ESTANCIA, Chapter Six.
By Alanna Rabun
emmalanna@aol.com


+++++++++++++++


The cool spring breeze filtered through gauzy curtains framing open windows,
which looked out onto a verdant courtyard lit by torches and discreet
floodlights.  Scully sat on the edge of the bed and unlaced her boots, then
walked barefoot to the window, taking care to stay out of the sight of anyone
in the courtyard.  Below, a party was in full swing, the sounds of band music
and social chatter floating up toward her window.  She raised her arms above
her head and stretched, the twinges of pain in her muscles both invigorating
her and helping her to relax.  The combination of the amber hues of sunset and
the flickering candlelight made the room darker, and though she welcomed the
shadows, she reluctantly stole away from the window and walked over to the far
corner of the room to turn on a lamp.  

Shedding clothes step-by-step, once she was completely naked she stopped to
pick up the clothing, folding each item carefully then placing them on top of a
low chest of drawers.  The white of her blouse stood out against the dark
mahogany wood of the furniture, which was complemented by the polished inlaid
wood floors and the greens and blues of the spread over the four-poster bed. 
Fortunately for her, though the house had been built nearly two hundred years
earlier -- a fact of which Mrs. Pereira had spoken with pride -- the bedrooms
contained private baths, created out of old bedrooms when Barbara Pereira had
moved in after marrying her husband.  Scully stepped into the bathroom and
sighed with relief at the very modern bathtub and shower stall.  Their hostess
had thoughtfully furnished the room with a plethora of bathing products and had
hung a robe on the back of the door.  She walked over to the tub and turned the
knobs, drawing herself a bath.

In contrast to the characteristic Latin darkness of the bedroom, the bathroom
was furnished entirely in shades of white.  Scully rolled her eyes at the
impracticality, and after pouring nearly an entire bottle of bubble bath into
the running water, sank down into a white chair to wait until the tub was full.
 She closed her eyes and though her mind reflexively began to reflect over
their situation, she tried her best to clear her mind of all such thought, so
that she could simply enjoy her bath while she was afforded that brief moment
of peace.

The only thing which kept Scully from drifting off to sleep while immersed in
bubbles and warm water was the towel wrapped around her hair, keeping it from
getting wet and bleeding dye all over the pristine bathroom.  The water soothed
her tired muscles, helping her forget everything they had endured in the past
week, yet the idea that she felt so *good* worried her.  She was a doctor.  Her
self-diagnosis told her that she had no physical symptoms from her experience,
yet her intellect told her that nobody could be immersed in an ice cave with
unknown chemicals filling her mouth and intubation with a very strange
substance and not be affected, not to mention the battering she and Mulder had
taken getting out of the cave, plus the cold from their ensconcing in the
Sno-Cat.  Aware that she could do little more diagnosis without checking into a
hospital -- something she did *not* want to do in a foreign country where they
were hiding -- she resolved to get a complete physical when she got back to
D.C.  The notion of "if" did not enter her vocabulary.  She had confidence in
her own ability to save herself, and she knew that those chances increased
exponentially with Mulder by her side.

"Mulder."  She spoke his name aloud.  Perhaps their time in that hotel had
something to do with her feeling of physical well being.  As she ran a soapy
washcloth over her limbs -- the same ones he had caressed so lovingly such a
short time earlier -- she felt good.  She felt satisfied.  

It had been inevitable, she knew.  Their coming together had been anticipated
since they first met, and therefore the actual consummation shouldn't have
taken her by surprise, yet it did.  As exhilirating as it had been, she also
welcomed the surety of their new relationship.  They had been through too much
together to separate again.  Imaginings of a thousand more nights to come
warmed her as she stepped out of the bath and walked over to the heated towel
rack and dried herself off.

As she wrapped herself in the thin satin robe -- not her style, but it would
work for the circumstances -- a knock vibrated against the heavy wooden door of
the bedroom.  She walked over to it and called out "Who is it?", bracing
herself in a defensive stance in case of an unwelcome visitor.

"It's Barbara!"  The woman's voice rang out loudly through the thickness of the
door, and Scully winced slightly as she opened the door to her hostess.

The woman's appearance had changed dramatically since they had first met a few
hours earlier.  Instead of bright colors and garish makeup, her hair was swept
up in a demure chignon and she wore a cream colored shift dress, the only
extravagance being the jewels glittering at her throat and earlobes.  

Off Scully's look, the woman replied, "Gotta impress the guests, right?"  

"Right."  Scully smiled her response, though didn't laugh as was expected. 
"Thank you for the bathrobe, Mrs. Pereira."

"Don't mention it!  Though I'll send someone out in the morning to get you some
better clothes.  I was in Agent Mulder's room while he was unpacking, and you
sure don't have very much, do you?" 

"I'm just fine, but thank you very much for your offer."  Scully didn't want to
give the woman any ideas;  after seeing her taste in clothing, she feared that
whatever her servant brought back, it would probably contain colors and styles
she would never wear, even in worse conditions than these.  

