?" he asked, catching only the last part of the sentence. "Something I heard today." She looked up at him. "I stopped by a church today, just before I met with Skinner. I'd seen it, but I'd never been there before. There was a priest there, Mulder, sitting in the back during the service. He spoke to me afterward." "What did he say?" "He looked at me like he knew me, although I asked if we'd met before and he said with certainty that we hadn't. And then he said something about free will and God's desire for us to make choices that benefit others." He chewed on his bottom lip thoughtfully. "What do you think he meant by that?" She looked up at him and he realized that she was about to tell him something very significant. "What? Scully, what is it?" She hadn't expected to get into this tonight, but it looked like it was inevitable. "While I was speaking to him I realized something, Mulder." She paused. "I realized that I have to look past my fear and choose to live my life in the way that will be the most beneficial to others, but especially to myself." He shook his head, replying vehemently, "You do that, Scully. Every day. You're the most fearless person I know." "You don't know, Mulder. You haven't seen me the last six months." She looked directly into him, the intensity of her gaze making him nervous. He swallowed and shifted from foot to foot, still trying to deal with the caffeine in addition to his nerves. "Well, maybe you should think about this a while before you make a sudden decision that could effect the rest of your life." She stood and walked over to him, the look in her eyes tender, almost apologetic, like she was about to give him some very important news. She placed a hand on his cheek and he felt a sudden, irrational fear well up inside of his belly. Oh God, she was going to dump him. "I was lost," she said softly, absently brushing her thumb softly against his cheek. He closed his eyes to the sensation, bracing himself for the big kiss-off, but she remained silent. He opened his eyes to see her watching his face intently. Notably, his mouth. "But...?" he interjected, waiting for her judgement. As she started to rise up on the balls of her feet, leaning toward him, he understood that she wanted to kiss him and held still, closing his eyes again, scared shitless that this was it. It was a sweet kiss, but it didn't feel like goodbye. It felt more like...hello. Maybe even I missed you. He opened his eyes once more as their lips parted and she was very close, her eyes searching his. He couldn't stop himself from leaning in and capturing her lips between his once more. "I missed you so much," she whispered against his mouth, returning to the kiss as she wrapped her arms around his neck. She opened her mouth, and when her tongue encountered his she whimpered, the feeling of liquidity flowing through her body clear down to her toes and centering somewhere in the middle. Mulder...yes, this...THIS is Mulder. If this was how it was going to be saying goodnight every night at her apartment, he wondered how long it would take her to drive him over the edge of insanity. When they pulled apart for air, he voiced that thought, resting his hands on her shoulders. "Are you deliberately trying to drive me crazy?" She kissed him again, her hands sliding up underneath his T-shirt and stroking the skin on his back. He groaned, his grip on her shoulders tightening as he gently pulled back. "Last night you said you needed some time to think. I'm not reading your mind, Scully, I promised I wouldn't, although it sure as hell would give me some clue about what you're thinking. I need you to tell me what this means." She looked at him a moment, drawing a deep breath. "It means that I've realized that you and I can function separately, but we both work better together." He let out a long breath of relief and nodded, a slight smile on his lips. Letting go of her shoulders, he reached up a hand to caress her cheek with the backs of his fingers. "That's hardly news, Scully. We've been partners longer than Ruth Bader Ginsburg has been in the Supreme Court." She smiled, knowing he understood what she meant but he wanted her to spell it out for him, anyway. "I wasn't talking only about work, Mulder." He looked into her eyes with a look of pure joy mixed with a healthy amount of desire. "So..." His hands slid down her back to cup her bottom and he pulled her lower body up against his gently, letting her feel his arousal without grinding against her. "You're certain." Her head fell back as she felt him pressing against her and she replied breathlessly, "I'm certain." With that, he began placing kisses down her neck, bending her back as he molded his body to hers. She couldn't help but touch him, his shoulders, arms, back - feeling his solid flesh in her hands. She needed to convey her emotions to him, how much she'd missed him. How much she wanted him. How much she loved him, would always love him in spite of everything, including her own fears. Mulder needed the contact, had craved it for months while they were apart. She fanned her fingers out and pressed against the skin of his back again, her fingertips slightly kneading the flesh. God, he was so...big. Hard. Everywhere. The more she became aware of it, the more she was actually becoming seriously aroused by it. When his hot mouth left her neck, she took the opportunity to capture it with hers again, the kiss growing deeper and more intense the longer it continued. He pulled back with reluctance and looked at her, asking silently for her consent. She took a step away from him, understanding that it was her offer to make and he wanted there to be no room for misunderstanding. Looking down, she took his hand in hers, weaving their fingers together and turning them over. They were so different - his hand big and dark and hers smaller and pale - yet they still fit together. Not uniform, but complementary. Different but perfectly balanced. She looked up into his face and he looked up from their joined hands, meeting her gaze. With a warm smile she led him slowly and deliberately into the back, through the short hallway to the bedroom. They undressed each other slowly, their eyes meeting frequently and pausing from time to time for a warm smile or a reverent caress. When they slid between the sheets he leaned over her and kissed her slowly, setting the tempo for the rest of the evening. Their lovemaking was passionate like new lovers, with the joy of old friends reuniting after a long time apart. The flutter of an eyelid, a soft smile, the drawing and releasing of breath in a gasp or a sigh - all things were a meaningful part of the coupling. It was familiar and natural, like the way unpracticed fingers lined up on a keyboard, automatically knowing, despite years without use, which keys to strike. And as they lay together in sated lassitude afterward, kissing and dozing the way she so fondly remembered, they both had the confirmation they sought. That after years of fighting fate, this was the way it was meant to be with them. Together they were one perfectly complete entity. XxXxXxXxX The soft snick of the front door closing woke her and she blinked the sleep out of her eyes. Sunlight was streaming in through the edges of the blinds and she was temporarily confused, having slept like the dead the entire night. It was a luxurious feeling but she sat up quickly, realizing that Mulder wasn't with her in the bed. "Mulder?" She said, already throwing back the comforter as the unbidden thought occurred to her that he might be gone. No. Oh no. She rushed out into the living room, her eyes wide and her lungs feeling like they would explode. Then she encountered Mulder, soaking in the sunlight coming in through the opened blinds of the front window. His tanned skin glowed golden, his hair outlined with a white halo as he perused the newspaper, wearing a pair of faded old button-fly jeans partially buttoned, and his old reading glasses. He looked up when she entered the room, his lips curving up in surprise as his eyes traveled over her. In a very un-Scully like impulse she had neglected to put on any clothing and now he had an unadulterated vision of his partner in full daylight; translucent skin with a smattering of tiny freckles where it came in contact with the sun, copper red hair messed and makeup washed away. Holy shit, what a sight. He had been too long in the company of nothing but men not to be affected by it. Some things in life happen without warning and he could only stare at her as all of his blood ran south once again. "Hey Scully," he said, swallowing, trying to keep his voice from cracking. She stared at him, drawing in deep breaths, blinking her eyes at the image before her like a child staring at Santa Claus. He had opened a few more boxes and they surrounded him, some of the contents laid out on the coffee table for closer examination. "I heard the door," she said hoarsely. Not all of the oxygen had left his brain and he realized that she must have assumed that he'd left rather than just stepped out to pick up the paper. He might be angry over her assumption that he'd sneak out on her, especially when she'd just let him back in and they had spent the better part of the evening and early morning wrapped around each other in the most intimate of ways. But the expression she now wore was a testament to how deeply she'd been hurt over his unexplained absence. He frowned instead, silently berating himself. She had been able to forgive him but there was still a lot of emotional healing that had to take place. He thought he knew something that might help in that regard, at least as far as letting her know where HIS intentions lay. It was a bit of a risk, but a risk he'd spent a lot of time thinking about and had wanted to take for a long time. He approached her, dropping the paper on the coffee table and keeping his eyes on her face while he took her hand in his. "Come over here, Scully, I want to show you something." He paused, looking her over a moment before looking into her eyes again. "Uh...are you comfortable like that?" She realized he was referring to her state of undress and smiled self-consciously, looking around the living room and spotting one of his black T-shirts lying on the top of a newly opened box nearby. He spotted the shirt at the same time and reached past her with one arm to grab it. "Not that I mind, of course," he added quickly with a cocky grin as he handed the shirt to her. She threw him an admonishing look and he released her hand long enough for her to slide the shirt over her head, the hem falling mid-thigh. Then she raised her eyebrows at him in question and he led her over to the sofa. She sat, indifferent to anything around them except what he had to say. He sat next to her, her hand still in his, and he gave it a gentle squeeze. "First..." he smiled softly, leaning in and kissing her lips tenderly, "Good morning." She looked into his eyes, the previous look of panic in hers replaced by a warm glow and a slight smile on her lips. "Good morning. You're up early." "Not so early," he replied, tucking the ever-stubborn strand of hair behind her ear as he'd done so often in the past. "I woke up around six-thirty. I watched you sleep a while, then decided I'd go out and get the paper before I woke you." The look in her eyes grew serious. "Did you find something in this morning's paper?" she asked. "No..." he reached over and picked up a small, battered tin box off of the coffee table, turning it over and over in his hands. "I've only read the basketball scores so far." He grinned, and she grinned back at his predictability, then his expression turned somber once again. "I found this in one of the boxes that you'd packed and stored for me." He took a breath, letting it out slowly before continuing. "It's something that I've wanted to give you since I came across it cleaning out my mother's house just after she passed away. We got wrapped up in another case...I let too many things get in the way...I don't know why I held on to it for as long as I did. But it belongs to you - I guess in a way it always has." He held it out to her, looking into her eyes. "I want you to have it now." She swallowed, looking down from his grave face to the box in his hand. "What is it?" For all she knew, it could be another microchip. Placing the box in her palm, he closed her fingers around it and looked into her eyes earnestly. "Open it." She studied him a moment, trying to read the masked expression in his eyes, then slid the top off of the box, finding a small piece of chamois inside. Unfolding the chamois carefully, she revealed a petite antique gold ring, the setting a square cut half-carat emerald flanked by two smaller marquis cut quarter-carat diamonds. She let out a small breath, her expressive eyebrows rising briefly as she examined the ring by holding it up in the light. The craftsmanship was exquisite - it must have been the epitome of luxury in its time. She thought it was even more exquisite with age - she'd seen nothing like it adorning the catalog pages and store windows. "It's beautiful," she said at last, her voice catching. "It's very old. It was my great-grandmother's," he said softly, then swallowed back the lump in his throat. Her breath hitched and she looked up at him, her eyes clearly the most beautiful shade of aquamarine he'd even seen. His mouth felt like cotton as he captured the ring from her fingers and took her left hand in his, sliding the ring onto her ring finger while she watched silently. "We'll have to have it sized," he commented with a nervous grin, the ring passing over her knuckle with room to spare. It wasn't that big, really - just a little loose. She deduced that Mulder's great-grandmother must have been where he got his height. She smiled, holding it in place with the fingers of her other hand while she hunched over to look at it more closely. "You're the only family I've got left now, Scully," he said solemnly. She didn't look up but from his perspective she looked like she was about to cry, her expression a mixture of wonderment and overwhelming awe. "You don't have to say anything right now. I know you're going to want time to think, unless the answer is no...you can go ahead and tell me now if it is...just...say it...get it out there." He gestured with his arm to make his point, and swallowed again, pausing. "The ring belongs to you, whatever finger you want to wear it on." She drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. She had not been expecting this. "It's beautiful," she said softly and he smiled, watching her face and feeling a swell of hope tighten his chest as he realized that she wasn't saying no and she wasn't moving the ring to another finger. "It's perfect for you," he replied, and when she looked up at him, his face so full of unadulterated love that it made her breath catch in her chest. They gazed at each other a moment, then she looked down once more, a tiny smile on her lips as tears filled her eyes, threatening to overflow. She sniffed, wiped her eyes and glanced to the side, the newspaper laying on the coffee table falling into her line of vision. Her expression changed to surprise and then shock. "Oh my God," she said as she sat up straight, reaching out and pulling the newspaper onto her lap. "What?" he asked, reacting off of her alarm. "This man in this picture on the bottom of the front page. I've seen him before, Mulder." The caption read, 'Priest Killed In Carjacking Identified' and she shook her head, letting out a short huff as she quickly skimmed the brief article. "Father Schroeder was fatally wounded when he stepped between two armed men and an older gentleman during a carjacking right here in Georgetown two days ago." She paused, then glanced up at him. "That's impossible. This is the priest who spoke to me following the service at St. Cyril's yesterday morning." Mulder looked down at the photograph, his own eyes growing wide. "You're sure?" "Positive." He ran his hand over his face, letting out a long breath. The man in the photograph, Father Schroeder, was Ulrich. Father Ulrich Schroeder. XxXxXxXxX Chapter Eight He found himself with a lot of time on his hands while waiting for his reinstatement to become official. He could get into the Hoover Building with a visitor pass arranged by Skinner, and Skinner turned a blind eye to his foray into the basement to look at the files. He couldn't visibly remove anything, though, unless accompanied by another agent, like Scully or the A.D. himself. But after a full day of nothing but researching files and the Internet, using Scully's login and password, he was bored. There was nothing - NOTHING - about an unusual incident in the Mojave Desert during the last week. No reports of strange weather, no satellite photos indicating the presence of a very large imposing craft of unknown origin. No missing person reports to give away potential identities of the men working on the project. Nothing. He and Scully had been able to go over all of the files they had taken home, and some interesting issues were raised, but there wasn't anything tangible to tie any of the previous cases to what he'd seen and experienced in California. Everything was related somehow, and yet, it was all different. Like one big cosmic coincidence. The only common denominator was the fact that he and Scully had investigated every case. On the second day, he decided to work on a different approach and went to the District of Columbia Medical Examiner's Office, intent on doing a brief visual examination of the body of Father Ulrich Schroeder. He was suspicious about the legitimacy of the alleged carjacking, and wanted to verify that the man involved was the same man he had just spent six months with. After working so closely with Scully all of those years, he'd learned a thing or two about gathering all of the facts and examining a dead body. But the Assistant M.E. wouldn't allow him inside to view the body for himself. Accredited officials and next of kin only, he was told. Scully was still driving out to Quantico every day to wrap up her current assignment, and was unable to chaperone him around town and act as his badge and credential. She was trying to help where she could, having called the D.C. Assistant M.E. to request a copy of the autopsy results on Father Schroeder. But those results had yet to arrive, so there was nothing to do but wait. To make his boredom even more complete, she'd had to work late both nights, finishing reports and trying to get everything in order so that she could move back to the X Files. So he didn't even get to have her in the evenings. He didn't know what she would decide about the future of their personal relationship, but he was certain that she loved him. He'd never, ever tell her, but he could hear her thoughts while they made love the other night - it wasn't intentional, but he was so focused on her and what they were doing that they just came through. He'd worked so hard to learn how to use it, he hadn't thought to learn how not to. And he didn't want to - he could finely tune his ministrations off of her responses to give her the most pleasure. Since he didn't know how to stop it, he considered it a freebie, a gift. Like a wet dream, only better. And her heightened pleasure under his hands only made him more excited. It was a win/win situation, by his estimation. He went out and ran, partially out of boredom, partially to keep in shape, but mostly to work off some of the nervous energy that collected in his muscles. He jogged through the Georgetown streets and to the University, listening to people's thoughts as he passed them by, just to keep his mind in shape. Finally, in the early afternoon of the third day following his initial reinstatement meeting with Skinner, he was presented with his badge, I.D. and Bureau-issued weapon. In Skinner's office and in the presence of his former and now current partner, he grinned from ear to ear as he shook Skinner's hand. He was already planning a visit to the D.C.M.E.'s office as soon as they were finished, hoping that the body of his acquaintance would still be there so both he and Scully could give it a cursory examination. "Now that you officially have a job and an income I assume that you'll be getting your belongings out of my storage unit." The A.D. quipped gruffly with a hint of a smile as he stepped back behind his desk. The fact that he and Scully were in effect living together under the same roof hadn't come up, even after Skinner had observed Mulder in the very hospitable and territorial role of host in Scully's apartment. And although it wasn't of interest to the Bureau in a professional sense whether or not they privately shared their bodies and a bed, Scully averted her gaze. Mulder froze for a millisecond, then recovered with, "You mean you haven't turned that unit into a rec room yet?" Skinner snorted his response and the issue was dropped. He wasn't in any hurry - he wasn't using the unit, anyway. He had an agenda, however, picking up a file that had been sitting on top of his desk. "First order of business, Agent Mulder..." Mulder looked up at the A.D. with a questioning glance and a gleam in his eye at the deliberate use of his title. Skinner glanced up and met his eye, then looked down again, noting that his intent was recognized. "VICAP has a case that was just handed over to us by the D.C.P.D. this morning." He sat, glancing over at the two agents as an indication for them to do the same. "What appeared to be a gangland style homicide and carjacking has all of the earmarks of an international hit. We've been asked to step in and I want the two of you to make it your top priority." Scully and Mulder shared a look as they sat down, both expelling a breath of air as they waited for the A.D. to continue. He cleared his throat, conscious of the potentially sensitive nature of the information he was about to deliver. "The target was a Catholic priest from the Carmelite Institute, a German national by the name of..." he paused, flipping open the file in front of him. "Father Ulrich Schroeder." He paused a moment without looking up, then continued. "The intended target of the carjacking has disappeared, his last known residence and the registration on his automobile listed the same address - a used record and musical paraphernalia store in Alexandria. No one at the store seems to know anything. As for the two suspects..." He paused again, drawing another breath to shore up his battlements for the aftermath of the information has was about to deliver, "...witnesses near the scene of the crime have identified one of the men from composite books and photographs in the FBI database. A Nicaraguan national by the name of Antonio Cardinale." Scully's eyes widened and Skinner glanced over at her. "Cardinale," she said in confirmation. "The younger brother of Luis Cardinale," Skinner replied. Scully's hands were clutching the arms of the chair tightly as she bowed her head, letting out a frustrated huff. The fact that Luis Cardinale was never brought before a court of law for the murder of her sister was a tender spot even still. Mulder was watching her with concern and she looked up, meeting his gaze. They held an extended, wordless conversation - something that Skinner recognized as unusual but not completely out of the ordinary, as he'd been privy to such exchanges between the two of them on many occasions in the past. This time, however, there was a thick tension in the air. Skinner was aware of the circumstances of Mulder's disappearance - Mulder had given him an abridged account of his time in California that didn't include specifics like names, although he knew that Alex Krycek was involved. They had discussed it and agreed to keep the reality of Mulder's special ability out of the official report - common knowledge within the Bureau of such an ability would only serve to subject him to ridicule. And if word spread, it could threaten his credibility and the credibility of the Justice Department in the eyes of the more skeptical law enforcement agencies. What was far worse, if Mulder's ability was to be proven and made public, it would turn him overnight into the most powerful and most sought-after human being on the planet. And not solely by those with good intentions. The implications were so far-reaching that it had the potential to became a threat to both mankind and to Mulder himself, a threat that none of them wanted to see come to fruition, regardless of the potential for the good that it could also achieve. It was the threat to Mulder himself that was Scully's primary concern, and from the expression on her face that fact was coming in loud and clear to both of the men in the room. The men who were behind her sister's death did not act randomly - they had been there to kill her and shot Melissa by mistake. If the same men were involved in the homicide of Father Schroeder, there was a definite agenda in place. And if they knew about Mulder's ability... Mulder closed his eyes against the searching blue of Scully's, running his hand over his forehead as he expelled a long breath of air. "Is there something I should know about, Agents?" Skinner asked off of their silent argument. "It looks like Scully and I both happen to have a vested interest in this particular case," Mulder replied, opening his eyes and briefly tipping his head to the side, toward his partner. Skinner glanced over at Scully, who looked back at him with her shoulders back and her chin raised, her lips pursed in what could not be construed as a happy expression. He knew that look - it was the fiercest, most protective of all of the pointed looks in the Dana Scully repertoire. And it only came out when she perceived that someone she cared about was about to be harmed in some way, whether it was the memory of her sister or Mulder himself. No way was he going to step in the middle of that. He looked down, drawing a breath and proceeding cautiously, "What kind of an interest?" "Father Ulrich Schroeder was the other man with Krycek and I in California. He's the one who helped me develop my..." he paused, uncertain what was the most appropriate name to assign to his new understanding. "...telepathy," was the word he finally chose. Skinner sighed and sat back in his chair, his jaw set as he stared at Mulder through the glare off of his glasses, making his expression unreadable. "What's his involvement with Alex Krycek?" Mulder shook his head. "I don't know. They weren't allies. Each had his own agenda, but they also worked together out of necessity toward the larger goal." He paused. "I guess we all did." Skinner took off his glasses and laid them down on top of his desk, pinching the bone between his eyes while he thought about the case. Mulder was leaning toward Scully, offering her his silent comfort, but Scully remained upright and uptight. "From the description given, the other suspect bears a strong resemblance to Alex Krycek." Scully turned her head to look at Mulder and Mulder shook his head. "I don't believe Krycek is responsible for this." "You of all people know what Krycek is capable of," Skinner replied quickly, sitting up in his seat. Mulder was silent, contemplating his words. Yes, he knew better than anyone what Krycek was capable of. And regardless of their recent alliance, Krycek very well could have disposed of Ulrich if he felt he didn't need him any longer. "I want Scully to take a look at the body," he said, his eyes holding Skinner's. "She'll be able to determine if the shooting was a deliberate hit or a random act of violence." Skinner looked at him, then at Scully and back again. "You'll have to settle for the autopsy report. According to the Medical Examiner's office, the body has already been claimed by the church." "Then we'll go to the church," Mulder replied. XxXxXxXxX Carmelite Institute, Washington D.C. "Carmelites are an order, Mulder," Scully explained as they walked toward the entrance of the Carmelite Institute, adjusting her stride to keep up with his fast pace. "Members of the order dedicate themselves to continuous spiritual growth through theological study and education, prayer and ministry, among other things." "So a