The Sound By Seagrumn Leigh Shasta1013@aol.com SPOILER WARNING: For safety's sake, let's just say everything up to Christmas Carol/Emily RATING: R CONTENT WARNING: MSR CLASSIFICATION: S, A, R SUMMARY: A death in the family leads Mulder and Scully to startling revelations about the conspiracy and themselves. KEYWORDS : Mulder/Scully Romance DISCLAIMER: I don't own them, they're just on load. All characters and nuances within are the property of 1013 Productions and FOX Studios. Chapter One Peaceful darkness was shattered by light. White, blinding, then fading to gray. Rain fell from the sky in a hazy drizzle. All of her senses were on alert. Squealing tires, the smell of burnt rubber, the white cargo truck ahead of her. Where on earth was this truck going? She could see the Washington Monument ahead, its tall peak growing closer and closer by the second. She was running. Her long black coat flared behind her. Running behind the truck, running on pure adrenaline and fear. She had to save him. He was in the truck, taken by the shadow forces yet again. However, this time the doom seemed worse, far heavier than she had ever known before. If the truck got away, she would never see him again. Intuition told her this was it, the final battle, the last chase - the end. Before her eyes, the back doors were flung open. She screamed his name and was greeted with a crash. Color in the grayness - blood, red. Sound beyond that of her racing heartbeat - glass shattering, wood splintering. Sight besides that of the obelisk monument and truck - the ground before her was covered with the remains of a broken crate, shattered glass, and everywhere, blood red roses. She knelt to the ground, picking up a rose, and finally collapsing all the way to her knees. Silent tears were streaming down her face. All of a sudden he was there before her. His gray eyes matching the sky, and smoke curling from his lips. He spoke to her, but she didn't hear. Only one sound, a constant litany, ran through her mind... <> ****** Scully sat up with a start, gripped by a fear and anxiety like she'd never known. She hazily registered the tracks of wetness on her cheeks, the layer of sweat covering her body. Nausea flared loud and uncomfortable in her stomach, moving swiftly up through her body. She fought with the tangle of sheets that had wrapped themselves around her arms and legs. <> she thought <> She knelt before the toilet, emptying her stomach of its meager remains. She crawled up from her kneeling position to the sink, needing to wash the acidic taste from her mouth. That done she brought a towel to her mouth and her face to the mirror. She was shocked at the fear and terror she saw staring back at her. The fear and terror in her own eyes. The tears welled again and she crumbled to the cold tile floor, unable to explain the overwhelming sense of sadness and dread that gripped her soul. ****** Mulder was proud of himself. Fifteen minutes early, quite an accomplishment. They had a meeting with Skinner at nine and, for once, he was going to be totally together for it and not squeaking in at the last second. He hoped to make it in before Scully, give her a little surprised comfort at not having to cover his ass minute by minute with Skinner. Knowing her though, she'd already be there, thinking of some way to scientifically rationalize the report he'd finished last night. <> he thought at the sight of the half-full coffeepot. Mulder breezed through the door clacking his briefcase and coffee mug. "Good Morning," he drawled, awaiting her arched eyebrow and "what the hell are you doing here" response. But, when there was no such response, he turned to see her and skidded to a halt. One look at her and he knew all was not well. Despite his noise, despite the change in lighting, despite the fresh smell of coffee, Scully still stared mindlessly at her computer screen, seemingly lost in her own little world. "Scully?" He approached, cautious not to startle her. He saw a document window on the computer screen over her shoulder. Blank. ** "Hey Scully?" This time she jumped, awakened from her trance. "Oh, hi Mulder," she mumbled, not meeting his face. "I printed out a few last minute changes for the report," she said, lifting the pages to him over her shoulder. "Scully, is everything okay?" As she lifted her face and, finally, her eyes to meet his, she had one thought. <> "Fine," she covered, turning her face back to the computer, closing down her windows. To Mulder's credit and her relief, he let it go. "We better get going before Skinner decides to start playing drill sergeant over the intercom." She gave him a slight thankful smile in return and proceeded out the doorway, comforted by the lingering hand at the small of her back. ** Mulder knew. He had suspected something was wrong by the way she was avoiding eye contact, keeping her face concealed by a veil of red satin rather than studiously tucking it behind her ears as usual. Then he'd seen her eyes. Mulder could count on one hand the number of times he'd seen fear in Scully's eyes. This most definitely qualified. Sheer terror had reflected back at him from azure blue and he desperately wanted to assuage that fear. But now was not the time. He didn't want to rattle her further before the meeting with Skinner. Her composure seemed to have reasserted itself for the time being. She stood from her desk, gathered her things, and walked tall and ramrod straight out the basement door. He closed the door and continued down the hallway, taking his place by her side, his hand at her back. He'd let it go for now - for her sake. But in the same respect, for her sake, he wouldn't let it go forever. ****** Scully dismissed herself quickly after the meeting with Skinner, not even returning to the basement with Mulder, claiming to have business in the SciCrime Lab. "Right", mocked her conscience, "Tell the truth, Dana. You're just running from him." Mulder knew her too well. She couldn't hide anything from him. He knew something was wrong earlier, but, by the grace of God, he had left her some semblance of dignity with which to face Skinner. <> One look and Mulder had known. Seen the fear that gripped her. If only she herself knew why such a menace had taken up residence in her soul. One minute she had been asleep, the next she was praying to the porcelain goddess like a drunken college freshman. And now anxiety followed her around like a second self, the demon on her shoulder, fear peering around every corner behind her. And worst of all, he knew. ****** The sound of her heels clicking down the hallway startled Mulder from his trance. His hands flew to his desk, haphazardly picking up the first file he landed on and pretending to study it with the utmost care. His real specimen, though, had just walked through the door and was pulling files from her briefcase. She sat and turned to her computer wordlessly. <> She had hastily departed after the meeting with Skinner, making some excuse about following up a lead with SciCrime. He knew she was running - running from him. Running scared. <> "Scully?" "Mulder," she replied flatly, typing steadily away despite his intrusion. "Tell me," lowering his voice to somewhere between a command and a plea. ** Her fingers stilled. He stood from his desk, the creaking of his chair alerting her of his intentions. Her face raised and turned to meet his. "Mulder, don't," her glare cold and harsh, demanding, but the waver in her voice betraying her. But she should have known by now that Mulder never listens. "Scully, I -" The phone halted him mid-sentence and mid-stride, a few scant steps from her desk, inches from the truth. Their eyes locked, a silent battle of wills fought between hazel and blue. "Pick up the phone, Mulder." "Let the recorder get it," he replied, eyes steadily pegged to hers. "Fine, I'll get it." She reached for the phone but Mulder's hand caught hers on the receiver. She stared helplessly at her hand, trapped beneath his, fascinated by the difference in size. His broad tan hand practically engulfed her smaller paler one. <> Her eyes met his once again. She knew her moment of weakness was laid bare before him now. "Mulder, this is Skinner. I need to see you in my office A-S-A-P." The harsh voice of the Assistant Director filled the tiny basement office, a clap of thunder amongst the silence. "Go," she whispered, still eyeing him. "This is not over," he answered, reluctantly removing his hand from hers. His eyes, though, stared back at her still, leaving no doubt in her mind that he had no intentions of letting this go - none whatsoever. She watched him turn and walk out the door, closing it behind him, leaving her all alone with the sound of her own fear. ****** She heard him fiddling with the coffee maker outside the door. <> He hadn't been gone more than fifteen minutes, rather short for the usual Skinner-chew-you-up-and-spit-you-out- session. Berating tended to last a good half-hour at least, longer if it was Mulder alone in the lion's den. A crash broke her deliberation. The world stopped and nothing existed but the sound of shattering glass. The fear that she had so recently quelled reared itself at full force, careening almost out of control. She was out of the chair and across the office before she even realized her actions. The sight from the doorway, however, stopped her dead in her tracks. Mulder stood, slumped at the shoulders, staring at a shattered mug that lay on the floor. He looked for all the world like a lost little boy who thought the broken mug held the key to his universe. Then his universe shifted - to her. His face rose to meet hers, and she watched as a lone tear rolled down his left cheek. His eyes held her captive, sorrow echoing over silent lines. From his eyes to her soul, terrifying her. Slowly she approached him. "Mulder?" she asked hesitantly. No response. He just stared wordlessly back at her, sadness rippling off of him in waves. "Hey Mulder," she tried once again softly, laying a hand just above his elbow. Something had seriously thrown him for a loop. Mulder blinked once, releasing twin tears to race down opposite cheeks. He raised his right hand to her hair, tucking it gently behind her ear, letting his fingers trail and linger over her smooth pale cheek, his eyes seemingly entranced by the motion of his hand. "You're all I have left," he choked out quietly, his voice painfully catching on the last word, his eyes traveling from her cheek back to her eyes. Scully felt her heart break in that second. He was so lost. His eyes, his voice, his actions spoke of such enormous pain. A pain easily finding its way to her. She had long since acknowledged that when he hurt, she hurt. And right now, they both were hurting - he for some unknown tragedy and she for him. He dropped his hand from her face and turned without a sound into the office. <> She wondered. <> The realization struck her with the force of a wrecking ball; pain for him ripping through her heart. <> She turned back to the office to see Mulder slowly and methodically packing his things. <> Suddenly, sound in the silence. "I'm leaving for the Vineyard tonight. My mother's passed away," he explained mechanically. "I have some business to take care of." She knew he was barely holding it together. The faýade had slipped momentarily in the hallway, and she had seen the pain that gutted him. When he finally decided to let the pain go, the implosion was going to be severe. And she was determined not to let him suffer the crash alone. Chapter Two << Daddy, daddy, you're running over all the frogs! Don't kill the froggies! Fox, tell him not to squish the froggies! >> Mulder smiled as the memory played out before him. Samantha, age seven, begging their father not to run over the reflectors in the road. The reflectors that some deranged relative had told Sam were frogs, hence the never-ending screaming on trips to Boston. He and his father would laugh at her hysteria while his mother would try to calm her down. <> he thought as he leaned his head against the window, watching the passing landscape go by. <> Samantha had vanished a year later. And then later in life there was his father, Melissa, Emily, and now his mother. <> She had been lost, found, and almost lost again, but always there nevertheless. He turned his head to glance beside him. There was his constant - red hair tucked behind her ear, perfect little Roman nose, seemingly translucent pale skin. She sat behind the steering wheel, seat pulled all the way forward, rapt attention focused on the road looming dark before them. The sight of her there, knowing that she would subject herself to such horror to make it easier for him, caused the tears to well up again. <> He turned his head back to the window before the tears had a chance to fall, swallowing the growing lump in his throat. If he was going to make it through the next couple of days, he couldn't fall apart now. "Suck it up," he heard his father's voice scornfully demanding. "You're a grown man, act like it." <> ** A fraction of Scully's mind was on the road before her, a very small fraction, just enough to keep them alive. After all, that was the purpose of her being here, to keep him afloat, to rescue him from the sharks of guilt that would inevitably attack. She turned her head slightly to the right, glancing upon the primary focus of her thoughts. He'd hardly budged an inch since they'd left Washington. Two hours later and he still sat with his head pressed against the window, staring mindlessly out at the dark. His continual silence disturbed her. She'd much rather have him railing vengefully at a God he didn't believe in rather than this stoic portrayal. He hadn't even put up a fight when she offered to come along to "help with arrangements." She had expected a swift reproach, but was received with a nod and barely audible "whatever." Since then conversation had dwindled to monosyllabic words such as "yes," "no," and a now common favorite, "fine." To others he seemed composed, holding it together rather well, especially considering that this was Mulder, but she knew better. The doctor in her assessed shock. The psychologist that had been born out of necessity and long hours spent with a profiler, assessed a different kind of shock. He was in complete and total withdrawal, sinking full speed ahead into the black hole of death that constituted such a large part of his existence. She knew that the same darkness played a sizeable hand in her life as well, the still present anxiety that had earlier driven her to her knees served as a frightful reminder. Right now, however, sitting in the car with a man who was slowly unraveling before her eyes, she knew that denial on her part was the best for the both of them. He had sat by her deathbed twice now and had brought her back each time to the land of the living. Now it was her turn. Turnabout was fair play. ****** Mulder stood at the back of the church wondering how long it had been since he was last there. Martha's Vineyard had a variety of churches and it would only figure that his mother chose to be remembered in the same church where she was married. Odd, Mulder thought, considering that she herself probably hadn't even attended here in years, but these were her final wishes, according to Scully. She, along with his visiting aunt, had ended up making all the arrangements. Aunt Stephanie was his mother's surviving sister and the best kept secret of the Woodward family. When he and Samantha were kids, Steph would periodically sweep through like a circus, leaving only joy and happiness in her path. After Samantha's disappearance, Steph was exalted to shining angel in his mind, bestowing love upon a household sorely lacking in that respect. <> She had spent two days in Greenwich with them, then made the trip up to the Vineyard to get things in order for the funeral. He could tell that she took an immediate liking to Scully, and vice versa. The two had graciously spared him from the tedious odds and ends required for this day. Now he stood at the back of the church, Aunt Stephanie clutching tightly to his arm, barely restraining her tears, as they looked ahead toward the white cloth covered casket sitting before the altar. He could feel his control slipping fast, and he was becoming increasingly more helpless to stop it. << Helpless, always so helpless. >> He thought, lowering his head, chin resting on his chest, tears coming to the brink. Then he felt the connection. Strength infusing into him. He lifted his head to meet her eyes, blue gazing intently back at him across the long stretch of mahogany pews. He nodded, partly in thanks to her, partly in determination, and then held his head high as he proceeded down the aisle. ****** She had known this moment was coming. Things had been rough the past few days for Mulder. He had taken up the role of walking zombie, his soul separate from the ragged body before her, leaving her and his aunt to take care of his mother's estate. He signed the necessary forms when prompted, but whether he had any idea what he put his John Hancock on was doubtful. He was on autopilot again. He spent his time either staring out the window or studying case files, which was a farce she discovered one afternoon. She had stepped up behind him to ask a question and found him "reading" a case file, only the folder and words were upside down and his mind, she guessed, was a million miles away. She had let him be and rejoined his Aunt Stephanie at the dining room table. Steph amazed her. She was incredibly different from how her sister, Tina, had been. There was none of the oppressive Mulder darkness surrounding this woman, but rather a sheer fullness of life and joy that she now shaped into love and support during this tragic occasion. She reminded Scully of both her own mother and sister, strong and yet a flair for life that touched everyone she met. Scully was grateful for her presence here. Emily was still lingering close to her mind and heart, and this funeral only served to compound the pain, though she would hide it for Mulder's sake. A helping hand was a nice distraction and took some of the edge off