Chapter 7: Visions
 
1.
FBI Headquarters
July 5th, 10:30 A.M.

Returning to the office, Mulder threw himself back into his chair 
and ignored Tiff's inquiring look. He had gotten distracted from 
his search for Kenneth Bond, but he had to get back on that. He 
had to feel like he was doing something.

The file was gone. He frantically pawed through the piles of 
papers on his desk. They had taken the file.

Tiff asked, "What're you looking for?"

"A file," he said as he craned his head to look under the desk.

"The background check on Bond?" she queried.

She was shocked at the cold look he gave her. His voice was soft 
and dangerous when he answered. "Yes. Do you have it?"

She bristled. "Yes. I thought I'd help you with it. It seemed as 
though it was very important."

He put out his hand. "It is important. I'd rather you not work on 
it, however. It could be dangerous for you."

Exasperated, she replied, "That's my job. I'm your partner and a 
fully qualified FBI agent." 

His face was suddenly sad.  "This is outside the realm of the FBI. 
It's something that goes beyond the boundaries of justice."

She raised a brow.  Well, wasn't he a melodramatic thing?  "Agent 
Higgins brought in some information.  I merely put it in the 
file."

He snatched the file from her.  "What is it?"

"They've identified this Bond person as a student at George 
Washington University, in the Chemistry department.  The school 
sent over his records and an address.  Do you want to go pick him 
up?"

Mulder scanned the paperwork furiously.  Slowly, he said, "No.  I 
don't want to tip Them off.  Let's go talk to some of his fellow 
students, try to get a fix on this guy."

"What's he's done?" Tiff asked.

"I'm not sure, that's one of the problems."  Mulder flipped the 
file closed.  "I'm more interested in the organization he works 
for."

His gaze burned into her.  "This is a matter of life and death, 
Davis.  Any false move may spook his employers and sent them 
underground.  I have to find those men, do you understand me?"

"Yeah, I got it.  I won't let you down, trust me," Tiff tried to 
reassure him.

He looked as though she had slapped him.  His eyes shifted to a 
small photograph pinned to the bulletin board.  It was of him and 
Agent Scully.  "I can't give my trust easily, Davis.  Don't be 
offended.  Too much is at stake for me." 

She nodded.  She understood the sentiment, even if the causes 
evaded her.  "Shall I send out agents to the campus?"

"Yes, thank you.  Have them report directly to me, however," he 
said, returning to the file.

She willed herself to not be offended as she reached for the 
phone. 


2.
7:35 PM

It had been a very long day. Scully sank into her couch, carefully 
placing the steaming cup of herbal tea on the table in front of 
her. 

She was tired in a way she had never felt tired in her life. It 
frightened her. It seemed to take over her body and her will. She 
felt a slight fluttering in her abdomen, like the stroke of moth's 
wings.

She gently laid a hand on her stomach. It must be the fetus. She 
had allowed herself to review some of her textbooks on the early 
stages of pregnancy. 

She closed her eyes for a moment to visualize a growing child 
inside her. Instead she felt as though she were seized by the 
throat and pinned to the couch by some heavy unseen hand.

Her breathing became shallow and frantic. She opened her eyes, but 
all she saw was darkness through a sickening, swirling haze of 
green. She was back in the tube.

She could feel the fluttering again. She remembered feeling the 
movement then, confined in the freezing liquid. This wasn't her 
and 
Mulder's child. It was one of those.things--growing in her, 
feeding off of her until it was ready to rip itself free from her 
body.

She managed to shake her head hard enough to break the spell. She 
was just regaining control of her breathing when Mulder opened her 
door, unannounced.

She attacked him. "What the hell are you doing?"

He must have been numb enough not care about her rudeness. "We 
need to talk."

He sat down beside her on the sofa, tossing a file on the coffee 
table, and she went stiff, staring straight ahead.

He mumbled, "You've gotten plenty of chances to speak your mind, 
set the rules.  Well, I thought I'd come over and put in some 
words of my own."

"Would you like some tea?" She played the little hostess.

He was firm. "No. Stay here."

They sat next to each other in silence. She had almost fallen into 
a trance when he spoke and startled her.

"I think we should get married."

Perhaps that's why she had been avoiding him. She had known he 
would say this at some point.

"No."

His voice was calm. "We're having a baby and we love each other. 
Why shouldn't we get married?"

She turned to give him a hard look. He raised a brow at her and 
his eyes dripped dark moss. "You don't love me?"

She snapped her gaze back front and center and pressed her lips 
together. 

He gave a bitter chuckle. "I always assumed the problem was that 
you didn't want to love me, not that you didn't love me."

She had to be rational. "Mulder, you're moving ahead too fast. We 
have to find out what's in me first, then we can make decisions 
for the future.  If we get married and something goes wrong..."

She was surprised he hadn't tried to touch her yet. Maybe he was 
serious. "Scully, sometimes in life you have to take a leap of 
faith. I believe this is my child. I know it is. I love and want 
to protect the two of you." She had never heard such conviction in 
his voice.

That's what broke her. She could barely hold in the tears as she 
said, "I know you want to believe, but that's not enough. I have 
to have the proof first. I have to know that whatever is in me 
won't hurt you."

He sat silent, shaking his head, and she reached out to grasp his 
hand.

"I know you. You're not strong enough for what it'll be like if 
something goes wrong. And then you'll leave me."

He didn't argue with her assessment of his strength and this 
vaguely disturbed her.  "So this is all about how you don't want 
to be alone? I hate to tell you, you are alone.  You just want 
control."

She had to swing back at him.  "And you want to take away what 
little control I have left."

He finally faced her and his eyes were black.  "That's how you see 
my love?  Taking something away from you?  I want to give you what 
little pathetic support I have to give."

She dropped her gaze under the weight of his darkness.  "You think 
love's enough, and maybe it is for you.  But for me, it isn't.  
There are too many confusing issues: there's my career, our work 
on the X-files--just because we're having a baby doesn't 
mean we'd have a good marriage--" 

He leaned in close to whisper in her ear with a small smile 
playing on his lips.  "So you love me?"

He always found the one thing he wanted to hear and hung onto it.  
She turned her head slightly so that her mouth was next to his 
neck.  She murmured one word, branding it into his skin.  "Yes."

He bent his neck, pressing her head into his shoulder, surrounding 
her with his warmth and hard muscles.  "Yes too," drifted into her 
ear. 

She had to stop him from seeing this as such a simple issue.  She 
pulled away from him and pushed her hair away from her face in 
frustration.  "If everything goes all right with the tests, and 
this is our baby, I'll marry you. I believe a child should be 
raised by two parents whenever possible.  And I know you would be 
a wonderful father."

He stopped her with his big, beautiful smile.  "Yeah?"

She had to reach out and trace those lips with her fingertip, 
memorizing that moment of pure joy.  "Yes.  But..."

The smiled disappeared. "But?"

She chose her words carefully. They needed to be said but she 
didn't want to hurt him any more than she had already. "Mulder, I 
won't have time for your emotional baggage. If this is our child, 
the train has left the station and is going full speed ahead. I'm 
gonna kick your steamer trunk full of crap off the back."

He laughed, and this time it was rich and deep. "I'm keeping you 
to your word.  You'll marry me." He grinned impishly. "This went 
better than I thought.  You met me halfway."

"Are you suggesting I'm rigid?" she asked, reaching forward to 
pick up her cup of tea.

"Yes, but in a wonderful sort of way," he mumbled as he brushed 
the soft hair from her neck and touched his lips gently to her 
scar.
  
Mulder rested his mouth on the soft skin of Scully's neck, his 
breath 
lifting her tiny pale hairs.  She didn't move away and he 
rejoiced.  He sucked a piece of her skin between his teeth and bit 
down gently. 

She pulled away, but only to twist her head and search out his 
mouth, grabbing his lower lip between her own teeth and biting 
harder than he would dare.  He gasped and she invaded his open 
mouth with ease.

He always had been aware at how small she was, but only now, when 
he covered her body with his own, did he realize how delicate she 
was.  He spanned her waist with his great paws, feeling like some 
bumbling brute as he pulled her up to feel his arousal.

She was a fairy, all light and shimmering skin, while he was the 
big dark tortoise, grumbling and groaning his way through the 
forest.  He was fumbling at her breasts and hips, stroking her 
face with a shaking hand.  

He was frantic.   He didn't know where to start.  He was too 
large.  He didn't fit on the couch.  He didn't fit on her. 

She was able to slither out from under him and reluctantly pull 
her lips free.  He let his glowing face fall to the cushions.  He 
had to let her know that he would never hurt her.

"I'm sorry.  I didn't mean to push."  He rolled over to watch her 
slip down to the floor beside him.  "I want you to know, if it's 
what you want, this can be a marriage in name only."

She burst out laughing which would have exhilarated him were he 
not so humiliated.  "Oh God, Mulder, I've haven't heard that term 
since I spent the summer I was 15 reading nothing but Harlequin 
Romances."

He pushed himself up on his elbow, trying to be suave, but feeling 
perturbed.  "I just want to be sensitive to your needs."

She gave him one of her soft, devastating smiles. His body went 
lax and his dick went hard. She reached out and ran her fingers 
through his hair until it stood on end to match his erection.

He gulped. "I understand if you have some problems you need to 
work through--"

She looked puzzled. "What?"

His voice squeaked. Oh, yeah, he was ready to be married. "I mean, 
with sex."

Her face went still and her tone was cool. "Excuse me?"

He wasn't going to back down. He'd done all right so far this 
evening.  "When we were--having sex--I came--" He finished in a 
rush. 
"And you didn't."  He touched her shoulder lightly. "I'm sorry, it 
was hardly a roses and moonlight encounter. I'm not normally that 
bad."

She looked as though she was trying to control a grin.

He hurried on. "Not that I'm bad. Not to say I'm great. Well, I 
mean, it's hard to judge oneself--"

She must have taken mercy on him. She began to explain. "Mulder, 
has a woman ever told you what goes through her mind sometimes 
when she feels the man about to come?"

He shook his head. 

She let her head drop back onto the cushion beside his knee. 
"You're having sex, everything feels wonderful, the guy is coming, 
you're coming...but I don't care how many forms of birth-control 
you're using, when you feel that man about to come, there's this 
moment of panic.  What'll I do if I get pregnant?"

He stroked her soft hair, brushing it back behind her ear.

She looked embarrassed. "It'd been a long time. A really long 
time." He smiled. "I hadn't had to confront my sterility in that 
situation. So I was coming and you were coming and the thought 
popped into my head." 

She rolled her head over to look at him.  "Suddenly I was 
overwhelmed.  I wasn't going to get pregnant.  I wasn't going to 
have your child.  The grief just shut everything down."

He couldn't stop himself.  "There's an irony in here somewhere."

She wasn't upset with him and laughed.  "Yeah, that's occurred to 
me." Her voice was lazy and gentle, like a warm summer breeze.

"So there's nothing wrong?" he whispered as he leaned in again to 
stroke her lower lip with his damp tongue. 

"Mulder," she moaned right before he sealed her protest off with a 
kiss.  He was folded in half like a clam to reach her mouth.  Her 
little hands were running through his hair, creating static 
electricity that caused his skin to jump.

"Mulder."  She pushed him away gently and he thought he would cry.  
Here it comes.  "I don't think we should do this."  Yep.  There it 
was.

"Why not?"  He couldn't keep the whine from his voice.

She began rearranging the magazines piled on her coffee table.  "I 
think we need to sort out if these feelings are residual, left 
over from our drugging."

He hurried to correct her.  "Scully, I meant what I said at work.  
I've always desired you--in a general way."  She looked at him and 
cocked a brow, but her eyes were hurt-filled.  He grumbled, "You 
know what I mean.  I didn't acknowledge the realm of my feelings, 
but the drugs certainly gave me some clarity."

He lightly gripped her shoulders and squeezed them.  "Byers did 
some more work on the composition of the drugs, and it's his 
opinion that they would only lower inhibitions, opening us to 
feelings that were already there, rather than create new 
feelings."

She broke in.  "Oh?  You and Byers talked about this?"

He winced.  "Yes--he said he thought most of the chemicals were 
intended to have an effect on my sperm and your eggs."  He tried 
to inject some humor into the situation.  "I wondered why the 
whole floor was coming to drink our coffee.  There'll be plenty of 
playmates for our kid in the FBI daycare center."

He could see he'd gone too far when she rolled her head back on 
her neck to look at him, her expression overwhelmed and hurt.  

"Scully--"  He tried to kiss her again, but she lowered her head, 
blocking his descent.   

She started to talk as though he hadn't said anything.  "This is 
all too much, too fast.  If this isn't our baby, if we have to go 
back to normal--we shouldn't have any more complications than we 
already have."

He sucked his lips into his mouth and bit down hard.  He had 
prodded her enough for one night.  If he meant it when he said he 
loved her and wanted to protect her, he wouldn't break down her 
reserves while she felt vulnerable.  She had said she needed her 
strength.

"Can I at least stay here tonight, though?  I'm so worried about 
you, I can't sleep," he asked.

She thought a moment, and said, "Okay, I'm worried about you too."  
She glanced over the couch.  "You'll have to share my bed, though. 
You can't fit on this."

She pursed her lips when he couldn't hold back his grin.  "Goody."  
He raised his hands in surrender.  "I promise.  I'll be a good 
boy."

All he got for that wise-ass remark was the raised eyebrow.