priest like Father Schroeder could take off for six months or longer without being missed?" Mulder asked, stopping in front of the entrance. "If he was involved in the research of a specific issue that was paramount to his spiritual development and the spiritual development of others." She crossed her arms, taking on the stance of the lecturer. "Carmelites walk among the people as prophets, denouncing oppression and promoting the oneness of the human race as a whole." Mulder squinted at her in the late afternoon sun. "Are you telling me that the Catholic Church officially considers extraterrestrial life as part of the human race?" "Why wouldn't they?" Scully countered, surprising him by not arguing about the assumptive nature of his statement. "They've got a vested interest in all life. If it has a soul, it can be saved." The door opened and a middle-aged man in a black shirt, with the traditional collar and black pants stood before them. "Yes, what can I do for you?" he said pleasantly. They turned toward him, holding up their badges for him to see. "I'm Special Agent Fox Mulder and this is Special Agent Dana Scully with the Federal Bureau of Investigation. We'd like to talk with you about one of the priests associated with your order, a Father Ulrich Schroeder." The man's eyes indicated his understanding and he nodded. "Ah, yes. You'll want to talk with Father Marquette. I think he would be more likely to have the information that you're looking for. If you'd follow me..." Mulder stepped aside to allow Scully to enter before him, and they both followed the priest inside. The interior was simple, but clean; comfortable, but not luxurious. There was a large crucifix on the wall opposite the door and Scully glanced up at it, automatically bowing her head briefly as she had been taught in childhood. Their escort noticed and gave her a gentle smile, leading them into a small room near the front of the building. The room contained a table surrounded by chairs. The walls were lined with various versions and translations of the Bible, the Apocrypha, the Dead Sea Scrolls, publications by the Vatican and other books including several that were too large to fit onto shelves vertically so they were placed horizontally across the bottom shelves. "I'll tell Father Marquette you're waiting to see him," he said with an amicable nod, and left them alone to peruse the shelves. Mulder let out a low whistle, running his finger along one of the shelves. "This is some collection. They've got everything from the Koran to the Kabbalah." Scully had turned over the cover of one of the larger books lying on the table. It was a book of Gregorian chant, with colorful calligraphy and secular artwork adorning the pages. At his comment she looked up and glanced around the room. "I could spend an afternoon in here, easily." Mulder pulled a book off of the shelf on the life of Saint John of the Cross just as a white-haired priest shuffled into the room, much older than the first man but wearing similar black clothing and collar. "How do you do, I'm Father Marquette," he said to Mulder, who was standing closest to the door. "I understand you're here about Father Schroeder." Mulder stuffed the book back into it's slot and extended his hand to the priest. Scully stepped over to do the same. "Agents Mulder and Scully," she said. He shook both of their hands and held his hands out for them to sit at the table. "Please." They sat and he sat next to them, turning his chair to face them so that he could converse easier. "How may I be of assistance to you?" Scully spoke first. "Father Marquette, I understand from the Medical Examiner's office that the church has claimed the body of Father Schroeder." Father Marquette nodded. "Yes. Father Schroeder had no living family outside of the order - we were his family. His passing was so sudden...we celebrated mass for him and laid him to rest in St. Mary's just this morning." Scully looked at Mulder, who let out a sigh. An actual visual exam of the body would be impossible now. If only he had been allowed into the morgue yesterday, he thought begrudgingly. "This morning?" he said with disappointment. Father Marquette looked confused. "Yes. We were told that they had finished with him so we performed last rights and sent him back to the Lord." Mulder nodded, his mouth set in disappointment. As he stood to leave he leaned over to offer his hand to the father. "Father Marquette, thank you for your time." The father shook his hand, then stood, surprised that the conversation was so brief. He glanced from Mulder to Scully and back, his confusion evident. "I'm sorry I couldn't have been of more help to you." "Thank you for your assistance, Father." Scully had stood alongside Mulder and she offered her hand as well, giving him a tight-lipped smile. He followed them to the door, and Mulder stopped, turning to address him once more. "Did Father Schroeder spend an extended amount of time away from the institute recently?" Father Marquette's face lit up at the opportunity to contribute more information. "Why yes, yes he did. He was on a spiritual retreat for the better part of the year. He had just returned this weekend, spiritually enriched." Mulder nodded, offering a tight-lipped smile of his own. It seemed likely, then, that Ulrich and Father Ulrich Schroeder was indeed the same man, although he wasn't sure about the purported spiritual enrichment part of the experience. XxXxXxXxX Scully residence Scully had fallen into bed exhausted well past midnight the last two nights, and Mulder had been wondering since he'd woken that morning to find her gone with a note explaining an early meeting at Quantico if any lovemaking would happen between them that night. He knew better than to expect her to want to have sex every single night, or every other night for that matter, but he had hoped that she might clue him in on what she expected from him now. They were, after all, together now. Whatever that meant. Once he'd had her, he couldn't help it if he wanted it practically all of the time now. They had nothing in their long history to draw from in this situation. After their very first time together as lovers it had been over two weeks before they had come together again, and even then they were both a little awkward trying to read each other's signals on the way there. Schedules and work obligations interfered, and too many years of denying the attraction and attempting to keep things platonic created behavioral patterns that couldn't be altered by one night of incredible passion. Still, he hadn't been surprised that their working relationship was strengthened by the new intimacy. It was as if they could be more empathetic toward each other's points of view in addition to being emphatic in their own. And once they got past the awkwardness, they found that they were very compatible. They had just found a groove that seemed to be working for the both of them when he'd gone off with Krycek. Thinking back on it, if he hadn't just finished a long tedious assignment on surveillance and in serious need of sleep the night Krycek showed up in his apartment he wouldn't have been there alone. Or he wouldn't have been there at all. He'd have been at Scully's apartment instead. That had been months ago, though, and they were still finding their way back to that level of intimacy. It was Friday night and Scully was finished at Quantico, she'd reminded him as they left the Institute. So they had gone out to dinner to celebrate his reinstatement and her return to the X-Files. It was relatively early when they'd gotten back to her apartment, and both agreed when the conversation took a turn toward the events of the week that it had been a very long, emotionally taxing week. They should probably try to get some rest instead of debating their current case into the wee hours of the morning. The look in her eye and the way she arched her eyebrow at him told him otherwise. While she was in the bathroom brushing her teeth he had changed into his pajama bottoms, and he sat on what he now assumed was his designated side of the bed. She turned out the light and exited the bathroom barefoot wearing her dark blue silk pajamas, switching off the remaining lights in the apartment until there was just one light at the side of the bed illuminating the room. Intermittently she rubbed her hands together, the faint smell of scented lotion enveloping her, and Mulder stood expectantly to face her as she stopped on the opposite side of the bed, her eyes rising to meet his. Her eyes ran over him briefly, as his did hers, then with a mutual smile from both of them, they both pulled back the covers and slid between the sheets. She turned off the light and kicked her feet underneath the covers. He smiled. He rolled onto his side to face her and she did the same, meeting somewhere in the middle of the bed. He caressed her cheek with his hand, and she leaned in to place a tender kiss against his lips. Kisses grew more intense, gentle caresses became enflaming strokes and ultimately they shed their night clothes, sliding together with hearts pounding until they both occupied the same space. Much later, he lay on his left side bathed in afterglow, his head propped up on his arm as he gazed down on her serene face. She was on her back, her eyes closed. He knew by the cadence of her breathing that she wasn't sleeping, and she emitted a soft hum - almost a purr by his estimation. It was dark except for the faint light off the street lamp seeping in around the edges of the window dressing. But it was enough for him to see the soft curve of her upper lip as he traced a feather light trail with the pad of his index finger. "Sleepy?" he asked softly. "Hmmmm...relaxed," she replied with a gentle sigh. Her voice was light and airy...it was what he'd come to know as her unguarded tone. Others might call it pillow talk whisper. Either way, he loved it. He loved everything about her. He loved HER. He ran his finger up the side of her cheek slowly, along her temple and over her eyebrows, his touch gentle and the upward tilt of her lips showing him her contentment. His finger traveled down the bridge of her nose, over her lips once again, up the line of her jaw and traced the shell of her ear before she opened her eyes, blinking at the ceiling in the darkness. "Mulder?" "Hmmm?" he hummed, leaning down to press his lips against her forehead as his hand moved slowly down the middle of her chest. "Do you believe the man that I spoke with outside of St. Cyril's is in fact the same man you were with in California?" He was silent a moment, his hand running up and down her bare arm before he slid his fingers under hers, entwining them at the tips. "I wouldn't rule it out." She gave his fingers a squeeze. "And you're certain that it's the same man who was involved in the carjacking." Again, he was silent, thinking before responding to her question. "From the post-mortem photographs in the file Skinner gave us and our conversation with Father Marquette, yes. Unless Ulrich had an identical twin, but Father Marquette said that he had no living relatives." Scully's brow furrowed slightly as she thought about the situation. Mulder slid his index finger across the gold band of the antique ring she was wearing. Some time in the last few days she must have had it sized - it fit perfectly now. They hadn't discussed it since he gave it to her, but the fact that she was still wearing the ring on her left hand was a good sign. "I'm beginning to believe that there are no such things as coincidences." She said at last. "What do you mean?" "If that was Father Schroeder who I spoke with, then he must have been there for a reason." He lifted her left hand up to his lips, kissing the ring softly. "What reason? You said he spoke to you about free will." "He spoke about using our free will in a way that will benefit ourselves and others." She specified, entwined their fingers again and holding his tighter this time. "How we choose to act and respond to the people around us." "How is that different than what you already do every day? You can't deny that a lot of people benefit from the work that we do." She drew in a long breath and held it, then let it out slowly. "I know. That was part of it, I think. For me to return to the X Files." "And the other part?" Reaching her right hand up, she placed her palm against his cheek, stroking her thumb over his lips. "That's what I've been thinking about. I think it was much more specific than that. He asked me directly if I enjoyed the gospel - the sermon the pastor had given." He turned his face, kissing her palm, then leaning into her touch. "What did you say?" "I told him that it came at a time when I had issues that I needed to resolve. And he asked me if there were others involved. But you know, Mulder, the way he asked it, it was like he already knew. Like he knew me, knew what was going on inside of me." "So what are you saying? You think he was reading your thoughts?" She held her breath a moment. "No, not my thoughts..." she paused, considering the best way to phrase it. "My heart. He looked at me so strangely, almost intimately. It was as if he could see everything I was feeling." She looked up at him, and he looked down at her with eyes shining, smiling. His look was both amused and adoring, as he knew it wasn't an easy admittance for her. Her admitting it so freely enthralled him to no end. She grinned, understanding that he was pleased with her openness, and rolled over onto her side to face him, mirroring his pose and propping her head up with her hand. "You know...I've been thinking about what Skinner said today, Mulder...ARE you going to get another apartment?" Still smiling, he tucked her hair behind her ear before replying, "I've gotta do something with my furniture. Skinner isn't going to keep it forever." "There are alternatives, of course..." He studied her face. "Such as...?" She looked down at the space between them on the bed, running her index finger up the back of his wrist. "What would you say if I asked you..." she paused, rethinking her approach, then looked back up at him. "Would you consider staying here...living here?" He blinked at her, reading her expression. Her look was vulnerable and he was about to ask her where SHE intended to live, but from the tone of her voice he understood what she was asking. "What, you mean like a trial run?" "No," she replied. "I mean..." she let out a breath, then drew another one in, "like people do when they make a lifelong commitment to each other." His expression was slightly dazed, slightly amused as he took in her words. His heart was pounding and he wanted to be sure that he understood her correctly. "You're saying you've made a decision? You want to buy the proverbial cow, Scully? Even when you're already getting the milk for free?" Mulder called upon humor in times of stress and she grinned at his teasing, then her expression grew solemn. "I'm saying if we're going to do this, then let's do it. Let's call my family priest and set a date, Mulder. In my church or in a park or even in the basement of the Hoover Building if that's your inclination...so long as it's in front of God, my priest and my family and anybody else who wants to witness the event I want to stand up with you and entrust you with everything that I have within me to give." His mouth fell open and all of the air left his lungs. He blinked at her a few moments, then swallowed. "Alright," he nodded, swallowing again as his mouth had suddenly gone dry. "Let's do it. The location and participants are irrelevant to me as long as you're there." She smiled at him, a full-on, brilliant, light-up-her-whole-face smile. His eyes shone as he climbed out of the bed, coming around to her side and wrapping the top sheet around her, picking her up off of the bed. "Mulder!" she exclaimed with a laugh, "What are you doing?" "I wanna dance with you. We need to practice for the reception," he replied with a wide grin as he carried her giggling out into the living room. "I didn't say anything about a reception," she quipped as he powered the stereo on with his elbow. Bryan Ferry was loaded in the CD player and he let her slide down to the floor gently, waiting as she gathered the sheets up around her in a makeshift toga before he pulled her back into his arms. Then they began swaying with the music, looking into each other's eyes with mutual amusement and affection. She had to stand on her toes to reach his lips and she placed a soft kiss there. He laid his cheek against hers. "I'm not letting anyone cut in, either," he whispered. "Not Skinner, not your brother who thinks I'm the worse thing in the world for you, not even Frohike. I'm going to keep you all to myself." "I know what's best for me, Mulder, not my brothers or anyone else," she whispered. He smiled, his cheek curving against hers. The sound of the deadbolt on her front door being slid back was loud enough for them to hear, but in their collective state of undress they scarcely had time to turn and face the door, let alone locate their weapons left on the beside table. Time seemed to move in slow motion as they watched the door swing open to reveal the intruder on the other side. Alex Krycek stood cloaked in the shadow of the doorway, his silhouette enough to indicating his identity. Mulder had turned Scully so that she was behind him, effectively blocking her from Krycek's direct line of vision. Scully's breathing had grown heavy and he knew she was angry enough to attack as she wriggled out from behind him. "Scully, wait..." he said, holding her by the shoulders. "Don't you ever knock?" he snapped at Krycek without thinking. Of course he never knocked. This wasn't a social visit. Alex Krycek didn't make social visits. They couldn't see his eyes through the shadows as he took in the image before him, but despite the flash of amusement that passed through them, Krycek's voice was all business. "Put some pants on, Mulder. We've located another one." XxXxXxXxX Chapter Nine Skinner Residence Waking in the middle of the night to the summons of the telephone never meant good news, and a chill ran down his spine when he heard her voice issue one single word from the other end. "Sir?" "What is it, Scully?" he asked thickly, his voice rough from sleep. He didn't need to ask - he knew it was about Mulder. With the appearance of Krycek in his parking garage and the connection with the murdered priest it was only a matter of time before something else happened. Her voice was controlled but she spoke a little too quickly for normal circumstances. "Agent Mulder and I will be going out of town for a few days, Sir, pertaining to the case we were assigned today. We'll check in as soon as possible, as always." He paused a moment at the oddness in the way she spoke. But he was relieved that it wasn't another Mulder disappearance or worse. At least she'd be there to back him up this time, hopefully keeping him out of trouble. "See that you do, Agent Scully," was all that he said, and with that she hung up. Skinner replaced the phone in the cradle and laid back against the pillow. 'As always' stuck out like a sore thumb, although the entire conversation was unusual. Mulder and Scully didn't make it a habit of informing him about their whereabouts and he usually found out about their forays out of town after the fact. But it was the two words, 'as always' that made up his mind. Scully was placing him on alert. He would make sure he knew exactly where Mulder and Scully were and what they were doing by whatever means he had available to him. XxXxXxXxX Hanging up the telephone, Scully turned her back on Krycek, who was standing in front of the window looking out into the darkness. She shrugged on her jacket as Mulder walked out of the bedroom pulling his T-shirt down over his abdomen. He had put on his tennis shoes, but hadn't bothered to tie the laces. Scully passed by him on her way back to the bedroom to collect her weapon and cel phone - Bryan Ferry was still playing softly on the stereo and she hit the power button with the heel of her palm as she passed by. Nothing like the appearance of Alex Krycek to kill a mood. At Krycek's insistence, Mulder drove the three of them to the airport in Scully's car. This time, they would be traveling on a commercial airline courtesy of the Federal Bureau of Investigation. Krycek had directed them to Baltimore where he'd reserved three tickets on a 5:30 a.m. flight and Mulder raced down the 95 toward BWI, unconcerned as Scully usually was with the posted speed limit. There was hardly anyone on the road at this hour, anyway. All joking about her propensity for speeding aside, he was both relieved and concerned that Krycek agreed to bring Scully along this time. In fact, it hadn't even been an issue, it was just assumed that she would accompany them both. If she could indeed be tracked via the implant in her neck, then Krycek was no longer concerned if the men behind the resurgence of the conspiracy knew her location. It was certain that news of his own reinstatement at the Bureau was already common knowledge. Sadly, the halls of the Justice Department could not discriminate between the just and those unknown informants who were willing to share information for the right price. Based on this it was evident that, as opposed to the last time, their involvement wasn't meant to be a secret. Scully had been silent since she'd dressed and pulled a few things together for their trip. He knew from the expression she wore that she was quietly seething in the presence of Alex Krycek. But he also knew that she was thinking about the situation, breaking it down and examining the evidence like the top-rate investigator that she was. He would have beat the crap out of Krycek himself if he hadn't held a gun to his head the last time he showed up for a road trip. He wasn't one of his favorite people now, but knowing that Krycek was trying to achieve the same objective that they sought, he could only try to keep the peace until they'd finished what they started. After that, Krycek was on his own. In fact, if he wasn't doing all of the driving, and nighttime driving at that, he'd focus on Krycek's thoughts for more information about where they were going and what he knew about the E.B.E. But as tired as he was, he knew it was doubtful he'd be able to make a connection, let alone sustain it for a decent amount of time. He'd have to make due with what Krycek was willing to divulge for the time being. Scully, however, had evidently reached her limit on unanswered questions, preferring to take the direct approach. "What exactly is your involvement with Antonio Cardinale, Krycek?" she asked in her most severe voice, breaking the silence the three of them had endured since they'd belted themselves into the car. Krycek held his mouth in a straight line, staring at the road ahead from the middle of the back seat. "There is no involvement," he replied. "You deny that you were present when Cardinale shot Father Schroeder?" Scully asked, her lips pursed and her eyebrow raised in question. She received no confirmation and she looked over at Mulder, who was staring ahead, down the road out into the darkness. If he was surprised to hear the news, he didn't show it. "I wasn't there," Krycek said after a long silence, his timbre less defensive as the sound of the tires on the asphalt marked the passing seconds. "But I know who's behind it." "Who?" Scully asked, still on the offensive as she turned slightly in her seat to make eye contact with him. Krycek swallowed, looking back at her steadily. These two could glare at each other for days without flinching and Mulder would be hard-pressed to choose which one would falter first. He doubted it would be Scully, knowing the strength of her will. Scully had read an answer to her question in Krycek's steady gaze. "Smoking man," she replied flatly, looking at him with contempt. Mulder began to grit his teeth. He'd figured out that old C.G.B. was involved somehow, but hearing it confirmed only infuriated him. He glanced at Scully, seeing the frustration in her posture as well. She turned and faced forward once more, letting out a huff and resting her elbow against the car door, covering her mouth with her hand as she looked out the side window into the darkness. XxXxXxXxX They were going to Sedona. Their flight connected through Atlanta, where they transferred from a MD-80 to a Boeing 757 bound for Phoenix Sky Harbor International Airport. Mulder and Scully were assigned to seats D and F with seat E vacant, while Krycek was seated on the other side of the plane, four rows ahead. Mulder had taken care of the seat assignments himself and it was the most distance between Krycek and he and Scully that he could arrange without switching someone to first class. Scully had spent most of the first leg of the trip staring out the window at nothing but clouds. Mulder knew she needed time to think, to deal with her emotions and set them aside so that she could focus on the work ahead of them. He had spent six months coming to terms with Alex Krycek and all of the damage that he had done in their lives. He did not forgive him, but he knew that Krycek wanted to put and end to the conspiracy once and for all just as badly as he did. He had to put that above his personal feelings about the man's lack of morals and the methods by which he achieved his goals. He had attempted to tune into Krycek's thoughts during that flight to Atlanta, but he was drained from the lack of sleep and couldn't focus enough to catch more than the random thoughts of the other passengers. After they were airbound out of Atlanta, Scully turned toward her partner, her eyes weary but determined. "Why Sedona, Mulder?" she asked, her voice belying her fatigue. She was letting him know that she'd put her issues with Krycek aside, temporarily. She had been considering the question of their destination off and on since they left Baltimore, and now she wanted his input. Mulder unfastened his seatbelt and moved the arm rest out of the way so he could stretch out and scoot closer to her. "It makes sense, Scully," he replied. "Some people believe that Sedona is the place the Native Americans called Nawanda, a place of spiritual growth where they would seek what the Great Spirit wanted for their lives. It's been said that 'Star People' had touched down in ancient times, and that the Native Americans kept in contact with other Galactic peoples for centuries. The special energies and frequencies in Sedona make it easier for them." "Special energies?" Scully replied, watching him with a mixed look of skepticism and curiosity. "The Vortexes. Sedona has four major and several other minor vortexes within a ten mile radius." "Vortexes," she parroted. "Energy fields, positive and negative, yin and yang. Like what we experienced on our first case together in Bellefleur when the rental car went ballistic." She raised her eyebrow at him in acknowledgement and he continued with a slight grin at the shared memory. "Biologist Lyall Watson wrote that the earth's magnetic field is riddled with local deviations and irregularities. These faults have been very carefully plotted and the most persistent of them have become quite notorious, such as the Bermuda Triangle and Stonehenge. Native Americans believe there's a powerful vortex on the island of Kauai, also red-rock country, like Sedona." "So what is it in the red rocks that makes it so powerful?" she asked. "Iron oxide and silica," he replied. Her brow furrowed as her mind processed and catalogued all of the information he'd just spewed. She knew iron oxide and silica were good conductive agents. "So you're saying that because of its geological makeup, Sedona is some kind of Grand Central for spacecraft?" "Spacecraft, witches, New-Agers, metatphysicians, psychics, astrologers, mediums, healers, vegetarians..." The last part earned him a slight smile and arched brow. "That begs the question, why haven't we been to this place before?" "Too obvious," Mulder replied. "Harmonic convergence and all of that crap." She let out a soft snort before falling silent again, lost in thought. Mulder was reminded of the time he had belittled her sister's beliefs in alternative forms of spiritual enlightenment. 