TITLE: Cul-de-sac
AUTHOR: Wendy Williams
E-MAIL ADDRESS: wenwill@usa.net
RATING: PG
CATEGORY: HAX, MSR
KEYWORDS: alternate universe, satire, some badfic
SPOILERS: None

SUMMARY: Mulder and Scully find themselves in an alternate
universe of a well-known alternate universe.

FEEDBACK: Feedback can be directed to wenwill@usa.net
After reading this, you might also want to send feedback
to nvrgrim@aol.com  :-D

DISCLAIMER:  This is the Reader's Digest Condensed Version:
"The X-Files" and its characters are the creations and
property of the Chris Carter, Ten Thirteen Productions
and Fox Broadcasting.  All other characters/virtual cameos
were used with permission (see Special Thanks at the end),
or are my own.

............................................................

THE GENESIS OF CUL-DE-SAC:

1. In the beginning, there was a fanfic author who
created an alternate universe.  2. She said, "Of the two,
let the female be blind, and let them be on the road."
3. And it was good.  4. Very good, in fact.  5. X-Philes
beheld the fanfic, and didst clamor for more.

6. Over the years, the fanfic author posted more manna from
heaven on atxc.  7. X-Philes rejoiced and didst heap awards
upon her.  8. And she became a Guru in their eyes.

9. But then there was silence, for the space of two years.

10. There came another author; her name was Wendy.  11. She
herself was not a Guru of Fanfic; but she was given
permission by the Guru to write an ending, utilizing the
styles of satire and badfic.

12. For forty days and forty nights did Wendy work on her
creation.  13. And when it was finished, she named it
"Cul-de-sac."

14. What then, is the purpose of "Cul-de-sac?"  15.  It is
for the enjoyment of Philes who wait impatiently for the
Guru to finish her wondrous creation.  16. For behold the
Guru of Fanfic saith, "Chill out Dudes, I'm workin' on it."


.........................................................


Cul-de-sac
by Wendy Williams
wenwill@usa.net



Early morning rays of sunshine filtered through the windows
of the studio loft. Mulder watched as tiny particles of dust
from the barn swirled around in an unseen current and landed
in the hair of his sleeping partner, cradled against his chest.

He longed to share this vision of beauty with her but he
hesitated, knowing that he would never be able to describe
the sheer beauty that surrounded them.

It was quite a contrast from yesterday, he thought. The
serene calmness that presently enveloped the barn was
nowhere to be found the day before, when he had first set
foot on this property.

Mulder tried to push the visions out of his eidetic memory.
The escape from Christopher.  His race against time to find
Scully.  Rescuing her from the clutches of certain disaster
at the hands evil thugs -- only to almost lose her in the
mine to a fallen platform.

"No," he found himself whispering into her hair. "No more."

"What?" asked Scully, groggily.  She stirred and stretched
herself gradually back into the land of the conscious.

Before he could explain, they heard someone calling from
outside in the yard.

"Samm! Sa-amm!"

Scully's head jerked up, and Mulder was instantly on alert.

"Is that Reba?" asked Scully.

"I don't know," Mulder answered.  "You've been her house
guest longer."

Scully cocked her head. "It sounds like her.  But I -- I
never told her about your sister."

The voice from outside got louder, until the two heard the
door to the studio being opened.

"Samm! Samm!  Where are you?" cried Reba as she wandered
up the stairs to the loft.  "Oh, I'm sorry to bother you,"
she said when she came into Mulder's view, "but I'm looking
for my daughter, Samm."

"You have a daughter?" Scully asked.  "Eli never told me
you had a daughter."

"We do now, Liza.  You and Rich have been holed up in this
studio loft for quite some time now.  But life went on for
the rest of us."  Reba checked under the bed for her toddler.

"What do you mean?  I've haven't even been here 24 hours!"
exclaimed Mulder, as he sat up quickly in bed.

"I hate to break it to you, but it's 1999," said Reba,
as she opened the closet door and pushed aside the
clothes.

"What!" exclaimed Mulder and Scully simultaneously.

"Samm, this isn't funny! Come out here at once!" Reba
commanded.  But the little one was nowhere to be found.
"Yeah, you've been here since the end of February '97!
Eli and I thought you two needed some time alone together,
what with all you've been through."

"But two years?!?"  asked Scully incredulously.

"Well, we didn't think it would have been polite to disturb
you."

"Two years?!?" echoed Mulder.

Reba closed the closet door, having run out of hiding places
to search for Samm.

"While you two lovebirds have been up here, Eli and I got
married and we had a little baby girl we named Samantha Ann
Melissa Margaret.  But we call her Samm for short, although
it's spelled with two m's," explained Reba as she made her
way back to the staircase.  "And, Liza, remember that
waitress you told Coopey about?"

Scully nodded in what she thought was Reba's general
direction.  "Uh-huh," she said slowly, not knowing what to
anticipate.

"Well, Coopey ran off to find her, and I just received a
phone call the other day from him.  He and Rayenne are
going to get married!"

Reba gave the loft one more quick look-over and then
went down one of the steps.  Turning to them, she said,
"I'm sorry for disturbing you, but I really need to go
find my daughter."

"It's amazing with that child!" she said as she started
down the steps.  "You turn your eyes away for a second
and she's gone! Poof!  Just like that."

And then Reba disappeared out of sight, leaving Mulder and
Scully in a stunned silence.

Finally, Mulder turned to Scully,  "So... you hungry?"


XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX


The bomb in his duffel bag wasn't designed to kill many
people; it was just meant to send a message.  And it was
his job to deliver that message.

He had been in this kind of specialized communications
business for most of his life.  He was very good at
getting his messages across, and he knew that with
another successful delivery, he was one step further
from becoming the uncontested head of the late
Christopher's crime family.

Floyd had always wondered what happened to his old boss
in Santa Fe.  He had just started working for Christopher
when his boss left to take out his revenge on those two
former FBI agents.  But Christopher never returned, and
it seemed as if he had fallen off the face of the earth.

Floyd was used to these kinds of disappearances -- he had
even orchestrated them.  But while it was one thing for
some renegade FBI agents to disappear, it was quite another
thing for Christopher to vanish without a trace.

He thought of the chaos and power struggle that had ensued.
And although he deeply regretted offing some of his
friends, he knew that it was what he had to do to come
out on top.  And this mission was no different.

One of his contacts in Albuquerque was becoming a bit of
a problem.  Blowing up a nearly empty bus in the outskirts
of New Mexico would serve as a final warning, without
drawing too much attention from the national press.
Plus, if he was successful, no one would ever know it
was a bomb -- except for his contact.

Floyd carefully slid the blue duffel bag off his left
shoulder and placed it at his feet under the bench.
He had some time to spare before his bus arrived, and he
wanted to go over the plan in his mind one more time.


XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX


The Yugo was cramped and uncomfortable, but Mulder didn't
mind.  Eli and Reba were up front and Scully and Mulder
were squashed in the back with little Samantha, who had
been found earlier hiding under the porch.

If this was the only way that he and Scully could get to
the bus station together, Mulder thought, he'd take it.
Going separately was not an option in his mind anymore.

He wished Scully could see how happy he was to have found
her.  For a moment, he shuddered to think what might have
happened if he hadn't found her, or if he would have been
too late.  He feared that if he had never found her -- and
if old wives' tales were true -- there might be two blind
former FBI agents.  And one blind former FBI agent was
bad enough, he thought.

Eli pulled the Yugo into the parking lot at the bus station.

"Here we are.  I'll drop everybody off and go find a
parking spot while you buy the tickets," he said as he
pulled up to the drop-off point.

Mulder helped Scully out of the Yugo, and Reba went around
to the other side, removed Samm from her car seat, and
gathered all of her baby things. Eli got out, opened up
the hatch, and pulled out Mulder and Scully's bags.  Then
he jumped back into the driver's seat and drove off.

"Don't wait for me," Reba said as she began strapping Samm
into her stroller. "You don't have too much time.  Go on in
and buy your tickets.  We'll wait for Eli out here with
your bags.  He can carry them in."

"See you at the ticket area," said Mulder, as he began
leading Scully to the sidewalk.

They made their way into the bus terminal, and with each
step, Mulder felt Scully's grip on his arm tightening.
He knew that she must have been frightened because of
all of the strange sounds.  But he also knew that she
would never admit it to him.

"How are you doing?" he asked in vain.

"I'm fine,"  she replied, but her grip continued to tighten
in consistent increments.

"We're almost at the ticket counter," Mulder assured her.

"Good," came the reply.

"And even though the station is full, Eli told me that our
bus should be virtually empty."

"Even better."

Mulder steered her to the ticket line and they stood there
in silence until it was their turn.

"Two tickets to Los Angeles via Phoenix, please," said
Mulder.

"With our special rate, that will be $138," said the
woman behind the ticket counter, who was a little too
perky for 7 a.m.

Mulder handed her three $50 bills.  She processed the
tickets and gave him his change.  "Your tickets are in
the envelope and you will be boarding over there," she
said as she pointed off to the left.

"Hey Rich, we're over here!" called out Eli.  Mulder
spotted him and slipped his arm around Scully's,
leading her over to where Eli, Reba, and Samm were
standing.

"Here's your change," said Mulder, as he dug around for
the bills and coins he had pocketed.

"Nah, you keep it," protested Eli. "You'll need it for
meals."

"Thanks," said Scully, "we owe you so much... how can
we ever repay you?"

Eli put his arm on her shoulder and said, "Liza, do
not even give it a second thought.  I have the feeling
that there are a lot of people who owe you, too."

The loud speaker crackled, "Bus 307 to Phoenix. Passengers
may begin boarding."

It was time to say good-bye, and so the four of them hugged
each other and Mulder and Scully each promised to call Eli
and Reba when they reached Los Angeles.  And although there
were only tears from Samm, who was becoming increasingly
impatient, the four of them knew that they would be
experiencing a void when they parted ways.


XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX


"Penny for your thoughts," offered Mulder as he watched his
partner.  Other than the two of them, there was only one
other passenger left in the bus.  The rest had gotten off
at other stops in Albuquerque.  And now that the bus was
heading towards its Phoenix destination, the ride was very
quiet.  Mulder had thought that Scully would have taken this
opportunity to sleep, but instead he found her sightless
eyes staring out the window.

"Do you think I'll ever be able to see again?" whispered
Scully.

"I don't know.  But I can assure you that I will spend
the rest of my life trying to make that happen."  Mulder
pulled her closer.  "If I could, I'd even give you one of
my corneas, but I already know that no doctor would ever
let me go through with it."

"Why is that?" she asked.

"I guess I never told you this, but when I was a kid, I
had a corneal transplant," he admitted.

"You never told me that!" she exclaimed, wondering what
other secrets he might have hidden from her.

"Well, I don't like to talk about it, but a couple years
after Samantha was abducted, I was injured playing
basketball.  I took an elbow to my left eye, and it did
a number on my cornea," he said, reliving the pain.

"Why didn't you ever tell me that before?"

"Well, it's kind of embarrassing.  It makes my pupils dilate
differently, and so I'm kind of self-conscious about it.
That's part of the reason I began working on the X-Files,"
Mulder confessed.

"I thought it was because of your sister?" asked Scully,
confused.

"Well, she was one of the main reasons, but another reason
I like working on X-files is because we usually seem to be
working in dark environments," he admitted.

"I never knew that you were light sensitive."

"It's not exactly that..."

"Then what is it?" she persisted.

"Well, if we always worked in the dark, then I figured
that you'd never notice my eyes."

Scully was taken aback.  "What do you mean?"

"You know how they say that the eyes are the window to
the soul?" Mulder explained, "I just thought that you
might not be able to love me if you saw that my pupils
didn't dilate equally."

"Mulder, that's the silliest thing I have ever heard!"
exclaimed Scully, a little too loudly.  "How could you
even think that?"

"Sshhh!" whispered Mulder as he put his finger to her
lips. "Remember, we're still Rich and Liza!"

"I'm sorry," she whispered through his finger. "I
forgot."

"Besides it doesn't matter any more,"  Mulder said as he
nuzzled Scully's cheek.  "I think we've both discovered
that we like each other."

"Like each other?" Scully echoed.

"Well, I guess that's a little bit of an understatement,"
Mulder said as he kissed her.

Scully laughed into his lips, "A little bit of an
understatement?"

Mulder was about to respond when he noticed, from the
corner of his eye, the other passenger bounding towards
them.  The man reached into his coat and pulled out a
gun.

"GUN!"  Mulder shouted as he pushed Scully down and leapt
out of his seat to ambush the gunman.  It wasn't the
smartest move, but Mulder was counting on the element
of surprise to keep him from getting a good shot.

It worked, and Mulder was able to grab a hold of the
gun while it was still in the man's hand, redirecting
a bullet that had been meant for Scully.

