From: Sheryl Nantus <xfdragon@zoominternet.net>
Date: Mon, 4 Mar 2002 15:21:12 -0500
Subject: NEW: Dragons in A Bottle (1/5) by Sheryl Martin/Nantus
Source: atxc

Summary: She's back, She's bad...She's Canadian! And trouble abounds! Yep, a
plot as well... go figure!
Rating: Story, Case File, Good Stuff Happening Here, MSR - PG 13 - A wee bit
of swearing, btw...
Disclaimer: Not mine. Pre-Season 8; No Mulder abduction; no pregnancy. All
fine and dandy in MY world.
Archive: Anywhere, anytime - just let me know!
E-Mail: xfdragon@zoominternet.net


Dragons in A Bottle (1/5)
By Sheryl Nantus

"So how's married life treating you?" Dana Scully punched the elevator
button hard, almost chipping a nail.

"Can't complain. Warm man in my bed every night." The redhead standing
beside her let loose with a wide grin. "And how's your bed these nights,
eh?"

"That... is under negotiation." A slow burn crept over her face as she faced
the elevator doors, not daring to turn around. "Don't be too pushy or I'll
tell my mother to visit again."

"Argh." Jackie St. George put her hands over her heart in mock pain. "Your
mother makes Martha Stewart look like a cavewoman. I still haven't opened
that huge book 'cause I'm not worried about starching the curtains or
planting an herb garden. But..." She grinned even wider. "Has there at least
been an official 'date' yet?"

The doors slid open, sending a cool draft shooting into the warm car.
Wrapping her arms around her Scully trotted towards the basement office.
"What's going on here? I know we're trying to save money, but..." Her
fingers fumbled with the huge keychain as she forced the key into the door.
"If that man left the window open again..."

A frosty wind ripped through the pair as the door swung open. Jackie let out
a low whistle. "Oh, yah..."

"I'll crank up the heat if you can grab the window." Scully moved quickly to
the thermostat behind Mulder's desk. "I can't believe he forgot it at this
time of year..."

"Uh, Dana..."

"I mean, it's December and there's six inches of snow outside..."

"Dana..."

"I swear, that man is going to forget his brains somewhere... well, what's
left of them..."

"SCULLY!"

The shout brought the petite redhead away from the thermostat, rubbing her
arms quickly. "What?"

Perched precariously atop the overturned trashcan, St. George jerked a thumb
at the small square that served as a window. "I think it's not all Mulder's
fault..."

Scully stared at the stiff fingers clutching the thin windowpane. Gesturing
for the Canadian to step down, she climbed up to see a body laying just
outside of the window, the outstretched arm wedged under the window. A
slight breeze blew a handful of snow in over the two women.

"Gotta love the security here." Jackie forced a smile onto her face. "Next
thing you know they'll be letting me park for free."

*********

"Well, this is an interesting day." Deputy Director Kersh looked down at his
desk, flipping the pages of the open folder. "I go out for a cup of coffee
and I find out that we have dead bodies in the basement."

"Well, not technically IN the basement." Fox Mulder rubbed at a thin line of
stubble on his chin; stifling a yawn.

"Agent Mulder, there's all sorts of dead things in the basement on an
ongoing basis." Kersh's eyes narrowed. "I'm glad you decided to join us so
quickly."

"Well, I was having this dream about Bigfoot..." He began with a cheerful
lilt in his voice, quickly silenced by a glare from Assistant Director
Skinner who was standing to his far left. Behind him a low chuckle came from
one of the two women - which one he couldn't say for sure.

"The security tapes don't show anyone climbing the fence and gaining access
to the lower 'alley' that surrounds the building. No alarms were set off."
Kersh continued, his eyes hard and unblinking.

"I'm not impressed."

"Excuse me?" His eyeballs drilled past Mulder to the unfamiliar woman
standing beside Scully. "What did you say?"

"I said 'I'm not impressed'." Stepping past the two agents St. George waved
a hand at the window behind the flustered Deputy Director. "I used to set up
security systems and there's no system that can't be broken. And from what
I've seen, the FBI has more of an open-door policy than your average brothel
in Nevada."

Blinking wildly the Director glanced down at his papers. "You're St.
George." A sneer crossed his face. "I believe you have no status in this
building other than as a visitor."

"Good catch, Sparky." Her hands dove into the pockets of her worn combat
jacket as she smiled. "Mind you, that hasn't stopped a whole lot of
'visitors' from raising Cain all over theplace, yes?"

"I think you should leave now. This is an internal matter that has nothing
to do with you. We have your statement on file..."

"That's curious since no one asked for it." A sly smile sent a red flush to
Kersh's rounded face. "I wouldn't be as concerned about me being around as I
would be about a murdered man trying to claw his way into the X-Files
office."

"Can we assume it's murder?" Mulder rubbed his eye with the palm of his
hand. "I don't think there's been an autopsy done yet."

"Funny way of committing suicide." St. George chuckled. "But I'll leave you
to the tender ministerations of Mr. Kersh here while I go get a real cup of
tea at the Hard Rock Caf around the corner." She glanced at Kersh. "Don't
bother to call security - I can find my own way out."

Striding past the speechless Deputy Director the Canadian left the room.
Regaining his -speech quickly, the tall African-American rapped the top of
his desk with his knuckles. "I don't even want to hear a rumor that she's
doing anything on this case!" His eyes narrowed. "Because there is no
case..."

"Oh..." Mulder said quietly in a stage whisper to Scully. "This is going to
be a long day."

*********

"You know, I gotta get the receipe for this Capt Crunch Chicken..." The
Canadian licked her fingers as the two agents sat down beside her. "I have
lunch on hold for us - knew you'd be here as soon as Skinner got his blood
pressure down." Lifting her hand she waved at the waitress.

"Well, you can't blame him for being rather... irate." Scully let a soft
smile slip out. "Kersh was a little less than thrilled after you pulled that
stunt."

"Oh, like suddenly I'm the bad guy?" St. George laughed as Mulder tapped the
menu, indicating his order to the waiting woman. "But in the end, it all
comes down to a dead man trying to get into your office. Supposedly."

"I'm almost afraid to ask." Mulder rubbed his reddened eyes again. "What did
you do?"

"Me? Moi?"

"No, the guy at the hot dog stand. Of course you." He grinned. "You got
something, don't you?"

Reaching into her coat pocket the redhead withdrew a small plastic evidence
bag containing what appeared to be a small matchbook. "On the file cabinet
under where the hand got through the window."

Taking the clear bag from her Mulder held it up to the light. "Mulder -
FBI", he read quietly as Scully gave her order. "It's handwritten but neat,
so obviously it wasn't done as he was dying." He glanced at the Canadian.
"This is evidence."

"No kidding. But I found it first."

"And removed it from the building before Kersh had the presence of mind to
have you stopped and searched."

"Ah, Mulder... you could almost be Canadian if you tried really, really
hard."

"And you..." He wagged a long slender finger at Scully. "You were in on it
as well."

His partner reached over, expertly snagging a piece of chicken; dipping it
in the sauce before popping it daintily into her mouth. "My mother didn't
raise idiots. There was a reason why this man didn't come in the front door
or mail it to us."

"And you figured that Kersh wouldn't let you walk out with any information
that he didn't know." Mulder smiled. "Not bad..."

"Well, considering it's kinda majorly pointing to you, Fibbie..." The
Canadian shrugged. "Let's just assume that you're not a suspect for the time
being, okay?"

"Works for me. Besides, it's now a D.C. case."

"Eh?"

"True blue Canadian. Kersh announced that since it was apparently a homeless
man and had nothing to do with the FBI that it was being passed onto
Homicide."

"Where it'll grow cold faster than the body did." St. George took a sip of
her beer.

"Should we tell Skinner? About the note, I mean." Scully paused as a large
grilled chicken salad appeared in front of her. "After all..."

"Scully..." Mulder poked at his rare slab of meat. "I'm tired. I filed
reports for ten hours before going home before being called back in. All I'm
thinking about right now is eating this meat and going to bed."

St. George opened her mouth to speak, but closed it quickly as Scully's
full-intensity glare shot across the table directly at her.

*********

"Okay, the name's Reginald Hawthorne the Third." St. George looked up from
her laptop. "Really."

Taking a sip from her mug of tea, Scully looked down at her own small
screen. The two women had set up on her large wooden kitchen table; finally
occupying enough space to justify its original purchase.

"Where are you getting that?"

"D.C. Police. Fingerprints were on file as a missing person."

"I don't have clearance to get in there. I'm still looking around the FBI
database to see if they forwarded anything."

"I have connections." The Canadian drained her own mug. "There's nothing
like a P.I. license to make you plenty of friends on both sides of the
fence."

"I really don't want to know." The redhead continued tapping on her keyboard
as the woman headed for the kitchen and the ever-present warm teapot. "But
the autopsy report should be due in..." Her well manicured nails danced a
jig. "Now."

"Oooh... I can't get in there. Nor would I want to." Dropping three heaping
teaspoons of sugar into her mug St. George reached for the teapot. "Anything
worth waking Mulder up for?"

Scully frowned. "Not really..." Tap-tap. "Prelimary examination shows no
obvious cause of death. No bullet holes; no ligature marks... bloodwork's
not back yet."

"Tell me, what age do they have on our fellow?" Taking a sip of the sweet
mixture the woman walked behind Scully, glancing at the screen.

"Well, at a guess..." She brought up the standard autopsy pictures. "I'd say
in his fifties, maybe even sixties." Her head swiveled. "Why?"

"Because Reggie boy was only twenty-one when he disappeared a year ago from
his home in New Hampshire." Cupping the mug in both hands the Canadian
nodded towards the thick grey bearded man on the laptop screen. "They say
that fingerprints don't lie, but..."

Scully let her breath out slowly. "It's time to get Mulder."

"I'll wait here." St. George chuckled. "I'm waiting for a phone call from
Darryl."

"Darryl?" Pushing her chair back Scully reached for the near-empty mug
nearby.

"Security guard at Hoover Central. He was going to tell me what and who and
when the body got tossed into that moat."

"Why would he do that?" Walking into the kitchen she put her mug into the
sink. "And what makes you think he's not going to be first telling this to
D.C. and Kersh?"

"Oh, he'll be telling them the same thing." Sitting down in front of her
laptop again Jackie cupped her mug in both hands. "But he wants me to run a
check on the guy his daughter's dating, so..."

"I really don't want to know this." The redhead waved one hand in the air as
she walked towards the bedroom. "I really don't..."

Mulder lay sprawled across the queen-sized bed; the thick afghan wrapped
around him in a colorful coccoon. Tentatively she touched his shoulder.
"Mulder..."

"Harraf..." Rolling onto his back he licked his lips, keeping his eyes
closed. "Scarraffed."

"Mulder..." She tapped the edge of his nose lightly. "We have something
rather... interesting here."

Another swipe of tongue on lip. "Barraffademmm..."

Scully paused for a second, then leaned forward. Flicking her tongue over
the tip of his nose, she smiled mischeviously. "Not exactly as good as the
hand in warm water trick, but..."

His eyes shot open, a wide grin covering his face. "Well, some of the
results are the same..."

*******

"He's what?" Rubbing his eyes wearily the tall dark-haired man stared again
at the computer screen. "This can't be him..." His long fingers wrapped
themselves around the hot strong coffee handed to him the second he had
entered the room.

"Wrong, O-Fibbie-Man." St. George tapped the laptop. "Same birthdate; same
everything. Somehow this guy managed to pack on the years faster than you
pack away Ma Scully's pot roast."

"Any news from your contact?" Scully frowned as she spun the screen around
to face her.

"Ah... yes..." St. George pursed her lips for a second before continuing.
"It seems that there is no record or tape of Reggie attempting to enter the
building. In fact, there's nothing to show that he ever attempted to contact
the FBI before his arrival at your doorstep - so to speak."

"How did he get down there?" Scully spoke first, seeing Mulder's nose diving
into the coffee mug again. "That's a solid twenty foot drop. Not to mention
getting over the perimeter fence and the thick hedges just behind them."

"Your guess is as good as mine." Jackie shrugged. "Seems that the camera
that would be monitoring your corner of the moat somehow... malfunctioned."

"Funny how that happens when we're involved." Mulder chuckled. "So either he
climbed down and fell..."

"Or he was thrown down and died somehow while trying to get to us." The
redhead looked at her partner. "If he was murdered why would he have your
name written on a note in his hand?"

