Date: 31 Mar 2004 17:20:06 -0800
From: Dawn <sunrise83@comcast.net>
Subject: xfc: NEW: Blood Ties 12: By the Road We Came (11/21)
Source: atxc

Blood Ties 12: By the Road We Came (11/21)
By Dawn


Georgetown Medical
Monday
11:43 AM


"Give it to me straight."

Scully looked at the exam room door, then into Brewer's 
piercing blue eyes. "Considering what he's been through--"

"Straight, Dana. Save the bullshit for the Feds."

She folded her arms, then, recognizing the defensive body 
language, dropped them to her sides. "What do you want 
from me, Nick?"

"The truth. He's my patient, and after all we've been 
through I consider you both friends. I need to know how 
he's really doing, and not just physically."

A nurse squeezed past them and into the exam room. 
"You're going to get the same results on that blood test," 
Scully warned. "The anomalous levels of lymphocytes and 
glucocorticoids--all classic symptoms of prolonged 
exposure to a weightless environment."

Nick rubbed the back of his neck. "Give me a break, Dana. 
You two have knocked enough dents into my worldview 
for one day. And don't change the subject."

"I think you can guess how he's doing, Nick. The x-rays, 
the MRI--the evidence speaks for itself. For three months 
they systematically tortured Mulder. The physical marks 
may have healed, but not the wounds to his spirit." She 
shook her head. "Lack of appetite. Nightmares. Panic 
attacks. Every time he regains a memory the backlash is 
more intense, the repercussions more severe."

"Sounds like textbook PTSD. He's got to talk to someone, 
Dana."

"I'm not the one that needs convincing. You heard him."

"Yeah. Hate to say it, but he's got a point. Your average 
shrink is going to reach for the commitment papers five 
minutes after Mulder starts talking."

"Which leave us right back where we started. How do we 
get him the help he needs without--"

A cry of panic and a shrill scream filled the air. The clatter 
of metal and crash of broken glass immediately followed. 
Scully and Brewer bolted for the exam room.

Glass crunched and popped under Scully's feet as she ran 
into the room. A metal tray dangled from a shattered 
cabinet door. Reduced to shards, hypodermic needles and 
glass vials lay glittering on the floor. The nurse shivered 
and pressed herself against the wall. Blood oozed through 
her fingers as she pressed them to her nose.

"He's crazy," she sobbed, swiping at mascara-tinted tears 
when Brewer crouched down beside her. "He was a little 
freaked when I gave him the injection, but he went ballistic 
when I tried to draw blood--yelling, throwing things. He 
*hit* me, knocked me down."

"Calm down, Traci. You're all right."

"You didn't tell me he was dangerous. He belongs upstairs, 
not down here with..."

Scully scanned the room. The girl's sobs and Nick's 
soothing reassurances faded to the background. Small as 
the area was, moments passed before she spied him, folded 
up in a corner behind a crash cart and a rack of medical 
supplies. Knees clasped to his chest, head buried in his 
arms, he rocked back and forth.

"Mulder?"

Keeping her movements slow and deliberate, she got down 
on the floor and eased herself into his personal space, 
talking quietly in soothing tones.

"Mulder, it's me. You're all right. You're safe. No one is 
going to hurt you."

Mulder tightened his arms, rocking faster. He shook his 
head without lifting his face from its protective cradle. 
"Leave me alone. I know you're not her. Just...just leave me 
alone."

"Mulder, listen to me. I--"

"NO!"

She recoiled, scrambling back a few feet, but Mulder 
simply clamped both hands over his ears. He trembled, 
teeth chattering. "Please, stop. I can't...No more. No more."

Nick touched her shoulder and crouched down. "Traci went 
to get cleaned up. I convinced her we shouldn't call 
security. Am I wrong?"

"No! The last thing he needs is a stranger manhandling 
him, Nick. It would push him over the edge."

"Not a far trip from where I'm sitting." Despite his harsh 
words, Nick's eyes radiated concern. "Dana, you have to 
get him calmed down. I can't keep people out of here for 
long, especially once Traci starts running off at the mouth. 
I'll get a sedative--"

Scully shook her head, never taking her gaze off Mulder. "I 
already considered that, but it's no good, Nick. I'm pretty 
sure needles are what triggered this episode. If I approach 
him with a syringe..."

"Shit. You're right." Nick ran his fingers through his hair 
until it stood on end. "Okay, this is your call. What do you 
want me to do?"

"Leave us alone. Keep everyone out of here for at least five 
minutes. I know I can break through to him; I just need a 
little more time."

Nick made a face. "I'm not so sure that's a good plan, 
kiddo. He's dissociative. He already took out one of my 
nurses--what if he becomes violent?"

"He wouldn't hurt me. I'll be fine." She knew it was a lie, 
but tipped her chin up, looking Nick straight in the eye.

"Okay. Five minutes. But I'll be right outside, listening. If I 
hear anything..."

"I can handle this. Trust me."

"Just don't make me sorry I did."

"I won't. And Nick? Turn off the lights on your way out."

Nick froze, halfway to the door. "What?"

"You heard me. I've got an idea. Just--"

"Yeah, yeah. Trust you." Nick held his hand over the light 
switch for a long moment before flicking it off and leaving 
the room.

The sudden darkness was disorienting. Scully waited as her 
eyes gradually adjusted. The exam room had no windows, 
but light from the hallway filtered in through a frosted pane 
in the door. Eventually she could detect the shadowy 
outline of Mulder's body and the glitter of his eyes. He'd 
ceased rocking, but she could still sense his shivering.

"What...what's happening?"

"The light is gone, Mulder. The aliens are gone. There's just 
you and me. I promise I won't let anyone hurt you."

Mulder squeezed his eyes shut. "Blood. So much blood. I 
can't--"

"It was a memory, Mulder. Just a memory. They hurt you, 
hurt you terribly, but it's over and you're safe. I'm right 
here, love. Come back to me."

Mulder's voice rasped with sorrow. "They won't let me 
go...keep bringing me back. Please...don't let them bring me 
back."

Scully swallowed, her throat tight. "They can't hold you 
any more. See? The light is gone. You're free. You're safe."

"Sc...Scully?"

Thank God. Scully inched closer, tentatively stroking her 
fingers through his hair. "I'm right here, Mulder. Right 
here."

He reached up and latched onto her hand with a bone-
crushing grip. "I can't go back in there, Scully."

"Shh. You don't have to." She tugged on his hand, 
maneuvering him into her arms.

At first it was like hugging a board--Mulder held himself 
stiffly, resisting her stroking hands and soothing words. He 
was too weak to hold out for long. Little by little he relaxed 
into her rocking, his head heavy on her shoulder.

"Sorry." He muttered the word into the crook of her neck, 
his lashes feathering against the sensitive skin. "Think I 
scared the shit out of that nurse."

Scully carded her fingers through his hair, relieved to hear 
the wry humor despite an underlying tremor. "Let's just say 
she probably won't be joining the Fox Mulder fan club."

Mulder sat up, extricating himself from her embrace. 
"There's a club?"

Damn his resiliency. He was already recovering, shoring up 
his defenses and sliding the mask firmly into place.

The door cracked open and Nick slipped inside, no more 
than a shadowy outline in the darkness. "Hey there, 
Mulder. What's the word?"

"The word?" Mulder stood up and extended an unsteady 
hand to Scully. "The word is I'm done assaulting nurses--at 
least for today." He winced at his own bitterness. "You can 
turn on the lights, Nick."

Nick flicked the switch and they all stood blinking against 
the abrupt brilliance. Propping one hip on the counter and 
folding his arms, Nick examined Mulder from head to toe. 
"You want to tell us what that was all about?"

Mulder shrugged. "You know us big, tough FBI agents. 
We're all cowards when it comes to needles."

"Oh, I'm familiar with the type. It's just that the typical 
response is to faint, not give the nurse a bloody nose."

Mulder looked away and clenched his jaw. "I'll say it again-
-you've got a hell of a bedside manner, Nick."

"Look, I'm not trying to add to what I'm sure is a 
formidable stockpile of guilt. But I won't play let's pretend, 
either. What happened just now will continue to happen. If 
you don't get help dealing with the memories, they will eat 
you alive. For God's sake, Mulder! Next time Dana might 
be the one who draws your fire."

Mulder felt the words like a blow. He looked into Scully's 
face, hating the worry lines around her eyes and mouth. 
The confession slipped out, quiet and broken. "She already 
has." 

Scully hooked her little finger through his. "Did I just hear 
a breakthrough?"

"What do you want from me?"

Nick motioned for him to sit. "Sharing what you 
remembered is a start."

*Blood, bright crimson, snaking through clear tubing and 
pooling in a large glass flask.*

The room was shrinking, and the walls pressed inward, 
stealing his breath. Mulder shrugged free of Scully's grasp. 
Wrapping his arms around himself, he paced a restless 
circle, finally settling with his back against a wall.

"I must have been hallucinating. I don't see how it could be 
a true memory."

"What triggered it? The needle?" Scully asked.

Her mild, placating tone made Mulder feel like screaming. 
Anger mixed with the panic until it was difficult to separate 
one from the other. Mulder pinched the skin under his 
fingertips, using pain to drive back dark, irrational 
emotions.

"The needle started things rolling. But it was the sight of 
blood...my blood..." He tried licking his lips but didn't have 
enough spit. "I have this crazy image of them...taking my 
blood."

Scully and Brewer exchanged glances. "It's very possible, 
even likely, you lost some blood, Mulder. Your CBC 
indicated mild anemia, which--"

"You're not listening to me." Mulder snarled the rebuke, 
startled by the force of his own anger. He pinched himself 
again, twisting hard. "They didn't take *some* of my blood. 
They took *all* of it."

Nick frowned. "But that's...there's no way you'd be--"

"I know how it sounds, damn it! But I'm telling you, the 
flashback was crystal clear. I could see it, feel it. And I 
would swear..."

*Weight on his chest. Sinking. Fading.*

As he caught himself sliding down the wall, he straightened 
his buckling legs. Scully started toward him, but stopped. 
Her entire body tensed with the strain of respecting his 
need for distance. She blinked back tears and drew a shaky 
breath. 

"What? You would swear what, Mulder?"

Oh, God, he didn't want to think about this, and he sure as 
hell didn't want to talk about it. He shook his head, denying 
Scully's urging and Nick's stunned disbelief. He knew he 
was breathing too fast, could feel the chill of 
hyperventilation tingling through his extremities, but 
couldn't stop. Looking around the room, searching for some 
kind of distraction, he saw the two syringes, one partially 
filled with blood.

His blood.

*The bright red flow slows to a steady trickle. His eyes 
slide shut, the lids too heavy to resist. Fluttering like a 
butterfly's wings, his heart races. Falters. Stills. And then 
he breaks free, soaring above the pain, the fear. Reaching 
for peace and warmth, and a brilliance more beautiful than 
his mind can comprehend. Maybe this time, he thinks. God, 
if you're really there, help me. Please, please make them let 
me go...*

"Mulder!"

He heard a sharp crack, and heat flooded his cheek. Mulder 
tumbled back into his body, gasping. He was propped 
against the wall, ass on the linoleum--again. Scully knelt 
between his legs, peering anxiously into his eyes. She 
flinched when he raised a trembling hand to his stinging 
cheek.

"Are you all right?"

God, he was tired of that question. "I'm not sure." 

"You stopped breathing." Nick crouched down beside 
Scully, who was taking his pulse and checking his pupils. 
"Scared the hell out of us. Must have been some 
flashback."

He shivered, grateful when Scully stopped playing doctor 
and warmed his icy fingers with her own. "What happened, 
Mulder?"

"I remembered some more." The images faded but 
stubbornly clung to the corners of his mind.

"Tell me."

He swallowed, his dry throat clicking. "I died, Scully. I 
died again, and again, and again."


Continued in Chapter 12

Blood Ties 12: By the Road We Came (12/21)
By Dawn


Georgetown
Monday
1:16 PM


Grey had logged onto the computer and was wading 
through 156 new emails when he heard a key rattle in the 
lock. Deleting three more pieces of SPAM, he listened with 
one ear as Dana and Fox entered the apartment.

"Go and sit on the couch, Mulder."

"I'm thirsty. Damn stuff always gives me dry mouth." 

"Here, give me those. I--" The metallic clatter of keys 
hitting the hardwood floor, followed by Dana's 
longsuffering sigh. "Mulder."

"Sorry."

"I'll get you some juice. Just go sit down before you fall 
down."

Grey swiveled in his chair, watching his brother walk to the 
couch. He moved slowly and deliberately, as if 
concentrating on each step.

"Hey. How was the appointment?"

Fox listed a little to the left as he turned and sank into the 
cushions. He dropped his head onto the back of the couch. 
"Eye-opening." He smirked, the corners of his mouth 
turning up.

Okaaaay. Grey regarded the relaxed sprawl and serene 
demeanor. If he didn't know better... He leaned closer and 
peered into his brother's eyes. Sure enough, the pupils were 
abnormally dilated.

Dana emerged from the kitchen, carrying a tall glass of 
apple juice. She placed it into Fox's hand, steadying it 
before she let go. Meeting Grey's inquisitive stare, she 
subtly shook her head.

"I saw that." Fox sipped his juice, gaze moving between the 
two of them. "Just because I'm stoned doesn't mean I'm 
oblivious."

Grey frowned. "You're stoned?"

"Oh yeah."

Grey looked at Dana. "What the hell happened?"

"Standard procedure for any patient who assaults his 
nurse." Mulder saluted with his glass and apple juice nearly 
sloshed over the rim.

Scully rescued it and set it on the coffee table. "I think Nick 
was a little heavy handed with the Valium."

Mulder grinned goofily. "Good stuff. Even my bones are 
relaxed."

"Could we please go back to the bit about the nurse?" Grey 
didn't disguise the edge in his voice.

"I had a little flashback. No, wait--strike that. Biiiiig 
flashback. A 'somebody call the guys in the white coats' 
flashback." Mulder snuffled a laugh.

"While you were at the hospital?"

"Knocked Nurse Nancy clear across the room. Bet she 
didn't expect that when she came to work this morning. 
Nursing: It's not just a job, it's an adventure."

Grey recognized the guilt lurking beneath the sarcasm. "Is 
she all right?"

Dana sat beside Fox, resting one hand on his leg. "*Traci* 
is fine, more shaken up than anything. Nick calmed her 
down, explained the situation."

Mulder threw an arm over his eyes. "Probably something 
along the lines of 'Don't mind him. Ever since he was 
abducted and tortured by aliens he just hasn't been 
himself.'"

"Mulder."

"Sorry."

Dana tugged his arm away from his face. "You are 
traumatized, Mulder. Not crazy. There's a big difference."

Fox blew out a long breath and looked at her with ancient 
eyes. "Somehow I don't think Traci sees it that way."

"Considering what you think happened--"

"Not think. *Know*."

"--your reaction is perfectly understandable."

Grey raised his hand. "Yoohoo. Remember me? The guy 
who couldn't buy a clue?"

Dana looked at Fox, who extended his hand. She pursed her 
lips and thought for a moment before speaking. "Mulder 
remembers them taking his blood."

"What, like vampires?"

Mulder snickered. "He's come such a long way, hasn't he, 
Scully? I'm so proud."

Dana glared at him. "More like the Red Cross."

"Except the Red Cross generally doesn't drain you dry." 
Mulder yawned hugely, eyelids drooping.

"Drain you..." Grey trailed off. "But taking all your blood 
would kill you."

"Give the man a cigar," Mulder mumbled, closing his eyes.

"Fox?"

"I died, Grey. Many times."

Grey looked at Scully. "How could that be?"

"How can we possibly guess what they're capable of? From 
what we've seen, they can run circles around us 
technologically. And, if we're to believe even a fraction of 
the abduction accounts, they've been experimenting on 
humans for years."

"Using humans as guinea pigs is one thing. But bringing 
them back from the dead?"

"I understand the finality of death, Grey, it's in my damn 
job description. For God's sake, we're talking about my 
husband! Do you think this is easy for me?"

Grey mustered a weak smile. "I see your point." He took a 
deep breath. "So you believe Fox is right? That this 
flashback was a recovered memory?"

"It explains the x-rays, the MRI. It makes no sense that 
Mulder survived such massive trauma."

"Because he didn't." Grey rubbed the back of his neck, 
unable to soothe the tension. "Dear God, Fox, no wonder 
you needed the Valium. I could use a hit myself."

"He dropped off a moment ago." Smiling, Dana stroked a 
lock of hair from Mulder's eyes. "He really needs a 
haircut." She stood and collected the half-filled glass of 
juice. "I don't know about you, but since Valium's not an 
option I think I'll take a cup of coffee."

Grey hauled himself upright. "You just going to leave him 
like that?"

"Leave him this moment of peace, Grey. Knowing Mulder, 
he won't be out for long."

Grey sat at the kitchen table, watching Scully set up the 
coffee maker. She moved with competent efficiency, 
shoulders straight hands busy. He propped his chin on one 
fist and studied her from the corner of his eye.

"Want to tell me about it?"

Dana faltered, spilling coffee grounds on the counter. "No," 
she said, reaching for a sponge.

"Why not? Dana, I can see this scared the hell out of you. 
Talk to me."

She didn't move for a moment, then dropped the sponge 
into the sink. After taking a long look into the living room, 
she joined Grey at the table. Leaning in close, she pitched 
her voice just above a whisper.

"This was worse than anything we've seen so far. He was 
out of it for at least five minutes, Grey. I was terrified 
someone would call psych services and he'd wind up 
admitted. Thank God, Nick keeps a calm head in a crisis."

"What provoked this? Were you there when it happened?"

"Nick wanted a blood sample."

"Oh, God."

"We'd stepped into the hallway to talk. I saw the nurse go 
into the exam room, but it never occurred to me--"

"Of course it didn't. We both know flashbacks are highly 
unpredictable."

"By the time I got back into the room, the nurse was on the 
floor and Mulder was huddled in a corner babbling about 
blood and begging 'them' to stop." She bit her lip, her eyes 
misting with tears.

"How did you break through to him?"

"Luck, mostly. I figured the environment was contributing 
to Mulder's delusion--the medical equipment, the smells, 
the bright lights. So I asked Nick to turn out the lights and 
sent him out of the room."

Grey sat up straight. "The light! That's how they 
immobilized him."

Dana nodded. "Once the room was dark and we were alone, 
he snapped out of it."

"Did Brewer have to sedate him? I hate seeing him like 
that."

"After the flashback, when Mulder was telling us what he'd 
remembered, it triggered some kind of panic attack."

"Like the one in the elevator?"

"Worse. Much worse."  She pressed her fingers against 
trembling lips. "He stopped breathing, Grey."

He shivered, goosebumps tingling his skin. "Stopped?"