of her own pain. Unfortunately though, despite her love and kindness, Steph made little headway in breaking the shell that seemed to encase her nephew. She and Scully were both worried by this withdrawal and both were afraid of the disaster that would surely come when he finally did lower his walls. Scully had thought that moment had come in the church, during Tina's funeral. She looked to the back of the church where Mulder and Stephanie were standing, and saw his chin sink to his chest, fearing that his body would soon follow suit and sink to his knees, and worst of all, she was too far away to catch him. He needed strength and she was not close enough to offer hers to him tangibly; therefore, she did the only thing she knew how in such a predicament. She focused her eyes and mind on him, willing him to take from her whatever he needed - strength, comfort, love. His head lifted and stormy hazel stared into her equally stormy blue. She recognized the nod as a thank you, and then he and his aunt had proceeded up the aisle. They had stepped into the pew with her, and Mulder's hand went for hers immediately, exacting a vice grip that almost made her gasp. The initial shock having passed, she had firmly squeezed his hand back, letting him know that she wouldn't let him fall. When they had been directed to sit, she pulled their interlocked hands to her lap, crossing her right arm, allowing her hand to lie on his forearm, and leaning close to lend him whatever he might need at the moment. He hadn't let go of her hand the entire service; his grip tightening when he seemed to be having a particularly hard time keeping the tears at bay. He'd held it together for the remainder of the service and burial. Upon returning to the house in West Tisbury, he retreated to his room upstairs, closed the door, and had not emerged again for the rest of the evening. Stephanie was worried but Scully expected such a reaction, thus lessening the shock and confusion at his disappearance. She knew that he was finally coming apart at the seams and wanted to be alone in his misery, away from the faces of onlookers and away from the brutal force of pity. She knew the feeling and reaction, personally, and now she knew the pain that Mulder felt when she had turned away from the comfort he had offered so recently. She had only prayed that he would not be as foolish as she, tucking it all away and putting up a shield of ice. She desperately hoped that he would come to her before the pain became too much, before it took him away from her for good. And now the moment had come, total Mulder breakdown. He stood before her at the bedroom door, dressed in sweats and a rumpled white tee shirt, hands braced on the door frame as if his life depended on it. She looked to his face and saw rivers running from each of his tortured hazel orbs. He was silent, staring at her, and she knew that his life was now in her hands. His knees buckled and she watched in slow agonizing motion as he sank to the ground, hands coming to hide his tear stained face, a heart wrenching sob escaping from somewhere deep within him. Then, suddenly, the world clicked back to real time and she was tearing at the sheets around her, moving off the bed. She scrambled across the room to him, drawn to him like a magnet, wanting nothing more than to take his pain away and stop this living nightmare he'd been drowning in for so long. His hands caught her by the waist before she could fall to this side, and he pulled her gently to him. Scully watched as he tenderly, almost reverently, laid his cheek to her stomach. The Roche case flickered briefly across her mind but was ceased by the feel of Mulder's long and graceful arms wrapping around her waist, coming to rest on her lower back, fingers splaying outward, pulling her even closer than she thought possible; and then the sobs began. "Hey, it's okay. It's going to be all right. It'll be okay," she repeated incessantly, softly, trying to reach him in the despair, stroking his chestnut locks gently and holding him close while the tremors of grief and guilt violently racked his body. "She'll never know. She was alive, and I never told her. She'll never know I found her. She'll never forgive me. She'll never know," he cried, repeating his guilty litany over and over in hitches and wails though the sobs. <> Scully's mind hazily registered the odd statements; but as the tears began to fall from her own eyes, she had no interest in discerning their meaning. His tearful sobs continued to soak the blue silk pajamas she had worn to bed. She cried with him, for him, exorcising the pain of today and the demons encountered the past few months that had torn their lives apart. Finally his sobs quieted and she began to step back, but he held her close, his arms and hands wrapping tightly around her waist. "Please don't leave me," Mulder whispered pleadingly. "I'm not going anywhere," she relied softly. "I need you," choked on a whisper. Scully thought her heart would break for the second time in as many days. She'd never heard him so desperate in the five years that she'd known him. To actually admit that he "needed" her confessed a helplessness so - All the thoughts running through her confused and addled brain came to a screeching halt the second his cold, tear-dampened fingertips touched the bare skin of her waist. Electricity shot through her body, paralyzing her, leaving her immobile and mute as she watched Mulder slowly inching her tear-sodden silk top up, exposing her belly. Sensations were all her brain could process; his palms, suddenly warm and pressed flat against her waist; his fingers barely grazing the skin; thumbs tracing across her skin in short little strokes; her hands weaving softly in his thick silky hair; his cheek, covered with a fine layer of late day stubble, pressed against the sensitive flesh of her belly; then, achingly soft lips where his cheek had been only seconds before. Blood coursed through her body, allowing only the sound of her racing heart to reach her ears. She felt a puff of air and then his lips were gone, being replaced by cool blue silk as he lowered the top of her pajamas back into place. Once again he pulled her to him, laying his face back against her stomach, and Scully closed her eyes, desperately trying to remember how to breathe. A breath taken, she reached behind her to take his hand, threading her fingers though his, and pulling gently out of his arms. He looked up at her, the fear blazing clearly in his eyes, afraid that she would leave him. She gave his arm a slight tug of reassurance, and was greeted with the first inkling of a genuine smile from him in days. He rose to his feet and followed her to the bed, grasping her hand like a lifeline. With her free hand, she rearranged the mess of covers and lay down on her back. She intended for Mulder to follow, but he was stalled beside the bed, a questioning look on his sorrowful face. She tugged again on his arm, gave him a don't argue face, and this time he complied with her request. She pulled him to her, draping half his body across hers and guiding his head to pillow on her chest. She felt his arms go around her, pulling her tightly to him, as his face turned to nuzzle the triangle of skin left exposed by her top. One of her hands went to his head, gently coaxing him to sleep with easy strokes of his hair; the other pulled the comforter up over them- all the while praying that she could keep the demons away tonight. ****** A wave of deja` vu overwhelmed Mulder. Here he was in the car again, forehead pressed to window, watching the landscape fly by. Only this time his thoughts were of a different nature. The last twenty- four hours played like a film reel over and over in his mind. His mother's funeral, now a clear picture in his memory, rather than the tear- filled haze that had obscured his view before. His self-imposed isolation back at the house, pacing his room back and forth like a caged animal as the guilt reached an all consuming high. And then he had gone to Scully - his anchor, his rope, his comfort, the only meaningful sense of humanity in his tortured nightmare of a life. His tears had flowed freely then, blessed release finally found in her arms. He remembered being held by her as she gently coaxed him into the land of sleep. The first real semblance of sleep in decades. The feel of sunshine on his face that morning had surprised him. Then he had felt her - warm and soft beneath him, chest softly rising and falling with his cheek, heart steadily beating by his ear. He instinctively tightened his arms around her, pulling her even more closely to him, fearing that this place of safety and peace was just another dream that would vanish when he opened his eyes. Then he had heard it - "Morning Sleepy Head." Felt it - Her fingers smoothly threading through his hair. Seen it - Pale skin and blue satin greeting him at first and then crystal azure eyes staring back at him, holding all the peace and comfort he'd ever hoped for. Mulder smiled at the memory and turned to glance at his partner, wondering if she would ever know how essential she was to his survival. He, himself, had begun to understand such a reality when she was missing, but only last night had he realized the full extent of his need - for her. The rest of the morning had passed without incident. Both reluctantly disentangling themselves from each other, and Mulder silently retreating to his room, taking a wistful look back from the doorway at the woman that had defied darkness, his own personal guardian angel. Breakfast was spent tying up loose ends and preparing for the final leg of their journey. Mulder knew that what lay ahead was going to be the toughest part. Having already been spared selling the house in Chilmark, this was the next worst possible thing. Stephanie offered to come along, but he had told her to go back home to Mark and the kids. She had called him a condescending male chauvinist and then left with a parting kiss to the cheek. Now here he was, in the car with Scully only a few miles from the house that held so many secrets and so many lies - Quonochontaug. ** The house looked the same as the last time she was here, not that she paid much attention that night considering that her partner was holding a gun to his head. She shivered at the memory, hoping to God that this visit wouldn't leave such nightmares to haunt her. "Scully, you okay?" "Yeah," she said on a nod, not trusting her voice any further. "Well, let's get this show on the road," he replied, the dread glaringly apparent in his voice. She took one last deep breath to dispel the horrific memories. She was determined to be strong for him. This house was the great battlefield, the Mulder house of mirrors, and her partner was the last man standing. Now he was left fighting ghosts and come hell or high water she was going to be sure he didn't have to fight them alone. Her mind set, she reached for the door handle and exited the car, going around back to help Mulder with the luggage. Scully hated having to stay overnight in the house, especially for Mulder's sake, but his mother had a local safe deposit box that would have to be taken care of in the morning. Scully followed at a discreet distance behind Mulder, lending her support, but letting him take this particular fight at his own pace. He had to fire the first shot. Then she would back him up if he needed it. Mulder held the door open for her, and she walked into the darkness. Her hand blindly searched for a light switch on the wall beside her. Mulder beat her to it, flipping the switch, and revealing to her how ghostly the place really was. White sheets covered all the furniture, dust filtered through the air, and wind whistled through the attic. "Hard to believe anyone was ever happy here," Mulder intoned, echoing her thoughts. He walked past her, laying their luggage on one of the covered couches, sending yet another wave of dust tumbling through the air. "I've gotta go to the bathroom. Why don't you go poke around in the kitchen and see what we need to pickup at the store." Scully headed down one hall, flipping on lights as she went - more white sheets, more dust. She reached the kitchen door and pushed it open, fumbling for a light switch once inside. Light filtered into the room and she turned back around to face the kitchen area and - ** Mulder finished his business in the bathroom and went looking for Scully. He walked around the back of the living room to the kitchen door opposite the one she had entered. He pushed through, prepared to make some chauvinistic remark about her in the kitchen, but the words died a swift death in his throat. Across the room from him stood Scully, stock-still and rigid, paler than he'd ever seen her. Then he saw her eyes. He was looking at the same terror filled blue that had stared back at him a few days ago. Then he watched in horror as his partner crumbled to the floor. He ran to her side, catching her before her head collided with the hard cold linoleum floor. He called her name, begging her to wake up. A frantic check affirmed a pulse and breath but little of that registered in his brain. All that mattered was that Scully was lying on the floor before him unconscious, and she wasn't waking back up. And then something else. <> Mulder turned his head quickly to look where her eyes had been focused. That's when he saw it, what he had missed before. On the table set a vase of flowers. A dozen blood red roses. Chapter Three "Scully! Scully, come on..." she could hear somebody calling to her off in the distance. But it was so far away. Too much darkness to swim up through. She was drowning, falling further and further. "Dana, Dana, come on. Don't leave me. Please wake up," <> She knew it was him. The voice was unmistakable, calling her back from the abyss. <> If he would just keep talking she could follow it out of the black hole she was being pulled into. Closer and closer... Scully tried to blink her eyes, struggling to lift her lids that suddenly felt like lead weights. "Come on Scully. That's right. Open up those eyes" Finally, the bricks lifted and there was Mulder. Leaning above her, his frightened eyes staring into hers as his hands slowly stroked her face. "Scully? Can you hear me?" She licked her lips, trying to get the words out. <> "Talk to me Scully. Your eyes are looking at me but I can't tell if you hear me." "Yeah," she managed to croak out. He breathed a sigh of relief and she watched it wash over the rest of him, coming to settle as a gentle smile on his beautiful face. "Can you move?" Scully began to test out her limbs, giving them a shake one by one. She noticed Mulder's smile growing wider and wider with each movement. She began to push herself up onto the pillows, and Mulder moved his arms under hers to assist her. <> Images and sounds assaulted her mind. She squeezed her eyes against the onslaught of images and sounds that fused into her brain. Not understanding where they were all was coming from. "Scully? Scully, what's happening? Scully?" She could hear his voice escalating in panic but she was unable to respond to him. She was caught in a maelstrom of memories, terrified emotions assaulting her mind and soul. <> Scully's eyes shot open, knowing there was horror shining back at Mulder from her blue depths. Then she felt the nausea. On the move, and fast. She struggled with the blanket Mulder had laid over her and battled with his arms that were trying to hold her still. Finally she broke lose, bolting for the bathroom, falling before the toilet, and emptying her stomach - praying to God that she was also getting rid of the torture that had just overcome her. She hazily registered someone pulling back her hair, rubbing her back soothingly as the last of the dry heaves racked her weary body. She gasped a few times and then sat back on her heels. Mulder was pulling her shoulders back, and she allowed him to ease her back against his chest. She felt him place a damp rag against her forehead, and heard him mumbling in her ear. "Its okay Scully. I've got you. Just breathe." She closed her eyes, letting the easy rise and fall of his chest pressed beneath her back calm her, matching her in and out to his. She finally brought her traitorous body back under control, but made no movement to leave his arms. She now realized where the anxiety of the last few days had come from, and having Mulder beside her did little to help allay her fears. << Mulder's gone, >> ran over and over through her mind. <> She felt the desperation and fear rising again and turned around to him, burying her face in his chest as the sobs overcame her. ** Mulder was dumfounded. The last time he'd seen Scully in any condition like this was after Donnie Phaster. She sat between the vee of his legs, curled up to his chest, sobbing violently as her hands convulsively took up handfuls of his shirt. His right arm went around her back, pulling her closer to him, while his left hand came up to stroke her hair, desperately trying to calm her. He rocked her steadily and mummered reassurances over and over to her, not knowing what more he could do. Not knowing exactly where this was all coming from. He knew the roses in the kitchen had triggered something - the same something that had frightened her to distraction a few days ago. He wondered if her body had reacted so physically and riotously before. Had she been alone, terrified, and sobbing to the bathroom tiles of her apartment? "Oh Scully." The pain he felt for her echoing from his lips, as the pain also began to stream from his eyes. He'd never seen her so distraught. The redheaded mountain of sheer will and indomitable strength was crumbling before his very eyes. He held her until the sobs began to quiet, deciding whether to approach this now or later. He had to know what had set this off in order to help, but as he felt her body sag wearily against him, he realized that sleep was probably the best plan right now. He shifted beneath her, pulling his legs up and bringing his arm beneath her knees - lifting himself slowly from the ground, and her carefully into his arms. She curled into