'How come I feel like the virgin on her wedding night?' he thought 
as he sat, ridiculously stiff, against the headboard of her bed.  
His eyes roamed the room.  No TV.  What to do, what to do...

He strained his ears.  There were all sorts of soft, feminine 
sounds coming from the bathroom.  Splashing, sponging, wiping, 
applying...He rolled over onto his side quickly, pulling his knees 
up to his chest, squeezed his eyes shut and willed himself to go 
to sleep. 

He got himself in such a deep meditative state reviewing his 
mantra, 'thou shalt not touch Scully', that he jumped a foot when 
she laid a light hand on his shoulder.  "Mulder, you're on my 
side--or is it your side too?"

He opened his eyes and almost died.  She was leaned over him, her 
hair a cloud of gold from vigorous brushing, her skin damp and 
glowing from its scrubbing, her breath minty fresh...all he could 
find to do was pant like a sad puppy.  

"Sorry," he mumbled as he scooted to the other side of the 
mattress.  
"I don't have a side.  I can go either way."

"God, I hope not," she murmured as she slid under the covers.

He did a mental Homer Simpson slap, 'D'oh!' on his forehead.  If 
he got any smoother tonight he was going to have to beat her off 
with a stick.

She burrowed down into the covers and whispered, "Oh, warm 
sheets..."

His confidence returned.  She needed him.  He reached down with 
his long arms and found her cold little feet with his big, warm 
hands.  He rubbed them lightly.  "I've got my advantages--" he 
muttered into the little bit of hot soft skin peeking out between 
the collar of her pajamas and her hair.

"Mulder--" she warned but she wiggled her toes in his palms 
happily.

"I'm just offering comfort to a friend in her time of need.  No 
sex," he stated.

She reached out to snap off the light, and the room was plunged in 
darkness.  Perhaps it gave her the confidence of being in the 
confessional.  "Mulder, I have desires too, you know.  I'm not 
pushing you away because I don't want you.  I'm pushing you away 
because I do..."

He slipped up against her back and pulled her tight against him, 
happy beyond reason, and enveloped her tiny form in his warmth.  
He breathed in her ear, "Don't worry, I'll be strong for both of 
us.  You try anything and I'll make sure you regret it."

"Oh, trust me.  I already do," she said in a sleepy voice. 

'Why does she always have to have the last word?' he thought with 
irritation as he slipped away as well.


3.
July 6th, 6:45 A.M.

Mulder was normally an early riser, so he was surprised at the 
brightness of the light when he awoke. 

Where was he?  Scully's bed.  Oh, yeah.

What was that sound?  Someone...Scully? --Throwing up.  It must be 
Scully.

He leapt from the bed and hurried towards the bathroom.

Scully was having her morning prayer session in front of the 
porcelain altar when Mulder burst into the room.  Great.  She'd 
forgotten for a minute that she had left something big and warm 
in her bed in her rush to the bathroom.

She was embarrassed, but there was nothing she could do.  He wet a 
washcloth in the sink and got down on his knees beside her on the 
cold floor. 

Mercifully, the heaving stopped for a moment, but she only had the 
strength to rest her cheek on the edge of the bowl.  He carefully 
lifted her head and kept it away from the toilet.  He brushed the 
hair away from her clammy face and wiped the tears away from her 
red cheeks. 

"Don't do that, Scully.  You've got a man using that toilet now," 
he admonished her.

Now, that was a pleasant thought.  She could only groan. 

He was worried.  "Is this normal?  I mean, I understand it's 
morning sickness, but should it be this severe?"

She nodded and felt it coming up again.  She pushed at him, but he 
wouldn't go away.  He didn't leave and she tried to decide which 
was worse, him seeing her like this or being alone to suffer.

When she finally pushed herself away from the toilet, she groaned, 
"That's all there is, thank God."  He helped her to her feet and 
gave her face a final wipe with the cloth.  She staggered to the 
sink to brush her teeth.

She noticed him shifting from foot to foot, glancing down at the 
toilet.  She beat a hasty retreat, hearing the seat clang up 
against the tank.  This was going take some getting used to.

She stopped herself.  He had stayed one night and she was already 
mentally arranging things in her bureau to make room for his 
socks.  This was exactly the type of thinking she needed to avoid 
at this time. 

Listlessly, she went out to the kitchen and started the coffee, 
although she had lost her taste for the stuff since the incident 
with the drugging at work.  She heard the phone ring.  Out of the 
corner of her eye, she saw him heading towards it.

"Don't answer that!  It's probably my mother," she said as she 
quickly reached for it.

He looked at her, questioning.  "You haven't told her what's going 
on?"

She turned her back on him as she picked up the receiver.  "I 
don't want to worry her unnecessarily."  She heard him gasp in 
exasperation.

It was her mother.  She put off their usual lunch date for the 
coming weekend.  It wasn't uncommon when she thought a case would 
take her out of town.  Her mother suspected nothing, although she 
usually didn't have a disapproving half-naked man standing behind 
her, aimlessly scratching his armpit. 

"She'll know you were lying," he chided.

"Thanks.  I need that right now," was her retort.  She changed the 
subject.  "What do you want for breakfast?"

He looked surprised.  "I'll get something on the way over to my 
apartment."

She sniffed, offended.  "I've got a refrigerator full of food. 
Someone should eat it--I'm certainly not."

He was immediately concerned.  "You should eat. Something bland, 
perhaps, oatmeal?"

The thought of that coming up made her vision swim.  She just 
waved a hand at him as though to ward him off.

He came close and said, "Can I move in permanently?  You can toss 
me out anytime you...need to."

Well, there was no beating around the bush for him.  Give him an 
inch and he was going to take a mile.  She thought about it--for a 
whole two seconds.  She couldn't imagine why she would seem an 
appealing roommate at this point, but she said, "Okay," as she 
ambled back into the kitchen.

She couldn't cook for him after all.  The smell of the eggs was 
too stomach-turning.  She sat on the couch, chewing on dry toast 
and sipping tea, as he banged around in her kitchen.  She flipped 
through the file he had brought over that had been abandoned and 
forgotten last night.

"I'm still trying to place Kenneth Bond," she yelled to him.

Mulder came in to sit in the chair, with his scrambled eggs in a 
bowl and his orange juice in her nephew's Flintstones mug.  His 
boxers gaped open when he sat down and she forced her gaze back 
down onto the photographs.

He peered over at the picture.  "Do you think you've seen him 
around the Bureau or could it be a memory from our abduction?"

She shook her head in frustration.  "I don't know.  It's as though 
I've seen the face, but I just can't remember where."

Mulder picked up the file and flipped through to the latest 
additions to Bond's paperwork. "Perfect.  Is there such a thing as 
being too perfect?"

"Oh, definitely.  Doing those background checks taught me that," 
she said with a smile.

"Good family, military father, scholarship in water polo," Mulder 
grimaced at this point, "working at the Bureau to earn a little 
extra cash for college, straight-A student, lives in cheap studio 
apartment--"  He shrugged. 

He stood up and stretched, giving her a nice view of his long, 
muscular torso.  "I think Tiff and I will stake this guy out for a 
while, see what a perfect life is like."  He gathered up his 
dishes and went back into the kitchen.  "Do you think we can trust 
Tiff?  I realize Skinner picked her personally..."

He wasn't able to see the wry expression on Scully's face.  "I 
believe we can trust her.  Mr. Skinner takes our concerns very 
seriously."

He appeared in the doorway with a little frown on his face, made 
all the more sexy by his five o'clock shadow.  "Yeah, Skinner 
seems really concerned about you."  With studied indifference he 
added, "When are you going to tell him--or have you already?"

She stopped him cold.  "I haven't told him a thing.  And I won't 
until absolutely necessary and not without consulting you."

He looked properly ashamed.  "I guess I better go home and get 
dressed. So...I'll bring some things by after work, okay?"

"Okay," she was worried what his reaction was going to be to her 
next words.  "And I don't want anyone else at work to know about 
this--about us--even if we do tell Skinner.  We don't know who is 
reporting to whom, we don't know how this is going to end... What 
we'll do if the baby turns out..."  She rubbed at her eyes in 
frustration.

He spoke slowly.  "I understand.  You're right.  We don't know 
what's going to happen, and if things end up...going back to 
normal, 
we don't want your career to suffer."

She was relieved and was going to thank him, but he'd already 
headed back into her bedroom.

When he returned to the living room with his wrinkled clothes back 
on, he came towards her like he was going to kiss her good-bye.  
She jumped up to open the door for him, avoiding the contact.

He went past her, looking dejected, and she suddenly felt cruel.  
She tugged at his arm and pulled his rough cheek down to give it a 
peck.  Now she felt stupid.  The grin he gave her made her feel 
less stupid, but not much.


~~*~~*~~*~~*~~


Chapter 8: Surveillance

1.
July 6th, 8:45 A.M.

Tiff shifted in the seat of sedan.  She glanced over at her 
partner, who was staring out into space.  She certainly hoped he 
was capable of running on several planes of existence at once, or 
she was in deep shit.

"Mulder, why are we staking this guy out?"  Bond was swimming laps 
at the community pool down the street from his apartment.  Through 
the chain link fence, she watched his gleaming pale back slice 
through the water. 

"Just a routine investigation," he said.

"Hey, bud, I'm your partner, remember?" she shot back.

He started to say something and then stopped.  She said it for 
him.  "Scully's your partner.  I know that.  But she's not here 
right now.  If I'm going to back you up, I need to know what to 
expect."

He turned to face her.  "I'm sorry, Tiff. Understand that I meant 
it when I said I'm being secretive to protect you.  Take these 
people very seriously.  They play for keeps."

"Who're *they*?" she asked.

"Someone I thought was dead and now...I don't know.  I'm afraid of 
the dark, you know why?" He was being spooky again.  He answered 
before she could ask.  "You can't see what's there in the dark."

She decided to cut through all his mumbo jumbo.  "Is that why you 
have so many flashlights?"

"Huh?" he asked.

"They're everywhere."  She opened the glove box and pulled out a 
large flashlight and two small ones.  "Here.  All over the office.  
The trunk."

He looked at her blankly.  It was going to be a long day.  

Bond came out of the swimming pool, dressed, but with his hair 
dark and slick from water, unlocked his bicycle and pedaled away.  
Mulder pulled away from the curb to follow at a distance.


2.
The Factory

In the part of his attention that he always reserved to observe 
activity around him, Krycek heard his partner end his conversation 
on the phone and hang it up.  The he heard a lighter flick on as 
the man lit a cigarette.  "This was to be expected."

Interrupted in his task of reviewing some reports, Krycek looked 
up at him, bored.  "What?"

"It was only a matter of time before Mulder found Kenneth.  We may 
have to dispose of the young man."

"No."  Krycek's tone was low and tight.

"I certainly do not relish losing expensive merchandise like him, 
but may be necessary, for our protection," he continued as though 
he hadn't heard the younger man's coiled serpent word.

"It won't be necessary.  Stay calm.  It'll all be over soon," 
Krycek answered.

Now the older man was on the defensive.  "What do you mean? There 
are eight months until delivery of the merchandise."

Krycek coolly looked him in the eye.  "When was that decided, 
partner?  My understanding was we would collect it at sixteen 
weeks."

"Don't you dare do anything without my permission.  You'll regret 
it."  A threat filtered his thick blue cloud of smoke.

"I think our current employers would be interested in your changes 
in the original plan.  I think you may find them more desperate 
for results than their predecessors," Krycek hissed back.

The two men regarded each other for a few moments, testing each 
other's mettle.  The older man nodded first.  "Perhaps you're 
right. Kenneth can still be of some use to us."

Krycek grinned saucily and relaxed.  "Oh, yes--we can find many 
uses for him."

The sloped shoulders of the figure behind the desk straightened.  
"Don't push it.  We don't make these things for you to have a 
whore."

"If they aren't whores, what else are they?" Krycek asked, 
unruffled by the man's contempt.

"I suppose it takes one to know one," the other man murmured as he 
lit another cigarette.

His lightning fast temper ignited, Krycek snarled, "What the fuck 
do you mean?"

"We've used your...talents...in the past for such purposes," he 
answered easily, with the ghost of an empty smile.

Krycek blustered, "I never sold myself--" He pulled himself up, 
and 
finished speaking, covering his agitation with his sharp grin.  "I 
look at it as one of the perks of the job.  At least I use this 
position to its full advantage."

Slowly and carefully, the man said, "I have my needs taken care of 
without jeopardizing my work."

Krycek had the sudden, horrible vision of his bent, wrinkled body 
laboring over a deluxe model of a blow-up sex doll, the ashes 
falling off the end of his cigarette as he grunted, threatening to 
explode the doll before he finished.

He squeezed both his eyes shut to burn that image from his mind. 

He had to concentrate.  He wanted to regain control of this 
situation, regardless of whatever agreement he had made with the 
cold-hearted bastard.  Obviously his *partner* had one of his 
crazy plans going again, and those plans always cost him.  He 
squeezed his fake arm reflectively.  Damn that man! He would get 
his money and be rid of that old fool, once and for all!

He kept his voice bland.  "I'll contact Kenneth and tell him it's 
time to disappear."

The death skull in the shadows tipped forward, nodding at him.

As Krycek exited the small, dark office, he heard behind him, 
"I'll continue to monitor the situation."


3.
Mulder pulled the car up across the street from Bond's apartment 
building.  

"Why don't you watch his window?  I'll go in and arrest him," he 
said as they watched the young man maneuver his bicycle through 
the doorway.  