"Just for a few seconds, but--"

"Dana, there's no 'just' to not breathing." Grey got up and 
rummaged through the cupboard for two mugs. He poured 
the coffee with unsteady hands and gave one to Dana.

"What are you thinking?" she asked as he gulped down the 
hot brew.

"I'm thinking I'd like to string the little bastards up and give 
them a taste of their own medicine." When she didn't 
respond, he returned to the table. "What are you thinking?"

"That we've only seen the tip of the iceberg. That things 
will likely get worse before they get better." She tipped her 
chin up. "And that I will *not* lose him to this."

God, she was so much like Kate. Strong. Stubborn. 
Tenacious as hell when it came to protecting the ones she 
loved. 

"I'm right there with you, darlin'."

"At least something positive came from the whole mess. I 
think Mulder finally realizes he needs help."

"Sometimes you have to hit bottom before you realize how 
far you've fallen."

"Sounds like the voice of experience."

Grey rolled the cup between his palms. "When Kate died, 
I...lost myself for a while. I suppose it was inevitable. For 
months I'd eaten and rested just enough to keep 
functioning. Taking care of Kate, being there for her in 
every way possible, had become my whole life. And then 
she was gone, and I felt as if a big piece of me went with 
her."

Dana rested her hand on his arm. "Your partner used the 
word 'decimated.' He said he feared you might never pull 
out of it."

"It felt as if I'd fallen into a deep hole. I could see light up 
above, but it was too far away and I was too damn tired to 
climb back out. Mark and the other guys at work, my 
family--they tried everything they could think of to reach 
me. But it wasn't enough. I just kept falling."

"What happened?"

A memory flickered through his mind--waking up on the 
bedroom floor surrounded by old photos and empty beer 
bottles, a headache pounding behind his eyes, a terrible 
taste in his mouth, and his gun clutched in one hand. 
"Probably the same thing that happened to Fox--I scared 
the hell out of myself. I finally had to acknowledge how 
deep I'd gotten."

He sighed, grinding the heel of one hand into his eye. "I 
started attending a support group for people who'd lost 
loved ones to cancer. And I quit shutting myself off from 
friends and family." He chuffed. "Well, I tried."

Dana squeezed his arm. "I'm glad you turned things around. 
And that they got better."

"I'll be honest with you, Dana. Things didn't get better--not 
at first. For a very long time the only thing getting me out 
of bed each morning was pigheaded stubbornness." He 
smiled. "And knowing Kate would've kicked my ass six 
ways to Sunday if I'd given up."

Dana sipped her coffee, smiling around the rim of the cup. 
"Well, the stubbornness seems to be hereditary. And I think 
the two of us can provide the ass kicking."

"Got that right." Grey sobered. "All I'm saying is that we 
shouldn't set the bar too high. After what Fox has gone 
through...well... Let's just say running is highly overrated. 
Sometimes just putting one foot in front of the other is a 
major victory."

"You know, you..."

The phone trilled, cutting off her reply. Scully grabbed for 
the receiver, catching it on the second ring.

"Hello?" She stiffened her spine, turning her full attention 
to the caller. "You did?...Are you sure?...What do you 
mean, Langly *thinks* --either it is or it isn't..."

Fox appeared in the doorway, rumpled and glassy-eyed. 
"Who's Scully talking to?"

"Sounds like Byers or Frohike."

"Byers and Frohike don't sound anything alike."

"Uh...yeah. Why don't you come and sit down?" Grey 
nudged a chair from the table with his foot, keeping an eye 
on his brother and an ear on Dana.

"All right. All right! I'll be there in a few minutes...Yes...In 
your dreams, Frohike."

Well, that answered that question.

Scully hung up and looked at Mulder, slumped in his chair. 
"That was the guys. They've been playing with that funny 
rock you found, Mulder, and they think they've figured out 
what it is. I'm going over there now."

Mulder caught her arm as she stood, much of the sleepiness 
fading from his eyes. "You said they figured it out. What is 
it?"

"They're speculating, Mulder. You know those three--
Langly still thinks metal detectors are--"

"Scully. What is it?"

She searched his face, uncertain. When he stared back at 
her, fingers tightening, she sighed. "They say it's a tracking 
device, Mulder. That it called the ship that abducted you." 


Continued in Chapter 13

Blood Ties 12: By the Road We Came (13/21)
By Dawn


Lone Gunmen Headquarters
Monday
2:59 PM

Scully shut off the engine but didn't move, staring out the 
window at the Gunmen's scratched and pitted door. Curling 
her fingers more tightly around the steering wheel, she 
sighed and slowly turned toward Mulder. He was out cold, 
his head pressed against the passenger window, breath 
fogging the glass.

"Are you okay?" Grey braced his arms on the seatback, 
frowning.

"No." She couldn't tear her eyes from Mulder's face--pale, 
gaunt, but peaceful. "I don't think I'm going to be okay for 
quite some time."

Grey squeezed her shoulder, his long fingers massaging 
tense muscles. "One foot in front of the other, darlin'. " He 
got out of the car but leaned back inside. "You'd better 
wake Sleeping Beauty or I'm gonna get an armful when I 
open his door."

"In your dreams, Bubba." Mulder sat up, wincing, and 
rolled his shoulders.

Grey tugged open Mulder's door. "Well, hey there, Fox. 
Nice of you to join us."

Mulder rubbed a hand over his face. "Water?"

Scully pulled a bottle from the cup holder. He drained half 
the contents and replaced the cap, smirking a little at Grey, 
who was shuffling his feet and rubbing his hands.

"Either he's really got to pee or he's freezing his ass off. 
Either way, we'd better go."

Mulder leaned against the side of the building and listened 
to the shotgun pop of disengaging locks, bemused that he 
found such a paranoid sound comforting. The door finally 
swung open and he followed Scully inside. 

"Hey, Hickey. Long time no--" His glib greeting cut off in 
a grunt as Frohike grabbed him in a bear hug.

"Mulder. Thought we'd lost you, buddy."

The genuine emotion in the man's voice made Mulder's 
throat hurt. Blinking stinging eyes, he awkwardly patted 
Frohike's shoulder. "How many times do I have to tell you, 
Melvin? Not in front of Scully."

"Hey, look who's here! Mulder, my man. You look 
like...crap. Ow!" Langly rubbed his side and glared at 
Frohike. "What was that for?"

"You look like crap?"

"He does!"

Byers stepped around his bickering friends and clasped 
Mulder's hand. "Welcome back, Mulder. Things weren't the 
same without you."

Mulder returned the pressure. "That's supposed to be a 
compliment--right?"

"Who else was there to fuel their conspiracy theories?" 
Scully said dryly.  "Face it Mulder--you're a paranoid's wet 
dream."

"I love it when she talks dirty," Frohike moaned.

Scully rolled her eyes. "Langly? The rock?"

"Over here." Langly led them to a workbench littered with 
computers and other assorted equipment. Mulder's "rock" 
lay in one of the few uncluttered spaces. "We started 
working on it as soon as your bro' dropped it by this 
morning," he said with a nod to Grey. "First off, it's not a 
rock."

Mulder leaned over Langly's shoulder. "Not exactly a news 
flash."

"We ran a bunch of tests on the material and came up 
empty."

"What does that mean?" Grey asked.

Frohike looked at him over the top of his glasses. "It means 
it's not made from any known substance--on this planet 
anyway."

"It's harder than steel," Byers chimed in. "We took a blow 
torch to it. It didn't even get warm."

"Yeah, but it heats up when you hold it." Frohike shook his 
head. "Weirdness."

"Heats up? The damn thing nearly burnt through my palm." 
Mulder rubbed his thumb over the healed flesh.

"You're taking this well, Mulder. Gotta admit, I'd be 
freaking," Langly said.

"I'm on very good drugs."

"Cool."

"You said you think it called the ship that abducted Mulder. 
How?" Scully asked.

Langly dragged a piece of equipment closer and turned it 
on with a flick of his thumb. "This is a type of oscilloscope. 
It measures sound frequency. We borrowed it from a 
friend."

"You are probably aware that sound, put simply, is a 
vibration through an elastic solid, a liquid or a gas," Byers 
said. "Sound waves travel outward in all directions from 
the source."

Mulder nodded. "Frequency is a measure of the vibrations 
per second."

"Exactly. We express frequency in Hertz, which 
corresponds directly to the pitch of a sound. Optimally, 
people can hear from 20 to 20,000 Hertz."

"Let me guess. You're going to tell me this thing," Mulder 
gestured to the rock, "is emitting sound undetectable to the 
human ear."

"Good guess," Langly replied.

Grey frowned at the oscilloscope. "That thing's on, right? I 
mean, I can see it registering our voices. So where's the 
sound waves from the rock?"

Frohike looked gleeful. "Pick it up."

"Huh?"

"Somebody pick it up."

Scully lifted the rock. Immediately, the oscilloscope sped 
up, the display registering 30 kHz. Startled, she dropped it 
back onto the counter and the readout fell to zero.

"Wow," Grey breathed. He tentatively extended a hand 
and, after a moment's hesitation, picked up the rock. 

This time the machine jumped to nearly 45 kHz. Frohike 
whistled, shaking his head as they all stared at the reading. 
After a moment Grey released the rock and let it tumble 
back onto the bench. Hissing, he rubbed his palm.

"Damn it! That thing burns!"

"It never got hot for any of us." Langly poked the rock with 
one finger. "And our readings were around 30 kHz, like 
Scully's."

Silence, then five pairs of eyes fastened on Mulder. He 
licked his lips.

"Guess this is where I'm supposed to give it a try."

"Mulder, wait." Scully put her hand on his arm, holding 
him in place. "I'm not so sure you should touch that thing. 
If it is some kind of calling device..."

"Damn straight! We all know what happened last time," 
Grey muttered.

Mulder stared at the rock. The thought that such an 
innocuous package could conceal advanced technology 
both fueled his curiosity and sent a flicker of apprehension 
to the pit of his stomach.

"There's no other way." He looked at the others, his face set 
in a blank, emotionless mask. "We need to know--*I* need 
to know--whether this thing is responsible for landing me 
in hell. We can postulate and theorize from here to next 
week, but the only way to be sure requires empirical 
evidence."

He started forward but Scully clamped down harder. 
"Mulder."

"Scully." He searched her tired, careworn features for 
understanding. "I *have* to know."

She closed her eyes for a moment, then nodded and 
released his arm. Grey stepped aside and Mulder moved up 
to the bench. Sucking in a deep breath, he picked up the 
rock. 

*Light blinds him, tearing through his body like knives, 
pinning him in place. He sees Grey as if from a great 
distance, face deathly pale, eyes wide with shock, fear. He 
strains every muscle in his body, desperate to move, to 
touch, to grab hold of the man who has been his anchor so 
many times in the past.

"Help me!" The scream echoes in the silence of his mind. 
"Please, Grey. Don't let them take me!"

His stubborn determination actually pays off--just a twitch 
of his little finger, but the surge of hope makes his heart 
lurch. The light pulses brighter, white-hot agony erupting 
along every nerve ending like fire. Black spots explode 
across his vision, then everything goes dark.

Awareness seeps slowly into his muddled brain. White. 
Everywhere. Walls, floor, ceiling--sterile, featureless. No 
windows. No door. No clothes. Light is everywhere and 
nowhere. He stands, back pressed against a wall, head 
throbbing.

"I know for a fact I never said 'Beam me up, Scotty.'"

His voice echoes, bouncing off the walls. He shivers, 
despite the room's warmth. Wrapping his arms around his 
body he crouches down. Waiting.

He knows they're watching. Can feel eyes studying his 
every sound, every movement with cool, dispassionate 
interest. Sometimes he talks to them. Sometimes he curses 
them. More and more often, he pleads with them. It doesn't 
matter--the response is the same.

Nothing.

Time passes--he's not sure how much. There is no day, no 
night. Just the relentless brilliance of artificial light. He 
knows hunger and thirst. Shame when he breaks down and 
relieves himself in a corner. And loneliness like a cancer, 
devouring him from the inside out. Shattering his false 
bravado, stripping away his resistance.

By the time a door materializes in the wall he's desperate to 
hear a voice, see a face. Even alien.

When his captor steps inside, he gasps and stumbles 
backward, recognizing his folly. 

There are worse things than loneliness.*

"Mulder! Look at me, Mulder."

Scully's voice, sharp with fear brought him back. Mulder 
blinked and the white room melted away, sounds and 
images filtering in and replacing it. Scully's face was inches 
from his own; her rapid puffs of breath tickled his cheek. 
There was something cold and hard beneath him, and 
something warm and yielding against his back. Pain, like 
liquid fire, seared the palm of his hand.

"Mulder?"

"What happened?" He croaked the question.

Scully wilted. Mulder scanned his surroundings and found 
that he was huddled on the floor with Scully crouched in 
front of him while Grey supported him from behind. 

"You had another flashback," Scully said, checking first 
one pupil and then the other. "It started as soon as you 
picked up the stone."

Mulder slowly lifted his right hand. Blisters were already 
forming on the palm, and finger-shaped bruises encircled 
the wrist.

"Sorry." Grey's apology held a tremor. "You froze up. That 
thing was burning your hand--I had to force you to drop it."

Mulder recognized his role in this little drama and knew the 
script by heart. It was time to make a smart ass remark and 
shrug off Grey's gentle hold. 

He couldn't do it.

Reawakened memories, terrifying in their clarity, 
pummeled him like physical blows. Light. Hunger. 
Despair. Fear. Oh, God, ignorance really was bliss. He 
shuddered, squeezing his eyes shut.

Grey tightened the arm around his chest; Scully cupped his 
cheek.

"It's okay, Mulder. Just relax."

He concentrated on breathing--nice, deep, even breaths that 
filled his lungs and settled his jangling nerves. Listening to 
Scully and Grey repeat a litany of reassurances.

It's over.

You're home.

You're safe.

We're here.

After several minutes he opened his eyes and sat forward. 
Grey had climbed to his feet and extended a helping hand 
before Mulder unfolded his wobbly legs.

"Come sit on the couch, Mulder." Scully's tone allowed no 
refusal. "I need to dress that burn."

She guided him to the ratty sofa and sat beside him. Byers 
handed her a first aid kit while Langly and Frohike hovered 
nearby, looking at Mulder with an uneasy mixture of worry 
and fear.

Mulder sighed. "Guess this proves it. I really am a 'ticking 
time bomb of insanity.'" He scowled at the Gunmen. 
"Would you three lighten up? That was a joke."

Scully pulled his hand into her lap. "How about telling us 
what you remembered?"

He focused on her hands as she smoothed antibiotic cream 
over his palm and covered it with gauze. Bright, white light 
flickered at the edges of his vision, but he ignored it.

"I...ah..." He cleared his throat, realizing his mouth was 
desert dry. 

A hand holding a water bottle appeared before his eyes. He 
looked up into Frohike's concerned face before accepting it 
with a grateful nod. The little man inclined his head, a 
smile softening the grim lines around his eyes and mouth.

Mulder drank deeply, everyone's watchful eyes an 
uncomfortable reminder of another, less pleasant time. He 
bounced one leg, then the other, the all-too-familiar post-
flashback jitters earning him a frown from Scully. 

Grey perched on the arm of the couch. "It can wait, Fox. 
Take all the time you need."

He cleared his throat again. "I remembered what happened 
right after I was taken...and something else."

Haltingly, he recounted the details of the flashback. Scully, 
Grey, and the Gunmen listened without interruption, 
though their faces looked pale and strained. When Mulder 
reached the part where his captors finally showed 
themselves, he clenched his jaw.

"It was him, Scully. The alien bounty hunter. He was the 
one in charge, the first one through the door."

Scully ran her thumb over the back of his bandaged hand. 
"I guess that explains how they knew to use me against 
you."

"The bastard smiled at me." Mulder rubbed his forehead, a 
dull ache throbbing behind his eyes. "He said, 'We've been 
waiting for you, Agent Mulder.'"

He looked up in time to catch Scully, Grey, and the 
Gunmen exchanging glances. "What?"

"When you picked up the rock, the oscilloscope went off 
the scale," Scully said. "It was emitting more than 80 kHz 
and hot enough to blister your hand."

He was so damn tired, his brain sluggish and 
uncooperative. Obviously he was missing something, but 
what?

"So?"

"It didn't react that way for the rest of us. Well, your bro' 
got a little bit of a rise out of it," Langly amended. "But for 
you--dude, it went nuts."

"The device is keyed to respond to a specific body 
chemistry," Byers said.

We've been waiting for you, Agent Mulder.

Mulder tensed, eyes widening. "Mine."


Continued in Chapter 14

Blood Ties 12: By the Road We Came (14/21)
By Dawn


Georgetown
Monday
9:37 PM


"Hey." Scully watched with curved lips and tender eyes as 
Mulder shuffled across the room and collapsed onto the 
couch. The worn, navy sweatpants rode low on his hips, 
and she could see the outline of his collarbone through his 
tee shirt. With his hair tousled and pale cheeks slightly 
flushed from sleep, he looked remarkably like a toddler just 
woken from a long nap.

"Hey." He ran a hand over his face and let out a gusty sigh. 
"Where's Grey?"

"Well, when it became apparent you were down for the 
count, he headed over to Kristen's so they could get 
something to eat."

He darted a quick look at the clock. "Shit. She was coming 
for dinner tonight, wasn't she?"

"We'll do it tomorrow. The steaks will keep."

He dropped his head onto the back of the couch. "Is there a 
more worthless human being on the face of this planet?"

"Mulder."

"I thought not."

"Mulder, do I really have to say it?"

"Only if doing so gives you some intrinsic sense of 
satisfaction."

She pursed her lips, but left it alone. "Did you sleep well?"

"I didn't wake up screaming, so I guess that would be a 
yes." When Scully tensed, he reached for her hand and 
wove their fingers together. "I'm sorry. I'm just so damn 
tired of everything."

She scooted closer and he obligingly slipped an arm around 
her shoulders, resting his cheek on her head. "Mulder. You 
are the most driven person I've ever known. Do you 
remember what I once told you? About your search for the 
Truth?" She felt him smile.

"I think it involved me digging up the desert with shovel."

"Close enough." Scully slipped her hand under the tee shirt 
and stroked warm skin, her voice low and pensive. "Once 
you've set a goal, you push yourself beyond all reason to 
achieve it. That intense, obsessive focus is precisely what 
made you the best profiler in the Bureau's history. But it's 
also why you crashed and burned."

Mulder tensed. "I thought I was the one with the psych 
degree."

"You can't force this, Mulder. This isn't a conspiracy to be 
uncovered or a criminal to be caught. Your body, your 
mind--both need time to process the past three months."

He made an odd sound. Scully pulled away and looked into 
his face, reading both anger and uncertainty in the lines 
around his eyes and the tight set of his jaw. "What?" she 
asked quietly. "Mulder, talk to me."