his chest, her face burrowing into the hollow of his shoulder and neck, and Mulder felt his heart swell with affection. He would take care of this - take care of her. Just last night she had held him, comforted him, when he was coming apart at the seams. Tonight it was his turn. He would try to do the same for her, knowing that he could only give back to her a fraction of the strength she had lent to him over the years, but willing to try if only to make her fear and sorrow go away. He moved carefully to the bed, sidestepping the blankets she had wrestled to the floor during her frantic sprint to the bathroom. He sat down first, holding her in his lap, as he adjusted pillows and blankets. He sat back against the headboard and allowed Scully to shift on her side, once again burrowing into him, wrapping her arms around his waist and tangling her legs with his. Mulder wrapped around her in response and ran his fingers softly through her red tresses, easing her into sleep. ****** Scully rolled over in the bed, assessing the warmth on her face from the sunlight. <> Scully's eyes snapped open, then squinted shut against the bright rays streaming through the bedroom's bay window. She turned away from the window and sat up in the bed. <> Then she remembered the events of the previous evening, falling back on the mass of pillows as the memories resurfaced. The roses, the dream, the fainting, waking up in this bed, and then the fear. The fear had resurfaced and exerted itself with force. But she had Mulder here this time. She had cried in his arms, reassured by his presence and yet still frightened out of her mind. After that, things had become a hazy blur obscured by tears and sobs. Mulder must of have put her into bed and coaxed her to sleep. <> She stilled, all alone in the bed, as the panic rose, attuning her ears for signs of life other than her own. All was silent, in the room, in the house. "Mulder!" She yelled, as she bolted out of the bed. "Mulder, where are you?" She made her way down the hallway, desperately looking into each room, flipping on light switches out of instinct despite the morning light that filtered through the house. As her fear steadily rose, she remotely registered the tears that had begun falling over her cheeks but made no attempt to wipe them away. Her mind was focused on one track, screaming the same mantra over and over. << Mulder's gone. >> She moved restlessly into the living room, the kitchen, the dining room - her terror escalating with each empty and silent room. She stepped outside to the back patio, scanning the backyard with darting eyes, ignorant of the frost that lay on the wood beneath her feet or the cold wind that tangled in her hair. Just as she lay her palms on the patio railing, accepting the inevitable, the inevitable was circumvented once again. "Scully?" his voice echoed from inside the house. She turned to see Mulder at the front door, fumbling his way through with a couple of grocery bags. He shut the door and then turned to see her just outside on the patio. She knew the tear tracks were visible on her face, knew that her eyes were fear-filled and redlined, and she knew that he knew by the expression that washed across his face. "Scully, what's wrong? Why were you standing out in the cold? Why are you crying?" Relief welled at the all too familiar questions that flowed from his lips. <> And then the anger swelled even larger, eclipsing any sense of relief and happiness that had existed only a moment before. "Is it so damned hard to take a piece of paper and two minutes to write a note so I know where the hell you are?" she bellowed, her voice escalating with every word. "How dare you! I let myself fall apart and let you see it and then you go off and leave me. You bastard. You always leave." She stormed past him, almost making it through the living room, but then she was jerked backward, the speed of her previous pace causing her to lose balance and collapse into Mulder. "Scully, I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I though I'd be back by the time you woke up." She fought his hold on her, extricating herself from his arms, standing back and pinning him with her gaze. "Well I guess you were wrong," she bitterly spat. She saw him about to speak and knew what was coming next. "I'm fine." "No you're not." He calmly replied, meeting the challenge in her eyes. "What happened last night? What do the roses mean to you?" She felt a ripple of anxiety pulse through her at the mention of the flowers and turned her back to Mulder. She hesitated for split second, wishing for the anxiety to leave, thinking that maybe he could chase it away. << No. This is my game. Control Dana. You can't afford to lose it again. >> "I had a dream," she replied flatly, turning back around to face him. "Pretty severe dream I'd say," he said gently, walking toward her slowly. "It was nothing. I'm fine Mulder," she replied, turning her back to his approach. "So fine that you fainted over a vase of flowers. So fine that you, the autopsy doctor extraordinare, lost your stomach over a dream. So fine that you cried in my arms last night." His voice broke on the last words, unraveling her control like a little girl pulling at ribbons. She felt his hand on her back and she was lost. << Game over. >> She felt his hand pulling her around and then she was enveloped in his arms. She wound her arms beneath his leather coat and around his waist, squeezing him to her. She buried her face in his chest and let the silent tears fall. "You were gone," spilling over and over from her lips. Mulder pulled out her arms slightly, taking her hands and leading her over to the couch. She sat on the couch, sniffling a little, and he sat down in front of her on the coffee table, never letting go of her hands. "Tell me." And this time she did. The truck, the rain, the glass, the roses. Cancerman. And the overwhelming anxiety that had persisted ever since the dream's onset. "You were gone," she finished with a tear-filled whisper. "I'm right here Scully. I'm not going anywhere," Mulder replied, squeezing her hands in reassurance. "Yeah, but I just can't shake this feeling of anxiety. Like something is getting ready to go terribly wrong." "Did I just hear *you *, the Grand High Skeptic, profess to having psychic premonitions?" Mulder asked, an incredulous smile making its way across his face. "I didn't say that Mulder," she managed, sounding halfway serious, but unable to hide the grin that was similarly cracking her tear stained face. It was times like these that she was thankful for Mulder's brand of humor and knack for lightening the mood. That cue taken, she reached for a grocery bag. "So what did you bring back for me. Hopefully something green and not ninety-five percent grease." "So little faith," she heard him mutter, but her attention was distracted by the sealed brown package that she had found in the bag. "What's this?" she asked as he picked up the bags and headed for the kitchen. He turned around and glanced at the object in question. "That's what was in Mom's safety deposit box. Go ahead and open it. I just need to go put the milk in the fridge and then I want to go through it." Scully watched him enter into the kitchen then heard the rattling commence as he emptied the bags. She cautiously tore at the sealing on the envelope, not wanting to damage any of its contents. Finally opened, she turned the package upside down and was greeted by a few letters and videotape. She set the letters aside and looked closely at the tape, removing it from its casing. No stickers or markings of any sorts identified its contents. "What'd you find?" asked Mulder, strolling back in from the kitchen. "Some letters and this," she replied, holding up the video. "I figured from the size and shape of the packaging. Well, let's see what Mom has left us for our viewing enjoyment." "Nothing that you'd enjoy, I'm sure," Scully quipped, the eyebrow raised and a wicked smile playing at the corners of her mouth. "I told you those weren't my tapes," he answered back in mock hostility as he inserted he tape into the dinosaur of a VCR beneath the television. "Sure Mulder. Frohicke was just - " and the words died instantly as the picture on the screen became clear. For there, in all her splendid teenage glory, was Samantha Ann Mulder. ***** Mulder closed his eyes, willing the picture that had been permanently framed in his mind to go away. The drone of the plane engines did little to drown out the giggly teenage laughter that he had heard only hours before. The sound that had broken his heart in two. His own mother, he thought, his own fucking mother, had let him believe for over twenty years that his sister was kidnapped, missing, and that she had no idea where she had been taken. She had let him wallow in his guilt, suffer through a constant stream of nightmares, and spend his life trying to atone for "his mistake," when she knew all along where Sam was, safe and living out a happy life by the looks of the video. <> Scully had said, recognizing the look of betrayal on his face. <> But Mulder's mind was accepting no such rationalization. A wall of betrayal had been erected, thick and fast, and no amount of reason was going to break it. <> Mulder's mind was worrying over other things as well. Was this the same Samantha he had been shown a few months before? Was that black-lunged-son-of-a- bitch the one holding the camera? Would she accept him this time? She had asked for time in the diner months, but that was months ago, and he had given her all that he could handle. The insanity of his life was building too fast and too heavily, and if he didn't throw a roadblock in the way now, the madness would surely overwhelm him, plunging him into darkness forever and likely taking those he cared about with him. He glanced at his partner in the seat beside him. She had several maps of North Carolina strewn across her seat tray, trying to navigate the path they would take after arriving in Charlotte. Luckily, Scully had recognized where the video had been made. <> The military row houses, this time in red clay brick, standard issue playground, full green expanses of grass, dogwood trees in every yard of the neighborhood, and pine trees filling in the background - Camp Reid, North Carolina. To think, he'd been through there so many times as a kid. <> Scully's voice broke through his concentration, wielding him away from the creeping darkness. "We'll have to rent a car in Charlotte, then take Highway 74 down toward Wilmington. It shouldn't take more than five hours. I suppose we should find someplace to stay around Morehead City. It's the closest town of decent size near the base that's not on the Banks. I'll call - " "I've already made reservations," he said, cutting her off mid-sentence as he turned back to look out the window. "When did you do that?" she queried, her curiosity obviously intrigued. "When you were in the shower," "Have you been there before Mulder?" "It's taken care of," he responded, more harshly than intended, but sending a clear message to Scully that this line of questioning was over. She turned back to her maps, and he closed his eyes, leaning his head against the porthole as the giggling and pictures rewound and began again. ****** Scully wearily leaned her head against the car window watching the sunset behind the Carolina landscape. She remembered taking this trip more than once in her lifetime. Charlotte was one of the only signs of real urban civilization in North Carolina, so every month or so the obligatory shopping trip was made. The maps on the plane had been nothing more than a distraction. She could drive this highway with her eyes closed if she had too, though she was surprised at the hike in the speed limit on such a worn out road. She was more curious, however, by Mulder's apparent knowledge of the area. << He'd already made reservations? >> She didn't see how that was possible. He was frozen when she had called Skinner to explain their impending absence. << That was pleasant, >> she remembered. And he hadn't been much better off when she had led him to his room to pack up his stuff and she had retreated to the shower. << I have to find her Scully, >> he had said, allowing no questions as to his travel plans. He was dazed, but determined nonetheless. And Mulder high on determination was dangerous; therefore she had answered back "I'm coming with you," her voice equally leaving no room for arguments. And so they had found the first flight out of Boston to Charlotte Douglas International Airport and were now on their way to the North Carolina coast. She had recognized the base from the video and Mulder had gone after the bait like a starving fish, picking up her cell phone with shaking hands, attempting to call Skinner, but unable to manipulate his own fingers. The phone had fallen from his hands, bouncing softly onto the rug-covered floor, and Mulder had looked at her, the betrayal sweeping across his face as the realization of what his mother had done hit him. "How could she?" he answered, frozen, save for the slight movement of his mouth as the twelve-year-old sounding whisper escaped. Granted, she too was shocked when she saw the video. Samantha as a teenager, happy and, more importantly, alive. But she was more shocked, however, that Mrs. Mulder had kept this from her son. Allowed him to continue on in his tortured excuse for a life, let him wade through the nightmares that plagued his existence, and watched as he killed himself over and over in an attempt to reverse what he had always believed had been his fault. He was obviously thinking the same thing, so she had tried to reassure him, letting her investigator's logic kick in. "Mulder, anyone could have put that in her deposit box. It's a small local bank. People aren't as careful as they are in the city. Plus we know what They can do. It wouldn't take much for Them to get in there and plant that tape." But even as she said the words, the gray storm clouds of doubt rioted through her head. Maybe this is what the dream and anxiety was all about. Could she have known that such a life-altering event was about to occur? Well, no matter the conclusion, they were on their way to the inevitable now. They had packed up their things at Quonochontaug in a hurry, rushing to make a plane out of Boston in under two hours. She was so tired already and things were getting ready to get even worse. <> She thought as her eyes closed and she drifted off to sleep. A blink later she felt something on her cheek. "We're here Scully." She heard his voice through the fog and realized it was his finger trailing down across her skin, trying to rouse her from sleep. "Mmmph," she groaned wanting to go back to the land of sleep that she had so recently just visited. "Wake up Scully," she could sense his gentle impatience and wrestled with her lids to open her eyes. When she finally lifted her lashes she was shocked at the sight that greeted her. A huge sprawling pine stained house sat before her, landscaped with weeping willows, scattered river birches with their white tattered trunks, and two massive oak trees supporting a hammock. And beyond the house and yard, as far as she could see, was water - lots and lots of water. "Mulder, where are we?" "The Sound." Chapter Four The warmth of the coffee mug seeped slowly through his hands, while the strong liquid warmed his insides. That coupled with the sight of Scully sitting by the fire, her hair shinning in the reflection of the blaze, almost warmed his soul to contentment. Almost. Even as he looked at the fiery-haired angel sitting across the room from him on the hearth, another angel, one with long brown pigtails, laughed and giggled in his head. The feel of a hand coming to rest on his shoulder pulled him from his trance. "Hun, where'd you go?" asked Stephanie, filling his vision as she sat down in the chair next to him. He shook his head, trying to dislodge himself from his thoughts so as not to worry his aunt even more. "Sorry Steph. I guess I just zoned out for a sec there." "If I didn't know any better I'd say they have a reserved parking place for you in a la-la land," she quipped with a smile. At the squeeze of her hand, he knew what was coming next. "Seriously Mulder, do you want to tell me what's going on?" The corners of his mouth curled up at the sound of his surname coming from her lips. She had been one of the few relatives to respect his wishes and forget his first name had ever existed. When he didn't answer she went on. "I get a phone call from you this morning saying you need a place to stay as of tonight. Honey, you haven't been down here in ten years and all of a sudden you're on my doorstep," and after a pause, "with your partner. Don't get me wrong, I love having you here, and you know you should have come down here sooner," she added with a dig, "but I'm just worried." "I know Steph," he replied, giving her hand a reassuring squeeze, "and I'll explain everything once Scully and I have a little more to go on." He met her eyes, pleading for escape and blind acceptance for the time being. And there it was, shinning back with the added benefit of love. She gave his hand a final squeeze and got up from the table. "Steph," he called and she looked back. "Thanks again for putting us up on such short notice." "Anytime Dear. I'm just glad you finally got your ass down here," she answered with an evil yet heartfelt grin, and turned back to the den where Scully and Stephanie's husband Mark were chatting. Granted, this place was conveniently close to their intended target, but that wasn't the only reason Mulder decided to stay at his aunt's. He knew this place would do wonders for Scully. The house was a few hundred feet from the water, complete with dock and hammock, and the wide casement windows that filled the walls offered a view of the Sound from almost any angle. Mark was ex-Navy turned fisherman and everything in the house spoke of it, but his aunt had definitely gotten her share of the decorating duties as well. All in all, the house was tastefully done, and Mulder knew that Scully would feel at least some sense