Tiff was worried already.  "I don't like that.  Let's call for 
backup, or let me follow you in."

Mulder shook his head.  "No backup."  

They got out of the car and as they watched traffic for a chance 
to cross the street, Tiff's palm caressed the gun at her side, 
reassuring herself with weapon's warmth and weight.  

He mused, "I guess you can come in.  The window doesn't look easy 
to get out of." 

They glanced at the grill covering Bond's low, narrow window, down 
at pavement level as they passed it on their way to the front 
door.  Mulder rang the manager's apartment to let them in.

Tiff hated apartment buildings in the afternoon.  They were too 
quiet, with just the occasional, muffled moans of a soap opera 
seeping from under a doorway.  Quiet gave no cover for a sneak 
attack.

They moved in unison to the short stairwell that led down to the 
basement apartments.  The light streaming in through a window at 
the end of the hall shone in their eyes, momentarily blinding 
them.  Tiff was spooked.

They took up positions on either side of Bond's apartment door.  
After a nod from her assured Mulder that she was ready, he rapped 
sharply on the door.

"Open up, Bond--FBI!"  Mulder's voice was tight and controlled.

Nothing.  Again, he pounded on the door. 

"Do you think he went through the window?" she whispered. 

He shook his head.  "I don't think so."

He moved to the front of the door and prepared himself to kick it 
in.  Tiff shook her head to stop him.  She reached out and tried 
the knob.  It turned in her hand.  They exchanged questioning 
glances.  She was really spooked now.

The door swung slowly open.  They both waited for a moment, their 
backs pressed against the wall outside the door.  Nothing.  Their 
eyes met and Mulder nodded wordlessly.  

He swung around the doorjamb, and Tiff held her breath as he 
ducked into the room.  Nothing.  She slipped around the door and 
ran right into Mulder's back.

As she peered over his shoulder, she saw Kenneth Bond in the 
middle of the room, sitting very still on a chair.  For a minute, 
she thought he was dead, and then she saw his eyes blink, slowly.

She noticed that Mulder seemed transfixed and had lowered his gun.  
Quickly, she moved around him and leveled her gun at Bond's head.  
This activated Mulder.

"Don't shoot him!"  He yelled in her ear.

Bond nodded and said calmly, "I don't want to hurt you."

Tiff could feel the tension coming off of Mulder in waves.  She 
was confused.  She motioned at Bond with her gun.  "Get up."

Bond remained in his chair for a moment and then seemed to make a 
decision.  He rose slowly, and began to walk towards them.  

Mulder yelled one last command.  "Don't shoot him, whatever 
happens!"  He had holstered his gun, and pushed her aside to block 
Bond's escape.

She gave a grunt of exasperation as she holstered her own weapon.  
Two of them, one skinny guy--this should be easy.

She wasn't thinking that two minutes later.  Bond had looked at 
them both with a cool contempt as they advanced on him.  First, he 
had planted his palms in Mulder's chest and had pushed him aside.  
Tiff was amazed at the distance Mulder's body had flown, but then 
she turned her attention to the business at hand.

She had planted both feet solidly beneath her and had twisted her 
body to bring a low swing of her right fist towards his solar 
plexus.  The blow connected, but there was no give to his flesh, 
no expulsion of air.

Instead, he backhanded her easily across the face, sending her 
reeling.  She caught a hip on a chair and allowed a moan of pain 
to escape.  Spitting out the mouthful of blood that had instantly 
accumulated, she jumped back into the battle.  

Mulder had grabbed Bond around the middle, trying to pin his arms 
down.  Tiff snapped out a hard, sharp jab to his nose, but Bond 
whipped his head back, slamming into Mulder's face, getting a 
brief yelp from her partner.

Bond elbowed Mulder's midsection and the man had to let go.  Bond 
advanced on her, and for the first time in her life, Tiff felt 
fear.  

Bond must have seen it, and a look of concern passed across his 
face.  This infuriated her for some reason, so she went for the 
old street-fighting standard, the lunge at the body, grabbing him 
around the middle and trying to wrestle him to the ground.  
Nothing happened.  

He continued towards the door, dragging her 165 pounds behind him.  
She felt ridiculous, and then her skull was caught on the 
doorjamb.  She saw stars, and had to let go.  She heard Mulder 
staggering past her in pursuit. 

She tried to call after him, to make him give up, but he was gone.  
She hauled herself to her feet and followed.  She found Mulder in 
the hall, limbs askew like a fallen puppet.  She crouched by him, 
but he motioned at the stairwell.  "Go!  Get him!"

She didn't care what he'd said, she drew her weapon and sprinted 
up the stairs.  As she burst through the door, she saw the flash 
of blond hair as Bond leapt into the back of a black van, license 
plate missing, naturally. 

She allowed herself a string of colorful curses and worked her way 
through the traffic to their car.  On the walkie-talkie, she 
called in an APB on the van, knowing it was useless.  Bond had 
escaped.


Skinner arrived to find the two of them picking through Bond's 
apartment for clues, occasionally stopping to sop up the dripping 
blood from their injuries.

"What happened here?!" he bellowed as he stared at her swollen, 
cut lip.  She cautioned him with a sharp gaze.  

"The suspect resisted arrest," she said dryly.  She noticed 
Skinner and Mulder's eyes meet across the room, and Mulder gave a 
very slight nod.  

She was furious.  "By the way, partner, boss: What the fuck was 
that thing, anyway?" she roared.

They both looked stunned and then Mulder played stupid.  "What do 
you mean?"

"That little boy tossed us aside like trash.  My cousin Ray-Ray 
from the PJs couldn't have taken that thing," she pointed out.

Skinner and Mulder looked confused, and then Mulder shrugged.  "It 
doesn't matter.  The thing is, he got away.  I'm back to square 
one."

Skinner steered the conversation in another direction, ignoring 
Tiff's imploring gaze.  "What have you found here?"

Mulder was frustrated.  "Zippo.  Nada.  Bubkus." 

Tiff had to agree.  "There's no sign of a life whatsoever.  But 
somehow I doubt that thing had the same needs as you and I."

Mulder pulled a neatly folded tee-shirt from the dirty clothes 
hamper, wrinkling his brow.  He lifted it to his swollen, bruised 
nose, and a look of resignation crossed his face.

"What is it?" Skinner asked.

Mulder shook his head.  "Krycek.  I'd know that stench anywhere.  
Don't ask me why a guy who's doing the Secret Operative Man act 
would bathe in Homme, but he does."

"Who's Krycek?" Tiff questioned, dropping the empty address book 
back down by the phone.

"A guy I've had the misfortune to smell a time or two.  Don't 
worry about it," Mulder said as he turned to throw the shirt back 
into the basket. 


4.
Scully's Apartment 
4:30 P.M.

Scully had left work early.  She was tired, her feet hurt, there 
were no interesting bodies in the drawers, and Mulder wasn't 
answering his cell phone.  It was going to be a long eight months.  
She was bored stiff already.

She had spent the last hour sorting through her closets, drawers 
and shelves, making room for Mulder's things.  She instantly 
regretted it.  It would make her appear a little eager if she 
flung open her closet's door and pointed to the area on the pole 
ready for his suits.  It would look as though she was desperate.

She decided to take a break.  She had just settled in a chair with 
a tall glass of cold iced tea when she heard a muffled thumping on 
the front door.  Curious, she got up and peered through the 
peephole.

Gasping in shock, she flung the door open.  He didn't appear as 
bad as he had through the distortion of the peephole, but Mulder's 
face did look as though he'd come in contact with a frying pan at 
some time during the day.

As he staggered past under the weight of a large box, she asked 
the obvious question.  "What happened?"

He dropped the box in the middle of the floor and threw himself in 
her chair.  Large, dark sweat-stains had formed under the arms of 
his blue tee shirt.  He pushed damp hair off his brow and leaned 
over to take a deep swallow from her glass of tea. 

Her brow furrowed in irritation as she watched him spit an ice-
cube back into the glass.  

He sighed dramatically and finally said, "We went to get Bond.  He 
turned out to be a clone with a nasty head-butt in his 
repertoire."

"Oh," She said as she propped herself up on the arm of the sofa.  
Feigning indifference, she asked, "So he got away?"

He gave her a withering glance, rendered comical by his faint 
raccoon markings.  "Yeah, he got away.  Tiff put up a good fight," 
he defended his new partner. 

Scully felt ashamed.  "Is she okay?" she asked.

He took another gulp of her tea and offered her the glass.  After 
a momentary hesitation, she accepted it and took a discreet sip. 
"She will be.  She's got a nasty split lip and a big bump on her 
head.  She can't seem to keep her cranium from getting cracked 
anymore than you could."  
 
She frowned at his use of the past tense and he hurried on.  "She 
wants to know more, but I'm stonewalling her."

She nodded.  "That's for the best." 

He hauled himself up from the chair and picked up the box again.  
She trailed after him fretfully as he staggered down the hall 
towards her bedroom, bumping into the walls, chipping the paint.

He dropped the box in the middle of the bedroom and turned to 
address her again.  "So we're officially out of leads."  
Stubbornly, he insisted, "I think we should get hypnotized.  We 
need to know where to find these guys."

She chewed on her lower lip, absentmindedly noticing that his body 
odor had turned from earthy to sour.  Slowly, she said, "Yes, I 
suppose you're right."

He clapped her on the shoulder.  "Great! Let me go get the rest of 
my things, before someone steals all my suits out of my backseat, 
and then I'll call Dr. Werber."

She called after his long figure as he hurried out of the room.  
"You don't have to worry.  This is a much better neighborhood than 
yours."


5.
FBI Headquarters 
July 8th, 11:30 A.M.

Skinner entered the office without knocking and Tiff glanced up, 
oddly irritated.  He scanned the room.  "Where's Mulder?"

"He had an errand to run," she answered carefully.

"Scully isn't on the job either," he said.

"I didn't realize she was still under your command," she whipped 
back at him.

He regarded her.  "You're spending too much time with him. You're 
starting to sound like him."

She knew he was pissed because he wasn't getting any, but he 
better start treating her a little better, or he wasn't ever going 
to get any again.

"Was there something I could help you with, sir?"  She might as 
well watch him squirm.  She made her gaze fix firmly onto the area 
four inches below his belt.  She let herself grin at the 
corresponding swelling behind his fly.

In a completely businesslike tone, he said, "Yes, as a matter of 
fact.  I was wondering if you could assist me in the supply room.  
I can't seem to find the glue sticks."

She contemplated him for a minute.  She had told herself she was 
going to hold firm to her convictions, but she rose from her chair 
anyway.  "I'm not sure sir, but perhaps I can assist you in your 
search."


She loved those big thighs of his; they gave him so much strength 
to lift, for example, her size fourteen body right off the floor 
as he drove into her.  She bent her knees and wrapped her legs 
around his thick torso up high, under his armpits.  She breathed 
through her open mouth, letting him knock the air out of her as 
her brain spasmed from the lack of oxygen.  She came with a hard 
grunt as he made his Bulldog snorts in her ear.

As they hastily tried to straighten their clothing to its original 
appearance, he began to question her.  "What's Mulder working on?"

This pulled her up short.  Was this what the quick, hard, 
delicious fuck was about?  Finding out what the hell Mulder was up 
to?  He didn't know either?  

She heard herself saying, "I don't know, sir. I just follow his 
instructions."

Skinner moved in close and caressed her full lower lip with his 
big callused thumb.  "What happened to Bulldog?"

"I'll start calling you that when you start acting like my Dog 
again, not some cop," she retorted as she stormed out, pushing his 
tie into her pants pocket.  That would keep him busy for a while.


~~*~~*~~*~~*~~


Chapter 9: Memories

1.
July 8th, 11:05 A.M.

Dr. Heitz Werber held the door open for Mulder and Scully to enter 
his office. 

"I'm so happy to see the two of you again," he said.  They both 
nodded self-consciously.

He motioned to the black sofa and they settled onto it.  Scully 
let her palm run along the smooth surface of the cushion.  This 
was good.  She always felt comfortable on a black leather couch.  
She let out the breath she hadn't realized she was holding.  Dr. 
Werber addressed them.

"So, Fox told me what happened, and how you want to explore 
the events.  Which one of you wants to go first?" he asked as he 
settled into his own chair.

They exchanged glances.  Mulder quickly said, "I think I should go 
first."  Scully was a little perturbed--he was protecting her 
again.

She nodded though and Dr. Werber shifted his chair until he was in 
front of Mulder. Quickly, the doctor reminded him of the 
procedure.

When Mulder was relaxed and calm, Werber began to ask him 
questions.  "Fox, concentrate.  You're back in Dothan, it's the 
9th of June."  Mulder nodded.  "You're in your motel room at The 
Roadside Inn.  You've eaten your dinner-- you're on the bed.  Now 
what?"

Mulder furrowed his brow as though he was trying to see something 
in the distance.  "I'm sleepy...The room is dim.  Scully's at the 
table, reading the report..."

"Yes," encouraged the doctor.

Mulder smiled as though a revelation had come to him.  "She's 
pretty."

Scully looked surprised, but the doctor gave her a reassuring 
smile.  "Yes, she is...What happens next?"

Mulder looked worried.  "It's dark."

"Are you asleep?" he was asked.

"No.  It's just dark," Mulder answered.

"Can you see anything at all?"

Mulder shook his head, frustrated.  