"Maybe I don't want to process--did that ever occur to 
you?" He huffed. "Why would it? After all, Fox Mulder's 
all-consuming passion is the truth. Who could predict that 
one day he'd shuck his moral high-handedness and wish for 
ignorance?"

She stared at him. "You don't want to remember."

Mulder just evaded her eyes, his throat working.

"You think I don't understand?"

Her words hung there, suspended between them, until 
Mulder finally choked out a reply. "I'm the one who didn't 
understand."

Pieces clicked into place. Scully laid her head back on his 
shoulder. "That was different."

"How?" He sounded angry, bitter, but she knew the 
emotions were directed inward and not toward her.

"We were in a different place. We'd barely scratched the 
surface--not just of what was out there, but of what lay 
between us."

"You can justify it all you like, Scully. But the fact is I 
pushed you to remember. Hard. I was so...so *driven* to 
discover the truth, I didn't stop and think about what that 
discovery might do to you."

She closed her eyes, remembering her struggle between 
fear and the desire to please him. Mulder wanted to plow 
ahead, rock solid in his purpose, while her entire world was 
tilting crazily on its axis and she could barely keep her feet. 
Shamed by her apparent weakness, she'd wondered if 
anything scared her seemingly fearless partner.

"You'll get through this, Mulder. You've never backed 
down from a challenge in your life. This is just one more 
opportunity for you to put that tenacity to use."

His lips twitched. "Tenacity. That's a lot more tactful than 
pigheaded."

"Well, you've been back less than a week. The grace period 
hasn't expired yet."

Mulder tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, his fingers 
lingering on her cheek. "There's something there, Scully. 
Buried deep. Something... It's bad."

She kept her voice steady. "Whatever it is, we'll deal with 
it."

"Sure. We're good at dealing. Plenty of practice."

The weary reply, so close to her own thoughts of late, made 
her stomach ache. Scully traced the outline of a rib with her 
fingertips, feeling the angular hardness of bone beneath a 
thin layer of flesh. "Sometimes it feels like a lifetime, not 
just ten years."

"It's not the years. It's the mileage." Her smile at the 
familiar quote faded when he continued, "I'm tired, Scully."

"I know."

"No, I don't think you do. Scully, I don't know if..."

She gently untangled herself from his arms and sat up. 
Mulder was chewing on his lower lip, his eyes red-rimmed 
and over-bright. "Say it, Mulder."

"I don't know if I can do this anymore." 

Scully smoothed her palm up and down his thigh as she 
considered her response. Complete honesty won out.

"Neither do I." She shrugged at Mulder's raised brows. "I 
didn't sleep well the last few months. A cold bed in the 
middle of the night inspires reflection."

"About?"

"Life. Death. Whether chasing little green men and 
unmasking vast, shadowy conspiracies is worth the price."

"Grey told me you fought to keep the X-Files open."

"Because I needed Bureau resources, Mulder. And because 
it was the only piece of you I had left." 

Mulder snagged her hand and enfolded it in his. When he 
spoke again, it was with tender affection. "And what 
revelations did this soul searching produce?"

"That the personal cost of our investigations inevitably 
outweighs professional gain. That I don't give a damn about 
finding the truth if it means losing you." She took a 
calming breath, then continued. "When is it enough, 
Mulder? There's so much more you need to do with your 
life. So much more than this."

"There was a time when this work was everything, Scully. 
It was all I had."

"I know. But things have changed."

"Have they? I look at Grey, and I see the life I might have 
had--a normal job, the respect of peers, a warm, loving 
family. But no matter how hard I try, I can't picture myself 
in his shoes. And sometimes I resent the hell out of him for 
that."

"What are you saying?"

He sighed and scrubbed a hand through his hair. "I'm 
saying that while the thought of getting back into the field 
makes me break out in a cold sweat, I can't imagine doing 
anything else. That while the damn job may no longer be 
*all* I am, it's still a significant piece of *who* I am." He 
shook his head. "Basically that I'm hopelessly fucked up."

The slight tremor in Mulder's hand and the ragged edge to 
his voice convinced Scully that the conversation had gone 
on long enough. She surreptitiously slid her fingers up to 
his wrist and eyed her watch. "No, you're exhausted. We 
can discuss this later. Now is not the time to make life-
altering decisions."

He snorted. "What *is* it the time for?"

"Tea."

"*Tea?* " He jerked his wrist from her grasp, wise to the 
subterfuge. "Stop that. I'm fine."

"Yes, tea. I'm going to make myself a cup. Want some?"

"See, I would have sworn now was the time for coffee." 
Scully looked levelly at him until he broke. "Fine. I'll have 
tea." He said it with all the enthusiasm of an inmate 
marching to the electric chair.

Scully stood and smiled down at him. Reaching down, she 
fingered a tumbled lock of his too-long hair and then 
smoothed it back from his forehead. Mulder caught hold of 
her wrist and they locked eyes as he drew her down to 
straddle his lap. Scully licked her lips, warmth tingling 
through her limbs and pooling in her belly. More than three 
months...

Mulder brushed his mouth across hers, tracing her lower lip 
with the tip of his tongue and then nibbling gently. She 
sighed, winding her fingers into the hair at his nape and 
opening to him, welcoming him home. The melted 
together, kisses deep and slow and tender. Then Mulder's 
hands slipped under her sweatshirt to cup her breasts, and 
her world narrowed to the exquisite sensations of his 
tongue gliding against hers and his thumbs stroking her 
nipples. She rocked her hips, jolted back to reality when 
she realized Mulder's level of arousal didn't quite match her 
own.

Mulder broke the kiss and touched his forehead to hers. 
"Sorry. The spirit is willing..."

"It's okay." She kissed him again, exploring every nook and 
cranny in his mouth and leaving him panting for breath 
before she was finished. "It can wait."

"I can't," Mulder grumbled. "No coffee, no sex..."

She stared at the jutting lip and smoldering eyes and a lump 
filled her throat. How many hospitals, morgues, police 
stations had she haunted, hoping against hope for another 
glimpse of that beloved face? How many nights had she 
curled up alone in bed, praying next time...please, God, 
next time let it be him?

"Scully?" Now Mulder was staring at her, eyes soft with 
concern.

Scully blinked, surprised when moisture trickled down her 
cheek. She brushed the tears away with a knuckle and 
smiled. "I'm just really glad you're home."

"Me, too." He wrapped his arms around her, tucking her 
head under his chin. "One thing I do remember, Scully. 
You were the only thing that kept me going. When things 
got bad, really bad..." He tightened his arms until she was 
crushed against his chest, his rapid heartbeat thudding 
under her ear. "I knew they were messing with my head, 
that it wasn't really you. But sometimes, when I was 
whacked out with pain and sleep deprivation, I wanted to 
believe it was."

Scully turned her face into the soft, cotton tee shirt, 
breathing in Mulder's musky, comforting scent. "And 
sometimes, in the middle of the night, I'd close my eyes and 
imagine you spooned up behind me, your warmth along my 
back, the whisper of your breath on my neck."

Mulder pressed a kiss to her temple. "Did it help?"

"Not much." She lifted her head and smiled. "There's no 
substitute for the real thing."

"Hey, at least your substitute wasn't playing Dr. Mengele." 
When Scully stiffened, he grimaced. "Sorry. Guess that was 
in poor taste. I'm just whistling in the dark."

The front door creaked open, then banged shut, and Grey 
breezed into the room. "I won't be surprised if we get snow 
tonight; it's cold as a witch's elbow out there." He blinked. 
"Uh, would y'all prefer I drive around the block a few 
times?"

"Nah, have a seat. I've always been an exhibitionist at 
heart," Mulder deadpanned.

Scully punched his arm and eased off his lap. "I'm making 
tea."

Grey smirked. "Really? Must be a whole new brewing 
method."

She folded her arms. "Can I get you a cup?"

"Thanks."

He stripped off his coat and plopped down beside his 
brother. "I take it you're feeling better."

"Than what?" When Grey lifted his hands, palms out, he 
tempered the sharp reply. "Let's just say I'm better than I 
was, but not as good as I'd hoped to be. According to 
Scully, I'm a work in progress. How's Kristen?"

"She's good. She said to tell you she hopes you're feeling 
better, but if you cancel out on dinner tomorrow night she's 
taking the steak to go."

Mulder chuffed but didn't reply. They sat without speaking, 
listening to clinking glassware and thudding cupboard 
doors as Scully moved about the kitchen, humming quietly.

"What's it like, Grey? Having a normal life?" Mulder was 
barely aware he'd verbalized his thoughts.

Grey snorted, scrutinizing Mulder's face as if trying to 
gauge his sincerity. "Well, I don't know, Fox. Why don't 
you ask somebody who has one?" He shook his head. 
"What in hell gave you the mistaken impression that my 
life is anything approaching normal?"

"I make my living chasing little green men, mutants, and 
other freaks of nature. I've been shot, frozen, set on fire, 
gnawed, infected, possessed, and brainwashed. I just spent 
three months on a spaceship with alien shapeshifters that 
obviously mistook me for a human guinea pig. Hell, my 
conception was nothing but a great lab experiment." 
Mulder tipped his head back and stared at the ceiling. 
"Your life seems pretty damn normal to me."

"Fox." Much of the outrage had left Grey's voice. "My 
biological parents sent me away--gave me to another family 
like some kind of booby prize--because of a grand 
conspiracy I never really understood. I make my living 
chasing thieves, rapists, and murderers. I've been assaulted, 
shot, and nearly lost my brother to a killer with a grudge 
against me." He paused, then continued.

"I watched my wife die, eaten alive by a killer I couldn't 
stop.  All my training, all the lives I saved in the course of 
my job, meant nothing. Losing her turned me into an 
emotional cripple with commitment issues I'm still trying to 
shake." He laughed quietly. "I'm a work in progress, too."

Mulder looked at his brother. "So you're telling me it's all 
an illusion. You don't really have a normal life."

"I'm telling you no one does. Not if by 'normal' you mean 
some kind of storybook fantasy where we all wind up 
living in a house surrounded by a white picket fence, with a 
beautiful wife and 2.5 kids. Life, by its very nature, is 
abnormal." He smirked. "Yours is just farther off the scale 
than most."

"That is the crappiest attempt at reassurance I've ever 
heard." Mulder grinned in spite of himself. 

Grey shrugged. "You want deep, turn on Oprah."

They were still when Scully returned with three mugs of 
tea. She stopped, eyebrow arched. "Did I miss something?"

Mulder eyed Grey, then smiled up at her. "Just two equally 
pathetic people sharing their fractured fairy tale lives. Care 
to join us?"

She passed him a mug, smiling. "Move over, Mulder. From 
the sound of it, I already have."


Continued in Chapter 15

Blood Ties 12: By the Road We Came (15/21)
By Dawn


Bethesda
Thursday
10:28 AM


Mulder chewed his lower lip as he stared out the window, 
his face expressionless. The house was small and 
unassuming, red brick with neat black shutters, evergreens 
bracketing the front door.

Grey shifted, drummed his fingers on the steering wheel 
and then cleared his throat. "You're going to be late."

"This was a mistake."

"No, it wasn't. It's another step toward getting your life 
back."

God, he was so tired of that gentle, handle-with-care tone. 
"Don't patronize me."

"Is that what you think I'm doing?"

Grey's question finally drew Mulder's gaze from the 
building. "Not exactly, but.. I do think you and Scully 
tend to treat me like I could shatter at any given moment." 
He huffed, shaking his head. "Not that you don't have your 
reasons."

 Grey sighed, his lips curving into a rueful smile. "Look, 
I'm not trying to tell you what to do. But while it may not 
be my life, I've got a stake in it, Fox. And I don't imagine 
you're happy with the way things have been going the past 
few days."

"Gee, what was your first clue?" Mulder looked back at the 
house. "I know why you pulled chauffeur duty."

"Hey, I had to arm wrestle Dana for this privilege." When 
Mulder didn't smile, Grey sighed. "She just needed a little 
break, Fox."

"You think I don't understand? I have eyes; I see what this 
is doing to her. The flashbacks have only gotten worse, and 
I never know what's going to trigger one." He raked his 
fingers through his hair. "I can't even hold it together long 
enough to get a damn hair cut."

"Which brings us back to my original point," Grey said 
mildly. "You're gonna be late."

Mulder opened his mouth to argue, realized the futility, and 
settled for a glare. "See you in an hour."

He felt Grey's eyes follow him as he strode to the front 
door and pushed the bell. He folded his arms and waited, 
deliberately ignoring the idling engine at his back.

"Door's open! Let yourself in." A woman's voice, faint but 
cheerful.

Mulder tugged open the storm and saw that the front door 
was, in fact, ajar. He stepped into the foyer and unzipped 
his coat. To his left lay a small living room with very 
modern, glass and chrome furnishings. To his right, a short 
hallway, presumably leading to bedrooms. And straight 
ahead, the sound of rattling pans and the rich aroma of 
fresh-baked bread.

"You can hang up your coat and come on back."

Feeling more than a little surreal, Mulder followed orders. 
He peeled off his jacket and hung it on the coat rack, then 
made his way to the source of the voice--and the delicious 
smell.

The kitchen was a scene of controlled chaos--dirty bowls 
and pans overflowed in the sink and flour dusted the 
countertops not occupied with cooling loaves. Propping a 
shoulder against the doorframe, he watched as a sixty-
something woman with salt-and-pepper hair kneaded bread 
dough.

"Dr. Shanley?"

"Agent Fox Mulder. At least, I hope that's who you are. 
Otherwise I've just invited a stranger into my home." 
Smiling, she offered a floury hand, then pulled it back. 
"Guess that's not such a good idea. Have a seat, Fox. Can I 
get you anything?"

Mulder claimed a chair at the small oak table. "How about 
a different name?" At her raised eyebrow, he added, "I 
don't use Fox. Just Mulder is fine."

"Got some issues, have we, Just Mulder?" She plunged 
both hands back into the dough.

Mulder leaned back and folded his arms. "Oh, I'm a bundle 
of issues, Dr. Shanley. Didn't Dr. Verber fill you in?"

"He gave me the basics. And please, call me Tomie." 

"Excuse me?"

She chuckled. "Aye, ya heard right. Me da had his heart set 
on havin' a son ta carry on the family name. Imagine his 
surprise when wee Thomas Shanley the third turned out to 
be a she." She dropped the brogue. "I officially shortened it 
to Tomie the day I turned 21. I know all about issues, 
believe me."

She collected several loaf pans and began parceling out the 
dough. "How much have you remembered?"

The abrupt segue caught Mulder off guard. "Not enough." 
He lifted his shoulders. "Too much."

"You were missing three months?"

"So I'm told."

"You weren't aware you'd been gone that long?"

"Time flies when you're having fun."

Shanley gave him a sharp look but simply picked up the 
filled pans and carried them to the oven, a blast of hot air 
washing over Mulder as she loaded them inside. She then 
pulled a knife from a drawer and cut into a golden loaf, 
slicing a generous slab and transferring it to a plate. 
Moments later the plate, a knife, and butter were placed in 
front of Mulder.

"Coffee?"

Mulder gaped at her. "Shouldn't we be discussing 
my...issues?"

"I thought we were." Shanley took two mugs from a 
cupboard and filled them with coffee.

"So what's...?" He gestured at the food.

Placing one mug next to his plate, she sank into a chair and 
took a long draught from the other. "You looked like you 
could use it. You're skin and bones, kiddo."

Shaking his head, Mulder took a sip of coffee and tore off a 
small piece of warm, fluffy bread. "Gotta hand it to you, 
Tomie. You're not what I expected."

"It's part of my charm." She sobered. "Why are you here, 
Mulder?"

"Why are any of us here?" When she didn't let up on her 
probing stare, he sighed. "I'm here because I have to be. I 
don't have a choice."

"Bullshit. You always have a choice."

Mulder blinked. So much for the motherly aura.

Tomie leaned forward, cupping her mug between her 
palms. "When I was in college, I began experiencing brief 
periods of lost time. Holes in my memory I couldn't 
account for. Sometimes it was hours, sometimes days. I 
thought I was going crazy--becoming schizophrenic or 
developing multiple personalities or any one of half a 
dozen mental illnesses. At first I was able to cover for 
myself with lies--I was sick, I went home for a few days, I 
was visiting a friend... But after a while things got so bad I 
couldn't hide it any longer. My grades dropped, I flunked 
out of school, couldn't keep a boyfriend or a job..." She 
pursed her lips. " My family didn't know what to do with 
me. And that's the way my life went for many years.

"And then one day while watching television, I stumbled 
onto a program about alien abductees. I can still remember 
how terrified I became, listening to those people describe 
their experiences. It could have been me on that TV screen. 
I switched it off and tried to put it out of my mind. I 
couldn't.

"Eventually, I couldn't endure the mess that my life had 
become a moment longer. I connected with MUFON and 
they put me in touch with a psychiatrist who used hypnosis 
to help me recover those missing pieces."

"And you lived happily ever after."

Shanley didn't flinch at the bitterness in his tone. "Hardly. 
But I did reclaim control of my life. I accepted what had 
been done to me, and that it could happen again. Then I set 
it aside and moved on."

"So you got a doctorate in psychology in order to help other 
abductees."

"I got a doctorate in psychology to help myself. Helping 
others was just a side benefit." 

"Physician, heal thyself."

"Something like that. Look, Mulder, I'm not going to 
engage in psychological sparring matches with you. I've 
heard enough from Heintz to know I'd probably lose. If 
you're here because you're ready to deal with what 
happened, I'll be happy to work with you. Otherwise, we'll 
finish our coffee and part company."

Mulder took another bite of bread, chewing slowly. 
Delicious, yet it sat like lead in his stomach.  "I can't ride in 
an elevator or step into the closet without hyperventilating. 
I'm afraid to sleep because of the nightmares. I'm getting 
flashbacks four or five times a day, during which I've 
trashed my own bedroom, punched and damn near 
strangled my wife. Scully.." 

He bit down on the name and looked away. "I'm not going 
to let this destroy the good things in my life. I *will* deal 
with this."

"I was hoping you'd say that." Her fingers grazed the back 
of his hand. "Now, finish your bread or you'll hurt my 
feelings."

A little of the weight eased from his shoulders. Mulder 
picked up the rest of the slice. "Do you always conduct 
your appointments in the kitchen?"

"You'd rather I had you stretch out on the couch?" She 
carried his empty plate to the sink. "I'm not one for 
breaking the ice, Mulder. I much prefer a slow thaw. Now 
how about some more coffee?"

Twenty minutes later Mulder stepped out the door, a 
bemused smile on his face. Preoccupied, he'd climbed into 
the car and was reaching for his seatbelt before realizing 
that Scully, not Grey, sat behind the wheel.

"Scully? I thought you were dropping by the Hoover, 
catching up on some paperwork."

"I did. But I was having a little trouble concentrating." She 
scanned his face, a small line between her brows. "Are you 
all right?"