Scully jumped reflexively as she heard the loud bang of
the gun and the subsequent shattering of the window
next to her. Shards of glass covered her hair and her
jacket.  But she stayed huddled in the position that Mulder
had pushed her into, willing herself to disappear into
her seat.

The bus came to a screeching halt.  Scully assumed that the
driver had pulled onto the shoulder, because she could hear
the sounds of cars whizzing past them.  She desperately
prayed that someone would suspect that they were in trouble,
and call for help on their cell phone.

"Keep driving!" ordered the gunman, as he whipped the gun
out of Mulder's hands, and pointed it at the driver.

Seconds later, Scully felt the bus easing onto the highway
and gaining speed.  She was terrified now because this
lessened their chance for survival.

"I've been waiting two year for this, Fox Mulder!"  Floyd
panted as he shook off a right hook to the face.  "Although
I have you to thank for my present career status, I feel
that I still must avenge Christopher's death."

Mulder bent down and scooped up a blue duffel bag lying
nearby on the floor of the bus. He figured that, at best,
he might be able to use it as a weapon.  At worst, it
would be a flimsy shield.

"PUT THAT DOWN!" ordered Floyd, "NOW!"

Not one to obey orders, much less those from a thug, Mulder
refused to comply.

"Drop your weapon!" Mulder demanded, trying to anticipate
the gunman's next move.  Then he rushed the gunman and
rammed him with the duffel bag, slamming the two of them
to the floor.  Floyd's weapon was sent flying at the impact.

Suddenly, a long high-pitched beep was emitted from the
inside of the bag.

"PUNK!" exclaimed Floyd.  "You activated the bomb!"

Scully heard the sounds of a scuffle ensuing and tried to
translate what she was hearing into a mental image.  She
yelled to the bus driver, "Stop the bus!"

"NO!" yelled Floyd.  "There's a bomb on this bus, and if
we stop, it'll blow up!"

"I've already seen that movie," grunted Mulder as he tried
to restrain the gunman.

Floyd pushed Mulder off his body and gestured for a momentary
truce to explain.  "I placed a bomb in the undercarriage of
this bus before I got on board.  I had intended to get off
with the other passengers outside of town, and then activate
the bomb by remote control.  But my instincts told me to stay
on board."

He continued. "Christopher would be so proud of me right now.
I guess my instincts were right," he said, staring down Mulder.
"If I had not listened to them, you two would have died, but
Christopher's death would not have truly been avenged."

"Should we be happy about that?" spat out Mulder sarcastically.
He broke Floyd's stare to try to find the gun.  He located it
with his eyes at the same time Floyd did.  It lay almost
directly in between the two men, although off to the side.

"In a way, you have something to be happy about.  It looks
like I will lose my life avenging Christopher's,"  Floyd spat,
and then suddenly lunged for the gun. "Maybe you can't win
them all, but in a way I have!"

He was only a fraction of a second faster than Mulder, but
that was all Floyd needed to grab a hold of the gun and fire
it at the driver.

Scully heard a muffled "Oof" before the bus began to sway
out of control. This was followed by the shuffling sounds
of Mulder and Floyd, and the two continued their struggle.
Scully knew that she had to do something.

She was not going to take any chances.  Although she had
seen that same movie, too, she didn't want to gamble that
Floyd wasn't telling the truth.  She also knew that at
the very least, she had to regain control of the bus so
that other innocent drivers wouldn't get hurt.

The bus began to fishtail as the weight of the dead driver
shifted on the steering wheel.  Scully left her hiding
place and began making her way, as quickly as she could,
towards the front.

She steadied herself, telling her mind that this was no
different than when she and her father used to sail on
choppy seas.  Mentally transforming her sea legs into bus
legs, she used the seats to guide her to the driver.  She
prayed that Mulder would be able to gain the upper hand
with the gunman quickly.

When she came upon the bus driver, she tried to stabilize
the steering wheel, while at the same time feeling for a
pulse.  It didn't take her very long to conclude that
the man was already dead.  So she gave his body a push
and it slid out of the way.

Suddenly, the bus lost power and slowed considerably.

"Stomp on the gas, Scully!" cried Mulder as he was attempting
to pin the gunman.  "The roads are straight here.  Keep the
bus going the way it is now, and we'll be okay.  I'll tell
you when we'll need to turn."

Scully wedged herself into the seat and reached down to and
felt for the driver's legs.  They were tangled between the
seat and the pedals, so she pulled them up and away from
her.  Then she pressed on the gas pedal, and the bus roared
back to what she presumed a safe speed.

While she continued to hear Mulder and the gunman struggling,
Scully tried to feel around for a CB radio, or a cell phone
or something that she could use to call for help.  But she
was unable to distinguish the objects beneath her fingers,
so she gave up, and decided to bare down on the bus' horn.

Eventually, Mulder managed to pin Floyd against the back
exit of the bus.  Floyd struggled, but Mulder dropped him
to the floor and pressed his knee to the gunman's back.
"You're goin' nowhere, bud!"

Mulder knew he couldn't take the chance of having his
captive break free if he tried to moved up closer to the
front.  So he decided to stay put, yelling driving
directions up to Scully.

But just to play it safe, Mulder shoved Floyd's gun up the
aisle towards Scully.  It slammed to a stop, partially wedged
under the driver's body.

Panicked, Scully released her grip from the bus' horn and
yelled back to Mulder, "What was that?"

"It's just his gun!"  Mulder shouted. "I'm okay back here,
and you're doing fine, Scully!"  He surveyed the road ahead.
They were passing through an intersection, and he was
thankful the light was green.

"Just steer at 1 o'clock for a second or two."

Scully turned the steering wheel to the 1 o'clock
position.

"There, now we are lined up.  Go back to 12 o'clock."

The bus righted its course.

"The road is virtually empty now, so you won't have to
blow the horn anymore.  There's a divided highway up
ahead, and then there'll be plenty of room.  Just keep
going straight."

"Now, where were we?" asked Mulder rhetorically as he
turned his attention to the man pinned beneath him.
"We haven't been properly introduced.  You seem to know
who we are.  Who are you?"

"I am Floyd, but you probably know my family a little bit
better.  I'm sure you remember Christopher and Vince."

"How did you find us?"

"Actually, you found me.  I was on this bus for other
business.  But I couldn't help overhearing your conversation
with Dana, and I figured that I could kill two birds with
one stone."

"Well, too bad you're going to miss on both accounts."

Mulder turned his attention to the road ahead and noticed
train tracks off to their left.

"Scully," he called out, "I just got an idea."

He thought for a second and told her, "There are some
train tracks running parallel to this road.  If we turn
at the blue hotel up ahead, we can cut across to the
tracks and by-pass all the traffic."

"Okay Mulder," Scully yelled back, "but remember, telling
me to turn at the blue hotel up ahead isn't very helpful."

"Sorry!" he apologized.  "You can start slowing down.  I'll
give you to the count of five to turn the wheel to nine
o'clock.  The faster I count, the faster you turn, so that
the wheel is at nine o'clock by the time I get to the number
five.  Then, I'll count down from five to one, as you turn
the wheel back to the 12 o'clock position.  Got it?"

Scully took a deep breath.  "Got it."

"Here comes our turn, and the light is green.  So get ready."

Scully prepared herself for the turn.

"One-two-three-four-five."

In synchrony, Scully turned the wheel to nine o'clock and
then began turning it back.

"Five-four-three-two-ONEFF!" cried Mulder as Floyd flipped
around and knocked the wind out of him, escaping from his hold.

Scully said another quick silent prayer as she heard the two
men resume fighting, hoping that the street they were now on
was empty, and that Mulder would be able to regain control of
Floyd soon.  She needed him to tell her when to turn onto the
railroad tracks.

Mulder punched Floyd a couple of times, but was on the
receiving end of many more well-aimed blows.  As he was
fending Floyd, he saw that the bus was veering off to the
right.

"Eleven o'clock and then back!"  he croaked out, right before
the bus was about to hit the curb. Scully reacted quickly, and
the bus narrowly missed jumping onto the sidewalk and plowing
into a restaurant.

"Good, we almost at the train tracks!" he yelled.

Suddenly Scully heard Mulder scream in pain, and could
only guess at what torture Floyd was inflicting on him.
Although Mulder's gut-wrenching cries tore at her heart,
she knew that driving the bus was more important to their
safety.

Seconds later she felt the wheels vibrate underneath her
and the accompanying sounds confirmed that these were
the train tracks that Mulder had told her about.
Scully made a sharp right, and after a couple of failed
attempts, managed to get the bus to straddle the tracks.

The shocks rebelled as the wheels pounded the rail ties, and
the ride became violently bumpy.  But Scully was thankful for
this, because this was the very kind of feedback that she
could use to help steer a course down the tracks.

Suddenly her partner let out a shriek, and then there was
deathly silence.  Scully's heart sank, but she didn't have
time to process any of it because she heard Floyd coming
her way.  She jerked the steering wheel back and forth so
that the bus pitched even more violently, knocking Floyd off
balance. She hoped that his lack of having bus legs would
buy her some time.

Determined not to give up the fight, she shifted her right
foot off the gas pedal and resumed pressure with the left.
Then, with her left hand firmly gripping the steering wheel,
she reached down with the right and felt around for the gun
she remembered that Mulder had kicked her way.

Floyd continued working his way to the front of the bus.  But
thanks to Scully, more than once he had lost his balance and
crashed into a seat.

However, he was a man with a mission.  He had successfully
rendered Mulder unconscious, and now the plan was to exact
Christopher's vengeance upon Scully and then jump off of the
bus.  And after that, he could let the bomb finish his work
for him.

He saw Scully searching frantically for his gun, which he
noticed was several inches from her range.  All he had to do
was get to it before she did.

Suddenly, the bus bucked sharply, and Floyd was sent flying
into a seat.  Scully was also knocked off balance, but while
riding this latest "wave," her hands collided with the gun on
the floor, and she scooped it up.

Floyd shook off the pain from his crash-landing and resumed
his journey to the front of the bus, never noticing that
Scully's left arm was tucked in front of her.  All he saw
was his new-found nemesis struggling to maintain control
of the steering wheel while staying seated at the same time.

When he got close enough to her, he reached out and grabbed
her hair. "You're mine now!"

Scully screamed, but determinedly turned her body 180
degrees toward Floyd.  Patches of her hair ripped from
her scalp, but she ignored the pain.  With the deftness
of an FBI agent, she found his stomach with the point of
the gun, and squeezed the trigger.

The bullet exploded out of the gun.  The thud and subsequent
silence Scully heard confirmed that her shot had been deadly.

She breathed a sigh of relief and turned her attention back
to Mulder.

"Mulder!"  Scully cocked her head, waiting for a sign -- any
sign -- of life from the back of the bus.

She waited a few more seconds and called out again. "Mulder!"

This time she was rewarded with a soft groan.

"Mulder, you have to get up," she urged. "Come on,
you have to come up here!"

"Aaahhh... uuh-huh," was the response.  Mulder shook
himself out of his fog, only to be overwhelmed with
a headache and rebellious stomach.

He vomited, but that didn't make him feel any better.
He spit several times, trying to clear the foul taste of
bile out of his mouth.

Being jostled about like a rag doll wasn't helping his
stomach settle, but Mulder summoned his strength and
began his pilgrimage to the front of the bus.

Suddenly, Mulder and Scully both heard a train whistle in
the distance.  Mulder strained his head to look out the
windshield and saw a train, not even a hundred yards
ahead.

"Get off the tracks!" he yelled.  Scully was already
wrestling with the steering wheel, desperately trying
to get the wheels of the bus to jump the tracks.

With seconds to spare, the bus careened off into
the surrounding wilderness, avoiding certain disaster.
Scully desperately fought with the steering wheel to
prevent it from tipping over.

Mulder clung to a bus seat and fervently prayed that
his stomach would retreat from his mouth and go back
into his abdomen. "We're okay," he assured her, "this is
desert territory.  Just keep going.  You're not going to
hit anything out here."

Mulder breathed a sigh of relief, but figured that he didn't
need to share with Scully just how close they had come to
meeting their Maker.

Now, _all_ they had to do was find a good place to jump off.

Mulder finally reached the front of the bus, and he stepped
over the bodies so that he could stand closer to his
partner. "That's some wicked driving you've been doing!"
he said as he patted her shoulder.

She turned and favored his belt with a smile. "Look Mul,
no hands!" she laughed, reaching for the sky.

Suddenly, the engine sputtered, and their laugher immediately
vanished.  He looked over to the gas gauge, and sure enough,
the needle was on the E.

"We've gotta get out of here!" he exclaimed, adrenaline
pumping.  Simultaneously pulling the lever for the door
with his right hand, and hooking his left arm around her,
he catapulted from the stalling bus.

The earth broke their fall rather harshly, but Mulder counted
his blessings.  The bus continued sputtering and choking for
another fifty yards and exploded.