'Just because it's positive and good doesn't make it silly or trite!' Melissa had told him when he called it crap to her face, trying to get him to pull his head out of his ass and admit his feelings for the younger Scully. He reached out with his right hand to take Scully's left, his fingers glancing over the ring like a testimonial. It took them more than six years since that day, but they finally got one thing right - they both knew how they felt about each other. He had to give Melissa credit for seeing it so clearly then. He only wished that she was here to see it now. Scully herself had come a long way in the last several years toward accepting some of the less traditional methods of healing and investigation. She told him about the holistic healer she'd called in to help her friend Daniel when he'd slipped into a coma. She believed that it was the alternative approach, rather than medicine, that may have brought Daniel out of the coma and back to the road of recovery. Much like Melissa had done to Scully's comatose body all those years ago. Scully looked up at him, their eyes meeting. She had endured more than anyone because of the project and the conspiracy surrounding it, and he reached over with his left hand, gently running a finger down the side of her face. "After this is all finished, Scully, I promise you that justice WILL be served and the people who have caused so much suffering because of this project will be held accountable." Her eyes clouded and she let out a long breath. So many people had suffered. She knew it would be fruitless to even try to seek restitution - these people were constantly beyond the reach of the law and to expect results through the judicial system would be a wasted effort. But she did believe that Mulder would do his best and make every possible effort toward that goal. "I hope so, Mulder," she said wearily, laying her head back against the seat and closing her eyes. "God, I do hope so." XxXxXxXxX Federal Bureau of Investigation, Washington, D.C. By 8 a.m. Skinner knew that they had purchased two tickets to Phoenix via Atlanta, with another connecting flight to Flagstaff. He confirmed through Delta Airlines that Agents Dana Scully and Fox Mulder had indeed boarded both the Atlanta and Phoenix flights, but he wasn't aware that Alex Krycek was with them, and under an assumed name, had purchased his own ticket with cash. Skinner had his suspicions, though. They didn't take off abruptly in the middle of the night without a very good reason, Mulder's enthusiasm notwithstanding. Since it was officially the weekend, if they'd gone to Las Vegas he might have assumed otherwise, having noticed the nice gold ring she'd been wearing the last couple of days. And Scully didn't seem to him like a woman who under any amount of persuasion would agree to run off to get married in the Elvis Chapel of Love. So he called the Phoenix Field Office and asked the S.A.C. if he had anyone available to go down to the airport with a digital camera and get shots of every passenger boarding the 10:51 a.m. Mesa Airlines flight to Flagstaff. It took a little negotiating and he ended owing the man a favor, but by 2:10 p.m. Eastern Standard Time he had the proof via email on the screen in front of him. Alex Krycek was with them. One telephone call ensured that he was on United Flight 1493 to Phoenix out of Dulles at 5:45 p.m. XxXxXxXxX Mulder drove the rented Ford Crown Victoria past the tall pine trees and out of Flagstaff on Highway 179. The window was cracked on his side so that he could feel the crisp, pine-scented air on his face, helping him stay awake and alert as he navigated the mountain road. The road edged a few very steep drops and he forced himself not to look out at the breathtakingly beautiful mountains capped with clouds. Thankfully, he'd stopped at a news stand in Phoenix and picked up some sunflower seeds. Scully had fallen asleep on his shoulder after their conversation when they'd left Atlanta and slept until their approach into Phoenix. He was going on 32 hours since he last slept, and as the steep road gave way to the safety of the forest in Oak Creek Canyon he allowed himself a small sigh of relief. Neither Mulder nor Scully had spoken to Krycek unless completely necessary since they had disembarked from the plane in Phoenix and caught the puddle-jumper to Flagstaff. Krycek wasn't much of a conversationalist, but even if he had been they'd kept it strictly business. They were going to get the job done and get the Hell out of there, which made it a quiet drive. As they neared Sedona, Mulder began to grow aware of his retreating fatigue, replaced by a feeling of buoyancy that left him fidgeting in his seat. To his right, Scully was sitting up straight, her blue eyes wide as she watched the beautiful scenery unfold, mile after mile. Every once and a while a slight smile would float across her lips, followed by a deep breath and slow exhalation of air. Then she would glance at him, their eyes meeting briefly. He wondered if she was feeling it, too. It really was beautiful. Maybe they'd come back here when they could enjoy it, just the two of them, he thought. "Now that we're here, where exactly are we going?" Mulder asked Krycek as they crossed into the Sedona city limits. There were a lot of galleries, he noticed, but he didn't think they would be doing any gazing at art on this particular visit. He had been feeling uneasy about Krycek's lack of forthcoming information, telling them only what was necessary when it was necessary. "Straight ahead," Krycek replied. A few minutes later they reached a stoplight at the crossroad to Highway 89A, and Krycek instructed Mulder to turn right and follow the highway. Instead, Mulder pulled into the parking lot of a Burger King and stopped the car. "I need to stretch my legs for a minute," he said, opening the door and climbing out. "Scully, you want something to drink?" he asked, bending over and looking back at her through the open car door. She was already unfastening her seatbelt. "I'll get it myself." As they walked toward the entrance, Krycek got out of the back, leaning against the car in the direct sunlight. "Mulder, what's going on?" Scully asked as he opened the door to the restaurant for her and followed her in. "Don't you feel it, Scully?" "Feel what?" "The energy. I feel like I could run a marathon and just an hour ago I could barely keep my eyes open. It's amazing." She stepped into line behind a thirtysomething couple in matching pink polo shirts scrutinizing the overhead menu with hesitation. Mulder was headed for the men's room. "What do you want to drink?" Scully called to him. "Whatever you're having," he replied as the couple in front of her argued about sodium versus fat content. In the restroom, Mulder entered one of the stalls and turned the latch behind him. He sat on the toilet without dropping his jeans, and took a deep breath, willing his breathing to slow. Closing his eyes, he focused on the light, expanding the point wider and broader until it filled him. It came so quickly that he nearly lost concentration, all of his senses suddenly aware of everything within and surrounding him. The voices were crystal clear...someone considering if sugar wouldn't be preferable to Nutrasweet...Scully wondering if she should get two sodas or one super-size... He paused on Scully a moment, feeling the warm liquid sensation of her thoughts inside of his head. Although she was merely ordering a soda, it reminded him of the evening before, hearing her thoughts while he was inside of her. But sex wasn't something he should be dwelling on at the moment, he decided, so he moved on. Just beyond was his intended target... Krycek. He was watching a woman in shorts at a gas station across the Highway, filling up her Jeep Wrangler. Krycek was thinking about sex, too, but not in a complimentary way for the innocent young woman - he had her placed in a position of submission but extreme willingness to perform to his whims. Mulder stayed with him through the fantasy, though he was thoroughly disgusted, finding Krycek's thoughts dirtier than any triple X film he'd ever watched. Part of the reason was he knew that it had little to do with sex and everything to do with control. Krycek had some serious control issues. As the girl unknowingly climbed into her vehicle and drove away, Krycek's thoughts shifted away down the highway, wondering how far they were from enchantment. Scully must have walked out of the restaurant at that moment and drew Krycek's attention. Rather than risk hearing something equally disgusting about his future wife and being forced to beat the living crap out of the sick fuck before they got where they were going, he broke the connection, blowing out a long breath. Opening his eyes, he took a few more deep breaths. He'd barely broken a sweat and he wiped his brow with tissue, surprised. He'd been so tired earlier. Perhaps the energy from the vortexes was enhancing his ability, he guessed. Never since he'd learned how to use the ability had it been so quick or easy - he felt like he could have gone on for hours. Exiting the stall, he washed up in the sink, running his hands through his hair before drying them on a paper towel and going out to rescue Scully from probable, and gratefully, incognizant defamation. Along the way, he wondered what Krycek's twisted idea of enchantment might be. Krycek was already sitting in the back seat and when Mulder appeared Scully climbed into the passenger seat, handing him the super-size diet cola as he slid in behind the wheel. He accepted the drink, took a sip, handed it back to her with a look of gratitude and then folded his hands in his lap. Krycek was looking out the window, and after a moment, realized that Mulder hadn't started the car. He looked up at him, and saw that he was being watched through the rearview mirror. "Down the highway, make a left out of the parking lot," he said. "No," Mulder said firmly, "not until you tell us exactly where we're going and what you think we're going to find once we get there." "You're wasting valuable time," Krycek replied. The muscle in his jaw twitched as he clenched his teeth, and he and Mulder stared at each other for a long, tense moment before Krycek assented. "Alright." He paused, letting out an impatient huff. "We need to get to a canyon just off of the highway. Near one of the major vortexes." "Why?" Scully asked, "what's in the canyon?" "The E.B.E.," Krycek replied. "We may already be too late. They're not going to leave it there for long, they'll want to take it somewhere secure to be analyzed." Scully and Mulder exchanged a look. "Then why did they leave it in the canyon?" Mulder asked. "It needs the energy. Look, can we at least talk about this on the way?" Krycek asked impatiently, "The name of the canyon is Boynton. Boynton Canyon." Mulder started the car and Scully pulled the roadmap courtesy of Lariat Car Rental out of the glove box. Her finger quickly ran up the line representing Highway 89A. "It's right here, Mulder. Boynton Canyon." Mulder pulled out of the parking lot onto the highway. He was intrigued by the notion that the E.B.E. needed energy from the vortex. If the raised energy level in Sedona affected him so strongly, what would direct contact with a major vortex do to the E.B.E.? XxXxXxXxX Chapter Ten Sedona, Arizona 'So, Enchantment is a resort,' Mulder thought as they made the turn- off on Dry Creek Road from Highway 89A. After nearly five minutes, a sign indicated that Boynton Canyon was to the left, so he followed that road, then made another right when the sign indicated the canyon was that way. He could see the grandeur of the canyon from the road. Public parking and access to the canyon was ahead to the right, whereas the resort was straight ahead on the access road. In the distance he could just make out the tall green fencing commonly found around tennis courts. After all, there's architecture that's unobtrusive, and then there's necessity. 'What's a resort without tennis?' he thought. No doubt there was a nice green golf course nearby as well. There were a lot of cars in the public parking lot near Boynton Canyon, and Mulder braked in the middle of it, just looking at them all. "Am I supposed to believe that there's an extraterrestrial biological entity sitting out there in a public park filled with tourists?" Scully asked, her voice flat as she looked over the lot. "Maybe it has the ability to make itself invisible," Mulder replied, not without mirth, turning his face to offer a grin when she shot him a look. She didn't smile, but he did notice a spark in her eyes indicating that she appreciated his tease. "It's there," Krycek replied with conviction, leaning forward in his seat. "Park the car." Mulder pulled into a nearby parking space and stopped the car, then sat back in the seat, dropping his hands from the steering wheel. "Now what?" he asked Krycek in the rearview mirror. "Let's go find ourselves an alien," Krycek replied, a near grin on his face as he opened the back passenger side door. He almost seemed like he was having fun. Scully glanced at Mulder and he met her look, then they both unlatched their seatbelts and climbed out of the car. Scully looked ahead toward the trail, assessing the area. Of course, she hadn't thought to wear suitable shoes. But then again, she hadn't been forewarned that they would be hiking in Arizona. She'd get by, though - she always did, Mulder reminded himself. She never complained about it, either. She had plenty of other things to say, however. "Mulder," she whispered as they followed a few yards behind Krycek through the parking lot, "you can't possibly be falling for this." "What do you mean?" he asked her, leaning closer. To their left a group of middle aged women gathered around another woman, who was addressing the group. The speaker was tall, with a long silver braid and wearing a black turtleneck, long black skirt and what looked like riding boots, black. There were silver cuff bracelets on each of her wrists and large silver hoops dangling from her earlobes. Around her neck she wore a long silver chain with what looked like a large quartz crystal hanging from the end. "...this vortex is a balance between the masculine energy, which we talked about when we visited the Airport Vortex, and feminine energy, as we experienced at Cathedral Rock. Finding a balance of energy is extremely important, as it is in our every day lives. Having a masculine/feminine balance is important to our relationships as it strengthens those qualities that make relationships work well, honesty, openness, intimacy and commitment." The woman started walking as she spoke and the others followed, about ten yards behind Scully and Mulder. "As we walk toward the vortex, we'll also have an opportunity to talk about the medicine wheel and the healing effects it can have..." "I mean," Scully continued, "that I find it extremely unlikely that we're going to find anything extraterrestrial in a canyon full of people looking for some meaning or purpose to their comfortable lives in what appears to be the New Age equivalent of Disneyland." Mulder let out a snort. "You think they're charging admission?" he teased. "...ask that you please do not disturb or remove anything from the area, even the smallest rock," the woman speaking to the group was saying, "out of respect for the Native American spirits who reside here. If you would like a vortex-charged item to take home with you, such as a crystal or a chakra stimulating pin or bracelet specially designed by local Native American artisans, there are special items available through our catalog or life-force shop that the spirits have given us permission to offer to you on their behalf. And as participants in this tour, we can offer these items to you today at an extra fifteen percent off of the original price." Scully raised an eyebrow at Mulder as if to say, 'see what I mean?' and he grinned back at her. She always was a tough sell. Krycek was waiting at the entrance to the trail, pressing against his temples with the thumb and forefinger of his right hand. "How far, do you think?" Mulder asked him, stepping onto the soft dirt at the entrance to the trail marked BOYNTON CANYON TRAIL NO. 47. He looked up at the sky, noticing that the ominous clouds that had been hugging the mountaintops as they drove into town were now growing darker and moving their way. "That's up to you, wonderboy," Krycek replied with a smirk, dropping his hand to his side. "Ask It how we can reach It." Mulder stood still, placing his hands on his hips as he looked down the trail, seeing several hikers coming and going in opposite directions. "It doesn't work that way. I have to have a target to focus on and this place is full of people who will create interference." Scully was looking down the trail with her head cocked to one side, almost as if she recognized someone or something, and she started walking down the path by herself without turning to look back at her companions. Mulder noticed her out of the corner of his eye. "Scully, what are you doing?" he called out to her, and when she didn't reply, he followed, catching up to her with several long strides. "Scully?" he said again, "what is it?" Scully shook her head, standing still but continuing to look down the path. "I was wrong, Mulder," she said. "I think there may be something here." "What?" he asked, and when she didn't reply, he touched her face and turned it toward him. "Scully?" he said again. She was beginning to make him feel a little nervous...reminding him once again that she carried an electronic device in the back of her neck...a device that they knew little about. "I don't know," she replied carefully, her eyes wide and sincere as they looked into his, "but we need to see what is in that canyon." "Scully..." Mulder prodded, still concerned. "What do those rock formations remind you of, Mulder?" she asked, pointing toward several large red-tinted pinnacles to the north of them. He looked at the formations. His brow furrowed, and he sucked on his lip, then let it go as the answer came to him. "I saw similar formations near Trona." Krycek had passed them just moments after Mulder reached her, and was at least fifty yards ahead of them on the trail by the time they turned together toward the path. His steps were heavy, labored, although he was moving at a fairly quick pace. Scully and Mulder started up the trail behind him, caught up with him and then passed him at the fork to another trail leading up a hill. Mulder could feel the energy increase in intensity. To his right there was what appeared to be a dry creek bed, and the energy seemed stronger there, as if it were flowing through it. Scully was just a few steps ahead of him, and her gait was light and easy. There was a near bounce in the way she moved, and he was pretty certain that she could feel the energy, too. The wind had kicked up, teasing the edges of her hair into her face, but she reached up and pushed it away before he had the chance to think that he might like to do it for her. "Mulder, look at this tree," she called to him, stopping to examine a Juniper tree growing along the trail. "It's twisted into a spiral." Mulder looked up at the tree, his hands on his hips. "They all are," he replied, looking at the other trees nearby. Farther ahead, they could see that the trees became even more twisted. As they walked Krycek was having an increasingly difficult time keeping the pace. He would trip on exposed tree roots, his feet leaden and his bearing slow, as if he could hardly lift his feet. He was having trouble navigating around some of the juniper branches, and scrub brush that seemed to be completely off of the path for Mulder and Scully scratched at him, catching his clothing and even the skin on his face and neck. Scully and Mulder easily navigated past the plants and rocks on the path, their feet seemingly gliding above the ground rather than touching it. Turning a bend, they came upon a huge boulder, with a woman sitting in lotus position atop it, her eyes closed and her body relaxed in meditation. Scully took a moment to look back. Krycek had stopped back by the juniper tree they had examined, bent at the waist and back heaving from his labored breathing. Scully reached out and took hold of Mulder's hand to stop him, and a charge went through them, rolling down one arm to the other through their joined hands. They both jumped back in surprise. "What the Hell was that?" Scully asked, her heart pounding. Mulder was looking at his hand, massaging his tricep. "I don't know," he replied. "Give me your hand." He held his hand out and she looked at him, then down at his hand, tentatively reaching out to clasp it with her own. It happened again, but when she moved to release the connection Mulder held on tighter. The sensation was moving past his arm, through his upper body and spreading. "Wait," he said softly, his eyes holding hers. Her breathing increased, and her eyes grew wide as the sensation grew within her. "Mulder..." she whispered, fighting it. "Just go with it, Scully," he replied softly. "Trust me." His eyes held hers, and after a few seconds her shoulders relaxed and her breathing slowed down, her body growing accustomed to the foreign sensation that was now coursing through the whole of it. She looked down at their joined hands with a look of awe, and he could see by the expression on her face that it was not an unpleasant feeling once she accepted it. It was nothing more than the simple experiments she probably conducted in high school science class, but there was no visible source for the initial current. She raised her eyes back to his, slow smiles spreading across both of their faces. They were each giving and receiving the current, from one to the other, back and forth, again and again until the feeling no longer seemed to travel through them, but was an ever- present, pulsing sensation. Like one heartbeat that they both could feel. After a moment, he let go of her hand and she gasped as the connection broke, leaving her prickly and tingling. After the initial shock from the break in contact, Mulder felt a peaceful warmth spread throughout his body, like endorphins after a long run, or an orgasm. It was one of the most incredible things he'd ever experienced in his life. He'd never felt more aware, more loved, or more in love. And yet, he didn't feel like his mind or body were impaired or hindered by the energy in any way. He was ready to do it again. The woman on the rock had opened her eyes and was watching them with a large, knowing smile before climbing down and making her way out of the canyon. "Something is wrong with Krycek," Scully said, drawing him back to task. He looked down the trail and saw Krycek standing off to the side, bent at the waist and his hands resting on his knees. They walked back down the path to where Krycek had sat on the dirt and Scully stepped closer, shifting into doctor mode. "What is it?" she asked him, crouching down beside him. "I don't know," he replied, and she could see the beads of sweat on his brow. There were several angry red scratches on his face and neck. "It started as a headache, but it's gotten worse. I'm having trouble catching my breath." "You may be having an allergic reaction to one of the trees that scratched you, or something that was on the branch that made contact with your skin." He looked up, embarrassed and irritated as a pair of hikers effortlessly passed them on their way back. "Any nausea?" she asked, reaching out to touch his forehead to test his temperature, but he flinched away. "Some," he replied, huffing out a series of short breaths. "I'll be alright. You guys go on, I'll meet you back at the car." Scully glanced up at Mulder, then stood. The clouds above threatened a heavy storm. Krycek looked up at Mulder a moment, and Mulder nodded, "Alright." He turned, and Scully stopped him. "Mulder..." Mulder looked back over his shoulder at her. "I think we should consider going back with him. Look at the sky." Mulder looked up, just as a flash of lightening lit up a dark cloud to the north. The storm clouds were moving in, and ever since they entered the trail the sky had grown darker, the wind blowing almost steadily. "This path follows a dry wash, and flash floods in the desert are a common and deadly occurrence at this time of year." She let out a long breath. "Besides, we have no topographical maps, and we aren't prepared for this kind of weather. I want to find out what is going on here as much as you do," she added, "but Krycek should have someone keeping an eye on him to make sure his condition doesn't get worse." He looked at Krycek, who was shivering and sweating as he hauled himself back on his feet, and Mulder glanced back down the path leading into the canyon, thinking about the points she had raised. Turning, he walked back toward her. "What are you doing?" Krycek asked, wiping the sweat off of his brow with the cuff of his shirt. "We have no idea how long it's going to be here." "Scully's right," Mulder replied, biting his lip and his eyes squinting in judgment as he looked at the terrain surrounding them. "That looks like a Hell of a storm." "You think It's going to let a storm hold it back?" "Wait a minute." Scully said, stepping closer. "You said earlier that the people behind this new conspiracy were keeping it here. What do you mean by 'It' not letting the storm hold it back?" She paused, waiting for another hiker to pass. "Exactly who is involved in this?" Krycek continued to shiver but remained silent. Mulder stepped closer to him. "I'd like to hear the answer to that question." When Krycek still didn't respond, he took matters into his own hands. "Fine," he said, pressing his lips together. He'd get the information out of him one way or another. Closing his eyes, he let out a long breath, regulating his breathing. Krycek realized immediately what he was planning and decided to share. "They know It's here in the canyon, drawing from the energy of the vortex. They know It's wounded or seriously hurt and It needs the energy to help heal Itself." Mulder opened his eyes, pinning Krycek under his gaze. Scully rested her hands on her hips, letting out a loud huff. "So they had you bring Mulder out here to find it for them." Krycek glanced sideways at her. "They don't know he can do what he does, otherwise, they would be here instead of me and we wouldn't be having this conversation." Scully let out another huff, not believing him, and he turned to face her. "Look, right now, your presence here is nothing more than the usual nuisance to them. They've had people in here looking for it without success. They plan to create a public health hazard threat after the sun goes down tonight so that they can shut the area down to perform a thorough search. Believe me, once that happens this place will be locked up tighter than a drum." He looked at Mulder. "And they aren't going to let a little bit of rain stop them." He swallowed thickly. "It's your call, Mulder. Either you find it, or they do." Mulder met Scully's gaze as she looked up at him. He had to agree with Krycek. If the area was going to be closed down after dark then his only chance at finding the E.B.E. before they did was to do it as soon as possible, storm or no storm. XxXxXxXxX The farther Krycek got away from the vortex, the better he felt. By the time he neared the beginning of the path he was almost feeling back to normal except for a lingering headache. The wind was nearly howling through the canyon, and the dark, heavy clouds were hanging low overhead, the flash of lightening and the subsequent sound of thunder indicating that the storm was about to let loose. He didn't follow the path back to his original starting point, however. He wouldn't be going back to the car as he'd told Mulder. There was another entrance to the canyon for the guests of the resort, and he went that way, as he had intended all along. XxXxXxXxX The wind grew humid, then began to fill with small drops of rain. As the desert accepted the moisture, the sweet, earthy smell of damp red clay and rock