"Just let me know if you need anything, okay?"  Barbara carried a huge tray in
her hands, and swept past Scully as she walked over to a large table and set
down the tray.  "I brought you two something to eat;  figured you'd be hungry
after all you two have been through."  Sure enough, the tray was heaped with
fruit, breads, and what looked to be steak.  "So, tell me," the woman looked at
Scully with glittering eyes, "was it exciting?"  

"Exhausting is more like it,"  Scully replied, trying to keep her voice free of
any tones which might encourage the woman to ask more questions.

Too late.  "Well, Melvin,"  Melvin? "has told me *all* about the things you two
do.  It must be *so* exciting to work for the F.B.I.!"  

Scully picked up a glass and poured some water.  "I thought you didn't like the
United States Government?"  

"Oh, I do, don't worry.  Damn C.I.A. bastards murdered my poor late husband,
God bless his soul." Despite her confessions of personal tragedy, her smile
didn't fade.  "But I don't hate you and Agent Mulder.  Y'all are *heroes*, I
hope you know," she whispered conspiratorially.

"Why do you say that?"  Scully asked, though she had a feeling she knew the
answer, and resolved to chastise the Gunmen when she got home, for whatever
they had said or printed about her and Mulder. 

Barbara leaned in closer, her voice less bemused and more serious.  Sadder. 
'Because you're after the government's asses, Agent Scully.  When Melvin called
and asked if I could offer you two a place to say, of *course* I said yes! 
Anything you two need -- money, information --" her voice dropped again, "even
if it's *illegal*, I'm your woman.  Just ask, y'hear?  Anything I can do to
help you two, you just let me know.  It would mean a great deal to me." She
glanced away, and Scully could sense some deep pain and vulnerability under her
brassy surface.  She then saw the woman smother the emotion, and turn back to
the agent.  "And don't forget to put in a good word with Melvin, okay?"  The
older woman giggled.

Scully stifled her own laugh.  Melvin Frohike had an admirer?  She was tempted
to play matchmaker, if only to get the old man off her back.  "I'll be sure to
do that, Mrs. Pereira."  

Her hostess stood up straight and turned toward the door.  "Well, I'd best get
back to my little party.  I'll knock on Agent Mulder's door and let him know
that I brought you two dinner, okay?"

"Thanks."

She walked over to the door with Barbara, and just as Scully made to close the
door behind her, the woman turned for one last comment.  "That man is
*gorgeous*, but he isn't looking too good.  He needs a good night's rest, I
think.  You take care of him, okay?"  She winked at Scully, and then she was
gone.  

Scully closed the door firmly and leaned against it, catching her breath and
shaking her head before walking back over to the food.  The sight of the
platter was very welcome, and she picked up a tray and began to pile fruit upon
it before changing her mind.  She'd wait for Mulder to get there.  

As if on cue, she heard a knock on her door just a few minutes later.  Before
she had a chance to get into defensive stance, he called out, "It's me,
Scully."  

Letting himself in, he crossed the room to the window, and glanced out, keeping
out of sight of the crowd below.  "You have a view.  I'm jealous."  

"Why?"  she asked, while setting their dinner out on her bed.  

He turned from the window and walked over to her.  "I get to see a guard wall.
No fun in that."  

"Depends on what you do with the wall."

"Like climb over it?"  He sat down on the bed, setting the plate in front of
his crossed legs.  

"Mulder, the wall was covered in broken glass.  I don't think you can afford
any more cuts and scrapes."  Scully took a bite of the melon on her plate, the
cool fruit sliding over her tongue.

"Yes, doctor."  They spent the rest of their meal in silence, until they
finally faced empty plates.  Stomachs full, Mulder stood and stretched.  "Good
music."  The sounds of the tango filtered through the curtain into their room.

"Yeah," she murmured in reply.  

Scully took the plates and walked over to the table, setting them down next to
the empty tray.  As she poured herself another glass of water, she felt
Mulder's hand on her shoulder.  His breath warmed her ear as he whispered, "I
can't do the tango, but we can certainly try...."  

Mulder's voice trailed off as he took one of her hands and pulled her into his
arms.  One arm wrapped around her back and the other cushioned her hand between
their bodies as they swayed slightly, not bothering to keep time with the
music.  She gave herself over to the peace of the sensation, letting herself be
lulled into comfort in his arms.  The soft motion of his thumb grazing over the
small of her back sent tingles up her spine, accompanied by the kiss he placed
on the top of her head. 

"I'm tired," she whispered.

"Me too," her lover replied.

They made their way over to the bed.  He stepped out of his shoes and she shed
her robe, letting it fall on a heap on the rug.  Mulder drew back the bedspread
and then slipped under the sheets, where she joined him and fit his body to
hers.  Thoughts of their hostess finding them together did not matter as
fatigue washed over her and she soon fell asleep, comforted by the security of
his presence.


+++++++++++++++


The world was dark and cold, so cold.  The chill froze her limbs as she slowly
became aware of her surroundings.  As she tried to move her legs, they refused
to obey and panic swirled up through her body.  She tried to gasp but couldn't
force oxygen through her mouth or nose, and the desperation of her fighting
instinct led her to try desperately to kick and push, only to be met by a cold
and unbudging glass on all sides.  