"All right, can you hear anything, smell anything?"

"There're voices, but I can't make out the words...I can smell..."  
He wrinkled his nose in disgust.  "It's Krycek."

Dr. Werber gave Scully a puzzled look, but she nodded.  "And 
smoke, cigarette smoke...*he* must be there too..."

Mulder began to pant with quick, shallow bursts.  Scully reached 
out 
to take his hand.  

Dr. Werber prompted, "What is happening now, Fox?"

Mulder's voice was faint.  "Someone, something is...touching me."

"Where?" The doctor asked as Scully tightened her fingers around 
Mulder's cold fingers.

Mulder lifted his free hand hesitantly, and pointed to his lap.  
"There." His voice cracked and he sounded as frightened as a 
little boy.

Scully shot Dr. Werber a worried look, but he was intent on 
Mulder.  "What are they doing?"

Mulder shook his head as though to shake off a nightmare.  "I 
don't know.  It hurts..." he protested.

Scully hissed at the doctor, "Stop this, dammit!"

He glanced at her, and shook his head 'no'.  

Mulder rambled on, "It hurts, it hurts..."  Tears were leaking 
between his closed lids.

Scully leapt to her feet, still clutching Mulder's hand.  "Stop 
this!"

The doctor rose to his feet too, and gripped her shoulder to 
silence her.  He murmured, "Let me start slow--"

"No, I want you to stop hurting him," she demanded.

Suddenly Mulder began to gasp and gurgle.  Realizing what was 
happening, Scully glanced around the room and quickly snatched up 
the wastepaper basket.  She was able to position it under Mulder's 
bent head just as he started to throw up. 

The action brought him out of the trance.  "Whaaa? What happened?" 
he asked after wiping his mouth on the handkerchief offered by the 
doctor.

"Do you remember anything?"  Doctor Werber asked as he took the 
basket from Scully's limp fingers and set it away from them.

Mulder shook his head as he wiped the tears from his face.  "No, 
not really.  It was all jumbled and dark."

Dr. Werber had called in a nurse, and she gave Mulder a glass of 
water and removed the wastepaper basket.  

Mulder had slowed his breathing to his normal rate, and Scully 
wiped his face with a damp towel the nurse had brought in.  

Scully was still furious.  She wanted to leave, now.  Mulder 
looked at her, concerned.  "I don't think you should do this," he 
said.

Suddenly, she changed her mind.  She wanted to know what they had 
done to him.  Perhaps the answer was locked in her memory.  "No, 
let's do it."

It took Dr. Werber half an hour to get Scully calm enough to have 
her in a trance.  Mulder never took his eyes from her now-placid 
face.  

The doctor started with the same questions.  "It's the night of 
the 9th..."  She nodded.  "You're at The Roadside Inn with your 
partner, Fox Mulder.  You've eaten dinner.  You're reviewing the 
report.  What do you see now?"

"Mulder."  Her voice was soft, but sure.

"What's he doing?" was the next question.

"He's fallen asleep, like he always does.  I have to wake him. 
Make him go to his room," she murmured and Mulder smiled at her 
chiding tone, even in a hypnotic state.

"I don't wanna, though..." she continued.

"What do you want to do?" The doctor's voice was soothing.

"I want to go to sleep too.  On my bed.  Next to him."  She 
sounded frightened of the prospect even in this relaxed condition 
and Mulder had to give a slightly bitter chuckle.

Dr. Werber steered her back to the task at hand.  "Does anyone 
come to the room?"

She furrowed her brow.  "No.  I must...I think I fell asleep.  
It's dark."

"Can you smell anything?"  She shook her head.  "Can you hear 
anything?"

She stayed silent for so long, Mulder thought she hadn't heard the 
question.  Dr. Werber remained still and waited.  

Finally, she shook her head.  "No. I can't make anything out.  I 
hear things.  I don't know what they are.  I smell...a hospital.  
That's all."  

Mulder chewed his lower lip in frustration.  

Suddenly, Scully's eyes shot open, but he could tell she was still 
in the trance.  Her voice sounded distant, as though she was 
calling to him from the bottom of a well.  "Someone's coming."

"Can you see them?"  Dr. Werber leaned closer to her, intent.

"Someone's coming," she repeated. 

"Can you see them?  How do you know?" he asked.

She seemed not to hear him, concentrating on the moment in her 
memory.  "I see..." she screwed her eyes shut.  "I see a hand, a 
white hand."

"Is someone touching you?" 

She shook her head violently.  "I don't know.  I can't move.  I 
can't feel my limbs.  I can see the hand."

"What is the hand doing?" 

"It has...It has a syringe.  It's gone." She cried a sudden, 
startled, animal sound.  Mulder jumped in his seat and grabbed her 
hand to cradle it in his grasp.

"Have you been stuck with the syringe?" the doctor asked.  

She clutched her lower abdomen over her right ovary.  "I think so.  
It hurts.  It burns."  She seemed to be intent on isolating the 
sensation.  

"Can you see anything else?" he pressed on, ignoring 
Mulder's pleading eyes.

She opened her eyes again and looked over at Mulder, but he could 
tell she did not see him.  "There's a white circle."

"Is it close to you?  A light perhaps?" suggested the doctor.

"It's close, it's getting closer."  In triumph, she said, "It's a 
face...It's Kenneth Bond."

Mulder gripped her hand tighter to reassure her.

She went on.  "He's leaning in...He's speaking..."

"Can you make out the words?" The doctor was intense in his 
questioning now, carried away by the experience.

She stopped herself just as she started to give a negative shake 
of her head.  "He says...he says...'I won't let them hurt you.'"  
She 
looked puzzled.

"Are you still in pain?" Werber returned to his original track.

Mulder became concerned.  Scully didn't speak, and sank back into 
the sofa, her head falling back into the cushion.

"Dr. Scully?" The doctor's tone showed his concern.

Scully's breathing suddenly became rapid and her body rigid.  
Mulder swung on the doctor.  "Bring her out, something's wrong!"

"Yes, of course," the doctor said as he reached out to grasp 
Scully's free hand.  "Dana, Dana, listen to me."

Scully suddenly took a great gasp of air, as though she was 
drowning, and went limp.  Dr. Werber lunged out of his chair to 
check her pulse.

Mulder had felt her cold hand go still and he swore he could feel 
the blood stop in her veins.  He helped the doctor hurriedly lower 
Scully to the floor.  Even as he saw the doctor place his ear to 
her chest, he knew she had stopped breathing. 

He adjusted her neck for artificial respiration to begin, and the 
two men labored silently for the excruciating minutes it 
took to revive her.  She gasped again, this time, back to life.  

Dr. Werber hauled his now rumpled form up off the floor and 
frantically reached for the phone.

"No!" Mulder barked out, as he gathered Scully's weak body against 
his.  She was slowly moving, as though she was trying to swim in 
molasses, and her could see her eyes were trying to focus and 
comprehend.  

He hissed out, "We don't want EMTs.  I'll take her to a doctor to 
be checked out.  She'll be fine."

Dr. Werber looked at him as though he'd lost his mind.  "I can't 
do that.  I have a license!"

Mulder decided to play hardball, even as he gently caressed 
Scully's head.  "You won't for long if I tell the 'truth' 
about this session.  Let me write you a check and we'll leave."

The doctor plopped himself in his chair and turned it away from 
the couple.  "I'll send you a bill."

Mulder carefully helped Scully to her feet, and was supporting 
her towards the door when the doctor's tired voice called after 
him.

"I think you and Dana were given a 'kill switch' of sorts, to 
stop any attempt to retrieve your true memories of the events of 
what happened to you.  I'm not sure how it was done, but from what 
you've told me of these individuals, I think it's possible.
I wouldn't trust any of what you remembered as the absolute 
truth."

Mulder merely nodded as the two of them slipped through the door.


He helped her into her seat in the car, slid behind the wheel, 
and then took a few moments to regain control of his breathing.

He thought she was still out of it until she spoke drowsily.  "I 
was back there."

"Where?" he asked.

"I was back in the tube.  I couldn't breathe.  That thing had to 
breathe for me.  And then I was free and you were there, again."

He turned and grinned at her as he started the car.  "Always." 

As he pulled the car out of the parking structure, he asked, "Do 
you think you should go the hospital?"

"I feel fine," she replied as she propped her head up on the 
window of the car.

Dryly, he responded, "I didn't ask that.  Is it your opinion as a 
physician that you should seek medical attention?"

She gave him a soft smile.  "Nah...I've suffered worse than dying 
for a few minutes."

He gripped the wheel until his knuckles showed white.  "I know.  
Do you feel up to a visit to our own personal crime lab?"

He'd piqued her curiosity, he could tell.  She smiled.  "You mean 
go to see the Lone Gun Men?"

He grinned, happy to have his partner back with him.  "No--better.  
When I moved out, I didn't see the point in trying to get out of 
my 
lease--I might need the apartment later." He hurried on when he 
saw the shadow cross her face.  "So I set up a center of sorts 
there, for Byers to be able to work in peace, away from the other 
two, on whatever scraps we manage to find."

"Good idea."  She rewarded him with a pat on the shoulder and he 
felt ridiculously proud.  

He took a long, slow route to his old apartment, keeping the 
interior of the car cooled against the oppressive heat and 
humidity outside.  He didn't pull up to his building until he was 
satisfied that her face had returned to its usual white peach 
tone. 

Mulder knocked on his own door, and this struck Scully as odd.  A 
moment passed and Mulder had his fist raised to rap again when the 
door was wrenched open. 

John Byers stood there in a state Scully rarely saw him in: 
disheveled.  He was down to his dress shirt, collar open, and it 
was wrinkled as though someone had wadded it up in a ball before 
he put it on.  His belt buckle was only on the first hole.  He 
looked surprised to see them, not a happy surprise.

"Mulder...Agent Scully...what are you doing here?" he squeaked 
out.

Mulder raised a brow to this question.  "We have some new 
information.  Thought we'd deliver it."

Byers said with obviously false enthusiasm, "Oh, good--well...come 
in."  He moved aside and swept his arm out as an invitation to 
enter. 

As soon as Scully moved into the room, she saw the source of 
his discomfort.

Anita was curled up on the black sofa like a half-grown kitten, 
loose-limbed and sleek.  Her downcast eyes shifted up to meet 
Scully's.  Scully gave her one quick shake of her head to show her 
disapproval.  All she got in return was a wrinkle of Anita's 
little freckled nose, capped with guilt-free dark sloe eyes.  

Byers was bumbling behind them.  "Uh, and Anita--that is, Dr. Mui 
is here.  Helping me.  She's been very helpful."

Mulder beat Scully to it, saying, with a leer she would have left 
out, 
"I bet she is."

Anita rose from the couch, smoothing her own disheveled, rumpled 
clothing, 
and casually said, "Yes, I took the afternoon off to come over and 
go over some details with John."  She steered the conversation 
away from the awkward scene they'd stumbled on.  "What's the 
latest?"

They all found somewhere to sit in the small room, which had been 
transformed.  The walls were now covered by push-pin boards, with 
neat rows of printouts tacked to them.  Two computers were set up 
on the desk, and other computer equipment lurked in the shadows.  
The blinds were firmly drawn. 

Mulder and Scully explained what little they could remember of 
their hypnosis, ending with Dr. Werber's warning.  Scully said, "I 
don't understand.  Perhaps they were extracting a sample of his 
sperm somehow...But why would they need to do that?"

Byers crossed his legs.  "It could be they just needed to test it 
to make sure it was viable."

Scully didn't look satisfied.  Slowly, she said, "True.  Or 
something else..."

Anita gave her a glass of heavily sweetened tea she had prepared.  
"Drink this.  I don't like your color," she said briskly as she 
sank back down on the couch next to Byers.  He shifted slightly 
away and this earned him a raised brow.  "If you're suggesting 
that they took sperm samples from Mulder to create embryos with, 
then why go through all this with the two of you?"

Scully shook her head in frustration.  "Too many pieces are 
still a mystery."

Mulder asked the doctor, "What about the injection they gave 
Scully?"

"I've been going over some journals and reports since our initial 
conversations.  I'm not an expert on infertility, that's not my 
specialty.  John suggested that the work being done with 
tissue regeneration may be the key."  Anita gave Byers a warm 
glance and he wiggled like a fish on a hook.  "Theoretically, in 
the future, it may be possible to repair damaged tissues with 
injections of fetal tissue.  He said that the people you suspect 
are responsible for this situation have advanced medical 
knowledge, 
true?"

Mulder and Scully nodded in unison.  "Well, perhaps it's a case of 
what the evil bastards took away, the evil bastards gave back," 
she finished. 

Scully grumbled, "I want to find them so we can thank them 
properly."

Byers spoke.  "Anita...Dr. Mui...has another thought."

Anita gave him another smile.  "Yes, John, thank you for reminding 
me.  The reason the two of you weren't merely robbed of your 
genetic material and dumped by the side of the road could be very 
simple.  Artificial fertilization is still only about 20% 
successful.  It could they were going with the method that is 
still the most successful--the ever-faithful woman's uterus."  She 
shrugged.

Scully found no reassurance.  "Where did the egg come from?  I 
still don't trust it."

Byers soothed her with his words.  "Through cloning technology, 
it's possible to take another woman's eggs and 'wash' the DNA out 
to be replaced with yours.  I'm sure that's what they did.  I'm 
sure this is your child." 