Mulder cupped her cheek, tracing the shadows under her 
eyes with the pad of his thumb. "That should be my 
question, shouldn't it?"

She caught hold of his hand and pressed a kiss to the palm. 
"I'm fine."

"You're exhausted. You should go to your mother's tonight, 
Scully. Get some real sleep. Let Grey play zookeeper."

She dropped his hand and put the car into gear, pulling 
away from the curb. "Mulder, I can't spend a morning in the 
office without worrying about you. What in the hell makes 
you think I could sleep any better at my mom's?"

"Oh, I don't know. The lack of screaming, maybe?"

"We've discussed this already. I'm not going anywhere." A 
car scooted in front of them and she slammed on the brakes 
with more force than necessary. She sucked in a deep 
breath and let it out slowly. "Let's start over. How was your 
session with Dr. Shanley?"

Oh, barrels of fun, he thought, but wisely restrained 
himself. "Let's just say she's not your average, run-of-the-
mill shrink." He chuffed, turning to look out the window. 
"Verber sandbagged me."

"How so?"

"He may have found the only doctor on this planet that I 
can't bullshit."

Scully raised an eyebrow. "I think I'd like to meet this Dr. 
Shanley."

"Tomie." Mulder chuckled again. "Also one of the few 
people who actually beats me in the category of most 
irritating first name."

Scully stared at him, then jerked her gaze back to the road.

"What?"

"Nothing. It's just... You're taking this amazingly well."

"Ah. You were expecting a quivering wreck, is that it?"

"Something like that."

"It's hard to get rattled over coffee and freshly baked 
bread."

"You lost me, Mulder."

"We didn't DO anything--except lay a few ground rules. It's 
all part of Tomie's diabolical strategy to take me out at the 
knees before I could fight back. Next time we meet I'm sure 
she'll show no mercy."

"Next time?"

The cautious hope in her voice broke his heart. "Yeah, next 
time. She wants to see me twice a week, for now. And she 
wants me to take these." He pulled the two prescription 
forms out of his pocket. "A sedative to help me sleep for 
more than three hours at a stretch. And an anti-depressant."

"And you agreed?"

"To the first two. The jury's still out on the anti-
depressant." When she didn't say anything, Mulder slid his 
hand onto her leg. "I'll think about it, babe. I promise."

They drove the rest of the way in silence. When Mulder 
pulled open the door to the apartment building, Scully 
paused and lightly touched his arm. "I'm proud of you, 
Mulder. I hope you know that."

Mulder guided her inside with a hand at the small of her 
back. "This from the woman who has to walk up two 
flights of stairs because her husband's terrified of the 
elevator."

"Mulder."

He silenced her with a long, deep kiss, then touched his 
forehead to hers. "You're the only thing getting me through 
this, Scully. I hope you know that."

Grey met them at the door. "Well, hey. Look who's back. 
Y'all have got impeccable timing."

Mulder frowned as he shrugged out of his jacket. "What's 
wrong?"

"What makes you think somethin's wrong?"

"Because that southern drawl of yours always gets stronger 
when you're on edge." Mulder tossed the jacket onto the 
coat tree and stepped into the living room.

He smelled him before he saw him.

Cancerman blew out a cloud of smoke and smiled. "Hello, 
Fox. My, my. I must say, I've seen you look better."


Continued in Chapter 16

Blood Ties 12: By the Road We Came (16/21)
By Dawn


Georgetown
Thursday
12:04 PM


Mulder faltered, then continued on toward the kitchen. 
"Grey, what have we told you about letting strangers into 
the apartment when Mommy and Daddy aren't home?" He 
snagged a bottle of water from the refrigerator and came 
back, leaning in the doorway while he twisted off the cap.

"Are you kidding? I wouldn't let him in if he had an 
engraved invitation. He was already here when I got 
home." Grey braced both hands on the back of the couch 
and showed Spender his teeth. "I'd be happy to escort him 
out, though. Just say the word."

Spender tapped some ash into a coaster. "Gentlemen, 
please. Is this any way to treat an old family friend who's 
merely concerned for Fox's health?"

"Spare us the melodrama." Scully stood at Grey's shoulder. 
"What do you want?"

Spender ignored her, turning to Mulder with the barest hint 
of a smile. "It's good to see you, Fox. Three months. I'd 
almost given up hope."

"Oh, you know me. I'm like a bad penny. I always turn up--
eventually." Mulder tipped back the bottle and took a drink.

"I understand you've had some difficulty recalling 
your.ordeal. Tell me, have you managed to recover any of 
those elusive memories?"

Grey snorted. "I think you've been sucking too hard on that 
cigarette, old man. You don't honestly think he's going to 
answer, do you?"

Spender blew out a column of smoke. "I'd hoped perhaps 
we could engage in a mutual exchange of information."

The bastard's smug, self-satisfied smirk pushed all Mulder's 
buttons. He set the water bottle on the counter, holding onto 
his anger with effort. "Sorry to disappoint. I'm afraid there's 
nothing you could say that I'd want to hear, so..." he 
stretched out his arm toward the door, "you obviously 
know the way out."

Spender put out his cigarette and stood. "Pity. I thought 
you'd like to know why our shapeshifting friends find you 
so fascinating."

Mulder lunged forward, catching Spender by the lapels of 
his trenchcoat. Spinning him around, he slammed the 
smoker up against the wall hard enough to make the 
pictures rattle. He leaned in close enough to smell 
Spender's stale breath. "Talk. And it better be damn good 
because I've been having problems with impulse control 
and my Paxil hasn't kicked in."

"Mulder."

Scully's voice reined him in. He glared into Spender's eyes 
for a long moment, tightening his grip until his fists dug 
into the hollow of the man's throat. Releasing the smoker 
with a flick of his wrists, Mulder took several steps 
backward and folded his arms.

Spender smoothed his rumpled clothing. "Let me ask you 
this, Fox. What *do* you remember?"

Mulder clenched his jaw. "Pain." 

"From the tests?"

"If you call breaking all my fingers a test." He scanned 
Spender's face with wary eyes. "Why?"

"Really, Fox. I'm beginning to believe you've lost your 
edge. You're aware of your father's contributions to the 
Project? His.personal sacrifices?"

Mulder gritted his teeth. "I know what he did."

"Then you must see how special you are."

Scully moved to his side, her shoulder brushing his. "Why 
don't you humor us? Spell it out."

Spender chuckled, shaking his head. "Agent Scully, you're 
more than qualified to answer your own question. After all, 
you possess not only sufficient training and intellect, but an 
intimate connection with Fox--the ultimate credential."

 Mulder looked at Scully, but she kept her attention locked 
on Spender. "You're alluding to genetic modifications 
brought about by experimentation on Mrs. Mulder when 
she was pregnant. *Unauthorized* experimentation."

"Modifications that have served you well." Spender 
smirked. "You should be grateful to us, Fox."

Mulder curled his lip. "If you're looking for thanks, you'll 
be waiting until hell freezes over."

"What were these modifications?" Scully unobtrusively lay 
her hand on his forearm, steadying him.

Spender reached for a cigarette, but Mulder blocked the 
move. "Uh-uh. This is a no smoking zone."

"The modifications?" Scully prompted.

"Perhaps you should tell me."

Scully locked eyes with Mulder, apology in her gaze. 
"Heightened intelligence, intuition, memory. Enhanced 
ability to heal."

"Very good, Agent Scully. Of course our crowning 
achievement was an increased resistance to the alien virus."

"Wait a minute, wait a minute." Grey made a time out 
motion with his hands. "You're forgetting that Fox nearly 
died from that virus. Seems to me that part of the grand 
experiment was a failure."

"Fox's genetic immunity was damaged, not absent. He 
successfully resisted the virus during his unfortunate 
adventure with Alex Krycek in Tunguska. It was his later 
exposure to the toxic chemicals on Brown Mountain that 
weakened his immunity and allowed the virus to take 
hold."

"A theory for which you have no real proof," Scully said.

"Come now, Agent Scully, you're not thinking like a 
scientist. You know that any successful experiment requires 
both a study group and a control group. After all, a result 
can't be considered significant unless it can be reproduced."

"How many?" Mulder ground the words out through his 
teeth. "How many besides Samantha and me?"

"Let's just say you're one of a very select group. I'm quite 
serious, Fox--you should be thanking us. Those 
'unauthorized experiments' are the only reason you're still 
alive."

"That's a bit of an overstatement, isn't it?"

"Hardly. Have you never wondered why you've been 
allowed to continue this tiresome quest of yours, meddling 
in things best left alone? Any other man would have been 
rewarded with a single bullet to the head and a swift 
burial."

"I'm too valuable to kill--is that what you're saying?"

Spender inclined his head.

"What does any of this have to do with Fox getting nabbed 
by the spaceship from hell?" Grey looked from Mulder to 
Scully, then glared at Spender.

*Broken bones. Cuts. Burns. Agony. "How bad is the pain, 
on a scale of one to ten?" Thick greasiness filling his eyes, 
his mouth. Crawling under his skin, burrowing into his 
brain.*

Mulder gasped as he tumbled back into his body with a 
jerk. "They know."

"What? What the hell are you talking about, and why do 
you look like the bastard just sucker punched you?" Grey 
ground the words out, his voice harsh.

"Your brother has just experienced an epiphany of sorts." 
Spender pulled out a cigarette and lit it.

"Fox?"

"They were testing the merchandise." Mulder's lips felt 
numb, his head light. "Measuring the *success* of the 
experiment."

Spender pursed his lips, blowing a plume of smoke. "We're 
understandably concerned. The genetic modifications were 
performed in absolute secrecy. They were never supposed 
to learn we had.side projects."

"Projects? You're talking about a human being, you son of 
a bitch!" Scully's grip on Mulder's hand was gentle, despite 
the fury in her words. "What will it mean for Mulder, now 
that they do know?"

"We're not talking about human beings, Agent Scully. I 
couldn't begin to guess." Spender turned to Mulder with a 
smile. "Perhaps you should have taken more care in what 
you wished for, Fox. You wanted proof of the existence of 
extraterrestrial life. Now you have it."

"That's it. He's so outta here." Grey grabbed Spender by his 
upper arms and frog marched him toward the door.

"Mulder? Mulder, you need to sit down."

Scully guided him to the couch and seated him with a 
gentle shove. She disappeared and returned a moment later, 
pressing the partially consumed water bottle into his hand.

"Drink this."

Mechanically, he did as instructed, sipping water and 
staring blankly into space. His thoughts a twisted jumble of 
confusing images and emotions, he only distantly registered 
the slam of the front door and Grey's return.

"Is he okay?"

"No. He's not 'okay.'" Mulder tipped his head back and 
regarded his brother. "That Bill Mulder was a helluva a 
father, wasn't he? He certainly left me an inheritance I'll 
never take for granted."

Grey winced at the bitterness. He eased onto the arm of a 
chair with stiff, correct posture that was incongruous with 
his usual careless sprawl. "Don't let that bastard get to you, 
Fox. You can't trust a word from his lying mouth."

"He wasn't lying, Grey. Not this time." Mulder's fingers 
curled into fists where they rested on his thighs.

"He said it himself--he can't guess their intentions. How 
can you be sure--"

"Because I was there!" Mulder spat out the words, lunging 
to his feet. He paced to the window, catching a glimpse of 
Spender as he drove away, smoke trailing from his partially 
lowered window. "They went fishing for me with that rock 
and I took the damn bait. Everything they did to me was 
calculated. Methodical. All designed to test out the new 
model, from breaking my fingers, to infecting me with the 
black oil." He scrubbed a hand over his gritty eyes. 

"You didn't mention anything about the oil." Scully's tone 
held worry and not reproach.

Weariness slammed into him, leaving his hands shaking 
and his legs weak. Mulder turned around, "I didn't 
remember until now."

"You can't jump to conclusions, Mulder. What they put you 
through was horrific, but they sent you back. They may 
have the answers they sought. We've been given no reason 
to believe they'd take you again."

"Scully, the Files are littered with accounts from multiple 
abductees. Dwayne Barry. Max Fenig. Cassandra Spender. 
We've been given no reason to believe they won't."

Mulder returned to the couch, collapsing onto the cushions. 
"I never wanted to hate him. I made excuses for him, 
blamed myself because it was easier to believe I'd screwed 
up than to admit my own father didn't give a damn about 
me."

Grey leaned forward. "Except he did, Fox. I swear to God, 
he did. It's just that for some crazy, screwed-up reason he 
could tell everyone but you."

"He turned his son and daughter into science experiments, 
Grey. If that's love, then he had a funny way of showing it."

"Maybe not."

Scully's soft interjection drew their attention. Mulder raised 
his eyebrows. "Really? Then explain it to me, Scully. 
Because right now he's not getting my vote for father of the 
year."

"I agree that what he did was wrong. I just think you should 
keep an open mind as to his motivations. Mulder, they were 
operating under the shadow of impending colonization. 
Your father saw the big picture, was aware of the risks. 
Maybe Strughold convinced him that cooperating in the 
experiments would ultimately be a gift to his children. 
Maybe it was his misguided way of protecting you."

Mulder stared at her for a long moment, then shook his 
head. "I wish I could be as optimistic as you. But from 
where I'm standing, it's an awful shitty gift." He dropped 
his head onto the back of the couch, blinking up at the 
ceiling. "I'm tired, Scully. And I don't want to talk about 
this anymore."

Scully tapped his leg as his eyes started drifting shut. "Not 
yet, Mulder. You haven't had anything to eat since early 
this morning."

He covered his eyes with the crook of his elbow. "I'm not 
hungry."

"Just some soup, then, and a few crackers. I've got some of 
Mom's--"

"I *said* I'm not hungry."

"You have to eat. You're too thin, Mulder. Remember what 
Nick said? You can't afford to skip meals."

Mulder snatched down his arm and glared at her. "God, I 
am so tired of everyone thinking they can run my life! You 
tell me when to eat, when to sleep, when to talk--I'm 
surprised you're not scheduling when I can take a piss." 

Scully flushed. "You think this is fun for me? Do you have 
any idea what it's like watching someone I love go through 
hell, how utterly powerless I feel? I can't take away your 
pain, stop the flashbacks, or even replace those thirty 
pounds. I wish to God I could, but I can't." She pressed the 
back of her hand to her lips, steadying herself. "I can make 
soup. Or drive you to the doctor. Or hold you when the 
nightmares get bad. It may not mean much to you, but it 
means a hell of a lot to me."

"C'mere." Mulder enfolded her resistant body. Tucking her 
head under his chin, he stroked his fingers through her hair. 
"It means everything to me, Scully. Don't ever doubt it. I'm 
just being a pain in the ass."

Grey snorted. "Like that's a news flash."

"Don't you have something to do?" Mulder asked dryly.

Grey stood and hooked a thumb toward the kitchen. "How 
about I heat the soup?"

"Refrigerator," Scully said. "Third shelf."

Grey offered up a mock salute and disappeared.

Mulder tightened his arms, gratified when Scully's curled 
around his waist. The feel of her soft skin, the smell of her 
hair, loosened the knot that had formed in his stomach the 
moment he'd seen Spender sitting in the living room like he 
owned it.

"I do know what it's like, Scully."

He sensed her frown; felt the subtle contraction of muscles 
where her face pressed against his chest. "What are you 
talking about?"

"You asked if I knew what it was like to feel powerless 
while someone I loved went through hell. I do."

She was still for a moment, then her body tensed. "My 
cancer."

"I watched the disease slowly suck the life from you. You 
were dying, and I couldn't do a damn thing about it. I 
would have done anything to save you."

She sat up and looked into his eyes, bringing her hand up 
and cupping his jaw. "And you did. I'm alive because you 
never gave up." She brushed her thumb across his cheek, 
her smile fading. "I'm afraid I can't produce a miracle, 
Mulder. Much as I wish I could."

Mulder brought her hand to his lips. He pressed a kiss to 
the palm, then gave her a crooked grin. "You're here. 
You've put up with a pain in the ass for ten years. Babe, if 
that's not a miracle, I don't know what is."


Continued in Chapter 17

Blood Ties 12: By the Road We Came (17/21)
By Dawn


Bethesda
Monday
10:32 AM


Mulder raised an eyebrow. "Now it's cookies?"

Tomie waved him into the kitchen and picked up another 
egg. She tapped it sharply against the rim of the mixing 
bowl and pulled the two halves apart with deft fingers. 
"You're a psychologist, Mulder. Surely you recognize my 
clever use of a non-threatening environment."

Mulder chuckled and shook his head. "Tomie, as far as I'm 
concerned, everything about you is threatening." He 
bypassed the chair she indicated and prowled along the 
spotless, butcherblock counter.

Tomie watched him from the corner of her eye, her hands 
never faltering as she made quick work of two more eggs. 
"That's good, isn't it? Complacency rarely encourages 
growth."

Mulder picked up an apple and juggled it. "I'm here to 
grow? And all this time I thought it was for the PTSD." He 
set down the apple and moved on to a set of canisters, 
lifting lids and peering inside. "You're out of flour."

"Since you brought it up--"

"The flour?"

"Have you been taking the meds I prescribed?"

Mulder turned and leaned against the counter. "Why bother 
asking me? I know you talked to Scully."

"She's worried about you. She said you've been on edge, 
that you can't sit still for more than five minutes and you're 
not sleeping." Tomie looked pointedly at Mulder's tapping 
foot. 

Catching the hint, Mulder pushed away from the counter 
and dropped into one of the wooden kitchen chairs. "I sleep 
when I take the pills."

"But not through the night."

"Four or five hours. That's double what I'd been getting."

"It's still not enough, and you know it. Maybe you're 
resistant to the Xanax--I'll give you a new prescription 
before you leave today."

Tipping backward, Mulder balanced the chair on two legs. 
"You're the doctor."

Tomie plopped the mixing bowl onto the table in front of 
him and handed him a wooden spoon. "Here. I may as well 
harness some of that excess energy."

Mulder stared at the spoon, then began whirling it through 
the mixture of eggs, milk, and butter. "Don't you have an 
electric mixer?"

Tomie pulled out several cookie sheets and turned on the 
oven. "Mixers are for wimps. Besides, stirring is 
therapeutic. Gives you an outlet for all that bottled up 
anger."

"I'm not angry."

She gave him a long look and put the milk back in the 
refrigerator.

"I'm not."

Tomie braced her palms on the table. "That is utter bullshit, 
Mulder."

Mulder stopped stirring and looked up at her, smirking. 
"Don't mince words, Tomie. Tell me what you really 
think."

"They stripped you of your humanity, treated you as an 
object to be manipulated and controlled at whim. They 
tortured you--physically, mentally, emotionally--and they 
used your wife to do it. Now if that doesn't make you 
madder than hell..." She shook her head. "You've got 
bigger issues than just PTSD."

"Maybe I'm just too tired to be mad. I've spent the past ten 
years of my life in a haze of self-righteous anger, and what 
has it accomplished? The abductions, the tests, the plans for 
colonization continue, and I can't do anything to stop 
them."