"Not a note. A matchbook." He picked up the slender plastic bag, turning it
over in his hand. "Want to pay a visit to The Bovine Sex Club?"

"Why do I think I'll leave this part of my job out when I have my next
meeting with the INS?" St. George snickered as she began to shut down her
computer.

*********

"What?" Scully cupped one hand over her ear as she stepped out of the car,
the cold wind biting at her exposed face. "Yes, I understand. Thank you."
Slipping the cel phone back into her jacket pocket she frowned at them.
"Seems that our mystery man died from literally old age. His hip was
shattered; along with his legs."

"Intentionally?" Mulder tucked his hands inside his leather jacket.

"No - ostereoporoisis." Scully shook her head. "They broke before he hit the
ground. I think it's safe to assume that he climbed down and then he
collapsed."

"And died of..." St. George looked up at the barricaded front door and
window of the nightclub. "I used to have nightmares about working in places
like this..."

"A blood clot to the brain. Again, probably old age. The coroner's sending
me a copy of the report for courtesy's sake, but he's stymied on this one.
He just..." She waved a hand in the frigid air. "Died of natural causes."

"With my name in his cold hard fingers." Mulder scowled as he surveyed the
nightclub. "Think that they're trying to keep out the fun crowd?"

Scully rapped her knuckles on the hard wooden planks crisscrossing the
window, careful to avoid the outwardly pointed and sharp nails. "I don't
think they do Happy Hour. I think they do Happy Month."

Taking ahold of the thick brass handle the Canadian tugged the door open.
"Ah, but do they have Guiness?"

As Mulder stepped inside the brightly-lit bar he smiled widely. "I think
they have everything here we'd want."

Scully blinked rapidly, trying to accustom her eyes to the well-illuminated
large room. "This... is different..."

Suddenly a large man appeared behind them, his leather vest straining to
hold in his expansive chest. "May I help you?"

"Uh..." Mulder jerked a thumb towards the bar. "Just want a beer."

"Club rules say that no one stays unless they got leather." The bear-like
growl brought a small smile to Scully's face.

"Leather?" Mulder's eyebrows rose. "As in, wearing?"

"As in - anything." The bearded man leaned in on the trio. "Club rules..."

"Ah..." Scully's hand dipped inside her jacket, bringing up her badge. "It's
not a whip, but it has the same effect on some people..." Quickly Mulder and
St. George followed her lead, the Canadian discreetly hiding her private
investigator's badge behind Mulder's own leather folder.

"Good enough." The bouncer moved off, giving a toothy grin. "Enjoy."

"You know, I get the feeling we're not the first people to use that as an
answer in here." Scully rapped her knuckles on the bar, drawing the
attention of the bartender from the far end.

"What can I get for you ladies... and fellow?" The middle-aged man sported
short pink hair with blue streaks, the thick tongue piercing hardly
affecting his speech.

Mulder pulled out an autopsy photo of Hawthorne. "Ever see this man in
here?"

He looked at it intently, then shook his head. "I can't say that I recall.
We don't get a lot of older people in here - I'd remember him."
"How about him?" Scully placed another photo atop Mulder's.

"Oh, yeah. He was in here a few weeks ago, trolling for money." Adeptly
three glasses of water appeared atop the bar in front of the three agents.
"I remember him because we had to keep tossing him out for bothering the
girls."

"So he was broke?" Mulder looked down at the much-younger missing person
file photo of Hawthorne.

"Well, I don't know how broke - he kept finding money for parties. He'd come
here and beg for cab fare to the latest rave before we tossed him." Rubbing
his hands with a towel, the bartender continued. "We don't pander to any of
that crap in here; but you know how kids are. We don't even let them put up
posters but they get the word around."

Withdrawing the evidence bag from a pocket, Mulder showed it to the man.
"This, I assume, is a matchbook from here?"

"Yep." Reaching down under the bar he came up with a handful of identical
matchbooks. "We love to advertise."

"Remember who he was last seen with?" Scully took a sip of the cold water.
"I know it's been awhile, but..."

"Sure."

"Who?" St. George jumped in.

"Andrea Jones. She's the local rave guru; knows everything about everyone
and anything happening in the area." He leaned in, lowering his voice. "And
she's been busted three times for selling Ecstacy."

"And she's still on the street?" The Canadian blurted out.

He shrugged. "Hey, I don't make the rules - you guys do." A pause. "Look, I
don't care about what they do outside the club. I'm half owner and I want to
stay open. A.J. just comes in to tell them where to spend their money when
they leave here. I don't mind losing her patronage, so to speak."

"When does Ms Jones make an appearance?" Scully pressed forward.

"She's here most nights around midnight or so - before then is too early for
her; she's a late night person." He smiled broadly. "But I think if you come
on back, you better dress a bit more... casual."

St. George glanced at her worn combat jacket. "Time to dig out the leathers,
Scully..."

The shift from the bright club lights to the evening dusk made the trio
flinch as they exited the club only to find three uniformed D.C. policemen
standing nearby. St. George sighed loudly.

"Did you not pay your parking fines again, Mulder?"

Ignoring her he strode boldly towards the cops, intercepted by yet another
man, this one obviously an undercover man. Jerking his thumb towards his
unguarded car he gestured for the two women to join them.

Apprehensively Mulder leaned on the side of the car. "Let me guess - D.C.
wants us to go away, right?"

"Detective Sam Adams." The blond man grinned widely. "And yes, I know all
the jokes." He nodded politely to the women. "Agent Mulder, I assume. And
Agent Scully. And..."

"St. George." The Canadian offered her hand. "I'm just a useful tool of the
government."

Scully tried not to laugh as Adams shook St. George's hand; noting the
amount of stress on both their parts to outcrush each other. As they
separated Adams gave an appreciative nod.

"I was told that you were here regarding our rather interesting suicide."

"Suicide?" Mulder frowned. "Is that the official verdict?"

"Well, the prelim reports are saying that there's no evidence of an assault
and no sign that it was anything more than a misadventure." Adams scuffed a
small stack of snow with one foot. "Now, I don't mind if you want to poke
around. No skin off my nose. But we've been watching this club for a long
while working on various cases and I'd hate to have you destroy it all."

"Doesn't anyone care about the fact that his physical age wasn't consistent
with the autopsy results?" Scully interrupted quickly, her voice less than
amicable. "He was only twenty-one years old!"

"Mistakes happen, Agent Scully." Adams sighed loudly, watching his breath
drift away from them in wispy clouds. "Someone enters the wrong data and
suddenly instead of 21 he's 51. Or the name was typed wrong. Either way,
it's none of my concern." He stared at Mulder. "But the cases that are still
active are. Don't mess up our work, Agent Mulder. I'd hate to have to report
this to your superiors."

"Yep, they might just have to take their heads out of their..." St. George
broke off her sentence at Mulder's upraised hand.

"We won't get involved in anything that would jepoardize any of your cases,
Detective Adams. Really." He smiled broadly. "After all, the relationship
between our departments is so... good that I'd hate to ruin it." Pushing his
hands down into his trenchcoat pockets Mulder began to walk towards the car;
stepping around the uniformed men as he opened the driver's door. "Have a
good evening."

"Yowza." St. George rubbed her hands together briskly as she got into the
back seat. "Nice guy, shame about the face. And attitude. And name."

"They seem pretty eager to not have us visit the club again." Scully
gestured at an open spot in the traffic. As Mulder pulled out she waved at
the policemen returning to their squad cars.

"Okay..." He exhaled slowly, the edges of his mouth tugging upwards. "So
what sort of leather clothing do you have, Scully?"

***********




Leo McGarry (The West Wing) : "Act as if ye have faith and faith shall be
given to you. Put it another way, fake it till you make it."
Scully: "People live with cancer. They carry on, and so will I. You know
I`ve got things to finish, to prove to myself, to my family, but for my own
reasons."


Dragons in A Bottle (2/5)
By Sheryl Nantus

"Chicken." He looked at the Canadian's dark brown leather jacket. "I drove
you home for this?"

"Watch it, G-man." St. George chuckled as she stepped out of the car and
began the walk up to Scully's apartment. "My husband knows how to use his
weapon better than you do yours..."

"Ouch." Mulder deftly unlocked the security door, leading the way. "Besides,
a man can dream." He tugged at the sleeves of his own leather coat. "Anyway,
it's more practical for this sort of..." He stopped speaking as he stared at
the front door of Scully's apartment. And the woman standing just inside the
open door.

"What?" Pulling the door shut, Scully breezed past the two shocked people;
her black leather pants eagerly drawing Mulder's eyes after her. Brushing a
non-existent piece of lint from the shoulder of her matching leather jacket
she grinned widely at St. George.

"You... are being very nasty to your partner." The Canadian whispered as
they headed for the car, Mulder a discreet distance behind them.

"Yes. I am." The redhead smiled. "I'll drive. Otherwise we'll be in an
accident before we get off this street."

*********

The Bovine Sex Club was obviously a popular place with the younger crowd;
the lineup stretching around the block as the trio approached. Mulder waved
a hand at the lengthy queue.

"No wonder I had to park so far away." He yelled over the loud music
eminating from the building; vibrating the pavement under their feet even
with the door closed. "Guess we'll have to use the usual method to get in."
His hand dipped into his inner jacket pocket; reaching for his badge.

"Nah... I got it..." Stepping over the chain link barrier St. George
whispered to the heavyset bouncer for a few minutes, then gestured for the
two agents to join her. As the guard opened the door for them she shrugged.

"Stick and carrot..."

Scully opened her mouth to respond, then fell silent as the chaotic nature
of the club fell over them like a death shroud.

The large room that had been so brightly lit only hours previously now
resembled a gothic dungeon; jagged streaks of light shooting across at odd
angles as they illumiated the dancing crowd. Where years ago there would
have been a live band, there was only a sound booth with a faceless employee
jabbing his fingers at various computer keyboards and gesturing wildly at
the gyrating audience.

Mulder leaned close to her, his lips to her ear as he shouted. "I forgot to
bring my earplugs..."

St. George had already hustled her way to the bar, seeking out their
previous contact. The beefy man was down at the other end of the bar but
approached quickly as soon as he spied the woman. As Mulder and Scully made
their way to her side, he began to talk as quietly as he could; given the
atmosphere.

"A.J. isn't due in tonight; according to the rumors. Seems she's feeling
under the weather." He glanced at the young crowd. "But the regulars aren't
here either." Dipping his hand under the counter he came up with a piece of
paper; the crude printing spread out over the neon pink paper. Silently he
handed it over to Mulder.

"Looks like she's having her own party." He tapped the bar. "Thanks."

"Just don't call me to go anywhere." The man looked up and down the length
of the bar. "I don't really need to get a rep as a player, you know?"

"Understood." Mulder looked at his partner. "What odds that she's been
tipped off that we're already looking for her?"

Grabbing a stray lock of hair and tucking it behind her ear, Scully nodded.
"I'd put my money either on Adams or Kersh."

"Kersh?" He yelled back.

"He told us not to get involved." Scully waved her hand at the crushing
crowd around them. "I wouldn't put it above him to have called the hounds
down on us. Not to mention Adams."

"Well, either way we've got a trail to follow." St. George interjected as
she clapped her hands over her ears. "And while I love Gorillaz, I don't
think I can take much more of this unless I start drinking..."

"Let's get back to the car and take it from there." Mulder began to clear a
path towards the front door.

Suddenly they found their path blocked by what he could only describe as a
wall of flesh. Looking up, the FBI agent found himself staring into the face
of a flushed and, if his deep frown was any indication, very angry man.

The man, in his early twenties, was breathing heavily as he glared at the
trio. "You pushed me."

Raising his hands in what he hoped would be perceived as a submissive
gesture, Mulder smiled. "Sorry, man - just trying to get the ladies
outside."

"What, you don't like the music?" The man leaned forward, exposing his newly
shaved head. "You got a problem with me?"

"No, not at all." He could feel Scully close behind him, her right hand
tracing down his side to signal that she was prepared to pull her weapon if
need be.

"Hey, man... let me buy you a drink." St. George stepped forward, a wide
grin on her face. "You know how it is when you bring the newbies out for a
night - they don't get it right off..." Her hand landed lightly on the
hulk's right shoulder.

"You wanna go, bitch?" He dropped his stare down on the Canadian's face.
"You wanna go? I'll rip you a new one..."