Buried alive.  Oh, God!

She wanted desperately to scream, to fight, as her body succumbed to paralysis.
 Her eyes opened wide in terror and she knew that this would be her death,
trapped in such a dreadfully cold morass.  And though her voice refused to
obey, her mind continued to scream as she felt death overtake her.

Scully awoke with a start.  Blinking rapidly, she inhaled deep, panicked
breaths, trying to fill her lungs with as much oxygen as they would contain. 
She finally stopped breathing long enough to swallow, and the act made her
painfully aware of her scratchy throat, sore from past screams.  Her teeth
chattered from the memory of cold.  As she tried to adjust her eyes to the
darkness of the room, she felt the urgency of Mulder's grasp, holding her tight
and running her hair with one hand in a soothing motion.

"Shh, Scully, I'm here," he whispered.  "I'm here.  You're safe."  Her heart
still breathing rapidly and her lungs still sucking in air, she relaxed
slightly in his arms, yet the sleep which she had craved before was long gone. 
They lay there together until their breathing evened, though their eyes never
shut in fatigue.  And though her back was to him, Scully never saw the look of
terror and guilt painted on his face.


+++++++++++++++


When Scully awoke the next morning, the sun was already casting the room in a
blaze of glorious morning sunlight.  Sleep had finally come as the first watery
grey hues of sunrise were peeking through the curtains, and the dreamless sleep
had come as a relief, as she had almost been afraid to fall asleep again, lest
the nightmares return.  She blinked a few times to adjust her eyes to the
sunlight and, sitting up in bed, she tamped down the rush of blood to her head
as she watched Mulder over at the table, where the previous evening's tray had
been replaced by another tray of fruit and orange juice.  

"Mmm.. what time is it?"  her voice filtered through her still-scratchy throat.
 

Her partner turned to look at her.  "Almost noon."  

That nearly got her out of bed.  "Good Lord!  Why did you let me sleep so late?
 We have too much to do."  

A look of compassion showed in his face.  "You needed your sleep.  You hungry?"
 

She stood, testing her weary legs.  "Yeah, I think so."  Scully picked the robe
up off the floor, then wrapped it around her body, tying it loosely.

"Good."  He placed some food on a plate and walked over to her.  Scully noticed
that he was wearing fresh clothing and his hair looked wet from a recent
shower.  "Barbara informed me that even though Argentinians don't usually eat
big breakfasts, we were American and by God we'd have eggs and bacon."  He set
the plate on the table and she took a seat in front of it.

"This does look good.  Have you already eaten?" She picked up a fork and pushed
the food around her plate for a moment, before spearing a bite of scrambled
eggs.

"Yeah, about an hour ago."  He sat down across from her.  "I was just talking
to Barbara about how we can get back home." 

Scully took a bite of the bacon and looked up at him.  "What did she have to
say?"  

"She told me that the fake passports should be getting here this afternoon.  I
thought we could wait for them then I'd go get us plane tickets."  

"Okay.  But we can't just get out of here on fake passports."

"Right, Scully."  He swiped a piece of bacon from her table.  "We also need to
get some fake papers -- ID cards, entry visas, and some other paperwork. 
Barbara has a friend who she says can get those for us."

She speared another bit of eggs with her fork, then swallowed them.  "I'll go
buy the tickets, then, since we'll have to use cash.  How much will it take?"

"I'd suggest taking at least three thousand, just in case.  It could cost more,
though, since we're trying to get these on short notice.  I'll go ahead and
call the Gunmen and ask them to wire us more money."  

"Got it.  Should we try to fly out tomorrow?"  Scully knew that she wanted to
get back home as soon as possible.

Mulder stood and walked back over to the bed, straightening up the covers. 
"You might want to book us for the day after tomorrow.  I don't know how long
it will take us to get the papers we need."

Scully stood and walked over to the dresser and rummaged through the pile of
clothing to find something to wear out that afternoon.  Even though they had no
idea just what awaited them, they were finally going *home*.  Despite the
dangers, that simple thought buoyed her.


+++++++++++++++


The traffic in downtown Buenos Aires was unreal, worse than anything she had
seen in New York or Washington.  Scully's taxicab had not moved in five
minutes, by her estimation, and she was becoming more than a little stir crazy.
 Shifting in her seat yet again, she turned and looked out the window, at the
people hurrying by on the sidewalk, heading back to work after siesta.  All the
sleep she had gotten in the past few days had Scully in a hyper-tuned state of
alertness, and her mind was working overtime trying to figure out their course
of action.  First step:  airline tickets.

Finally, the waiting became too much.  

"AquĦ, gracias,"  she spoke sharply, bits of Spanish coming back to her from
earlier such trips.  The driver turned around to face her, eyebrows raised
slightly, then reached over and stopped the meter.  She tried to figure out how
much the ride had cost, but since she only had American money and not pesos,
she did a quick estimation and handed the man two twenty-dollar bills.  "Accept
Ud. d˘lares?" 