"Children are alive right now because of your self-
righteous anger."

Mulder snapped his head up and studied her face. "You and 
Scully had quite the little chat."

"I watch the headlines, Mulder. Particularly when they 
involve unexplained disappearances. Dana just filled in the 
blanks." She took the bowl from his hands. "Those children 
would be dead if you hadn't come up with an effective 
treatment."

"Damage control. We've got a finger in the dyke; the wall 
is still crumbling." 

He shoved back his chair and began pacing. "The 
abductions are just the warm-up. They intend to colonize 
this planet, and those of us who survive will wind up 
slaves--or worse yet, incubators for their young. And the 
aliens have the power elite of this planet on their side. The 
very people who block me at every turn have been 
collaborating with them to save their own sorry asses.

"I can't tell you how many times I've been this close, *this* 
close to obtaining solid proof, only to have it snatched from 
my grasp. Well, I'm damn tired of it, of spinning my wheels 
and going *nowhere*. How am I supposed to save a 
planet? Hell, I couldn't even save myself!" 

Moments passed before the silence pulled at him. Mulder 
realized he was standing in the middle of the kitchen, fists 
clenched, breathing hard. Tomie sat at the table, watching 
him. To Mulder's supreme irritation, she looked mildly 
amused.

"What?"

"I was just thinking--it's a good thing you're not angry."

"Very funny."

"Not really." Tomie cradled the mixing bowl against her 
body, stirring the batter with smooth, efficient strokes. 
"Mulder, you and I both know that putting this experience 
behind you will take more than recovering a few lost 
memories. You must acknowledge and accept the emotions 
that go along with them. Anger, fear, guilt--the feelings 
themselves aren't negative, they just need a healthy outlet."

"Sounds like a lot of psychobabble to me."

"Some psychobabble has validity, kiddo." Tomie stood and 
walked over to the counter. She took the lid off a canister 
and sighed. "You're right; I am out of flour. There's a five-
pound bag on the shelf in the cellar. Mind sparing an old 
lady's legs?"

Mulder rolled his eyes but headed for the door. "Those old 
legs of yours manage to kick my butt fairly efficiently."

"Down the steps and to your right."

Mulder flicked on the light and descended four steps, 
pausing when the walls began closing in. Pressing one hand 
to the cinderblock, he forced himself to take deep, slow 
breaths. Turning his head, he focused on the bright spill of 
light from the sunny kitchen and the soft sounds Tomie 
made as she puttered about.

*Get a grip. You're a little old to be scared of the dark.*

Four more steps and he'd reached the bottom. The cellar 
was small but clean, its cement floor neatly swept and the 
walls freshly painted. Shelves filled with labeled boxes, jars 
of homemade preserves, canned vegetables, and staples like 
sugar, flour, and rice lined the walls.

He quickly scooped up the flour and made for the stairs. He 
had one hand on the railing when an object toward the back 
of the room caught his eye and he froze, mouth dry.

Oblong, about five feet in length and three feet high. A 
freezer, he told himself firmly. Just an extra place to store 
meat, ice cream, TV dinners. Nothing threatening could be 
found in white enamel, a hinged lid, a few lights and 
dials..

He stared at the glowing, amber light and his stomach 
turned over. What...?

*Agony. Everywhere. Coughs tear through his body, 
leaving warmth on his chin and copper in his mouth. 
Hands...pulling, dragging, lifting. Dark. Walls pressing 
inward. Can't move, can't...out! Let me out. A coffin. Buried 
alive. Oh, God, not again...*

The bag of flour smacked the floor and burst open, 
spraying a cloud of white dust into the air.

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

"Where is he?"

Scully stepped into the foyer, turning her head as she 
searched for some sign of Mulder. Grey laid a steadying 
hand on her shoulder.

Tomie shut the door and moved in front of them. "He's all 
right, Dana. I gave him a hot drink and something to help 
him relax. I know you're both anxious to see him, but I 
need to talk to you first."

"Okay." Scully folded her arms, tamping down her urge to 
shove the woman aside. She'd been halfway between the 
Gunmen's place and the Bureau when Grey had called her 
cell phone. In the thirty minutes required to collect him and 
drive to Tomie's house her threadbare patience had 
unraveled completely. 

"First, let me repeat--he's all right. I didn't ask you both to 
come because he was in trouble." 

"It sure as hell didn't sound like he was doing so great when 
you called," Grey said.

Tomie smiled at him. "I said he was all right, not great. We 
had a rough time of it for a while there. He was in a bad 
way--completely dissociative for more than twenty 
minutes. But I'm fairly confident we've weathered the worst 
of the crisis."

"You said he had a flashback. He remembered something?" 
Scully studied Tomie's face, looking for any hint that the 
doctor was keeping something from her.

Tomie nodded, compassion crinkling her eyes. "Quite a 
large something. In fact, I have a feeling this particular 
memory has been acting like a cork, if you take my 
meaning. The trauma his mind couldn't accept, that 
triggered the protective amnesia he's used to bottle up all 
recollection of his experience."

"He's told you the details?"

"He blurted out snips and pieces during the flashback, but 
nothing since. He wanted you two to be here first. He said 
he has no intention of going over it more than once."

"Then let's get started." Scully took one step forward, 
halted by Tomie's upraised hand.

"I'm not finished, sweetheart."

She bristled a little at the endearment. "Can't this wait? 
Considering what he's just been through, I don't think it's 
wise to leave him alone."

"He needed a few minutes to pull himself together. And I 
need a few to prepare you before you see him."

"Tomie, he's my partner and he's my husband. You can't 
even begin to imagine what we've been through together. I 
think I know what to expect."

"Humor me."

Scully pressed her lips tightly together, but motioned for 
Tomie to continue.

"He may seem disturbingly calm. Indifferent, even. Don't 
let his detachment throw you. The sedative I gave him is 
bound to dampen any emotional response, but he's also 
insulating himself from a highly traumatic revelation."

Tomie waited for a nod from each of them, then continued. 
"And then there's the issue of his hands."

Scully stiffened. "His hands?"

"They're a bit worse for wear. His was in my cellar when 
the flashback came on. By the time I got down there he'd 
backed himself into a corner and was...clawing at the walls. 
Nothing is broken, but he bloodied his fingertips and peeled 
back a couple nails before I stopped him."

"What in the hell was he doing in your cellar?"

"I was in the middle of a batch of cookies. I'd sent him 
down for a bag of flour."

"You sent him down there alone, knowing what he's been 
going through? The flashbacks, the panic attacks--the man 
still can't get into an elevator, for God's sake! Was that 
supposed to be your idea of therapy?"

"Dana." Grey touched her arm, the slight shake of his head 
a gentle rebuke.

"You of all people know flashbacks can occur anytime, 
anywhere. In this particular instance I don't think it was 
either the dark or the enclosed space that triggered Mulder's 
memories--though I've no doubt they were contributing 
factors. 

"But the answer to your question, Dana, is yes. That is my 
idea of therapy. I've never denied my methods are a bit 
unorthodox--in fact, I seem to remember that was what 
brought you to me. I provide a safe place and a listening 
ear." Tomie tipped her chin up. "I'd say it's working."

Scully sagged as the indignation flowed from her body. 
"I'm sorry, Tomie. I just--"

Tomie wrinkled her nose and waved a hand. "No apology 
needed. We've all got his best interest at heart. Now, how 
about I stop talking and take you to him?"

She led them down a short hallway to a pair of French 
doors. Inside lay a cozy den complete with a gas fireplace 
and a large picture window looking onto what would likely 
be a flower garden in warmer weather. Mulder sat in an 
overstuffed chair near the fire, his bandaged hands cradling 
a mug.

Scully crossed the room and crouched at his side. "Hey."

"Hey." He twitched his lips in a weak smile, looking from 
Scully to Grey.

"How are you doing?"

"I'm fine, Scully. Don't look so worried."

Tomie was right--Mulder's placid tone unnerved her. Scully 
tried telling herself she should appreciate the respite after 
days of nervous fidgeting and snappish remarks, but the 
sense of wrongness set her on edge. Mulder existed 
naturally in a state of motion--canvassing crime scenes, 
tracking down leads, searching out witnesses. The drive to 
be doing, saying, thinking even permeated their home life--
he couldn't watch a movie without providing commentary, 
reading in bed inevitably led to lovemaking, and skipping 
his morning run for more than a day or two left him wired 
and out of sorts.

Scully curled her fingers around one thin wrist and 
squeezed. "Guess I should've warned Tomie about letting 
you help in the kitchen."

Mulder laughed weakly but his eyes were hollow.

Tomie touched Scully's shoulder, then pressed a warm mug 
into her hands. Scully stood and joined Grey where he sat 
on the couch, sipping from his own cup. The tea was hot 
and sweet, laced with milk and sugar--not the way she 
normally took it, but she appreciated the therapeutic value 
for jangling nerves.

Tomie sat in a rocking chair across from Mulder. "All right, 
kiddo. We're listening."

Mulder turned the mug between his palms, staring into the 
amber liquid. "The x-rays, the MRIs, and the few memories 
I already recovered paint a pretty clear picture of what was 
done to me. But they don't account for how I could possibly 
have survived." He licked his lips. "Now I know."

The clock ticked a measured beat; somewhere outside a 
dog barked furiously. Grey opened his mouth, but Tomie 
shook her head sharply, silencing him. Mulder took a small 
sip of the tea, grimaced, and continued.

"They had a box--a kind of machine. It was big enough to 
hold a person. Namely me. Whenever I became too 
damaged to be of further use, they'd haul me over and 
dump me inside. Shut the lid, flip a few switches, and 
voila! One fully restored guinea pig, ready to rock and 
roll."

"A healing device?" Scully took a steadying breath. "I 
know we've had our suspicions, but...my God, that certainly 
explains everything."

"Let me get this straight." Grey spoke through clenched 
teeth, his eyes narrowed. "They'd torture you until you were 
half dead, run you through the machine to fix you up, and 
then start all over again?"

"Oh, they didn't stop at half. I mean, where's the fun in 
that?"

"What are you saying, Mulder?"

"I'm saying I'm pretty damn sure I didn't always go into the 
box alive. I wanted to die, Scully. It got to the point where I 
reached for it with both hands. But the bastards wouldn't let 
me go. They kept bringing me back."

Mulder shut his eyes and his voice lost all inflection. "It 
was like waking up in a coffin, buried alive. No light, no 
air, walls surrounding you, closing in.. And I could feel it 
working inside of me, bones fusing, tissue regenerating, 
muscles knitting together. The pain... It felt like I was being 
ripped into little pieces and slowly reassembled. The agony 
I went through in that machine was ten times worse than 
anything they did to put me there."

"That's where you'd gone, then," Tomie said, nodding at 
Mulder's hands. "I couldn't understand a good deal of what 
you were saying, but one phrase was very clear: You were 
begging me to let you out."

"I think it was seeing your meat freezer. The shape, the 
controls...it seemed so familiar. And then it all came 
rushing back." Mulder scrubbed a hand over his face. 
"Sorry for losing it like that. I guess there's probably not 
much hope for that batch of cookies."

"Oh, I'd say those cookies served their purpose. You've 
made a bit of a breakthrough today, Mulder. How do you 
feel?"

"Ready to get the hell out of here." Mulder looked at her 
with weary eyes. "No offense."

Tomie smiled. "None taken. I think you've accomplished 
quite enough one today."

"Car's parked down the street," Grey said after Tomie had 
escorted them to the door and they'd stepped into a chill 
wind. "Y'all wait here and I'll pull around."

"I can walk." Mulder zipped his jacket and turned up the 
collar. "I'm stoned, not crippled."

"Who said I was doing it for you? I'm sparing Dana the 
hike. Those shoes look damn uncomfortable." Grey twirled 
his keys around his finger and jogged down the sidewalk.

"He just likes to drive," Scully said dryly. She studied 
Mulder's pale face. "How are you doing?"

He lifted a shoulder and gave her a lopsided smile. "Been 
worse. Been better. You?"

"That about sums it up, I'd say."

"I'm sorry, Scully."

"For?"

"Being such a bastard the past few days. I'm surprised you 
haven't kicked my ass to the curb."

"Well, I can't say I haven't been tempted. But the truth is, 
I've grown rather fond of your ass."

"Really?"

"Really."

 "Well, that's...that's good, Scully. Because I've grown 
pretty attached to yours, too." He sighed. "Not that you 
could tell lately, I'm sorry to say. But I hope to remedy that. 
Soon."

Scully looked up at him through her lashes. "Bring it on."

Mulder tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, then leaned 
over and touched his mouth to hers. The chaste brush of 
lips quickly escalated when she opened to him, and he 
enveloped her in his arms. Scully relaxed into the embrace, 
one hand drifting up to cradle the back of his neck and the 
other curled around his waist. 

He jerked as if she'd jabbed him with a needle and took a 
quick step backward, stumbling over his own feet.

"Mulder? What's wrong?"

He stared through her as if she were a stranger. "What?"

"What's going on? Are you hurt?"

Blinking, he focused on her at last. "No. Why?"

"Why? Because you practically jumped out of your skin, 
that's why. Are you sure you're okay?"

"I'm fine, Scully."

Scully frowned. Mulder's tense posture and shuttered 
expression said otherwise. But before she could press the 
issue, he began walking toward the street.

"There's Grey. Let's go."

After hesitating briefly, she followed. Mulder moved 
easily, no hint of discomfort in his stride or as he climbed 
into the back seat. As she buckled her seatbelt, Scully 
glanced over her shoulder. Mulder had tipped his head back 
and closed his eyes.

Nothing to worry about, she told herself. He's fine. 

Grey hunched over the steering wheel, occupied with the 
task of driving and his own thoughts. Numb with fatigue, 
Scully sank back into her seat, mirroring Mulder's position. 
Within minutes, the silence lulled her into a doze.

Mulder slowly opened his eyes. A line formed between his 
brows and he sat up straighter, cocking his head. Listening 
intently. Nodding.

Grey eased the car around a corner, tapping his fingers 
against the steering wheel. Scully drowsed, her breath a 
soft, rhythmic whisper. And the tires hummed against the 
pavement.


Continued in Chapter 18

Blood Ties 12: By the Road We Came (18/21)
By Dawn


Georgetown
Tuesday
3:58 AM


*So close.

Once unbearable, the pain has faded to a distant 
annoyance, like the insistent yap of a barking dog. He can't 
feel his arms or legs, and simply moving air in and out of 
his lungs takes immense effort. He's tired. So tired. And 
death is close.

"Did you know that human physiology has a much higher 
concentration of nerve endings than ours does? It's what 
makes your species so sensitive to touch. And to pain."

Fresh agony blossoms in his belly, driving back the 
numbness. The air catches in his chest and he coughs, 
weak, ragged spasms that spray her pristine lab smock with 
a fine, red mist. He groans but doesn't try to blink back the 
tears. If only they would blur her voice as well as her face.

"Your stamina has been truly remarkable, Mulder. Others 
succumbed long before reaching this stage." She wipes his 
lips and chin with a soft cloth before tapping information 
into what looks like a palm pilot.

He can't take his eyes off her hair, not even when his vision 
darkens around the edges and her words stop making 
sense. Red, silky, soft as a butterfly wing. He loves how it 
feels between his fingertips, the way it flickers around her 
face like bright flames. The sweet, clean smell when he 
nibbles that spot just behind her ear, the one that makes her 
moan his name.

Scully.

A quick, almost painless tug and he's free, severed at last 
from the body that holds only pain. A final breath whistles 
from his lungs, and he floats away...

...and awakens, screaming. His body is on fire, twisted from 
the inside out. They've crawled inside him--squeezing 
muscle and bone, rearranging organs, slithering through 
his blood. Fight or flight, he opens his eyes, desperate to 
escape. Darkness. It envelopes him. He flings his arms 
upward, smashing his knuckles against something solid.

He's locked in. He pushes with his hands, pulling up his 
legs, but his forehead and knees crack against an 
unmovable barrier, knocking him backward. The warmth of 
his own panicked breaths rebounds against his face. 
What...?

Oh, God. OhGodOhGodOhGodOhGod. Is it a coffin? Is he 
buried alive? He smells antiseptic and his own blood, not 
freshly turned earth.  There's not enough air. His heart 
pounding, his chest heaving, he pushes, then scratches at 
the blackness smothering him, sobbing and pleading. 

Let me out! I'm not dead!*

Mulder jerked awake. His heart hammered against his ribs 
and he gulped for air, surprised when it slipped easily into 
his lungs. He sat up, mopping his sweaty face with his tee 
shirt. Beside him Scully slept on, her hands curled beneath 
her chin and her face peaceful.

When he'd stopped shaking, Mulder eased out of the bed. 
He swapped his damp shirt with a fresh one and shuffled 
out of the room. Grey was spending the night at Kristen's, 
and the living room felt strangely empty without him. He 
sank onto the couch, clutching a throw pillow to his chest.

Tomie's theory had proven correct. Once he recalled his 
horrific experiences with the healing device, other 
memories began returning at an alarming rate. He'd 
suffered three more flashbacks before collapsing into bed, 
too tired to contemplate anything but sleep. When the 
nightmares had picked up right where the flashbacks left 
off, he'd broken down and agreed to take Tomie's damn 
pills.

That was four hours ago. He was still bone tired, his eyes 
gritty and his limbs heavy and uncoordinated. Yet beneath 
the exhaustion hummed a current of tension that would not 
allow him the respite his body craved. He felt jumpy. 
Jittery. There was something urgent he needed to do, some 
place he needed to be, but he couldn't put his finger on 
what it was.

*It's time to go.*

The odd refrain had flickered through his mind all 
afternoon, as if someone were whispering in his ear. He 
tightened his arms, rocking a little. Go where? He felt 
trapped by his own weakened body and the oppressive 
concern that radiated from Scully and Grey. 

Tossing the pillow aside, he lurched upright and wandered 
over to the window, leaning his forehead against the cool 
glass. A full moon bathed the street, glinting off pavement 
still damp from a brief spell of snow flurries. The darkened 
windows, the absence of traffic, the softly glowing 
streetlights--all radiated a stillness that mocked the 
relentless turmoil churning inside him.

How had he deluded himself into believing he could take 
ownership of his life? That he could walk away and leave 
the nightmare behind? His existence was tangled up in a 
web of deceit and betrayal. Once Spender had accused him 
of becoming a player, a cheap shot meant to impugn 
Mulder's integrity. But the truth was that he'd been a pawn 
in their damn cosmic chess game from the moment of his 
conception. He'd never be free of it.

Never.

*Time to go.*

It was a compulsion now, a constant tickling in his brain. 
He turned from the window, rubbing his head.

* Now, while she's sleeping. Hurry.*

He opened the closet and reached for his coat. When his 
fingers brushed Scully's jacket, an electric tingle shot up his 
arm and the tickle in his head became a command.