Mulder grabbed Scully and shielded her from the falling debris
with his body.  Only when he was sure that nothing else was
going to land on them did he roll off of her.

"Are you okay?" he asked, as he inspected her for injuries.

"Yeah," she panted "are you?"

"I've got an awful taste in my mouth and my head is killing me.
Plus, I'm guessing that it won't be long before the bruises
from my pummeling start to appear.  But," he shrugged, "we're
alive, and that's all that matters to me now."

"Where are we?"

Mulder looked around.  "We're in the middle of nowhere."
He shaded his eyes and squinted.  "Unless I'm seeing a mirage,
I think there's a road up ahead.  Um, maybe 200 yards.  Do you
think you can make it?"

She eased herself gingerly into a sitting position. "I
think so."

Mulder slowly stood up and then helped her get up.  He wrapped
his arm around her shoulders and she wrapped hers around his
waist.  And together, they made their way towards the road in
the desert sun.


XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX


His watch had taken a licking, but it wasn't ticking anymore.
He tried to judge the time from the position of the sun, but
his head wasn't cooperating with looking up.

At first, they had celebrated getting to the road.  But then
their happiness evaporated when no one drove by after Mulder
guessed an hour had passed.  He noticed that his partner
was slowing, and her breathing became more labored.  Although
he knew she would never admit it, he suspected that trying to
control the bus on the train tracks had worn her out.  And he
wasn't faring all that well, either.

They slowly hobbled along the shoulder of the road until
Scully stopped.  "We need to rest," she said quietly.

"_We've_ got to keep moving.  No one's going to drive by and
pick us up," urged Mulder.

"What good is it going to do to keep walking?  Civilization
is miles away.  Am I right?"

"Yeah."  Mulder acquiesced.

"Then let's find some shade, and lie down."

He broke the news to her gently. "There's no shade in sight."

"Well, then this place is as good as any."

Scully released her grip from Mulder's waist and settled
herself gently onto the shoulder of the road.  Mulder followed
in suit, and closed his eyes.

Moments later, Scully heard the rhythmic breathing of a
sleeping man.  It didn't surprise her, knowing how exhausted
he must have been from his battles with Floyd.

"I love you," she whispered, and moments later she slipped
with him into unconsciousness.

End Part 1
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
CUL-DE-SAC  (2/4)
Wendy Williams


Strawberries.  Mulder had lost consciousness many times in his
life, but never had he regained his senses to the taste of
strawberries.  He was puzzled, and even more perplexed when he
realized that the strawberries were cold and in liquid form.
He was too tired and his head hurt too much to open his eyes,
so he decided to lick his lips again, to see if he was having
an oral hallucination.

*Yep,* he thought, *those are strawberries.*  Actually, he
corrected himself, it was a strawberry margarita.  And it was
just right. Not crunchy.  Well-blended.

"Want some more?"  asked a throaty voice.

Mulder decided that he was in heaven.  Sure, he still hurt
from his leap from the bus, but he was positive that this had
to be in heaven.  *The pain will go away eventually.* he told
himself. Though he still hadn't opened his eyes, he was
convinced that his head was resting in the lap of a beautiful
angel who was going to minister to his every need.

"Yes...," he replied dreamily, and then opened his eyes to see
the lovely vision...of a nun...staring down...at him.

A nun.

And not just any nun.  He could tell from her habit, that she
was a Reverend Mother.

"Jesus!" he exclaimed, under his breath.  He shook himself
out of his fog and tried to focus his eyes. *No. Correct that.
_Mary_.* he thought.

"There, there, take it easy!"  The nun was patting his arm
now.  "You've had a pretty rough go of it, and it's a good
thing that we found you and your friend just now, or you two
would be dead."

"Where is she?"  Mulder demanded, as much as he asked.  He
tried to lift his head off of the Reverend Mother's lap, but
she pushed it back down.

"She's okay, the others are ministering to her.  But you
have a head injury, and I need to attend to you.  Would you
like more to drink?"

"Yeah, but shouldn't I be drinking water?" asked Mulder.

"Yes.  Yes, you should.  But unfortunately, this is all we've
got -- unless you just want to chew on plain ice."

"I think that would be better." he rasped.

The Reverend Mother turned and yelled at one of the other nuns
huddled off to her right.  "Sister Autumn!  Could you bring me
some ice from the cooler?"

"Is it an emergency?" asked the sister, "I'm too busy attending
to her." she said as she pointed in Scully's direction.

"Okay," sighed the Reverend Mother, "I'll get it myself."  She
gently placed Mulder's head on the ground and ran back to a
mini-van parked along side the road.

Mulder lifted his head to try to get a glimpse of Scully, but
all he could see was a collection of black habits gathered
around a form on the ground which he could only assume was
his beloved.

Moments later, the Reverend Mother returned with some crushed
ice and spooned some into Mulder's mouth.  "Thank you," he
said, as he let the ice melt and trickle down his throat.

Mulder studied the nun before him, noting her odd rosary
beads hanging at her waist. The chain was a seemingly random
mixture of well over 100 large and small beads. He wondered
if these nuns belonged to an order that he had never heard
of before.  He made mental note to ask Scully, who was
raised Catholic, if she could identify this group.

"You can call me 'Rev Ma.'  Everyone else does," smiled the
nun as she took a piece of the ice and started crunching it.
"Want some more?" she offered.

Mulder nodded, and she spooned some more ice into his mouth.
"I'm Rich Stewart," he managed to say with his mouth full.
He pointed in Scully's direction.  "That's my wife, Liza."

"Stewart, huh?" chuckled the nun.

"What's so funny?" asked Mulder.

"We're the Order of the Blessed Saint Stewart the Enigmatic.
I guess our patron saint was looking out for you,"  she smiled.

Mulder returned her smile and then tried to get another glimpse
of Scully.

"Don't worry about Liza,"  Rev Ma assured.  "She's in good
hands.  We nuns are all elders of a worldwide order, devoted
to worship and service in the name of St. Stewart, who
dedicated his life to the medical sciences.  Our motto is
'What Would Stewart Do?'"

"WWSD, like your bracelet,"  Mulder gestured towards her wrist.

"Uh, yeah." She continued, "We were on our way to visit the
Sisters of Phoenix.  But I guess that the good Lord didn't
bless our Sister Paula with navigation skills, and so we
ended up here in the middle of nowhere.  If you don't mind,
we can take you two with us to Phoenix, where you and your
wife can recuperate at our Abbey annex there."

"Sure," he said.  *Fine.  Whatever.* he thought.

"Sisters!" called out the nun, "We're going to be taking Rich
Stewart and his wife, Liza, to Phoenix with us.  Is Liza ready
to be moved?"

"Yes!" chorused the five other nuns.  Together they all helped
Scully stand up, gently brushing the dirt off of her clothes.
Then they escorted her over to where Mulder was lying, and
watched as he struggled like a newborn colt to right himself.

"Careful-" one of them offered.  Mulder thought that it was
awfully strange that all of them were so concerned about
Scully, but none of them seemed to have the slightest bit of
interest in his well-being.

*Maybe the nuns feel awkward because I'm a guy* he rationalized.

When he had finally balanced himself, they all headed over to
the mini-van.

Rev Ma opened the front passenger door and patted the seat.
"You can sit up here, next to me," she said, and then went
around to the driver's side.

Mulder stepped up into the van, but immediately got his feet
tangled up in a long silvery metallic object, lying on the
floor under the dashboard.  He landed awkwardly, but was
thankful that it was on the seat, and not on the ground below.

If that had happened, he surmised, they probably wouldn't even
have noticed it -- and would have driven off, leaving him in
their dust.

"Oh sorry," apologized one of the nuns as she grabbed a baton
out from between his feet.  "Sister La-Rhonda, you'll have to
put this in the back."

A nun, whom Mulder was guessing was Sister La-Rhonda, took
the baton and twirled it outside a bit before she haphazardly
tossed it inside the van.  All the nuns ducked, shielding
Scully, but the baton bonked Sister Paula on the head before
ricocheting behind the back seat.

"Oopsie!" winced Sister La-Rhonda.

She turned and observed Mulder studying her with a very
confused look.

"It's a present for our youngest member of the Order,
Sarah Gillian," she explained.

Mulder thought that was odd.  "I didn't know children could
become nuns."

"Actually," corrected Sister La-Rhonda, "she's a baby.  The
baton is for when she gets older. It's a sacred icon."

Now Mulder was staring at her, even more confused.

"Um," she continued, "if you haven't noticed by now, we're
not your average normal Order of nuns.  It's hard to explain
this to strangers, so you'll just have to trust us on this."

Mulder nodded in confusion, but settled back into the
passenger seat.  He could ask them more about their sect
later.  Right then, he desperately wanted to know how
Scully was doing.  However, when he turned around to get
a better look, all he could see were black habits.


XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX


"We thought you two were dead!  Wow!  But we've only got
two minutes to talk on this line.  So what can we do
for you?" asked Langley, flapping his hands like a madman
to the other gunmen to pick up their extensions.

Not wanting to risk the Abbey's safety by placing it on
the receiving end of a potentially traceable package,
Mulder instructed, "I need you to send money via
General Delivery to Phoenix.  And we need new ID's, too."

"Who do you want to be now?" asked Frohike.

Mulder didn't care.  "Just don't make us Annie and Jack
Traven."

Byers mumbled a confused "Okay" under his breath.  "Well,
consider it done.  Oh, and Mulder, you should know, we've
been investing your money since you've been gone.  You've
got quite a little fortune now!"

"Are you still moving toward the decided destination, or
have your plans changed?" asked Langley.

"The plan's still a go.  She still can't see, if that's
what you'd like to know.  And no, we haven't had any time to
do more research on the droperidol."

"What have you been doing all this time?" asked Frohike,
puzzled.

*Living out your wildest fantasy, little man,* Mulder mused,
but he knew that if Frohike learned the truth, Mulder would
never be able to answer the endless questions that Frohike
would launch upon him in the few precious seconds that
remained.

"Let's just say that we experienced missing time."

"Two years?" chorused the three Gunmen.

"Yeah, something like that."

"Are you two okay?" asked Byers.

"For now," he answered. "Scully's had a chance to take a dip
in her own private pool ever since we go here.  She's living
the high life."

"Pool?" choked Byers.

"I can't explain, fellas, so you'll just have to trust me on
this."

"What have you been doing?" asked Frohike.

"Well, I've been doing odd jobs.  Would you believe a little KP
duty?" Mulder kept his eyes on the clock, noting that his two
minutes were nearly up.

He finished the conversation by giving the Gunmen all the
information they would need to mail the package.  And after
promising to keep in touch more frequently, they said their
good byes.


XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX


"Sister Autumn, what are you wearing?" asked Scully.
Suddenly, there were coughing and choking noises next to
her in the pool. "Are you okay?"

After a few sputters and false starts, Sister Autumn was able
to reply.  "I'm wearing my orange and blue swimsuit."

Scully knew that this was a really modern order, but she
had great difficulty imagining a nun -- any nun -- in a
swimsuit.

"Oh," she said as she rested her head on her personal
flotation device.  "May I confess something to you?"

She and the nuns were taking their daily swim.  But although
Scully had been an excellent swimmer when she could see, she
preferred the constant security that the PFD offered her.

"What is it, my child?" asked the nun.

"Our names aren't really Rich and Liza." confessed Scully.
"Rich is really Fox Mulder, and I am really Dana Scully.
We're former federal agents.  We were partners in the FBI."

"We knew that," said the nun, demurely.

Scully was so stunned that she almost lost her grip on the
PFD.  "How?" she exclaimed.

"We just knew," replied the Sister.

Their cover was blown, Scully thought, and lying to nuns
surely would have serious consequences.  "Are you going to
ask us to leave?"

"Have you and your partner recovered from your injuries?"

"We're still a little sore, but we should be able to leave
if, that is, we have over-stayed our welcome." she said,
hoping and praying that this was not the case.

"My child," sighed the nun, "if it were my will, you
would never leave.  But there are other forces at work here,
and I'm afraid that it will soon be time for you to go."

She saw the disappointed look on Scully's face.  "I will,
however, commit the Order to assisting you with whatever
you need."

Scully smiled at the news.  "We have to go to the Phoenix Post
Office.  A package should have arrived there, General Delivery,
for us today.  We have to pick it up, but the Post Office ask
for ID first.  And we don't have any --"

"Do you want me to send some nuns on a mission to retrieve
it for you?" interrupted the Elder nun.

"What do you mean?"

"Our kitchen crew is specially trained for reconnaissance
operations such as this," Sister Autumn whispered with a
proud, conspirational grin.

"What are they going to do, hold the post office employees
at bay with their potato peelers?" Scully laughed.  "Mulder
has told me all about them."

Sister Autumn grew serious.  "They're nuns to you.  Skilled
operatives to me.  I will go and select two of them for this
mission."