permeated the air. The rain increased into a steady thrumming of light drops, pasting their clothes and hair to their skin. They kept moving, the vegetation growing thicker and the air growing cooler as they passed through groves of Ponderosa pines. Big, fat drops were falling, faster and harder, soaking them through. Shivering, they moved carefully, cautious not to accidentally slip or fall into the dry wash below. Their footing was sure, and like a guardian, the omnipresent energy seemed to keep them alert and just warm enough to move on in the face of the rain and wind. When the sky opened up and the rain became slick cold sheets of water that made it difficult for them to see more than a few feet ahead of them on the path, they shared a look and agreed to find temporary shelter. Within yards they came upon a rock formation with an alcove just big enough for the two of them to share, and they ducked inside. They sat side-by-side, with their arms wrapped around their legs Indian-style on the dry flat rock. Mulder coughed, shivering involuntarily and wiping the drops of water off of his face with the back of his wet hand. Scully was struggling futilely to peel the sodden material of her jacket away from the skin on her arms. After a moment, she let out a resigned huff and gave up. "Cold?" he asked her. "Not really," she lied, tightening her arms around her legs. He knew she was lying, just as he knew it was for his benefit. "Wanna hold hands?" he asked, bumping her shoulder with his and a smirk playing on his lips. She was silent for a moment. "What the hell was that, Mulder?" she asked, then turned her head to look directly at him, resting her cheek on her left knee. "The vortex," Mulder replied with a nod. When she didn't respond, he said, "Do you deny that you've felt the effects of the vortex's energy since we've been here?" She exhaled, then drew in a deep breath. She couldn't exactly refute the evidence when she was wide awake and feeling like she could climb any mountain. "Whatever the reason for the second wind we both are experiencing," she answered, "I'm more inclined to believe that what happened between us earlier came from static electricity caused by the storm." "The storm," Mulder replied flatly. "You're saying that was just an over-glorified version of static cling?" "Well, what do you think it was?" "Yin and yang, masculine energy and feminine energy converging," he replied with another cough, his knees gently bouncing with residual nervous energy. "The ideas behind Yin and Yang developed by observing the physical world...nature appears to group into pairs comprised of mutually dependent opposites. According to the Chinese, everything has physical existence because everything manifests both Yin and Yang qualities." "So you're saying that just from the simple fact that you're male and I'm female the vortex generated an electrical current between us strong enough for us both to feel it?" "You saw what it's done to that tree." She paused. "We didn't generate that energy, Mulder, vortex or not. It had to have come from a source that we made contact with." "Maybe there's a current, like a river of energy that runs from the vortex toward another source. It's natural resting place." "A river of energy," she repeated skeptically. She turned her head and looked up at the falling sky, trying not to get rained on any more than she already had been. "It doesn't seem to show any signs of letting up anytime soon," she commented. "How much farther do you think we have to go?" "Not too much farther," Mulder replied, drawing his legs closer to his body as a drop of water dripped off of the end of his nose. "I think we're really close." Scully fell silent, and Mulder added, "We've been going up an incline, and seem to be fairly high up. I don't think a flash flood is in our near future." She turned her head and looked at him directly, an eyebrow raised. She had just been thinking that very thing. "I didn't, Scully, I promise." He shifted closer to her, tightening his arms around his legs as he shivered. "All these years together have taught me a few things about the way your mind works." She looked back out at the falling rain, watching rivulets of water run in little blood-red ditches toward the lowest common ground. Then she moved a little closer to him. She wondered how easy it was for him to do what he does. Could he just turn it on like a switch? "How do you do it, Mulder?" she asked softly without glancing over at him. "I've been thinking about it and I don't get it." He shrugged lightly, understanding what she was asking. "I put myself into a position of relaxation and acceptance and then I concentrate." "That's what I don't understand," she replied, her voice gentle. "How do you know what to concentrate on?" "I don't," he answered. "It's like peripheral vision. I focus on a single point of light and expand it. The thoughts come and I have to maintain my concentration on the light while listening to the thoughts at the same time. Then I sort of sift through them until I find the one I want." "What happens if you lose your focus on this light while you're listening to the thoughts?" "When I try to focus too hard on any one specific thought without the light I lose the thought. I have to do both or it doesn't work." "Hmm," she replied, nodding slightly as she thought about it. "So, the key was keeping yourself receptive and neutral." He studied her for a moment, a look of fondness on his face. "Would you like to try it?" "What, here? Now?" She asked, and he shrugged, still smiling warmly. "Do you have a better suggestion?" She was biting her upper lip, still thinking. "Yes, I would." She replied, glancing up at him a bit hesitantly. He drew in a breath and let it out slowly. Scully was forging new territory. "Have you ever tried to meditate, Scully?" She gave him a raised eyebrow in response, knowing he already knew the answer to that question. The epiphany she reached meditating in front of a Buddhist statue and the subsequent chain of events changed a lot of things for the both of them. Namely, their personal relationship. Mulder grinned with understanding. "Okay, this is a lot like meditation. The first thing is to relax your muscles and regulate your breathing. The best way is to start with your toes and work your way up, imagining the muscles loosening as you go up. Close your eyes." She did as he asked, and let out a long breath, drawing in a few shallow breaths until her breathing began to slow and even out. He watched her hands grow slack, her shoulders relax and her head tip slightly to side before he continued. "Find a point of light and focus on in." His voice was softer, more melodic in its signature monotone. "Behind your eyelids...don't open your eyes, see it in your mind.. it's a pure white light...can you see it?" "Hmmmm..." she replied, licking her lips. She could see the point of brightness he described and she focused on it. "Expand it, take it into you and feel the warmth spread throughout as it grows." He paused, watching her as her brow furrowed. "Accept it, Scully. Embrace it. The light is everything that is good and just and right with the world." A smile came to her lips, and he smiled in response, even though he knew she couldn't see it with her eyes closed. "What do you hear, Scully?" "I hear you," she said softly. "You do?" "Your voice, Mulder. I might be able to hear something else if you weren't talking constantly." He let out a soft chuckle. "Alright, I'll just sit here and think happy thoughts in your direction." Without his conversation she could hear the rain falling against the ground, the trickling of water as it traveled and dripped off of the rock ledge above, and the rush of the wind through the treetops in the canyon. She kept her focus on the white light and as it grew, the sounds became background music to the feeling of peace that she began to feel within. No wonder so many people extolled the merits of meditation. She found that her mind began to free-associate thoughts, random ideas and memories floating by. She didn't analyze it, but allowed them to flow without censure. She was aware that she wasn't hearing anything else, though. Just the wind and the rain from the storm. The more she tried to hear something else, the harder it was for her to maintain her concentration. She reminded herself of what Mulder had said about focusing on the light and letting the rest of it come unbidden, and she redirected her attention to the warmth and the light. A flash followed almost simultaneously by a crash of thunder and the cracking sound of wood broke her concentration completely, and she opened her eyes to see a fallen pine only a few yards away. The storm was directly upon them. But Mulder was no longer sitting next to her. She leaned forward, looking out from beneath the rock's ledge to see if she could see him nearby. When she didn't spot him, she climbed out and stood, turning a full circle without catching sight of Mulder. "Mul-der!" she shouted into the wind, her voice no match for Mother Nature. It was still difficult to see, and the huge raindrops were pelting against her, the water running into her eyes and ears and down her arms and legs. "Mul-der!" she tried again, feeling something akin to panic beginning to stake a claim in her stomach. Turning nearly full-circle again, she thought she could just make out his shape standing on the other side of the fallen tree. With a sigh of relief, she pushed the dripping hair away from her eyes and carefully stepped around the branches of the tree to join him. The rain began to soften, growing lighter and finer, giving her clearer vision. By the time she had circumnavigated the tree, there were only a few residual drops falling from the sky. Mulder was farther away than she had first thought, and he was walking away from her, toward the back of the box canyon. She called to him again, but he didn't turn around. So she followed him. He stopped when he entered a clearing, and as she got closer, she spoke. "What's going on, Mulder?" Mulder didn't reply, and she stepped up behind him, tapping the back of his soaked jacket to get his attention. When he turned around, her eyes grew wide and she caught her breath. It wasn't Mulder she had followed into the box canyon. It was Father Ulrich Schroeder. XxXxXxXxX Chapter Eleven United Airlines Flight 1493 The flight was full, but it didn't matter to him since he was traveling alone. Assistant Directors were entitled to fly business class, a luxury he chose not to take advantage of when traveling with agents under his charge. He preferred to focus on the work, not the entitlement that comes with a specific title. Some of the other A.D.s he knew were not so considerate. Then again, some of those other A.D.s couldn't pull their heads out of their asses and recognize a red flag when an agent subtly waved one in their faces. Those other A.D.s didn't have Mulder and Scully under their charge. Skinner had stopped by Mulder's basement office before leaving for home and then the airport, making a quick visual survey of Mulder's desk and the surrounding area on the chance that there may be more information about their sudden departure for Arizona. Other than stacks of old X Files covering every conceivable area, there was nothing. Nothing to indicate the reason behind the unusual telephone call he'd received from Scully. No reason why they'd dropped everything and taken off for Arizona with Alex Krycek in the middle of the night. The message light indicated that there were voice mail messages waiting to be retrieved, but Skinner didn't know the password so he was unable to retrieve those. It would take too long to try to get someone from the communications department down on a Saturday afternoon to change it. There were new faxes sitting on the fax machine, however, and he scooped the papers out of the tray, shoving them into the side pocket of his briefcase on his way out the door. Now settled into his faux leather airplane seat with a Scotch and water in hand, he pulled his briefcase out from under the seat in front of him and retrieved the fax. It was from the Miami P.D., sent early the previous evening, informing Agent Mulder as the FBI's point of contact on the A.P.B. issued on Antonio Cardinale that Cardinale was taken into custody that afternoon trying to catch a flight to Mexico City under one of his known aliases. Skinner popped the in-flight telephone out of the headrest in the seat in front of him and swiped his Bureau-issued Visa through the credit card slot. Then he dialed the number listed on the fax for the detective in charge, one Eric Castro. "Castro," a voice barked on the other end, the din of the common room he shared with the other detectives of the precinct audible even through the poor air phone connection. "Detective Castro, this is Assistant Director Skinner with the Federal Bureau of Investigation. I'm calling about a man you've got in custody, a Nicaraguan national named Antonio Cardinale." There was a short pause. "I believe you've got the wrong Detective Castro, Assistant Director Skinner. Hang on." Skinner heard a muffled exchange punctuated with the word "shit" before he was put on hold. He imagined more words were being exchanged, knowing how much local law enforcement detested dealing with the Feds. There was the faint sound of music mixed with static coming through the line, and another voice picked up the extension in less than a minute. "Assistant Director Skinner? This is Captain Hawkins. There's been a...well, there's a situation down here involving the man you're asking about." "What kind of a situation are we talking about, Captain?" Skinner asked, letting out a short huff. "Detective Castro, the one who contacted your office, is down at the county jail checking it out right now. It...uh, well...it appears that the suspect hung himself in his cell last night." Skinner bared his teeth and closed his eyes. He should have expected to hear that. Anything less would have been too easy. He blinked and let out a sigh. "Any witnesses?" "Apparently not, at least none that will own up to it." "What about a note?" "Not that we've found." He heard the muffled sound of a hand being placed over the receiver, then Captain Hawkins said, "Wait a minute, Castro's just come back in. I'll let you talk to him." He was put on hold again, this time much longer than the last. Some nasally girl was whining in his ear to a disco beat about doing something again and Skinner reached up and pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger, closing his eyes and silently cursing the situation. He should just hang up the phone and save the taxpayers a few dollars - experience dictated that nothing will turn up and nothing will be done. Cardinale is dead, just like his brother, and whoever is responsible will remain unknown, just like with his brother. And he got the privilege of unwillingly reminding Scully of that fact when he caught up with them in Arizona and told what had happened. A new voice spoke on the other end, this one softer. "Assistant Director Skinner? This is Detective Castro. I'm the one who sent you the fax regarding Antonio Cardinale." Skinner took a deep breath. The background noise had disappeared, which made him suspect that either Castro had moved into a private office, or more likely, everyone had stopped to listen to him explain the situation to the Feds. "Detective, can you tell me what is going on?" The detective cleared his throat, but still he started off hoarse. "Well Sir, the guard found him early this morning. He'd taken off his clothes and tied them to the upper bars of his cell and around his neck. We believe he had been standing on the lower bars and jumped off. The coroner places the time of death around four a.m." "When was the last bed check?" "Two-thirty a.m." "And no one saw this coming?" "Uhhhhhhhhhhh...no Sir. I questioned Cardinale yesterday evening after we confirmed his identity but he didn't say much. I even tried in Spanish but it didn't make any difference. He kept saying a name, or maybe it was a word. He wouldn't tell us what it meant. It wasn't Spanish, I know that. I thought he was trying to convince me that it was his real name or something." "What was this word?" Skinner asked shortly. He was trying to be patient, but his patience was wearing thin with the lack of anything solid to go on. There was a pause. "Uh, hang on, it's in my notes." There was the sound of pages being turned. "Cratchit, Crotchet..." Skinner sat up in his seat, tilting his head slightly. "Krycek?" Castro repeated the name a few times softly. "Krycek...Krycek. Yeah, that sounds like it." Skinner closed his eyes and his shoulders slumped as much as his shoulders ever slumped, which was barely perceptible to the untrained eye. He wondered what the hell Mulder and Scully had gotten involved in this time, running off with that son of a bitch. He let all of the air out of his lungs and shook his head. "Alright, Detective, when your men are finished gathering the external forensic evidence they need to finish their reports I want the body wrapped up carefully and shipped to Quantico." "Yes Sir, I'll take care of it myself." Skinner moved the receiver away from his ear and paused, then popped the air phone back into its cradle and set his jaw. He tossed back the rest of his Scotch and water and stopped the flight attendant as she passed by his seat, discretely showing her his badge. "Is this flight on time?" he asked. She replied soberly. "Yes Sir, I believe we're actually a few minutes early." He glanced out the window, setting his jaw once again then looked back up at her, leaning in and speaking low for privacy. "I need you to call ahead to Phoenix and ask them to hold the 7:12 flight to Flagstaff. I've got to make that flight." She looked a bit spooked but she nodded, and moved quickly toward the cockpit. Skinner leaned back in the seat once again and closed his eyes. He'd have more than a few things to say to that bastard Krycek if he caught up with him first. XxXxXxXxX Enchantment Resort The suite looked out over the canyon, an impressive display of towering red rock and green treetops against the heavy black clouds releasing their fury overhead. Hundreds and thousands of years of water and wind had formed the canyon, as it would continue to do for hundreds more. The changes were so slow and imperceptible, it would probably look the same one hundred years from now. That wasn't his concern, however. He looked at the canyon only to determine what was going on inside. The man at the window took a drag off of the Morley poised between his thumb and forefinger and exhaled a long stream of smoke. "What did you tell them?" he asked Krycek, who sat the wrong way in a straight-backed armchair behind him and to the right, his good arm resting across the chair's back. He could just make out his reflection in the window's glass. "I told them it was ill. That it was using the energy from the vortex to heal itself," Krycek replied. "We don't know that for certain," he said dismissively, taking another drag from his cigarette. "Did they believe you?" "Mulder did." Krycek leaned forward in his chair, watching the smoking man carefully with his eyes while his face remained slack. He was not physically well, and had lost much of the strength he displayed in years past. Mentally, though, he was at the top of his game. Krycek sat up straight and cleared his throat. "She wasn't as accepting, though." A slight smile crossed the smoking man's lips, a look of near fondness. "Agent Scully is always a harder sell." He blew out a puff of smoke and stubbed out his cigarette in an ashtray on the table underneath the window. Then he turned toward Krycek, taking his time before looking at him, lighting up another cigarette. "They know about Cardinale," Krycek said, watching his reaction closely. He exhaled, his face unreadable, like the consummate gambler that he was. "No matter. Cardinale is no longer one of our concerns." He displayed the same ambivalence he might show if he'd been told he was ten minutes late for a dinner reservation. Krycek kept his eyes on him, knowing exactly what he meant when he said 'no longer one of our concerns'. "What makes you so certain Mulder will find It? No one else has been able to," he asked, nodding his head toward the window. He tried to determine what else the man knew that he might be holding back from him. Outside there were flashes of lightening illuminating portions of the black clouds, the answer of thunder coming just seconds behind, but he saw nothing in the smoker's demeanor to give him any new information. "Because he's Mulder," the smoking man replied as he dragged on the fresh cigarette. "I have absolute faith in him. He can find nearly anything once he's set his mind to it." The man smiled, nearly gleefully, as he spoke of Fox Mulder. His esteem and respect were evident, but as with Agent Scully, there was a fondness present as well. The room where the two men held their conversation appeared to be nothing more than an upscale Southwestern-style resort hotel room in a private hacienda. But in the other rooms of the suite, it was the complete antithesis of what one would expect to find in a resort nestled into a picturesque canyon in the Arizona desert. There were satellite receivers, monitors, a variety of computers and electronic equipment cabled together, all maintained and supervised by a handful of young men wearing lab coats, whispering silently to each other over the data they were collecting. An old German with thinning hair and cold blue eyes passed through the stacks of equipment, appearing to be completely out of place as he gingerly stepped over cables and electrical cords. The men in the lab coats fell silent and watched, allowing the man to pass unhindered. He entered the room where the smoker and Krycek were in time to observe the end of the exchange between them, and both men looked up when he spoke. "For this you have brought me here? To watch out of the window and wait for a madman to run around in the rain when we have our own ways of bringing It back secure?" His accent was thick but he spoke slowly and deliberately, like a man used to having everything around him pause for his response. "Need I remind you I've already had to clean up after one of your sloppy mistakes," the smoking man replied flippantly without making eye contact with the German. "You should be grateful that I took care of it before it became an issue within the Catholic Church." The German's eyes grew colder, clearly not accustomed to being treated so disrespectfully. "Besides..." the smoker paused, exhaling a cloud of smoke, "no one we've sent in there to retrieve It can get near It without becoming violently ill. Alex himself couldn't even get halfway into the canyon before he was affected." "And why does this Mulder not have the same reaction?" he scoffed, issuing the agents name distastefully in the process. "It had no effect on either of them, actually," Krycek said, turning to look at him. He was met by four more pairs of curious eyes that had lined up behind the old German, all young men of obvious Aryan descent. They were not the same men monitoring the equipment in the next room, and each one held an air of self-confidence, certain in his ability and participation in the new project. They were all so much younger than their counterparts, who must have been their age when the original project first came to fruition, Krycek thought. Younger than himself, even. There were only two men left from the onset of original project now, left to pick up the pieces and try to rebuild a lifetime of work gone to hell. And it was apparent that those two men were not of the same mind on how the new project should be managed. Each decided his own method for achieving his objective and each assembled his own team of players. There had been advantages to the consortium. A group assembled to decide on the fate of the world was much more democratic than two men who couldn't agree. There were more points of view and each was considered by all. It was easier to accept the decision of a consensus. "They were the perfect choice," Krycek stated, turning back toward the smoker and fixing his eyes on him. "But you already knew that." The smoking man smirked with pleasure, taking another drag. "And how do you know that they will not take It away from us? Or let It escape?" One of the young blonde men with the German asked. "They are federal agents." "We know exactly where Agent Scully is," the smoking man answered, gesturing toward a laptop computer set up on the table next to the ashtray. It was the only piece of electronic equipment in the room, and the screen displayed a topographical outline of the canyon, along with a small red point of light indicating the location of Agent Scully as indicated by the device implanted at the base of her neck. A swirl of smoke followed his hand as he gestured, and he flicked the ashes off of the end of his cigarette as an afterthought. "And what of Agent Mulder?" the same young man replied. The smoker sighed softly, resignedly, and replied as if speaking to a very small child. "Wherever Scully goes, Mulder will follow." His posture indicated that he believed he shouldn't have to be telling them this, they should already know. "When they start to move out of the canyon someone will be waiting for them." "We have waited and they have not moved for a very long time," the old German answered with a huff. For all of his impatience he did not refute the smoker's claims, for he knew them to be accurate. Another enigmatic smile played on the lips of the smoking man, and he drew a long, slow drag off of his Morley, savoring the power that comes with making others wait. His demeanor made it clear that this was, after all, his show. As far as he was concerned, he called all of the shots now. The others were just incidental. All except Mulder, of course. "Give them time," he said, exhaling a cloud of smoke into the room. XxXxXxXxX "What are you doing here?" Scully asked Father Schroeder, her brow furrowed and her eyes wide, showing her disbelief as she stared up at him. "I was lead to believe that you were dead. Mulder and I were assigned to investigate your homicide." "And yet here I stand," he replied, folding his large hands in front of him, a kind smile on his face. "I am here for the same purpose as you." Father Marquette had indicated that Father Schroeder had been involved in a spiritual quest, but Father Marquette also believed that Father Schroeder was buried among his fellow priests in Holy Cross Cemetery. She doubted that this spiritual quest was about finding an extraterrestrial biological entity. And if it was, she was fairly certain that the church didn't know about it. "Do you believe in miracles, Miss Scully?" Father Schroeder asked, giving her the same uneasy feeling that she had encountered in his presence the time before outside of St. Cyril's. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other. "I believe that God's hand can be witnessed, yes." "Then why do you doubt my presence here?" Scully opened her mouth as if to reply, then closed it again. The man standing in front of her was clearly just a man, a hulking big man made of flesh and blood. She'd experienced what she would refer to as a vision before, several years ago, but from her experience she believed it had to involve someone very special to her to be valid. This was not such a situation. "Well, whether or not your being here is a result of God's hand as you suggest, I need to know, are you or are you not Father Ulrich Schroeder?" she asked bluntly. "I have been called by that name, yes." Scully let out a long breath of air and looked around, her eyes squinting from the brightness of the emerging sun reflecting off of the wet trees and plants around her in the canyon. So this was Father Schroeder. Alive. She still felt uneasy, and Mulder's recent disappearance didn't help ease her nerves. He still didn't appear to be anywhere within eyesight and she wondered where he could be and why he'd skipped out on her while she was meditating. "He is nearby," Father Schroeder said, as if reading her thoughts. "Who?" Her voice was sharp, suspicious, as she looked up at him once again. "The one you are worried about. Mulder." "If you know where he is then tell me." Father Schroeder smiled. "As I said, he is nearby." He looked into her eyes and she felt like he was looking straight into her soul. "You have resolved the personal issues we discussed the last time." His staring made her pulse race and she took a deep breath to slow it back down. She had a feeling of conflict because she knew this man to be a legitimate priest, and she'd been raised a Catholic - raised to trust men of the cloth. Confide in them. And yet, this man seemed to know things about her that she hadn't shared, in confession or otherwise. And she knew he had formed a past alliance with Alex Krycek, and man whom she distrusted almost as much as the smoking man himself regardless of Mulder's assertions that his intentions were the same as theirs. Torn, she answered finally, "Yes. How did you know that?" "I have felt it," he replied, "We all have." She held his gaze. "WE who? Who are you working with?" He took a deep breath, as if preparing himself for something important. "Are you familiar with Universal Law, Dana?" "In what context? Where laws of the Universe are concerned, there are no set laws, only theories. The theory of a stationary Universe states that the Universe is comprised of fundamental ingredients, all of which are mutually present and fixed variants...space, time, matter, energy, forces, fields, charges. There's also..." Father Schroeder shook his head and held up his hand. "No, I speak not of theories of science, but of Universal Law, the Law which governs all things. What defines the consciousness of God and how it is expressed. You may know it as Dharma. It is the law of cause and effect, of balance." "Dharma." Scully thought a moment, trying to tie what she knew of Buddhism to what she knew of Father Schroeder. "You studied Buddhism as a Carmelite." He nodded. "Yes, I have studied many religions and religious practices. Buddhism is one of many, but I chose it specifically because it is one I think you may be familiar with, besides your own religion. Is that correct?" She nodded, wondering what Father Schroeder knew of Buddhism and what it had to do with her inability to locate Mulder in the canyon. "I am familiar with some of the teachings but I know very little. I have done a little reading in the last year." She remembered borrowing a few of Mulder's books on the subject just after her experience in a Buddhist temple lead her and Mulder into opening to one another about their feelings. She'd stopped reading just after Mulder disappeared. He looked at her, his eyes warm. "You have learned more than you know." She drew a deep breath through her nose and let it out slowly, processing their exchange. Father Schroeder had steered the conversation toward religion and religious theories, but her primary objective still was to find Mulder. "Perhaps, but right now I'd like to know where Mulder is." He smiled again, shaking his head gently. "You already have the answer, you just need to access it." "Fine. How do I access it?" "Ask yourself, what is life? Life is comprised of relationships within relationships, each one an evolving process. And each process is a system within a system. All of these relationships, processes and systems mutually share rights and responsibilities that allow them to develop their potential and to fulfill their ultimate purpose. Everything that exists exists because of its relationship to something else." She crossed her arms in front of her. "So you're telling me that the answers to every conceivable question are available to me and anyone who knows how to access them because we're all inextricably tied?" "Yes." "Including Mulder's location." He smiled and let out a soft laugh. "Yes." "And this information is..." she held her hands up, "where, exactly?" She was getting frustrated with his ambiguous replies. "In the Akashic Records." At least that was a specific answer. She smacked her lips and nodded, running her tongue over her upper molars. "The Akashic Records." "The complete record of everything that has happened in the Universe since the beginning of time." She let out a huff. "Right." She bowed her head, sucking on her teeth, then looked back up at him. "And how, exactly, do I access these records?" "You already have. You have accessed the Universal Consciousness. That is how you and I have come to be standing here." She stared at him and sighed. "You're saying you're here because I'VE accessed the Universal Consciousness?" "Yes. Through much resistance of mind and perception, you have come to realize that thought and perception are life's greatest adversaries when you take the time to observe your surroundings, question and examine what you know to be true. You understand that everything in life has purpose, potential and value. This means that everything is unique and nothing is ever wasted. We are all connected, but you, Dana, have been given a gift. A gift of faith and of love, a unique gift that has seen, WILL see you through adversity. Both of you." Scully blinked at him, her eyes wide and her mouth falling open. Somehow, Father Schroeder had gained access to her innermost thoughts and feelings. About herself, about Mulder. She'd had the same unnerving sense when she'd met him before, but this time she knew. He had read her, everything inside of her, like an open book. "I see you are uncomfortable," he spoke, more softly. "That is not altogether a bad thing. Resistance develops potential and gives it worth. Obtaining or achieving anything of worth involves overcoming some form of resistance. But above all else, always remember to listen to your heart, Dana. That is where you will find your answers." He stepped forward and laid a hand on her shoulder, and she felt herself sinking to her knees on the damp ground, no longer able to resist. His voice grew stronger, more resonant. "For it is by grace you have been saved, through faith - and this not from yourselves, it is the gift of God." Even with her eyes closed she knew that he was giving her his blessing, making the sign of the cross in the air above her. Then she felt his hand lift from her shoulder. "Use it well, Dana. For yourselves and for all of us." A flash of light followed, and she raised her head, opening her eyes with a gasp. She was no longer in the middle of the box canyon, but found herself back in the alcove, sitting cross-legged underneath the rock's ledge. The rain was pounding the ground and in front of her lay the fallen pine tree. It was as if she'd never left the alcove, except that darkness had descended. And to her right sat Mulder, his eyes closed and his breathing slow and steady. XxXxXxXxX Chapter Twelve Mulder was chasing an alien. A gray, to be exact. He'd spotted It after lightening had struck and felled the pine tree just outside the alcove, and he followed It into a box canyon, then lost sight of It. The rain had petered out, leaving the ground soaked and foliage covered in drops of water, but the air was clean and smelled fresh, like pine needles and newly tilled earth. Reaching a clearing, he drew in a deep breath of air and let it out as he turned a full circle, trying to figure out where It might have gone. There was a steep solid wall of red tinted rock at the back and sides of the canyon, with a little bit of scrub brush growing out of the cracks and on the ground, just for added color. Farther up there were trees. "Beautiful, isn't it?" a deep voice asked. He couldn't tell where the voice came from, and he spun around to check behind him once more. It was there. Mulder blinked at It a few times, and It blinked large, black, almond-shaped eyes in response. Mulder's lips parted, a look of shock and surprise on his face. "I don't bite," It said. He noticed that It didn't move It's mouth. "I didn't expect you to," Mulder replied aloud, noting how different this one looked from the one he'd chased in the tanker trucks all the way to Trona. This one was small, smaller than Scully - exactly like he'd expected a gray to look. "I'll take that as a compliment," It replied, still not moving It's mouth. Mulder realized that he was hearing it telepathically, just like reading thoughts only he didn't have to work at it. It just came naturally. "It's just that the other one I saw wasn't like you." Mulder thought the response. "Like me?" It answered. Mulder paused, realizing that to the best of his knowledge, he was communicating telepathically with an alien. "It was...taller," he stammered, raising his hand in the air above his head as an example. "Are you implying that I'm short?" "No, I wasn't implying that," he replied, quick to repair his mistake. Then he realized that it wasn't offense that drove the question, but mirth, and he relaxed a little bit. A gray with a sense of humor. Who'd have thought? "I'll take that as a compliment as well. I understand your last experience left you confused." Mulder shook his head, unused to having his every thought read by someone else. "So you're familiar with the other one. Who was he?" He paused, a look of realization crossing his face. "Or should I say she?" "What do you think?" Mulder thought about the question. "She?" "Not exactly." "Okay, so It was of a different race altogether?" "Not exactly. I didn't say there wasn't a connection. We're not all the same, just like you're not all the same. I don't have to look like this, you know." "You mean you can change form?" He had seen evidence of this before. "Then why this...?" He gestured from head to foot. "Because you are more inclined to believe if you see me this way." "As an alien? You look like an alien because of me?" "Are you suggesting this look is less than desirable? What makes you think you're so much to look at?" It paused a beat before continuing. "But let me put it this way, would you be more or less believing if I looked human?" Mulder ran his hand over his mouth, staring at It. Unreal. "I thought I'd found one of you guys once before. It turned out I was high on mushrooms. I'm wondering what it is affecting me this time." "What did you have for lunch today?" "Airplane food. Tasteless, yes, but not psychotropic, at least, I don't think it was. Otherwise, there'd be a lot of weird crap going on in Arizona tonight." The gray chuckled, a low, deep laugh like James Earl Jones. In fact, it sounded a lot like James Earl Jones. "You're pretty funny, you know that?" "I could say the same about you." Mulder paused, crossing his arms. "Who are you?" "I am not James Earl Jones." "I didn't say you were. I suppose you can change your voice as well." It raised a long, slim finger and pressed it against It's face where It's nose would be, then pointed it at him. "Nothing gets past you." Mulder's lips parted in a near smile. Unreal. "So, who are you?" "I am all that is and ever will be." "That's what the other one said. So It WAS one of you, then." "Why do you need to know about the other?" "I need to know why It was here. Just like I need to know why you're here." "I'm here to talk with you." "Uh huh, right. You expect me to believe that you're here because of me?" "No, technically, you're here because of ME. But, we are in effect talking, aren't we?" It asked. Mulder blinked at It once more. "Right." He looked it over, still marveling at the fact that he'd found It. "And what do they call you, then?" "They?" "They. Others." "Why do you have to assign a name to everything?" He shrugged. "How else do you communicate? Do you just call each other 'hey you' or what?" "We don't call each other anything. We know who we're speaking to and who is responding to us. Names are irrelevant." "You already know everyone?" "Yes, and vice versa." It sighed. "But if you must, you can call me Andy." "Andy?" he spoke aloud, letting the name roll off his tongue with a surprised tone, then quirked his eyebrow at it in a very Scully- esque maneuver. "I've always liked the name Andy." 'Andy' Mulder mouthed, looking down at the ground and shaking his head with a smirk. This was worse than his psychotropic mushroom experience. Maybe this was a result of that electric orgasm he and Scully had experienced earlier, affecting his synapses. Why else would he be seeing an extraterrestrial biological entity named Andy with a sense of humor and a voice like James Earl Jones? "I can see you've picked up a lot of behavioral and thought patterns from your partner. The answer is, because you respond to humor, that's why." It replied. "There is a reason for everything." Mulder had forgotten that they were communicating telepathically and his thoughts were the same as statements. "So what are you here to tell me, Andy? Or are you just here to mess with my head?" "That's not too hard to do, apparently." Mulder scowled. "So you're here to talk but you're not here to say anything, is that correct?" "I have plenty to say." "Then why do you keep talking circles around the subject if you already know what I want to know?" "There was a subject?" Mulder pressed his lips together and shifted his weight from one foot to the other impatiently, crossing his arms in front of him. He was seriously beginning to wonder if he was being set up for some kind of candid camera program, or worse, some kind of cheesy Fox Network ratings-grabber like 'America's Funniest FBI Pranks.' It was quite an elaborate scene if that were the case. And where was Scully? He couldn't believe she'd wandered off without him. He needed to find her, and she needed to be here to see this. He glanced around, hoping to catch sight of her and uncrossed his arms. "Just tell me why you're here." "I told you, I'm here to talk with you. Are you ready to listen now?" He paused. "I've been ready. So far all you've done is talk in circles." "I'm just answering your questions." "Okaaaaaaaayyyyyyy," he replied slowly, nodding. He wasn't going to fall into another one of It's tangential traps again. "What did YOU want to talk about?" "About the future of your people. Your race, your planet." Mulder drew in a long breath and let it out slowly. "Let's just cut to the chase, shall we? You're here to begin colonization." "I didn't say that. I told you, I'm here to talk with YOU." "Alright." He took a moment to try to clear his head. Maybe it was the lack of sleep that was causing his mind to play tricks on him. "It's not a trick." It responded. "There is no ulterior motive. I am nothing more or nothing less than what I have revealed to you." Mulder sighed. The lack of sleep he'd had notwithstanding, he wasn't' tired, and this - Andy, or whoever - was really starting to annoy him. He wanted answers. "What is the future?" he asked. "I don't know the answer to that question. The future is not predetermined. There may be probabilities and likelihoods, but everything depends on how each individual uses his or her free will." "Free will." "Yes, free will. Everything that is to come is a result of your decision, and you can make a difference. It all begins with you." "Why me?" "Why not you? You see yourself as separate from the rest of the universe, but you don't realize that you are as much a part of it as the sun and the smallest grain of sand." "I am." Mulder replied flatly. "Man has a habit of reducing his understanding to the perceptions of his own mind. He has difficulty breaking through his own frame of reference and allowing his imagination to take quantum leaps into other dimensions, transcending the limits imposed by lifetimes of structured thinking." "You said lifetimes." "Yes, lifetimes." "As in, more than one." "Yes." Mulder nodded, processing everything he had just heard. Reincarnation. This was getting interesting. Strange, but interesting. "And everything I do has an effect on everything else." "With each individual soul's progression, the machinery and the movement of the entire cosmos is effected, because each individual soul is that important." "So each individual soul is a part of the whole, has an influence on the whole, which is what will determine the future." "Exactly. Imagine then...the power of two." "Two what?" "Two souls. Joined, progressing together." "Twice as effective?" "More than twice. For along with each individual soul in the union there is also the strength of the union." "The whole is greater than the sum of its parts." Mulder replied. "Yes." "And that isn't a common occurrence?" "Oh heavens, no. Anybody can claim they are in love and have sex. Many do. This is different." Mulder looked down at the ground and kicked at a pebble with the toe of his shoe. Then he looked back up at Andy. "I realize that. Why have you gone to all of the trouble just to tell me this?" "What I'm telling you isn't anything different than what I would tell anyone else in your position, if they were ready to listen. You are ready to listen." "That's it? Because I'm ready to listen? I thought you said that two souls joined was a rare occurrence." "Rare, but not impossible. But you're both ready now. You've completed a journey of sorts." "Both?" "Yes. The union you've formed is a very powerful one. It has not gone unnoticed." "Then why aren't you talking to both of us? Why just me?" Mulder looked around again, hoping Scully may have wandered into the clearing. Andy just blinked at him. Mulder looked at him a moment. "You said that you look and sound this way, that you approached me with humor because that is what I would respond to. So Scully is seeing something or someone else, something that SHE will respond to, isn't she?" Andy blinked at him again. "What can I say? You're sharp as a tack. Can I tell you a story?" Mulder paused a moment, then raised his hand in an open gesture. "Be my guest." "You see, you...your people...have been in a period of trial. No doubt you've noticed the enormous changes that have occurred within the last century. Technology, interpersonal relationships, lifestyle, your beliefs and the way that you approach them. Great changes in your environment and the weather. It's no accident." Mulder drew in a deep breath and let it out, remaining silent. "There have been great leaps in knowledge. You've conquered diseases. But you've also created diseases. You've found ways to be more comfortable, yet people suffer every day. Needless, painful suffering." "But we're working on it," Mulder replied. "It's not completely hopeless. Every day we find new cures, new methods of treatment. Lives are saved." "Yes. This is important. Even the sparing of one life makes a difference." Mulder shrugged. "So what's the problem?" "You've strayed too far." "Strayed how? And from what?" "You were given independence along with free will with the hope that you would use that free will to CHOOSE to live your life the way He intended. But rather than strive for that ideal, you've turned away from it. You've been given models to follow, but over time you've become lost in the earthly world." "This sounds more like a sermon than a story." "This isn't my story, smartass. I'm getting to that." Mulder's mouth fell open slightly and he nodded sheepishly. Andy continued. "I mentioned a period of trial. Years ago, your people were approached. They were told what I've just told you and given a choice. Well, actually, several choices. Mass destruction of your world as you know it was spelled out. The apocalypse. Colonization." "The Conspiracy." Mulder supplied at the word 'colonization'. "Yes. You have some knowledge of this project already. These men who were contacted were not chosen randomly. They formed a consortium, a group comprised of men of position from all over the world. They shared one goal - to find a way to deal with the ultimatum that they had been given." "Resist or serve." "That is correct. The potential in their hands was boundless. Hunger, dissention, socioeconomic tribulation...they had the ability to end it all worldwide. They had the basic elements: an open dialogue and a common obstacle to overcome. They had the opportunity, the voice, the financial means. They knew what was at stake. But they chose another path. They chose power and personal gain over the greater good." "Sounds like the U.N." Mulder replied. "With heavier overtones. Those members who opposed the consensus were punished, many had their lives and their loved ones taken from them. Not to mention the deliberate killing of hundreds of innocents." Mulder swallowed, nodding again. He knew of this first hand. His sister, his father. Scully's sister. He nearly lost Scully. More times than he cared to count. "Yes, you have lost loved ones," Andy responded. "But I assure you, they are not lost." Mulder shifted his weight, crossing his arms again. "The project was stopped, but these men, those behind the original conspiracy...they have resurrected the project. They had the other one, and they want you." "I am in no danger," Andy replied. "The project is finished and the trial is over. Don't misunderstand me, the men who are left are dangerous. They are not functioning with the greater good in mind and they can do much harm. You know this. You should be careful." Mulder nodded again. "So what of this trial? What happens now?" "The future is not finite." "But we passed?" "By the skin of your teeth, you might say. You played no small part in that." "Me?" Mulder replied with surprise, then tilted his head, squinting up at the sky as light sprinkles of rain began to fall again. "You and your partner. I told you, you have not gone unnoticed. Two people united against a group of many. You are an example of how free will can be used toward the greater good. You've proven that there is still potential for your people to achieve their ultimate goal." "So if we've already achieved this, why are you here?" "Remember, the future is not finite. The two of you are among millions in the cosmos. Some have the greater good in mind and many do not. We felt that you needed to know that you're heading in the right direction, but you've still got a long way to go." Mulder shivered, feeling chilled as the rain grew stronger. "But what are we..." He was interrupted by a sudden flash of lightening, so bright that it illuminated everything in the canyon. He reflexively shielded his eyes, and heard a loud cracking, a crash and the booming of thunder. When he opened his eyes he was no longer standing in the box canyon. He was sitting in the dark underneath the rock ledge in the alcove, barely able to make out the outline of Scully sitting next to him. He could hear her quick, heavy breathing, and as his eyes adjusted to the darkness he was able to see her eyes, looking at him with bewilderment. "You're not going to believe this," he said. "Try me." He shifted his position, and glanced out into the darkness. "Okay, but I'll tell you on the way. Krycek said they'd close the entrance to the canyon when it got dark and we've got to get out of here before they find us." He climbed out from under the ledge and she did the same, smoothing her hands over her suit jacket as she stood. She paused, and Mulder stopped a few feet away, turning to look at her when he realized she wasn't following him. "What is it, Scully?" She was suveying the ground. "My ring," she replied, looked up at him with wide eyes as she massaged her bare ring finger. "It's gone." "What?" he stepped back over to her, kneeling down and reaching inside of the alcove, running his fingers over the flat, layered rock. He didn't find anything but smooth rock. "It's not here." He stood, placing a hand on her shoulder and felt her let out a shuddering sigh. "It's too dark. We're not going to find it tonight, Scully." She looked up at him, her face crestfallen and her eyes showing her disappointment. Mulder ran his hand over the back of her head tenderly. "It's just a ring, I'll get you another one. I'll even let you pick it out. C'mon, let's get out of here." XxXxXxXxX Enchantment Resort The room was lit by a flash of lightening followed almost immediately by the loud crash of thunder, and the equipment set up in the main room of the hacienda powered off, the monitors going blank. The men in lab coats rushed around pressing power buttons and checking cable connections as the smoker lit another Morley in the next room, drawing the smoke deep into his lungs. After a moment one of the men approached him, the sweat glistening off of his brow. "What is it?" the smoker asked. "All of the settings and connections check out alright, but we're not picking up any readings." The smoker exhaled, his eyes squinting as he looked at the man. "That's impossible." "We've checked everything twice, Sir. The lightening must have caused a power surge that effected all of the settings. Either that, or..." he swallowed. "It's gone." The smoker turned and looked at the laptop on the table. The spot indicating Scully's position had moved - Scully and Mulder were on their way back out of the canyon. He glanced over at Krycek, who met his look briefly, then quickly left the room. He brushed by the old German on his way out. "I was afraid that this would happen. This is not acceptable," the German stated, his blue eyes boring into the smoker's. The smoker took another drag from his cigarette, forcing a smile. "Nothing has changed." He stubbed the cigarette out and turned to face his co-conspirator. "I told you, Herr Strughold, I have everything under control." XxXxXxXxX There were men from the C.D.C. on the flight from Phoenix to Flagstaff, and Skinner overheard their conversation on the way. Like him, they had been on the flight from D.C., and they were going to investigate a reported public health situation that had come out of one of their local offices, involving a highly trafficked tourist spot in Sedona. Skinner knew the M.O. A sudden public health threat, the closure of a canyon after the sun goes down, and all of it happening in the paranormal hotseat of Sedona. Without thinking twice he followed the men through the airport, stood behind them in the rental car line, and followed them out of the parking lot all of the way to Sedona. He was certain Mulder and Scully would be there. His credentials got him beyond the road block just beyond the entrance to Enchantment Resort and into the parking lot at the mouth of Boynton Canyon. He stood off to the side, observing while some of the men suited up in their protective coveralls. What made him uneasy, however, was the glimpse he'd gotten of a stack of high- powered rifles in the back of one of the unmarked government licensed trucks. Military issue rifles. An in-air phone call to the Bureau just after his call to Miami had earned him the make, model and license number of the car the agents had rented against Scully's Bureau-issued Visa, and with the parking lot nearly empty now, it wasn't difficult to locate the vehicle. They were in the canyon. He wasn't one to take unnecessary risks, especially when there was a potential for disease or virus. He'd learned first hand about the darker side of what modern medicine and technology were capable of a couple of years ago when Krycek infected him with some kind of nanotechnology that invaded his bloodstream, and kept him at the bastard's mercy. He had been pronounced dead on the operating table, only to make a miraculous recovery just minutes later. Krycek had made his point clear, and Skinner was compromised. There hadn't been another demonstration of the power Krycek held over him, and he'd done everything asked of him. He knew even now that Krycek would kill him without conscience if he didn't. Still, if he got one clear shot at that bastard, he wouldn't hesitate to take it. Now, even though he wasn't clear on what role Krycek was playing with Mulder and Scully, the situation seemed to warrant action. The people behind the closing of the canyon were deadly serious in their intentions and he feared that Mulder and Scully had been set up, by Krycek or possibly the smoking man himself. Making his way through the parking lot by carefully crouching beside the parked cars, he waited until he had an unobserved path into the canyon and sprinted, slipping behind a large bush. When he was certain that no one had seen him he moved on down the trail, into the canyon and out of visual distance of the parking