Her hand took a firm grip on the light denim shirt as she moved in close.
Her loud whisper carried to the two agents.

"You wanna go? I've got socks older than you are, you fucking puppy..." Her
eyes grew wide as she locked eyes with the taller man. "Step the fuck
outside..."

"No need." Suddenly his head shot forward, catching the woman square in the
forehead. As she fell backwards Mulder's hand shot inside his leather
jacket, scrabbling for his badge.

Scully grabbed St. George as she fell to the crowded floor, cushioning her
landing as she scanned her face quickly for any sign of blood. Even though
there had been no warning in the way of a painful headache, she knew that
the Canadian's beserker rage could be easily triggered if her blood were
drawn.

The meaty hand wrapped itself around Mulder's throat as his own hands shot
free; clawing at the thick fingers threatening to cut off his breathing.
Dropping his hands back down at his sides Mulder tried vainly to get to his
weapon, dreading the result if he managed to get it free.

Suddenly the man's face contorted in a painful grimace; his grip loosening
on the agent's throat as his color went from a sickly pale to a dense
scarlet blush. Releasing Mulder fully his hand flew down to his crotch,
cupping himself with both hands as he began to slowly slide towards the
ground.

"Mulder, grab her - let's get the hell out of here." Scully pushed her way
past the drooping attacker, dragging the dazed Canadian by her jacket.
Wrapping an arm around the bemused woman Mulder joined them in a quick
exodus, nodding at the bouncer as he moved in on the writhing man.

The bitterly cold air shot over the trio as they staggered through the
waiting lineup and onto the sidewalk; maneuvering awkwardly around the
corner and out of sight. Propping the still-dazed woman up against the brick
wall, Mulder took a deep breath and looked at his partner.

"I hate to ask, but what did you do?"

The redhead gave off a simple smile. "What, you don't remember the first
lesson all women are taught?" She curled her right hand into a fist and made
a short jab. "If he hadn't been so focused on you he would have been able to
stop me. As it was..." Her eyes sparkled with the adreneline still racing
through her system. "Not much there anyway."

"Oh, man..." St. George mumbled, her hand slowly rising to rub her face.
"I'm way too old for this crap..."

Expertly checking her face again, Scully looked up at Mulder. "Let's get her
back to the car. I'm sure it's nothing, but we got lucky this time."

"No kidding." Placing one arm across his shoulders he began to walk,
carrying or dragging the Canadian. "Not that pulling our weapons would have
been much worse..."

"Think it was a setup?" Unlocking the car door Scully waited until her
friend had climbed in on the back seat. "Or just your typical nasty
nightclub run-in?"

"Well, I'd like to say that I've always been a target of big thugs but I
don't think so." Mulder turned the engine over, flicking the settings to
blast heat through the car. "But we still have this." He waved the thin
paper. "We can still find her here."

"Argh..." A low moan came from the back seat. Propping herself up with one
hand St. George rummaged in her jacket pocket for the ever-present pill
bottle. Handing it to Scully she sat upright and leaned back. "Just pull two
of them out."

"Fiorenal." Scully shook two purple pills free, handing them over the seat.
"How bad is it?"

"Let's just say that a headbutt is bad - but what we're heading for is
worse." A weak smile came over her face as she tossed the pills into her
mouth, dryswallowing them. "Good move, there - learn that from your dad or
your mom?"

"Bill, actually." Scully chuckled as the car began to move. "Always said
that a girl had to protect herself."

***********

"This is the place?" She looked at the seemingly deserted warehouse. Mulder
nodded, his finger on the paper.

"According to the instructions. Although these things are known to switch
locations at a moment's notice..."

"Uh..." St. George jerked a thumb towards the small groups of teenagers
shifting in and out of the shadows around the building. "I think it's the
right place..."

"How do you want to play this?" Mulder opened the car door.

"Like we always do." Scully shrugged. "Either by the book or by the seat of
our pants."

Rubbing her temples, the Canadian stepped out from the back. "I'm so glad
you made that clear."

The trio began to casually walk towards the front of the warehouse, keeping
a cautious eye on the single entrance and exit door; swinging open and shut
every few seconds as loud music eminated from within.

"Help!" As if on cue, they stopped. Swivelling their heads as one, their
attention dropped to the small group of teens standing to their left, mostly
in the shadows.

"Man..." A loud curse came from their leader, a young man barely in his
twenties. Standing back from the crowd, he waved his hands in the air.
"Anyone got a phone? We need to call someone..."

Trotting ahead of the other two, Scully glanced down at the unconscious body
surrounded by other teens. Dropping to her knees she began her reflexive
routine to assess the young girl.

"What did she take?" She looked up at the blank faces around her. The leader
stepped further back, chewing nervously on a baby pacifier. "What did she
take?"

"It's cool..." Another teen, possibly her boyfriend, shrugged as he took a
swig from a bottle of water. "She'll come around. I don't think..."

"She's barely breathing." Scully nodded to Mulder who had already begun to
dial 911. "Did she get this from A.J.?"

Blank looks all around.

"What did she take?" Her voice rose as she felt the weak pulse in the teen's
neck. "Look, she might die..."

"It's Andi..." A whisper came from a blonde girl as she wrestled with her
thick overcoat. "She's not going to die, is she?"

"I don't know..." Taking her own coat off Scully draped it across the
immobile body, checking her pulse again. "How old is she?"

The blonde caught a long tress of hair in her fingers, twirling it tightly.

"How old?"

Her boyfriend stepped up, uneasily biting his lip. "Look, it's no alcohol
here. It's all cool with the cops, ya know..."

"How old?" Her voice rose to a yell. Turning away from the silent group she
grabbed the small black box that served as a purse; dumping the contents out
on the cold icy ground.

"Here." Mulder wrestled with a thin wallet. "Sally Hornswell." His eyes met
hers. "She's only 13."

His partner shook her head. "No..." She leaned over the young girl again.
"Can't be..."

The teens began to move away from the three agents and their patient, edging
towards the street.

"Not going to get any help there." St. George groused as the sound of an
ambulance siren was heard in the distance. "They all figure it's just a bad
break." Her hand reached out snagging a small plastic baggie that had fallen
out of the purse. Holding it up she displayed the two small shamrock-shaped
pill to the partners. "Betcha it ain't children's aspirin..."

*********

"Think she'll make it?" Mulder looked at the retreating lights as the
ambulance spun out of sight. Shaking her head, Scully glanced at the
thinning crowd around them.

"Probably. If they can get her stabilized and figure out what sort of
garbage is in her system. I sent one of the pills with the paramedics and
kept one for our own analysis." A weak chuckle broke free. "I'm picking up
your bad habits now." Running a chilled hand through her hair she let out a
weary sigh. "How can these kids just take this stuff without even knowing
who made it?"

"They want a thrill; a rush." Mulder shrugged. "It's like when we first
tried cigarettes. We didn't know how addictive they could be." An
involuntary shiver ran through his body at the unpleasant memory of his
recent run-in with them. "You always assume somebody's looking at the bigger
picture; that someone's doing quality control. And it's fun."

"This isn't fun, Mulder." She angrily retorted, jabbing her hands into her
pockets. "They're risking their lives on an anomymous drugmaker in his
basement adding anything and everything to these magic pills." Her head
jerked towards the retreating young men and women. "And no one seems to
care."

"They don't care because they don't worry about dying." St. George added
quietly. "And to make it worse..." She jerked a thumb at the four police
cruisers pulling up; lights ablaze. "And I bet there's not a chance in hell
of finding A.J. now..."

**********

"Well, fancy meeting you here..." Detective Adams rubbed his chin. The
uniformed officers were busy talking to the few teens that had managed to be
caught up in the weak dragnet that had fallen on the warehouse. "Don't
suppose you're here 'cause you have nothing else do to tonight?"

"How's the girl?" Scully leaned against their car wearily. "Any word yet
from the hospital?"

"I have no idea." Adams looked at Mulder. "If I mention this to your
superiors I assume you'll get a phone call down to the office."

"Down from their office is a good walk." St. George blew warm air into her
cupped hands. "From what I understand, their supervisor just needs the
pitchfork..."

"Detective Adams, what do you have on Hawthorne's death?" Mulder stared at
the man. "Because I'm curious as to what you plan to tell his parents."

"There isn't any mystery here, Agent Mulder." Waving a hand at one of the
policemen he headed for his car. "Mistaken identity of a homeless man. He'll
be given a decent funeral and then we all move on."

"And his parents?" Scully pressed for an answer.

"His parents will have to come to terms that their son is still a missing
person."

"Despite the fingerprints?"

"Agent Scully, you know as well as I do that mistakes happen. I'm sure that
it'll come out that the prints were mixed up with another file and resulted
in a misidentification." He nodded at the trio as he walked towards his car.
"So it goes."

"I so want to thump him." St. George kicked a thick hunk of snow off of the
rear tire well. "He's too fricking smug for my liking."

"Well, you can't blame him." Mulder opened the door and slid behind the
wheel, covering his mouth as a wide yawn escaped. "Not like anyone is really
going to go to the newspapers and scream loudly. As long as they have the
body and the files..."

His redheaded partner held up the small baggie. "But we have something
here." She gestured to the heater switch. "Crank that thing up - you can
drop me at the hospital before you go visit your friends. Somehow I suspect
they might have some knowledge of illegal substances such as this..."

*********

Mulder's fist hammered again on the thick metal door. "Come on, fellas - I
know you're in there and I know you're going to open this door or I'll have
to take my newest edition of Adult Video News home..."

The sound of several locks being twisted open reached their ears as St.
George let out a low chuckle. Slowly the door opened, pushing the fresh snow
away in a wide swath.

"Ooooh... tell me you have a kettle and a teapot..." She stepped around the
startled Frohike and headed for the makeshift kitchen. "And if you have milk
that's less than a month old..."

"What's up?" Ignoring the FBI agent Langley appeared from the far bedroom,
running a hand through his straggly blond locks. "Oh, St. George..." His
grin grew as Byers stepped out from the bathroom, wrestling with a thick
sweatshirt over his everpresent shirt and tie.

"Don't tell me you sleep in that." Mulder snickered as he made his way to
the main worktable. "And if you don't have any tea, you better put on your
snow boots and make for the nearest all-night store."

Wrapping the thick red bathrobe around him Frohike seated himself on the
stool and waited for his cohorts to gather. "I assume this isn't a social
visit."

"Not in your wildest dreams." Mulder pulled out the small pill. "And I don't
even want to know about those." He inched the tablet towards the bag
opening. "What we need is to know what exactly is in this."

"Ah, now..." Byers peered over Frohike's shoulder as he gingerly edged the
pill onto a petri dish. "You wouldn't be trafficking in illegal substances,
would you?"

"Aha!" A triumphant shout came from the far room.

"Now that she's happy..." Mulder turned his attention back to the Gunmen.
"This pill and others like it may be responsible for a lot of premature
deaths. And not just because of Ecstacy. We need a breakdown of what's in
there as soon as possible."

"Roger that." Langley reached for a laptop, rapping the keys as it came
online. "Might take a bit of time..."

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

"Well, I can tell you what it's not..." Frohike gestured at the microscope.
"It's not Ecstacy."

St. George frowned. "You sure about that?" Grimacing as she drank the last
mouthful of cold tea, she waved off the microscope. "Like I'd know what I
was looking at..."

"Definitely." Flicking back a blond strand of hair the lanky Langly nodded.
"Not a trace of meth in this. In fact, we can't tell you what it is."

"Excuse me?" Mulder stepped in behind Frohike and looked at the slide. "Then
what the hell is it?"

"I don't know." The dimunitive man shrugged. "This ain't CSI - we don't have
exactly all the equipment to analysis this. But it's not anything we've
encountered before."

"So what is this?" Mulder stared at the half pill still remaining in the
plastic bag.

"You got us." Byers appeared from the back room, adjusting his ever-present
tie. "But it's not Ecstacy."

Mulder opened his mouth to speak, suddenly silenced by the shrill tone of
his cell phone.

"Mulder..."

"It's me." A weary sigh came over the airwaves. "They lost her about twenty
minutes ago."

"From what?" He looked at the plastic bag. "What did they find out about the
pill?"

"I don't know." Scully's voice dropped a level. "They shut me out the second
Adams showed up. Congestive heart failure is what I'm hearing from the
nurses, but even they're scared to talk to me."