of peace here. And that's when her heard it, a sound that had become foreign to Mulder in the past couple of months and one that he'd feared he would never hear again. He looked up from his mug to see Scully bent at the waist, her shoulders hitching as laughter flew from her mouth in abundance. She lifted her head and caught his stare, locking her eyes with his. He was amazed at the sudden sparkle that had taken up residence in those so often tortured azure blue orbs. She turned back to Mark and Stephanie, saying something he couldn't decipher from his distance, and then all rose, snickers still emanating from both Mark and Scully. "Red here is one hell of a sailor," Mark managed to say, after finally catching his breath, as they headed towards him. Mulder had to smile at the use of the nickname he'd never had the balls to use. "No doubt that you've got a true blue navy brat on your hands." "Believe me, Mark, I know. Just never piss her off because she's got the mouth that comes with the territory." Mark laughed in return and one perfect auburn eyebrow made a northward journey on a certain partner's face. "Mark and I are going to hit the sack. He's gotta be out on the trawler by five tomorrow morning, so late nights aren't much of an option," Steph interjected amongst the laughter. "You two have the rooms at the end of the hallway whenever you're ready to turn in." And with that, Mulder's aunt and uncle departed. He turned his face back to his mug as Scully took the seat Steph had so recently vacated. "This place is incredible Mulder. When you said you made reservations I was expecting some two star motel in Morehead. This is certainly a pleasant surprise." "Yeah, this is actually the first time I've been down here in years. I'd seen pictures of this new house but reality beats Polaroid by a mile," he replied, trying desperately to stall the inevitable. As much as he wanted to find out what had happened to his sister, this happy little moment was much easier to deal with. And then Scully put an end to the reprieve. "Mulder," she began quietly, "we have to decide on a game plan for tomorrow." "Yeah," he answered distantly, still not ready to leave the comfort of ignorance. "Mulder, I know this isn't easy for you, but we have to treat this like any other investigation right now," she said, speaking calmly and evenly, trying to reach him. "We need a plan." With one final gulp of air, Mulder did his best to pull it together, and then raised his head to look at Scully. "All right," he said, "What are you thinking?" he asked, doing his best to sound capable of reason. She gave him a slight smile and reached across the table, taking his hand and squeezing it gently. "That's my partner." ****** Scully had been awake since around four, her mind and body humming with anticipation and anxiety for what lie ahead. And she was worried for Mulder too. Despite his attempts and show of control last night as they mapped out their plan, the shaking of his hands and the way he worried his bottom lip between his teeth were dead giveaways. Mulder's world had been blown apart over the past few days and putting him back together was going to be anything but easy. << At least he seemed to find some comfort here at his aunt's house, >> she thought. << But who couldn't fall in love with this place? >> The house was beautiful inside and out, and the water was just steps away. If she could make a copy of this place all for herself, she would be in heaven. And if she could duplicate the love and laughter that Mark and Stephanie filled their home with, it would be almost perfect. Perfect, as long as she could have Mulder, happy and whole, there with her. Still snuggled in her bed, Scully's mind wandered to the previous two nights they had shared, Mulder in her arms after his breakdown, and then she in his after the dream flashback. Despite the warmth of the comforter she lay cocooned in, Scully realized that she felt cold without his arms wrapped around her. Fearing the path she knew this thought process would take, she pulled herself from the bed where she had been propped up reading and walked out into the hallway, letting her nose lead her to the source of the unmistakable smell that was wafting through the house. She walked into the kitchen to find Mark standing impatiently by the Mr. Coffee, tapping his foot as if it would make the machine somehow work faster. "Well you're up awfully early," he remarked upon finding her leaning over his shoulder trying to get a better whiff of the brew. "Hazelnut?" she inquired, hoping to God that coffee was indeed her favorite flavor. "Good sniffer. Hazelnut indeed." << Bingo! >> "I take it you want a mug," he replied when he saw the smile that broke across her face. "One will do - for now," she grinned back mischievously. "Sure thing Red. Any specifications?" "Yeah, two creams please." She sat down on one of the kitchen barstools, chatting with Mark as the last drops streamed from the machine. He filled a mug for her with the coffee and cream, and she cradled it in her hands, smelling the sweet nectar before taking that first delicious taste of oblivion. << Ah... Heaven. >> ****** Mulder dragged his feet down the hall sluggishly, using his palms to try and rub the sleep from this eyes and mind. He followed his nose to the kitchen, the smell of fresh coffee leading him on as if a carrot were being dangled before a rabbit. Coffee was an instant alarm clock. Fresh coffee was horns and bells on high. He glanced at the wall clock as the walked into the pristine white tile kitchen. << Six-thirty - pretty good. I managed to sleep past four for only the second or third time in my adult life. Must be the place. >> He found the source of the heavenly fragrance, and waited for the last drops to brew. He figured Steph had started them a second pot after Mark had left, and the sound of running water beyond the kitchen wall told him that she had returned to the shower. He poured himself a cup and took a few sips of the hot brown liquid. << Damn. Scully's going to love this. >> He filled a second mug, adding two spoonfuls of the near-by cream, topped his off, and then headed for Scully's room. She'd be up by seven anyway, he thought, and surely she'd forgive him if he came bearing such a precious gift, the proverbial ambrosia of the Gods. He rapped lightly on the door, and when he received no answer he quietly pushed the door open, intending not to shock her awake. He liked the idea of waking up Scully slowly much better. << Don't go there Mulder. Now is definitely not the time. >> But as he glanced upon the tangled mess of sheets with no Scully between them, confusion assaulted his awakening brain. And following closely on the heels of confusion came the distinct stab of fear. "Scully?" he called, trying not to allow his voice to sound too panicked. << Calm Mulder. She's probably just in the shower. >> He set the mugs down on the room's dresser and walked back out into the hallway, turning towards the bathroom. << No water? >> "Scully?" he called, his voice become a tad louder, a tad more distressed. "Scully, are you in there?" When he still got no answer he opened the door - to an empty bathroom. No trace that Scully had ever been there. He went back into her room, frantically swinging open her closet doors. << Shit. >> The two suits that she had brought with her from the Vineyard hung there mocking him. << She's gone. >> He hurried back to his room throwing on the first tee shirt and pair of jeans in sight and pulled his gun from the bedside table drawer. "Scully!" he shouted, rushing down the hallway, hoping against hope to get an answer. He came smashing through the kitchen, intent on the patio door, not even noticing Stephanie standing by the kitchen table. "Scully!" still shouting, now at the top of his lungs. "Whoa Mulder!" He swung around at the sound of a voice, pulling his gun up and aiming at his target. << Stephanie. >> " Mulder! What the heck is going on?" He lowered the gun, and turned back on his path to the door. "Scully's missing," he answered hastily, not wanting to waste a minute in finding his partner. "Mulder wait!" The familiar words stopped him dead in his tracks, his free hand on the door handle. "Scully's not missing. She was up early and went out on the trawler with Mark," Stephanie explained. << Oh God. >> And as the fear and adrenaline seeped out of him so did his strength. He carefully laid the gun on the table and turned back to lean his forehead and hands against the glass door, releasing the breath he didn't know he'd been holding, opening his eyes to the half light of morning. << Thank you, thank you, thank you, >> running constantly through his mind. He felt Stephanie's hand on his back and turned to face his obviously confused aunt. "Mulder?" she queried. The question following silent but hanging heavily in the air. "I'm fine," he answered, the waver of his voice betraying his words. He turned then to walk back down the hallway to his bedroom, leaving a very lost aunt in his wake. ** It had been months since she'd felt so free. In the back of her mind a little niggle reminded her that she really wasn't free, but as the trawler skidded over the darkened waves, Scully chose to ignore the annoying little reminder. She loved the water. It was like a magnet, grounding her soul and infusing into it a unique sense of tranquility. If she were feeling particularly paranormal, she could even go so far as to believe that just maybe her father was right there with her, ushered into her soul by the ripples of salt water beneath her. << Mulder would die if he heard me say that. Telling him about the dream gave him enough ammo for weeks. >> As soon as the dream came to her mind, she blocked it out, wanting these few hours of peace before facing the demons that would accompany the rise of the sun. This darkness, the one out in the still of early morning with the sea breezes, black depthless water, and receding stars, was a comforting womb for her, a warm kind of peace she had always held dear. The darkness that accompanied the light of day was far more painful - exacting torture with huge swings of its deadly sword. "Hey Red, you wanna help me pull up the nets?" Marks voice called to her, pulling her from the doleful path of her thoughts. "Yeah, point me in the right direction. Controls or net duty?" She replied, plunging into the task at hand, gratefully returning to that place of warmth that was the sea. An hour later, after they had unloaded the catch and docked the trawler at the nearby marina, they coasted quietly in the motorboat back up to the house's dock just as the sun was making its intentions known, streaking the previously midnight blue sky with hues of pink and purple. << Pink at night sailor's delight, pink in morning sailor's warning. >> As the old rhyme played across her mind, she knew that her peace was at its end. She attached the docking ropes onto the side of the boat while Mark snagged the drift line above her head. "Thanks for letting me come along," she said to Mark as she took his hand to lever up onto the dock. "Anytime. You've proved yourself to be a very capable sailor," he replied, a wide grin playing across his face and a matching twinkle in his eyes. She smiled in answer as she washed her hands in the dock sink and then turned towards the house. "I'm going to head on in." "Sure thing. Tell Steph I'll be in shortly."" "Will do." As she headed back to the house, she could see the light on in the kitchen and Stephanie at the table. << More Coffee. >> She thought with pleasure. And then her delight quickly transformed into terror as she saw Mulder storm into the kitchen. He was hastily dressed and some source of stress was holding his shoulders into an all too ramrod posture, immediately telling her that something was wrong. << Very wrong, >> she corrected as she saw Stephanie make a move and Mulder turn quickly, leveling his gun at his aunt. She broke into a sprint down the rest of the dock and across the yard, her eyes trained on her partner's tense form. Halfway across the yard, she saw his stance change - arms coming down from their defensive posture, shoulders sagging, and finally his chin lowering to his chest. She slowed, watching as he laid the pistol down on the table and turned back to the patio door - pressing his palms and forehead against the glass, his eyes closed tight in anguish. She slowly took the steps up to the patio, but halted as his eyes snapped open, coming to gaze intently into hers. She was shocked by mixture of fear and relief she saw in the dark hazel circles - his pain easily passing through the glass and into her heart. She saw Stephanie approach and Mulder tore his eyes from hers to turn back to his aunt. He mumbled something to his aunt and retreated back down the hallway, as Scully stood frozen on the deck, not exactly grasping what had just happened. The click of the patio door snapped her out her trance. Stephanie stood before her, obviously confused and certainly frightened by her nephew's actions. "What happened?" Scully asked, her voice considerably weaker and higher than she'd intended. "I'd venture to ask you the same thing since you seem to know him so well but right now you look as confused as I feel," Stephanie answered. When Scully didn't answer she continued. "I'd just walked into the kitchen when he came tearing down the hall and into the kitchen, screaming your name. Then I guess I surprised him, and he pulled the gun on me. Apparently, he thought you were missing." << Shit. I didn't leave a note. Bad timing. Badly done Dana. >> "I'm sorry about that Steph. He's been on pins and needles lately," Scully responded, hoping that she was coming off a little more stable now. "I'll go talk to him," she finished, laying a comforting hand on the older woman's shoulder. Then she continued through the open door and down the suddenly ominous hallway. Darkness had certainly given first light its early morning kiss. ****** << Tree, trees, and more trees. Oh look, there's a barren field. I wonder how many shell casings are out there. >> Mulder was less than thrilled with this little joyride. He knew it was necessary, but that didn't mean he had to like it. His nerves were already on edge from this morning's panic attack, and sitting in a car feeling completely unproductive was not helping very much. They'd agreed to take this ride through of the base, but as he sat in the passenger seat watching endless miles of pine trees and scorched battlefield drift by, he was seriously rethinking the decision. They were driving through the base on Highway 172 like any other tourist making their way to the coast, but their mission was far more dubious. This seemingly normal trip was a scouting mission, refreshing their minds of the layout of Camp Reid so as to get a better feel of the place. Just in case they got into trouble later and need to make a quick exit, Scully had stated. Mulder had just laughed to himself. Yeah, maybe it was a "get out" for her, but it was a "get in" for him. Which is why he endured the current torture. Everything would be of use later. Everything brought him one step closer to his sister - one step closer to the truth. He could live with it, be patient. Temporarily. It hadn't slipped past his mind either that his careful observation of the outside, prevented observation of the inside. Thankfully, Scully had let this morning's actions slip by without incidence. At least for now. He hated scaring Stephanie like that, but even more so, he hated letting Scully see him so wild with terror. It scared him to death to think that maybe one day she would be so frightened that she would run screaming from the darkness like she should have done long ago and never come back. A few years ago it wouldn't have hurt that much, a little pinprick of pain. He was used to that. But if she were to leave now, it would be more painful than losing a limb. He could only imagine what it would feel like to have the heart torn from one's chest. He'd been there twice now, on that ledge, his heart pulled up tight to his ribs, almost ripped past the skin. But Scully had pulled through, saving herself and his life in the process. "We're almost to the end of the base. Do or die time. We can either go out of the base, grab something to eat, and then come back after the guards change," Scully chimed in. "Or we could just happened to take a convenient detour." He looked over to the driver's seat, distracted from his observations by her voice, to see a mischievous grin playing at the corner's of his partner's mouth and an evil little twinkle in her eye. He matched the tone. "I think my propensity for detours has been established. Surely, we wouldn't want to mess up such a perfect record now, would we?" Scully turned her attention back to the road, seeing a turn off ahead and motioning with her finger to make sure that Mulder saw it as well. "That'll work," he answered in return to her gesture. Scully pulled the car onto the side road, following the path for a while before the trees broke and they were greeted with chicken wire fencing around some kind of storage buildings. And directly before them, Mulder saw with disappointment, was a guard station. "Busted," he uttered in frustration. "Watch and learn Mulder," she whispered cryptically. Mulder's curiosity was most definitely piqued. He watched as she slowed the car down in front of the guardhouse, rolling down her window casually and in an unusually calm manner for being caught. "Hello there ma'am. This area of the base is restricted access so I'll have to ask you to turn back to the main road," said the uniformed guard, bending down to speak to Scully at the car window. "We have an appointment on base private," she replied as if she had every right to be there. << When the hell did she learn to how to lie so well? >> "Yes ma'am. Please wait one minute while I get the logbook. I'll need to see an ID from the both of you." The officer turned back to the station and Mulder looked to this partner. "Scully, what the hell are you doing?" "Just get your id out Mulder." He reached into his jacket pocket