lot. XxXxXxXxX Chapter Thirteen Boynton Canyon The rain had stopped, and the clouds began to break up and move on, allowing them moments of moonlight to help guide them along the rocky path. "I don't accept that, Scully," Mulder was saying ardently, following closely behind her while the clouds temporarily masked the moon. "We both came in contact with an individual entity that claimed to be there specifically to deliver an important message, and we both found ourselves right back in that alcove within seconds of each other with no knowledge of the amount of time we spent there. Yet a significant amount of time had clearly passed." Small pieces of rock crunched under the hard soles of her shoes as she walked, and she was grateful that the path was more rock than mud. "Mulder, you and I have had very little sleep in the last 48 hours." His mouth pressed into a thin line and his response was clipped. "I wasn't walking in my sleep." "I believe you experienced something, Mulder, whether it was a result of being in a highly suggestive state of fatigue or...or the residual effects from coming into contact with that energy source earlier. What I'm saying is that I don't believe that what I experienced and what you experienced was a possible abduction or a simultaneous telepathic visionary event." "Parallel experiences both taking place in a box canyon several hundred feet away from where we started and finished, both during the same block of time, both receiving the same message...what would you call it, then?" She stopped, her breathing slightly accelerated from the exertion, and looked over her shoulder at him. Her look told him she wasn't going to take his bait. If she did, he knew what her answer would be. Mulder sighed. "Alright, for the sake of argument, say you and I both were sleepwalking. According to the Kabalist, Eliphas Levi, the paraphernalia and instruments of divinations, such as somnambulism, premonitions and second sight, are simply means for communications between the divinator and the individual who consults him. They serve to fix and concentrate two wills upon the same sign or object. Thus one is enabled at times to see a message in the leaves of a tea cup, or in the clouds, in the white of an egg..." She drew in deep breath and held it a moment before letting it out. "Father Schroeder is alive, Mulder, and he's in this canyon. I spoke with him." "Then you admit the possibility of my abduction theory, that I actually spoke with the E.B.E. then? That it wasn't a vision for me, either?" "Andy?" she asked with no lack of incredulity. The moon came out in time for him to see her eyebrow cocked as if challenging him to prove that one. He realized how ridiculous it sounded as he was relaying the details of his encounter to her. If anything, she ought to know based on that fact that it was too far-fetched NOT to be true. "I told you, he said that he chose humor because I would respond to it. Just like you responded to seeing a man of the cloth." "If your other theory is true, if we both saw was a vision at the same time, then why him?" she asked, turning all of the way around to face him. "Why Father Schroeder? Why not my Sunday school teacher, or the family priest who gave me my first communion?" Mulder stared back at her stubbornly, shaking his head as she continued to walk ahead. "I can't answer that. I don't think we choose our messengers, I think they come along when our minds are open enough to receive them. Explain to me how we both simultaneously heard different presentations of the same message - the oneness of all life, the power of two individuals striving for the greater good of all mankind..." "Mulder, it's a universal theme in most, if not all religions, and we've both been exposed to more than just a little religious-themed information of late. We've had little sleep, combined with the fact that our relationship has recently changed on a much more personal level..." He let out a huff, crossing his arms in front of his chest the way that she had done so many times in the past. "So THAT'S your explanation? It's just coincidence? The part that we BOTH heard about you and I having a powerful connection...are you gonna tell me it's just a load of romantic crap brought on in the afterglow of last night's sex or that electric orgasm we both just experienced?" She could tell by his tone that he was growing angry, and she studied his face carefully, trying to read what was in his eyes. "Of course not," she said softly. She knew their connection was a powerful one before they ever set foot in Sedona, even if they had never consummated the relationship. "Then you accept the message? Or at least PART of it..." "It's not the meaning of the message that I doubt, Mulder, it's the way that you claim it was delivered." He ground his teeth together, stepping closer to her and she could see the frustration flash in his eyes. His voice was soft as he spoke, but it held a slight tremor. "Tell me something, Scully. How is it that you can go into a Buddhist temple and see a vision, you can see Emily lying on a gurney in the place of a cadaver during an autopsy, but you can't accept this for what it was?" He held her gaze and she stared back at him, not knowing what to say. It wasn't him she doubted. She never doubted him or the depth of his beliefs, she merely questioned the plausibility of his allegations. Didn't he understand that by now? She opened her mouth a few times to tell him so, but Mulder broke their gaze, moving past her to head down the path alone, his jaw set and his shoulders squared. "Mulder..." she called to him, then let out a frustrated sigh, following him down the trail. XxXxXxXxx They moved on in silence, neither speaking but both thinking about their disagreement. Mulder was considering that perhaps she HAD really spoken with Ulrich, as he hadn't actually seen the event take place. It was possible that she had walked into the canyon, had a conversation with Father Schroeder and then returned to the alcove without remembering how she got back. What didn't make sense, though, was the fact that she could remember the conversation but not the part about returning to the alcove. That, and the fact that Father Schroeder was reportedly dead and six feet under back in Washington D.C. Mulder had to concede that he hadn't slept since the night before last, and although he felt no fatigue, it was possible that he might be suffering from sleep deprivation. And he had spent more than a passing thought on their developing relationship, so her arguments were valid. For her part, Scully was crabby, and she knew it. She had the beginning symptoms of a potential migraine. She had been dragged out of her comfortable apartment in the middle of the night, just after sex, sans shower or sleep, and across the country to go traipsing around nature in a rainstorm. She felt dirty, sticky, itchy and cold. She wanted a hot shower and a soft bed, even though she wasn't tired...she just wanted to shut her eyes and turn off her thoughts for a little while. She wanted to forget that Mulder was pissed off at her for thinking the way she thinks and that they were in Arizona with Alex Krycek, chasing aliens and talking to alleged dead priests who wanted to impart divine wisdom about the power of their relationship. She wanted to go home. At this point, she'd even settle for the rental car and miles of good road in the right direction. She considered that perhaps Mulder had come closer to the truth than she'd like to admit - He had more or less implied that she might be more inclined to believe she'd had a vision if it had been hers alone. She'd always taken a more skeptical approach whenever Mulder insisted he'd seen something not easily explained, as it was always her designated role to do so. Usually, Mulder wasn't there to take the leap of logic for her when she would more readily accept the less-than-plausible theory. And the fact remained that they both received messages that were strikingly similar, both of them finding themselves right back in the alcove with no knowledge of how they had gotten back there. "Listen to your heart," Father Schroeder had told her, and she had taken his message to heart, despite her questions about his appearance. She had to consider both points of view. And there was one thing that had yet to be done, but she could do when she got home. She would petition the church for permission to exhume and examine the body that they claimed and buried in the name of Father Ulrich Schroeder, to lay to rest once and for all the question about the identity of the man lying in St. Mary's Cemetery. That would explain a lot about the nature of her meeting with the man in the canyon. Mulder had stopped, and was looking at sky ahead. She stepped up beside him, watching his face for a clue about what he was thinking. "What is it, Mulder?" she asked, concern in her voice. His lips were pursed together, his eyes squinting. "Chopper." She looked in the direction of his gaze, and they both saw a helicopter rise up in the distance, the movement of the spotlight accompanied by the soft, distinct sound of the machinery. "Do you think they're looking for us?" He didn't appear to be angry with her anymore. He bit the inside of his cheek, still watching, and shook his head. "I don't think so. Whoever that is, we probably want to avoid them at all costs. Come on." He touched his hand to her lower back and she let out a breath, moving ahead with him at a much quicker pace than before. XxXxXxXxX Skinner found himself at a juncture where the trail split and he chose another direction, the one that led upward toward the back of the canyon, rather than heading toward the prominent knoll and the strange rock formations. It was dark, but the moon was beginning to make an appearance more and more frequently and he was able to make his way without stumbling or falling into the wash that ran alongside the trail. The trail was firm, as it was mostly rock and packed dirt, but there were a few muddy places that he had to navigate around. However, the lack of visible footprints led him to believe that perhaps he'd chosen the wrong trail. He heard a helicopter engine, and saw a searchlight illuminating the area that he assumed was the mouth of the canyon where the C.D.C. had begun their investigation. The presence of the helicopter was actually a bonus in his estimation, as it gave him an idea of where they were in relation to where he was, so he had the advantage when it came to staying out of sight. He figured Mulder and Scully would be avoiding that helicopter as well. He proceeded cautiously, making as little noise as possible while keeping his ears open for sounds of other feet on the trail or maybe even voices. After nearly half an hour of hiking in relative silence, he paused just below a rocky incline which lead up to a ledge. It would be an easy climb and since nearly all of the clouds had vanished, he had the assistance of full moonlight to help him see the way. From the ledge he'd be able to see a good portion of the area that lay ahead of him. He saw movement on the ledge, and crouching beside a large bush, saw the figure of a man. He was facing the other direction, looking out over the canyon as Skinner had intended to do. Unaware that he had been spotted from behind, the man crouched down on his haunches as he perused the canyon. Alex Krycek. Skinner moved slowly, picking his way up the incline as quietly as possible. The helicopter was drawing closer, the sound of its engine helping to mask his approach. As he reached the flat ground of the ledge Krycek turned, realizing that he had company. "Assistant Director Skinner," Krycek said with a chuff, as if he'd expected to see him all along. "Where are they?" Skinner asked. He didn't need to say who - they both knew who he meant. "Down there, somewhere," Krycek pointed over the edge toward the canyon below. Skinner stepped closer and looked down. There as a sharp drop, and then a sprinkling of brush and trees on the wall of the ledge where it gradually inclined toward the bottom of the canyon. Beyond the incline, there was a large clearing that appeared to be some kind of camping site. It was a long way down. "What's going on here?" Skinner asked, looking Krycek in the eye as he did so. "An alien hunt," Krycek replied. Krycek's flip demeanor played on his already raw nerves, and Skinner grit his teeth. "I've seen the C.D.C. gathering in the parking lot, Krycek, and they aren't here to take water samples. What kind of a game are you playing?" "It's no game," Krycek said, pressing his lips into a thin line. He turned, looking back out over the canyon once more. "This is deadly serious." "Are they being set up?" Krycek didn't respond, and didn't meet his gaze. Skinner folded his arms in front of him and shifted his weight on his feet. To say he was already irritated was an understatement. He let out a huff of air and clenched his eyes shut a moment. "What's your role in all of this?" he prodded. Again, Krycek didn't respond. Mulder's voice came from behind, saying, "That seems to be the $64,000 question." Skinner and Krycek both turned to see Mulder and Scully stepping onto the rock ledge behind them. "Are you two alright?" Skinner asked, glancing from his face to hers and back to his again. "Fine," Mulder said with a nod, standing with his feet spread apart in a position of defense. The sound of the nearby helicopter was growing louder, indicating that it was getting even closer. "But we need to get out of here before that chopper finds us or we may all be what they'll sell to the media as the next big outbreak of the Hanta virus." Skinner nodded, and Scully touched a hand to Mulder's arm. "Father Schroeder..." Mulder looked at her a moment, then nodded. He understood she was concerned that he might still be in the canyon. Skinner watched their interaction, and asked with incredulity, "What about Father Schroeder?" Scully replied, "He's alive and I have every reason to believe he's in this canyon." They had to talk louder than usual to compensate for the sound of the helicopter filling their ears. Skinner turned to Mulder. "I didn't see him, but Scully did," Mulder shouted. Scully looked up at him with a look of gratitude for accepting her interpretation of her experience and he met her look with a gleam of respect in his eye. "She saw him in the back of the canyon. He may have made his way out already but we have no way of knowing that." Krycek let out a huff, shaking his head. "That wasn't Ulrich. I can promise you that he is very dead." "You said you weren't involved in his murder." Scully replied, turning to face him. Krycek remained silent, and Skinner stepped forward, grabbing the younger man by the lapels of his leather jacket. "You'd better start talking while you still have the ability, Krycek. What do you know about it?" "I don't know anything more than what I've already told you. You won't find the shooter." "Antonio Cardinale was apprehended trying to leave the country. He hung himself in his cell in Miami. Again, what do you know about it?" Skinner asked him. "Antonio was a hired killer, hired by smoking man, just like his brother Luis." Scully paced back and forth in front of him like a caged tiger. Smoking man. C.G.B. Spender. The man who made overtures to her about the cure for cancer, convinced her to follow him, talked about turning over a new leaf before dying then betrayed her and Mulder's trust in her. The mere mention of the man crushed her capacity for forgiveness. "You're saying that smoking man hired Antonio Cardinale to kill Father Schroeder, just as he hired Luis Cardinale to shoot my sister in my apartment?" "He hired him, but it wasn't your sister he was supposed to kill." She drew in a long breath, her chest rising as she glanced over at Mulder. His hands were clenching and unclenching into fists at his sides. "Smoking man wanted me dead. You would know that because you were there as well, weren't you?" Scully nearly barked at Krycek, her accusation hitting him square on the mark as her eyes burned into his. "Both times, then and now." He averted his gaze briefly, then met her look head on, which in and of itself was a reply. "I didn't kill the priest." Scully's anger was at full boil with Krycek's admission. He was in her apartment with Luis Cardinale. Hired by C.G.B. Spender to kill her because she'd gotten to close to the truth about the project. And for all of Spender's paternal ramblings of affection and respect, taking credit for saving her life, for the technology at the base of her neck that allegedly put her cancer into remission, he was the one responsible for taking Melissa's life. Missy, her big sister, who never knew what she was stepping into when she walked in that apartment door and received a bullet. All of the suffering! Not only had he tried to have her killed, he had taken her, took away three months of her life and her ability to bear children. She felt the full implication of his betrayal even more keenly than before, in addition to the sting of Krycek's participation in that betrayal. He stood before her. A living, physical testament to the pain and deceit. She knew Mulder suspected Krycek of killing his own father, and as all of the pieces fell into place her heart hardened. She reached behind her back, feeling for her weapon, making sure it was still there. One false move on his part and all it would take was one clear shot right between the eyes...one shot in exchange for the mountain of hurt she and Mulder had suffered at the hands of these men. For Missy, for Emily, for Bill Mulder and Samantha... Her finger twitched as it touched the cold gun metal, her head immediately starting to throb as her headache grew stronger. One shot. Mulder turned away from Krycek, his hands on his hips and his lips pulled back over his teeth in an angry grimace. His feelings were obvious, and he was barely keeping them under control, but it was a hell of an internal debate. He wanted revenge, for himself and for Scully. He could see Scully seething, feel her pain and that was even more of an incentive to take him out. He should have taken out that black-lunged S.O.B. when he had the chance, but Krycek would do in a pinch. He'd spent six months with Krycek, reading his thoughts. He never read this...the man was adept at keeping secrets. For all of his Hegalian intent, Alex Krycek deserved to die for his sins just as much as C.G.B. Spender did. Skinner was not oblivious to the pain his agents were experiencing, and he already had his hands on Krycek. He shoved him against the rock wall that supported the ledge, his back mercilessly pressed into a large protrusion that bent his spine at an unnatural angle. Krycek grimaced, trying not to show how uncomfortable he really was as Skinner got down in his face. "Whether you actually pulled the trigger or not, this is where it all ends, you son of a bitch." Krycek laughed in his face in spite of his pain - a hollow, frightened sound meant to show his lack of fear. "You don't get it," he said, his eyes serious. "It's not just me or him. It's never been just him. He's had to answer to someone else just like I've had to do." He tossed his head in Mulder and Scully's direction. "Just like they do with you and you do with..." "Who?" Skinner interrupted. He was close enough to feel his panting breath, his teeth bared. He shoved against him once more, his forearm covering his trachea, crushing it. "Who is calling all of the shots?" Krycek struggled against Skinner, unable to gain any leverage. If he could just get a foot on firm ground... "Strughold," he huffed out finally, his body drooping from the exertion. Mulder turned and looked at Scully, and she glanced up to meet his gaze. "Strughold Mining Company," she said to him in a low voice, barely audible above the chopper's engine, and he nodded. All of those files they'd found years ago, locked in the side of a mountain. All containing tissue samples. A genetic database of every man, woman and child born in the United States since the 1950's. Her name had been on one of those files. So had his, covered over with Samantha's name instead. Skinner pushed him harder. "Who is Strughold?" he asked roughly. "An original member of the consortium," Krycek replied hoarsely, his feet slipping out from under him, creating added pressure on his throat where Skinner had him pinned. "Part of the Paper Clip operation, the one directly responsible for instigating and implementing the project." "The consortium is finished," Mulder yelled, stepping forward. "They all died at El Rico. There is no more project." "No. Not everybody," Krycek replied, the sweat dripping off his brow. "Strughold wasn't there. Smoking Man wasn't there." "And neither were you," Scully added with contempt. Krycek coughed, the air passing through his lips in thin gasps. "You're wasting time. They're here now. Both of them. To capture the E.B.E. To rebuild the project." "Whatever they told you, the E.B.E. is gone," Mulder replied, "and there's not going to be another project. It's out of their hands. It's finished." Krycek chuckled, despite his situation. His eyes were dark and cold. "There will be another project. Don't you get it? These people control the future. In true Nazi form, Strughold has retained records on everything. He's got a team of geneticists assembled. All he needs is the genetic material from the living E.B.E. to pick up where they left off last time." "Not if I have anything to say about it," Skinner growled in his face. "You may have been able to manipulate me in the past, but that stops right here, right now, even if I have to die to see that it does." Krycek closed his eyes, then looked straight at him. "I don't have the ability to kill you anymore." Skinner barely heard him. Or perhaps he misunderstood. "What?" he barked. "The nanotechnology that infected your blood. It's gone. The body breaks it down like any foreign substance." "How?" Scully asked, stepping closer so that she could hear better over the pulsing of the helicopter engine growing nearer and nearer. "White blood cells. They attack it like an infection and eliminate it in the usual way." "How long?" Skinner hissed. When he didn't receive an answer, he pushed his full weight against Krycek's throat and growled, "HOW LONG?" Krycek's feet kicked underneath him, struggling for leverage, small rocks spraying out with his effort. "A couple of months after you were infected." Skinner's fists clenched, and he let out a huff, the pressure on Krycek's trachea easing off. At that moment, Krycek was able to get his foot firmly planted on a large piece of rock, and he shoved against Skinner's chest with all of this strength. Skinner stumbled backward, grabbing onto Krycek's jacket in the processing and pulling him back with him. Their balance was thrown off and they both fell to the ground, wrestling for power. At that moment a helicopter appeared from behind the rock wall, a drab green, the air from the blades thrashing the plants and shrubs to and fro and whipping Scully's hair into her eyes. It was dark, but the spotlight shone down on them, creating a nearly cinematic illumination on the scene that was unfolding and preventing them to see beyond the source of the light. Scully had her weapon out the second Krycek had shoved Skinner, both hands wrapped around the gun's grip, her legs spread in the standard position as she hunched forward, her focus right on the two men struggling. Her head was pounding and out of the corner of her eyes she saw Mulder had assumed the same position, his attention alternating between the men on the ground and the chopper in the air above. "I can't get a clear shot," Scully called out to Mulder, her eyes never leaving the two men on the ground. "Neither can I," Mulder yelled back. The men rolled toward the rock's edge and they held their breath, letting it out slowly as they rolled back away. With the sound of the helicopter and the spotlight hitting her eyes adding to the throbbing cranial ache, Scully closed her eyes and shook her head, hoping to clear her blurring vision. When that didn't work, she let her arms drop down to her sides, still clutching her gun, and rubbed her eyes with the free hand. "Scully?" Mulder called out to her with concern. Krycek landed a solid punch into the side of Skinner's jaw, and illuminated by the spotlight, the two moved toward the steep side of the ledge once more. The helicopter had no place to set down so it circled, attempting to keep the spotlight on them but their movement making the tracking difficult. Hovering above, the volume of the sound changed according to its position in the air. Scully heard a hum growing louder in her ears as the sounds of the helicopter, the men struggling and Mulder shouting her name grew fainter and fainter. Her vision became a field of fuzzy white, the bouncing spotlight fading out of view, and she stumbled to her right in an attempt to compensate for the wave of dizziness that disoriented her. All at once she was wrapped up into two strong arms, the comfort and warmth of Mulder washing over her like security blanket and she buried her face under his chin. The humming began to fade and the sounds of the helicopter and the chaos grew stronger again, accompanied by the soft whispers of nonsensical words and 'shhh' coming from Mulder's lips. She turned her head, and illuminated in the spotlight she saw Skinner straddling Krycek's hips, pounding his fist into his face as Krycek tried to hold him off with his one good arm. For all of her anger, she knew that violence was not the solution. Father Schroeder had mentioned that there was a connection between all things, and she knew that answering violence with violence would only perpetuate that violence. Krycek had confessed to reprehensible crimes, but it was not their right to take his life from him. His life was in God's hands. "Mulder," she said with alarm, looking up at him. Mulder was watching the scene, a look of helplessness on his face. "Mulder, he's killing him." Mulder looked down into her face with an expression that said, 'I know, but I'm not letting you go' and she met his look with large pleading eyes. Do something. "Mulder. Please." He drew in a shaky breath and ran a finger down her cheek, nodding. He remembered what Andy had said about the importance of life - all life, and each individual soul, and he understood why she wanted him to intervene. Helping her to her feet, he let go of her when he could see that she was able to stand on her own. 