Scully heard the water swishing around her and bobbed in the
eddies left behind by the nun's hasty exit.  She hoped that
she had not offended her in any way.


XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX


Later on that day, Mulder and Scully decided to go for a
walk around the convent.  They passed the outside of the
chapel and could hear the nuns singing.

"Can you make out the words?" asked Scully as she cocked
her head to try to hear better.

"The tunes are familiar, but they can't possibly be singing
the original lyrics,"  Mulder replied.  "While we've been
here, I've heard tunes from Billy Joel, the Beatles, Simon
and Garfunkel, Queen, and even from Les Miserables.  But
they must have changed the words."

"Yeah, I once thought I heard some of them singing songs from
The Sound of Music, but I _know_ they weren't singings any
lyrics that I learned," said Scully.  "I guess this is their
attempt at modernizing the dusty old hymn book."

Mulder laughed and shook his head.  "I wonder what the Pope
thinks about this Order."

"Well, I don't know what he would say, but I like them."

"You would!  The nuns practically fall all over you!"

Scully had to admit, "They _are_ really nice to me.  Are you
saying that you're feeling left out?"

Before Mulder had a chance to answer, he saw a nun running
towards them with a brown package.

"We got it!  We got it!" she cried out, waving it wildly in
the air.

Scully guessed what the 'it' was, and told Mulder, "They must
have been successful at the Post Office."

Mulder affirmed Scully's guess.  "Sister Paula, how did you
ever manage to get a hold of it?"

Scully heard the nun run up to them and skid to a full stop.
"It was nothing," she said as she caught her breath.  "We just
launched Operation 'Stop, Drop and Roll' and Voila! we were
able to recover your package from the evil clutches of the
Phoenix Post Office."

Ceremoniously, she took Scully's hands and presented her with
the prize.

"I'm speechless," said Scully, "earlier today, I told Mulder
that you all knew who we really were.  We were concerned that
this might jeopardize the Abbey's safety.  But I never really
expected anyone here to willingly risk so much -- for us!"

The nun hugged Scully and said "Anything for you, anything at
all."  She released the hug and faced Mulder and said, "I guess
that goes for you, too."


XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX


Scully had spent so much time seated in the passenger side of
a Ford Taurus in her 'former life' that she didn't need her
eyesight to confirm that Mulder had rented one for their trip
to Los Angeles.

The day of their departure had arrived, and the nuns had
accompanied them to the nearest car rental lot.  While Mulder
was still inside filling out the paperwork, the nuns had
escorted Scully to the car.  She rolled down the window and
started saying her good byes to the nuns gathered at her door.

"Here, you might want this."

Scully identified the voice as being Sister Autumn's, and
felt something being placed in her lap. "God knows, it's never
helped Sister Paula, but you two might find this roadmap useful."

She took the map and felt for the latch to the glove
compartment and opened it.  "From what I hear, I could
probably read it better than Sister Paula," she joked, as
she placed the map inside and closed the glove compartment.

"Hey!" cried the offended nun, and they all broke into nervous
laughter.  Good-byes were never easy for Scully, and it sounded
like she was in similar company.

"Here," said Sister La-Rhonda as she placed a tiny plastic
container in Scully's hands. "these are for good luck on
Wednesday when you go to your appointment with D. Bert."

Scully shook the container and heard a familiar 'chk-chk'.
"Tic-Tacs?" she wondered aloud.

"Yeah," gushed Sister La-Rhonda. "And we don't give them out
to just anybody!"

Scully thanked them and then gave each nun a tight
embrace to say farewell.

Just then, Mulder completed all the paperwork and walked out
to the car as the small group had finished their good-byes.
The nuns watched him get in the driver's side and they all
stepped back, as if they were afraid that he might hit them
when he pulled away.

"Bye--" came a small voice from somewhere inside the tight
huddle, but Mulder couldn't figure out who said it.  So he
smiled and waved to the group and then started up the Taurus.

Scully felt the car begin to move and after a couple of
moments, rolled up her window.  "I'm going to miss them,"
she sighed.

Mulder rolled his eyes. "Me, too," he lied.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

End Part 2

CUL-DE-SAC (3/4)
Wendy Williams


Mulder pulled the car into the parking space marked 'Reserved
for Dr. Bert's patients.  All other cars will be towed.'
"We're here," he announced to Scully.

She let out a deep breath and unhooked her seatbelt.  She
waited in her seat while Mulder got out of the car and went
around to the passenger side.  He opened the door and she
felt an arm guiding her out onto the pavement.

Together, they made their way into the doctor's office.  After
Mulder saw to it that she was seated comfortably, he went to
the receptionist's window to announce their presence.

"Rose Shippenberg is here.  We've got an 11:30 appointment,
but we came early to fill out the new patient forms."

The receptionist made a checkmark on her patient list and
then handed Mulder a clipboard with the proper forms.

"Return this to me as soon as you're finished."

Mulder took the clipboard and pen back to Scully's seat.
"Here, fill this out," he said as he laid them in her lap,
hoping that some levity would crack her stoic facade.

"Funny,"  she said flatly, and handed them back in his
general direction.

"Alright, I'm sorry.  That was about as funny as our new
ID's.  Someday, I'm going to get Frohike back for 'Jack and
Rose Shippenberg..." he vowed as he took the clipboard and
began filling out the forms for Scully.

Scully listened to the pen scratching against the surface
of the clipboard. This appointment was something that they
had both risked life and limb for, and she was flooded with
mixed emotions.

*Will I ever be able to see again?  What if we're too late?
After all* she argued with herself, *we did lose two years...*

Mid-way through the forms Mulder stopped; he could fee her
apprehension.  He knew her through and through, or so he
liked to tell himself.

"You know that whatever happens today, I will always love
you,"  he assured her.

"I know," she said as tears began to form.

"Here," he said, reaching into his pocket, "have a Tic-Tac."
He gave her one from the container that the nuns had given
her.

Then he hugged her to himself and, not caring about his
penmanship, filled out the rest of the forms while Scully
took comfort in his embrace.

About fifteen minutes after he had handed the forms back
in to the receptionist, 'Rose Shippenberg's' name was
called.

Mulder escorted 'Rose' out of the waiting room and was
directed to go to Exam Room 3.  They entered, and Mulder
helped her as she climbed onto the examining table.

*Is it just my imagination, or did they start making these
higher?* he asked himself as he checked to make sure that
Scully was firmly ensconced, before finding a seat of his
own.

Time stood still while the two waited for Dr. Bert.  Mulder
looked at his watch and was sure that it was wrong.  It
told him that only 4 minutes had passed, but Mulder was
certain that it was more like 4 hours.

Finally, a man wearing a white coat knocked and entered
the examining room.

"Hi, I'm Dr. Bert," he said as he went over to the sink
and washed his hands.  He grabbed a couple of paper towels
and dried them off.

"You must be Rose Shippenberg," he said, taking Scully's
hand and shaking it.  Turning to Mulder, he repeated the
handshake.  "And you must be Jack."

"Do you two get teased a lot about your names?" he chuckled
as he opened the chart and perused the form that Mulder had
just filled out.

"No, you're the first!" joked Mulder right back, hoping that
he was convincing enough.

"Well now Mrs. Shippenberg, I understand that you were
blinded in an explosion in 1995."

"Yes," she confirmed.

"I'm going to examine your eyes using my ophthalmoscope,
and I want you to tell me if you can see anything."

Scully sensed the doctor's presence directly in front of
her, but try as she might, she could not detect any light.

"I want you to look up... and now down... to the left...
and to the right,"  Dr. Bert said with professional
distance.  Scully felt him move away from her and
heard him putting his instrument down.

"Can you help us?" asked Mulder.

Dr. Bert paused for a moment and said, "I don't know
how to tell you this, so I'll just say that I'm sorry,
Mrs. Shippenberg."

Scully righted her shoulders, but Mulder knew that she was
on the verge of collapse. He went over to her and put his
arm around her.

"I don't want to add insult to injury, but I might have been
able to do a corneal transplant if you had come to me right
away.  But now, it's been more than 4 years and your eye
muscles have deteriorated to the extent that a transplant
would be of no benefit to you."

"I'm sorry,"  the doctor repeated, and then he added, "If you
would like to be alone for awhile, I'll just tell the nurses
that you're here.  There will be no charge for today's visit."

"Thank you," came the quiet response from Scully, and Mulder
nodded in agreement.

Dr. Bert wrote some notes in her chart and closed it with
grim finality.  Then he quietly left the two alone to come
to terms with his devastating news.

Scully sobbed the cry of the hopeless into Mulder's shoulder.
Now that there was no chance of her ever seeing again, she
released a myriad of feelings that had been bottled up ever
since the explosion.  Before this, she had been a trooper
about her blindness because she could cling to the sliver of
hope that her condition was a temporary inconvenience.  Sure,
there were days where she had been discouraged, but until now,
she had never experienced this kind of hopelessness.

Mulder hugged her and whispered words of comfort and
reassurance that he loved her no matter what, and would
always be at her side.  It broke his heart to see her
crushed by Dr. Bert's news.  But secretly, he had suspected
this all along.

He chastised himself while he tried to soothe his partner's
aching heart.  He could forgive himself for losing precious
time while running from the Consortium but, in his mind,
there was no excuse for losing two whole years in studio
loft.  There must have been some way to prevent that, he
thought.

Scully noticed her partner's soothing mantra growing
quieter, and figured that he was finding a way to punish
himself mentally. Knowing that he would find a way to blame
himself for this, she determined to summon all her emotional
strength from her reserves so that she could be strong for
him.  For herself.  For them.

"Now that we know that there's no plausible chance that I
will ever be able to see again, where do we go from here?"
she wondered aloud.

"Well, we could just settle down right here in LA,"
suggested Mulder.  "I could open up a private practice
in the suburbs, while you could explore your career
options -- if that's what you'd like."

"Our old jobs back, that's what I'd like," Scully reminisced
fondly.  "Do you think we're finally finished running?"

"Yeah, but while I think it will be okay for us to stay here
for awhile, I wouldn't be surprised if we ended up moving
again in the future."

And, as if Mulder had read her mind, he added, "I still
wouldn't take any chances contacting your mother and
brothers."

Scully slid herself off the examining table.  "I wish there
would be a way we could let mom know that I am safe."

"You know that I wouldn't hesitate to contact her in a
second, if I thought it would be safe." Mulder eased
his arm in between hers.

"I know," conceded Scully.  She curled her arm around his and
the two walked out of Dr. Bert's office in silent tandem.


XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX


"Thank you for calling Unfinished Business, how may I help
you?"  asked Nikky as she checked her new boots in one of
the full-length display mirrors.  She listened to the customer
on the other end of the line while she smudged out some scuff
marks.

It was Monday afternoon, and there weren't any customers
in her unfinished furniture store, so she wasn't concerned
about anyone seeing her.

"Why yes, Mrs. Scully, we ship our furniture all over the
country.  We'd have no problems shipping it from LA to the
DC area.  If you want that cedar chest you saw featured on
our website, I'd be happy to take your order."

Nikky walked the cordless phone over to the counter and
grabbed a pen and order form.  She scribbled down the
pertinent information and said, "We'll ship it within
24 hours.  If you have any problems or questions, you can
just call back and ask for me.  Okay?  Okay.  My name is
Nikky Perole...  And thank you, too... Good bye."

Nikky hung up the phone and noticed the time.  She checked
her watch to make sure that the clock on the wall was
correct, and it confirmed that she was running late for
her 12:30 appointment.  Very late.

"Shi-!" she exclaimed. Grabbing her purse, she ran to
the front of the store.  She flipped over the too-perky
'Come in, we're open!' sign and then exited, locking the
glass doors behind her.

Walk-running over to her car, she plucked a parking ticket
off of her windshield.  She cursed the evil person who had
decided to make them hot pink, so that everyone within a
mile radius of her car could tell whenever she lost another
battle with the parking meter.

She tossed the ticket along with her purse onto the
passenger seat, and quickly forgot about it.  She had other
things to berate herself for.

First impressions were important to her, and Nikky knew that
she had missed her opportunity to make a good one already.
She turned the ignition key and threw her car into reverse
before it really had a chance to start.  Squealing her
tires, she backed out and then sped off to her destination.

Thirty minutes later she pulled up in front of a ranch house
at the end of a cul-de-sac.  What had once been a garage had
been converted into an office -- the office of her new
therapist, Dr. Jack Shippenberg.

She screeched to a halt haphazardly along the curb, not
caring that it looked as if her car had been parked by a
drunk, and ran inside.

The first thing that she noticed was that her new therapist
was handsome.  The second thing she noticed was that he was
sitting at a brand new desk that reeked of fresh varnish.
In fact, the whole office smelled new, and Nikky wondered
if she were his first client.