for his badge, thoroughly confused at this point, when Scully threw another monkey wrench into his already addled reasoning. "Not that one Mulder. License," she said, rifling through her own billfold as the guard approached the car once again. "Who's the appointment with ma'am?" "Colonel Daniel Taylor. Our names are Dana Scully and Fox Mulder," she answered, holding their IDs out the window for the guard's approval. "Yes, Ms. Scully. Here you are. You've been approved for access to the on-base housing and executive offices. If you'll hold on one more minute we'll have your visitor tags. Will you be needing directions?" "I don't think that'll be necessary private. I know where I'm going," she replied politely, taking the badges from the man's hand and driving through the now opening gate. Once they we're out of the earshot of the guardhouse, Mulder turned to his partner, ready to figure out what the hell had just happened. He saw her turn her head slightly in his direction, an impish smile gracing her features. "You're not the only one capable of making reservations." ** Scully drove slowly through the base, not wanting to draw unnecessary attention to their arrival and also wanting the chance to reminisce before the inevitable whirlwind set in. She was also having a difficult time not laughing at her obviously dumbfounded partner. << That was slick Dana. >> She loved confusing Mulder, turning the tables on a role that was usually his. She'd called Colonel Taylor this morning and asked to see him. Her godfather had graciously accepted. She knew Mulder was going to want a closer look around after their drive through, and she would much rather do it on a legal basis. And an inside source would give her and Mulder even greater access to the base. It had been years since she'd seen "Uncle Danny." He and her father had been out to sea together when her mother had sent word that she was pregnant with their second baby girl. Ahab had immediately commandeered his best friend on board for the job of godfather and they managed to make it home in time for the new arrival. Since then, she had always considered Daniel as yet another Uncle, and she was thrilled to have the chance to see him again, even though it was under less than favorable circumstances. She had also refrained from telling Mulder that Colonel Taylor had managed to live most of his life on Camp Reid. Family ties had kept him stationed here which had allowed him to climb the ranks at this particular base. Daniel Taylor, better than anyone else, would be able tell them if Samantha had indeed lived here at one point in her life. She pulled into the neighborhood and Mulder finally broke his silence. "Care to explain." "I told you that I lived here before. I was pretty little but I still remember my way around." "I got that part. How about Colonel Taylor?" he inquired. "He was a friend of my father's. And became my godfather. I figured we could use the connections." They pulled up the driveway to a modest one-story ranch brick house. And on the front porch swing sat a man who perked up at the sight of the approaching car. He stood - tall and strong, broad shouldered, and as fit as any twenty- year-old sailor. Only this sailor's gray hair added a good many years to that assumption. Scully felt the pang of loss for her father. But dismissed it quickly, burying it in favor for the joy of seeing her godfather. She heard Mulder pull his door handle and she followed suit, stepping out of the car and waiting for Mulder to come around to her side. She gave Mulder a quick smile and then uncharacteristically took off running down the walkway like a two-year old. This was tradition. Why ever would she break it? Danny met her at the bottom of the steps and pulled her into a hug, swinging her off the ground and into the air, smiling gloriously. "Well its about time Squirt. I didn't know if I was ever going to see you again," he laughed putting her back down on solid ground. "Hey, I wrote. I wish I could have come down here sooner, but life just gets in the way sometimes." "Well, from what I hear out of Maggie, your life is one helluva roller-coaster." "You could say that," she chuckled. "Let me introduce you to the steam engine." She motioned an apparently amazed Mulder to her side and laid a hand on his forearm, smiling up at him and then back to Danny. "Daniel Taylor this is my partner and friend Fox Mulder." She watched as the two men traded hand shakes, thinking of how this should have been Mulder and her father, but nonetheless happy that he was meeting one of the next closest things. "Its nice to me you Mr. Mulder. Maggie Scully and Squirt here speak very highly of you." "It's a pleasure Colonel Taylor," and Scully could tell it was. Mulder actually seemed to genuinely like Danny, which she wasn't sure would be the case after his less than friendly experiences with Bill. << Thank God he gets along with at least one of the other men in my life. >> The two men released hands and Danny turned back to her. "So what brings you down here?" "A case, actually. "We were wondering if we could ask you some questions," she answered. "Sure thing, let's take this inside. It's getting a little chilly out here." They followed behind him up the steps, and she felt Mulder slip in close beside her, hand at her back and head bending down close to her ear. "What aren't you telling me Scully?" he asked, not accusingly but most definitely confused and becoming increasingly more frustrated by being left out of the loop. She turned her head toward him and whispered to him, "He's been on this base all his life. If anyone knows, it's him." She could feel him stiffen with this new piece of knowledge, the tension turned up ten-fold as they entered the house. "Come into our palace. Megan's out right now, but she'll want to see you eventually. Can I get you two anything to drink?" "I think we're fine," answered Mulder. "Scully tells me you've lived on this base all your life." "That's the truth son. Camp Reid has raised me," Danny replied, taking a seat on the couch across from them. "We were wondering if you could possibly help us find someone. If I showed you a picture do you think you could identify the person in it?" Mulder asked. "Granted, I'm over sixty now but I can give it my best shot. Watcha got?" Scully watched as Mulder pulled his FBI badge from inside his coat pocket and reach behind the ID card to pull out an aged yellowed photograph. He folded open the picture and Scully could see that it was his sister, right before she disappeared. He handed the picture over to Danny's outstretched hand, and Scully watched as her godfather carefully studied the photo. And then the lines in his brow disappeared and she could see realization dawn in his eyes. "The hair's a little longer and the face a bit younger, but I'd venture to say with almost complete certainty that that little girl is Ashley Ann Smith. She came to live here when she was eight, I think. Why do you have a picture of her?" She saw Mulder still, the shock reverberating across her partner's already rigid form. He looked into her eyes once, the pain clear and shouting, but determination blooming on the horizon, then turned back to the Colonel. "That little girl is my sister - Samantha Ann Mulder." ******* End of Chapter 4 Chapter Five Mulder had been looking for Daniel Taylor for the last twenty-four years of his life. Someone that could tell him what happened to Samantha. If she was alive, and if so, where had she been taken? Who had she become? Now, all that was left to out was why. His mind was going a mile a minute - constructing a hypothetical life for the sister he'd lost so long ago. Danny had been a wellspring of information, and Mulder had jumped whole-heartedly at the clues offered to him. He was, however, puzzled by what the Colonel had said about Sam's family life. She had been raised as the only child of Scott and, more importantly, Jennifer Smith. By the ages that Danny had estimated for the young couple, Mulder had quickly figured out that Scott Smith could have in no way been the man who a few months ago his "sister" had claimed was her father. She was raised by both a mother and father and not by that chain smoking bastard. Mulder was both assured and confused by that realization. Had they sent yet another clone to him months ago to forestall him? Would they go so far as to attempt to turn him to their side? << Of course they would. They let me watch my partner's body and spirit be ravaged by a deadly disease while they'd held the cure in their reach the whole time. >> "Mulder, Danny could be wrong. He's in his sixties now," Scully offered, breaking his train of thought and pulling him from his passenger seat view of the passing landscape. "I don't think so Scully. He's trained to remember things - commands, names, places. How often did your father forget anything?" "Never," she answered, knowing that he was right. "It could have been another imposter like the one a couple of years back." "But she was a teenager in that video. Not a grown woman." "The video could have been a fake Mulder." "But Danny said that little girl really did exist. That she moved here when she was eight. The same age as when she'd been abducted. That's one hell of a coincidence. She grew up like any other little girl into the teenager on that video." "She could have been -" At her halt in words, Mulder could see the traces of pain that crossed her features. He knew what was coming next. "Mulder, she could have been created - like Emily." Mulder waited a minute before answering her, noticing how hard it had been for her to make that statement. The pain that came with Scully's daughter's death, no matter how she'd been created, had not vanished from either of their lives, despite both his own and her desperate attempts to hide it. "Scully," he started gently, "they hadn't even perfected Emily so that she could live past childhood and that was just three months ago. She was the first time we've heard of them placing their creations into real families." He saw her flinch at the word "creation" and immediately regretted using it. He hurried to finish his thought. "That video of Samantha was made over fifteen years ago and she moved down here with this family over twenty years ago." "I realize that Mulder. I just don't want to see you get tricked again like the last time you thought you'd found her. Your entire family was so happy and then it turned out to be just another one of their lies." Mulder inwardly cringed. Not at what she'd said, but at what he'd not said. He still felt enormously guilty for not telling her about seeing "Samantha" when she was in the hospital. Things had just happened so fast - her cancer turning for the worst, then a cure, a few glorious weeks when his partner had been back to her old self and maybe more, and then the tragedy that surrounded Emily tore their lives apart again. Telling her about this woman whom he'd thought was his sister would have only added more to her plate. And the pity that she undoubtedly would have had for him would have been too much to bear, despite the effort she would make to hide it. It was hard enough to know that his own sister, the driving force behind most of his work, didn't even want to be a part of his life. He'd thought it had all been for nothing - wasted time and wasted lives. Scully would have known how much it hurt and tried to be there in her own way despite everything else that was turned upside down in her own life. He'd feel guilty then, but he still felt guilty now every time his omission was unwittingly thrown back in his face. But now, it would have all been for naught. That woman in the diner had been another clone - sent to bribe him to the dark side. "Scully, I think this is for real. I can't explain why, but I just know," he said, answering her statement from before and distracting himself all with one stroke. "Alright Mulder. If you think its really her, we'll go back tomorrow and see what we can find out about this Pelican Station that Danny and the other officers mentioned. Maybe we'll find some more clues about her whereabouts." "Thanks Scully," he answered, and then leaned his head back against his seat, closing his eyes for the rest of the ride back to Steph's house. ** Scully collapsed heavily on her bed, pulling back the covers and wrapping herself in the heavy comforter, thankful for the chance to rest her wearied mind and body. After returning from a long day poking around on the base and then sitting at the table for hours with Mulder planning a strategy for tomorrow, sleep was calling her name. Loudly. And with the day they had planned for tomorrow, sleep was of the utmost necessity. Once Mulder had told Danny the generalities of his sister's disappearance and his life long search to find her, Danny's soft heart had shown through, offering up his help in whatever way he could. The fact that Scully too had become so entrenched in Mulder's battle, only added to Danny's willingness to help. She knew that he'd do anything to help her. He'd provided them with his executive files, but they unfortunately produced nothing. The records kept back in the seventies were nowhere near as accurate as the files kept today, and of course, no records for the family of Scott and Jennifer Smith seemed to exist. The piles of yellowed paper had given her a new appreciation for her laptop and floppy disks. Their biggest leads had come from talking to others on the base, particularly from those that had been stationed at the base on a long-term basis like her godfather. Their affiliation with "The Colonel" had won them an outpouring of hospitality - and accompanying that hospitality had been information. The word "Pelican" had come up each time Mulder asked an officer about suspicious behavior. "Probably NSA or CIA" had been the common assumption amongst the officers. Many of them recalled the mysterious suited men, but had put their existence out of their minds in order to concentrate on their own duties. Plus, keeping your nose clean was the number one rule around the base. "Butting into other's business," as one lieutenant had put it, was just not accepted. The suits were above and beyond them and to associate with the elite of the hierarchy was virtually unheard of. It was a retired Navy Seal that had benefited them most. Though initially mum, Mulder had managed to wheedle crucial pieces of information out of him. << Leave it to Mulder to interrogate a Navy Seal and get away with it, >> Scully thought. She'd seen Danny get nervous when Mulder became more determined with the former Seal, but then the officer had ceded to her partner - admitting that "Pelican Base" was some kind of top secret project operated from offshore on an unknown island out in the Pamlico Sound. Numerous times, while the Seals had been practicing night maneuvers out on the water, he'd seen the suited men board a navy scud boat and travel out across the waves and into the night. Beyond that, though, he was as unaware as his other Navy colleagues had turned out to be. Mulder had jumped at the bait, his eyes lighting up with that familiar glint that marked the beginning of a new chase. Only this time, the chase was incredibly more dangerous. They now had the knowledge that some kind of headquarters base, the heartbeat of the operation that had single-handedly torn their lives apart for the last five years, did indeed exist. And Mulder was determined as ever to find it - hoping that some clue as to Samantha's whereabouts would be hidden within. So they had spent hours over the wooden table in Stephanie's kitchen working out how exactly they were going to find and infiltrate Pelican Base. This would definitely be the riskiest step they'd ever made against the Consortium, but if it led them to Samantha, then it had to be done. With Samantha came answers - for both Mulder and herself. If Pelican Base was indeed the center of operations for the dubious project, then along with Samantha's abduction history would be hers. And the answers that she needed. Scully's thoughts were cut off by the sound of a door opening across the hall from her - Mulder's door. She figured he was having problems sleeping and was going to the living room couch to eventually fall out in front of the television. She laid her head back down on the pillow and snuggled under the comforter when she heard his door shut. But then she heard the knob on her door turn and the door opened hesitantly - squeaking slightly as Mulder tried in vain to make his entrance silent and unknown. She could hear his movements stop just inside the door, apparently trying to decide whether to leave or go. She stayed still, not exactly sure what he was there for or what she *wanted* him to be there for. It was difficult last night trying to sleep without his arms around her. Mulder's warmth was turning out to be very habit forming - a very dangerous but equally decadent habit. She heard him step further into the room, and then the mattress and comforter shifted as he sat down behind her, slipping between the sheets with ease. Her heartbeat was racing, pounding in her heart and ears, the deafening sound of blood rushing through her body. And then she felt it - his strong arms snaking around her and pulling her back against his warm firm chest; his legs tangling with hers beneath the flannel sheets; and his breath coming in humid puffs at the nape of her neck as he buried his nose and face in her hair. She laid her hands on the tops of his forearms and he squeezed her even tighter to him, leaving virtually no space between their bodies. And then he began to speak. "I haven't been totally honest Scully," he started calmly. She was shocked by his admission, and more particularly by the control with which he told her. She tried to turn in his arms in order to see his face, but he held her firmly in place. "Please Scully, just let me get this out." She nodded her consent and closed her eyes as the words began to pour from his lips. "The Cigarette Man brought a woman to me one night when you were in the hospital. She claimed to be Samantha." Her breath caught at this