'Are you okay?' he asked with his eyes, and when she nodded he carefully moved toward the two men near the edge of the ledge. "Sir!" he yelled, receiving no response. Krycek was twisting underneath Skinner, his hand clamped around Skinner's throat as Skinner pushed his face into the rock with one arm, the other trying to pry Krycek's fingers off of his neck. Mulder moved a little closer, illuminated by the spotlight and entering Skinner's direct line of vision. "SIR!" he yelled again, the wind from the chopper blades whipping the loose material of his T-shirt around his body. He looked up at the helicopter, almost expecting to see a rifle trained on him, but all he could see was the glare of the spotlight. Skinner saw Mulder out of the corner of his eye, and with his teeth clenched, yelled, "Mulder, help me!" "NO SIR!" Mulder yelled back. "Not like this! You have to stop!" Scully appeared in the light next to him, her arms outstretched with her palms flat out in the universal body language to stop. "SIR!" she yelled, her hair thrashing around in the wind. "Let it go!" Skinner glanced up at the both of them, and in that one second recognized it as one of the life-altering moments of his life. Out of anger he was about to kill a man with his bare hands. He could claim self-defense, but he realized that his desire to kill had nothing to do with self-preservation and everything to do with hate. His years in Nam, barely old enough to vote, taught him about hate, and he'd lived the rest of his life in the shadow of his actions. He had done things since then that he was not proud of, but he would not add this to his burden. Skinner removed his hand from Krycek's face and used both hands to wrench the fingers away from his neck. Krycek let go, and for the briefest instant the men saw into each other's eyes, both breathing heavily. Then Skinner moved to get off of him and Krycek twisted, sliding his leg underneath Skinner's leg and dropping him to the ground. He rolled over on top of him, and Skinner grabbed his shoulders to hold him off. He shoved, and Krycek rolled over the top of him, grabbing him around the neck. Scully gasped as they came right up to the rock's edge. In one of those unforgettable moments in life that seem to move in slow motion, both she and Mulder moved forward, too slow and too late to stop the two men from rolling over the steep side of the ledge into the canyon far below. XxXxXxXxX End Chapter Thirteen Himself as in all beings, And all beings in himself, Sees he whose self is disciplined in discipline, Who sees the same in all things. Who sees Me in all, And sees all in Me, For him I am not lost, And he is not lost for me. Whoso reveres me as abiding in all things, adopting the belief in oneness, though abiding in any possible condition, that disciplined man abides in Me. - Bhagavad Gita [vi. 29-31] XxXxXxXxX Chapter Fourteen "NNNOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!" Scully's anguished wail echoed through the canyon as she knelt at the rock's edge, her chest heaving as she peered into the darkness below. Mulder was right beside her, squinting to try to see farther or better than the moonlight and his limited, unassisted eyesight would allow. The helicopter was pulling back, its spotlight scanning the incline and the bottom of the canyon. "It's too far, Mulder," she said mournfully, her eyes still intent on the ground below, hoping for a miracle. "There's no way..." "We don't know that," he said firmly, his voice intense. The farther the spotlight traveled down the incline, the stronger her feeling of dread became. The angle was wrong; they couldn't be that far out into the canyon. Skinner and Krycek would have had to jump off of the ledge at a full run to even attempt to land that far away. Scully closed her eyes and turned away, her back hunched and her shoulders sagging forward. The sound of the helicopter marked the passing of time, each second excruciating in its inability to bring the men back. Mulder was still scanning the ground below, and she turned to look at him, her eyes weary. She watched him a moment, knowing he was clinging to his hope that they may have survived the fall. "Mulder," she said in a low, defeated voice. He didn't reply, and she swallowed thickly. "Mulder," she said again, a bit louder. "No, Scully. No." He shook his head. "I don't believe it. I don't." He wouldn't look at her, or let his eyes leave the spotlight. She drew in a deep breath, her entire upper body heaving as she did so. Then she exhaled slowly, placing a hand on Mulder's shoulder as she watched his face in the pale moonlight. He bit his lip, tracking the spotlight across the floor of the canyon. She turned away, tears forming in her eyes, unable to bear the look on Mulder's face any longer. "Scully," he said a moment later, his voice urgent. She turned back. He was leaning farther over the ledge, his face expectant. "Scully, look." With both hope and dread she turned and looked back down into the canyon, seeing the spotlight illuminate the figures of the two men in the clearing far below. They were lying on their backs, about four feet apart. It was too far to see if they were breathing, but their limbs didn't appear to be set in any unusual angles. It was impossible that they could have fallen that far and survived. And then, Krycek moved. Her mouth fell open as she watched Krycek look up at the helicopter, then stand on his feet. He seemed a little stiff and perhaps disoriented. He glanced down at Skinner, wiped his hand over his mouth, and stumbled off into the darkness. "That's not poss..." Scully said with disbelief, stopping mid- sentence when Skinner lifted his head, the light shining off of his bald spot like a beacon in the night. Mulder's laugh was pure joy, and her own face showed her surprise and then her delight as she watched the assistant director sit up. He brushed himself off and shielded his eyes, trying to spot them on the ledge. Then he turned and looked up at the helicopter, rising to his feet as the chopper slowly landed in the clearing. They saw him move toward the helicopter and climb inside, and after a few moments it lifted from the ground, rising up toward the ledge. There was no room for the helicopter to land, but it came close, hovering just above them with the side door open. Both standing, they could see the pilot, a Native American male wearing a uniform that indicated he was a park ranger. Skinner was belted into the passenger side adjusting the way his glasses fit behind his ears. "This is Joe Littlefoot," Skinner yelled at them through the open door, his voice just audible above the sound of the chopper's blades. "He heard about the closure of the canyon and thought he'd offer his services." "Are you alright?" Scully yelled back. "All things considered, I feel fine!" he bellowed, and Mulder turned and looked at Scully with a wide grin on his face. "Joe's offered to take me to the hospital to get checked out." "I want to come with you!" Scully replied. Skinner shook his head. "I'll be alright. I need you to locate Krycek before he gets too much of a lead." Mulder raised his hand to bid them off, and Joe Littlefoot nodded at them. Then the helicopter lifted, turning back in the direction it originally came from. As the sound grew fainter, they realized that they could hear another helicopter in the opposite direction. There were, in fact, two helicopters. Joe Littlefoot's, and the C.D.C.'s chopper still hovering near the mouth of the canyon. The chance was pretty good that the agents' presence in the canyon was now known, if it hadn't been previously. Mulder held Scully's gaze, and without saying a word they agreed to move on in search of Krycek. XxXxXxXxX Enchantment Resort His thick hands clenched in fists at his sides, Strughold glowered at the men who nervously worked on the electronic monitoring equipment. He had seen this project through every development since the very beginning, and it was clear to him that it was all falling apart under his colleague's tutelage. They had raw materials frozen from before - samples of blood and tissue - but a live specimen was more than difficult to secure. Not the human test subject - they were easy to find, but there hadn't been any 'contact' with the extraterrestrial race since before the unfortunate incident at El Rico. He questioned whether or not there was an actual extraterrestrial biological entity in that canyon. This time, he had not been the one with whom contact was made, and this made him suspicious. He questioned his colleague's motives. Conrad Strughold was a man who had seen more than most in his lifetime. He'd survived the war of his youth. He missed his country and, despite familial difficulties, he had made a good life for himself in the United States and later in Tunis. He had escaped the Nuremburg trials so many of his peers had to face and survived the recent horrors of the rebels who came to destroy the project and the rest of the consortium. Now the only one left besides him was Spender. The smoker was a mere shell of the man he once was - physically ill and delusional. He'd never trusted Spender. Watching him now, cool behind his cloud of smoke and staring out the window into the canyon, Strughold knew that there was no future to be made with this man. This man wanted to play games with men like Alex Krycek and Fox Mulder. This man was not interested in the science. The young men that Strughold had brought into the project himself were the new generation, though. They had a vested interest in Eugenics and racial purity. They understood their heritage, the importance of their role and that the future was theirs to fight for. They would do it for him. These are the men on whom he could lay his hopes and his legacy. The new reich. Strughold watched as Spender turned to check the laptop screen on the table near the window, lighting another cigarette. Again and again with Agents Mulder and Scully. And Agent Mulder - he had been right under their noses all of this time. Bill Mulder's snot-nosed kid, the perfect hybrid. The most talented geneticists in the world would have been able to collect years of research from him. Mulder could have communicated with the colonists, read their thoughts and learned their true intentions. But Spender was not interested in the science. He wanted to BE Fox Mulder. He had the most valuable part of Mulder cut out, placing it inside of his own head. It had been for nothing, and he had rendered Mulder useless to the project as well. Strughold was finished with Mulder and Scully, finished with Krycek and Spender and their silly games. Turning away from Spender, he walked out of the room. He would continue his project elsewhere - there was nothing for him here. XxXxXxXxX Boynton Canyon As they came nearer to the entrance of the canyon, Mulder and Scully moved more cautiously, aware that the area was under intense scrutiny. Ahead of them the helicopter was hovering over the trail that they had just left, the one that led into the back of the canyon. The agents had turned and were now headed toward the knoll and the unusual rock formations just inside the canyon's mouth. They passed by the twisted juniper trees while above them, the stars were bright against the clear, black sky. Mulder paused just at the base of the knoll. He listened intently for the sounds of anyone nearby, hearing only the sound of Scully's breathing and the helicopter in the distance. "Mulder?" Scully said softly, leaning in close. "I'm fine, Scully. I want to try to pick up on Krycek's location." "Do you think he's still in the canyon?" "I don't know." She let out a sigh, her eyes turning to look at the strange rock formations outlined against the stars above them as they continued up the knoll. She thought that one of the formations looked a lot like a coffee pot. Mulder stopped again at the top of the knoll, feeling the energy of the vortex at its most powerful. This had to be the center. Closing his eyes he drew in a deep breath, letting it out slowly and almost immediately he could hear Scully's thoughts, pondering coffee pots and the shapes of the rock formations just ahead of them. He forced himself past her, without trying to figure out her logic, searching for what could almost be described as distorted white noise, for the sound of another clear thought. It was like trying to tune a radio manually - finding a clear signal required finesse. Suddenly, there was a cacophony of voices in his head and then the feel of hard gun metal in his back. He opened his eyes, seeing Scully standing rigid beside him, her hands raised. "We've got 'em," someone was saying behind him. Whether it was to others or into some kind of communication device, he wasn't sure. When the man said, "no, just the two of them, on the knoll," and then "yes, sir," in response to silence, he knew it was the latter. "Federal agents," Scully declared over her shoulder in her firmest voice. They were searched and relieved of their weapons and told they could drop their arms. As they turned to look at their captors, they saw three men dressed in full decontamination suits and bearing semi- automatic rifles. "Nobody told me this was a costume party," Mulder said without inflection. Scully's eyes met his, and they shared a look. "What grounds are you holding us on?" Scully asked the men sharply. "Exposure to a suspected contagion," was the reply. They both knew that was a load of shit, just as they knew that these men weren't from the C.D.C. "What contagion?" Scully asked, receiving no further reply. She glanced at Mulder again, and the group was joined by half a dozen more men in contamination suits. The helicopter came shortly thereafter, the red rock formations casting twisted coffee pot shaped shadows over them as the black chopper's spotlight circled behind and around to keep the scene illuminated. One of the men stumbled and bent over at the waist, much like Krycek had done earlier. The man on his right lowered his rifle and leaned down to look into the distraught man's face. Another turned toward them. "What's wrong with him?" The man who was ill shook his head, drawing in deep breaths. "I don't know. It was just a headache, but it keeps getting worse. I'm sweating like a horse, and I think I'm gonna throw up." "It's the same thing that happened to the others back at the entrance. Get him out of here!" Came an authoritative voice from the dark as two of the men in decontamination suites helped the man climb down the side of the knoll. "Agent Mulder." Both agents turned to see C.G.B. Spender approach. He wasn't wearing a decontamination suit, and there was a lit Morley positioned between his lips. The armed men still standing in front of them moved to the side, so that Mulder and Scully were effectively boxed in between the side of the knoll, the sentries and Spender. Agent Scully," Spender added with a lilt, "A pleasure to see you again." "What's going on here?" Scully nearly barked at him as Mulder shifted his weight from one to foot to the other, his mouth pressed into a thin line. The smoker smiled at her, drawing on his cigarette as his eyes narrowed. "You're looking well." "I wish I could say the same," Scully responded. "You look like hell." Mulder crossed his arms in front of him. "Cut the crap, and tell us what you want this time." Spender paused. "You don't know?" "Know what?" Mulder said, "That we're being held at gunpoint for exposure to a SUSPECTED contagion, by a group of men masquerading as the C.D.C., while YOU'RE walking around unhindered and unprotected?" There was another pause as the smoker blew out a breath of smoke and drew in another. "What brings you to Arizona, Fox?" Spender asked, his voice conversational, with a hint of paternal affection. "I had a craving for real guacamole. You?" Spender dropped his cigarette to the ground and rubbed it out with the toe of his shoe. He immediately lit another. "I heard there was an alien in this canyon." He blew out a breath. "Have you seen it?" "She did," a voice answered from just behind him. Krycek's voice. He nodded toward Scully, and her lips parted in surprise as the smoker turned to face Krycek. She glanced at Mulder, who was intently watching Krycek. Spender took in Krycek's somewhat dusty and disheveled countenance. "Nice of you to join us, Alex." "I don't know where you got that idea, Krycek, but you're mistaken," Scully said. Krycek stepped forward, entering their loose semi-circle. "It was a shapeshifter. She saw it in the back of the canyon." Scully's eyes grew wider at the assumption. Was that what she'd seen impersonating Mulder years ago? A shapeshifter? The question was, a shapeshifting WHAT? "She saw a man," Mulder replied, glaring at Krycek. With Krycek's obvious betrayal, he expected his carefully-honed ability would be outed as well, if it hadn't been already. The smoker studied Scully as he drew in a deep breath of smoke. "Where is it, Dana?" His voice was soft. Tender. Deadly. At the use of her given name, Mulder glared at Spender, his eyes dark and angry. He made it clear he didn't like the familiarity that the smoker showed with her. Spender exhaled smoke through his nose and smiled, knowing that he'd struck a nerve. "I saw a man. A priest," Scully said firmly. "Not alien." "She said she saw Father Ulrich Schroeder," Krycek added. The smoker took another drag from his cigarette. "Is that right? And where was Agent Mulder while this was taking place?" "He wasn't there," Scully said firmly, glaring at Krycek in warning. "So Agent Mulder hasn't been exposed, then. He can go. We need only detain Agent Scully," Spender said casually. Mulder stepped closer to him. "Listen, you son of a bitch -" He was stopped by the insistence, once again, of gun metal. A thickly accented voice came from out of nowhere, saying, "Let the evil-doer go on doing evil and the filthy-minded wallow in his filth, but let the good man persevere in his goodness and the dedicated man be true to his dedication." Mulder's lips parted in surprise, and the smoker and Krycek both looked up to see Father Ulrich Schroeder standing directly behind Mulder, his hands folded in front of him. Staring at the priest, Spender swallowed and drew in a breath, his cigarette poised between his thumb and forefinger at his side. Ulrich stepped up, standing next to Mulder. He looked up at the helicopter hovering overhead, then met Mulder's gaze, offering him a knowing smile. Mulder stared at him in understanding, and closed his eyes, focusing on the mental voices around him. He could pick up more than one, coming in succession and sometimes overlapping, but each a distinct voice. Spender was afraid. He had not counted on a shapeshifter. He did not possess the ability to communicate with it telepathically, and he longed for that ability. He was not aware that Mulder possessed that ability. "Who are you?" Spender asked Father Schroeder, his tone no longer conversational. "I am the Alpha and the Omega, the first and the last, the beginning and the end," Ulrich answered calmly. Mulder heard Ulrich's response in his head and in his ears. Krycek glanced to the side at Spender, gauging his response to Ulrich's presence by the growing cylinder of ash at the end of his cigarette. In his own hand he held a cylinder of steel. The sharp point was still encased in the metal, but when deployed it resembled an ice pick. Mulder read his intention, and inside his head he screamed, "No!" Opening his eyes, he became caught up in Ulrich's peaceful gaze. Ulrich knew as well. "Who sent you?" Spender demanded in the same tone as before. Ulrich's gaze shifted from Mulder to Scully, although his expression remained the same. "I am here to deliver a message." "What message?" the smoker commanded. Ulrich took several steps toward the smoker, speaking softly while holding him in his serene gaze. "Go your way to the end and rest, and you shall arise to your destiny at the end of the age." Spender raised his hand and brought the cigarette to his lips, inhaling deeply. His hand shook. "Is that all?" Ulrich did not reply. He turned and looked once more at Scully, then Mulder. "Remember, I tell you the truth, whoever hears my word and believes him who sent me has eternal life and will not be condemned; he has crossed over from death to life." Krycek approached him from behind, the pick-like instrument deployed in his palm, poised for striking. With one swift motion he buried the sharp end into the back of Ulrich's neck, dropping the weapon to the ground and stumbling backward, away from the body. They all waited for the bubbling green ooze and toxic fumes to seep out of Ulrich's wound. Instead, a ray of light extended out from the opening in the back of Father Schroeder's neck, and his body began to radiate, outlining him with a faint glow that gradually grew brighter and brighter. A faint, high-pitched hum could be heard, mounting in volume as the light became brighter. Krycek rose to his feet. With darkened eyes he deemed that this was not what it appeared to be, but much, much worse. Out of self- preservation he ran off into the night, as far as he could get from the canyon and Ulrich's glow. Scully reached over and grabbed Mulder's hand out of empathy, feeling a jolt of energy between them like before, reaching up her arm and into her torso. This time she did not let go. As before, the energy passed through her into him, and through him back to her, both of them trying to control their physical reactions to the sensations. Like before, as it spread through their bodies it became a constant throbbing sensation, its intensity increasing, the tempo building. The light around Father Schroeder grew brighter, and the smoker's eyes belied his horror. "Shoot! Shoot!" he screamed at the armed men watching with open mouths. Several of the men raised their rifles and fired. Light burst out of the places where the bullets struck the priest's torso, the sound rising in pitch and volume, the light's intensity growing brighter and brighter as the rays expanded. Light was now radiating out of his eye sockets and the ends of his fingers. Mulder's eyes were closed, and in the midst of the chaos Scully heard him say, clear as a bell inside of her head, "Don't let go." "I won't," she thought in response, squeezing his hand tighter. His squeeze in response told her that he'd heard her. In the air above them, the helicopter's engine sputtered, and the spotlight shot up into the clear desert sky as the chopper turned forty-five degrees to the side. Spender saw the helicopter pilot was losing control, and that the bullets he'd ordered into Father Schroeder had no effect. He knew his only chance at salvation was to retreat, and yelled to the armed men, "Get the hell out of here!" He took two steps backward, then turned and disappeared down the side of the knoll, followed by three of the men. Four men stayed behind on the knoll, watching the scene before them as if in a trance. Father Schroeder's wounds were growing larger, the light expanding and taking up more of his physical being while still glowing brighter. His body began to break apart, light shooting out of him in all directions, illuminating the night sky. "Don’t look at him, Scully!" Mulder said inside of her head, and she shut her eyes tightly, sucking in a deep gasp of air. The sound in the canyon was deafening – the failing helicopter and the high, screaming wail coming off of Father Schroeder. Inside Scully's head, Mulder's voice was soothing, repeating over and over, "It's going to be alright; just hang on, it's going to be alright." The helicopter skirted to the right, going into a tailspin. It was a horrifying sound. The wind from the chopper's blades was whipping their hair and clothing against their bodies, and the sound was so loud it seemed that the helicopter would come down right on top of them. Mulder and Scully did not move, nor did they open their eyes. They continued holding on to each other, listening to each others' mental voices of comfort while the sounds of the world coming to an end screamed all around them. The armed men still standing on the knoll were shielding their eyes with their hands, still watching as the light emanating from Father Schroeder become so bright, so white that it was blinding. The earth underneath their feet moved as the helicopter hit the ground a few hundred yards away and exploded into a fireball that rolled up into the nighttime sky, the heat from the fuel-burning fire blasting against Mulder's and Scully's backs. In front of them, Father Schroeder expanded in a burst of white brilliance that extended into the stars. And then he was gone. XxXxXxXxX Chapter Fifteen The only sound in the dark canyon was the hiss and pop of the fire coming off of the chopper's wreckage. Mulder opened his eyes, and blinking a moment, turned his head to look at Scully. Her eyelashed fluttered as she met his gaze with an expression of bewilderment. They were all alone on top of the knoll and except for the fire's glow from the wreckage, the canyon was shrouded in darkness. Their hands were still joined, and they slowly let go, closing their eyes as the residual sensations of release washed over them. As their breathing returned to normal, they opened their eyes and looked at each other again. Whatever had just happened, they'd survived it. Mulder turned to survey the wreckage of the helicopter crash behind them. From the mangled steel, the heat of the burning fuel and the all-encompassing fire, he knew that there were no survivors. Just below the knoll he saw the bodies of four of the armed gunmen lying prone on the ground. Scully had already started down the hill, and she reached the men before he did. The glow from the burning chopper was enough to see that the men appeared to be thrown off of the knoll, their arms outstretched as if they'd been pinned to the ground. Although they were still incased in their decontamination suits, each one of the armed men was left with two black, smoking holes where his eyes had once been. Scully let out a few short breaths and looked up at Mulder. There were no words to express her emotions at that particular moment. XxXxXxXxX Enchantment Resort "We won't know for certain until we can compare it against the records back in D.C." Scully was saying into the telephone as Mulder emerged from the bathroom engulfed in a cloud of steam. She was wearing purple silk pajamas, her toes curling into the thick pile carpeting as she twisted the phone cord around her fingers. "Did you tell them how far you fell?" Listening to her side of the conversation, Mulder rubbed a towel over his head. Another towel was wrapped around his waist, and his hair stuck up on end. "Yes, we've taken a room at the resort." She looked up at Mulder and smiled as he walked past her. "Thank you, sir." She hung up the phone and turned to face Mulder, who was crouched down in the far corner poking at the fire he'd built earlier, while she had been showering. "Based on the distance he fell, the hospital wants to keep Skinner under observation the rest of the night. He's got a dislocated shoulder, but everything else appears to be fine." "Bumbles bounce," Mulder replied, throwing another piece of wood onto the fire. As an involuntary groan escaped, she smiled in response and sat down on the bed. Mulder turned and looked at her, but didn't say anything. He only offered a gentle grin. "It'll be light in just a couple of hours, you know," she said softly, watching him turn around and poke at the fire once more. He stood, dusting off his hands. "I know. It's not even cold, but I like the atmosphere." He stood and crossed the room, switching off the light and coming around to the other side of the bed. She pulled back the comforter and slid between the sheets, and he dropped the towel from his waist, doing the same. "I've come to a conclusion, Mulder," she said quietly as he scooted up behind her, spooning against her body underneath the covers. He propped his head up on his hand. "What's that?" "That I don't care how much a person can accomplish if a body didn't have to sleep. I need it for my sanity. We should have driven back to Flagstaff or Phoenix for a room." "And miss the opportunity to stay at a world-class resort on the Bureau's nickel?" He smiled and reached out to run the back of his index finger down the curve of her cheek, his voice rough and intimate. "Besides, YOUR sanity has never been in question, Scully." She turned her face and looked at him, her eyes shining at his implication. "It may be when I try to come up with a rational explanation for whatever the hell it was I saw out there tonight." Mulder thought a moment. "I don't know that there is a rational explanation, or one that can be proved, scientifically or otherwise." "We were in the direct line of fire when Father Schroeder was shot, Mulder. Why didn't either of us get hit?" He was still stroking her cheek with his finger, his eyes glassing over as he considered her question. "I don't know," he replied, shaking his head slightly, turning his focus back to her. She sighed and he scooted closer, cupping her face in his palm. "Let me take your mind off of everything for a while. Just relax and let go." Scully closed her eyes in assent, and Mulder slid his hand under the covers, gently glancing over her front, down her arms and over her wrists, where his fingertips stroked the skin gently before moving back up her arms again. She felt herself loosening, softening to the sensations he created with his gentle touch and the press of his warm body against hers. Her breathing slowed and her mind traveled, not lighting on any subject but drifting placidly. Finally. "That's nice," she murmured, her eyes still closed. "Mmmmmmm..." he hummed, one hand reaching down underneath the hem of her pajama top to stroke the soft skin on her abdomen. "Since neither of us needs the sleep..." he drawled, letting