The man grinned, his expression saying dollars would work just fine.  Scully
got the impression she'd doubled the actual fare, but at that point she didn't
really care.  He unlocked her door and she stepped out of the taxi, into the
swirl of people on the sidewalk.

The neighborhood she had requested to be driven to was a large shopping
district called Florida, recommended by their hostess.  Scully had to step off
the curb to get a better look down the street, and she cursed her short stature
under her breath.  She didn't see any storefronts which identified themselves
as travel agencies, so she decided to keep walking.  

As she traversed the sidewalk, she glanced from side to side and behind her,
then out of the corner of her eye she noticed a man who stopped and continued
wherever she did.  Scully's sixth sense -- developed shortly after she had been
partnered with Mulder -- immediately told her she was being followed.  She
pivoted on her heels rapidly to find the man only about six feet away from her.
 

Trying to lose him, she stopped at the next intersection and crossed the
street, not looking back until she was completely across.  She turned ninety
degrees and crossed the perpendicular street, then continued about twenty yards
before glancing behind her. 

The man was still there.

Next to her was a storefront -- a jewelry store.  She slipped inside, then
glanced around the nearly-vacant shop.  Walking slowly, she pretended to peruse
the jewels for sale, waiting a few minutes until she could re-emerge.  Just as
she thought she was safe, she walked through the door to find the man entering.
 Nearly colliding with him, she deliberately brushed past with a harsh motion,
sending him tumbling backward hard against the wooden door frame.  Out of her
peripheral vision, she saw him right himself then continue after her.  

Scully could feel the blood pounding in her ears.  She knew the most foolish
action she could take would be to start running -- she needed to blend in as
much as possible and not draw attention to herself.  On the other hand, if she
kept as she was, she stood a great chance of the man pulling her into an alley,
where anything could happen.  So, tensing her muscles and standing up straight,
she walked straight to the man, wanting to confront him in a public place where
hopefully he wouldn't try anything.  If that failed, she had a wealth of
martial arts knowledge to rely upon.  He was of average build -- taking him out
would hopefully be fairly easy.

Or she could scream.

In the space of two steps, they were face to face.  Before she could say
anything, the man spoke quietly in a perfect American accent.

"Agent Scully."  

She tried to control her gasp at being recognized.

"Who the hell are you?!"

He smiled slightly, knowingly.  "My name is Jacob Smith."  Off her look, he
continued.  "I was there when you and your partner were rescued in Antarctica. 
I can help you get home."  He paused.  "I can tell you everything you want to
know."  


+++++++++++++++

END (6/10)

Estancia, Chapter Seven.
By Alanna Rabun
emmalanna@aol.com

+++++++++++++++

Despite its abundance of rooms and the lovely sundrenched courtyard, the
Pereira estate was becoming oppressive.
 
Mulder cursed his complete dependency on people thousands of miles away for his
escape from Argentina, even as he silently thanked them for all their efforts
on his behalf.  The transport papers the Gunmen were supposed to be faxing him
were taking forever to come through.  In frustration he'd finally called them
nearly an hour before, but they told him that they were waiting to hear back
from the contact who was drawing up the fake papers, and that when they were
received, they would fax them to Mulder.  Shortly after Scully had left that
afternoon the friend of Barbara Pereira's who would draw up the other
documentation they would need had come over.   He told Mulder that the papers
would take a little while to create because of the need to make them look
American.  He promised that they would be ready by the next afternoon at the
latest.

Which left Mulder to wait.

After listening to what probably amounted to Barbara Pereira's entire life
story and nearly drowning in the tea and bitter-tasting mate she had offered
him, he claimed a need for fresh air and ventured out into the courtyard.  He
examined every flower and every tree, then estimated the length and width of
the area until he finally went back indoors to find that Scully had still not
returned.

Mulder knew she could take care of herself, yet given their circumstances, he
couldn't help but worry.

And wait.

+++++++++++++++

Every muscle in Scully's body tensed.  Fight or flight -- which will it be,
Dana?  The question mocked at her mind.

She met Jacob Smith's stare, challenging him to try something there on the busy
street.  His face remained calm and he raised a hand in a conciliatory gesture.
 

"There's a sidewalk cafe across the street, Agent Scully.  Since I know you
want us to remain in public, we could sit there and talk."  He paused.  She
continued to silently challenge him.  "I'm not going to harm you.  I'm here to
help you."  

"Why should I believe you?"  Her voice was hard, deliberate.

"What would I have to gain?  If I or my colleagues," she noticed his slight
pause before the last word, "wanted to kill you, we could have done so a dozen
times over.  I could have shot you as you left your hotel yesterday morning, or
even made that plane crash after it left Bariloche.  We don't want you dead."

She fought to keep from showing her surprise at his knowledge of their
itinerary.  Scully weighed her options.  If she tried to walk away, he'd know
exactly where she was going and it'd be a matter of time -- minutes, even --
before he hunted her down again.  His next approach might not be so supposedly
benevolent.  If she sat down with him in a very public place, she might be able
to get some goddamn answers for a change.  And if he tried anything, she was
more than capable of defending herself.