newest piece of information. << He had found her? >> He continued to speak and she could hear the strength that had earlier been in his voice beginning to waver. "She said they told her that she was an orphan and then a couple years later he found her and had a hand in raising her. She said that - " his voice broke and she could feel the first traces of wetness from his tears on her neck. "She said that *he* was her father. And then when I offered to take her to see Mom, she said no." His words ended in a gasp and Scully wanted nothing more than to turn around and wrap him in her arms and let him cry it all out, but he held her back to him still. "Scully, she left me. She didn't want to have anything to do with me. But that's not even the worst part. Now, after today, I don't know what's real anymore. Was that really my sister? Everything we found out today contradicts what that woman said in the diner. Does the real Samantha want anything to do with me? I don't know what to believe anymore." His voice finally broke and she could feel the sobs that racked his body reverberate through hers as well. She hazily registered the tears that had begun running down her own face. "I'm so sorry I didn't tell you. I just didn't want to burden you anymore. Things were so rough right then. You needed to worry about healing yourself, not healing me. I'm so sorry." She made another effort to turn in his arms and this time he let her. She came face to face with him, her eyes locking on his tortured hazel ones that were red streaked and issuing forth tears in steady streams. She raised her hand to his cheek, wiping away some of the tears, and spoke softly. "It's okay Mulder. It's okay." And then he buried his face in her neck, his arms pulling her tightly to him as the sobs returned. She ran her hands through his hair and whispered soothingly to him. "I'm better now. It's okay to let me help you now." He pulled his face from her neck and looked up to her, meeting her eyes, and she could see a glimmer of hope there and a little something else reflected back at her. "We'll find her Mulder. And she'll want to see her big brother. We'll figure it all out." He pulled one arm out from behind her, lifting his hand to her face and pushing an errant strand of red hair off her check and tucking it behind her ear. His hand continued behind her head, tangling through her hair, bringing her face even closer to his. Scully's breath caught as she stared into his darkening eyes, for once not looking away, as she should. He drew closer and she finally had to shut her eyes in anticipation. And then she felt his soft perfect lips touch the delicate skin of cheek, just millimeters from her mouth and lingering longer than any purely friendly kiss had the right to. Not that she minded at the moment. "Thank you," he murmured and then she felt the caresses vanish and his face resumed its place buried in her neck and his arms wrapped tightly around her again. She released the breath she'd been holding and tried to bring her body and emotions back under control before Mulder noticed the tailspin he'd caused. She lifted her hand to his hair again, running her fingers through his silky chestnut hair and closed her eyes, imprinting this memory on her mind before the warmth of Mulder lying beside her eased her off sleep. ****** They had been cruising the Sound for a little over four hours when Mulder's stomach decided to make its presence known. They'd started the day out early, taking Mark's motor boat out on the water after he'd gotten back from his morning trawler run. Mark had seen Scully's sailor act the day before and had let them borrow the boat as long as "Red was behind the wheel." They had decided to motor down near the Camp shoreline and nose around some of the nearby island masses that dotted the Sound. Unfortunately, they'd turned up nothing on any of the places they'd scouted out. And now his stomach was demanding input. "Hey Scully," he called back to her from his seat at the front of the boat. "Why don't we head back to the house for lunch and take some time to regroup?" "Sounds good to me Mulder. Sit or stand somewhere stable and watch me kick this baby into high gear. I'm starving." Mulder couldn't help but smile at his partner. It wasn't everyday that the words "baby" and "high gear" came out of his partner's mouth, much less out of a mouth that was set into a devilish grin. She seemed so natural behind the wheel of this boat. Despite the nature of their mission, he could see that a sense of peace and happiness had settled over her the minute that they set out onto the water. This was where she belonged. He stood from his position at the less than stable front of the motorboat and came to stand beside her, holding onto the bar that lined the control panel. "Let her rip, Red." She shifted some gears that he didn't really understand and then the boat lurched into action, cutting across the waves so fast that the boat bounced with each ripple. And beside him, Scully laughed out loud at his momentary loss of balance. "I said hold on." He didn't care that she was laughing at his own stupidity, just as long as she never stopped. This was how life was supposed to be. Soon the house appeared on the horizon before them, and Scully began to slow the boat down. Then she pointed to her left, drawing his attention to a landmass they were passing by. "Mulder, what's that?" "Oh, that's just Pelican Island." "PELICAN," she shouted in shock. "Mulder, were looking for a place called Pelican Base." "Yeah, but see all the pelicans circling up there. They shit all over everything so no on ever goes - " His words halted at the realization. "Oh Shit. How could I be so fucking stupid!" he cursed himself. Scully turned the boat to the left and headed for the island. "I've got a hood on my jacket. You?" He reached behind him, waggling the piece of overhang at her. "All set." Scully cut the motor a few yards out from the island and let the boat coast silently to the shore. They were coming up on the sand on a seemingly deserted side, which was to their benefit since it was the middle of the day. They had to be careful about this in case the place was still inhabited. The officers on base all suspected that the activity at Pelican Headquarters had ceased some years ago, but now was not the time to take such foolish chances. They hopped out of the boat once it floated up to the sand, and then beached it on the shore. They walked along the deserted shoreline, looking for a side of the plateau shaped island that wasn't too steep to scale. Once found they started the painstaking process of climbing up the sand dusted wall of dirt. Scully was in front and had an easier time working her way up the cliff, her light weight an advantage in this instance. Mulder was not having such an easy time. He'd slipped once, skidding to the bottom, and had to make the climb once again. He finally made it up the second time, sweat streaming down his face and his muscles aching like they hadn't in years. Scully was already up and exploring the top surface of the island, hood up in defense of the descending bird droppings. He pulled up his hood as well and then stood up, turning to scout out the opposite side of the tabletop of sand that they were on top of. He turned his head back to see Scully disappear behind a sand dune, exploring every little nook and cranny. And then he heard it. "Mulder!" she shouted. "Mulder, get over here now!" He turned around and sprinted as best he could across the sand, following her voice to the other end of the mesa. He walked behind the same dune he'd seen her disappear behind earlier, and he saw her on her hands and knees, frantically scooping out the sand around an inch of steel that peeked through the sand. He dropped to his knees and added to the effort, throwing handfuls of sand over his shoulder. Little by little more steel appeared, finally revealing itself to be some kind of trap door in the earth. Only this trap door had a glass covered keypad firmly implanted as a padlock. Mulder motioned for Scully to move her hands away and he pulled his pistol from its holster at his waist. He forcefully struck the casing with the butt of his gun once, shattering but not quite breaking the glass yet. He turned the gun around and gently tapped on the glass with the barrel until it finally cracked all the way and broke. Mulder turned to his partner, confusion and determination equally written on his face. "What's the code? Would they use the same code here that they used at mining camp in West Virginia?" "Try it. It's all we've got right now. 27828." He pushed the numbers in and watched as the red pad turned green and a resounding single beep punctuated the air. "Bingo! We're in" He opened the door and saw a sewer like ladder descending into the darkness. He looked to Scully and she nodded her approval. "You go first," she answered, pulling a flashlight from her knapsack and handing it to him. He clicked on the light and saw the bottom of the tunnel not too far down. One last look to Scully and then he started down the ladder with her following close above him. At the bottom of the stairs there was another door. He waited on the platform for Scully to finish the climb down. There was no padlock on this door so it was just a matter of turning the handle. "Here goes," he said, trying to sound calm and assured but failing miserably, as his hand slowly creaked open the door. Before them was another descent, but this time it was a staircase and a panel of light switches was on the other side of the door. Scully reached over, carefully and deliberately, flicking on one switch at a time. Light filled the stairwell and seemed to penetrate beyond, and Mulder's ears picked up a low hum emanating from somewhere below. "Well, that makes this scavenger hunt a little easier," Scully quipped. "Do you hear that Mulder?" "Yeah, the constant humming. I think its coming from down there." He walked down the last winding flight of stairs with Scully beside him and as the room at the bottom of the stairs came into full view, they both stopped dead in their tracks. Before them was a wide and never ending chamber lined on one side with a massive computer system made up of at least twenty individual PCs. And on the right - "Files." Mulder murmured. "Lots and lots of files," Scully answered, echoing the words she had used over two years ago as the same scene that greeted their eyes then, stood once again before them now. Chapter Six "Mulder, what the hell is all this? It looks just like - " "West Virginia," he finished for her. "With the exception of the computers, it's nearly identical," Scully added. Her mind could barely keep up with the images her eyes were taking in. The same file cabinets as the mining camp, stretching for miles and miles down one side of the corridor. Computers, large and complicated, lining the other wall. The system was massive. Every device known to man had to have been added to the once simple PC units. But it was the file cabinets that her eyes were drawn back to. On the outside, there was no discernable difference than those they'd encountered before. Black, same height, little silver handles, and date tags. << What's on the inside? >> The minute she'd seen the files, the question had presented itself. Would there be any clues in these files that told her more than she already knew? She and Mulder had learned so much in the last year. Between her cancer and the discovery of Emily, more and more of the project was becoming clear. Would there be further explanations in these files? They knew some of the "what." Now what they needed was the "why". But Mulder seemed to have other ideas in mind. He'd already taken a seat at what appeared to be the center of the computer system and was studying the various screens in front of him. "I think I've seen this system before," he called to her. "Only last time, we were further in than this." "Last time?" she inquired, walking over to stand behind his chair, looking over his shoulder to get a glimpse of the computer screens. "The fertility clinic, with Kurt Crawford," he answered distractedly, pecking away at the keyboard to try and break through the DOS encryption. "He was already there and had hacked into the mainframe by the time I got there." She wasn't sure why this shocked her - why a sudden sense of betrayal passed through her and aimed straight for her heart. Mulder had told her all this after Emily was buried. She had most definitely been surprised and a bit hurt by her partner's admission of knowledge concerning her sterility during the adoption hearing. After they'd returned to Washington, she'd demanded that Mulder tell her everything that went on when she'd been first diagnosed with the cancer and admitted to the hospital. The same sense of pain that assaulted her then was rearing its head now. << And this is not the time Dana! Time to hack. >> Scully shook her head with disgust, ridding herself of the memories and steeling herself for the mission before her. << This is going to be good. >> "Mulder, let me give it a try." He turned his head from the screen to see his partner standing beside him, looking decidedly impish. She had something up her sleeve. Scully saw the confusion and curiosity that she'd piqued in her partner. "Let me see if I can get to the mainframe. You can try to figure out the password while I work on this." Mulder got up from the chair, eyeing her suspiciously, and then turned his attention back to the task at hand, looking through the steel frame that housed the computers. Scully sat down, took a deep breath, and started punching keys. << You don't date a computer nerd in college and not learn something. >> Five minutes later, a resounding "ping" emanated from the computer, and what looked like a mainframe menu popped up on the screen. "Try this," Mulder called at the same moment, moving back toward her with a small Pelican-shaped paperweight in his hand. "Just in time," she answered, turning her head up to see what could only be described as a dumbfounded Mulder. "It's prompting for an entrance password. Is this the same thing you saw before?" "Scully, when the hell did you learn how to hack? You never told me." "I was saving it for an emergency," she answered hastily. This was wasting time, and she didn't know how much they had. "Mulder, forget it. We don't have time for this. Do you know what to do from here?" "Uh, yeah, enter in this, S-H-E-P-H-E-R- D-L-E-A-S," he answered finally, showing her the embossed letters on the paperweight. She entered the letters and vacated the seat for Mulder to take over. "Jackpot! We're in," Mulder exclaimed as another screen popped up with a name and password prompt. But as he read the words along the top of the screen, any further words he'd planned on using died on his lips - "PROJECT TRACKING." "Oh my god, Mulder. They're tracking us," Scully managed in a hoarse whisper, as her hand strayed seemingly of it own will to the back of her neck. She'd felt like a guinea pig for Them for years now, but this added a whole new dimension to her anger. She hadn't been put on this earth to become some homing pigeon for their heinous experiments. Mulder's voice brought her back to reality. "Scully! Scully, they will pay for this." The anger and frustration in his own voice was palpable. "But right now, we need to focus on what we can solve immediately. We need another password." She looked back to the screen. "Samantha Ann Mulder" was entered in the name block, but a warning icon had appeared, requesting a different password. "Shepherdleas doesn't work this far. There's got to be something else," Mulder added. "The files," she answered, realization dawning in both their minds. They vacated their places at the computer console and headed for the file cabinets, searching for 1965. Once found, Mulder yanked open the drawer and Scully thumbed back to the "M's." "Found it," she said, pulling out the file and sitting it on top of the others. She opened it up and began flipping through pages. "They're med-files. Just like the last time, but there's even more information." "The Password, Scully," Mulder cut in. "We'll take it with us and go through it again later. Right now, we just need a password." "Got it," she replied, and began looking for some kind of tale-tale sign. "Go to the back inside cover," Mulder said. "Bingo!" she replied through labored breaths. On the coverlet was a sticker with a series of letter and numbers. "Ten to one that's it." She handed the folder over to Mulder with the code exposed and he took off for the computers. Scully's attention, however, was elsewhere. As she'd been flipping through Samantha's file, on one page she'd noticed the heading - "TESTING RECORD." Sam's page had been blank, save for an initial movement notice and then the word CLOSED. No tests had been conducted on Mulder's sister. Scully knew that her record would look decidedly different. She moved deliberately up to the 1964 drawers, found the beginning of the "S's," and opened the drawer slowly, dreading what she might find within, but needing to know as if her life depended on it. She had the truth, now what she wanted were the answers - the answers that could be found in these files. She thumbed back to "D," and there it was amongst the others, SCULLY, DANA KATHERINE. She distantly heard Mulder shout something but her mind was focused on the folder that sat before her. She sucked in a deep breath and then opened the folder quickly, taking only a cursory glance at the first few sheets, since she already knew her final destination. Scully finally reached the final few sheets of the manila folder and froze when she found what she'd been looking for. A detailed record of tests conducted on one Dana Katherine Scully. Unlike Samantha's, her sheet was filled. Pelvic laser biopsy. Radiation treatment. Distention of uterus and stomach. Induced Super-ovulation. Extraction of ova. Body laser scan. Frontal sinus biopsy. Retinal scan. Mind scan. Cervical spine implant. She could see it all. Feel it all. With each word that she read, the memories resurfaced, triggered and brought to their terrifying realization. Before now, those three months had been a blank to Scully, but as she read on, the blanks were filled in, both on paper and in her mind. The further she read, the more sickened and angry she became. << What all have those bastards done to me? >> She thought as the desperation mounted. She read on. Possible side affects: Radiation poisoning, sterility, death. << Oh God, help me. No more. >> She skimmed past the remaining jargon to the bottom of the page, looking for some kind of salvation. But none was to be found. There was no CLOSED at the end of her page. ** "We got her! Scully, it worked," Mulder shouted as a tracking record appeared on the screen before him. "Samantha Ann Mulder, renamed, Ashley Ann Smith. Assigned to Scott and Jennifer Smith. Camp Reid, North Carolina. November 1,1973. 