his voice and his wandering hand finish the thought for him. Her lips curled up in a smile, but her eyes remained shut. "Alright with me," she said in a low, husky voice, then reached up and curled her fingers around his face, pulling him down for a deep kiss. "Let me drive," she whispered against his lips as they pulled apart, her eyes sparkling in the darkness. "Alright with me," he echoed. He shifted his weight and turned onto his back with his head resting on a starched beige pillow. She crawled on top of him, straddling his hips and pulling her pajama top over her head in one fluid movement. Mulder slid his hands up her back and around in front, caressing her breasts and running his thumbs over the rigid nipples. She let out a soft breath, and his hands rose up to cradle her face. "I love it when you drive," he growled, pulling her down toward him for another breathtaking kiss. XxXxXxXxX They lay on their backs side by side, arms and legs extended, the moonlight streaming across their bare skin. He rolled over onto his side, then parting her thighs with his knee, crawled over her and with a self-satisfied smile, settled himself into the cradle created there. "Again?" she asked with a glint in her eyes, letting out a soft grunt as his body sank down against hers. "Mmmm..." was all that she heard as he pressed his lips underneath her jawbone. She decided it was more a vibration than a sound, closing her eyes and lifting her chin to give him better access to the soft skin of her throat as her hands came up to cup his bare shoulder blades. "How does anybody sleep around here?" Scully asked, blinking up at the ceiling. "Maybe you grow accustomed to it. Think of all the things you could accomplish." "It's not normal." "It has its advantages." She lowered her chin to look at him, and he raised his head to offer her a wide, lecherous grin. "I can see that. You're enjoying this, aren't you?" she stated. "Vortexes to keep you awake all night, a four-star resort hotel room, room service..." He moved his hand over and entwined his fingers with hers above her head. "A beautiful woman in my bed...can't blame me for taking advantage of a situation when it presents itself," he said, the smile still curling on his lips as he lowered his face to her neck once again. She could tell from the way he was lightly grazing on her neck that he wasn't really intending to make love one more time. "I suppose not," she replied with a smile, closing her eyes. She was content with his attentions, even if they didn't lead anywhere. Content to just float for awhile. They were silent a few minutes, then Mulder lifted his head to ask, "Wanna watch TV?" "Anything good on?" she mumbled without opening her eyes, sorry that it had to end so soon. He reached over to the bedside table and grabbed the remote control. He tried powering the television on over his shoulder, but the screen was a menu of options, and he wasn't wearing his glasses. Squinting at the television, he could just make out option three as the number for viewing television programming, and he pushed the button on the remote, hitting two by mistake and getting the screen to review their room account instead. "Shit," he muttered, rolling off her to lay on his side, trying again and finally succeeding. "Infomercial, Infomercial, Burt Reynolds movie..." "What's on HBO?" she asked, still not opening her eyes. He was silent a moment, still flipping through the channels as small blips of noise and conversation marked his journey. Finally, Bruce Willis appeared. "Die Hard Two. Yippee ki-yay, motherfucker!" he quoted, settling back against the pillows with the remote resting on his bare stomach. She still didn't open her eyes. "Guy movie." He turned his head and gave her a stony stare, his mouth set in a grim line. Then he picked up the remote control and turned off the television with a pitiful sigh. After a moment, he reached over again, pulling out the drawer on the nightstand. "What are you doing?" she asked, opening her eyes and raising her head partway off of the pillow to look at him. "Looking for a deck of cards. Wanna play Go Fish?" He pulled a small booklet out of the drawer. "Not really." He made the grim face again, and laid back down, looking at the booklet. It was a schedule of timetables for America West Airlines. "Mulder?" she said in the way that people do when they want to preface a question or statement. "Yeah?" "Let's go home." Statement, not question, he noted, flipping through the booklet to the scheduled flights to Baltimore. "There's a direct flight to Baltimore out of Phoenix at around 9:30 a.m." She looked back at him, her eyebrow raised, and he grinned. Finally, something they could agree on. XxXxXxXxX Sky Harbor International Airport, Terminal Four Mulder took a sip from the too-hot café mocha and sucked in a breath of air to cool his mouth as he stepped around a passenger examining her airline ticket. Crossing from the Starbucks counter to the gate where Scully sat perusing the Sunday morning Arizona Republic, he noticed a dark-haired man in his middle to late thirties standing near the counter at the adjacent gate, watching Scully with wide eyes, his mouth hanging open. Smiling to himself over Scully's inattention to the admiration, Mulder handed her the non-fat cappuccino she'd ordered, and a small brown bag containing a non-fat apricot blueberry muffin, which she hadn't ordered. She looked up, met his gaze and his smile, accepting the bag with appreciation. She really did derive joy from the simplest things. Scully went back to perusing the paper, and Mulder took another sip of his mocha, smiling with the satisfaction of knowing her well enough to please her. Glancing up, he noticed that the lurker was still watching Scully, and when he realized that Mulder had noticed him, his mouth closed into a tight-lipped smile, his eyebrows falling as he shrugged. "Father Schroeder made the local paper," Scully commented quietly, pointing to a small blurb near the end of the A-section. Mulder looked back down at her and broke off a piece of her muffin, popping it into his mouth as he read over her shoulder. "I want to examine the body the church buried, Mulder." He nodded, finishing the article, which was only a small, follow-up blurb mentioning the burial and stating the official facts of the carjacking. He glanced up when his peripheral vision caught someone approaching them. It was Scully's admirer. Scully looked up just after he did, and her mouth dropped open, a look of surprise crossing her face. "Mike?" she said, and Mulder realized that she actually knew the man. "Hi Agent Scully," Mike said, offering her a smile. "Is this your missing partner?" He raised his hand briefly toward Mulder. She placed a hand on Mulder's forearm and smiled. "Not missing anymore. Mulder, this is Mike Moreno. Um..." she reached up and rubbed a finger over her nose, presumably scratching an itch, before continuing, "Mike is the manager of the Desert Rose Motel in Trona. He took me to the mine to look for you after I'd spotted the abandoned tanker trucks." Mulder looked at Mike, and they nodded their heads at each other. Mulder stepped closer to Scully, his hip brushing against her shoulder. "So what brings you to Phoenix, Mike?" she asked pleasantly. He shifted his weight from foot to foot. "Oh, just a layover. We're on our way to Cabo." "We?" Scully asked. Mike smiled sheepishly. "Oh, Mindy...uh, my wife. We've just come from Vegas. We flew in from L.A. yesterday and decided to get married, so we stayed up all night so we could get the early flight out to Cabo." He nodded at the both of them. "You know, honeymoon." "Vegas?" Mulder turned his face to look at Scully with a hopeful look in his eyes, his eyebrows raised and a playful smile on his lips. She cocked an eyebrow at him that said, 'no way', then offered Mike a warm smile. "Congratulations. So where is your new wife?" "She's in the ladies room, I don't know, fixing her makeup or something." Mike shifted again, crossing his arms in front of him. "So I'm glad I ran into you, Agent Scully. I found out a couple of days after you left Trona that the government really does own that land where we found those trucks. They bought the mine and everything about three months ago." Mulder raised his head, his eyes focusing intently on Mike. "Are you sure?" Mike shifted nervously under the scrutiny and nodded back. "Yeah, Mindy's dad works for the Naval Weapons Center. He said they've been doing some testing out there but they had to stop." "What kind of testing?" "He doesn't know; it's beyond his security clearance. I only found out about it because there was an accident when they were working on the mine. They contracted an outside company to seal off the entrance to the mine, you know, so that nobody could get hurt inside. But they used too much dynamite or something and the entire mountain caved in. A couple of the workers got trapped inside and died. It was terrible - the story even made the Los Angeles Times. There hasn't been anybody out there since the accident." Mulder nodded and looked at Scully. He'd told her about the upper entrance to the mine that the men in lab coats had accessed by a retractable ladder, and they both knew whatever had been left behind wasn't meant to be found. Just as likely, the people who were buried inside the mine were already dead before the accident. One more cover-up to be added to the list. Mulder wondered how Smokey and his men would cover up the deaths of those four victims from the knoll. Maybe they'd just doused them with gasoline, lit the match and listed them as casualties of the helicopter crash. A woman with long frizzy blonde hair walked up to them, and Mike's posture straightened. "What's going on?" she asked somewhat suspiciously. "Hey, Honey," Mike said, putting an arm around her. "Remember I told you about the FBI agent I took out to the mine?" She was wearing enough makeup for them to be able to see it, and she wrapped her arms around Mike's waist, looking up at Mulder. "Hi," she said, smiling flirtatiously. "Hi. Uh, Agent Mulder," he replied in response, offering his hand with a slight grin. It was obvious that Mike had neglected to tell his new bride that the FBI agent he'd escorted out to the mine was a woman, and he decided not to remedy that oversight. "Agent Scully," Scully added. Mindy looked down at her, her smile fading a little, and shook Scully's offered hand. With mirth, Scully glanced up at Mulder just as the flight to Cabo San Lucas was being called over the loudspeaker. "That's us," Mindy said, looking pointedly at Mike. The look and her tone was enough for them to see who was in charge of that relationship. "Yeah, okay," Mike replied. "Agent Mulder, Agent Scully," he nodded to each of them, careful not to linger too long on Scully's face. "Nice to see you again." "You too, Mike," Scully replied, offering Mindy another smile as the two of them headed for their gate. Mulder glanced down at his partner with amusement, and she met his gaze. Then she drew in a deep breath, her demeanor changing. "Los Angeles Times Online," Mulder said, reaching down and picking up her laptop case. "That's exactly what I was thinking," she replied, accepting the case from his hand, pulling out the computer and powering up the cellular modem. After a few minutes she was connected and searching the Los Angeles Times database for the article about the Trona mine accident. She found it, and when it came up on the screen, Mulder crouched down next to her, both of them scanning the paragraphs until they found what they had been looking for. "There it is," Mulder said, pointing to the exact line. "Yes, it is." Scully answered flatly. "Strughold Mining Company was contracted to seal the mine." Mulder straightened, looking down at her as she bit the inside of her cheek. "Strughold is the one we need to go after, Scully. If Krycek is to be believed, he's the one behind all of it." She let out a huff. "After all that we've been through with Krycek, his believability is worn thin." Mulder sat down in the seat next to her, stretching his legs out in front of him. "Mulder, if Krycek has told anyone about your ability..." Her eyes were wide with concern when he met her gaze, and he let out a soft sigh. "I don't think he will, Scully." "He could use it against you." "I could use it against him." She looked down, and he reached over and took her hand in his, pulling it over so that their clasped hands rested on top of his thigh. "The project is finished, that much I'm sure of. There are still dangerous people out there – there always will be. But it's our job, Scully, to use whatever resources we have available to us to stop those people from hurting innocent victims and taking more lives." Scully looked up at him and let out a slow breath. "No more running off in the middle of the night without telling me, Mulder." She squeezed his hand tightly for emphasis. "I want to be included, no matter what." "No matter what," he promised, his eyes warm and his expression serious. The announcement for their flight was called over the loudspeaker, and Mulder stood, pulling Scully up with him. "Let's go home, Scully." XxXxXxXxX Epilogue Six months later Scully's autopsy report on Father Ulrich Schroeder lay open on his desk, on the top of his current caseload pile. Directly underneath were previous X Files they had investigated; Kevin Kryder, Dara Kernof. Harold Spuller. He was looking for the one thing that would offer the perfect explanation for what they experienced in that canyon in Sedona months ago. The autopsy report was conclusive, but the implications of that report could not be answered by science. Father Ulrich Schroeder was dead, had been read his last rites and buried in the cold District of Columbia ground. A small unmarked package inside of a padded shipper envelope arrived for Scully in the afternoon mail drop, and Mulder considered it carefully, turning it over in his hands as he sat at his desk, alone in the basement. Scully wasn't there to open it, she had taken the day off - too much to do, she'd said. He preferred the distraction of work, and figured he'd end up being a nervous annoyance to her, anyway - although his nervous energy manifested itself in other ways. The ceiling was riddled with newly sharpened pencils and the waste can was overflowing with freshly wadded up balls of paper. Along with the package for Scully there was a large envelope from the German Consulate, which he had opened immediately. The contents from inside were also strewn across his desk. There was a document called a Geburtsurkunde, which he deduced was a birth certificate; a Meldeschein, a census document from the City of Munich, and a few other documents which he couldn't pronounce, along with a receipt for the retrieval and photocopying charge imposed by the consulate. He looked the documents over once more, then he picked up the telephone and dialed Scully at her mother's house. Leaning back in his chair, he placed his feet up on the desk as the phone rang through. "Hey Scully, how's it going? You need my help?" he asked when he heard her voice answer, slightly out of breath, on the other side of the line. She let out a soft sigh. "No, unless you want to come over and keep my brothers occupied. They've been underfoot all day trying to be...helpful." Mulder rolled a pencil between his fingers, his foot wagging on top of the desk. "Trying or succeeding?" She let out a huff. "Charlie wants to move the gazebo across the yard. He thinks that we're going to need more chairs." "ARE we going to need more chairs?" "No. I've told him repeatedly that this is a small event but he's not listening. I'm beginning to rethink your Vegas idea." She paused a brief moment before adding with amusement, "How's your head, by the way?" "Almost back to normal now. What did they tell you?" She laughed what might better be described as a giggle if it weren't coming from Dana Scully. "I was there when they brought you home, remember? Other than confirming that you're a lousy drunk, they've said nothing specific." Her voice changed, taking on a softer tone. "Whatever happened, I'm glad you could all find some middle ground." "You're the middle ground, Scully. They love you. We've found something we could all agree on." He heard her draw in a deep breath through her nose and knew that tears were threatening. "And you? Did you get your millions of things done today?" She sniffed again, and sighed. "Only about six hundred thousand." "Want me to take your mind off of table assignments and party favors for a little while?" She could hear his smile in his voice as he spoke. "I've been tying Jordan almonds up inside of little lavender circles of netting until my fingers hurt, Mulder. And I don't even LIKE Jordan almonds. Any distraction is welcome at this point." Her voice changed from frustrated to interested with the change of subject. "You sound smug. What have you got?" He paused a moment for effect. "A package of documents from the German Consulate pertaining to one Father Ulrich Schroeder," he replied, even more smug than before. "Really?" He heard her exhale through her nose, and imagined her sitting up straighter in her seat. She probably had a good idea of what was in the package as she was the one who had requested the information from the consulate in the first place. He was willing to bet she wasn't prepared to hear the results, though. "It's all in German, but I assume that the 'Geburtsurkunde' is a birth certificate, right?" "Uh huh." "So, Ulrich Schroeder's birth mother's maiden name was Louisa Schroeder." She was silent a moment. "So, he used his mother's maiden name. When I petitioned the church for permission to exhume the body, Father Marquette indicated during our conversation that Father Schroeder had a special bond with his mother before she passed away. He probably felt that it would honor her memory to use her maiden name when he was ordained." Mulder was silent, and she knew he was setting her up for bigger information than the fact that Ulrich was using his mother's maiden name. "What?" She added, sensing the mounting drama through the phone line. "Mulder, you're not going to try to tell me that the body I examined wasn't..." "No! No, your results were conclusive. But there was something about his DNA that you weren't able to test, even if you'd known." Mulder replied. She paused. "Known what?" "Ulrich Schroeder's birth father is listed as one Conrad Strughold." "WHAT?" Scully nearly barked into the telephone, and he heard her say, "No, mom, I'm fine" over her shoulder. "Mulder," she said, her voice lowered, "Are you sure?" "Yep. Keep in mind that my German isn't as good as yours, but according to the heiratsker...heiratsur... "Heiratsurkunde?" "Yes. According to that, Louisa Schroeder married Conrad Strughold in Israel in early 1960 at the tender young age of nineteen." "Israel?" "Yes, but Ulrich was born in Munich in December of that year. I did a little checking...every marriage in Germany has to take place in a city hall in order to be considered official, unless it takes place in..." "Israel," Scully supplied. "This is the first solid information we've been able to collect on Strughold, Mulder." Her voice grew softer. "How can Father Schroeder be Strughold's son?" This was a subject bordering on sensitivity for Mulder, having questioned the role his own father had played in the original project. "We can't choose our relatives, Scully, but we can create a family of our own choosing." His implication was clear, and she waited a moment before replying. "Mulder, Ulrich was murdered by a man hired by the remaining members of the consortium. If Strughold IS his father..." "As far as the official investigation goes, it doesn’t change anything, Scully. The case is closed. We have no physical evidence linking Antonio Cardinale to the consortium, whether Strughold was involved or not." The line was silent as Scully thought about what he said. "Maybe the son was trying to make right the sins of the father." She paused again, and it was Mulder's turn to be silent. He could relate to Ulrich's situation. "We'll find Strughold, Scully. Someday, somehow." His voice was resolute. "Justice will be served and he will pay for his crimes." She let out a sigh, only too familiar with dead ends and cold leads. "So what else have you got on Father Schroeder?" "School records, it looks like." There was a knock at his office door, and he looked up to see Skinner standing in the doorway. "Hey Scully, before I forget, there's another package here for you," he told her as he waved Skinner inside, sitting up in his chair and taking his feet off of the desk. "There is?" her voice indicated her surprise. "Crate and Barrel or Pottery Barn?" she asked happily, transforming into a girl on Christmas morning. Or simply a girl. He grinned, turning the package over again. "Neither. And it's addressed to you, not the both of us." "Oh. Well, who's it from?" "I don't know. There's no return address. It's postmarked Sedona." He heard a soft crack, like the sound of teeth coming down on a candy-coated almond. "Open it," she said, audibly chewing on something. "Are you sure?" "Yes. But I'm warning you, if it's proof of another E.B.E..." "I know, I know. I have a solid appointment at one o'clock tomorrow afternoon and for two weeks after that and nothing is going to stop me from keeping it." He heard a voice speaking in the background on her end and she sighed into the phone. "Mulder, I've gotta go. Bill has started cleaning out Mom's refrigerator. He says he wants to phone the bakery and tell them to have the cake ready tonight for him and Tara to pick up so we have one less thing to worry about tomorrow morning." Mulder laughed. "Alright, I'll be there in time for the rehearsal, ok?" There was a crashing sound in the background, and Scully muttered, "Oh shit. Make sure you're on time, Father McCue has to be back at the church by 8:30." He could hear her yelling, "Bill!" as she hung up the phone. Mulder replaced the receiver in the phone's cradle with a laugh. He looked up at Skinner, who was standing in front of his desk, listening to his side of the conversation with a look of commiseration, having been there before. "Is everything alright?" Skinner asked with mild concern. "She's crazed." He noticed that Skinner carried his satchel. "Are you on your way out?" Skinner shifted his weight, standing in 'at ease' position. "I just stopped by to see if you need anything." He pushed his glasses farther up his nose. "How are you holding up?" Mulder picked up the package addressed to Scully and twirled it between his fingers. "I'm fine," he replied with a self-effacing grin. "Anxious, but fine." Skinner nodded, noting the green Mulder had worn to work in his complexion that morning seemed to have faded. "You're one lucky bastard, you know." Mulder nodded, his mouth set in a soft smile. "Yeah, I know. You're going to have to get in the ass-kicking line, though, if you plan on making the 'be good to her or else' speech. I've heard it a couple of times already." "I know - I was there, remember?" Fox Mulder in a Navy family. God help him, or help the Scully's. Skinner couldn't decide. Mulder grinned, his fingers worrying the edge of the package until he tore it open, and he pulled out a small white cardboard box, his expression clouding before he looked up briefly. "You got everything? The rings?" Skinner's eyes showed the same amusement he'd worn the night before as he was reminded of the previous evening's events. Mulder must have asked him about the rings fifty times at the very least. "They're safe in my apartment" was his standard, patient reply. Mulder nodded and opened the small box, his mouth falling open as he spied the contents. Skinner's expression changed from warm amusement to mild alarm. "What is it?" Mulder held out the object with the tips of his fingers. It was his grandmother's ring, the one he'd given to Scully. "Is that the same ring she lost in the canyon?" Skinner asked, his eyes growing wide. Mulder looked at it closely. "One and the same." His face split into a grin as he looked at the ring more closely. Skinner shook his head. "How?" Mulder shrugged. "Native American legend states that bad luck will fall on anyone who removes anything from holy ground without first obtaining permission. Boynton Canyon is considered a sacred place. Maybe the reverse is true for something left behind." He looked at his watch, then popped the ring back into the box and stuck it in his trousers pocket. "I'll walk you out. I have just enough time to stop by the jeweler down on the next block if I leave right now." "You doubt its authenticity?" Skinner asked, stepping into the hallway. "No, I'm sure of it. There's something I want to have inscribed inside the band before I give it to her tomorrow." Mulder pulled his suit jacket from the coat tree near the door and switched off the light, looking around the office one more time. "Two weeks in Italy and not an X File to be had," Skinner commented over his shoulder. "I expect I'll see both of you back here in under a week." Mulder shook his head. "Not this time." He meant it. If he'd learned anything, it was that life is uncertain. With everything that he and Scully had been through, they owed it to themselves and each other to grab whatever piece of joy they could latch onto and hold on to it as long as possible. That included each other. Skinner was smirking at him and he threw a look over his shoulder at the A.D. before closing the door behind him, grinning. He carried no files out with him, no documents, just the ring in his pocket. Everything else would have to wait. Come hell or Alex Krycek, Fox Mulder was going to marry Dana Scully. XxXxXxXxX The End Notes: There are so many people without whom this story would never have been completed. First and foremost, my family, who have to put up with me and my obsession every day. Thanks to the readers who kept me going through the long, long, LOOONNNNNGG process. And if any of you ever catch word of me, beduini, and WIP in the same sentence, please nip it in the bud or slap me upside the head with a two by four! Kerri did the beta on the whole enchilada. She's fabulous. Not only is she accurate and thorough, but she's timely and offered great commentary and suggestions that helped out when my vision left me. And she's a great cheerleader and friend. Thank you, Kerri. Pam answered my plea for information and in turn offered me a wealth of research that blew me away, both in its subject matter and in its volume. There's a future story in there. NOT a WIP, I say. Pam, I hope you know what you're in for. If you had HALF as much fun as I did going through the research, we're going to have a blast. Marty offered many valuable suggestions in characterization, none of them sugarcoated. I thank her, even if she did laugh at me when I was describing the finale to her over the phone. Hmpf. Dlynn got stuck in the nastiest, hairiest chapter full of people and made sense of my ambiguous pronouns. Thanks to her we now know who 'they' are. And finally, thanks to the people at the Haven's fic board, who have kept me otherwise occupied with interesting conversation, fabulous reading material and wonderful support over the last several months. So - where'd this all come from? (I always wonder about that when I read a fic) - personal interest, mostly. I don't necessarily practice all of the ideas I put forth in this fic, but I've studied the subjects for years and have always found more than a grain of truth in there. Revisiting the specifics was a lot of fun. I've been to most, not all of the places but I confess that the knoll in Boynton Canyon is no where near as large as I imply here. Creative license, ok? And Trona really does stink, in all senses of the word. As for the premise, I saw the potential for a Mulder disappearance around the middle of Season Seven when I knew that there were contractual issues, and decided to write my own version of events. Chris Carter has done a better job - he is the master. But writing this was a fun ride, nevertheless. On to season eight! Bring him home, boys. beduini@justduckies.org August 9, 2000