"Adams is there?" Mulder swivelled to look at St. George, gesturing to the
small pill fragments sitting atop the worktable in a metal tray.

"He appeared not long after you dropped me off. I don't know if he followed
me or wanted to check on her himself but he was here and keeping me at arms
length." A weary sigh came over the line. "Mulder, what's killing these
kids? This isn't just a drug dealer cutting baking powder in with the
pills."

"Did you see her?" He watched as the Canadian carefully scooped the remains
into a fresh plastic bag. "Let me guess - nowhere near her age."

"I didn't see her after she arrived, but..." Her voice dropped. "They took
her down to the morgue about ten minutes ago. Adams left after giving me
some nice speech about kids and drugs."

"We'll be there as fast as we can."

*********

"Pro-what eeah?"

"Progeria." Mulder maneuvered the car into a parking spot, turning the
engine off. "We've come in contact with this before."

"But that was... years ago." St. George scurried down the sidewalk, gingerly
picking her steps over the slippery cement. "I thought you said the research
was lost."

"That's what I believed." Leading her to the back door of the building the
tall lanky man let out a weary sigh. "I thought it had been. But with this
type of death..."

"You figured someone found it and warped it out somehow?" She rapped three
times on the steel exit door, then once more.

"I've got no idea." He admitted as the door swung open, spying Scully just
inside the darkened hallway. "But whatever's happening to these kids isn't
natural."

"You know, I think this is the first time I've done any slinking in the
morgue with you two." The Canadian wrinkled her nose as Scully skillfully
unlocked the autopsy bay door. "I can't say that I've missed this."

"Well, you're on sentry duty." Mulder slipped through the door. "Anyone
comes on by, try and signal us so that we can get the body back into the
locker and get out of sight."

"And I would do this by..." She let the sentence trail off in an unspoken
question.

"Improvise." The door slid shut silently between them.

**********


 Leo McGarry (The West Wing) : "Act as if ye have faith and faith shall be
given to you. Put it another way, fake it till you make it."

Scully: "People live with cancer. They carry on, and so will I. You know
I`ve got things to finish, to prove to myself, to my family, but for my own
reasons."


Dragons in A Bottle (3/5)
By Sheryl Nantus

"Okay, so..." Mulder pulled his penlight from a pocket. "Not large enough?"

Scully gave him a deadpan look as she produced her own larger flashlight.
"You know what they say, Mulder..." Brushing by him with a smirk she headed
for the charts stacked at the far end of the darkened lab. "I'm sure they
didn't have time to do much of an autopsy, but we might save a few steps..."
Handing a thick pile to her partner she began to flip through the folders.

"Got it." He whispered loudly. "Guess she was one of the last ones in
tonight." He placed the folder down on the stainless steel autopsy table,
illuminating it with a steady hand. "Looks like they didn't have time to do
much..." He stopped as the light revealed a frown on Scully's face. "What?"

"Says that the body isn't here anymore." A thin fingernail drew an angry
line across the thin paper. "Released to her parents just before they locked
up. In other words, before you got here and while she was still warm she was
going out the back door."

"Sure it was her parents?" Mulder chewed on his lower lip. "I'm willing to
bet that's not true."

"But they did manage to get some details written down." She scanned down the
document. "You remember what you were telling me about this progeria theory
of yours?"

"Yes?"

"Close, but no cigar." The redhead pursed her lips. "And sometimes a cigar
is just a cigar..."

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

St. George leaned against the cool wall, letting her breath out slowly as
she waited. Suddenly a faint sound reached her ears, footsteps. Her ears
quickly identified them as thick heavy authoritian footsteps. And they were
growing louder.

Dropping to one knee in front of the locked autopsy bay doors she withdrew a
set of cheap lockpicks from an inner pocket in her jacket and began fiddling
with the lock; banging into the doors as she rocked back and forth.

"Stop right there..." The voice carried down the hall. "Get your hands up
where I can see them."

Letting the metal picks fall to the ground the Canadian rose slowly to her
feet, facing away from the voice. Placing her hands slowly atop her head she
let a sneaky smile escape before settling her face into a stoic stare.

"Turn around. Slowly."

She grinned as she spied the man standing a few steps away, his weapon
drawn. "Why, Detective Adams! Fancy seeing you here."

The blond man returned her smile without missing a beat. "Should I ask what
you're doing here and why you're trying to break into the morgue?"

"Well, I was looking for a date..." She shrugged as he moved closer. "But
hey, my personal problems aren't any of your business."

"Why do I hear the phrase 'cold stiff one' about to enter this talk?"
Gesturing with one hand he watched her place her hands against the wall.
"Like it's a new joke or something..."

Cautiously reaching around her waist he withdrew her weapon from the
holster, letting out a low whistle. "A .38? You into antiques or something?"
Emptying the bullets onto the floor with a loud clatter he dropped the
weapon into a coat pocket. "You can get those later."

"Family heirloom." She flipped back her ponytail with a nod of her.
"Sometimes the simplest things are the most reliable."

"Whatever." He looked at the fallen lockpicks. "You're pretty sloppy, give
you that." His hand roamed into her jacket pockets and across the thick
sweatshirt, professional to a fault.

"Hey, it's not my first love. Now, if you want a curling partner..." She
tensed as his hand curled around the plastic bag. Withdrawing it slowly
Adams let out a low whistle.

"Oh, I think you can do better than that. Turn around." Handing her back the
old revolver he waited until she had replaced the weapon in the worn leather
holster before continuing. "Should I even ask what this is?"

"Sweet Tarts. It's a Canadian delicacy, really. You know, you can't even get
Smarties down here and a good gravy for your poutine..."

He waved her silent with his automatic. "Okay, where's the other two?"

"Out on a date. What, you think they take me everywhere?"

"Cute. But seriously before I drag your ass down to the station and toss you
in for the night - where are they?"

"Checking out a few leads on our mystery man. You know, the one that died in
their office?"

Adams shook his head. "Look, I figured they'd be coming to check out that
girl. But it was nothing more than bad drugs in her system - it happens.
It's wrong and sad and ugly and sucks, but it happens. Her parents already
came for the body, if that saves you any work."

St. George nodded. "So tell me why you're buying all this crap."

"What crap?"

She let her hands down slowly, making sure he watched her every move.
"You're not dumb. You know this stuff isn't Ecstacy. It's something totally
different and nothing coming out of a basement lab."

"Really?" The detective leaned against the wall; his weapon still trained on
the woman. "And what do I believe, then?"

"There's something else going on here. Something that you're not going to be
able to cover up forever." She jerked a thumb behind her. "How many deaths
do you figure they'll be able to cover up before an angry parent freaks out
and goes to the press? Or a doctor has the balls to give the report to the
media before you get to him?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about." He tossed the small plastic bag
to her. "And neither do you." The muzzle of the weapon bounced upwards.
"Have one on me."

"Oh, I don't think so." St. George held the thin bag out at arms length.
"Sorry, Charlie - you'll have to figure out some other way to kill me. And
it better be ingenious."

"Oh, I do think so." Adams smiled. "Either you swallow that pill or I drag
you down to the station for attempted break and enter. And then I arrest
your two friends for questioning as to what you were here about and then
we'll take it from there." He shrugged. "You may not die. Who knows?"
Carefully cocking his automatic he tilted his head to one side. "Or I can
shoot you right here and claim that you pulled on me first." One eyebrow
rose. "You a gambler?"

"Well, I do pretty well at blackjack in Vegas..." Slowly extracting the half
shamrock-shaped pill from the bag she held it up. "Don't suppose you want to
join me?"

"I already ate." Adam's finger slipped from the trigger guard to the trigger
itself. "Eat, drink and be merry..."

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

"What I'm saying is that the blood work doesn't support any theory I can
think of." Scully ran her finger down the page again. "The preliminary
report doesn't support progeria either; although her advanced age was noted
by the doctors." She paused. "She was running a high fever as well - I
noticed that at the warehouse." She shook her head. "It's like her body was
going into overdrive but not going into overdrive. I can't explain it better
than that at this point."

"So what sort of results would you get by taking this?" Mulder shook his
head. "I don't get..." He froze as a faint pounding echoed through the lab.
Crouching down behind the autopsy table he held his breath, dumping the
minilight into his pocket. Beside him he could feel the heat coming off of
his partner's body as she pressed against him, leaning forward as if the few
extra inches would give better hearing.

The pounding stopped. Faintly he could hear voices, then silence. Slowly
getting to his feet he looked at Scully in the darkness.

"What's your guess?" He whispered. She shook her head.

"If I say it's too quiet, will you laugh at me later?" The redhead
responded. "It's a good bet that since we're still here that no one's opened
fire..." She took a shallow breath. "But I hope she's okay."

"Only one way to find out." Mulder grabbed the papers out of the folder,
ripping them free and tucking them into his jacket pocket. "Just remember -
I bleed easily."

Her scornful chuckle followed him as he cautiously made his way to the
locked doors. Peering cautiously through the small window he frowned.
"Nobody out there."

"No one?" Scully licked her lips. "That's not good."

Carefully turning the doorknob Mulder pushed it open slowly. Entering the
hallway he looked from side to side.

"Mulder." He looked down at the cheap metal lockpicks lying on the tiled
floor. "I don't know about you, but those aren't mine." His foot kicked one
of the stray bullets across the tiled floor. "Nor that." Suddenly he knelt
down, snagging a torn plastic bag with one hand. "But this used to be."

***********

The thick exit doors crashed open with a scream of steel as the two agents
burst into the parking lot, their breath coming out in white puffs of smoke
as they came to a sudden stop.

"Where..." Mulder wheezed as he sucked in a lungful of cold crisp air. "What
would..."

"Mulder!" The petite redhead dashed to their left, towards the large metal
trash bins sitting against the hospital. It only took a few long strides to
catch up with her as she knelt down at the opening between the bins.

"What..." He wrestled for a clear voice as he stared at St. George sprawled
in the snow, eyes open and staring into the night sky. Scully pointed at a
melted multi-colored patch in the small snowbank.

"She forced herself to throw up." Placing a hand on the Canadian's forehead
the agent shuddered. "She's burning up..."

"Knew all those Fashion TV specials would come in handy..." Her eyes
suddenly came into focus, settling on his eyes. "Adams. It was Adams." St.
George mumbled as Mulder pulled her upright, wiping her mouth gently with
his jacket sleeve. "But I see..." Her voice faltered as a wide smile spread
across her face. "It's beautiful..." She sagged forward in his arms.

"We have to get her inside." Mulder slid his arms around the unconscious
woman. "Whatever it is, it's going to kill her."

As he staggered to his feet suddenly her eyes shot open, arms flailing as
she tried to break free. "Let me go..."

"Jackie, you're not okay..." Scully put a hand on her shoulder, gently
pushing her back into Mulder's grip. "We need to get you inside."

"No, I'm fine." Shaking herself free of his grip the Canadian stood up,
steady and firm on her feet. "I mean it. I'm fine."

"Okay..." Mulder looked from one woman to the other. "I'm kind of at a loss
here on what to do."

"I'm not." Scully stepped forward, taking a firm grip on St. George's
jacket. "You just took a dose of an unknown substance. You need to be
checked out because some of that got into your system; no matter how fast
you think you were in getting it out of your stomach."

The Canadian ripped her sleeve free. "Bugger you! I don't need to be poked
or prodded because you want to get more information for your little files
and you need your proof." Taking a few steps away she drew a deep breath of
the cold night air. "Don't think I know what you're up to; what you want.
You set this all up because you're all interested in anything but the
truth..." She staggered slightly, slipping off the icy sidewalk into the
street. "Don't think I don't know who my friends are..." Breaking into a run
she fled down the street, disappearing into an alleyway before the pair knew
what was happening.

Mulder took a few half-hearted steps after her then paused. "We won't catch
her."

Whipping out her cell phone Scully dialed in a familiar number. "I'll get an
APB out on her." She flinched under Mulder's astonished glare. "Look, I know
it's not the best solution, but it's the only way to get her back into a
hospital. And if we have to get the police involved..."

Shaking his head Mulder made his way to the car. Placing his head down on
the hood for a second, he turned to look at his partner. "What the hell have
we done?"

"It's not what we've done." She looked down the empty street. "It's what the
people who designed this drug wanted to do. And she might be the best chance
we have to find out what and why."