1980 moved to Charleston, South Carolina. Yada, yada," he called, reading down the lengthy page of base transfers. "Here we go, 1996 Ashley Ann Bower and family move to Charlotte, North Carolina. Scully, she's just - " He lost his words after turning from the screen to see his partner standing stock still by an open file drawer and growing paler by the second. He bolted from the chair, running down the corridor to his partner. "Scully? Scully, what's wrong?" he shouted amidst his approach. He saw her attention snap, and she turned her face toward him. The fear was so bright in her eyes that he stopped in his tracks. But as quickly as he'd seen it, it was covered, and she turned her face away from him, wiping away the stray tear that had seeped from her eye. Just as he came to her side, she fiercely closed the file that she'd been reading. Mulder looked down at the tab - DANA KATHERINE SCULLY. "Scully, are you okay? What did you find in there?" He saw her take a gulp of air and then she turn her face to him. "I'm fine, Mulder," she answered curtly. "It was nothing. The same as West Virginia." "Yeah, right, Scully. You hadn't said a word about Sam and when I turned around you were white as a ghost. That was *not* nothing." "I said I'm fine, Mulder," she replied, her hostility belied by her obvious effort not to make further eye contact. She took her file and slammed the drawer shut, attempting to side-step Mulder. He saw the move coming and grabbed her upper arm, turning her back to him. He bent down, making it impossible for her to avoid his eyes. "Don't lie to me, Scully," his agitation tempered with worry. "Please don't lie to me," he pleaded, his voice soft and sincere. His desire to help her was slowly chipping away at Scully's resolve. "I'm okay, Mulder," she said, meeting his eyes and wishing she hadn't the second she saw the concern that filled those hazel ovals. He lifted a hand to her cheek, brushing back away the previous tear track. "Tell me," he pleaded softly. "Just let me help you." She closed her eyes, desperately trying to keep what little control she had left. "Mulder, this - " The computers whined to a halt as the lights blinked out above them. "What the fuck?" Mulder murmured. And then there were voices. And footsteps descending down the steel ladder from the surface. Mulder ran back to the computer console and snatched up Samantha's file folder and then ran back toward Scully. "We have to find another way out," he whispered as he grabbed her wrist, and they dashed down the corridor away from the stairwell door. They eventually came to a split in the corridor, and Mulder halted, trying to decide which path to take. He could hear the voices approaching and the squeak of the door opening up to the room. "Pick one," he said, turning to Scully, whom he still had by the hand. "Right," she replied and took the lead down the new tunnel, dragging him behind her. Mulder noticed the light flickering back on and could hear the cursing of the men behind them, having discovered that their terminals had been breached. He turned his head to look back, and almost lost the rest of her body as Scully jerked him forward, running even faster from the sounds of the voices and feet chasing them through the now lighter tunnels. "Fuck!" The expletive coming from her mouth momentarily shocked him, but at the sight of the steel door that faced them, he understood her duress. "We must be on one side of the plateau. We haven't elevated enough to be on top, so this must be a shore door." Mulder was getting more worried by the minute. He could hear their hunters at the fork in the paths, debating how to split up. Scully had released him, shoving the folder she held in her other hand into his and went to work on the keypad by the door. "How can people that propose to rule the world, be so fucking stupid?" Shock again registered in Mulder at her words, but that feeling was quickly replaced by immeasurable relief. The steel door that before looked so impenetrable, now stood wide open to reveal their boat, sitting like a beached whale on the shore. "You are *so* good, Scully." Mulder carefully shut the door behind them so the sound wouldn't alert the guards to their pathway. Then he sprinted after Scully, who was already trying to push the boat into the water. He joined her, and they got the boat into the rippling breakers and hopped in themselves - Mulder revving the motor into action and Scully steering them away from the shore. As Mulder looked back, he could see the men, dressed in their suits and trench coats, along with armed guards fanning out onto the sand. They raised their weapons and Mulder felt a desperate urge to get off the boat and push. It just wasn't going fast enough. "Scully, can't this thing go any faster?! They're firing on -" Mulder spun on his heels, falling to the floor of the motorboat as his right arm came up to cradle his left bicep. He curled in on himself, following the body's most basic instinct when injured. He could feel the burning in his arm like an arrow had sliced through his skin. "Mulder! Mulder, are you okay? Where did it hit you?" He heard her calling as she tried to assess the damage done to him and drive the boat at the same time. "Just go Scully! I'm fine! Get us the hell out of here!" And with that, he felt Scully throw down the hammer and the boat take off, bouncing full speed ahead across the darkening waves of the Sound. Chapter Seven Mulder sat patiently on the bed, his right hand holding up the makeshift bandage that was wrapped around his left arm. And what a bandage it was. Scully's denim shirt was now soaked with blood, ruined for good, and he had one more reason to feel guilty. He let his chin rest on his chest, the blood loss starting to make him feel a little woozy and tired. And his mind was in a whirlwind - trying to figure out who their hunters had been, how he was going to approach Samantha and, most importantly, what had made Scully turn forty shades of white in under a minute. "Are you starting to feel lightheaded?" Scully inquired, as she came back into the bedroom carrying a first aid kit. "Yeah," he replied, hardly managing that much. His arm was throbbing incessantly and his head was quickly catching up. She picked up his arm and pulled it out toward her, carefully removing the now red shirt, and causing a stab of pain to shoot through his arm. Every little movement hurt like hell. His sharp intake of breath drew her head up just in time to see the grimace streak across his face. "I'm sorry," she said softly, the concern painted so plainly on her pale features. She turned back to the work at hand and tried to be even gentler, which to Mulder seemed virtually impossible. He might as well have been a newborn baby that she was performing surgery on. He appreciated the gesture, but at the moment he would almost rather have her handle him harshly if it meant getting it done faster. "It looks like the bullet only went through the skin of the arm. It missed your bone, so you're not in any real danger. You'll just be sore for a few days," she rolled off mechanically. << The *enigmatic* Doctor Scully, >> he thought. He knew she was purposely lost in her doctorly chores. It allowed her the distraction and escape from whatever she'd found in her file. But she couldn't completely shake it. Her hands were still wobbly and a bit shaky as she redressed his wound with clean gauze from the first aid kit. But right now, his head would wage war if he even attempted to get into it with her. It was going to be tough breaking her shield that she had once again fortified, and falling asleep in the middle of her admission, if it ever came, would not be a smart move. << She must be psychic. >> He felt her adjusting the pillows behind him and then she was lowering him into that sweet oblivion of flannel. He absently wondered if her bed was as comfortable as his. "That's it. Just rest for a bit," she instructed him. He felt her pull the covers out from under him and then over him until they were tucked carefully beneath his chin. Then he vaguely registered her soft cool hand brushing the hair off his forehead. "Thank you," he murmured and then let the darkness carry him to sleep. ** Scully picked up the discarded first aid kit and shirt and padded quietly back out into the hallway, pulling Mulder's door shut behind her. She wandered back down the hallway to the pantry, setting the supplies on the shelf where she'd found them before, and then deposited her blood soaked shirt in the garbage. The crimson stains would never come out and there was no need to excite Stephanie with the news of her and Mulder's latest little mishap. << Hell, an injury that doesn't require the obligatory trip to the hospital is miraculous, >> she thought. << Better not jinx it. >> Scully looked back down the hall toward Mulder's room - wishing for all the world that she could go back in there, crawl under the covers with him, and let sleep grant her a reprieve from the memories that were assaulting her mind. She was sure that he'd seen her hands shaking while she'd dressed his wound, but gratefully he'd kept his mouth shut. If she'd had to explain to him then, she knew she would have lost it. Everything was too fresh. She wasn't even sure exactly what she was seeing. Images played over and over in her mind, unconnected and yet terribly vivid, and there were random sounds that made their intrusion known from time to time. It was like someone stopping and starting a VCR in her head, and the controller occasionally turned up the volume to let her hear. The more time lapsed, the more frequent the sounds were becoming - and louder. She trudged back to the kitchen, taking note of the time on the wall clock. It was four in the afternoon. Had they really been out there that long? <> She was vaguely surprised that Mulder's stomach had held out so long. And he'd still gone to sleep with it empty. She made a mental note to make sure he ate when he woke up. Mark and Stephanie wouldn't be in for another hour or so. << Great, a whole hour by myself in silence. Just what I need - time to ponder, >> she thought with dread. She couldn't believe that once she'd wanted to know what she knew now. The truth be damned. The truth was ugly. They'd poked and prodded her with unknown methods of technology and left her exposed to God only knows how many possible side affects - two of which she'd already experienced. Would there be more? Would it ever end? << Fuck, I can't deal with this right now. >> "You need it Dana. Face your fears. Let it happen." She could hear Melissa's voice amongst the confusion in her head. "Remember Dana. It'll make it easier." << Yeah right Missy. Why don't you come deal with it?! >> The minute the thought escaped, she regretted it and hated herself for even thinking it. Missy had dealt with it - in the most final way possible. This insanity had taken her sister's life - in place of her own. Scully rummaged through a few cabinets looking for the teabags. Finally found, she took out a kettle and started the water brewing. She was not about to sit still and let the memories wage all-out war on her mind and soul. At least not yet. She wasn't ready for that. << One hour Dana. Only one hour of solitude and then there will be plenty of distraction. >> Scully heard the kettle whistle and as she turned to the stove an idea sprung to her mind. << Time to play domestic. God, I'm desperate. >> Scully turned back to the refrigerator and swung open the doors. << It's the least I can do in return for their hospitality. >> She reached for the vegetables and a few other things and turned back to the cutting area, hoping that the mundane task of fixing dinner would distract her from what looked to be one of the longest hours of her life. ****** The first thing to reach Mulder's conscious was the vague scent of spaghetti sauce wafting into his room. He took a deeper breath to confirm his initial speculation. << Yep, definitely Italian. >> The second thing he felt wasn't nearly so pleasant. As he went to get out of bed, a sharp pain shot through his left arm, reminding him of his earlier accident. The rude awakening delivered by his arm had caused him to open his eyes, and he noticed that it had already gotten dark outside. He proceeded to carefully drag himself out of the bed and pull a near-by tee shirt over his head, making the pain in his arm even worse. << Thank God for small miracles, >> he thought upon spotting the little bottle of Ibuprofen that Scully had left on the dresser. He popped four of them and then let his nose lead him to the kitchen. Unfortunately, when he got there confusion wracked his still-awakening brain. There was a faint smell of spaghetti in the air, and yet, there was nothing on the stove or sitting out around the kitchen to indicate that food had ever been there. He rubbed his eyes with the balls of his palms, trying to get rid of this apparent dream. "Hun, you look a bit confused," Steph said, approaching him from the den. "I swear that I smell food and yet I don't see anything," he replied, bringing his hands down from his face and turning to face his aunt. "Its nine-thirty, dear. You slept through dinner. Sit down and I'll heat you up some food." Mulder took a seat at the table and cautiously tested out his arm, lifting it slowly and bending it at the elbow. It wasn't too bad. He figured it would be sore for a few days, but no permanent damage. Right now though, he thought, his stomach was going to rebel if it wasn't fed. And amazingly a steaming plate of spaghetti with meat sauce appeared before him. "Eat up," his aunt ordered. "Thanks Steph." "Don't thank me. Thank that partner of yours. She cooked it all." "Scully?" he choked in surprise. "Yeah, the red headed one," Mark quipped. "A sailor and a chef." "Where'd she go?" Mulder inquired, taking note of her absence. "She excused herself about fifteen minutes ago. I think she went out on the pier," Stephanie answered. "As for us, we're out for the night. Just rinse off the dish and put it in the dishwasher, if you don't mind." "Sure thing," Mulder answered, a fake smile plastered on his face to cover up the worry that was suddenly filling his mind. He'd known that Scully was upset by the file she'd found in the corridor. And now she'd been cooking. << Distraction 101 - Scully style. >> He'd seen her nervous before. She would throw herself into the most mundane task available at hand and make it as extravagant as possible. Anything to avoid what was truly bothering her. And obviously this was a doozey if she'd been cooking. "Oh Mulder, I almost forgot." He looked up to see his aunt's head peeking out of the bedroom door. "A guy named Danny called from DC. He said to tell you that the tape was clean and that it was deposited three weeks ago. Whatever that all means," Steph relayed. "Night, Dear," she added and retreated back into the bedroom. He quickly finished his dinner, settling the earlier grumbling, and then placed his dish in the dishwasher as his aunt had asked. He walked over to the patio door and could see Scully sitting at the end of the dock, legs dangling over the water. He found his tennis shoes by the door and then silently opened the glass door on his way out to join his partner. He approached quietly, not wanting to startle her. From the angle she was sitting and the way the dock light cascaded across her face, he could see the tear tracks glistening on her cheeks. More than anything he wanted to run to her side and wrap her up in his arms, chasing away the demons that plagued her, but he knew that doing so would only send her running and screaming back into her shell. He saw her shoulders tighten when she first heard his footsteps on the dock. She turned her head, acknowledging his presence, and then went back to staring out across the Sound. He sat down Indian-style beside her and joined in her perusal of the murky water. He was going to let her take this at her own pace, even if it killed him. She needed to get whatever was bothering her out, but pushing her would only serve to barricade it further in. Six years of partnerhood, in whatever context you could define their relationship, had taught him that much about her. "Charlie and I used to spend so many nights out on the docks," she started, interrupting the increasingly oppressive silence. "It was his favorite time to fish. He thought that that was when the fish truly ran. Of course, Billy had proved to him time and again that morning was the best catch, but Charlie lived to prove him wrong." "Did it ever happen?" Mulder inquired, both interested in the story and even more intrigued by the opening up of Dana Scully. "Never," she answered with a little chuckle - one that Mulder noticed was nearly choked by tears. "But I still went out with him every night. There was nothing else to do, and it was an excuse to be outside. Plus, it was the chance at least to prove Bill wrong. I couldn't begrudge anyone of that," she finished. When nothing else followed Mulder took it as his cue to speak. He decided the circuitous route was better than direct in this instance. He'd get to the problem eventually, but decided to do a little more coaxing before taking the plunge. "Sam and I used to have our own night adventures, too," he started with his story. "We had a