"Okay," she assented, then pointed toward a sidewalk cafe across the street. 
Gesturing at him to go there, she said, "After you."  

A bemused look on his face, he moved to the intersection and crossed the street
while she followed two paces behind.  She led the way to the cafe and claimed a
table at the periphery of the blocked-off area.  They sat down, neither saying
a word, and waited until a server came over to take their drink orders.  She
asked for tea and Jacob Smith ordered something she didn't recognize in
Spanish.  The woman gone, Scully spoke.

"Who are you, really?" 

"The name I use is Jacob Smith.  I'm not sure I ever had a 'real' name, not
that it matters anymore."  She raised an eyebrow and he pursed his lips as if
unsure of what else to say.  "I believe you've met one of... us before.  Do you
remember Jeremiah Smith?" 

Oh yes, she did.  She remembered the older, oddly benevolent man, who worked
with Them and could heal with a touch.  "Are you--"

"An alien?"  The grin which spread over his face made him look young,
impetuous, like a college boy on spring break.  "Ah, let's just say I'm not
from around here."  

Scully remained silent, tacitly urging him to continue. 

"I'm also a healer.  A 'shapeshifter', I think you call us.  Me, I prefer
'chameleon'.  Has a much more fascinating ring to it.  I can become anyone I
want to.  I could leave here and come back two minutes later and you wouldn't
recognize me.  It's really quite fun to play around with." He settled back in
his chair.  

Scully got the impression he would tell her the secrets of the universe if she
remained silent long enough.  Though his boyish charm was undeniable, she
didn't have the time or patience for his musings.  "What do you know about what
happened to us in Antarctica?"  

Not missing a beat, he continued.  "I was with Schweig when you were rescued. 
I was the one who first noticed what had happened.  They expected you two to
die, you know."

She knew.

"Why rescue us, then?"

"Schweig had his reasons.  So did I.  To be honest, you probably wouldn't have
lived at all had we not come along.  So I did my magic."  He moved his hands as
if waving a magic wand.  

Scully stared back at him.  "We weren't that close to death.  We would have
lived."  Yet, remembering how close they *had* been to death while they
huddled, she gave lie to her words.

"Look, Agent Scully, you're a medical doctor.  Explain to me how all that
damage to your bodies melted away."  Smugness mixed with pride mixed with
exasperation on his face.  "I saw the two of you.  On the helicopter ride back
from Antarctica, I examined you so we could see just how bad things were.
Schweig took photographs -- I'll have to show them to you sometime." 

She winced at the idea of photographs of the two of them being somewhere out
there.  "So you healed us?"  She didn't bother to hide the skepticism in her
voice.  

"Ma'am, I could go around this cafe and cure everyone.  That man over there,"
he pointed, "heart disease.  The waitress has chronic asthma -- she really
shouldn't be out in this pollution.  A car could crash right in front of us and
I'd be the jaws of life.  But I'm selfish.  People die.  I don't want to
circumvent that, draw attention to myself.  Sure, I could just change my
appearance and walk away with nobody the wiser, but part of being like me is
selective application."

The waitress brought their drinks and she took a sip of her tea, never taking
her eyes off Smith.  "You haven't answered my question."

Jacob Smith nearly finished his drink in one gulp.  "You ever tried this stuff?
 It's mate.  Kind of like tea, but with different leaves.  Want some?"  She
shook her head slowly.  "Okay, sorry.  Your question.  Do you want the nutshell
or epic version?"

"I want the truth."  Her voice was hard even as the warm tea slid down her
throat.  

"Once upon a time..."  He winked at her.  "Seriously, it basically goes back to
the 1930s.  Better get comfortable."  

She glared.

"Do you remember the German Appeasement movement in Europe before the war?"

"I remember learning about it in school, yes."  The tea grew cold before her as
she paid close attention to his words.

"Well, Schweig, Lord Sommers, and a couple named Albertina and Josef Klein met
Cambridge.  Sommers' father was one of the architects of Churchill's
Appeasement policy, and the younger ones all became involved in the movement. 
I don't think it had anything to do with anti-Semitism, as the Kleins were
German Jews who had emigrated to Britain to go to university.  Sometime during
the war, the Kleins went to America and Schweig went back to Germany.  He was a
scientist and the Nazi party gave him the opportunity to do research in the
concentration camps."  Though the man before her said the words with little
emotion, a shudder of disgust coursed through Scully's body.

"After the war, as you can imagine, Schweig had to get the hell out of there. 
He came down to Argentina and nobody was the wiser. I'm still not quite sure
how he managed to escape the Nuremberg trials, but the man was brilliant."  His
voice quieted down with what Scully assumed was respect for the man.  "Anyway,
so Sommers was back in Britain after a stint in the RAF and the Kleins were in
America.  Because of their involvement in the appeasement movement, they were
invited to join an organization which was forming.  A sort of cabal of European
intellectuals, politicians, and scientists, in response to what was apparently
an extraterrestrial threat."  He grinned.

"And that would be you."

"Bingo!"  Smith looked extremely pleased with himself.  Scully wanted to slap
him.  