"If it doesn't kill her." Opening the driver's door he let out a low sigh.
"I know she's tough, but..."

"Well, not like coming back from the dead is a new experience for us." She
began to talk quietly into the phone.

***********

"It's been almost an hour and nothing." He drummed his fingers on the
steering wheel as they waited at another red light. "You'd expect that
someone would have seen her by now."

Scully nodded, placing her hand on his leg. "We'll find her. Give the system
a bit of time to work. It's not like she's going to disappear." Her eyes
flickered from side to side as if seeking the answer on the snowy road in
front of them. "I expect that she'll show up soon enough."

As if on cue Mulder's cell phone rang. Ignoring the green light that now
beckoned them he put the phone to his ear. "Mulder..." He turned to stare at
Scully. "We'll be right there. No, don't do anything." He stomped down on
the gas pedal.

"They found her?"

"No." He tossed the phone to Scully. "Call off the dogs - she found us. In a
way."

***********

Trotting down into the narrow alleyway Mulder pounded on the door, staring
directly at the hidden camera set into the far wall. "Open up already..."
Upon hearing the many locks click open he pushed the door open and walked
into the main work area.

"Okay. Where is she?" Scully glanced around the cluttered workbenches and
towards the well-broken in couch. Frohike ducked out from behind the door, a
finger to his lips.

"Shush. She told us not to tell you that she was here." Gesturing with one
hand he led the pair towards a back storage room. "It didn't take us long to
figure out that something was wrong."

"She's running a high fever and delusional?" Scully whispered.

The dimunitive man stopped. "No, she didn't want any tea. Actually, she
wanted Jolt cola. A lot of it." He jerked a thumb towards the nearly closed
door. "We've been keeping her under surveillance..."

Mulder cautiously looked around the corner. St. George sat quietly in a
corner, tapping frantically on a borrowed laptop. Around her sat the remains
of at least three bags of chips, two packs of cookies and numerous cans of
cola. Sweat rolled off her face as her fingers flew across the keyboard; her
sweatshirt soaked through. Her jacket lay in a far corner along with her
revolver and boots, leaving her bare feet curled up under her as she
crouched at the computer. Every few seconds she would grab at the nearest
food source, munching noisily and dropping crumbs everywhere or pouring the
caffeine-laced cola down her throat, often missing and ending up on her
shirt.

"What's she doing?" Scully whispered. Frohike nodded back towards the main
room where Byers and Langley stood, intently studying a laptop as well.

"This... is incredible..." The blond man muttered, freeing a stray strand of
hair from his eyeglasses. "Man, she's a pro..."

"At what?" Mulder looked over their shoulders at the numbers scrolling
across the color screen. "What's this?"

"She's a natural, Mulder." The Ramones fan grinned widely. "You never told
us that she was a hackmaster."

"A what?" Scully pushed the astonished Byers aside and stared at the screen.
"What's this?"

"Ah... we set up a remote to see what she's doing on the other computer."
Byers rubbed his beard thoughtfully. "At first we thought she was just
playing around, strung out on something the way she was muttering to
herself, but then..."

"...Then she managed to hack into the New York Times database and half a
dozen sites faster than..." Langley looked at the two agents. "Ah... a few
computer wizards we know."

"She's what?" Mulder squinted, trying to follow the streaming numbers and
letters flashing across the screen.

"We cut her modem off, obviously." Tugging nervously on his striped tie,
Byers inserted himself between the screen and the agitated agents. "But she
wanted to do something, so we 'assigned' her a few tasks..."

"What?" Crossing his arms Mulder stared at the three Gunmen. "What did you
do?"

"Ah..."

"Ah..."

Frohike glanced around the room before speaking. "We've had a few...
intriguing computer programs and chips that needed a bit of work."

"You've got her breaking into systems for you?" Scully's face flashed
scarlet. "You're using her to further your criminal activities?"

"Hey, hey... no one said anything about criminal." Langley slid off the
stool, retreating under her furious glare. "It's not like the chips are
American anyway - they're Korean. Japanese." Seeing no change in her attack
mode, he looked to Mulder for help. "Look, if it wasn't here she'd be in a
cybercafe and breaking down firewalls like tinfoil."

"And her health?" The redhead whipped around, face to forehead with Frohike.
"Have you figured out how to keep her alive?"

"Actually, we did." Backing away slowly he gestured at another monitor. "We
convinced her to put on a few remotes. Said that it would set off alarms if
you two came too close to her."

Scully peered at the lines crossing the small screen. "Hmm... well, her
heart rate is high but not deadly..." Turning back towards the quartet she
shook her head. "Maybe it wasn't enough to cause the same results as in the
other two, but..."

"I know." Mulder rubbed the side of his head. "But taking her into a
hospital right now would probably involve twenty men and dragging her out of
here." He looked around the room. "And I'm willing to bet a whole lot of
blood - not necessarily ours."

Scully walked away, going back to the door. "But what's going on..." She
whispered under her breath. "What is going on in your head?"

*********

"Look, it's the best we can do for her right now." Mulder turned the key in
the ignition. "Right now..."

"And when she goes into cardiac arrest? Or tosses a clot in her brain?"
Scully slumped in her seat. "She needs medical attention..."

"Those doctors couldn't save the other girl - Andi, Sally, whoever she
wanted to be." Pulling away from the curb again he forced his way into the
early morning traffic. "What do you think they'll be able to do with her?
More charcoal?"

"No, but..." Defeated for the moment she stared out the window at the fresh
snow falling. "They'll call if anything happens. Us and/or 911."

"I made them promise. As it is, she's working out theorems and cryptos that
the boys have been working on for years."

"So one effect of this drug is heightened brain activity..." Instinctively
falling into logic mode she chewed on a lower lip. "Increased neural
activity with the rest of her body trying to catch up."

"Bet that wouldn't be out of sight at one of these clubs." Stepping lightly
on the brake Mulder came to a careful stop at the red light. "Bouncing
around in a place like that no one's going to notice you sweating up a
storm - and if you do, you drink the ten dollar water bottles someone's
willing to sell you."

"Okay, let's put the pieces together." His partner closed her eyes as they
began to move again. "Someone's selling drugs to kids looking for Ecstacy
but instead they're taking this instead."

"And, instead of getting a rush or whatever they're becoming mobile
computers, if only for a short while." He turned the steering wheel to the
left. "Burning them out from the inside." His teeth clicked as the car
bumped into the FBI parking lot. "But why and for whom?"

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

"I'm not sure if I really should be hearing this." Assistant Director
Skinner rocked back in his chair. "Especially since Kersh has been demanding
to know the minute you two came back into the building."

"Has he?" Mulder shrugged. "Too bad his office is too high off the ground to
see the entrance."

"Yes, isn't it?" Swivelling back around to rest his elbows on the table he
looked from one agent to the other. "And I don't want to be the one to call
him or St. George's husband."

"Oh." The tall man pursed his lips. "I didn't think of that."

"Oh, you better." Skinner looked at the woman. "Tell me that she's going to
be okay."

"Well, she's probably as stable as she can be outside of a hospital." Scully
collapsed wearily into one of the padded chairs. "I just spoke to the
fellows on the way up - she's busy deciphering World War Two codes." She
paused. "Or the NSA's latest."

"I'll pretend I didn't hear that." The A.D. tried not to smile. "As long as
you think her condition is stable and she doesn't need hospitalization."

She crossed her legs, suddenly aware of wearing tight leather pants in the
A.D's office. "Well, what I would like isn't exactly the question here."

"What we need is to get ahold of this woman..." Mulder blinked rapidly as he
pulled up the information from his memory. "A.J. I'm willing to bet that
she's more than just a local drug dealer and rave runner."

"Do we have more than what loosely constitutes a name?" Skinner dangled a
pencil between his fingers. "Like, say... a picture?"

"I bet Detective Adams has one." Mulder shook his head. "And I'm pretty sure
that he's not going to be that accomadating at this moment."

"Perhaps he would be if he were being arrested for murder." Skinner looked
over his glasses at the pair.

"We can't connect him to the girl or Hawthorne." Smoothing out a
non-existent wrinkle on her pants, Scully waited for the answer.

"No, but to Jackie's." The A.D. let a small smile creep over his face.

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

 Leo McGarry (The West Wing) : "Act as if ye have faith and faith shall be
given to you. Put it another way, fake it till you make it."
 Scully: "People live with cancer. They carry on, and so will I. You know
I`ve got things to finish, to prove to myself, to my family, but for my own
reasons."


Dragons in A Bottle (4/5)
By Sheryl Nantus

"Hey Steve - don't even think about calling me this weekend." Sam Adams
grabbed his coat from the ancient rack hanging on the wall. The uniformed
officer waved him off with a laugh.

"Just enjoy it. And I won't pass your card out to the hookers next time
they're looking for an 'easy' charge." The laughter followed the lean man
out of the police station and into the parking lot.

Slipping slightly on the black ice spread out through the parking lot he
made his way to the black SUV at the far end. With a mild curse he began to
dig into his trenchcoat pockets for the keys.

Suddenly an unfamiliar tall husky man appeared beside him, the sunlight
glancing off his glasses. Without speaking he grabbed ahold of Adams,
shoving him into the front seat of the truck before getting in after him.

"What the..." Scrabbling for his weapon the astonished detective felt a
sharp pain in his side. Looking down he saw the pistol securely held against
his ribs; leading back to a stone-faced Fox Mulder.

"Look, I don't know..." Adams began to speak. An elbow quickly flew up from
the driver, catching him under the chin.

"Shut up." The older man growled. "He may have bad dreams about killing you,
but I won't." As Mulder carefully retrieved the detective's weapon Skinner
threw the car into drive. "And believe me, I can make it a whole lot longer
than he can."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Adams snarled back.

"Let's just say that I'm a firm believer in retribution." Spinning the
steering wheel as they turned onto the main street the Assistant Director
reached down beside him, pulling up a file folder. Tossing it onto the
astonished man's lap he turned his attention to driving.

"What's this?" Opening the folder the senior detective fell silent as he
looked at the death certificate and autopsy report.

"Yes, interesting reading." Mulder jabbed the barrel against the thin coat.
"Scully says it wasn't painful, but I think she's not being too honest. But
that's what we'll tell her husband."

"Look, I don't know anything about whatever happened to your pal."
Recovering his previous stoicism, Adams shook his head. "From what I've
heard it wasn't like she was a wallflower, you know..."

Skinner jammed on the brakes, sending the SUV into a spin on the slippery
street. Narrowly maneuvering around stopped traffic he sent the truck into a
small alley; finally bringing the car to a skittering stop.

"Look, I really don't care who you are or who you think you are or who you
know." He turned a steely gaze on the policeman. "But right now you happen
to be on my turf." Throwing the door open he grabbed ahold of Adam's coat,
dragging him out onto the concrete. "And frankly, I've got a bit of pent-up
anger that I need to release..."

Hands up in front of his face, Adams backed up against the wall. "Hey, come
on..." His breath came out in small strained white puffs of cold air. "I
didn't think it would kill her. I mean, they never said..."

Mulder stood off to one side, preventing any hope of escape as Skinner
advanced towards him. "I don't know if you have supplemental life insurance,
but I'd hope that little duck comes around the corner really fast..."

The detective stood up ramrod straight, his face frozen in a neutral stare.
"You have no idea what you're dealing with, do you?"

"Frankly, I do." The Assistant Director slowly withdrew his weapon, handing
it to Mulder. "And I don't care." He let one edge of his mouth twist upward.
"Let's just say that I know Faust too well."

"Look, it's not me you want..." A slim bead of sweat trickled down Adam's
face, an oddity in the cool air. "You know that, I know that. Let's deal."

Skinner stopped a foot away from him. "What do you want?"

"The usual. Immunity, new identity." The middle aged man shrugged. "Not like
I have so much to lose here."

"And in exchange?" Mulder called out from behind.

"I give you A.J." He paused. "She's the one you want. She's the one behind
all this."

Taking a long step forward Skinner leaned forward, his nostrils flaring.
"Behind all of what?"

"This." Pressing back against the cold brick he took a shallow breath.
"Look, all I know is that she's the one handing out these pills. I get paid
to keep the peace and hide the deaths."

"How many?'' The A.D. leaned forward again, giving him no escape. "How
many?"

"A lot. Ten, maybe twenty this year." Adams wiped his face with one hand.
"It's some sort of government test to see if they can get the kids off of
the crap by putting so much power into them that they die."