golf cart to get around on the island with, but Mom forbade us to take it out past sundown. Well, we'd purposely leave it outside the garage in the afternoons and then sneak back out after they'd gone to bed at night." He looked over at Scully and noticed that her eyes were on him, following the story. He looked back out to the water and continued. "There was a lot of construction on the island at the time, and the workers weren't always that friendly. So Sam and I hatched this plan. Every night we went out and knocked over as many porta-shitters as possible." He saw the corners of Scully's mouth curl up in an inkling of a smile. "Sam would just sit in the cart and giggle hysterically. One day she decided to get cocky and tried to leave me." "What happened?" Scully inquired, aware of Mulder's strategy and playing along for the moment. "She dragged me off the back of the thing and only succeeded in tearing my jeans all to hell. That's the night Mom found out and took the cart away." He let that be the end of the story and turned to see Scully's gaze focused outward yet again. They sat that way for a while, both looking out to the sea, silently begging for it to sweep the evil and torture that plagued their existence out into the inescapable depths of darkness where it belonged. Mulder's patience got the better of him and he finally looked back over at his partner. Her tears had started again, streaking twin tracks down her pale cheeks. "Scully?" he started, unable to take the silence and unknowing any longer. "I remember it all," she stated, flatly and eerily calm. "Those three months came back to me the minute I laid eyes on that file. They recorded it all, Mulder," she said, turning to face him. He could see the depths of desperation and anger that flared in her eyes. "They shot lasers into me, exposed me to radiation, and finally, they took my ova when there was nothing else left to test." Her voice began to tremble around the word "ova" and Mulder witnessed the all- out collapse when she managed to choke out the rest of the sentence. He carefully took her into his arms, pulling her more fully into his lap, and rocking her as the sobs finally came. "I saw it all, Mulder. I can still feel it," she gasped. His heart was breaking into a thousand pieces. To know that she was relieving it all was torture inherently transferred to him. She hurt, therefore so did he. "I'm so sorry," he muttered over and over to her as the tears rolled down his own face. He didn't know where exactly the words had come from, only that he felt the need to say them. The guilt that was sweeping through his own soul was almost unbearable. << I did this to her. >> "I'm so sorry, Scully," over and over amongst their sobs as his hands thread through the silk of her hair. She finally looked up into his face, and Mulder felt the guilt double back onto him as he saw the sadness that played across her delicate features. "Its not your fault," delivered softly, but assuredly, amongst the remnants of tears. "Scully, if you'd never - " The softness that stared back at him from her eyes stopped him mid-sentence. And then her hands were on his face, brushing away the tears that fell from his eyes. "It's not your fault, Mulder. They did this to the both of us. They're the one's that have to pay." "They will Scully, I promise," he answered, still mesmerized by the look in her eyes. It was the oddest combination of softness and determination. It was totally and completely Scully, her very essence held within those azure orbs. And he was so in love. Her hands were still on his face and her eyes stared back at him. Winding his fingers further into her thick hair, he brought her face up to his. Her hands crept from his cheeks back to the nape of his neck, and he felt her apply her own pressure to his head, her fingers splaying out in his hair. His forehead rested against her own, and he could feel her warm breath mixing with his. "We'll be okay, Scully." And with that he met her lips, brushing chastely against them at first, and then meeting her fully when he felt the pressure exerted by her tiny hands at the back of his head. She opened her mouth to emit a muffled groan, and he slipped his tongue into the haven of her mouth. He had to moan himself at the taste of her. It was better than he'd ever imagined, wine and garlic mixing with the distinct taste that he knew inherently belonged only to Scully. She slid her tongue up to meet his, and parried hungrily with him for what seemed like forever. As she pulled away, he couldn't help the smallest of whimpers when her hands left his hair and found their way to his cheeks. He reluctantly let go of her lips, brushing chastely against them once again as they both struggled to catch their breath. Mulder felt her body sag against his and then she moved her face away from his, tucking it instead under his chin as her nose turned to nuzzle into chest. He closed his eyes at the sweet sensation and wrapped his arms more tightly around her. They stayed like that for a time, content to just hold each other as they stared out into the Sound. Finally, Mulder's arm and back began to protest. Thinking that Scully had fallen asleep, he moved to pick her up and carry her back to the house. He got to his feet and Scully wound her arms around his neck, but her head was shaking back and forth in a negative gesture. He heard her mumbling something into his chest and pulled back to hear her. "I want to stay out here - by the water. Please. I need to be close to both of you." << Ahab. Past and present, >> he thought, remembering briefly their past conversation on a rock in the middle of a Georgian lake. Mulder nodded his consent, and she nuzzled her face back into his chest. He walked to the hammock and set her down on her feet. "At your service, Madame Scully." She smiled a weary smile and he knew that his was an equally miserable attempt. He sat down into the hammock first, swinging his legs up and scooting back so that his head was on the pillow. Scully followed suit, and then carefully turned to curl up against his side - her face fitting into the spot between his shoulder and collarbone, arm stretched across his midsection, and legs tangling with his. Mulder brought his arm up around her back, holding her close to him, while the other one stroked through her hair. He waited until Scully's breath was deep and regular, indicating that she had drifted off to sleep. Only then did he allow his eyes to close, savoring her warmth, and following her into a peaceful slumber. Chapter Eight As her mind and senses began their reluctant path to wakefulness, she could tell that someone was stroking her back, gently, up and down with the lightest of touches. Fingertips. <> A deep breath confirmed her suspicions. His scent was unmistakable. And as she opened her eyes, their situation reasserted itself in her mind. The morning sunlight was bright, only partially obscured by the large oaks that held up the hammock that they'd slept in. She closed her eyes quickly against the harsh intrusion of the morning light - and against the day that loomed before them. She let her other senses take over and paint a much more pleasurable picture. Her ears picked up the sound of the waves lapping gently against the wooden barricade, and the seagulls adding songs to grace the dawning of a new day. Her nose took in another deep breath - Mulder and salt water. And her sense of touch was seemingly the most sensitive this morning. One of his hands was running smooth lines from her neck to her waist, while the other remained buried in her hair, holding her hand gently against his chest. She tightened her arm around his waist and nuzzled his chest with her nose, wishing away the morning in hopes of staying right where she was forever. She felt him slowly tighten his arms around her, planting a kiss in her hair, in answer to her movements. "Hi there," he whispered softly. "Morning," she replied sleepily, wrapping her arms more fully around him, not intending to move from her current position anytime soon. She knew what stood before them today, and these peaceful few minutes, in the hammock, with Mulder, by the water, had to be cherished. A few minutes later Mulder finally broke the spell. "How ya feeling this morning?" "Okay," she mumbled into his shirt at first, and then turned her head to the side so he could hear her more clearly. "A little shell shocked still, but I'll make it. How about you?" "The same as you. I don't know where we go from here, Scully." "To Charlotte," she answered simply. "But Scully, what about - " "One thing at a time, Mulder," she said, cutting him off. She'd thought about their plans last before he'd come to join her on the dock. She'd watched the hardly noticeable smoke rise in snake like streams from the near- by island, and knew that any evidence that they'd once hoped to possess had either been moved out or burned. Pelican Base existed no longer. And she'd sat on the dock and watched it burn, hoping that maybe it would cost Them some time. She doubted that, but it was a helpful rationalization at the time. But two files had been salvaged - hers and Samantha's. And they would work from that, eventually. But right now, there were reunions to be had. "We know where she is, finally. Let's go find her. We both need and deserve that little bit of resolution," she finished. "You're sure?" he queried. "Yeah, Mulder. I'm sure." "You mind if I add another log or two to the fire, just for speculation's sake?" "Be my guest," she replied lazily as she stretched her neck to lie against his neck, nuzzling softly against his warm skin. She could feel his sharp intake of breath at the new sensation, and then his hands resumed their previous actions, trailing down her back and weaving through her hair. "Danny called last night from headquarters," he began, his voice shaking at first but becoming steadier with each word. "The video tape of Sam was only deposited in Mom's box three weeks ago. No prints." "So, she didn't know where Sam was," Scully reaffirmed. "I don't think so," he replied, not confident enough still to answer with a definitive "no." Scully detected the hesitation in the statement, but chose not to address it. They were both suspicious of Mrs. Mulder's involvement in the conspiracy. Mulder was certain that she knew more than she'd ever said, but to what extent she was privy to project information, was now buried along with her body on the Vineyard. "One more thing, Scully. Last night on the docks," he started and then paused. "That kiss - " "Was inevitable," she finished. "And very nice," she added with a lilt to her voice and a squeeze of her arms around him. She felt the answering pressure of his hands on the nape of her neck and the small of her back - the two places on her body that she and deemed "his" long ago. "Does that mean I can have another one?" he whispered huskily in her ear, letting his tongue linger to trace lightly against the sensitive whorls of skin. "Maybe," she teased back. "But only if you're a good FBI agent." He felt the chuckles reverberate through his chest, and she finally looked up to his face. His eyes were the darkest shade of green she'd ever seen them, and he was staring hungrily into her own set of darkening blues. "Hey, you two in the hammock," Stephanie's voice called. They reluctantly tore their eyes from each other, and turned their heads toward his aunt, who was standing on the patio. "Do you think you two can stop playing dead to the world for a few minutes and come in for lunch?" "Do we have to?" Scully yelled back in jest, effecting a petulant whine that she hadn't used in years, as her face settled back against Mulder's chest. "I don't know about you Scully, but I my stomach's not protesting her offer a bit," added Mulder. "You're stomach never protests an offer of food," Scully answered back. "And this is the real stuff too, Scully. Up and at 'em, Red." "You use that nickname one more time and you're a dead man," she replied as she untangled her arms and legs from his, swinging first one, and then the other, off the hammock. She stood and offered him her hand. "Let's go feed the bottomless pit." "Aww, come on, Scully. You know you love this bottomless pit," he teased with her, accepting her hand and getting to his feet. "Yeah, Mulder, I do." And with that she turned back to the house and started walking, all the while grinning. She could only imagine the look she'd just put on her partner's face. ****** Epilogue >>From the Journal of Fox Mulder March 21, 1998 I woke up to the most wonderful sensation of my entire life this morning - Scully. She was still sound asleep, even snoring a bit, when I made my way to consciousness on a cool March morning in a hammock by the Pamlico Sound. What a wild and tortuous ride this last week has been. I'm amazed it ended so sweetly. But only that is for the time being. >>From funeral, to discovery, to rebirth, onward toward the path of lies that stretches before us. I saw her file. I read it after lunch when she was in the shower. Seeing something in words always makes the situation more real. I am sorry to say this instance was no exception. It was all there. Detailed records of what those bastards had put her through. They used her as a guinea pig, and then put the guinea pig back in its cage with no food or water. I'd thought the cancer would be the end of it, but upon seeing and learning what I have in the last forty-eight hours, I'm more afraid now for her life then I have ever been. She escaped them. For some reason, I know that that wasn't part of the plan. And for years now, we've watched them clean up after their mistakes. She's been labeled and targeted, and though she'd kill me to hear it, I won't let them get their hands on her again. I won't make the same mistake for a third time. She's suffered so much for my sake, now I want is justice for her. But more than that, I want her to be happy. There was a smidgen of that last night as we kissed. God, that kiss. Jesus, six years of foreplay led up to that kiss. I fear though, what this all means. If we pursue this new relationship, will it put her in even more jeopardy? But the problem is, I don't know whether I can let myself be without her any more. I'm drawn to her by an acute sense of fear. Fear that I won't be able to protect her - that I'll lose her again. But, even more powerful, and perhaps more frightening, is the force of love that draws me to her. Love has only resulted in pain for as long as I've been on this earth. Until twenty-four hours ago, I actually considered the possibility that my own mother would keep the whereabouts of my sister from me. She'd managed to instill that kind of doubt in her son. What a wonderful example of love. I've always assumed pain just came with the territory. But, Scully has always assuaged my pain, be it physical or emotional, so maybe this is the kind of love I've been looking for all my life - one that can resolve the pain and replace it with true happiness. I'm worried about Scully. She awoke in my arms, seemingly happy to some degree - ready to go find Samantha and move on. But, I don't think it's going to be that easy. Scully's favorite line is "I'm fine." She just changed the words around a bit this morning. I don't doubt that she may feel a little better now that she has a truth to start from, but I could see the fear beneath the azure blue of her eyes. The memories scared the hell out of her last night, and that kind of fear doesn't vanish with a flick of the wand - or a kiss. If she works through these new memories instead of denying their existence, then I think she'll be okay. And I want to be there to help her - if she'll let me. ** >>From the Journal of Dana Scully March 21, 1998 Charlotte is definitely bigger than the last time I was here. Its amazing what a few banks can do for a town. I thought tracking down Samantha from within the city was going to be an easier task than this, but it may take a little longer than expected. Lookey, lookey. The distraction queen is back. But God, was it fun this morning. The look on Mulder's face was priceless. But I know he read the file while I was in the shower. His general disorganization led to an inevitable shift in placement from the dresser to the bed. And I knew. I can't escape this any longer. I know now, in my own precious scientific language, what exactly happened during those three missing months. I've seen it all. Felt it. And it runs like one of Mulder's inane slide shows, over and over through my head. Showing me what those bastards did to me. Did to others. All for some heinous agenda that we will likely never know the full extent of. What I read on that page shocked me. But it is what lies beyond those three months and beyond this very day, that frightens me. I have fallen victim to their "side effects" twice now. I don't know if I can survive a third. My body has already been ravaged, and my soul has been equally torn apart. Medicine and "other means" can cure my body only so far. But what is there to cure my soul? Mulder, admittedly, comes first to my mind. If I am to survive yet another bruising, I know I have to learn to let him in. But that is so hard. I fear that if I allow myself that peace, it will undoubtedly be deprived of it at some point. They'll take him from me once again or they'll use me against him. Not that they haven't already, but can I bear to have my life traded for the continued torture of his soul. It's not fair - to either of us. But, then again, maybe it is *us* that will save each other. The End * * * * * * * * * * * * * * Feedback Please: Shasta1013@aol.com Authors Notes: Lots and lots of thanks go out to my editor Jennifer. You've been great through all the plot ramblings and interruptions of "real life." I'll learn not to start this kind of stuff in the midst of midterms and papers next time. I can't wait till summer! I'd also like to thank Tiny Dancer for helping me out early on and whenever you could later. Thanks also to the Screamers who have tried to help me with the story and formatting, to JennR for putting up with me in general, and to Meg for always