"So how do Mulder and I fit into all this?"

"Be patient, Agent Scully.  Basically, Sommers took a leadership role -- hey, I
think you've met him before.  Tall, distinguished-looking Englishman?"

Scully recognized the description.  It had been some time since she'd come into
contact with him, but the memory was burned into her mind.  She remembered
Mulder having mentioned they'd met and he'd given her directions to Antarctica.
 She didn't trust the man one bit, though she did have to owe him a debt of
gratitude for giving Mulder the information to save her life.

"Okay.  He and Schweig were conspirators of a sort, though Schweig never really
took an active role in the organization." 

"What about the Kleins?"

"Well, tell me -- what all do you know about Agent Mulder's family?"  He
quirked an eyebrow in imitation of her.

She flinched.  "What do you want to tell me about them?"  She could sense where
Smith was going with this line of questioning.

The waitress passed by and Smith waved at her and asked for a glass of mineral
water.  Turning back to Scully, he said, "Before the Kleins left England, they
had a daughter, named Albertina Katherine."  He stressed the girl's first name,
and Scully got the connection.  Albertina -- Teena.  "When she grew up she
married a man named Mulder.  I was there on their wedding day back in '59. 
Aged well, haven't I?  I bet you can guess the rest, Agent Scully."

Scully looked at him, processing the information.  She couldn't say she was
surprised -- though she'd only met Mrs. Mulder a few times before, something
about the woman's demeanor had made her uneasy.  "Thank you very much for the
history lesson, Mr. Smith, but just how are you involved in all this?"

"I came down here about ten years ago to work for Schweig.  Always admired the
old man, and wanted to get away from that mess up north.  It may be hard to
believe, but Sommers and Schweig have been on your side.  They don't like what
you do but they don't want you and Agent Mulder dead.  I think they're pretty
fond of Fox, seeing as how he's Albertina and Josef's grandson.  You too, Agent
Scully."

She wasn't sure she wanted those people to be fond of her.  "How did you find
out where Mulder and I were?"

"Oh, I was working at an Australian research base at the time.  Anything to
keep me from being bored.  Did you know that that ship taking off set off
seismic waves equalling an 8.0 earthquake?  I had to go through all sorts of
hell to keep word of that getting off.  The price we pay, I suppose."

"Like killing innocent people?"  Scully's voice shot daggers.

Jacob Smith's expression changed in a heartbeat from lighthearted to deadly
serious.  "I do what needs to be done, Agent.  Just like you and Mulder."

"We do not kill."

"You do other things."  He retorted.

They stared at each other for long moments, as innocent passersby moved around
them, oblivious to the intrigue permeating their world.  For not the first
time, Scully wanted to stop and walk away from it all, to leave and never look
back. 

But they still had too much to do, to learn.  To expose.

Her thoughts went back to Mulder, and wondered how he was doing with procuring
the travel documentation.  She suddenly remembered she still hadn't bought the
airline tickets, and made to leave.  "Do you have anything else to tell me, Mr.
Smith?"  She pulled out a few small bills from her pocket and put them on the
table.  

He looked up at her.  "I haven't even begun to tell you everything you need to
know, Agent Scully."  

"Mulder and I don't have the time for me to sit here and listen to your version
of the truth."  She stood and looked down at Smith.

"Leave if you want,"  he said with warning in his voice.  "But don't go back to
D.C."

She froze.  "Why not?"

"If you think you're not safe down here, it's worse for you and Agent Mulder up
there."  

Scully stared at him, imprinting his face into her memory, but knowing that the
next time she saw him, he would look different.  Turning on her heel, she left
the cafe and walked to the travel agency she'd seen earlier.

To hell with his warnings.  She and Mulder were going home. 


+++++++++++++++


The sight of Scully walking up the front driveway to the house was like a
vision to Mulder.  He watched from the window of the front living room as she
was let through the front gate by the guard, and he left the room to meet her. 
As he walked into the hallway, she looked over at him, and he saw tension
etched on her face.  

"Everything okay, Scully?"  

She straightened her shoulders and curved her mouth in a slight smile.  "I'm
fine."

Her standard answer.  He sighed and placed his hand on her shoulder, feeling
her bunched muscles under his fingertips.  "C'mon, let's go up to your room and
I'll tell you what I found out."  She nodded and they walked over to the main
staircase.  She kept her distance all the way up and didn't move close to him
again until he'd shut the door behind her.  Mulder watched her walk over to the
bed and sit on the edge.  

She looked distant, lost in her own thoughts.  

"What's wrong?"

Scully shook her head slightly and smiled slightly.  "Sorry, nothing."  Looking
up at him, she asked, "What did you find out today?" 

He sat down on the bed behind her and began rubbing her shoulders.  Scully
tilted her head back and her hair brushed against his hands, the sensuality of
the motion sending tingles down his arms.  "We should have all the paperwork we
need by tomorrow afternoon."  He made a rolling motion on her shoulders with
his hands and was rewarded with a low moan from her throat.  