"I'm sorry that I'm late," apologized Nikky, finger-combing
her hair off her glasses. "I'll pay you for the full hour."
she offered, as she tried to regain her breath.

"You've only got 10 minutes left," replied Mulder.
Thumbing through his appointment book, he suggested, "We
can reschedule, if you'd like."

"No," she shook her head, "because being late is only a
small part of my problem."

"Oh, so what is it that you would like help for?"

"I'm here because I'm having problems finishing things.
I'm really good at starting projects, but I'm totally bad
when it comes to completing anything."

Mulder motioned for her to sit down in the chair across
from his desk.  He got out his notepad and pen.

"How long does it usually take for you to finish a project?
Days, months, --"

"Years," she said, as she crossed her legs and made herself
comfortable in the chair.

*There is procrastination, and then there is _procrastination_!*
Mulder thought.  "Can you name something you've finished
recently?"

"Well, I did just finish a high school graduation present
for a cousin of mine, but--."

"That's less than a year late," interrupted Mulder, hoping
to encourage her.

"But Tiffany's going to graduate from _college_ this
semester!"

"Maybe you could give it as sort of a combination high
school/college graduation present," suggested Mulder
helpfully.  "Tell me," he asked as he prepared to take
notes, "how would you describe yourself?"

Nikky thought for a bit and then began, "I like to think of
myself as one of those 'boats against the current' kind of
people.  Okay?" She watched as Mulder began dutifully taking
notes.  "Okay.  I like to do my own thing and I usually don't
worry about what other people think of me."

She paused for a moment, curious to know what he was writing
about her.  "I'm happier throwing caution to the wind," she
resumed, "or rather, I _was_ happier until everyone around
me seemed to be on my tail for not finishing things."

"How would you describe your relationships with others?"
asked Mulder.

"Well, generally they're okay.  I have lots of friends.  The
only exception is that I was recently involved in what my
friends have described as a 'notorious affair.'"

"What happened?"

Staring off into the distance, she answered, "I don't really
want to talk about... Matt.  It's a tragedy."

"It might help me to get a better idea of what's going on in
your life that puts up these psychological barriers to
finishing things."

Nikky shook her head.  "It involved an embarrassing fall from
grace and I'm not ready to talk about it just yet.  Okay?
Okay."

"Okay," Mulder found himself echoing.  "We can deal with it
when you're ready to talk about it.  How well do you sleep?"

"During the day, I run until I drop.  I go and I go and I go
until I pass out.  But at night?  Night is another thing.  I
should have no trouble sleeping, but I do."  She shifted
uncomfortably in her seat. "But what does this have to do
with not finishing things?"

"It helps me develop a profile.  So far, I think that you're
a Type A personality who is scared to death to complete
what you've started because you think that people might not
like the finished product.  You already know that they like
what you've started, right?"

"I know!" she agreed. "I get positive feedback all the time.
For instance, I like creative writing.  I've written a lot of
what's called fanfic, and have even won some awards for it."

"Well, that's a start."

"But some of the awards are for unfinished stories.  And I
can't help thinking that I wouldn't have won as many of them
if my fanfic had been finished,"  she said.  "There's
something that's just so _final_ about being finished, you
know?" she winced.

His client fiddled absent-mindedly with a brunette lock and
continued, "I don't think that the reason I leave things
unfinished is because I'm scared of people not liking the
final product." she corrected.  "I think it's more an
attention-seeking kind of thing."

Mulder was more than slightly stunned at this admission.

"You get more attention because everyone is pressuring you
to do something," he rephrased. "And the longer you take
to do what they want, the more powerful you feel. You've
got them under your control."

She thought about what he had said. "Yep, that totally sums
it up."

Mulder just stared at Nikky.  It was almost as if underneath
this lovely young woman's skin there was an evil streak,
such as he had never witnessed before.

*She's so nonchalant about it!* he thought.  There were people
out there waiting for her to finish some fanfic.  And she
seemed to thrive on just letting them hang!  Either she was
lightning in a bottle, he thought, or she was downright evil.

Could he be staring at Satan in disguise?

Mulder cleared his throat and checked his watch.  "Um, I'm
sorry, but we're out of time."

Flipping over his notepad, he tossed his pen into his middle
desk drawer. Then he launched himself out of his chair and
hastily ushered her out of his office.

"But what about my problem?" asked Nikky, as he was steering
her to the door.

"Today's session was a free consultation.  If you want to
schedule another appointment, you can call me -- at your
convenience."  Mulder prayed that she would add therapy to
her long list of things she never followed through on.

Before Nikky knew what was happening to her, she was on the
sidewalk and the office door shut behind her.

And as she walked to her car, she thought she heard it
being locked.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Have you ever heard of Gossamer, Mulder?" asked Byers.

Mulder absent-mindedly drummed his fingers on the phone
while searching his eidetic memory.  But his mental search
engine yielded no results for anything other than a
definition of the word.  "No.  Is it an alternative rock
group?"

Byers laughed, "It's an archive on the Internet."  Turning
serious, he continued, "We think we've found something.
There's an author who goes by nvrdone@aol.com who has
written some pretty amazing stuff about the two of you."

"What do you mean?" Mulder asked.

Byers perused the text on his monitor.  "It's all here...
from Scully losing her sight, to your car accident,
to what happened in New Orleans and then in Santa Fe."

Mulder was totally baffled.  "How could anyone have
known about all that?  And how long has this been on
the Net?"

"I don't know how this 'nvrdone' person knows you, but she's
posted your story on-line from the explosion on."

"Do you think that we've been bugged?" wondered Mulder.

"There is no technology I'm aware of that would produce
the kind of information that she knows about you and Scully."

Byers thought for a moment and then continued, "It's almost
like she was right there with you all the time, directing
the action.  But it mysteriously stops when you and Scully
went to Albuquerque."

"We went there right after when we lost experienced missing
time!" exclaimed Mulder.

"You lost time before Albuquerque?"  Byers scrolled down
towards the end of the post.  "There's no mention of
missing time between Santa Fe and Albuquerque."

"Well then, are you sure that nvrdone is really writing
about us?"

"I'm as certain about this as I am sure that there are
government conspiracies," assured Byers.

"How can you be so sure?"

"Um, you'll have to read her posts for yourself."  Byers
then whispered, "Let's just say that Langley and I are taking
great pains to make sure that Frohike doesn't see any of this."

"What do you mean?" asked Mulder.

Byers didn't think he could adequately explain himself.
"I'll just give you the URL.  You'll understand what I'm
talking about when you read it."

Mulder looked around, "Just wait a moment.  I need to find a
pen."


XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX


For the next three days, Mulder spent all his free time
totally absorbed by what he was reading on his computer
monitor.  *Byers was right,* he thought, *it's all here.*

Everything.

In glorious detail.

But there was one thing that Byers couldn't possibly have
known.  Mulder had a pretty good idea who nvrdone was.

He was so absorbed with his reading material that he did
not even hear Scully approach his desk.  "What is it that's
captured your attention for the last three days?" she asked
him.  "You've said hardly anything to me, and all you do
is sit here at the computer when you don't have clients.
Are you okay?"

Mulder searched for the right way to break the news to her.
"You are not going to believe this... um," he struggled,
"Byers pulled something off the Internet that's incredible.
I wanted to read the whole thing before I said anything to
you about it.  I don't know how to explain it but--"

"What is it?" interrupted Scully.

Mulder pushed his chair away from his desk and drew her
into his lap.  "It's a piece of fanfic, or in other words, a
story.  Only this story is all about us, and what happened
after the explosion that blinded you."

Scully tensed. "Who would have been able to write about that?"

Mulder wrapped his arms around her waist.  "Here's the kicker.
It's written by someone who just happens to be one of my
clients."

"You told her about us?" Scully asked.

"No," Mulder shook his head.  "Her stuff was posted all the
way back at the end of 1995.  There was no way she could have
known about us back then."

Scully molded herself to him and he watched her process
this information.  "How could she have written about us?" she
asked him.

"I don't know, but it's all here."  said Mulder as he took
the mouse and used it to scroll down the screen.

"Could she be a part of the Consortium?"

"I don't believe so" said Mulder, absorbed in thought. "But
I have a theory."

He took a deep breath and began, "I've been thinking about
this for two days now.  What if she inadvertently caused
things to happen to us?"

Scully laughed, "You mean like we're some kind of voodoo
dolls?  She wrote a story, and we were doomed to act it
out?  What is this, an X-File?"

Mulder smiled.  Some things never change, he thought. "Do
you have a better theory?" he challenged.

"No, not at the moment," Scully shook her head with the
whisper of a smile on her lips.  "You just told me about
this, remember? And besides, even if you're right, what are
we going to be able to do about this?"

"She's hasn't finished writing it.  In fact, that's why she
scheduled an appointment to see me.  She has a psychological
barrier to following things through to the end."

"Where did she stop?"

"I haven't gotten to that part yet."  Mulder scrolled to the
end of the post, "She has us on the bus at Albuquerque."

"That's right after we lost the two years!"

"Yeah." Mulder read further.  "But this says you took a nap
on the bus, and you didn't.  Plus, she skipped over our two
missing years like they never happened."

"So if you encourage her to finish writing it," Scully joked,
"she could turn things around for us."

There was silence from Mulder, and Scully knew what that
meant.  She turned around in his lap to face him.  "You
are not serious!" she exclaimed.

"What other choice do we have?" Mulder asked defensively.
"How else can you explain it?"

"Maybe our story was printed in the newspaper somewhere.
You know, we haven't really been keeping up with the news
lately.  She could have read an article about us and turned
it into a creative writing exercise."

"Scully, you're just going to have to trust me on this.
Nikky Perry is the key to getting your sight, our old jobs,
and our lives back."

Resigning herself to this latest leap of logic, Scully
turned around and settled herself back onto his chest.
Mulder reached over and flipped though the Day Planner
on his desk.  "I hate to admit it, but I was hoping that
she wouldn't schedule another appointment.  She's going
to be a tough cookie to crack.  But fortunately for us,
she did call back, and I'll be seeing her again on
Thursday."

"But you can't just sit her down and demand fanfic out
of her," Scully pointed out.

"You're right,"  Mulder agreed.  "She can't know who we
are.  I'll just have to find a way to get her writing again,
and make her think it's therapeutic."


XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX


"Sorry that I'm late...,"  she mumbled under her breath as she
rushed into his office.

"At least you're here, Nikky," replied Mulder. "I was getting
kind of worried that you wouldn't show up."

The young woman plunked down a folder on Mulder's desk and
sat in the chair.  "I just wanted you to know that I've
been working on some fanfic since our last session."

Mulder smiled.  *There is hope for this young woman after
all!* he thought.

"So can you tell what my diagnosis is?"

Mulder stared at her for a second, wondering whether or not
it was a good idea to tell her this right now.  He certainly
didn't want to scare her off, if she was indeed what he
thought she was.  But he was also afraid that if he didn't
tell her, she would think that her problems weren't serious
enough to warrant further therapy.

Giving into his reservations he said, "URAS."

"Hey!" she yelled.  Jumping out of her seat, she struck a
challenging stance.  "I've got my pointy boots on!" Nikky
threatened, "I'll kick _your_ a--."

"NO!" exclaimed Mulder.  "The letters!  U-R-A-S." he
corrected.

When she finally backed off and sat down, he resumed. "It
stands for Unrecognized or Repressed Anagnorisis Syndrome.
Basically, it means that you haven't figured out the true
nature of your importance to everyone in your world.  When
you do that, you'll begin to understand how your actions
can have a profound effect on others."

As fast as her temper had exploded, it dissipated.  "It's
kind of like seeing the big picture," she said.

"Yes,"  Mulder agreed.  "And when you finally see the big
picture, you will begin to understand your responsibilities
to those around you, and you will be more motivated to
finish things in a timely manner."

"So, Dr. Shippenberg, how do I go about doing this?"

He pointed at the folder in front of him. "You've been
working on your fanfic, why don't you continue with that
for now?"

"Why fanfic?  Shouldn't we be working on more important
things, like how my problem affects my work?"

Mulder shook his head.  "We have to start somewhere Nikky.
We'll build up to the more important things eventually," he
assured her.  "But I'd like to start with something that
you enjoy."

Mulder studied her, looking for signs that she had accepted
his rationalization.

Nikky picked up her folder and flipped through the pages.
"Alright," she said.  "But I'm suffering from writer's block,
currently, so I'll probably have to start a different project.
Do you think poetry would be okay?"

Mulder stared at his client and saw his plan about to fall
apart.  Quickly, he tried to think of a rescue attempt so
that he and Scully wouldn't become the innocent victims of
haiku, by Nikky Perole.

"My wife was blinded in a accident a couple of years ago.
I'd like to challenge you to write a realistic story about
her getting her sight back."

"But I already wrote something like that!" whined Nikky. "It
was about a female FBI agent who was blinded in an explosion
-- and it already tops 850K!"