*IN THE POCKET TAKE IT REACH INSIDE PICK IT UP 
TAKE IT HOLD IT TOUCH IT YOURS ALL YOURS*

He slid his hand inside the pocket and grabbed it.

Smooth, slick, warm, it fit perfectly into his palm. He shut 
his eyes as serenity washed through him, the rush as sweet 
as a narcotic. His chin dipped to his chest and his body 
relaxed.

The voice gentled. 

*Relax. Let go. You don't have to think anymore. Just do 
exactly as you're told. We'll take care of you, Mulder. No 
more fear. No more worries. Come back to us. It's time.*

He smiled and opened his eyes. Of course, everything made 
sense now. He didn't belong here; he needed to go back. 
They were waiting for him.

He put on his jacket--Quiet, don't wake her--and walked to 
the elevator. Punching the button, he hummed quietly and 
watched the lighted numbers count down.

Outside, a gust of wind ruffled his hair and peeled back his 
jacket. Mulder zipped it to his chin, hunching his shoulders. 
He stared up and down the deserted street, a thread of 
uncertainty penetrating his comfortable haze. He had to go-
-but how? 

His patted his pockets. No keys. He couldn't take the car or 
get back into the apartment without waking Scully. 

Uncertainty blossomed into anxiety. This was crazy; he 
was standing on the street in the middle of the night with no 
idea where he was headed or how he was going to get 
there. He should turn around, march right back into the 
building and...

*Relax. Don't think. Feel. Feel us. Come back.*

He started walking, and the relief was instantaneous. 
Apprehension melted away with each footstep and he 
smiled, barely acknowledging the chill cutting through his 
too-thin jacket and nipping at his feet. Cupping the rock in 
his hand, he caressed the smooth surface with his thumb, 
mesmerized by the touch. For the first time in longer than 
he could remember, he felt good. So good.

Ducking his head and shielding his face from the brunt of 
the wind, he quickened his pace.


Georgetown
5:11 AM


Scully rolled onto her stomach, burrowing further under the 
covers. Still chilled despite the blankets, she scooted 
toward the middle of the bed, blindly seeking Mulder's 
warmth.

She snapped her eyes open and sat up, listening. After a 
wretched afternoon battling flashbacks, he'd fallen into an 
exhausted sleep. Unfortunately, the returning memories had 
pursed him into his dreams and he'd awakened in a cold 
sweat shortly thereafter. The fact that he'd finally agreed to 
one of Tomie's pills testified to the depth of his fatigue.

She'd crawled into bed full of hope that the night might 
pass without further incident. Mulder, sprawled across the 
mattress, hadn't twitched when she'd snuggled up to his 
back. The slow, steady whisper of his breath had lulled her 
into slumber.

She should have known it was too good to last.

Stopping to check the bathroom, she continued into the 
living room. She expected flickering blue light and Mulder 
stretched on the sofa, remote in hand, but found only 
darkness and silence. 

"Mulder?"

In the kitchen, an empty water bottle sat beside the sink. 
"Mulder?" Louder and more insistent, but still greeted with 
silence.

She did another sweep of the apartment, this time with an 
investigator's eye. The shirt Mulder had worn to bed lay 
discarded on the floor; his dresser drawer hung open. She'd 
seen enough sweat-soaked clothing over the past week to 
recognize evidence of a nightmare.

In the living room she picked the throw pillow off the floor 
and returned it to the couch. The curtains were open a 
crack, revealing the street below. 

Damn it. Nick had made it very clear that running was out 
of the question. Not only would it sap Mulder's already 
flagging energy level and expose him to the elements, it 
burned calories he desperately needed.

Scully opened the hall closet. Her coat had been knocked 
off its hanger and left in a heap on the floor next to 
Mulder's running shoes. His Birkenstocks, however, were 
missing. What the hell...?

She snatched his leather jacket from the hanger, eyes 
slipping shut when she felt a telltale bulge in his pocket.

Mulder's wallet and keys.

You didn't go running in sandels and you sure as hell didn't 
traipse around in the middle of the night without your keys.

What was he doing? Had he become caught in some kind 
of flashback? Could he be wandering around the city, 
trapped in his own mind? She had to find him, *now*, 
before he hurt himself. Scully refused to consider the 
possibility that he might hurt someone else.

She returned to the kitchen and grabbed the phone, 
punching numbers with shaking fingers. It was picked up 
on the second ring.

"Dana?"

"Kristen, I need to talk to Grey."

"What's wrong? Is it Mulder?"

"Kristen, please, I can't...I have to--"

"Calm down, darlin'. I'm right here."

She sagged, her legs trembling. "Grey, Mulder's gone."

"*Gone*? Where?"

"I don't know. If I did I wouldn't be standing here talking 
on the phone!"

"Okay, okay. Slow down and back up."

She sucked in a deep breath. "He was sound asleep when I 
went to bed. That was around midnight. When I woke up 
about fifteen minutes ago, he was gone. His shoes are 
missing but he left his wallet and keys."

"Maybe he went for a run." She could hear Grey moving 
about the room, opening and shutting drawers.

"Wrong shoes. And he'd have taken his keys."

"You've got a point. Are you sure he didn't leave a note? 
Maybe he went for a walk and just forgot the keys. If he'd 
had a flashback, wasn't thinking straight--"

"That's what I'm afraid of."

"Meaning?"

"What if he wasn't in his right mind when he left? The 
flashbacks have been intense. If he thought he was back on 
the ship--"

"From what you're saying, he didn't just run out of the 
apartment. He had the presence of mind to go to the closet, put on shoes, a coat--"

"Oh my God." Scully stiffened, and spun toward the 
hallway. Her eyes locked onto her jacket as she forced her 
legs into motion.

"Dana? What is it?"

Ignoring Grey, she scooped up the coat and plunged her 
hand into the pocket.

Empty.

Oh, God. Mulder.

"Damn it, Dana! Answer me!"

"It's my fault. How could I have been so stupid?" Tears 
flooded her eyes and caught in the back of her throat. "God, 
this can't be happening. It can't be happening!"

"What are you talking about? Dana, talk to me. I'm in the 
car but I can't get there for at least fifteen minutes and 
you're scaring the shit out of me. What's your fault?"

Her legs folded and she slid down the wall. "Mulder has the 
device."

"What dev--the *rock*? How?"

"Skinner wanted our lab to have a look at it. I'd picked it up 
from the guys and was taking it to the Bureau when Tomie 
called. In all the commotion this afternoon I just...I..." Her 
voice cracked and she couldn't continue.

"You forgot." Grey sighed. "We spent the afternoon peeling 
him off the ceiling, Dana. It's no wonder--"

"Why would he do it, Grey? *Why* would he touch it 
knowing what we know? It doesn't make any sense, 
unless..."

"Unless he didn't have a choice." Grey's voice hardened. 
"Put on some clothes and meet me out front. He doesn't 
have a car or his wallet--he can't have gone far."

"Can't he? If we're right, Grey, then they called him. They 
want him back."

"I don't give a damn what they want. They can't have him. 

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

The first weak threads of sunlight were glinting off car 
windows as the cab coasted to the curb.

"Hey, buddy. Need a lift?"

Mulder pulled up short and stared at dark eyes in a stubbled 
face. "What?"

"I said, do you need a lift? I've been watching you for the 
last two blocks and no offense but ya look like you're ready 
to keel over."

He limped closer. His legs were weak with exhaustion and 
his feet felt like wooden blocks. Funny, he hadn't noticed 
until now.

"You'd give me a ride?"

The cabbie popped his gum. "For the standard rate." He 
squinted at Mulder. "Ya got money, don't ya?"

Money? Mulder searched through his pockets. No wallet, 
but he pulled out a slim leather folder. The cabbie's eyes 
widened when the case flipped open.

"FBI? Hey, you on a case?"

*It's time to go. Hurry.*

"I have to go. It's urgent."

"Never let it be said that Pete Sobricki didn't do his part to 
uphold justice. Hop in--I'll bill ya."

Mulder blinked, then opened the door and climbed in back. 
"Thanks."

"So...where to?"

"What?"

Pete slung an arm over the seatback and turned to face him. 
"Were you in an accident or something? 'Cause you're sure 
acting a little rough around the edges."

"I'm fine. I'm just in a hurry."

Pete lifted his hands. "Okay, okay. So tell me where we're 
going."

Mulder frowned, then his forehead smoothed. "West. 
Virginia."

Pete snorted but turned back toward the wheel. "Virginia. 
Could you be a little more specific?"

Mulder relaxed, tipping his head onto the seatback and 
closing his eyes. Shenandoah National Park. Skyline 
Drive."


Continued in Chapter 19

Blood Ties 12: By the Road We Came (19/21)
By Dawn


Arlington
Tuesday
7:34 AM


"This isn't working." Scully sat forward, staring at the back 
of a tall, dark-haired man striding briskly down the street. 
He turned around as they drew closer, and she slumped in 
her seat. "We're never going to find him this way."

"How the hell did he manage to give us the slip?" Grey 
navigated the car around a corner, his shoulders tense and 
his words clipped. "Forget the fact that he's got no money 
or transportation. He wasn't physically strong enough to 
walk this far."

"He obviously found a way." Scully clenched her jaw. 
"Time is running out. We have to *do* something."

"I'm taking suggestions."

"Pull over."

"What?"

"Just...pull over. Let's think this through."

Shrugging, Grey maneuvered the car to an open parking 
space. He shut off the engine and looked at Scully with 
raised brows.

She pinched the bridge of her nose, struggling to think past 
the throbbing pulse in her head. "I called Skinner before I 
left the apartment. He promised he'd let the DC police 
know that an agent is missing. I think it's time you and I 
attacked this from a different angle."

"Okay." Grey tipped his head back and gazed up at the 
ceiling. "If we can't track him down, maybe we can figure 
out where he's going. You know, head him off at the pass."

"I thought of that. Given that Mulder's abduction and return 
took place within a thirty mile radius, the Lynchburg area 
would seem a likely destination."

"But?"

"I'm not willing to risk Mulder's life on those odds. If we 
go racing out there and we're wrong.."

"We've lost him," Grey finished. 

"Skinner said he'd fax Mulder's picture to police in 
Lynchburg and towns in the surrounding area. They'll be 
watching for him." 

"That damn rock! We should have destroyed it instead of--" 
He bolted upright, his eyes huge. "Dana, the rock! If they 
can track him with it, why can't we? Langly could rig that 
machine--"

"The oscilloscope. Go." Scully pulled out her cell phone as 
Grey gunned the engine. "I can't believe we didn't think of 
this before." She drummed her fingers on the armrest. 
"Frohike? It's Scully. Listen carefully; Mulder needs your 
help."

Grey focused on weaving the car in and out of the sluggish, 
rush hour traffic. He gripped the steering wheel so hard his 
knuckles turned white and his fingers ached.

"It's not your fault."

Her soft statement startled him. He darted a quick look at 
her face before doggedly returning to the road. "If I'd been 
there, this wouldn't have happened."

"You can't know that."

"I know he'd never have made it out the door without me."

"You've slept on that couch every night for more than a 
week; put your personal life on hold for the past month. 
You needed a break, Grey. Stop blaming yourself."

"Excuse me?"

She sighed. "Okay, okay. I will if you will."

Frohike was waiting for them, the expression on his face 
less than encouraging.

"Don't look at me like that, Melvin." Scully breezed past 
him and went straight to the lab bench where Byers and 
Langly huddled over the oscilloscope. "You boys are 
always bragging that your kung fu is the best. Well, now 
would be a very good time to prove it."

"It's not a matter of kung fu." Byers faltered under Scully's 
pleading gaze. "Our equipment can only function within a 
certain range, and the fact that we're being bombarded by 
competing signals only complicates things."

Langly fiddled with various knobs. "Hey, if you could 
narrow the search area down a little, we might be able to 
get close enough to zero in on Mulder's signal."

"Langly, if I had that kind of information I wouldn't need 
the damn equipment!" 

Grey stepped between them. "What if we got in the car, 
drove around with that thing? Maybe we'd get lucky and 
latch onto the right signal."

Byers ducked his head. "I'm afraid the chances of success 
would be practically nonexistent. It would be like trying to 
find a needle in a haystack."

Scully smacked her palm on the counter. "Then we'd better 
start looking. Mulder can't be out of our reach. There has to 
be a way--"

Her cell phone rang. Pulling it from her pocket, she turned 
her back. "Scully."

"Dude, you gotta know we want to find Mulder as much as 
you do," Langly said to Grey.  "We can try boosting the 
power on this thing, maybe increase the range. But that's 
gonna take time."

"We don't have any!" Grey rubbed a hand over his face. 
"You boys know what kind of shape Fox was in when we 
found him. Do you really think he'll survive another trip 
with those bastards?"

"We've got a lead. Pack that thing up and let's go!" Scully 
shoved the phone into her pocket. When they gaped at her, 
she narrowed her eyes. "Now!"

The Gunmen sprang into action, loading the oscilloscope 
and several smaller pieces of equipment into a large 
carryall. 

"Can that thing run on batteries?"

Byers glanced up from folding cords. "No, but we have a 
small generator in the van."

"What about when we have to leave the van?"

Langly waved a palm-sized device. "We've got two of 
these. They run on batteries. Their range is limited but if 
we get close enough, say within five to ten miles...."

"We will."

Grey nudged Scully's arm. "What's the story?"

"A cab driver phoned the Bureau asking about Special 
Agent Fox Mulder. Said he picked Mulder up in Arlington 
about 5:15 this morning. Mulder didn't have money for cab 
fare, but when the driver saw his badge he decided he could 
trust him to pay up later."

"He called to collect his money?"

"Not exactly. He told Skinner he couldn't shake an uneasy 
feeling--that something about Mulder felt 'off.' His odd 
behavior coupled with the fact that he insisted he be 
dropped off in the middle of nowhere had the guy worried 
Mulder might not be who he claimed. The cabbie said he 
didn't want some crazy person on the loose, posing as a 
Federal agent."

Grey frowned. "The middle of nowhere? Where exactly did 
this guy take him?"

Scully evaded his eyes, busying herself with taking a 
canvas bag from Frohike. "The mountains in Virginia, over 
two hours from here. Shenandoah National Park."

"Over two-- God, Dana! He's got a huge jump on us."

She shouldered the bag. "Then we'd better get moving."


Shenandoah National Park
1:22 PM

"Shit!"

Mulder sat up, gingerly dusting dirt and bits of dead leaves 
off his palms. He'd taken his third spill in less than an hour 
and his hands and knees were scraped and bloody. 
Grasping the trunk of a nearby sapling, he dragged himself 
to his feet.

His feet. The sandals tripped him up and provided no 
insulation for his sock-clad toes. Why hadn't he worn his 
hiking boots? Or his leather jacket? And while he was on 
the subject, what the hell was he doing out here? He'd been 
stumbling through the woods, following this damn trail for 
hours without seeing a living soul. He was tired, thirsty, 
and hopelessly turned around. Maybe...

*Keep going. Come back.*

Mulder shoved his chilled hands into his pockets, sighing 
as his tense muscles unwound. The rock heated his palm 
and fingers--the only warm spot on his chilled body. More 
importantly, it soothed his spirit. He started walking, 
ignoring his abraded knees and blistered feet. Everything 
would be okay.

He staggered along, dodging low-hanging branches, 
slipping and sliding when the trail turned damp and muddy. 
Watching his feet, he concentrated on the business of 
putting one in front of the other. The sounds and smells of 
the forest, his discomfort, all faded to white noise....

The raucous caw of a crow snapped him out of his trance. 
Mulder blinked, struggling to focus.

The clearing was about a hundred yards wide, a smooth 
grassy stretch of ground broken by the large trunks of 
several fallen trees. Shivering, he turned his face up into the 
weak sunlight. He didn't remember leaving the trail. 
Spinning in a slow circle, he searched the tree line, unsure 
which direction he'd come from.

No longer moving, weariness slammed into him. Mulder 
rubbed at his burning eyes, swaying a little.

*Rest now. Wait.*

Rest. That sounded wonderful.

Collapsing against one of the large tree trunks and finally 
sheltered from the wind, Mulder curled into a ball and 
burrowed his face into his jacket, creating a small pocket of 
warmth. Within minutes, he was asleep.


Skyline Drive
4:04 PM

"Another ten miles and we'll be back to the highway." 
Byers kept his eyes on the road, his voice neutral.

"Then we turn around and head south again."

Grey saw Langly and Frohike grimace at each other. He 
cleared his throat. "Dana, we've been up and down this road 
twice already. The sun's going down--in another hour it 
will be dark."

"And it's our best chance of finding him."

"All I'm saying is that maybe we should get some help. We 
could contact the park rangers, organize a search and 
rescue."

"By the time they get teams together it will be too late."

He swallowed, but there didn't seem to be enough spit. "It 
already may be too late."

She grabbed his arm. "Don't even say it. Mulder went all 
the way to Antarctica for me. He never gave up, and neither 
will I."

Grey held his ground, his own anger flaring. "You think I 
like being the voice of reason? I want to find Fox as much 
as you do, damn it! I just don't see the sense in blindly--"

"Will you two shut up? We're getting something." Frohike 
crouched by the oscilloscope, tweaking dials. "Easy. Easy. 
Bingo! That's it!"

"Are you sure?" Scully leaned over his shoulder.

"One thing you can say about this signal, it's unique," 
Langly answered. "Byers, pull over as soon as you can find 
a place to stash the van or we're gonna lose this."

"There's a park entrance up ahead. Hang on."

By the time they parked and geared up it was dusk. Scully 
studied a map while the Gunmen snapped at each other, 
fumbling with the handheld units. 

"I thought you said those would work out here." She 
checked her weapon for the second time and flicked on her 
flashlight, panning it over the area.

"They will." Frohike snatched one from Langly's grasp. 
"What the hell are you doing, Ringo? You've got to set this 
threshold to maximum, or--"

"Oh, now you're the expert! Who was the genius that 
underestimated the damping affect the mountains would 
have on the signal?"

"Gentlemen, this isn't helping and we're--"

In perfect unison, "Shut up, Byers."

Scully swung the flashlight beam into their eyes. "I'm going 
to shoot all three of you if you don't have those things 
ready to go in sixty seconds."

Langly blinked, Byers froze like a deer caught in the 
headlights of an oncoming truck, but Frohike just smirked. 
"No need for violence. We're ready."

Grey and Scully moved in close as Frohike switched on the 
machine. "This shows signal strength." He pointed to a 
light bar with a single flickering square. "As you can see, 
right now it's barely registering. I'm guessing Mulder must 
be at least a couple miles from here."

"More like five," Langly muttered.

"As we home in on the signal, more of the bar will light 
up," Frohike said. "Theoretically, when we find Mulder the 
entire bar will be red."

Grey frowned. "Theoretically?"