"Really." Mulder nodded. "Good way to encourage them to stop."

"Look, that's what I was told." The anxious detective mumbled. "She's the
one giving the kids the stuff."

"And Hawthorne? And the aging?" Skinner growled. "Explain that one to me."

"Hey, what do I know about this crap?" He put his hands up again. "Side
effects. Whatever it was, it's A.J. behind it. Period, end of sentence." He
blinked wildly. "Look, I take you to her, you bag her and get me the hell
out of Dodge."

"Who are you afraid of?" Mulder asked.

"Who aren't I afraid of?" Adams let out a hollow laugh. "You, them..."

"Who are you talking about?" Mulder pressed on. "The government? The drug
companies? Who?"

"Talk to her." Adams shrugged, leaning back on the cold bricks. "I'm just
the go-to boy here, fellas."

"Where is she?" Skinner snarled again. "Give us something now and I'll think
about letting you walk out of here with both legs and arms intact."

"She's going to be at the club tonight - the one you guys were at before."
He licked his lips nervously. "Go straight to the back where the video games
are and look for a back room there. She works out of there usually." A small
smile came up out of his fear. "Be prepared for a bit of resistance."

Grabbing ahold of the man's coat Skinner leaned in close. "Get the hell out
of here. We'll be in touch."

Adams took a few stumbling steps towards his truck, fumbling with the
driver's door as he slipped behind the wheel. Gunning the engine he drove
out of the alley at a furious pace, leaving the two agents behind.

"So what do you think?" Mulder exhaled a puff of white air. Skinner shook
his head.

"I don't know. Finding the woman isn't a bad way to start, but..." He began
to walk down the alley towards the street. "I think we need to regroup and
plan our attack on that club tonight."

"I love it when you talk tough."

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

Scully looked up from the workbench as the two men made their way in past
the well-locked door. "She's still working." She looked slyly at Byers and
Langley staring at their monitors. "And gone through quite a few 'projects'
from what I understand."

Frohike pushed past them all, heading for the kitchen. "I ordered another
case of Jolt and another of potato chips. At the rate she's going..."

"Well, her fever has broken. Of sorts." The redhead tapped the screen.
"Although I'm still not happy with the way she's going..."

"Think it'll burn out of her system?" Mulder dropped his jacket over the
back of one of the chairs as Skinner searched for a clean spot on the worn
sofa.

"I have no idea. I don't even know if we should be letting her doing this."
She wearily shook her head. "I managed to get a bit of a nap, but..." One
hand went to her mouth, covering a yawn. "I'm not operating at peak
efficiency here."

"None of you are." Skinner reached up and loosened his tie. "If we're going
back to this club tonight to get this woman, we'll all need to be at our
best. You two get some sleep and we'll stand watch."

Frohike opened his mouth as if to say something but closed it quickly upon
the glare of the ex-Marine. Langley stared at the keyboard as Byers nodded
his support. "You two take the main bedroom - we'll see what we can pull up
on A.J. and Adams in the meanwhile."

"What if she bolts?" Getting to her feet the weary woman took a few steps
towards the doorway. "Adams may call her and tell her to get out of town."

"I think that Adams wants the heat on her instead of on himself." Skinner
rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Besides, he knows that we'll be back on him
if he steers us wrong."

"And if he goes underground?" Frohike looked around the room. "Hey, I'm not
saying anything no one's thinking here..."

"Right now this is the best option." Skinner continued. "If he's going to
bolt, he's gone. If she's going to bolt, she's gone already. Nothing much we
can do other than run the mission the way we've laid it out right now and
see what develops."

"Okay." Mulder put one hand around Scully's waist, leading her towards the
far room. "Five hours, max. And if anything happens with Jackie, wake us
pronto."

"You got it." Skinner turned his attention on the three computer geeks.
"So... what do you guys have in the way of satellite TV?"

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

"Should I ask why there's just one double bed?" Scully closed the door
gently on the main room, turning to survey the too-neat room.

"Byers insists that he needs a lot of room." Mulder chuckled as he pulled
his sweater over his head, tossing it onto a wellworn dresser in the far
corner. "I think he's hoping that one of them eventually gets lucky so the
other two can lord it over him."

"Charming."

"Well, I can vouch that it's a clean bed." Flipping the thick black and
white striped comforter back he waved a hand over the printed sheets.
"Excuse the Star Wars motif. They were on sale."

"I really don't want to know." Sitting down heavily on the bed she let out a
long loud yawn, not bothering to control it. "I just want to not think for a
few minutes..."

Untying his boots Mulder nodded, stripping his socks off quickly. "I hear
you." Standing up, he began to undo his jeans.

"Uh..." He stopped, turning to see Scully staring at him, one eyebrow
skybound.

"Hey, I'm not going to do anything but sleep. And if you think I'm going to
go cuddle with Skinner out on the couch..."

"Whatever, Mulder. I'm too tired to even begin to think about this."
Flipping her shoes and socks into the opposite corner she curled up into a
ball atop the comforter, keeping her jeans and white Irish wool sweater on.
"I'm just glad I had time to go home and change. Those leather pants are a
pain after awhile..."

"Oh, thanks for that thought..." He groaned as he slipped under the covers.
Closing his eyes he gave himself over to the weariness he had been fighting
back for too long.

***********

"Mulder..." His eyelids were too heavy to lift, to open. He snuggled down
into the thick pillow under his head, one arm tucked under his head. The
voice returned again, along with a light shove.

"Mulder..." The distinctly male voice grew louder. "We have a... situation."

The agent's eyes shot open as he tried to focus on Byer's face. "What?" He
croaked.

"She... well, you better come and see for yourself." His eyes went to the
space just behind Mulder's head. "And you too."

Suddenly acutely aware of the light breathing on the back of his neck,
Mulder nodded. "We'll be out in a half minute." As Byers disappeared from
sight he took account of his circumstances, feeling the arm lightly tucked
around his midsection. Even though she was atop the covers, a fully clothed
Scully was more than enough to start his blood racing.

"Scully, we got to get going." With a groan he began to pull back the
covers, dislodging her grip.

"Hmm..." With a weary sigh she rolled away from him. "Just another few
minutes..."

"I don't think so." Reaching for his jeans Mulder playfully flipped his
pillow atop the redhead's face. "And don't tempt me..."

The muffled response wasn't enough to stop him from grabbing his sweater and
continuing into the main living room. Behind him he heard the frantic
movements of his partner as she caught up with him both in consciousness and
body.

St. George sat quietly on the couch, sipping a large mug of tea. She looked
up at the disheveled pair. "What, you got them outta bed for me? Toss them
back... unless they were just sleeping..." She winked at them mischeviously.

"Are you... I mean, how are you feeling?" Scully sat down quickly beside the
Canadian, putting a hand to her forehead. "No fever."

"A bit of heartburn." She tapped her chest. "And I think a few heart
palpatations, but that may be the worst of it."

"What do you remember?" Mulder took the offered cup of coffee from a waiting
Skinner.

She shook her head. "Ah... not much. Although I'm in desperate need of a new
set of clothes and a long, hot shower." Running a hand through her greasy
dirty hair she grimaced. "Tell me that I didn't do anything really
embarassing."

Frohike appeared from around the corner. "Right - got it all on tape. The
backup worked just fine." His expression changed at St. George's scowl.
"What? What?"

"And about a bucketful of hand lotion." She looked down at her fingers.
"So... let's take this from the top and see who I have to kill for what..."
One hand began to rub her forehead. "And pass the Tylenol..."

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

"Figure we'll get the same reception as last time?" Scully smoothed out a
wrinkle in her leather pants as they pulled into the club parking lot. "I
can't believe I'm going to a nightclub twice in the same year..."

"Think of it as pushing the envelope." St. George mumbled from the back
seat. "Gawd, I can't believe I drank all that cola. I'll be wired for a
month."

"Well, don't dash off to the bathroom before we get finished here." Mulder
picked up the radio. "You there?"

A gravelly voice replied. "Excellent radio protocol, Agent Mulder."

He grinned, imagining Skinner sitting in the Lone Gunmen's van surrounded by
surveillance equipment that he was trying hard not to see. "We're going in
now. Watch our back."

"As usual, Mulder." A weary sigh came through the static. "No, I don't want
to see how that works. You're not even supposed to know what that is!" The
radio clicked off.

"Skinner may never recover from this one." Scully chuckled as she opened the
door.

The trio made their way to the front of the line, where a familiar beefy
bouncer stared down at them.

"FBI." Mulder flashed his badge. "We're going in either way, so make it
easy..."

Much paler than he had been a second ago, the tall man stepped aside and
opened the door for them. Nodding enthusiastically, he watched as most of
his waiting clientele also disappeared into the dark winter night.

Inside the club was already in full swing, the music blasting out over the
crowded floor. Pushing his way through the crowd with the two women behind
him, Mulder pressed through to the bar and their familiar contact.

He spotted them almost immediately, brushing past a fellow bartender as he
came over to them. "Hey, what's happening?"

Mulder flashed his badge again. "We're headed for the back room. You can
either stay here and help out or run and hope that I never see you again."

"What do you want me to do?" The words held the slightest stutter.

"Get everyone out of here as soon as you can. Water line break; electric
bill not paid up - you make up the excuse. We're getting A.J. and bringing
her out right now so I need you to clear the way."

"Gotcha."

Turning his back on the man Mulder gestured towards the back of the club.
"Let's go."

The flashing video machines sat snugly against the far wall, the slightest
indentation of a door visible if you knew where to look. A group of
teenagers stood around the latest virtual reality machine, waving their
plastic guns around.

"Hey..." The oldest began to swear as Mulder brushed past him, suddenly
falling silent as St. George opened her jacket, displaying her own .38
prominently.

"Go. Home. Now." She hissed under her breath.

Pushing the door open Mulder looked down the dark hallway. "Great way to
rack up extra points." He slid his weapon free of the holster, holding it
down in front of him.

"Well, let's make sure that she doesn't get any extra play." Scully withdrew
her own weapon.

Warily they made their way down the hall towards the single room at the far
end, the light wooden door already slightly open with a sliver of light
poking free. Taking a deep breath Mulder nodded at his partner and kicked
the door open.

"Hey." A middle-aged woman sat at a desk in the furthest corner of the room
puffing eagerly on a cigarette. "About frigging time."

"Don't move." Mulder advanced on her. Behind them, St. George stood warily
beside the door, closing it again as she stood watch. Scully stared at the
table; mentally counting the number of small pills already packed in small
ziploc bags, two or three to each.

Putting the cigarette out in a well-used ashtray, Andrea Jones looked up at
the trio, running a hand through long dark greasy hair. "You know, it's not
like I was going anywhere."

"What?" Mulder snapped. "Look, I want to know what the hell you're doing and
who you're doing it for." He lined up the barrel of his weapon with the
stack of drugs on the table. "And don't tell me it's some sort of Good Thing
for everyone..."

"Of course not, you idiot!" Slowly pushing her chair away from the table,
she stood up; brushing ashes from her well worn concert t-shirt. "I'm the
one who sent Reggie to ya - didn't he tell you what this was all about?"

"What?" Mulder's voice wavered.

"Look, we may not have a lot of time." Jones opened the bottom drawer of her
desk, with drawing a thick sheaf of papers. "All I need is a promise that
you'll protect me and get me out of here without getting me killed."

"Okay, take a step back here." He pointed his weapon at the floor. "Reggie
Hawthorne was found dead trying to get into our office. What did you have to
do with that?"

"Reggie..." Andrea leaned against the edge of the desk, shaking her head. "I
told him to not take too much too fast - that it would burn him out way too
fast. Damned kids these days."

"You sent him to us?" Scully stepped up. "Why?"

"Because I want out of this and I had heard that you were my best bet." The
woman waved a hand at the thick stack of papers. "It's all here - who
contacted me, what they offered and how I was distributing this crap."

"Okay, as if my head wasn't rocking enough already..." St. George rubbed her
forehead with the palm of her heand. "Can we start making sense?"

Jones looked from one agent to the other. "I sent Reg to you to get me out.
What, you think they're going to let me walk out of here or any place else
with what I know?"

"What exactly do you know?" Scully asked.