"Did you ever finish it?" pushed her therapist.

Nikky rolled her eyes. "Not yet."

Mulder went in for the kill.  "Well here's a chance to do
just that."

Nikky sighed heavily and acquiesced.  "I'll think about
it, okay?  Okay."


XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX


The door alert chimed and she looked up to see a man
dressed in a black suit entering the store.  "I'm sorry,
I'll be with you in a minute, sir," called out Nikky. "I
just need to finish with this customer on the phone."

"I'll wait," said the customer, evaluating her showroom.

Nikky returned her attention to the pleasant, yet
dissatisfied customer on the phone. "I'll pack your order
this afternoon and ship it out first thing tomorrow morning.
And once again, I apologize for not sending it out on time,
Mrs. Scully."

The man's face shot a look of recognition, but Nikky knew
that he couldn't possibly know the customer to whom she was
speaking.  This Mrs. Scully lived on the other side of the
country.

The man focused his interest in an unstained dining room
table.

"Thank you for your patience and understanding. Good bye."
Nikky hung up the phone and directed her attention towards
her customer.

"I'm sorry, I'm the only one here today.  Can I help you
with anything?" asked Nikky, as she made her way over to
the man.

"Yes. I believe you can," he said as he pulled out a
cigarette and lit it.

Pointing to the No Smoking sign on the counter, she said,
"Sir, you can't smoke in here."

"Yes. I believe I can," replied the mysterious man.

Nikky was surprised to hear the sound of someone else
walking behind her.

*How did anyone else get in here?* she wondered.

But before she could turn around and see who it was, she
felt a handkerchief pressed against her mouth and nose.
She struggled with her assailant, managing to get out a
few garbled syllables. And then she knew only darkness.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

End part 3

CUL-DE-SAC (4/4)
Wendy Williams


"No Mulder," she sighed, "I still can't see."

She was getting tired of him hounding her.  Over the past
two weeks, he had repeatedly asked her if there was any
change in her sight.

"I don't understand," agonized Mulder.  "She should have
written something by now, and you should be able to see..."
he said, pounding his fist on the computer desk.

Startled at his outburst, Scully tried to reason with him.
"Mulder, I would love for your fanfic-voodoo doll theory to
be right, but I'm afraid that in this case there's something
more plausible."

"What?" he said angrily.

"That Nikky is a gifted writer who just happened to stumble
across our story -- which could have made it somehow to the
media -- and she just wrote about it."

Mulder calmed himself down and then continued.  "But Scully,
I read what she wrote -- and there's no way anyone else
could have known the stuff she wrote about.  She wrote
about _everything_."

Instantly, he wished that he could have edited what he had
just said.

Scully furrowed her eyebrows, and pinned Mulder with a
glare that seemed to defy her blindness. "What do you mean
_everything_?"

Mulder felt the temperature of the room rise, and his
clothes became strangely confining.  "Well, let's just
say that she wrote about certain events that were
extraneous to the plot."

He needed to distract her.

Scully heard him opening the drawer to the computer desk
and pulling something out of it.

"I bought this for you," said Mulder, as he unwrapped the
packaging.  "It's software that's designed to read text.  I
didn't give it to you right away because I thought Nikky
would have come through by now."

Scully heard Mulder leaving the computer room and entering
the kitchen.  Shortly, he returned with a kitchen stool and
set it next to his chair at the desk.  Then he sat Scully
down and booted the CD.

Scully waited anxiously as she listened to him set up the
program.  On one hand, she was extremely excited.  This would
mark the first time in years that she would be able to "read."
By herself.

Ever since she had been blinded, Mulder had always been
willing to read things to her, but she had desperately
missed being able to do it on her own.

On the other hand, if what she thought Mulder was trying
to tell her was correct, she wasn't sure that this was she
wanted to be reading...

Mulder folded the instruction sheet and asked, "Who do you
want to read to you?  You have a choice between Reginald,
Orville, Sally, or Peggy.  You want to hear the samples?"

Scully nodded and listened as he played a selection read by
each of them.

"Hello_" said a male voice, who sounded like a constipated
castrato.  "_My_name_is_Reginald."

"Hello_" said a bass. "_My_name_is_Orville."

"Hi,_my_name_is_Sally." said a little girl, who lisped.

"Hi,_my_name_is_Peggy." said an older female voice, which
sounded rather air-headed.

Mulder watched her expression transform from eager
anticipation to general disappointment as they listened
to the monotone computer generated voices.

While she was very thankful for the technology that made
Reginald, Orville, Sally, and Peggy possible, Scully longed
for a text reader that was sounded more human.  "Can I
choose Fox?"

Mulder hugged her and said, "Not for this.  It would take
me days to read all of it for you, and besides I have some
clients coming in about 15 minutes."

"Okay then," she acquiesced, "I guess I will be able to
tolerate Orville."

Mulder clicked on Orville's picture and then opened up the
fanfic file. "Alright, he's ready."  He placed her hand on
the mouse.  "If you get bored and want to skip anything,
I've got the track wheel set so that you can scroll through
the text."

He rose out of his chair and moved Scully over to sit in
it.  "I'm going out to the office to get the Hendersons'
paperwork ready.  They're new, so they'll be coming early
to fill out the new client forms."

He clicked on "Read Text".

"It_was_much_warmer_inside_the_mine,_and__S_c_u_l_l_y__was_
thankful_..."

"Hey!" Scully exclaimed,  "How'd Nikky know about that?"

"Just keep listening." Mulder kissed her on the forehead.
"I'll be right outside in the office."

"..._the_air_in_the_mine_was_stale,_and_it_made_her_
feel_vaguely_ claustrophobic._ She_kept_a_tight_hold_of__
C_o_o_p_..."


XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX


Judy and Herbert Henderson had been married for 37 years,
which was more of a testament to bullheaded stubbornness
rather than to wedded bliss.  Divorce was an admission of
defeat, and neither of them wanted to give in.  So they
stayed together year after year, bickering and squabbling
though thick and thin.  Finally, their adult children got
together and confronted them, demanding that they go seek
help.  And Dr. Jack Shippenberg was the psychologist they
chose.

"Mrs. Henderson, can you describe your husband for me?"
asked Mulder as he readied himself to referee.

"Herbert is cranky old man," began his wife, "who never
listens to anything I say."

"Well she never listens to me, either!" interrupted Herbert.

"One at a time, Mr. Henderson!"  Mulder commanded.  "I would
like you to be quiet while you're wife is talking.  Then,
when it's your turn, you will be allowed to speak
uninterrupted."

*Where's a liver-eating mutant when you need one?* Mulder
thought.

Two feet away from Mulder, yet separated by wood, insulation,
and drywall, Scully sat fully mesmerized by Orville.

"Horrified,_she_heard_the_sound_of_approaching_footsteps,_and_
it_galvanized_her_into_action.__She_flailed_her_hands_wildly,_
searching_for_something,_anything_that_she_could_use_to_help_
her_..."

*Mulder was right,* she thought, *she knows everything!*

While Scully was shocked and amazed at what she was hearing,
a part of her shuddered to have to relive the whole mine
experience.  Knowing what was to come, Scully decided to fast
forward over it.  She groped for the mouse on the desk, and
when she had found it, scrolled with the track wheel and then
clicked.

"M_u_l_d_e_r__stepped_into_the_cavernous_entrance_to_the_
mine_..."

Scully scrolled with the track wheel some more.

"S_c_u_l_l_y__was_clinging_to_that_lower_edge,_both_hands_
gripping_the_aged_wood_with_white_hyphen_knuckled_intensity,_
her_legs_kicking_uselessly_at_the_black_void_beneath_her..."

Scully spun the track wheel several rotations desperately
trying to get out of that part of the story.

"Let_me_help_you_with_that,"__M_u_l_d_e_r_whispered,_..."

"Ah," Scully said aloud to herself. "This is much better!"

"_and_she_nodded,_finding_his_mouth_again_with_hers_as_his_
hands_moved_to_her_waist..."

"WHAT?!?" exclaimed Scully, so loudly that Mulder heard it
from his office. She grabbed the mouse and started clicking
it furiously to try to stop Orville from pronouncing words
that no computer generated voice should ever have to
pronounce.

But the only thing that she succeeded in doing was clicking
out of track wheel mode.  And then, to add insult to injury,
she randomly clicked on the text reader's sound control,
which jacked the volume all the way up to 10.

"SHE_CURLED_HER_LEGS_UP_AGAINST_HIM_AS_HE_
SLID_THE_PANTIES_ OWN,_ALLOWING_HIM_TO_PULL_
THEM_OFF_..." Orville droned on.

Frantically, Scully searched for the speakers to turn down
the volume.  On the other side of the drywall, Mulder buried
his head in his hands and sighed.  *What in the world is she
doing?!?* he wondered, shaking his head.

"... and when I call Herbert for supper while he's in front
of the TV, he never hears me.  I have to physically go over
to him and stand in the way of his boobtube in order for
him to realize that I'm talking to him..."  Mrs. Henderson
prattled on.  Mulder looked up at her, but she gave him no
indication that she heard any of the cyberporn reading
performed by Orville.

"'OH,__M_U_L_D_E_R_...' HE_MURMURED_SOMETHING_
IN_RESPONSE_THAT_SHE_COULDN'T_QUITE_HEAR_AND_
THEN_ONE_OF_HIS_HANDS_SLIPPED_BETWEEN_..."

Scully was apoplectic.  Desperately, she searched for volume
controls on the speakers, and then for the on/off button on
the CPU.  But it was an exercise in futility.  Then, try as
she might, she couldn't click Orville into silence.

Finally, she flung down the mouse and abandoned the computer
room for the living room.

"S_C_U_L_L_Y__WRIGGLED_IN_HIS_ARMS,_HER_SKIN_
DAMP_WITH_SWEAT_..."

Mulder struggled to maintain his professional air.

"...and you should see Herbert when--"

Finally, he interrupted Mrs. Henderson's litany.  "Do either
of you hear anything unusual?" he asked.

"No, but I wear hearing aids." said Mr. Henderson as he
pointed to his ears. "I used to work in a factory with a
lot of heavy machinery."

"SHE_WAS_PANTING_NOW,_HER_BREATHS_COMING_
IN_LITTLE_FRANTIC_GASPS_..."

Mulder pointed in the general direction of the sound
emanating from the wall.  "Mrs. Henderson, you hear that,
don't you?"

She looked confused. "Hear what?"

"'M_U_L_D_E_R_...' HIS_NAME_ON_HER_LIPS_WAS_A_
VAGUE_HELPLESS_PLEA_FOR_RELEASE_..."

Mulder knew that he had to end this session right then and
there.

"Mr. and Mrs. Henderson, before we go one any further, I am
going to recommend that both of you get your hearing checked.
You might not be having a communication problem so much as a
hearing problem."

Then, as quickly as he could, he ushered the two out of his
office and ran back inside the house.

"S_C_U_L_L_Y_'S__ARMS_ WERE_AROUND_HIS_NECK,..."

Mulder dashed into the computer room only to find it empty,
the mouse dangling from its cord off the side of the desk.
He picked it up and placed it on the mousepad.

"_HER_FINGERS_TWINED_IN_HIS HAIR..."

Click.

He left the computer room and went to search for her.  In
the living room, he found her curled up in a ball in the
far corner of the sofa.  He sat down beside her and reached
over, gently stroking her cheek.

"First of all, I guess I should apologize," he started,
"for buying a computer with none of the controls like you
were used to.  It's one of those new-fangled models where
all the controls are on the keyboard."

"How did she know?" came a small voice.

"I don't know, but she wrote almost a megabyte of information
about us," he replied smoothing a strand of hair from her
cheek.  "Fortunately for us, only a small fraction of it
was NC-17."

Scully was nonplussed.

"You didn't get to hear it," he continued, "but Nikky did
include an apology to anti-relationshippers -- whatever those
are -- for the intimate parts, and warnings so that readers
could skip over them."

"But she still wrote them." she countered.

"It sounded almost like she didn't want to write them but
was driven by some unknown force beyond her control."

"So what we have here..." Scully rephrased, "is a person
who is compelled by some unknown force to write things --
maybe even against her will -- which we are in turn
compelled to carry out?"

"Yes. Except that something strange happened--"

"That isn't strange?" coughed Scully.

"Even more strange,"  Mulder said.  "I think an unknown
force got impatient with Nikky's procrastination and has
plunged us into an alternate universe.  That would explain
why we lost two years, and why Nikky's ending doesn't
match with what really happened to us on the bus."

At this point, Scully didn't know what to think.  Alternate
universes weren't plausible in her book.  But she had been
so rattled by what she had just listened to that she couldn't
formulate a better explanation.

Mulder continued, "The answer lies within Nikky and her
fanfic.  I think she's our only hope of getting us back to
where we belong -- in the X-files office, with you being able
to see."