Mulder looked grateful, but Scully still wasn't convinced.  "We'll 
see when we get the DNA test back.  And there's the sonogram in 
eight weeks.  Why?   We still come back to, 'why create a child 
from us?'"

Everyone looked concerned, but Anita dismissed her worries.  "But 
there's no sense imagining the worst until we get those answers.  
You've got to take care of yourself, get rest, drink lots of 
water, eat more..."

Scully tuned her out.  She didn't understand.  None of them knew 
what this felt like, the constant fluttering of...something, a 
beating in time with her anxious heart.


2.
They arrived at her apartment, suddenly exhausted.  She could tell 
the day had been very draining to Mulder, although he wouldn't say 
anything to complain.  He lay himself out on her couch, curled up 
like a napping little boy and instantly fell asleep. 

She roamed the apartment, rearranging the knickknacks, doing a 
little light dusting, alphabetizing her CDs.  The light faded from 
the room, but she didn't turn on a lamp.

She thought about making some dinner, and rejected the idea.  Her 
stomach was in such a tight knot, there was no room for food.

Finally, she managed to push herself into a small area on the 
cushions that Mulder's frame wasn't covering, and snuggled in 
like a nut into its shell.  She wasn't comfortable and she 
didn't care.

Hours passed and she didn't sleep.  She found comfort in the 
steady deep breaths from Mulder, warming the back of her neck.  
She counted each one, committing it to memory like the notes of a 
symphony.  Just as dawn began to light the room, she slept.


~~*~~*~~*~~*~~


Chapter 10: Doors

1.
September 14th 
5:45 P.M.

For the third time that week, Scully got up on a ladder and dusted 
the upper shelves of her bookcases.  She didn't have to worry 
about Mulder chastising her.  He was away on assignment again.
  
Scully had moved past bored to lonely.  Technically, she was 
living with Mulder.  But he was as busy as he always was, 
so consequently, she never saw him.  

She missed him.  She hadn't realized what a habit his company was 
for her.  She was beginning to wonder if they had been in a 
romantic relationship already and simply hadn't realized it.

Her days were puttering by in a monotonous pattern.  Up in the 
morning, to work by nine, autopsies all morning, classes in the 
mid-afternoon, perhaps some consultations before she left for the 
day.

Then, home by five to stare at her walls until it was time to go 
to bed.  She found herself listening to old Aretha Franklin CDs a 
lot.  She seemed to find some solace in the intimate, blues- 
dripping words of the Queen of Soul.
  
It was another such evening.  Her tea cooled in the mug balanced 
on her knee, as her grandmother's clock ticked off the wasted 
minutes.  

She couldn't take it anymore.  She decided it was time to visit 
the new neighbors.  Pay a call as the welcome wagon, so to speak.  

Right after Mulder had moved in, the Finches, who had lived the 
building nearly as long as she had, had begun to complain about 
cockroaches.  Their apartment seemed to be the only one infested, 
and no amount of exterminator's gas could get rid of the insects.  

So the Finches had left, and a Richard Starkey had immediately 
rented the apartment.

At least that's what the card on his mailbox said.  Scully had yet 
to see him.  It was time to change that.  She hauled herself out 
of the couch, ran a quick hand through her limp hair, and strode 
purposefully out her door.

There was no answer to her sharp rap on the door across the hall.  
She waited patiently a moment and then pounded loudly.  Nothing.  

She put her mouth up to the crack of the door and bellowed,  
"Ringo Langly, open this door!  I know you're in there!"

There was another moment, and then the door opened a crack to 
reveal the sheepish gnome-like features of Frohike.  Apparently, 
Langly had decided to send their ringleader into the mouth of the 
lion first.
  
"Something I can help you with, Agent Scully?"

"Yeah, I'm bored.  You and Langly need to come over and keep me 
company."  Without waiting to see if they would agree, she turned 
and stalked back to her open doorway.

The two men followed her and stood in the middle of her living 
room, shifting nervously from foot to foot.  

Langly asked, "How did you know it was us?"

She answered with an exasperated explanation.  "I, like every 
other girl in America, went through my Beatles phase.  I know who 
the hell Richard Starkey is."

Langly blustered, "Mulder's gonna be pissed."  He shot Frohike 
an accusatory look.  Frohike shrugged his shoulders in reply.

"No, he's going to be too busy groveling to come after you," 
Scully said as she began rooting around in a drawer.

Frohike tried turning on the charm.  "He just wanted to make sure 
you were looked after.  I mean..."

Scully popped back up and pushed the hair off her face.  "You 
mean--in my condition?"

Frohike and Langly looked uncomfortable.  

She excused them.  "It isn't on a need-to-know basis or anything.  
I think you guys have earned our trust more than once."  She 
carried the board game she'd found in the bottom of the drawer 
over to the kitchen table.  "Now perform your assigned duties and 
come in here."

The two men trailed into the dining area, curious.  

Langly looked horrified.  "Scrabble?  On a board?  Don't you have 
the computer version?"

Scully went into the kitchen to fetch some drinks for the men.  "I 
prefer the tactile experience of feeling the tiles.  Live with 
it."

She returned to find the two men seated at the table, seemingly 
resigned to their fate.


She incorporated their presence into her new life pattern.  The 
gentle purr of the VW bus followed her to and from work.  Frohike 
brought home-cooked hot lunches to her office every afternoon, and 
she managed to appear grateful.  She was almost able to ignore the 
constant presence of the variety of their odd, nerdy little 
friends 
who followed her around when she went out shopping.  

Langly dusted the top shelves for her now.  And every evening the 
three of them gathered around the kitchen table for more board 
games to keep her occupied until her eyes burned and she could 
fall into bed, exhausted.

The only time they weren't by her side was when Mulder returned 
from his assignments.  But as much as she missed him, she didn't 
quite know what to do with him when he was there.  He reminded her 
of a very large, very clumsy, but painfully well-trained, St. 
Bernard.  

He sat at attention, but with his eyes bashfully downcast at all 
times as though he was waiting for her commands.  And he had a 
tendency to bump into her furniture.  

She'd never realized how small her apartment and possessions were 
until a much larger person was moving through them, sitting in a 
chair with his knees under his chin, or bending over to look in a 
mirror.

When he was in town, he would take over Frohike's job as chief 
cook and bottle washer, a role that shocked her, 'Kiss the Chef' 
apron notwithstanding.  He wasn't a particularly good cook, but 
he made up for it with his enthusiasm.  Her crockery suffered, but 
she was past the point of caring.  She spent her time trying to 
distract him from noticing how little she really did eat. 

It always seemed as though he didn't want to impose.  He kept a 
good twelve inches of space between their bodies when they were in 
bed.  She took to wearing his shirts to bed, and wrapped in the 
warmth and smell of his body, so that she felt as though he was 
holding her instead of gripping the edge of his side of the bed 
to keep himself from rolling to her.

He was using up his entire backlog of six years worth of 
apologies.  It got so that if she heard the words 'I'm sorry' come 
out of his mouth one more time, she was going to slap him. 


"I'm sorry."  The words wafted over her shoulder as she sat 
hunched over her bowl of bland cereal. She managed to control 
herself, telling herself she was merely suffering from a hormonal 
reaction.  

"About what?" she asked.

"Going out of town again," he mumbled through the piece of toast 
he'd shoved into his mouth.  She noticed he'd cut himself shaving 
and had a corner of toilet paper stuck to his chin.  The romance 
was dead, and it hadn't even begun.

"It's your job."  She choked slightly on the word 'your'.  She had 
an almost uncontrollable urge to stow away in his suitcase.  The 
pain of missing their work was unbearable.  

"My job is to take care of you," he dared to say.  She raised her 
eyes, shooting flames at his gentle face.  

The hurt in his eyes reproached her, and she dropped her face to 
her hands to calm herself.  She had to accept the possibility that 
she would not be able to do this alone.

"There'd be nothing for you to do here, anyway, except to sit 
here staring at me, and Frohike and Langly have that covered."  
She gave him a weak smile.

He fretted, "The sonogram's Friday.  I'll be back by Thursday, at 
the latest."

"Of course you will," she soothed him.  She pulled herself out of 
her chair, wondering why the less she did, the more tired she 
felt.  Her greatest accomplishment now was making sure her socks 
matched before leaving for work.

He picked up his suitcase and with hunched shoulders, shuffled to 
the doorway.  Instead of giving him his usual peck on the cheek, 
she pulled the toilet paper free from his wound, and went up on 
her tiptoes to lick the dried blood from his skin.  

Now it was his eyes turn to flame, only this fire was passionate.  
She shifted her gaze away and chose to ignore the large hand that 
lingered on her hip before slipping down to grasp the handle of 
his suitcase again.  


2.
St. Joseph, Missouri 
September 17th, 9 A.M.

Tiff watched Mulder pace the airport waiting area.  He had reached 
a fever pitch of anger, venting it on any airline personnel who 
unwittingly crossed his path and any airline representative he 
could reach on the phone.  He had foolishly tried to get snippy 
with her and she had knocked him back on his ass.  Now he kept to 
himself and avoided her questioning gaze.  

All she knew was this had started yesterday, when the case had 
dragged on into the evening.  Their suspect's confession had 
fallen apart.  Mulder had begun having whispered conversations on 
his cell-phone, each one becoming more agitated.  

He had worked through the night, pulling together the scraps of 
evidence with superhuman determination to find the actual 
perpetrator.  The morning had seen a new suspect booked but also 
the descent of a pouring rainstorm.  All flights were canceled 
until further notice.

She watched him pull the cell phone from his trench coat pocket 
again and speed dial a number.  Her curiosity overruled her 
decency and manners.  She got up painfully from the hard plastic 
chair and sidled up behind him to eavesdrop on the conversation.

"Scully--It's me."  His voice was low and full of pain.


Scully leaned back in her chair, listening to the latest report 
from Mulder.  She tried to reassure him.  "I don't want you taking 
risks to get here.  It's more important that you stay in one 
piece.  I can't lose you now."  She had to stop because the sudden 
lump in her throat had made it difficult to speak.  "I'll call 
you as soon as I have the results.  The minute."

There were no words from his end.  "Mulder?"

"Yeah--I'm here."  He sounded so defeated.  "What are you going to 
do if the fetus is--what are you going to do?"

She choked out, "I'll have an abortion."

"I don't want you to be alone with this.  Promise me you'll call 
your mother.  Don't go alone.  Promise me."  His voice sounded 
thin and distant on the crackling line.

She managed to swallow the lump.  "I promise."  Drowning in a wave 
of swirling emotions, she felt suddenly uninhibited.  "I love 
you."  She barely gave him time to respond in kind before she cut 
the line off.

She knew she couldn't call her mother.   


Two weeks ago she had opened her door, expecting one of the Gunmen 
with her dinner, only to find her mother, with a set, angry face.  
She had been avoiding her mother for weeks and now, with a sense 
of dread, she knew the game was up as her mother's eyes swept 
over her.  She hadn't thought she was showing yet, despite the 
tightening waistline on her pants, but there were things she was 
sure a mother would know.

When she had watched the fear and then the blankness of a sense of 
betrayal sweep across Maggie Scully's face, she knew she was 
right.  She had heard herself babbling, "Mom--I couldn't--I 
didn't want to put you in danger..."

Maggie Scully had gripped the doorjamb to keep herself upright.  
"Come inside, Mom.  Sit down."  Scully had led her shocked mother 
into the apartment.  She'd fussed over the silent woman, wanting 
and dreading her words at the same time.

She'd started speaking, slowly and carefully.  Scully cringed.  
She knew that tone from many a childhood dressing down.  "What's 
happened?"

"I was abducted again.  This time, They fixed the damage to my 
ovaries somehow.  We're not sure what happened--we won't know 
until some more tests are done."  She had so much she didn't want 
to share with her mother that she didn't know what to tell her.

Maggie had seen right through her.  With tight lips, she'd said, 
"Is this baby your own?"

Scully had to be honest.  "I don't know.  We won't know 
that until a DNA test can be performed on the fetus.  Until then, 
I wait."

Maggie had looked around the apartment.  "Where's Fox?"

Scully had to give her mother credit.  She was good.  "He's out of 
town, working."

"Is that safe?  What do these people hope to gain by doing this to 
you?" Maggie had pressed.

"I've got guards."  She'd decided not to tell her mother they were 
the Gunmen.  "We have no idea what They're up to this time.  I 
guess we'll find out eventually."

"What can I do to help?" her mother had asked.

Scully had been overcome by frustration.  "There isn't anything 
any of us can do but wait."

"And you're not good at that, are you?"  Her mother had looked at 
her sharply.  "Or asking for help and support?  You want to know 
what frightens me even more than what may be happening to you?"  
She didn't wait for Scully to respond.  "It's that you think you 
can keep something like this under control all on your own.  How 
many more times will you do something like this to our 
relationship before our life together is over?"

Scully had realized she deserved a reprimand, but it didn't make 
it hurt any less. 

When her mother had left promising support, Scully could 
see she was still holding back her anger at Scully's betrayal of 
her trust.  She had known her mother would come to peace with this 
eventually, but she didn't want to see the woman hurt any more.


She realized she couldn't ask her mother to come with her for the 
sonogram.  She couldn't expose her to what might be a horrible 
sight.  She put on her trench coat and picked up her purse.  It 
was time to go.

As she pulled her door shut behind her, the door across the hall 
opened.  Frohike peeked out.  "Mulder didn't get back?"