"Mmm....  that's good, Mulder."  He felt her deep breath in his hands.  "I got
us a flight back to D.C. via Miami.  It leaves the day after tomorrow, at 9
AM."

"Good."  Mulder moved his hands down her back, his thumbs digging into her
shoulderblades as she flexed them beneath his hands.  "I talked to the Gunmen. 
Faxed them a copy of that FBI fax we found.  They're tracing the headers right
now."

She didn't reply.  He felt her giving herself over to the sensation, and he
loved the power her simple movements made him feel.  Once again he cursed the
men toying with their lives;  if they knew just what a rare and amazing
creature this woman was, they would never dare touch her.  They would never use
her to get to him.  They could have him instead.  Anything they wanted, just to
keep her safe.

Behind her, he quickly shed his shirt and then moved his hands around to her
front, managing to unbutton her shirt sight unseen.  Pulling it off of her, he
unfastened and removed her bra, then put both on the bed beside them.  He
leaned into her body and felt himself growing hard at the sensation of her soft
skin against his chest.  Their breathing deepened as he moved his hands over
her stomach and up to gently knead her soft breasts.  

His dear, precious creature.

Mulder's mouth was drawn to her warm skin like a magnet.  He placed soft, light
kisses over her shoulderblades and she tilted her face to meet his, kissing him
deeply as if she could move into his soul through his mouth.  She turned in his
arms and pushed down her skirt and panties before moving to lie on top of him. 
They kissed each other for ages -- soft and deep, light and probing.  Content
with the simplicity of the touch, that they could just kiss one another without
bees or villains intervening, the only threat their own inner demons.  

Some moments later, in the midst of their passion, she whispered, "I love you."

Tears rose to Mulder's eyes.  He would do anything for this woman -- his lover
-- to whom he owed his sanity, his quest, his life.  Their love kept them sane
in this world, where they could be killed at any instant and where demons came
after them from all directions.


+++++++++++++++


Scully finished buttoning her shirt and stood in front of the mirror, smoothing
down her hair.  

She was glowing.

A smile spread over her face as she looked at herself.  She could easily chalk
it up to great sex, but she knew it was more Mulder than simply sex.  He made
her glow.  Scully caught his reflection in the mirror as he got out of bed and
stretched, his burnished gold skin beautiful as it stretched over taut muscles.
 She swallowed hard and tried to compose herself.  If Mrs. Pereira hadn't know
they were lovers when she invited them into her house, she'd know now.  

"Mulder?"  She realized she hadn't told him about her encounter with Jacob
Smith.  To be honest, she wasn't sure she wanted to tell him -- certainly not
everything.

"Yeah?"

"I meant to tell you this earlier, but...." her voice trailed off as she saw
his grin in the mirror.  "While I was out I was followed by that man who was
with Schweig when he picked us up in Antarctica."

Mulder stopped and stood very still.  She turned to face him.  "What did he
say, Scully?"

She crossed the room to face him.  "He tried to talk to me.  I managed to avoid
him, for the most part."

His face darkened.  "What aren't you telling me?"

"No!  I'm... he..."  Why was she so damn flustered all of a sudden?  "He's a
shapeshifter, like Jeremiah Smith was.  He told me that he and Schweig had been
tracking us for some time, and that he'd been the one who healed us when we
were rescued."

"Healed us?"

"Yes.  I'm not sure that I believe him, though."  He began to get dressed, and
when he looked away to find his clothes she glanced down, feeling guilty for
keeping the information about his family from him.  But they already had too
much to worry about without letting this distract him.  She told herself she
was doing this for his benefit, but that didn't really assuage her guilt.  "He
also told me that we shouldn't go back to D.C., though he didn't say why."  

"That's all he said, Scully?"

She made herself look him in the eye.  She had never been a good liar and he
could see right through her, but he seemed to believe her when she said, "Yes,
that's all."  

"Okay."  He finished dressing in silence.  Finally, they made their way
downstairs to dinner, the guilt her other, unwelcome companion.


+++++++++++++++

END (7/10)

Estancia, Chapter Eight.
By Alanna Rabun.
emmalanna@aol.com


+++++++++++++++


Pedro Magallanes laughed at his compadres.

They paced around the small, dark room, chattering nervously in English.  He
merely sat back in his wooden chair, a bemused expression on his face at the
chaos around him.  Dammit, Magallanes knew that operatives were scarce right
now, what with all the various projects happening all over the world, but he
would have thought they could have found two more competent agents to assist
him.

Whatever the two other men were discussing -- Magallanes spoke perfect English
but deliberately tuned out their chatter -- they seemed to have come to some
sort of resolution, and they took seats at the table.  

The shorter one opened his mouth.  "So, what's the plan, Sir?"

Magallanes stood and walked around to stand behind the man, trying to
intimidate him with the power of his presence.  He could make men with twice
his age and experience sweat, simply because of what he knew and what he could
do to them.  These two were proving to be no exception.

"Certain... people are talking.  They must be silenced." 

The tall man -- his dark eyes casting anachronisms with hair which was probably
under the influence of peroxide -- turned to look up at him, and Magallanes
glared back, letting him know that such brazen displays were simply Not Done.