Even though she believed that she had about as much of a
chance regaining her sight from Nikky as she did from a
two-bit faith healer, she was at the point where she was
willing to give anything a try. "So, when do you see her
next?"

"We can't wait for that."  said Mulder as he got up. "I'm
going to my office to look up her phone number.  I think
she needs to come here as soon as possible."


XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX


A clock ticked somewhere in the background, but Nikky
couldn't decide whether to regard it as musical or
monotonous.  Other than that, there was complete silence
in the room.

She opened one eye, but just a crack.  Although the light
wasn't overpowering, it still took some getting used to.

From what she could tell, she was in some kind of damp
room with white painted cinder block walls.  There were
no windows, and she was fairly certain that the door
adjacent to her was locked securely.

Nikky willed herself out of her drug-induced haze and
tried to get up from the cot she had found herself lying
on.  But her body rebelled, and she slumped woozily back
into the musty mattress.

She had no idea where she was, or how long she had been
abducted.  She couldn't even tell whether it was day
or night.  All she could tell was that her body was
desperately craving for coffee.

Nikky supposed that she should be thankful that the room
was lit and, from what she could tell, her surroundings
weren't too threatening.  So she tried to tell her heart
to slow its rapid pace.  This was not a good time to panic.

*Why me?* she wondered. *Why would anybody want to kidnap
me?*

Suddenly she heard a key turn in the lock, and the door
opened.  In walked her 'customer' from the store, who
promptly lit up a cigarette.

"What do you want with me?" asked Nikky, pleased that
her voice projected more anger than panic.

Exhaling a cloud of smoke, the man answered, "Actually,
you are here because there is something I _don't_ want
you to do."

"Couldn't you have just asked politely?" she suggested
sarcastically.

The cigarette smoking man ignored her.

"I am prepared to give you anything you want, if only
you give me your word that you will leave your fanfic
unfinished,"  he said, as he flicked ashes off of the
tip of his cigarette.

Nicky considered the offer and wondered why someone would
go to such great lengths to keep her from, of all things,
writing fanfic.  While her work had won some awards, she
didn't think it was worth getting kidnapped over.

Still, she thought to herself, the offer was enticing.  It
was certainly a great excuse to not finish her 850K behemoth.
Surely, she reasoned, someone else could write the ending if
they really wanted to.

"I can have anything I want in return for walking away from
fanfic?" reiterated Nikky, thinking of the closets full of
shoes she could possess.

"Anything," promised the smoking man.  "But there's a catch.
You'll have to stay here so that I can make sure that you keep
your end of the bargain."

"Somehow," Nikky replied, "I'm getting the feeling that this
isn't exactly negotiable."

"You're a very bright young lady," smirked the man.  "But
I will allow you some time to think about your decision.
We can make this as easy or as difficult as you want.
I'll be back later for your answer."

And with that, the mysterious man left her to consider her
non-negotiable Faustian deal.


XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX


"Scully, she's gone!" choked Mulder into his cell phone.

When Nikky hadn't answered her phone at home, Mulder drove
over to Unfinished Business, thinking that he could talk
to her there.

Instead, he learned the horrible news from an employee.

"I just heard on the radio that someone was abducted from a
furniture store yesterday.  Was it Nikky?" asked Scully.

"Yes," he confirmed, "and I think we both know whose
handiwork it is."

"Mulder?" came the shaky voice over his phone.

Mulder was overcome with concern.  "What is it?"

"Come home."

That was all she said, but he knew it was tantamount to an
admission of helplessness. And he knew that it was probably
killing her on the inside to ask him to come protect her.

"I'm on my way," he assured her.  Hitting the "off" button
on his phone, he hurried outside to his car.


XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX


There was just something very odd about this whole situation,
Nikky thought.  For the second time in a month, her writing
skills were given far greater importance than she thought
should be normal.

First, her therapist had been pressuring her to write more.
And now, she had just been abducted by someone who was
effectively going to see to it that she retired from
world of fanfic.

Nikky had always assumed that creative writing was supposed
to be more of a hobby or a labor of love, but these people
were behaving as if their very lives were dependent upon it.

She recalled how her therapist had recoiled in horror when
she had mentioned that she had some unfinished fanfic.
She could tell that he had thought that she hadn't seen
his reaction, but she had.

She puzzled over his diagnosis of URAS and its implications.

Then too, she thought it was odd that he had asked her to
write a story about his wife, who was blinded in a freak
accident, when she had already started a similar story years
before.

And now she was being given a deal, which she literally
could not refuse, by a man who behaved as if her characters
were real live people.  She thought back at how he did a
double-take in the store when she said Mrs. Scully's name.
Surely he didn't think that her customer could have anything
to do with one of her fanfic characters, could he?

Nikky was certain that this Mrs. Scully from the DC area
wasn't connected to the smoking man, because she was too
nice.  But still, she couldn't help wondering if this
piece of information could be helpful to her.

She wasn't sure but somehow, Nikky thought, all these events
fit together like pieces to a puzzle.

Suddenly, she heard the door being unlocked and opened.
Two men entered carrying several boxes.  One she recognized,
the other she had never seen before.  They set them down in
what had become her living room.

"Here are the things you requested," said the familiar one.
I have other business to conduct, so you'll probably never
see me again.  I'm leaving in the very capable hands of
Harvey."

The thought of never seeing him again bothered Nikky,
because she knew he had the answers to her questions.
She realized that she had to speak up now, or forever
hold her peace.  "Dude--" she started.

The man glared at her and then started to leave.

"You haven't told me your name," she shrugged. "Before you
go, help me understand something."

The man stopped in the doorway. "You can ask, but I may not
give you an answer," was the illusive reply.

Nikky mustered her courage and began.  "Why me?  I'm a
nobody to you.  All I've done is write some fanfic -- and
I haven't even written anything new for almost two years!"
she exclaimed. "Why are you treating me as if I'm a
dangerous person?"

The pronouncement was short. "You are."

"But I can't be!" she exclaimed.  "I run an unfinished
furniture store.  I am no threat to you.  I think you're
mistaken."

The man before her did not seem to agree.  "You belong to
Gossamer."

"Well, my fanfic is archived there," admitted Nikky, "but
that's no reason for you to kidnap me."

"Indeed it is," corrected her captor.  "You're a writer,
and as long as there are people like you around, people
like me will always be viewed as evil."

"But you are evil," she said, not caring about the possible
consequences.

"Well young lady," said the smoking man as he turned to
leave, "it looks like you've never taken the Dale Carnegie
course on winning friends and influencing people."

He entered the hallway.  "I must be going," he said, "Harvey
will be here to assist you with anything you need."

"Wait!" pleaded Nikky, as she ran to the door.  But Harvey
blocked her path. "What if I write some fanfic with you as
the hero?" she cried out.

The man laughed at her suggestion, "It wouldn't work, because
you don't really believe it -- at least not now.  Maybe someday
you will come to understand that I am not the villain here.
_Then_ I might allow you to write all the fanfic you want."

Even though she knew that there were no more answers
forthcoming, Nikky made one more feeble attempt at
continuing a dialog. "Where are you going?" she asked.

The man paused for a moment. With a grin on his face that
Nikky couldn't quite interpret, he answered "To get you
some company."

It didn't take Nikky very long to figure out that he meant
other Gossamer writers.

"Could you start off by kidnapping Karen Rasch, MD1016, and
Dianora first?" she called out as Harvey closed her door.
"I've always wanted to meet them."


XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX


"I'm Dr. Jack Shippenberg," said Mulder, as he showed his
fake ID to the police officer, "and I'd like to help assist
with your investigation into the disappearance of Nikky
Perole.  I'm a psychologist and she was one of my clients."

"I'm Detective Frankly," replied the officer. "There's not
much to tell you.  It's as if she disappeared into thin air.
So she was a client of yours?"

Mulder nodded, "Yes."

The policeman took out his notebook and pen.  "Can you tell
me why she was seeing you?"

"Confidentiality issues aside for the moment, I'm convinced
that it's URAS.  But I only saw her twice."

Detective Frankly stopped writing. "I'm a what?!?"

Mulder shook his head and sighed, "The letters U-R-A-S.
They stand for Unrecognized or Repressed Anagnorisis Syndome."

"Oh..."  The officer considered the diagnosis for a moment.
"Sounds pretty serious."

"In a way it is," Mulder agreed, "because the livelihoods of
other people could be at stake if she isn't treated."

"So it's like she's a carrier," the detective rephrased.
"She herself wouldn't experience any symptoms, but others
around her could be in danger."

Mulder added, "She could go on and lead a relatively healthy
existence, but we can't take the chance of having her
condition ruin other people's lives.  We've got to find her
so that we can get her the help she desperately needs."

Frankly put down his pen, and took a sip of his lukewarm
coffee.  "So why do you think she was kidnapped,
Dr. Shippenberg?" he asked.

"My theory is that are others who found out about her
condition, and these people will stop at nothing in their
quest to destroy other people's lives.  I think it's their
plan to manipulate her psychological disorder and eventually
use it against innocent people."

The officer shook his head. "I don't understand."

"There's no time to explain. You just have to trust me,"
Mulder stressed. "We must find this young lady.  And if
you can cooperate with me, we might be able to find her
and get her the help she needs before it's too late!"


XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX


Nikky stirred her spaghetti sauce and turned down the
burner to let it simmer.  'B.C.' or Before Captivity,
Nikky was never one for eating much of anything.  But now
she took an interest in cooking, simply because it helped
to pass the time.

She was tired of shoes.  She had a whole closet filled
from floor to ceiling with all the possible varieties.
But what good were shoes, she asked herself, if there
wasn't anyone else around to show them off to?

It was like dancing without a partner, or playing a game
or Rook all alone.

She was tired of material goods in general.  True to his
word, the smoking man had provided everything that she had
requested -- and then some.

As a test, she made all sorts of weird and outlandish
requests from peacock feathers to a miniature Eiffel Tower.
She even asked for a daily thermos of freshly made Starbuck's
venti vanilla latte.  And sure enough, it was all delivered
to her door within 24 hours.

But all the shoes, feathers, and souvenirs surrounding her
living quarters could not fill the void created as a result
of her isolation from the rest of humanity.  The coffee
helped, but she had to admit to herself that it still wasn't
an adequate substitute for companionship.

She knew it wasn't right, but a small part of her hoped
that the smoking man would return with some other fanfic
authors sometime soon.  Not that she would wish kidnapping
on other people, but she was lonely and she had always
wanted a chance to meet her Gossamer friends.  Until now,
she had only been able to get to know them via e-mail.
The idea of being able to meet these people in person,
gave her something to look forward to with each passing
day of captivity.

*Company would be nice, but freedom would be even better.*
she thought.

Stirring the boiling angel hair pasta, her thoughts turned
to her situation.  Surely someone by now would have
recognized that she had been kidnapped.  She wondered if
a search team was still out looking for her, and wished that
she had an idea of where she was.  If _she_ didn't have a
clue where she was after all this time, how would anyone
else be able to locate her?

"I bet Mulder and Scully would be able to find me..." she
muttered under her breath.

She opened her bottom cupboard and routed through her
assortment of containers to find her plastic strainer.
While draining the water from the pasta, she was struck
with an epiphany.

She ran over to her peacock feather arrangement and grabbed
a plume.  Then she went into her bathroom and took out an
extra roll of toilet paper.  And finally, she returned to
the kitchen.

"Yeah, I bet Mulder and Scully could rescue me!" she repeated
as she dipped the point of the plume in the spaghetti sauce
and unrolled a length of the Charmin.


XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX


"Are you sure they won't recognize us?" asked Scully, as
she smoothed her wimple.

"Positive," assured Mulder. "They still think you're blind."

Scully had awakened from an afternoon nap the day before,
and had scared the living daylights out of him when she
screamed, "I CAN SEE!"

"True," she conceded, "but dressing up as a priest and a nun
doesn't seem to me to be a good enough disguise.  Do you
actually think we can walk right in to wherever they're
holding Nikky -- without anyone realizing that it's us?"

"Yes," Mulder nodded emphatically. "You got your sight
back -- out of the blue.  To me, that must mean she's been
able to write.  And I firmly believe that it means that
she's also orchestrating her rescue.  I'm going to trust
that she will have the rescue scenario and our escape
written out too."

"If you're so sure about this, where is she?" challenged
Scully.

"My guess is that she's been taken back to the D.C area.
Possibly one of the military bases nearby."

Scully arched her eyebrow.  "That's a pretty big leap
there -- even for you, Mulder.  She could be anywhere,
and we can't afford to be wrong."

Mulder thought for a minute. "What if I'm not really
jumping to conclusions?  What if Nikky figured out where
she was, and this is not my genius nature?"

He looked thoroughly depressed.  "What if it wasn't my
intelligence that got me my 'Spooky' reputation in the
FBI," he continued, "but it was because I was a puppet
of one or more writers?"