She knew that he knew Mulder wasn't back.  She played along 
anyway.  "No, he's trapped out of town by a storm.  I'm going 
alone."

"Not taking your mother?" Frohike asked.

She pulled her purse up onto her shoulder and avoided his 
searching gaze.  "No, I don't want to expose her to 
something...bad."  She shook her head to clear the images that 
leapt forward from the catalogue of six years of horrors.

Frohike suggested, "I could go with you.  I could stay in the 
waiting room, or...I wouldn't mind coming in with you--as a 
substitute for Mulder.  I did a tour in Vietnam.  I'm used 
to bad things."

Scully met his eyes and saw warmth and strength there.  All she 
could find to say was, "Thank you.  I'd appreciate that."


If Scully's attendant surprised Anita, she didn't show it.  
Frohike was cold towards the doctor, however, and Scully shot him 
a questioning look as she crawled up on the table to wait for the 
sonogram to begin.

Frohike pulled a chair up beside her and settled his squat form on 
it.  With a surprising gentleness, he lifted one of her hands from 
where it was clawing at the paper cover on the table and nestled 
it between his two hands.  

She noticed he was wearing his half-finger gloves, a black wool 
pair.  Good.  Her cold hand wouldn't chill him.

She wondered about his attitude concerning Dr. Mui and then 
realized she hadn't ever seen Byers at the apartment across the 
hall.  She decided to probe.  It would take her mind off of the 
coming procedure.

"Byers has been so much help in our work on this case," she said.

Frohike grunted down deep in his barrel chest.  She continued, 
feeling slightly ridiculous, like she was gossiping in the girl's 
bathroom at school.  "He seems to have moved in over at Mulder's 
apartment."

Frohike couldn't hold back.  "That's for sure.  He's behind on his 
columns for the newsletter--"

Scully interrupted.  "I hope we haven't distracted him from his 
work."

He reassured her, giving her hand a squeeze.  "It's not you guys-- 
that work is important--it's--"

Anita reentered the exam room, and Frohike stopped, but his 
burning glance over at the doctor finished his sentence.  Scully 
felt a giggle rising in her chest and nearly choked on the 
sensation.  It would be obscene to laugh right now.

Anita took her other hand and began to quietly reassure her, 
seeming to be able to ignore the dark, accusing eyes under thick 
brows glaring at her over Scully's gown-draped form.  "This will 
only take a few minutes to get ready."

Scully nodded, and then tuned out everything else she said.  No 
words could reassure her, only the image of a healthy human fetus 
would do that.  She had to ask the question.  "If it's bad--you 
could do an abortion today?"

"Of course, Dana.  But let's not jump ahead of ourselves.  You 
have a tendency to do that," Anita scolded her as she pushed 
Scully's gown up and smeared jelly on her abdomen. 

Scully chose to ignore the comment and turned her head to stare 
intently at the screen.  The image flickered and dark shadows 
appeared.  A form became recognizable.  Frohike burst out, "It's a 
baby!"

Anita confirmed his statement.  "So it would seem."  She patted 
Scully's shoulder and kept moving the wand.

Scully realized she couldn't allow herself to feel relief.  This 
was only the first step.  She noticed her hand in Frohike's grip 
was aching and glanced over at him.  His eyes were misted over as 
he stared at the floating fetus.  "It's a baby," he said again, 
this time in a whisper.

She felt twice as bad.  It wouldn't be just their dreams shattered 
if this didn't turn out to be their child.  Everyone seemed to be 
investing a part of themselves in this creation.  


3.
9:15 P.M.

Mulder thought he would never be as happy to see anything as he 
was to see Scully's door.  Although she had called him with the 
good news, it did nothing to alleviate his overwhelming need to be 
with her right now.

When he let himself into the apartment, all the lights were off 
except for a floor lamp, glowing dimly by the couch.  As he 
crept forward, he could see Scully curled up under an afghan, 
asleep. 

As he approached her, he must have startled her.  Suddenly, she 
reared up, tossed her head back to clear the hair from her eyes 
and leveled her pistol at him.  Quickly he dropped his bag and 
raised his hands, but she had already lowered the gun.  She shook 
her head as though clearing a nightmare away as she carefully 
placed the weapon on the table beside her.

"I'm sorry," he said, which earned him a hard look.  He was 
trying to ignore her moodiness.  The pregnancy books he kept 
hidden in his desk at work said this was normal, but frankly it 
was becoming annoying.

She struggled out from under the throw.  "Have you eaten?  Let me 
get you something."

He settled a hand on her shoulder.  "Don't worry about it. Do you 
have the video?"

"It's in the VCR already," she said as she pulled herself into a 
corner of the sofa, rearranging the throw over her legs.

Loosening his tie with one hand, he pulled the TV cart closer 
to the couch.  He turned on the set and started the tape with 
a shaking hand.  This was it.  He would be able to see for 
himself, reassure himself right now.  He sank to the floor in 
front of the TV, propping himself up on the couch. 

The film flickered and then a shape began to appear out in the 
grainy darkness.  He couldn't make anything of it.  He rubbed his 
eyes in frustration.  

He was startled by the light touch of Scully's hand on his 
shoulder as she pushed herself off the couch to join him on the 
floor.  Her slender white finger began to trace the shape on the 
screen, her calm voice creating a reality out of his confusion.

"Here's the head--and an arm.  See, the arm is bent..."  He 
nodded, 
overwhelmed.  "The legs--now the fetus is shifting around, the 
buttocks--"

He stopped her, stabbing at the screen with a shaking finger.  
"What's that thing?"

Dryly, she answered, "The genitalia--a penis." 

Numbly, he responded.  "Oh...does that mean it's a boy?"

She sucked her lips into her mouth to control her mirth in the 
face of his obvious befuddlement.  "That's generally what a penis 
indicates.  However, we'll have to wait for the DNA test to give 
us final conformation."  Her face darkened at the reminder.  "The 
DNA test will tell us everything we want to know."

He tried to divert her.  "I'm so sorry I wasn't here today.  I 
would have loved to see this with you."

She pulled herself up off the floor.  "It went all right.  Of 
course, Anita was there, and Frohike came along."

He couldn't control his jealousy.  "Frohike?"

She ruffled his hair as she plopped back down on the sofa.  "Yes. 
He was a great comfort."

Mulder stabbed the stop button on the VCR.  The joy of the vision 
of his son was lost.  "I'm going to quit the X-files, the FBI if I 
have to.  I need to stay close to you.  Today proved that.  I 
can't expect a couple of computer nerds to look after you."

She exploded.  "What?  Dammit, Mulder!  The Gunmen are doing fine, 
I feel perfectly safe, and in case you've forgotten, I'm a trained 
Federal Agent, perfectly capable of looking after myself!"

He ran his fingers through his hair in frustration.  "I know, I 
know--"

"I wonder if you do.  I've had to give up my career, work I 
really, really love--" she spit at him.  

She continued, "If this is our child, I'll have to abandon that 
career anyway, and that wasn't my choice.  But you don't care-- 
you seem to be fitting me for a little white apron and string of 
pearls.  That's not what I want.  I don't want this to be 
happening," she muttered, pulling the afghan up under her chin.

He twisted around to look at her with astonishment.  "You can 
manage to kill the happiness in every gain we've achieved during 
this experience, can't you?  What's it going to take?  What if 
this is our son, but he's born less than perfect anyway?  What 
will you do then?"

Her eyes were huge and dark on her white face.  "What are you 
trying to say?"

He couldn't stop himself.  "Your love always seems to have 
conditions attached.  I can live with that, but how can a baby?"

Her head rolled back on the sofa cushions.  Her voice was 
distant.  "I can't take this anymore--"

He hauled himself up off the floor with a jerk as his knees 
screamed in protest.  Damned body, falling apart--he stormed back 
to the door; now it was mocking him.

He was through the door and had slammed it behind him before 
Scully had a chance to stop him.  Now what?  He looked at the 
door across the hall with resignation and raised a hand to knock 
on it.  It swung open before he could strike it.

Langly looked out at him, shaking his head.  "We could hear you 
guys in here.  Man, I'm surprised someone didn't call the cops on 
the two of you."

Mulder brushed past him.  "Thank you for the support, bud.  How 
much beer do you guys have?"

Frohike came out of the kitchen carrying three bottles of beer.  
"Damn boy, you're a bastard."  His tone was affectionate, however, 
and he slapped Mulder on the back after he handed him his drink.

Mulder trailed after then into the dark and cluttered living room.  
He looked around with approval.  This was more like it.  No Navajo 
white walls, or crisp linens.  He noticed a monitor showing her 
blank and accusing front door.  He threw himself down on the sofa 
and turned his eyes away from the image.

All three men jumped when Byers opened the front door.  His brow 
wrinkled with confusion as he joined them in the living room.  
"What's wrong with you guys?  What are you doing here, Mulder?"

Frohike was snide.  "A more important question might be, what are 
you doing here?  Don't you have some research to conduct?"

Byers said stiffly, "I came over to deliver my column for the 
newsletter and I wanted to apologize for its lateness.  I've been 
distracted lately."

Langly handed Byers his half-drunk beer and headed towards the 
kitchen.  "So she threw you out on your ass?"

After glancing at the warm bottle with resignation, Byers settled 
on the edge of a chair.  "I don't want to talk about it."

Mulder nodded in agreement.


4.
When the phone rang, Scully realized she had been sitting on the 
sofa the whole time Mulder had been gone, staring unseeing at the 
snowy TV screen.  She snatched the receiver up, expecting Mulder 
but being surprised to hear Anita's voice instead.  This irritated 
her, though she couldn't say why.

"How's it going?" Anita asked.

What could she say?  "Fine."

"I was really pleased with the sonogram today.  I have a really 
good feeling about this," Anita's voice held all the cheerfulness 
she possessed. 

"Yeah," Scully said listlessly.

Anita rambled on with more pleasantries for a while longer, and 
then arrived at the point that Scully suspected was the original 
intention of the call.

"You've known John awhile now, right?" Anita asked.

Scully felt dread fill her.  "Yeah--"

"You think you know him well?" she went on.
  
Scully hedged.  "Well, I've known him a few years, but it isn't 
like we hang out or anything..."  She suddenly wondered how close 
to 
anyone she was anymore.  How much more depressing would this 
evening get?

Anita hit her with a bombshell.  "Do you think John's a virgin?"

"What!?" Scully gasped.

"You heard me." Anita was brisk.  "Well?"

Scully was firm with a sharp tone.  "I really wouldn't know.  
That's none of my business.  What I'm sure of is that I would hate 
to see him hurt by anyone."

"What are you saying?"  Scully heard her own tone echoed in the 
other woman's voice, and she didn't like the hurt she heard there.

"I'm saying, what does it matter if he is?  He's a wonderful 
person.  That's what counts," she said.

"True," Anita mused.  "It's just so...frightening--I mean, where 
do 
I begin?"

Scully found some humor in this ridiculous situation.  "Look at 
the positive.  If it's true, you get to train him from the ground 
up-- so to speak."

Anita squealed and Scully was suddenly glad to have the 
distraction of this conversation.  "True! Oh, Dana, I'm glad I 
called you, I was beside myself."

Scully was overcome with exhaustion.  "Anita, if you don't mind, I 
really need to get to bed."

The doctor came out.  "Of course, and are you drinking enough 
water?"

Scully managed to eventually get Anita off the phone and wandered 
into her bedroom.  Once she was in bed however, she found herself 
unable to sleep, her ears trained for the sound of Mulder's 
return. 

She was almost asleep when his bulky shape was outlined in her 
bedroom door.  She smelled the beer on him.  

She was overwhelmed with the memory of those few dark years when 
she was a young girl, doing chores around the house and gagging 
at the odor of stale beer on her parents' sheets.  She would 
always 
connect that smell with the sound of her mother's soft sobs on 
late 
nights spent waiting, wanting her father to return and dreading it 
at the same time.
     
She heard her voice, sharp and shrill.  "Take a shower.  I don't 
want you in my bed smelling like that."

The dark shape, bent in the act of undressing, wavered on one leg, 
and then moved to the bathroom without a word.  

Grateful, she closed her eyes again.  In thirty more days, when 
they were able to have a DNA test on the fetus, all this 
uncertainty would be cleared away, one way or another.


~~*~~*~~*~~*~~


Chapter 11: Ignition

1.
The Factory 
October 18th, 7:45 A.M.

Krycek found Kenneth waiting for him in the shadows between the 
glowing green cylinders outside the offices.  He stopped for a 
moment to examine the young man unnoticed.  

The ghostly glowing light emanating from the tanks danced across 
his face, and Krycek was reminded of the first time that he'd seen 
him floating nude in the ooze.  Krycek had crouched down to stare 
at his perfect features, willing his eyes to open, like Sleeping 
Beauty.  An empty smile crossed his face at the thought. 

"Do you and Kirk have everything in the van?" he asked.

The blond head turned and bobbed obediently.  

"Good," he said with malice glee.  "It's time to pick up the 
merchandise.  What about the hospital?  Everything ready there?"

This time Kenneth spoke.  Tipping his head towards the closed 
office door, he said, "What about the gentleman?"

Krycek looked at him coolly.  "He's left me in charge of this 
project."

The young man paused before he spoke again, and then seemed to 
choose his words carefully.  "As you say, sir."

"Yes I do," Krycek said cheerfully as he grabbed Kenneth's arm and 
pulled him down the corridor of tubes.  "Let's get going.  Today 
is going to be a busy day."