The Gunmen eyed each other before Byers finally spoke. 
"We put these together months ago. The, ah, project we 
intended them for fell through and they've been gathering 
dust ever since."

"You've never tested them?" Scully asked.

"Not outside the lab, no."

She bit her lip, but took the instrument from Frohike. "Then 
let's hope you boys knew what you were doing." She 
pointed her flashlight at the trees. "According to the map, 
this is an access point to the Appalachian Trail. It should be 
just beyond those trees, running roughly north and south

Grey held up a hand. "Wait a minute. If you're going to 
suggest what I think--"

"We should divide into two groups, keeping in contact by 
radio."

"That's what I was afraid of. Look, Dana, I think splitting 
up is a bad idea. It's almost dark, we're in the middle of the 
forest, and these guys are amateurs at this kind of thing."

"Who you calling amateur?" Langly waved the device in 
his hand. "Don't forget, you wouldn't be here without us."

Frohike folded his arms. "What he said."

"Splitting up doubles our chances of finding Mulder. You 
can take Byers and Langly and head south; Frohike and I 
will go north." Scully laid a hand on Grey's arm and 
lowered her voice. "I understand your concern, but each of 
us is armed. I'm willing to take the risk."

Byers squared his shoulders. "So are we."

Grey sighed. "Then I think we should check in by radio 
every twenty minutes. And if you get lucky, I want you to 
wait for me before you approach him." When Scully 
frowned, he quickly added, "Fox is under the influence of 
an alien device, Dana. We have no idea what his state of 
mind is or what he may be capable of. I don't want you 
going near him without back-up."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence."

Grey ignored Frohike's mutter, pinning Scully with his 
eyes. After a moment she nodded and started walking.

"Fine. Let's go."

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

"Damn it, Langly, watch what you're doing!" Grey 
balanced on one leg as he fixed his shoe. "That's the second 
time you've tromped on my heel."

"Well, excuse me. Maybe you could give a guy a little 
warning before you stop dead in the middle of the trail. 
You're the only one with a good flashlight--we can't see 
shit back here."

Grey mentally counted to ten. It wasn't Langly's fault that 
they'd hiked several miles and come up empty. "Still 
nothing?" He jabbed a finger at the instrument in Langly's 
hand. Now even the single stuttering light had gone dark.

"Nada. It's pretty obvious Mulder never came this way."

"Unless your little invention is really a piece of useless 
junk."

"Hey! I spent a lot of hours on that so-called 'piece of junk,' 
and--"

Byers stepped between them, cutting off Langly mid-rant. 
"We told you they'd never been tested. We're doing the best 
we can under the circumstances."

Grey ducked his head and rubbed the back of his neck. "I 
know you are. Let's head back. Dana's due to check in any 
minute. How 'bout we pick up the pace?"

Langly extended his arm and Grey set off at a slow jog. He 
fought frustration and a rising sense of despair. Had they 
really believed the five of them could find Fox in the 
middle of this wilderness? What if by conducting their own 
search they'd thrown away viable opportunities to find 
him?

His thoughts consumed with worry for his brother, it was a 
moment before he registered the hiss of static from the 
radio on Byer's belt. Byers picked it up as Frohike's voice 
crackled to life.

"Byers, where are you?"

"Almost back to where we started." Byers looked at Grey. 
"No luck, I'm afraid."

"Yeah? Well the three of you better haul ass. The 'scope's 
lighting up like a Christmas tree. We're closing in on 
Mulder as we speak." Frohike's voice was giddy with 
excitement."

Grey grabbed the radio from Byers. "What's your 
position?"

They heard Frohike conferring with Scully before he 
replied. "We're about three miles along the trail but the 
signal's veering west. We're-- Scully...Scully, wait! Just 
follow the 'scope; it will show you the way. Gotta go."

"You heard him." Grey shoved the radio into his pocket. 
"Let's haul ass, boys."

To Grey's surprise, Langly and Byers stayed with him, 
despite the breakneck pace. He moved as fast as he dared 
without risking a broken ankle from the uneven, rocky 
ground. A mile down the trail the first light flickered to life, 
spurring him onward. The bar was nearly complete when it 
began to recede. Grey skidded to a stop.

"Shit! We're starting to lose it. We must have gone too far, 
passed the point they left the trail. Let's backtrack and then 
head west."

He'd barely finished speaking when the radio clicked. "Yo, 
Byers. You better answer, 'cause we're about to be in some 
deep doo doo." Frohike's whisper vibrated tension.

"It's Grey. What's up, Frohike?"

"We found Mulder, but he looks like crap. I reminded 
Scully she promised to wait for you but she said...uh, well, 
let's not go there."

Grey groaned and started jogging. "She's with him right 
now?"

"Yeah. And he's acting strange, man. I mean, stranger than 
usual. Edgy. Scully's trying to calm him down."

"What's your position?"

"A small clearing just west of the trail. I think you better 
hurry."

"On our way. We're just around the corner."

They crashed through the trees and underbrush, stumbling 
over roots and dodging low-hanging branches. When the 
indicator bar shone red and the trees thinned, Grey slowed 
to a walk.

Moonlight bathed the clearing, a stark contrast to the 
darkened woods. Frohike stood just beyond the treeline, his 
attention focused on something beyond Grey's line of sight. 
Grey turned to Byers and Langly.

"Hang back. We don't want Fox any more upset than he 
already is."

He moved up beside Frohike, keeping to the shadows as 
much as possible. "Frohike, what's going on? Where are 
they?"

Frohike didn't acknowledge him. Instead he slowly raised 
both hands.

"Frohike! What the--" Grey broke off, heart pounding.

Fox and Dana stood in the center of the grassy area, beside 
a fallen tree. He was talking to her in a low, intimate tone, 
but staring at Grey and Frohike with lifeless eyes. One arm 
around her neck, he crushed her body against his.

And held a gun to her temple.

Continued in Chapter 20

Blood Ties 12: By the Road We Came (20/21)
By Dawn


Shenandoah National Park
5:37 PM


Scully clutched the arm pressed against her throat, digging 
her fingers into the soft cotton. "Put the gun down, Mulder. 
You don't want to do this."

He rambled on, his lips caressing her ear. "You don't 
understand, Scully. It's time to go. They'll be here soon and 
I can't...I can't let you stop me."

She shivered. The husky voice, the tickle of his breath, the 
heat of his body pressed along hers left her weak-kneed 
with fear. The man holding her so tightly bore little 
resemblance to her husband.

From the moment she'd found him on the ground, huddled 
in a ball and hypothermic, he'd been spouting nonsense. 
*It's all right, Scully. There's no reason to worry; I'm fine.* 
Oblivious to the abrasions, the bruises, the bone-rattling 
chill. Words tumbled from his lips, uttered in his voice, but 
they weren't *Mulder*. He sounded as if he were reading 
from a script.

"Mulder, you're hurting me." From the corner of her eye 
she saw Grey edging closer. "Put away the gun and you can 
explain everything to me. Help me understand; I *want* to 
understand."

"You don't want to understand; you just want to change my 
mind." He tensed and pressed the gun harder against her 
skull. "That's far enough, Grey."

Still over ten feet away, Grey froze, then pasted on a smile. 
"Well, hello to you, too, little brother. You want to tell me 
what's wrong? Maybe I can help."

"I don't need your help. I'd be fine if everyone would just 
leave me alone."

"Fox, you've got your wife in a headlock with a gun 
pressed to her temple. Way I see it, you're about as far from 
fine as you can get."

Mulder shuddered, then swayed and the gun shifted away 
from her head. Scully became a dead weight, using gravity 
and a quick twist to squirm out from under the arm at her 
throat.

But Mulder grabbed a fistful of her hair and yanked, 
catching her as she stumbled backward and crashed into his 
body. Something hard smacked her jaw and she went still, 
blinking tears of pain as he nestled her gun snugly under 
her chin.

"*Don't*, Scully."

"Fox--"

Mulder shuffled backward, dragging her with him. "It's 
time, Grey. You can't stop this. I've got to go." His delivery 
was chilling. Matter-of-fact. Reasonable.

A figure detached itself from the shadows at the treeline. 
Frohike. His glasses reflected the moonlight, turning his 
face into an expressionless mask as he jabbed a finger at 
the sky.

"We've got incoming, man. If we don't get the hell out of 
here the phrase 'Beam me up, Scotty' is gonna take on a 
whole new meaning for all of us."

Mulder's iron grip on her hair prevented Scully from 
looking, but she saw the color drain from Grey's face.

"Fox, for the love of God, let her go! We've got to get out 
of here; you don't realize what you're doing. Remember 
what they did to you, the way they hurt you, broke your 
fingers, your--"

"Shut up! All of you, shut the fuck up!"

It was the first crack in his calm exterior. Mulder shifted 
restlessly behind her. Fine tremors vibrated through his 
body and Scully could feel his heart hammering against his 
ribs. She squirmed in his arms, desperate to see his face.

"Remember it, Mulder. All of it. The pain. The fear. The 
way they tore you apart and put you back together. They 
hurt you, Mulder, and made you want to die. You don't 
want to go back to--"

Agony blasted through her cheekbone, showering sparks 
across her vision. Scully cried out, sagging against Mulder 
as she fought to remain conscious. Grey shouted, fierce, 
pleading words that rolled over her without meaning. She 
saw his hand reach toward the small of his back, then drop 
to his side. Wincing, she forced her tongue to make the 
right sounds. What emerged was a slurred whisper.

"Grey...stop this...know what to do."

Grey's gaze locked onto her face and time slowed to a 
crawl. His eyes, wild with fear, widened as the meaning of 
her words sank in. He shook his head.

"Dana, no. I...I can't."

She wanted to scream, to remind Grey that there were evils 
far worse than death, but Mulder was choking off her air. 
And then she felt searing heat. Oh, God. The device.

"Grey. Please!"

Grey shut his eyes, twisting his face into a grimace. Then in 
one smooth motion he pulled his gun from the small of his 
back and fired.

Scully screamed as Mulder collapsed, taking her down with 
him, their arms and legs tangled together. Her head struck 
the ground and the breath whooshed from her lungs. Above 
the roaring in her ears she could hear Grey and Frohike 
shouting. Rough hands moved her away from Mulder's 
body.

"...coming...find it before...how the hell should I...do it 
now!"

Someone grabbed her arm and tugged her upright. Pain 
knifed through her skull, and the world spun sickeningly 
while she fought for balance. Byers face swam into view, 
his eyes huge and his mouth moving rapidly.

"...Scully...move before...trees...provide cover..."

He slung her arm around his neck and she pushed with her 
legs, wobbling to her feet. They staggered across the grass, 
weaving drunkenly. She heard Frohike and Langly 
screaming at each other. Grey sprinted toward the trees, 
Mulder slung over his shoulder in a fireman's carry.

They ran, crashing through underbrush and tripping over 
tree roots, until her lungs were ready to burst. At last Grey 
barked out the command to stop and they all dropped to the 
ground, panting.

As she caught her breath, Scully's head cleared and the pain 
receded to a dull ache. Mulder lay on the ground, Grey and 
Frohike crouched over him. His outstretched hand was 
limp.

"Damn it, Frohike, you've got to press harder! Use this." 
Grey stripped off several layers of clothing, tossing Frohike 
his tee shirt. "He's losing too much blood."

"I can't believe you shot him." Frohike folded the shirt and 
tucked it against Mulder's right shoulder, leaning his full 
weight into the compression. 

"I didn't exactly have a lot of options. That ship was closing 
fast and Fox was standing there with his thumb out." Grey's 
retort sounded belligerent but Scully saw his hands 
trembling as he slipped his jacket beneath Mulder's head.

"Yeah, but... If you'd been off an inch you could've nailed a 
lung, not to mention Scully."

"But he didn't." Scully shrugged off Byers' supportive hold 
and crawled to Mulder's side. She looked into Grey's red-
rimmed eyes. "He saved Mulder, and the rest of us, as 
well." She nudged Frohike out of the way. "Hold the 
flashlight, I need to see the wound."

The bullet had struck the upper portion of Mulder's right 
shoulder, a mirror image of the wound she'd inflicted when 
he had been whacked out of his mind and ready to shoot 
Krycek.

"Turn him. I need to check for an exit wound."

Grey and Frohike carefully rolled Mulder onto his side. 
Scully touched the blood soaked shirt, feeling her tensed 
muscles relax. The bullet had passed through cleanly. 
Mulder would be hurting for a few weeks, but the damage 
would eventually heal.

"Here." Byers pressed another folded piece of cloth into her 
hand, along with a belt. 

She accepted it and smiled tightly, quickly and efficiently 
binding the wounds. Mulder was out cold, not even 
twitching when she tightened the belt to exert pressure. His 
depth of unconsciousness troubled her, but she shoved the 
worry aside. First order of business was getting him the hell 
out of this forest. She'd deal with the rest later.

"That's all I can do here. He needs a hospital." She looked 
at Grey. "It's a long way to the car. Are you going to be 
able to carry him?"

Grey smiled but his voice was hoarse with emotion. "It 
won't be the first time I've had to haul his ass out of the 
woods." He brushed his fingers along her bruised cheek. 
"How 'bout you? You took a helluva knock from that gun."

"I'll be a lot better once we get out of here." Scully 
stiffened and gripped Grey's arm. "The device! What 
happened to it? Mulder--"

"Easy." Grey covered her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. 
"We found it in his pocket. It's been taken care of."

"Grey, I know I don't have to tell you how dangerous that 
thing is. We don't really understand how it works; they 
could still be homing in on it."

"Uh...no. They can't."

Scully turned toward Langly, whose gaze shifted between 
her and Grey. "You can't be sure of that."

"Actually...we can." Frohike waved at hand at Langly. 
"Show her the device, Einstein."

Langly reached into his pocket and pulled out a 
handkerchief. Folded up inside, shards of the rock mixed 
with delicate filaments and a glistening viscous substance. 
"We, um, smashed it. Between two stones."

"YOU smashed it," Frohike said, then added grudgingly. 
"Not that I tried to stop you."

"It was the only way I could think of to shut it off." Langly 
ducked his head. "Sorry, Scully."

She stared at the bizarre mixture of organic and inorganic 
material. Our concrete proof of extraterrestrial 
intelligence. Mulder's gonna go ballistic. And then the 
implication sank in and she smiled. Mulder was going to go 
ballistic. Thank God.

Scully sighed. "Forget it, Langly. Let's get out of here. I 
think I've had enough of Mother Nature to last a lifetime."

Grey stood and pulled Mulder across his shoulders. "You 
and me both, darlin'. You and me both."


Georgetown Medical Center
12:31 AM

God, he was tired. Grey leaned against the back of the 
elevator and closed his eyes. His back ached like a son of a 
bitch and the muscles in his legs thrummed with 
exhaustion. Since his destination was the third floor, he 
didn't move when the car stopped at the next level and 
someone stepped inside.

"Don't take this the wrong way, but...you look like shit."

Grey opened his eyes. "Walt. Didn't realize you'd be the 
one handling damage control. Guess Dana figured she'd 
better call in the big guns."

Skinner frowned. "When I talked to Scully she said you 
were second guessing what you'd done. I'd hoped she was 
mistaken."

"Guess it's just further proof that a penchant for guilt really 
can be hereditary." The elevator doors rumbled open and 
Grey got out. 

Skinner caught hold of his arm. "Don't. You're a cop, Grey, 
so think like one. You were looking at an agitated and 
extremely unstable individual holding an agent hostage."

Grey jerked free from his grasp. "That unstable individual 
happened to be my brother, damn it! I *shot* my own 
brother." He ran a hand through his hair and cupped the 
back of his neck. "We were in the middle of the wilderness, 
Walt. If I'd hit an artery, a vital organ, Dana--"

"But you didn't. They're alive right now because you had 
the balls to make a tough decision. Don't cheapen it with 
self-pity."

Grey glared at him, then stalked down the hallway. Scully 
stood as they approached the waiting room. Under the 
harsh fluorescent lighting her shadowed eyes, bruised 
cheek, and mud-spattered clothing made her look like a 
battered child.

"Sir." She tucked a tangled strand of hair behind her ear. 
"Thank you for getting here so quickly. The staff has 
naturally expressed concern over the nature of Mulder's 
injury."

"I'll take care of it, Scully." Skinner's gruff voice softened. 
"Are you all right?"

She touched her cheek, then quickly dropped her hand. "I'm 
fine. They put Mulder in a regular room. The bullet went 
straight through without complications. Nick said it should 
heal well, no muscle or nerve damage." She directed the 
information to Grey. "He's with Mulder now."

"He's going to be all right, then," Skinner said.

"He should be."

Skinner frowned. "Should be?"

"He hasn't regained consciousness, sir. Frankly, there's no 
reason for it. Nick is...concerned."

"Speaking of which..." Grey gestured behind her.

Nick Brewer emerged from a room on the right side of the 
hallway. He jotted something on a chart before slipping it 
into the pocket outside the door.

"Nick." Scully walked quickly to meet him.

Nick slipped an arm around her shoulders and squeezed, 
nodding to Skinner and Grey. "He's starting to come 
around."

Scully sagged. "Thank God."

"It's encouraging, but it's only a first step. He's in and out, 
and when he's in, he's not making much sense." Nick 
rubbed his jaw. "I know you said he didn't hit his head, and 
I see no evidence of trauma. But he's behaving as if he's 
concussed."

Grey raised an eyebrow. "Are you thinking what I'm 
thinking?" he asked Scully.

"There must have been a neurological connection between 
Mulder and the calling device in order for them to control 
his behavior."

"So when Langly smashed the device--"

"It was like hanging up a phone."

"Slamming it down, I'd say."

"It's possible such an abrupt disconnection could act like a 
blow to the head." Seeing Nick's slack-jawed stare, she 
hastened to explain. "You see they had a kind of transmitter 
that also--"

Nick held up both hands. "Later. I think I'd really rather 
hear this story over a cup of coffee--preferably with a shot 
of brandy.  Meanwhile, I'll schedule Mulder for an MRI to 
be on the safe side. You can go in and see him, but just for 
a few minutes."

Scully touched his arm. "Thanks, Nick. I'm sorry for 
dragging you in here at this hour. I know you'd already 
worked a full shift today."

He smiled and patted her hand. "De nada. One thing I can 
say about being Mulder's physician--it's never routine."

Grey followed Scully toward Mulder's room, slowing when 
he realized Skinner had remained behind. "Walt?"

"Go ahead. I'll straighten things out with the admitting 
doctor." 

Grey experienced a nasty case of dj vu when he walked 
into the room--the pungent smell, the dim lighting, and Fox 
lying so pale and still. Had it only been two weeks since 
that hospital in Virginia? His sense of anger and 
helplessness felt the same.

He moved closer, wincing at the sight of the bandages 
swathing his brother's shoulder. This time he was 
responsible for putting Fox in that bed.