Scully laughed, "Well, that would certainly explain to me
why you were almost always right during our cases."

As soon as the words came out of her mouth, she regretted
them.  "Regardless of how this is happening," she backtracked,
"there is a person out there who needs our help.  And if
you think that she's in D.C., then we'll have to go back and
find her."


XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX


"We're here to see Miss Perole," said the bearded priest,
accompanied by a nun.

Harvey flipped through his clipboard.  "I don't remember
her requesting your presence."

Nikky overheard the conversation right outside her door.
Quickly she jumped up and ran over to her refrigerator,
grabbing her plume from the kitchen table.  Locating
her container of left-over pasta, she opened it and
plunged the plume into the sauce.  Then she dashed into
her bathroom and unrolled a section of toilet paper.

'Request for Confession and Communion,' she wrote.  And then
she strained to hear the rest of the conversation.

"Ah, here it is," said Harvey, perusing the form. "But it
hasn't been approved yet.  I'm sorry, but I must ask you
to leave."

'Approve request,' she scribbled.

"Check it again," insisted the priest.

Harvey flipped through the pages on his clipboard and found
the request.

"I'm sorry, I don't know why I didn't see that signature
before," said Harvey, puzzled.  "Of course, I'll let you
in.  My apologies for any inconvenience."

Nikky breathed a sigh of relief and then wadded up the
evidence and flushed it.

The guard dug his set of keys out of his pocket and unlocked
the door, and showed them in to Nikky's living room.

"Nikky, there's a priest and a nun here to see you,"
Harvey announced.

Nikky came out of the bathroom, and did a double-take.
Mulder could tell that she recognized them, and prayed
that Harvey didn't notice it.

Nikky recovered and approached them, hand outstretched.
"Hi, I'm Nikky," she said as she shook his hand.

"Hello, I'm Father Reginald," said Mulder and then he
gestured to Scully, "and this is Sister Katherine.  We're
here to minister to your spiritual needs."

Nikky shook her hand and then looked over at Harvey and
said, "If you will excuse us.  Please."

"Sure, I'll just be right outside the door,"  he said, as
he left.

Nikky was silent until she was sure that Harvey was out
or range.  Then she threw her arms around her "priest" and
hugged him.  "Dr. Shippenberg -- or should I say Mulder --
you rock!"

"And you must be Dana Scully," she said as she gave Scully
a hug, too.  "Please, sit down."

Mulder and Scully sat down on the sofa, and Nikky pulled
her stuffed chair close, so they could talk quietly.

"I'm not sure about this, but I think I should be thanking
you for my eyesight,"  said Scully as she studied the young
woman.

"You're welcome.  I can't believe it worked!" exclaimed
Nikky in a hushed voice.

"We can catch up on our introductions later.  Right now we
need to get out of here," said Mulder.

Suddenly, they all heard Harvey unlocking the door.

Mulder's face fell.  "Don't tell me, Nikky, you didn't
write our escape!"

"Oops," winced the young woman, "I didn't finish it yet!"

Scully bought them some time by shoving a chair at an
angle against the door knob.  But seconds later they heard
gunshots and the door was pocked with bullet holes.

Nikky stood facing the door, readying herself for Harvey's
eventual entrance.

"What do you think you are you doing?!?" asked Mulder,
seeing a crazed come over her face.

"I've got my pointy boots on, and I'm gonna kick his--"

"Nikky!" Mulder exclaimed, glaring at her.

"Get away from the door!" ordered Scully.

Like a metronome, the bullets continued to pound a steady
rhythm into the door, stopping only when Harvey needed to
reload his weapon.

Running towards the kitchen, Mulder asked, "Do you have
anything you can use as a weapon?  Silverware, kitchen
utensils, bathroom appliances -- anything?"

Scully ran towards the bathroom, and Nikky followed her.
"I'm not allowed to have knives here," she called out
to Mulder.  "The closest thing I have is a potato peeler.
It's in the drawer to your left!"

Mulder opened the drawer and routed through the utensils,
scattering spatulas and measuring spoons across the floor.

"Here it is!"

Scully searched for potential weapons in the bathroom,
but could only come up with a blow dryer and a curling
iron.  "We might be able to use the cords to trip him." she
said as she tied them together and tossed the curling iron
to Nikky.

In the meantime, Mulder figured that Harvey must have run
out of bullets, because the gunfire had stopped and he was
ramming himself against the door.  The door, weakened by
the bullets, began to buckle.

"Hurry, we don't have much time!" shouted Scully, dragging
Nikky by the knotted cords over towards the door.  They
dove into position, Scully on one side with the blow dryer,
and Nikky on the other with her curling iron.

Seconds later, the door broke in half, and Scully and Nikky
pulled the cords taut in time to fell Harvey.

Mulder ran up to him and held him a potato peeler-point.

"Freeze!" he yelled, "Don't make me use this."

Harvey sneered and lunged at Mulder's feet.

"Run, Scully!  Get her out of here!" yelled Mulder, as he
fought of his attacker, using moves he learned from his
KP duty at the convent.

Scully grabbed Nikky and ran out the door.

The two women raced out of the building to the car.

"Give me some paper and a pen!" ordered Nikky, running
around to the passenger side, while Scully unlocked the
car.

Jumping inside, Scully yelled "Check the glove compartment!"

Nikky unlatched the car door and got in. She opened the
glove compartment and riffled through its contents,
finding a notebook and a pencil.

Quickly she scribbled 'Mulder beats up Harvey and escapes
unnoticed.'

Moments later, Mulder came running out of the building.
Scully turned on the ignition and drove the car to meet
him.  Mulder barely had time to get in the back seat
before she drove away, tires squealing.

"This rocks!" exclaimed Nikky.

From her reflection in the rearview mirror, Mulder saw
Scully roll her eyes.


XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX


"Well, fry mah hide!" exclaimed the old familiar voice over
the phone.

"Sir?"

"Ah nevah thot thet yo'd be alive, but Ah jest saw yo' an'
Mulder's pitcher in th' noospaper! Yo' two is heroes!"

"AD Skinner, are you drunk?"

"Sho'nuff is. It tends t'brin' out mah her'tage. But Ah's not
an 'Aye-Dee' ennymo'e. The F_B_Ah don't haf enny use fo' an
alc'holic assis'nt direcko'.  'P_Sss_T_D,' thass whut they
call it, Ah think. Ah got on disibil'ty sho'tly af'er yo'
two went missin'."

Scully was heart-broken. "I'm sorry to hear that, sir"

"Yo' doesn't hafta call me 'suh' ennymo'e, Danah.  And don't
blame yo'seff fo' this hyar one. Ah's happier than I've evah
been, as enny fool kin plainly see."

Scully was horrified.  "Sir-- Walter?"

"Ah doesn't haf a care in th' wo'ld right now." he continued.
"All Ah need is a bottle, an' Ah's happy. Thet govment
cornspiracy stuff was gittin' kind of bothersome, yo' know...
But enuff about me, Ah's hankerin' t'knows about yo' an' Fox.
How've yo' been?"

Scully gave him a quick update about where they were living
and Mulder's clinical practice.

"Soun's like yo' two finally haf a no'mal life. Well, ah's
happy fo' yo'! Fry mah hide!" he exclaimed so loudly that
Scully had to jerk the phone away from her ear.

Hoping that he would be able to comprehend what she was
going to say next, she continued.  "But we're in danger
again, now that our pictures are all over the news.  We'll
probably have to go into hiding again.  We can't take any
chances with the Consortium."

"So'ry t'hear thet. No fine deed goes unpunished, it seems."

Scully heard him take a swig.

"Eff'n ah can save yo', let me." he said, and then he burped
loudly.

At that point, she wasn't sure if he were capable of saving
himself from dust bunnies.  "Thanks.  We'll take you up on
that offer if we ever need to." she said, knowing that
they'd never do it.

"Wal, ah gotta go.  Nature's callin'! Yo' know, I've noticed
thet it's been callin' a lot evah since Ah started six-packin'."

Scully was glad the painful conversation was coming to a
close.  "You take care of yourself," Then sadly, she added,
"Good bye, sir." and hung up the phone.


XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX


"So do you think it was supposed to end like this?" asked
Scully, as she handed Mulder another plate wrapped in
newsprint.

He put it in the box and then closed the cardboard flaps.
"I don't know." he replied, as he taped the box shut.
"I can't help thinking that we're in some kind of alternate
universe. And that it all started that morning when we woke
up and discovered that we had lost two years."

"Skinner sure was in an alternate universe."  Scully wrapped
another plate.  "I'm worried about him."

"Me too," agreed Mulder.  "But if he could find our phone
number, as drunk as you say he was, then so can the
Consortium.  We've gotta get out of here."

They picked up the pace and finished packing up the kitchen.
Then they went to their bedroom and began packing their
clothes.

"Do you think that we will have to live like this for the
rest of our lives?" asked Scully as she started hanging
their shirts in a wardrobe box.

"I don't know about you, but I'd give anything to be able
to have our old lives back."  Mulder said as dumped the
contents of his sock drawer in the bottom of the box.

Scully couldn't agree more.  She went over to their
closet for more shirts, but then stopped. Turning to
Mulder, she said, "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

Mulder paused for a moment.  "I think I'm thinking what
you're thinking."

"Well, then we'd better call Nikky."

They abandoned their moving boxes and raced for the car.


XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX


"You want me to do what?" Nikky was astonished.

At first, she had been totally dumbfounded when she answered
her doorbell and find her two heroes standing in front of her.
They had originally agreed to part ways because Mulder and
Scully had thought it would be a safer arrangement for Nikky
if they stayed away from each other.

It had been weeks since her return, and she had thought that
they hadn't even known where she lived.  But then, she
realized that Mulder, as Dr. Shippenberg, would have had her
home address.

However, Nikky's second shock was the reason for their visit.

"We want you to finish your Road series," requested Scully.

Nikky was stunned.  "But that would mean that you'd be
blind again!"

Scully nodded gravely.  "I know," she sighed, "but I'm
trusting you to work that out."

Nikky suddenly remembered her manners and invited the couple
into her house.  She seated them on her sofa, while she went
to pour some coffee.

Returning with three mugs, Nikky asked them, "Why would
you ever want to go back?"

Mulder took a sip from his mug and replied, "Let's face it.
We don't belong here.  And I think you can get us back to
where we need to be."

He glanced at Scully, making sure that she was still willing
to sacrifice her sight.  She returned his glance with a look
of resolved determination.

"If we move back to Albuquerque," he continued, "and you
start writing, I think we'll all end up just fine."

"Okay, I guess it means that other novel I've been working
on for 3 years can wait..." said Nikky, stirring her coffee.

"When you finish it, we'll be the first to read it,"  Mulder
promised. "So do we have a deal?"

Nikky hesitated for a moment. "Are you sure you can count on
me?  You've got to know better than anyone else that I'm an
expert at procrastination."

"You're our only hope, and I know that you can do it,"
encouraged Scully.

"We've got most of our belongings packed, and can be in
Albuquerque within a week," said Mulder.  "Then we'll just
sit tight and wait."

"But how will you know I've written anything?" asked Nikky.

"I think our first sign will be that Scully will lose her
sight.  As soon as that happens, we'll head for the
Albuquerque bus station and take it from there," Mulder said,
getting up to leave.  Scully finished her coffee, and rose to
follow.

Nikky showed them out and accompanied them to their car.
Mulder opened the passenger door for Scully and closed it
after she was seated.  Then he walked around to the driver's
side and got in.  Seeing that Nikky looked like she still
had something to say, Scully rolled down her window.

"Are you absolutely positively sure that you two want to do
this?" asked Nikky, looking from one to the other.

"Yes," answered Mulder, and then he turned the key in the
ignition.  He looked over at Scully to confirm that she was
in agreement and then he put the car in gear.

"Yeah," Scully replied, as Mulder started to back out of the
driveway, "because compared to life in your Road series, this
is just a Cul-de-sac."


THE END


................................................................


Special thanks:

- To Nicole Perry for allowing me to write this!  Her
wonderful Road series is required reading for every X-Phile,
as far as I'm concerned.  Thanks for being such a wonderful
target!  :-)
- To Karen Rasch, MD1016, and Dianora, who were great
consultants.
- To RevMa, and Sisters Autumn, Paula, and La..Dee..Da..
and Shadow (Sarah Gillians's mother) of the OBSSE for
allowing me to take their names in vain.
- And lastly, many thanks to Danielle T. for her wonderful
beta reading!


Notes:

- Skinner's lines were courtesy of The Dialectizer found at:
http://www.rinkworks.com/dialect
- Selections from Nicole Perry's "A Divided Highway" were
quoted, as well.
- All of Nicole Perry's fanfic titles (from Gossamer) are
hidden in Cul-de-sac.  Can you find them?