2.
Fairfax Hospital 
9:15 A.M.

Mulder paced nervously in Anita's office, talking to Byers on 
his cell-phone.  

"When are you going to get here?" 

"Actually, I think I can be of more use working on 
the current data.  I've started to develop a theory--"

Mulder cut in sharply.  "What?"

"I don't want to get your hopes up at this point, not without more 
proof," Byers answered primly.

Mulder sighed with exasperation.  "Byers--" he warned.

Byers remained firm.  "The theory is in a very preliminary stage, 
I need to examine all the data.  And it relates to the situation 
only if things go well with the DNA collection today.  It won't 
make any difference if things don't fall in place on your end.  As 
it is, I have to go over to the Starkey apartment right now.  I 
seem to have left an important piece of data there."

"So I can reach you there?" 

"Yes.  And I want to wish you and Agent Scully luck today," Byers 
said.

"You too," Mulder replied.  He hung up just as Scully and Anita 
entered the office.


3.
Listening to his tap on Mulder's cell phone in his van on the 
street in front of the hospital, Krycek cursed quietly as the call 
between Byers and Mulder ended.  Kenneth and Kirk sat impassively, 
waiting for his commands. 

"Kirk, keep listening to the trace on this line of Mulder's.  I 
don't want little Mr. Science to tell him anything that may ruin 
our plans," he hissed.

"Yes, sir," Kirk replied as he adjusted the settings on the 
scanners.

He glanced over at Kenneth's blank face.  "Are you ready to 
rumble?"

"Sir?"  The single word in an insolent tone came out of the 
pouting mouth. 

He wondered if the young man was baiting him.  He moved in very 
close to the chiseled features.  "Are you with me on this, 
Kenneth?" he hissed.

He saw Kenneth's eyes shift from his to meet Kirk's uplifted gaze.  
"Of course, sir," he answered smoothly.

Krycek leaned back, suddenly hating the slightly antiseptic odor 
that seemed to cling to the skin of the clones.  Sharply, he 
barked, "Let's go then."    


4.
Mulder concentrated very hard to understand the words coming out 
of Anita's mouth.  He was sure it was solely for his benefit.  He 
knew Scully would have read everything on the procedure.  He 
hadn't been able to make himself do so, and now he regretted it.  

Anita was wasting time with this when she could be starting.  He 
forced himself to hold Scully's hand with a light grip and 
concentrate.

"I'll be doing a PUBS--that means I'll insert a needle into the 
umbilical cord and extract a blood sample.  There is a risk to the 
fetus, as with any invasive procedure..." Anita shifted her eyes 
from Mulder to Scully.  

Scully nodded slightly, so Anita continued.  "The procedure is 
simple, if I can get the needle into the cord.  This may take a 
few tries.  We'll take our time and remain calm.  I understand 
this is very important--"

Scully interrupted.  "Can we start?"  Mulder realized a crack was 
showing in her calm manner. 

Anita nodded.  "Of course."  The three of them stood up together 
and moved a shuffling single file line towards the door to the 
examination room.

The procedure went smoothly, with all the predictability of a 
training exercise.  Mulder knew what his role was.  He sat quietly 
by Scully's side, letting the creases of her palm now become 
familiar patterns under his fingers.  He found himself tracing her 
life-line lightly with a fingertip, as though he could draw the 
length out by his own sheer will. 

With Scully lying on her back, he was able to see the slight 
swelling to her belly and he had to force himself to watch as the 
needle was inserted into it.  She watched too.  The blood seemed 
so dark as it filled the vials.  

Anita spoke the first words heard since they entered the room.  
"I'll hurry."

Scully chuckled, an odd sound, as though she had a mouthful of 
dry crackers.  "Do."

Scully dressed slowly, seemingly trying to draw the activity out 
to fill the silence.  Mulder waited for her to speak because he 
couldn't think of a single thing to say.  Apparently, neither 
could she, so she pulled a chair up to join him, and they linked 
hands again.  

Anita popped her head into the room, calling them back into her 
office.  They rose in unison from their chairs, and he found his 
hand resting in the small of her back, leading her ahead of him.  
He was surprised how quickly the time had passed, considering they 
had done nothing but stare at the odd medical diagrams on the 
wall.

They gathered around the lab results.  Mulder's brow furrowed at 
the smudges on the DNA bands.  Anita's voice sounded faint above 
the rushing of his blood in his head.  

She began, "I don't recognize these patterns..."

Scully's low tone was like the thumping of a drum.  "I do.  I'll 
need the abortion."

Mulder gripped the edge of the desk and leaned on it to keep 
himself from falling.  He blinked his eyes rapidly to clear his 
vision and look at the report again.  "Maybe..."

Anita broke the news to him.  "There are signs of a massive number 
of anomalies.  And there are these other patterns which I've never 
seen in human DNA..."

Scully interrupted.  "Now.  I want you to do it now."

Mulder turned to look at her set face.  He swallowed all the 
thousands of protests that were rising up from his gut, and the 
bile burned on the way back down his throat.

He met her eyes and held her gaze.  "Anita, Scully wants to do 
this right now.  Can it be done?" 

Anita carefully suggested, "Perhaps you should wait a day or two.  
Having the procedure today will be very draining to Dana."

Scully's voice was gentle but with the subtle insistence of a 
Southern belle.  "No, Anita, I would prefer to be done with this 
whole business--today."   

Anita relented.  "Of course.  Let me arrange things now, quickly."  
She left the room to give them some privacy.

Mulder quickly pulled out his cell phone, taking the coward's 
refuge in a familiar activity.


"Davis here."

"Tiff, it's Mulder.  Come to Fairfax Hospital.  I think that the 
suspects, Kenneth Bond and Alex Krycek may appear," he said.

Her voice crackled, irritated.  "Where are you going to be?  What 
does this Krycek look like?"

"Pull his file, you'll find a picture.  I'll be at the hospital, 
but I'll have my phone off.  I'm leaving this duty up to you."

Exasperated, she asked, "And what do I do if I see them?"

Mulder spat out, "Shoot them on sight."  He disconnected before 
she could respond.  He could feel the reproach in Scully's gaze, 
but he couldn't trust himself to look at her. 


5.
Starkey Apartment 
11:00 A.M.
 
Byers looked up from the paperwork he'd been scanning when Frohike 
entered the apartment.  The little man sneered at him and said, 
"What're you doing here?"

Byers took in a breath to maintain his patience.  "I have work to 
do here.  I think I may be getting close to resolving this 
mystery."

Frohike was immediately interested.  "What is it?"

Byers moved to the phone.  "I'll need to double-check my data when 
the latest test results come back today."

Frohike's eyes narrowed to slits as he observed the tidy man from 
under his bushy eyebrows.  "You're loving this, aren't you?"

Byers rested his hand on the phone receiver.  "What?"  

"The chance to play the hero, even if you're just wearing a three 
piece suit instead of a pair of tights and a cape," Frohike 
suggested.

Byers picked up the receiver.  "I don't know what you mean."  He 
dialed Mulder's cell number.  

His brow creased.  "The voice mail is on--I hope things are going 
all right..."  He waited for a beep.  "Agent Mulder, this is John 
Byers.  Please call me right away.  I'm very interested in seeing 
the DNA results."  


6.
Back in his van, Krycek listened to Byers' words on the scanner, 
chewing his lower lip.  He ordered Kirk, "Erase that message, 
Damnit!"

The two young men seemed to wait with limitless patience while he 
thought furiously.  "I can't risk one of those trolls getting the 
information to Mulder and Scully.  I'll have to go take care of 
them myself.  Kenneth?"  

He turned and looked into the clear, pale eyes of Bond.  "I'm 
trusting you to pick up the merchandise.  Can I do that?"

"Of course, sir," was his mechanical answer.

Krycek slid open the door of the van and paused for a moment 
uncertainly.  Finally, he hopped out and got into a waiting car.  
He twisted his head to watch the young man now crouched in the 
doorway of the van as the car sped away.   


7.
The elevator doors opened.  Anita, Scully, and Mulder emerged and 
began to slowly walk down the hall.  The sign on the entrance of 
the ward read, 'Labor and Delivery'.

Anita said, "I'm sorry.  This is the ward where the procedure is 
normally performed.  It's usually considered better for the women 
to feel as though they've given birth to their child--we could try 
to procure another room elsewhere..."

"No, that's all right."  Scully seemed calm.

Anita hurried them past the reception desk to enter a room.  They 
were in the hallway long enough for Mulder to notice the brightly 
colored murals on the walls, of storks with pink and blue bundles 
in their beaks.  He heard the faint cry of newborn babies and saw 
several heavily pregnant women pacing the halls. 

It was all enough to cause a crushing weight to descend onto his 
chest, and he had to concentrate to keep himself from 
hyperventilating in an effort to breathe.

He had to remain in control for Scully, even though she seemed as 
calm as always.  Scully undressed again.  Anita waited patiently 
as Mulder helped her up on the bed.  

"I'm going to giving you a painkiller.  Then we'll wait about 
twenty minutes for it to take effect and I'll give you the Pitocin 
to begin contractions."

Realizing that Mulder probably didn't know what was going to 
happen again, Anita turned to him.  "This is the same medication 
that we give to women who are past their due date.  It will cause 
contractions to begin.  As this is Dana's first pregnancy it will 
take longer than it would take a woman who has already given 
birth."  She faltered.  "I'm sorry...this may only take several 
hours, but it could take several days, just like a regular birth."

Mulder was afraid to take Scully's hand, for fear he would crush 
the fragile bones.  His voice sounded shaky to his ears.  "Will 
there be pain?"

Anita soothed him.  "She won't be in pain.  I'll make sure of 
that."

Scully was abrupt. "Hey, I'm here."

Both Anita and Mulder instantly reached to touch her and she 
shrunk back on the mattress, suddenly tiny.  "I'm sorry, Scully, I 
just don't want to see you in pain."  In the face of everything 
that had happened to her recently, he realized how ridiculous 
the statement sounded as soon as the words left his mouth.

Scully asked Anita in a businesslike tone, "You've set up the 
proper disposal techniques for the fetus per my suggestions?"

Anita stroked Scully's arm gently.  "Yes, honey, I've 
taken care of it.  I don't want you to worry about that."

Fortunately, Anita's pager went off so she didn't see the burning 
look Scully gave her as she reached for the phone.  

Anita turned back from checking her message, distressed.  "I'm 
sorry.  There's an emergency.  I don't know..."

Scully cut her off.  "Don't worry.  A nurse can begin 
administering the Pitocin.  It doesn't matter."

Anita leaned in and gave her a kiss on the cheek.  "I'll be back 
as soon as I can.  You know what?"

Mulder watched Scully force her eyes up to look at the doctor.  
"What?"

Anita choked the words out.  "You're the bravest person I've ever 
known."

Scully didn't seem to know what to say to that, and Mulder could 
only nod.  Anita squeezed his shoulder as she turned to leave, and 
then they were alone.

Mulder pulled his chair up as close as he could to the bed.

Scully lay back on the pillows and gave out a long, shattering 
sigh.  It was the first sign she'd shown him that suggested she 
wasn't perfectly calm.

Her voice was as strong as ever when she spoke.  "It isn't as 
though we're aborting our child.  We're simply disposing of 
mutated tissue."

He had to agree.  He had to support her.  He nodded slowly, so the 
tears trapped at the edge of his eyelids wouldn't be jarred loose.

She was right; it wasn't their child that was dying today.  Their 
child had never existed.  But their dreams were dying and he was 
sure he was going to lose her as well.

Her voice continued, a swelling drone, like a swarm of bees coming 
to sting him.  "Don't worry about me.  I've seen an abortion 
before."

He cleared his throat and tried to match her flat tone.  "Yes, 
I've seen films too."

He noticed she had begun to tremble slightly.  He took her hand 
again, and it was cold.  He rubbed it lightly, hoping to restore 
the circulation.

"Not films.  I was there.  Melissa, my sister, had to have an 
abortion.  I went with her."  The words came out in gasps as 
Scully stared at the ceiling.

Mulder was surprised.  "When was this?"

Scully seemed to have to concentrate to come up with the answer.  
"Uh...she was twenty and so I was...I had just turned eighteen."

He tried to keep the shock from his voice.  "Oh--I mean, to be so 
young and go with her..."

Scully burst out, "My sister had to kill her baby!  She couldn't 
go alone.  We couldn't tell our parents--it would have killed 
them..."

He tried to calm her, reaching out to smooth the hair clinging to 
her sweaty brow.  "That was good of you to go with her--"

Scully rambled, "I had to be the strong one...I always have to be 
the strong one...she needed me..."

He leaned in and laid his head on the pillow beside her.  She 
still stared up at the ceiling. He whispered in her ear as though 
the room was full of people.  "You don't have to be strong today.  
I can be strong for you."  He cursed himself and his false bravado 
when his traitorous tears began to fall.

He watched, fascinated, as a single tear slipped out of the corner 
of her eye.  He reached out to gently stroke it away, and all the 
others that followed.

"I wasn't strong.  I was a coward.  Mom found out and she was 
furious with Missy.  They were never close again because of it.  
But Missy never told her that I was there--she always wanted me to 
be the good girl..."  She started to struggle up off the bed.  
Wildly, she said, "I gotta call Mom.  I gotta tell Mom, now."