The woman rapped the folder with her knuckles. "This project... I never
signed on to kill kids. That's what began to freak me out, when the bodies
started to turn up." Sitting on the edge of the desk she continued. "My job
was to recruit the kids, give them low dosage stuff; get them hooked. Then
at some point turn them over to the boys to start higher doses and start
exploiting them. They never said anything to me about killing the kids; that
they would literally burn out." She dug in the back pocket of her jeans,
withdrawing a flattened pack of cigarettes. Pulling a crushed one free, she
lit it. "Walking computers, instant geniuses. No one figured that they'd be
burning out this quickly or having this sort of crap happen to them." She
shuddered. "I had heard about you and figured you were my best bet to get
out of here alive and with this data."

"To expose them." Mulder said quietly. "You sent Reggie and he died before
he could tell me anything."

"Probably that prick Adams. He's got all sorts of crap going on." Jones took
a deep drag of the cigarette, blowing tranluscent smoke across the small
room. "He's the main reason I had to go through Reg."

"Ah..." St. George looked down at the closed door. "I think you're not the
only one smoking..." A thin whisp of white smoke had begun to creep in under
the doorframe.

"Damnit..." Mulder raced over to the door, placing his hand against the thin
wood. "Not that hot." He glanced at Scully. "Not much of a choice."

"It's Adams... he's going to kill me..." Jones shook her head. "It's not
going to work..."

Grabbing up the thick folder Scully tucked it inside her jacket, shoving the
edge of the folder into the small of her back; leaving her hands free.
"We're not going to die here."

"Ready?" Mulder looked at the three women. "Let's get going." Standing to
one side of the door, he put his hand on the doorknob. "Still cool - let's
make this fast." Twisting the knob quickly, he jerked the door open.

A burst of heat and smoke raced into the room; smothering them. Throwing his
hand across his face, Mulder took a few shallow breaths through the leather
before dashing down the hallway, hearing the women behind him. He skidded to
a halt, taking in the scene before him.

The nightclub was ablaze, one fiery tentacle curling across the roof and
down the banners like an obscene octopus as others reached out to devour
anything they could. Already there was a pile of thrashing bodies at the
front door, yelling and screaming as they pounded on the immobile wood and
metal. Frenzied clusters of teenagers raced around in circles, picking up
anything they could to attempt to break free. The few high windows were out
of reach, safety bars mocking the panicked crowd below.

"We're locked in." Spinning around, Mulder spied another group at the
illuminated Exit door, hammering uselessly at the escape. "They don't want
anyone to get out - especially you!" He gestured at Jones. "Kind of a
backhanded compliment, don't you think?"

"Let's hope that Skinner figured out that we're in a wee bit of a jam." St.
George began to cough. "But this place is going to come down pretty soon..."
She shoved the .38 back into her holster, reaching for her cell phone. As if
cued, it began to vibrate with an incoming call.

"Head back to the room." Mulder yelled over the noise. "We're not going to
get anywhere out here." He paused, seeing Scully's reaction to the pain
around her. "And if we don't get those doors open, we won't have anyone to
save."

"No, I don't think that I'm over reacting..." St. George roared into the
phone as they fought their way back to the video machines, now vacated as
their patrons raced around the dance floor seeking escape. Raising one elbow
she delivered a hockey-style check to one angry man trying to break through
the trio, reaching for Scully's arm. "But I do know that this is not a
ferschlugging..." Her words were lost as a burning beam crashed down a few
feet from them; filling the air with crimson sparks and thick black smoke.
"The boys say the back rooms seems to be a new addition or something -
they're going to try there."

Grabbing Jones Mulder pushed her back behind him, one hand around Scully's
waist as they retreated from the main room. In the distance he could see the
manager/bartender as he vainly tried to keep some sort of control over the
rioting customers, yelling at the top of his lungs as he pushed and pulled
the crowd back and forth away from each other. One young girl fell to the
ground, no more than perhaps fifteen or sixteen and was immediately
swallowed up by the crowd around her; one hand stretching up for help as the
Nike shoes rampaged around her.

********
Leo McGarry (The West Wing) : "Act as if ye have faith and faith shall be
given to you. Put it another way, fake it till you make it."
Scully: "People live with cancer. They carry on, and so will I. You know
I`ve got things to finish, to prove to myself, to my family, but for my own
reasons."


Dragons in A Bottle (5/5)
By Sheryl Nantus

"How thick do you think this wall is?" St. George pounded the back of the
office wall with one fist tentatively.

"At least one brick's worth." Mulder closed the door behind them, taking off
his jacket and jamming it at the base of the door. "That might buy us a bit
of time..."

"Right..." She yelled into the cell phone. "Now is a good time..." Suddenly
a rumbling came towards them, through the wall she had been hammering on.
Scully pushed Jones to the far side of the room, as far away as she could
from the impact.

"One more try and they may be able to get through..." Mulder growled. "And
I'm not even thinking of how much it's going to cost to get the van
fixed..."

Scully suddenly glanced towards the door, eerily wary. Shoving Jones to one
side she moved out of the way just in time as a series of shots impact
against the closed door.

"Oh, this is not good in every sense of the word." Grabbing the phone away
from St. George Mulder yelled loudly into the receiver as another barrage
splintered the wood, failing to get through.

"You know, I could be watching hockey. Or curling. Or doing cross stitch."
The Canadian pulled her own weapon out as the two agents did the same. "I
really don't need to be doing stuff like this. I could be having a fricking
snugglefest..." They could only hear her voice through the now thick black
smoke. She started to say something else but was cut off by a coughing fit.

The wall exploded behind them at the same time another barrage of gunfire
came through the door, sending debris everywhere as the confusion increased.
Scully fell to the floor as a falling beam crashed into her back, sending
her to the floor. St. George disappeared under a whirlwind of falling debris
as Jones scrambled for the relative safety of the underside of the desk,
while Mulder returned fire into the door; or where he assumed the door was.
The sharp green corner of a trash bin rammed through the wall, slowly
withdrawing as it was pulled free; a flurry of hands appearing to pull down
the shattered bricks and widen the hole. A sudden breeze of fresh air spun
through the space, carrying the smoke upwards.

"Get her out of here!" Mulder grabbed for the hysterical woman, dragging her
out from under the desk. Shoving her towards the shattered remains of the
wall he wrapped his hands around the semiconscious Scully, dragging her
upright. He shivered as the cold air sliced through his thin shirt, feeling
it in his bones.

"Mulder!" He spun around to see Skinner break through the wall, sweat
pouring off his forehead. "The place is going up - we have to get out of
here!"

"We can't leave those kids in there!" He yelled back. "We have to let them
know they can get out this way..."

With a burst of fury the door shattered inward, sending splintered wood
everywhere. Stepping forward into sight Adams levelled the shotgun at the
trio, a sooty grin on his face.

"Always hate it when Fibbies get on my turf..." He pulled the trigger before
anyone could react, sending the blast into Scully's back from across the
room. She fell forward into Mulder's arms, limp.

"Right - now I'm majorly pissed." A hand reached out of the smoke, grabbing
the hot barrel of the shotgun. "And you know what? I really don't like you
much..." Ripping the weapon free St. George tossed it behind her as she
grabbed Adams's lapels and pushed him back through the door.

"Jackie!" Skinner bellowed as he helped the delirious Jones through the
gaping hole.

Mulder picked up Scully in his arms, feeling the lightness both in his arms
and in his mind. "Let's get outside first and I'll come back for her..."

The dim wail of sirens filled the air around them as the two men staggered
free of the debris, spying the dented and half-demolished Volkswagon van not
far from where they stood; the battered and worn garbage bin a few feet
away. Frohike appeared from nowhere, waving a small fire extinguisher
around.

"We got the front door opened." He huffed, his face streaked with soot.
"Good thing we always carry boltcutters..." He looked aghast at the body
Mulder was carrying. "Oh, my God..."

"Shut up and get me some oxygen. And don't ask me where to get it." Dropping
down behind the relative safety of the van he cradled the semiconscious
woman's head in his lap. "Come on, Scully..."

As if in response she groaned, one hand dropping to reach around to her
back. Mulder grabbed ahold of it. "Don't move until I get the medics..."

"Mulder..." She whispered, opening her eyes slowly. "I'm okay... I think..."
Her hand dropped under her torn jacket, pulling loose a handful of shredded
paper speckled with blood. "Oh..." She let her head fall back into his lap.
"We're going to need a lot of tape..."

"Don't worry about that right now." He growled. "We'll get you fixed up
first."

Suddenly the building convulsed behind them as a fireball shot up into the
sky; urging the firemen on. Skinner knelt beside the pair, a hysterical
Andrea Jones still clinging to his arm. "How is she?"

Mulder shook his head. "Don't know yet. I'm willing to bet that the files
took the brunt of it, but..." He looked at the Assistant Director, suddenly
afraid to say anymore.

Teams of paramedics roamed through the crowd, seeking out the most serious
victims. A pair came over quickly, pulling a stretcher behind them. "Who's
the worst here?" The older of the two asked, quickly assessing the
situation.

"She is." Mulder gently laid his partner down on the thin mattress,
beginning to shiver as the cold air cut through his shirt. "Took a shotgun
blast into the back; her jacket and a stack of papers took the brunt of it.
He was pretty far away..." He paused. "There's a bit of blood..."

"Right." They lifted the stretcher to full height, quickly assessing
Scully's condition as another pair approached. "She may just be the luckiest
woman here tonight."

"You go with her." Skinner snarled at Mulder as Jones sat down on the other
stretcher, letting the medics dab at the blood running down her face from a
thin cut high on her forehead. "I'll stay with this one."

"And Jackie?"

Skinner glanced behind them at the burning building. "We'll do what we can
here. Besides, you know how much help she usually needs..."

Byers suddenly appeared out of the smoke and confusion, worry etched on his
usually stoic face. "It's not looking good. They've already called in two
more trucks and five more ambulances."

Getting to his feet Mulder took ahold of Scully's hand as they began to make
their way towards the relative safety of the parking lot. "Just stay with
Skinner and look for St. George." He picked his cell phone out of a pocket.
"I'll call you or you call me - just call if anything happens..."

"Mulder..." Scully mumbled. "I'm fine. I can't feel anything wrong - look, I
can wriggle my toes and everything..."

"Save your wriggling for later." He stopped at the ambulance and stood aside
as they lifted her into the back. "I'm not going anywhere."  Climbing up
into the wagon he surveyed the scene. "Just away from here..." He took the
offered blanket from the paramedic, wrapping it around his shoulders as the
doors closed and they moved off, sirens flashing.

Assistant Director Skinner looked at the two firemen treating the woman,
suddenly feeling the tiredness in his bones. "You should be fine. Looks like
nothing more than a scrape here and there." The paramedic paused. "But you
should really go to the hospital and have them check you out. Could be a
concussion or something worse."

Andrea looked at him blankly, then back to Skinner. "Are you going to come
with me?"

"If you want me to." He grunted.

Nodding, she laid down on the stretcher as the paramedics began to strap her
in, careful to not jostle her too much. Walking beside her Skinner spied
Langley staring mournfully at the front of the Volkswagon van.

"Don't worry - I'm sure your insurance will cover it." He yelled out to the
blond man. Langley looked back, mouth open.

"What insurance?"

Ignoring the response, Skinner wearily climbed into the back of the
ambulance as they began to lift Jones in. As the doors shut he suddenly he
felt a pain in the side of his neck, quickly clapping his hand over it as
the pain disappeared, replaced by a lightheadedness that rapidly spread
through his body.

"Sorry, Assistant Director." The seemingly familiar voice seemed to come
from the driver's seat as the medical equipment began to spin around him.
"Don't worry, we're not going to kill you. Not yet, anyway..."

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

"Oh, man..." The blond leaned on the side of the van, running his hand along
one deep dent. "This is going to take ages to bang out properly." He looked
up as Byers approached, his beard crusted with frost and snow.

"They're beginning to pull back." He puffed out a white plume. "I'm not sure
where she is, but she hasn't shown up at any of the ambulances yet. Nor
Adams."

"Well, she'll be okay." Langley shrugged. "Not much we can do other than
wait for word from Mulder at this point."

"Well, irregardless - it's a media madhouse around the front." Byers took
off his glasses to clean them roughly on his sleeve. "The story I'm hearing
is that a drug lab blew up inside."

"Good way to cover their tracks."

"The usual." He rubbed the bridge of his nose before replacing the glasses.
"Frohike is already checking out the reporter from Channel 4. I think he's
either angling for a date or to get access to her computer." He paused. "I'm
going to go back and see if they've found her yet."