Scully held Mulder's hand and stroked the hair back from 
his brow. When he opened his eyes, she smiled.

"Hey."

He blinked, struggling to focus on her face, and mumbled 
something unintelligible.

She leaned in closer. "What?"

He licked his lips. "Help me. Don'...don't want to go."

Scully looked at him blankly for a moment, then tears filled 
her eyes. "It's all right, Mulder. You're safe now. You're not 
going anywhere."

Mulder's eyes slid shut. Grey, thinking he'd fallen asleep, 
was startled when his brother spoke again.

"Knew...lies...couldn't stop."

"It wasn't your fault." Grey crossed to the other side of the 
bed. "They were controlling you through that damn rock.

He turned toward Grey's voice. When he opened his eyes, a 
tear rolled down his cheek and disappeared. "Too 
strong...God, couldn't stop."

Grey swallowed against the lump in his throat. "Hey, it's 
okay. It's over."

"Scully." Mulder lifted an unsteady hand to her cheek. 
"Hurt you."

"Shhh." She pressed a kiss to his palm, then resumed the 
soothing motion of her fingers through his hair. "Don't, 
love. I'm all right."

A nurse stuck her head in the doorway. "I'll be taking 
Agent Mulder down for his MRI in a few minutes. If you'd 
like to grab a cup of coffee he should be back in his room 
in about half an hour."

"Thank you." Scully looked down at Mulder, who had 
slipped into a doze, and lowered her voice. "Guess that's 
our cue." She kissed his forehead and walked to the door.

Grey lingered, watching the slow rise and fall of his 
brother's chest. He turned to leave but Fox's soft voice 
called him back.

"Grey."

"Yeah, Fox."

His brother touched his bandaged shoulder. "Thank you."

Eyes burning, all he could do was nod.


Continued in Chapter 21

Blood Ties 12: By the Road We Came (21/21)
By Dawn


Chapter 21

Georgetown
Friday
11:47 AM

Daytime television sucked.

Mulder tossed the remote on the coffee table, hissing when 
the movement pulled at his stitches. Tugging on the pillows 
at his back, he searched vainly for a comfortable position. 
No matter what he tried, something ached, throbbed, 
twinged, or spasmed. Besides the gunshot wound, he'd 
racked up a pretty impressive collection of cuts, scrapes, 
and bruises on his little jaunt through the forest.

Come to think of it, trees sucked, too.

Grey emerged from the kitchen, juggling two prescription 
bottles and a sandwich. "Time for your meds. Dana said to 
make sure you eat first." He wrinkled his nose. "She gave 
me a graphic description of what might happen if you 
don't."

"One of the perks to having a doctor in the family." Mulder 
scooted upright, grimacing.

"Here." Grey handed him the plate and adjusted his 
pillows.

Mulder peeked under the top slice of bread. "Roast beef 
and cheddar--hey! This looks like it's from Scooby's!"

"It is. I stopped by on my way over. Dana sounded so 
desperate to get to the grocery store, I figured the 
cupboards must be bare."

Mulder bit into the sandwich and hummed his approval. 
"God, I love Scooby's."

"I know." Grey watched him eat. "What do you want to 
drink?"

"Should be a pitcher of tea in the fridge."

Grey disappeared into the kitchen and returned with a large 
glass. He placed it on the coffee table within easy reach and 
sat down in an armchair.

"Thanks." Mulder took a sip and made a face. "Damn 
caffeine-free tea."

Grey popped up. "Hang on." Another trip to the kitchen and 
now he held a slice of fresh lemon in his hand. "Maybe this 
ease the pain."

Mulder swallowed and raised an eyebrow. "Uh...thanks."

Grey perched on the edge of his chair for a few minutes, 
then stood, rubbing his arms. "Seems a little chilly in here. 
Should I bump up the heat? Or I could get you a blanket."

His brother was halfway across the room before Mulder 
found his voice. "Grey?"

"Hmm?" He squinted at the thermostat, fiddling with the 
dial.

"What the hell is wrong with you?"

Grey gaped at him for a moment, then scowled. "Wrong 
with me? What's that supposed to mean?"

"You're acting strange."

"*Strange*?"

"Yeah, you know. All this." Mulder gestured around him. 
"The sandwich, the pillows, the lemon. What's up with 
that?"

Grey folded his arms. "What's...? Nothing is *up*. I'm just 
trying to help. Heck, it's not like I've never waited on you 
before."

"Yeah, but this is different. I mean, you're practically 
*hovering*. It reminds me of when Samantha broke my bat 
and she..." He broke off and narrowed his eyes.

"Look, if you don't want my help, that's fine. I'll just go eat 
my own lunch." Grey stalked toward the kitchen.

"You're beating yourself up because you had to shoot me."

Grey froze; his back and shoulders went rigid under his 
denim shirt. Mulder shoved aside his plate and sat up 
straighter, ignoring the pain. "That's bullshit, Grey."

His brother came back and sank into the chair. "You don't 
get it."

Mulder laughed. "You've got to be kidding. Guilt is my 
middle name."

"It's not guilt." When Mulder just looked at him, Grey 
amended, "Not exactly. Deep down I know there wasn't 
anything else I could have done."

"But?"

"It's not that simple."

"Sure it is. I was hurting Scully. And my debut as alien 
abductee was about to become a recurring role. You 
stopped it the only way you could."

"You're not hearing me. I know I did the right thing. I'm 
just having some trouble living with it." Grey pressed his 
clasped hands to his forehead and shut his eyes. "I can't 
shake it. The bullet spraying blood as it hits your shoulder. 
Your eyes opening wide, then squeezing shut when the pain 
kicks in. Dana's scream. You drop--" He pressed his lips 
tightly together.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't." Grey lowered his hands and looked at Mulder. "I 
don't mean for you to be sorry, Fox."

"You know, this isn't the first time I've been shot." Mulder 
smirked. "It isn't even the first time I've been shot by a 
family member--though technically Scully was just a good 
friend at the time."

Grey stared at him. "Is this the part where I'm supposed to 
feel better?"

"My shoulder hurts like hell. But it will heal. I'll heal. If 
they'd taken me...God, Grey. I couldn't do that again. I'm so 
damn grateful you were there."

They sat in awkward silence. Mulder picked up the rest of 
his sandwich, then cleared his throat.

"So if it helps you to, you know, hover, go right ahead."

Grey snorted. "That's big of you." He poked the remote 
with his toe. "Anything good on TV?"

"Nothing. If I see another talk show I might lose what's left 
of my mind. I was going to put on a movie."

"Yeah? Which one?"

"Plan 9 From Outer Space."

"Never heard of it. Is that some kind of campy Sci Fi 
flick?"

"You're kidding, right? You've never seen it? Plan 9 is a 
classic--the standard by which all Science Fiction movies 
should be measured."

"Uh-huh."

Mulder waved toward the kitchen. "Go get your lunch. 
You're in for a treat."

"Why do those words strike fear in my heart?"

"Very funny. You know, I liked you better when you were 
hovering."

"Just start the movie."

Mulder's smiled smugly. "If you insist."


4:36 PM


*The light beckons him--bright like the sun, but so cold. He 
shrinks back from its icy touch, but the voices whispering in 
his head reassure him and then it's not so bad. He needs it, 
needs Them, a craving far stronger than his one-time 
nicotine addiction.

"Mulder, stop! Don't do this!"

Scully's tear-filled eyes are almost as compelling as the 
light.

Almost.

He tightens his grip on her hair and shoves the gun under 
her chin, moving them both into the brilliance. Under the 
light Scully looks translucent, even her eyes washed of 
color.

"What are you doing? Mulder, no!" She's screaming now, 
fighting him despite the weapon.

He smiles. "Don't you get it, Scully? You're coming, too."*

Mulder bolted upright, panting. The dull throbbing in his 
shoulder dissolved the lingering images of his dream. He 
looked around, surprised to find himself lying on the couch.

"Hey. Are you all right?"

Scully turned on the lamp and moved into the room. 
Nodding, he shifted his legs so she could sit beside him. 
She tugged aside his tee shirt, checking his bandage, then 
brushed sweat-damp hair off his forehead.

"Monday, Mulder. We're getting this cut. There's 
something inherently wrong about your hair being longer 
than Grey's."

"Speaking of Grey--where did he go? We were watching a 
movie."

"That was four hours ago. You dropped off after the first 
thirty minutes. He said to tell you that you should seriously 
rethink your definition of a classic."

"He's at Kristen's?"

She nodded, linking her fingers with his. "He promised he'd 
stop by tomorrow before he leaves." Scully studied his 
face. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"Mulder, every muscle in your body just tensed up. Is it 
that Grey's going home? You know he doesn't have a 
choice--he's been on leave from work for nearly two 
months."

Mulder looked away, his face expressionless. "Of course he 
has to go home. He's put his life on hold for us...for me. It's 
not like he can hang around here indefinitely on the off 
chance I might lose it again."

Scully frowned. "What exactly was this latest nightmare 
about?"

He shrugged, careful to keep his tone light. "Just your 
standard post-attempted-alien-abduction trauma."

"Sometimes it helps to talk about it."

"Not this time."

Scully pressed on, despite his curt tone. "The device was 
destroyed, Mulder. You're not going to 'lose it' again." 
When he didn't answer, she tightened her fingers. "What 
are you thinking?"

He gazed at their joined hands. "That the device was just 
one means to an end. That either of us could be taken again, 
at any time. That the only way to free ourselves and 
eliminate the threat of colonization is by finding the proof 
that will expose Them." He sighed. "I can't run away from 
this, Scully. I have to go back to work. I have to go back to 
the Files."

Scully waited a beat before speaking. "Then I suppose it's a 
good thing Nick thinks you'll be cleared for duty in a few 
weeks."

Mulder lifted his head, searching her face. "You don't 
sound particularly surprised."

"Maybe because I'm not." She sat forward, turning to face 
him.

"But when we talked before I said--"

"Ten years, Mulder. You think I don't know you by now? It 
doesn't really matter what brought you to this quest for the 
Truth--the strategies of evil men or your own insatiable 
curiosity. You won't accept defeat. It's what I saw in you 
when we first met. It's why I followed you. And a part of 
why I fell in love with you."

"And look what it's gotten you."

Scully smiled. "I don't know. The view doesn't seem too 
bad."

"How can you say that? Consider what the years have cost 
you, Scully. Your abduction, Melissa's death, cancer, your 
ability to have children...

"And what have they brought you? Not Samantha, not even 
that concrete proof that extraterrestrial life exists. Nothing 
you set out to find. But even now, you won't give up." She 
cupped his cheek. "You've always said you want to believe, 
Mulder. So what is it you want to believe in?"

Mulder leaned into her touch and closed his eyes. "I want 
to believe that the dead aren't lost to us. That their 
sacrifices are part of a plan--one greater than any alien 
force. But most of all, I want to believe we can find the 
power to save ourselves."
 
Scully kissed him and rubbed her thumb lightly across his 
lower lip. "Then we believe the same thing."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure. Haven't you figured it out? I believe in *you*."

Mulder pulled her into his arms and pressed a kiss to her 
forehead. "Then maybe...maybe there is hope."


Concluded in the Epilogue





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From sunrise83@comcast.net Sat Apr 24 09:44:13 2004
Date: 2 Apr 2004 00:11:54 -0800
From: Dawn <sunrise83@comcast.net>
Newsgroups: alt.tv.x-files.creative
Subject: xfc: NEW: Blood Ties 12: By the Road We Came (epilogue)

Blood Ties 12: By the Road We Came (Epilogue)
By Dawn


Bethesda
Thursday
3:21 PM


Mulder stood on the porch for a full minute before finally 
pressing the bell. He shuffled his feet, tightening his grip on 
the package tucked beneath his arm. The door opened and 
he straightened his posture, wincing when his shoulder 
twinged.

Tomie peered through the screen, her face lighting up. 
"Well now, you're a sight for sore eyes. I was beginning to 
think you'd fallen off the face of the earth." She smiled. 
"No pun intended."

"Sorry for dropping by unannounced. If this is a bad 
time..."

"Nothing bad about it. I was just sitting down to a cup of 
coffee. Come join me." She ushered him inside before he 
could answer.

Mulder followed the familiar path to the kitchen. He raised 
an eyebrow at the spotless countertops. "No Bread? 
Cookies?"

"Ah, well. We old ladies run out of steam now and then, 
don't we? But I can pull out the pie pans if it'll make you 
happy."

Mulder grinned. "The coffee will be fine, thanks. Oh, and 
this is for you. For when you do decide to pull out those 
pans." He placed the wrapped package into her hands. 
"Consider it an early Christmas present."

Frowning a little as she hefted it, Tomie tore off a bit of the 
paper and burst into hearty laughter.

"I figured I owed you one." Mulder watched as she 
removed the rest of the wrapping from the five-pound bag 
of flour. "More than one, actually."

"I'll see that you and Dana reap some of the benefits from 
this." Tomie set the flour on the counter. "So, how are you 
doing? It's been more than four weeks."

"Yeah. There was a...situation. I was injured and--"

"I know." She motioned for him to sit and picked up the 
coffeepot. "Dana called me right after you came home from 
the hospital. How's the shoulder?"

"She told you everything?"

"She gave me the bare bones." Tomie set a mug of coffee 
on the table in front of him and eyed him cautiously. "Are 
you angry?"

"No, I just..." Mulder frowned. "I'm not sure why she didn't 
tell me she talked to you."

"She didn't want to pressure you. She hoped if she gave you 
some space you'd make the decision to come back here on 
your own." Tomie collected her own mug and sat across 
from him. "Have you?"

Mulder rotated the cup between his palms. "I'm here, aren't 
I?"

"True. But then, we could just be two friends having a chat 
over a bag of flour, now, couldn't we?" When Mulder's lips 
twitched weakly, she continued, "I try not to make 
assumptions, Mulder. Every time I do they come back to 
bite me in the ass."

"I stopped taking the Paxil. And the sedative." Mulder 
looked squarely into her eyes.

Tomie just nodded. "Flashbacks?"

"Only one or two a week. And they're not as intense."

"Sleeping?"

Mulder shrugged. "I've struggled with that most of my life. 
It's no worse now than it's ever been."

"Sounds like you're feeling better."

"I am."

"So why are you here?"

"You're not buying the two old friends bit?"

Tomie sighed. "Back to the mind games? I thought we were 
past that, kiddo."

Mulder pushed aside the mug and sat back in his chair. "I'm 
here because there are some things I can't talk about to 
anyone else." He looked away. "Not even Scully."

Tomie's voice gentled. "Fair enough." She sipped her 
coffee until he spoke.

"Scully's told you about the device? How They...called 
me?"

"She did." Tomie paused, then added, "I know I don't have 
to tell you that you're not responsible for anything you did 
while under its influence."

Mulder waved a hand. "I've dealt with that. I hate what I 
did to Scully, but even I recognize how powerless I was."

"Okay."

Mulder stood and walked over to the window, facing away 
from her. "I was out there, in the middle of nowhere. No 
one in sight. They could have taken me at any time."

"But Dana and Grey found you."

"Hours later."

"Soon enough to stop you from being abducted a second 
time. You were very lucky."

"That's what's bothering me."

Tomie shook her head. "You're going to have to spell it out, 
Mulder. I have no idea where you're going with this."

Mulder turned around. "The device worked; I was right 
where they wanted me to be. What were They waiting for?"

"You obviously have a theory."

Mulder rubbed at the headache building over his right eye. 
"They came as soon as I grabbed Scully."

Tomie leaned forward, frowning. "Meaning?"

"I think they intended to take us both."

Tomie blinked, fumbling for a response. "That's one hell of 
a leap, Mulder."

"Believe me, I've given this a lot of thought. I've gone over 
it from every angle. I *want* to be wrong."

"But you don't think you are."

"What was the point in sending me back only to take me 
again a few weeks later? Why not just keep me? And if 
they wanted me so damn bad, why not beam me up and get 
the hell out of Dodge when They had the chance?" Mulder 
sank back into his chair. "They let me go for a reason. I was 
bait, Tomie. They were using me to get Scully."

Tomie's brown eyes were warm, her voice gentle. "If that's 
true it puts a whole new spin on things. You haven't shared 
this with Dana?"

"No. And for now, I don't intend to."

"You don't think she has the right to know?" she asked 
sharply. "That's bullshit, Mulder."

"You don't understand."

"Enlighten me."

Mulder closed his eyes as he sucked in a calming breath. 
"Scully had cancer five years ago. It was a direct result of 
her abduction. She nearly died."

"I'm sorry. But I still don't see how that justifies your 
keeping this from her."

"The cancer could return at any time. Scully is one of the 
bravest people I know, and she's done a damn fine job of 
putting aside her fear. But that tiny seed of doubt is always 
there, Tomie. When she's exhausted, or has a headache, or 
a nosebleed. It's a burden she lives with day to day." 
Mulder clenched his jaw. "I will NOT add to that burden."

"I see." Tomie swirled the dregs of coffee in her cup. "I'll 
admit I don't know Dana well, but from what I've seen she's 
not the kind of woman who'd appreciate you playing the 
protector. You do realize this could all blow up in your 
face? It'll be bad enough if Dana finds out you've been less 
than honest with her. But if something should happen, if 
she's taken--"

"She won't be."

"You know you can't guarantee that."

"I'll find a way." Mulder spoke through clenched teeth. "I'm 
going to stop Them, Tomie. Maybe not tomorrow, or next 
week, or even next year. But I believe I will find a way to 
put an end to this, once and for all. If that makes me crazy, 
well..." He shrugged.

"Maybe I'm the crazy one. I believe you just might do it." 
Tomie patted his hand. "And what about you? How are you 
holding up under your burdens?"

"By taking each day as it comes, I guess." Mulder 
grimaced. "Right now ending the threat of alien invasion 
doesn't seem nearly as impossible as getting on an elevator 
without breaking into a cold sweat."

"Ah, now ya see, you're in luck. I can't help you with the 
first part, but I'm sure we can work on the second. Provided 
you're willing, of course."

"Well...I suppose there are those pies to make." 

Tomie chuckled. "Before I'm through with you, you'll be 
baking Dana's birthday cake with your own two hands." 
She looked intently into his eyes. "You're going to be all 
right, Mulder."

Her words startled a smile onto his lips and a little of the 
weight lifted from his shoulders. "Yeah. I think I will be." 

For the first time, he believed it.


END

Author's Notes: Wow! What a ride! Thank you to the 
readers braved a WIP and made this 8-month journey with 
me. Your kind words of encouragement have made it a 
wonderful experience. And major thanks to my wonderful 
team of betas: To Suzanne, for making sure the medical 
stuff was accurate. To Deb, not just for beta, but for the 
title suggestion and the incredible webpage design. To 
Vickie, for cheering me onward and keeping them all in 
character. And to TCS1121 for making me work hard for 
every chapter. (Grey's on his way over, hon. You earned 
it!)