"No, no--please, Dana!"  This got her attention, and she finally 
looked at him.  He pushed her back down on the bed.  "Not today. 
Tomorrow.  Later.  Not now."

She seemed to be absorbed into the mattress.  Her flat voice 
started again.  "That's why I wanted Emily to be Missy's child, 
more than I could ever make myself want her to be mine.  I grew to 
accept the fact that she was my genetic child, my responsibility, 
but I wanted her to be Missy's little girl so much.  You know what 
I mean?"

"I understand," Mulder managed to say. "You're a very generous 
person." 

Scully choked on an empty laugh.  "I don't know about that.  I 
don't know if I could have ever cared enough, because of what she 
was."

He curled his arm around her head and stroked her neck.  Her skin 
had become papery in the dry air of the room.  "You're too tough 
on yourself."

There was no reproach in her voice as she replied, "You said 
the same about me after the sonogram."

He damned himself to hell and back a few times as she gasped on 
harsh breath after harsh breath through chapped, pale lips. 

A throat being cleared drew their attention.  A nurse stood in the 
doorway, and Mulder could see a cluster of cheerful men behind her 
in the hall, slapping a new father on the back in congratulations.

The nurse nodded to them, as though answering the question that 
hung in the air.


8.
Tiff strode down the hallway in the bowels of the hospital, 
cursing first herself for being a fool, then Walter Skinner for 
being a bastard, and finally Fox Mulder for waking up that 
morning.  She'd seen no sign of the suspects and doubted she 
would.  

Her cell-phone rang, its sharp cry bouncing off the walls.  
"Yeah?" she bellowed into the phone, expecting Mulder.

It wasn't him.  A flat, emotionless voice said, "Agent Davis, 
proceed immediately to Labor and Delivery to find Dana Scully in 
Room 10.  Stop her from having the abortion."  Tiff gasped at the 
word, but the voice didn't stop.  "Hurry!" It urged her.  She 
started running, the phone still pressed to her ear.  "Tell her 
the tests are wrong. And if you don't get there in time--" For the 
first time, the voice faltered.  "Tell her they'll pay for what 
they've done--they'll pay." The line went dead.

Tiff allowed herself the one moment of complete confusion and then 
went into action.  She grabbed a passing orderly, slamming him 
against the wall.

"What floor is Labor and Delivery on?" she barked.

"Three," he garbled out.  She dropped her grip on him and scanned 
the hall for the entrance to the stairwell.

Three floors, no problem.  She dove through the door, her long 
legs loping up the stairs four at a time, and her arm grabbing 
the rail to pull her higher, faster.  She didn't allow herself to 
think of anything but keeping her balance.


~~*~~*~~*~~*~~


Chapter 12: Believe

1.
Starkey Residence 
October 18th, 12:15 P.M.


Frohike tried to peek over Byers' shoulder as he shuffled the 
papers into a file.  "Good news?"

Byers fussed, "I won't know until I see the report from the test 
at the hospital.  Why haven't they called me back?"

Frohike shrugged.  "I'm going out to get some lunch.  You want
anything?"

"I suppose.  Chinese?"  At Frohike's nod, Byers said, "I'll have 
Kung Pao chicken with extra peanuts."

After the little man left, Byers decided to lie down in the 
bedroom until he returned.  This might be the only peace he'd have 
the rest of the day.


He must have dozed off accidentally, but something woke him.  It 
wasn't a sound, but an unsettling feeling.  Unsure, he crept 
through the doorway to the dim front room.

A man was standing at the desk, gathering up his reports.  His 
leather coat caught the reflection from the desk lamp.  He turned 
as though he had been expecting Byers.

Byers noticed a small object sitting on the desk beside the man's 
stiffly held left arm.  He recognized it as a US Army CE-17 
incineration device.  Only after absorbing this information did he 
raise his eyes to meet the man's gaze.

The man smiled slightly.  "You must be John Byers.  Allow me to 
introduce myself.  I'm Alex Krycek."

Byers let out a sigh.  "I see."  Frohike had armed all of them, 
and had insisted that they practice daily.  Byers didn't have 
particularly good aim, and had fallen behind in his target 
practice. 

He was sure the man could easily outshoot him, but Frohike had 
said the person who got off the first shot was usually the one who 
came out ahead.  And he had the element of surprise.

He flipped his jacket back to yank the pistol free from the hip 
holster and did allow himself the moment of satisfaction at the 
look of shock that crossed Krycek's face.

He heard him snap, "You little bitch!" and his heart dropped as he 
saw Krycek whip his own gun out smoothly.  He started firing 
blindly.


2.
Labor and Delivery Ward

Tiff burst through the swinging doors into the ward, scanning the 
hall for room 10.  With her pistol in one hand and her 
identification in another, she pushed the babbling masses of 
personnel aside.

She slammed the door to the room open and all the figures in it 
froze.  Scully lay in a hospital bed, Mulder holding her left 
hand.  On her right side, a nurse was preparing to push down the 
plunger of a syringe whose needle was inserted into the IV tube 
connected to Scully's hand.  

Tiff pointed her gun at the nurse and roared, "Freeze!"

As she watched in horror, the nurse gasped and with what seemed to 
be an automatic action, pushed down the plunger on the syringe.

Scully wrenched the IV needle out of the back of her hand before 
the medication could be delivered into her system.  Blood spurted 
out of her vein, but she just pressed the bed sheet down on the 
back of her hand and briskly began questioning Tiff.  "What's 
happening?"

Tiff had to lean against the wall to calm her racing heart.  She 
gasped, "I got a call.  A man said you were having an abortion, 
something about the tests being wrong."

Mulder's hand settled on his own pistol and his eyes shifted to 
the frightened looking nurse.  "Who was it?"

Tiff shook her head.  "I don't know.  Male, sounded white, sounded 
young."

Anita burst into the room, startling everyone again, and gaining 
herself two guns trained on her head.  "What the fuck is going 
on?!"

Scully was struggling out of the bed, but the painkiller had taken 
its full effect and she had to hold herself up on the rail to 
stand.  "Someone is claiming the test was false.  We have to test 
another sample.  This may be a ruse."

Anita looked around at the collection of drawn faces.  "All right, 
let's go get the blood sample I held aside for John.  But I was 
there while the blood was tested..."

Grimly, Mulder said, "Tiff, go to the lab and check things out.  I 
don't want to leave Scully."

"Of course," Tiff said as she hurried from the room.

Scully began to pull her clothes on with all the coordination of a 
drunk.  Mulder tried to help her, allowing himself a chuckle or 
two and the first prickling feeling of hope.

They proceeded to the lab and found Tiff there with several 
security guards.  She greeted them with the news.  "The lab tech, 
one Jake Murphy?" She looked to Anita for conformation and got a 
nod.  "He was found dead, broken neck, in the supply closet down 
the hall.  I don't think they wanted to pay him."

Mulder scanned the room.  "Is it safe to use this lab?"

Anita rubbed her eyes with frustration.  "I guess so.  I was in 
the room, guys--he must have palmed a tainted sample.  I can't 
imagine they would mess with all the equipment for something like 
this."

Scully had plopped down on a stool, woozy, but her eyes were 
bright with excitement.  "Let's do it.  I want to see what they 
didn't want us to know."

Tiff left to deal with the dead body, but the remaining three 
gathered around the new results.   

Anita announced the words the other two were too overwhelmed to 
voice.  "Using your DNA samples for comparison, it appears that 
the fetus is a perfectly normal human male, the genetic child 
of Fox Mulder and Dana Scully."

Mulder felt as drugged as Scully.  He moved behind her on her 
stool, and swooped down to envelop her with his long arms, 
nestling his nose into the crook of her neck.  "Hey, Mommy--" he 
whispered in her ear.

She gave out a little gasp of a sob, and he was sorry he'd made 
her cry.  They had both cried too much this day.  He tipped her 
head up with a fingertip, and smiled down at her oddly inverted 
features.  Sure enough, a single tear had escaped her glistening 
eyes.  He carefully kissed it away.

Anita said, "I think the two of you have had a long day.  Why 
don't you go home, get some rest and try to absorb all of this 
tomorrow."

Mulder cleared his voice and spoke.  "Good idea.  Let's get out of 
here before the police want to question us.  We gotta find out 
what Byers is up to as well."

Anita just rolled her eyes, but kissed their cheeks as she pushed 
them out the door.


3.
"We'll have to get a house, with a yard, and a big tree for a 
swing--"  Mulder was babbling as he steered the car carefully 
through traffic, but Scully remained silent.

Her body was still trying to overcome the effects of the 
narcotics and the shock of the events of the day.  She felt loose 
and boneless.  But for the first time in many weeks, she didn't 
feel as though dark glasses was obscuring her vision.

"We'll need a lawn mower.  Do you have a lawn mower?" Mulder 
asked.

She raised an eyebrow, but then decided to humor him.  "No, 
Mulder, I don't have a lawn mower."

He didn't seem to hear the smile in her voice and continued 
seriously, "Okay, then we'll have to get one.  I don't 
like the environmental damage caused by the use of a gas-powered 
motor.  I guess I would have to decide if I have the energy for a 
push mower, or if I should go electric."

As she pulled one of his hands loose from the steering wheel to 
grip it between her palms, Scully realized Mulder was behaving in 
a way that she would never have imagined: Like some long-legged 
heron, he was carefully constructing a nest for her and their egg.  

She pressed a kiss to the back of his hand and innocently said, 
"I'm sure we can find something else to do with your excess energy 
on the weekends."

As soon as the words were out of her mouth, and she saw his eyes 
shift in her direction, she realized her statement sounded 
provocative.  Suddenly, she didn't care.  Perhaps she had meant it 
the way it sounded. 

He kept his eyes firmly on the road, his free hand gripping the 
steering wheel tightly as he kept the car's speed a prudent five 
miles an hour under the speed limit. 

But the hand under her mouth trembled slightly and she could feel 
sweat form on the palm. She kept her lips pressed to his skin and 
swore she could feel the blood beat faster in the tiny veins close 
to its surface.

As she let her lips slide across the fine hairs on the broad, warm 
back of his hand, biting his knuckle lightly on her journey to his 
fingers, he trundled onward.  "I'm not opposed to lawn gnomes, 
either.  Or would you prefer pink flamingos?  Anyway--that's not 
important--"  

She bit down on his finger, relishing the feeling of the firm, 
small muscles between her teeth.  He was breathing quickly now.  
"Three bedrooms or four?  I suppose we should go with four to be 
safe--"

"Uh-huh..." she breathed onto his skin, feeling as though she 
should participate somewhat in the conversation.  The tip of her 
tongue flicked out to play with the end of his middle finger.

He gasped out, "And Berber carpet, I think it's better than shag--
"

The scream of sirens coming up behind their car interrupted their 
separate trains of thought, and Mulder carefully steered the 
vehicle to the curb to let the fire truck pass.  As he pulled back 
into traffic, he continued, "We need everything don't we?  Dishes, 
furniture, a car, oh my god," he finally allowed himself to look 
at Scully, his eyes panic-filled.  She tried to look serious, but 
it was difficult with the end of his middle finger in her mouth.  
"We need a car, hell, we need two cars!"

She decided he needed to calm down.  She drew his finger all the 
way into her mouth, sucking lightly, absorbing his salty taste.  
Her tongue pressed his digit up against the roof of her mouth, and 
he moaned, finally.

She grinned around his finger as she twisted her body to lean back 
against the door.  She enjoyed watching his face as he tried 
valiantly to keep his attention on his driving while she 
ministered to his hot flesh.  

She liked this.  She liked forgetting about everything but the 
feeling and taste of his skin.  She was floating free from her 
body for a few minutes, away from the problem held within it.

Mulder might think everything was now reduced to an endless list-- 
beginning with finding financing for a mortgage and ending with 
deciding minivan versus SUV.  She had a shorter but more urgent 
list.  What was the purpose of this child?  Why had They wanted 
him dead?  When would They try again?  

For now though, she only wanted to live in this car, have their 
whole world exist within the four doors and the blood swirling in 
their three bodies.  

Mulder pulled the car over again, this time for an ambulance.  He 
didn't rejoin traffic, but leaned over, yanking his finger from 
her mouth with an audible pop.  She widened her eyes in an attempt 
to look shocked, but had her mouth open and waiting for his 
lunging mouth.  

They met over the armrest between the seats, straining against 
their seatbelts, and their mouths tore at each other until her 
lips felt raw.  Scully pulled away first and now she was the one 
gasping.  She whispered, "Let's go home."

Mulder couldn't seem to answer verbally, but an odd gulping sound 
came out of his throat.  Nodding like a loose-necked Chihuahua, he 
forced his eyes back onto the road, and turned the car back into 
the traffic.  


4.
They found out where the emergency vehicles had been rushing.  
Scully's apartment building was in flames.  

Mulder pulled the car up as close as he could, and they hurried 
towards the police barriers.  Frohike was up on his toes, 
straining to see around the wall of bodies.  A bag of take-out 
food dangled from one gloved hand. 

"Frohike!"  Scully reached him first, and grabbed his shoulder. 

He turned to face her, and his face was dark with soot, rivulets 
created by tears running into his beard.  He sobbed out, "John-- 
they can't find John."

Scully pulled the grimy little man into her arms and looked at 
Mulder with fear-filled eyes over his shoulder.  

Mulder joined them, wrapping his arms around both their bodies.  
He tipped his head back to stare up at the building engulfed by 
flames.  

Today they had won a battle, but the war was just beginning.



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