***********

The hospital was a flurry of chaos; ambuances clogging the emergency
entrance as patient after patient was triaged and sent down various hallways
for treatment. Mulder pulled out his badge as the paramedics unloaded
Scully's stretcher.

"We're FBI - I need a doctor to check her out stat. Took a shotgun blast to
the back." He growled, ignoring the pained look his partner was giving him.

"I'm okay, Mulder..."

"You're okay when they say you're okay - not a minute before." Striding
alongside the stretcher, he banged the doors open. "And just because you
feel okay doesn't mean that you're fine - hell, you've told me that enough
times."

"But..." She laid her head back on the thin pillow, too tired to argue. A
doctor appeared in the hallway, her scrubs already streaked with blood.

"Right - curtain three and we'll check her out." She glanced briefly at the
badge. "Sorry to be a bitch, Agent... Mulder, but we're a bit busy right
now. I'll do a quick workup on your friend here but I can't guarantee gold
star treatment." The nurses swarmed around Scully, none too gently pushing
Mulder away. "Just move back and I'll be with you as soon as I can with an
update."

Flattened against the wall he began to draw deep breaths as he watched them
carefully slide Scully off the stretcher; beginning the meticulous routine
of checking her out. One nurse tossed a handful of torn paper to one side as
she continued her work.

Dropping to his knees he quickly scooped them up, tucking them inside his
inside jacket pocket as he waited. Finally the crowd dissolved from around
her, letting him in.

A thin sheet covered Scully from the neck down, the IV already running in
her left hand. In the right she clutched another cluster of paper, speckled
with blood as well as being torn and shredded in a majority of places.

"We're going to do some X-rays, but my first instinct is to say that she's
okay." The doctor turned to Mulder. "The bullets seem to have been pretty
well wasted between her jacket and the paper. She's darned lucky it was
buckshot and not a single slug; or..." She left the sentence unfinished. "I
have to move on but we'll take good care of her." With a comforting nod to
Scully, she disappeared towards another treatment area.

"Told you..." The redhead whispered wearily with a smile.

Taking the pieces of paper from her Mulder added them to the stack already
in his jacket. "We'll get the boys to try and put this back together. We can
also get Jones to help out on any parts we lost." Leaning over he tenderly
kissed her forehead. "Actually, I don't care as much for the information on
them as how they managed to save your life."

"We can dispute the irony later." She mumbled, her eyes half closed. Taking
a deep breath of the oxygen being fed to her, she continued. "Go check on
the rest of them. I'll be fine here."

"Okay." Mulder patted her hand. "But I'm not leaving here." He paused. "Not
yet, anyway."

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

"Looks like the worst is over." Frohike drew a deep swig of a water bottle
as he sat in the passenger seat of the van, staring at the wreckage. The sun
had just begun to rise over the horizon, casting a crimson shadow over the
still smoking remains. Firemen were still picking through the debris with
axes, poking at potential hot spots. Langley appeared at the window, nodding
to Byers who sat in the driver's seat.

"They found another crispy critter." He stopped, suddenly unsure of his
words. "I mean... they found another body."

"Where?" Opening the passenger door Byers slid out, feeling the weakness in
his legs. They had been all over the site, wherever a body had been
discovered. Although they knew it was unlikely that positive identification
could be made without the help of forensics, they felt the need to be there.

The trio headed towards the scene, slowing to a walk as the firemen began to
walk out of the burnt building; a covered stretcher carried between them.

"Uh..." Byers stopped the lead man, pulling out a badge from under the thick
coat. "ATF field agent - any idea who this is?"

"Well, it's kinda hard..." Not missing a step, the recovery team continued
towards the waiting ambulance. "But we found a gun nearby, so probably a cop
of some sort... or some kid with a hankering for personal protection."

"Male or female?" The words stuck in his throat as he felt the panicked
breathing of the other two men behind him.

"Hard to tell - pretty well burnt up." Dropping the stretcher down so that
they could load it onto the stretcher the fireman shrugged. "Your guess is
as good as mine."

Suddenly Frohike pulled the tarp off, taking a deep breath as he stared at
the charred body. Indignantly the paramedic pulled it back up, swearing
under his breath as he waved the trio away. The firemen retreated as well,
returning to their grim chore.

"It's not her." The Gunman let out his breath in a wheezing sigh, a shudder
running through his body. "No necklace. Remember that dragon thing she
always wears? It's not there..."

Langley was the first to speak. "Maybe it got torn off..." He looked at the
other two. "I had to say it."

Nodding his agreement Byers led them off back towards the van and the
continuing vigil.

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

Mulder sipped the cold coffee, watching the last few patients trickle in via
the ambulance bay. Suddenly out of the corner of his eye he spied a familiar
figure lying on a stretcher in the adjoining hallway. Dropping the cup in a
trash bin he walked swiftly over to verify his hunch.

"Skinner..." He stood silently by the sleeping man for a minute before
reaching out to grab a nurse's arm as she walked by. "What's wrong with him?
What happened?"

Shaking free of his grip the tall woman glared at him before picking up the
hospital chart hanging from the end of the bed. "He came in unconscious.
Seems that he sustained some sort of blow to the neck, but he's going to be
fine. Already woke up once to tell us to look for a Sculder or someone like
that."

"I'm Agent Mulder and this is Assistant Director Walter Skinner of the FBI."
The badge flashed open and closed. "I need him to be moved to a secure room
as soon as possible along with my partner."

"I'll tell the doctor immediately." She replaced the chart. "All we're
getting now are fatalities, so there should be plenty of room."

"Fatalities?" He licked his lips. "Any women?"

"Lots." She looked over her glasses at him. "Although if you're looking for
a date, may I suggest going for the living first?"

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

"I'm getting seriously bummed out..." Langley popped the tab on a fresh can
of Jolt cola as he leaned on the hood of the van. "At least Scully's going
to be fine."

"Yep, that's a good thing." Frohike nodded as he wrapped his arms around
himself, shuffling back and forth in the freshly falling snow. "Although I'd
feel better if I could say something cheerful right now." He looked towards
the vacant lot, now filled with curious onlookers and frantic parents
seeking information, along with more than a few news units doing their
pieces for the noon news. "Bet Skinner is going to figure out how to blame
that thing on us though."

"What?" Langley snorted. "Not our fault he lost her." He glanced from side
to side. "Black ops probably have us in their sights right now..."

"Oh, wait and see. I know these Marine types." Frohike shook his head.
"He'll figure something out while he's in sleepy land."

Suddenly the loud shout of a fireman broke through the frigid air. Dropping
his coke Langley began to trot towards the call, his friends just behind.
Skidding on a fresh patch of ice, he stopped short at the sawhorse barricade
at the edge of the debris.

The paramedics dashed past them, bouncing the stretcher over the shattered
remains of the nightclub as they made their way to the single fireman, hands
held over his head as he waved frantically.

The Gunmen shifted their weight from one foot to the other in an eerie
rhythm, anxiously waiting for the team to come close enough for them to see.
Suddenly a sound rose out of the small group, overwhelming the other noises
from the nearby workmen.

Snoring.

Pushing their way to the sleeping figure they stared down at her, all
exhaling deeply at the same time. Blinking rapidly she opened her eyes and
stared at them.

"Ship... out of danger?" She grinned widely, stifling a yawn with one
bandaged hand.

"Totally." Frohike grinned back. "Scully's fine - Mulder too. Skinner got
bumped, but he'll be up and busting chops soon enough." He looked up at the
paramedics. "She's probably going to sleep the entire way to the hospital."

"Craziest thing I've ever seen..." One fireman was muttering to another.
"She's lying there under a hunk of ceiling tile on a patch of floor that
didn't see a bit of flame. It's like she had a forcefield or something..."

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

"So let me get this straight." Skinner looked around the small hospital
room, buttoning his shirt up and tucking the tail into his pants. "We lost
Jones; Adams is assumed dead and most probably is and our only evidence is
so charred and torn up from a shotgun blast that it'll take months to even
get the basic idea of what was being documented." He pulled the curtain away
from around his bed, reaching for his shoes.

Mulder nodded from where he sat on Scully's bed. "That's pretty well the sum
of it." He looked at his partner. "Although that's a trade I'm not that
upset to make, to be honest."

The Assistant Director let out a weary groan as he stood upright. "I'm still
annoyed with myself for being caught like that. A rookie would have been
wise to that trick."

"It wasn't your fault, sir..." Scully shifted her head, turning to see him
clearly. "I'm just lucky they didn't think of taking me as well - otherwise
it might have turned out much differently."

"That much is true." The A.D. admitted as he walked over to the pair. "I'm
still not sure how we'll get this past Kersh. Other than making up some sort
of story that we were all partying at the same nightclub."

"Well, if he asked tell him it was all my idea." St. George appeared in the
doorway. "Not like he won't believe that, eh?"

"How are you feeling?" Mulder slid off the bed, releasing Scully's hand.

"As well as ever - got darned lucky this time." She held up her hands, showi
ng the thick bandages wrapped around both of them. "Mild burns. I've done
worse trying to cook meals for the Wookie." She looked at Scully. "You?"

"Nothing more than a few deep scratches and scrapes." The redhead chuckled.
"I think most of them are papercuts, to be honest. I should be out of here
in a few hours."

"Any idea what happened?" Skinner asked.

"Not a whit." She shrugged. "Whatever happened in there, I came out and he
didn't. The only thing I can think of is that I was saved from the fire by
freaking out at the best possible time."

Scully interrupted. "But do you think we really stopped this, or just set
them back a few weeks?" She looked out the window, one hand reaching under
to touch the bandages at the base of her spine. "Adams most certainly wasn't
working alone. And Jones, well... who's to say what they did with her?"

"That's the part that scares me." Mulder nodded. "She may well have become
her own worst nightmare."

"Insert mandatory anti-drug diatribe here." St. George scratched one hand
with the other, careful to not shift the bandages too much. "So let me get
this straight - Reggie was sent to you by Jones. He slips and dies or is
pushed over by Adams as he's trying to get in through the basement window or
get your attention without going through the front door. All to expose yet
another stupid government project." A weary sigh. "This so sucks. What, they
can't keep an eye on Enron and they can do this?"

"You do the recap for your report." Skinner picked up his coat and headed
for the door. "Just make sure you don't forward a copy to Kersh."

"And make sure you include the repairs to the van under expenses..." St.
George chuckled as she took up position in a chair by the window. "The boys
are a wee bit grumped over the dents they took shoving that trash bin."

"Tell them to hack into the system and clear the last two month's worth of
expense reports then." Mulder looked at the back of the retreating Assistant
Director. "Think he heard me?"

"Hope he didn't." Scully laid her head back on the pillow. "I'm dying for a
pizza. How long before I get cleared for discharge?"

"A few more hours." He looked from one woman to the other. "I guess it's not
the best scenario to end up with, but it's better than the alternative."

"It's not a great step forward, but I think it's a slight victory." The
Canadian looked out the window. "A few less Reggie Hawthornes is a victory
to me."

"True." Mulder smiled. "And perhaps you solved a few mysteries for the
Gunmen as well."

"Like how to unscramble the PlayBoy Channel." Scully chuckled.

"Ouch..." St. George frowned. "Methinks I may have changed the balance of
power..."

"As long as it stays on our side." He pursed his lips, suddenly thoughtful.

"I'm off to get something to drink." Getting up from her chair St. George
let out a low groan. "You know, Mulder - Scully here was trying to figure
out when to next wear those leather pants. Any ideas?"

Moving quickly towards the door she ducked the flying pillow as she
scampered into the hallway, chuckling loudly. Behind her she heard a male
voice begin a sentence then suddenly stop, as if silenced by something other
than a pillow. Grinning from ear to ear the Canadian continued on her way
out.

************ the end ************

Many thanks to my special Stalker, Tarras - who kept on asking and asking
and... well, you get the idea!
and to the Wookie who persists in telling me that it's a Good Thing to
Write...

Hope you enjoyed it!


~* Sheryl *~ I Am Canadian! Leo McGarry (The West Wing) : "Act as if ye have
faith and faith shall be given to you. Put it another way, fake it till you
make it." Scully: "People live with cancer. They carry on, and so will I.
You know I`ve got things to finish, to prove to myself, to my family, but
for my own reasons." ~*My Homepage*~