"The operation begins tomorrow, 1100 hours.  Be prepared to meet here for
debriefing an hour before."  He appraised them one last time, then barked,
"Dismissed."

The men nearly scurried out of the room.  Magallanes pulled a bottle of whiskey
out of his knapsack and opened it reverently.  Pouring a tumbler full of the
liquid, he downed it slowly, contemplatively.  His winter had been long and
boring, full of paperwork and pathetic little missions -- he hadn't even left
the southern hemisphere.  Glancing back over the instructions his superiors had
faxed him, he smiled.

Tomorrow would be perfect.  

He was back in business.


+++++++++++++++


"You're looking gorgeous this evening, Dana!"

Since when had this woman decided to call her "Dana"?  Mulder wondered.  Next
thing he knew, she'd be calling him "Fox".  

"Thank you very much, Mrs. Pereira, and I want to tell you again how much we
appreciate all the assistance you've given us."  That was his Scully -- the
voice of diplomacy and graciousness, at least, in situations like these. 
Still, Mulder could see the strain behind her words.

They each took seats at the large mahogany table, where a large dinner was
spread for them.  Mulder was starving as much from the events of the day as his
lovemaking with Scully just a short time earlier, and had been frustrated when
their hostess informed them that dinner would be at her customary time of 9:30
PM.  He would have simply requested she send them up some food so that he and
his partner could eat in private, but Pereira made a point of mentioning that
she had turned down a dinner invitation so that they could "get to know  each
other, and I want to hear *all* about what has been happening to you two!"

How does one explain to a naive, overexcited woman that shadow forces want you
dead and that they will stop at nothing to make the world safe for
extraterrestrials?  Mulder decided that avoidance of the topic altogether was
the best course of action.

He remained silent during the first course of the meal, as Scully deftly
steered the conversation away from the two of them, inquiring about Pereira's
life in Argentina and then finally about her late husband.  The woman's
conspiratorial whisper about her husband's murder took them through the main
course and into the dessert of fresh fruit.  She finally stopped talking and
looked up at him.  "Goodness, I forgot to ask how your day went!"

"We got the tickets and we're waiting for the papers to come through."  Best
keep the description vague.

She smiled.  "Oh, that's fortunate.  So you're leaving the day after tomorrow?"
 

Mulder watched his partner finish her melon and reply, "Yes, on an early
flight."

"Well, then I'll have my driver take you to the airport."

Scully smiled her thanks and Mulder followed suit.  He pointedly glanced up at
the antique clock above the mantle, then said, "It's getting late.  We'll see
you in the morning, Mrs. Pereira."  

Their hostess stood to bid them goodnight, kissing Scully on each cheek before
she walked upstairs, then kissed Mulder's cheeks, whispering, "Y'all sleep
well,"  then winked.  

Mulder gave the woman a half smile, bristling at her obvious pleasure with her
powers of perception.  He returned her salutations and headed down the hallway
to the main staircase, where Scully was waiting for him.  As they climbed the
staircase, he said in a low stage whisper, "She knows about us."  

Scully was silent for a few steps, then replied, "So long as she doesn't tell
the Gunmen."  

"Probably too late for that.  Well, it was bound to happen sooner or later."  

They reached his room and she sat on his bed while he changed out of his
clothes, slipping on some pajama bottoms Pereira had given him the night
before.  "Speaking of the Gunmen, are you going to call them tomorrow, or are
they going to call us?"  she asked.

"They're calling us.  Better chance of a secured line that way."  He finished
changing and they walked across the hall to her room.  

Having no nightclothes of her own, Mulder watched, bemused, as she shed her
clothes and slipped on the tank top of his which she had claimed as her own. 
They moved into the bathroom and stood side by side as they brushed their teeth
and washed their faces.  The simple domesticity of the act charmed him -- just
a few short days after becoming lovers, they were already in danger of becoming
an old married couple. 

That was, assuming they lived long enough to get back to "normal".  

After they were finished, he slipped into the bed and set the small
old-fashioned alarm clock on the bedside table for 7 AM.  But instead of
getting into bed next to him, he found Scully kneeling next to the bed, her
hair bowed in prayer.  Mulder was certainly surprised, having seldom seen
Scully turn to her God for guidance.  But rather than speaking his surprise
aloud, he remained silent until she crossed herself in completion, then moved
up next to him.  

Turning to face him, Scully murmured, "I think we need all the help we can
get."  Her small body settled in next to his.  

Mulder reached up and switched off the lamp, then let the long shadows from the
window settle over his body.  Looking up at the tiles and beams of the ceiling,
he mouthed his own plea to whomever might be looking down on them.

"Keep her here with me.  Keep us safe until we get home."  

Sleep did not come to either of them for quite a long time as they held one
another close, grateful that now they could find comfort from their fears in
one another.  


+++++++++++++++

Unlike the previous morning, Scully was wide awake for a while before the alarm
eventually rang.  She slipped out of Mulder's embrace and showered quickly,
then put on her last set of clean clothes.  As Mulder remained sleeping, she
decided to steal downstairs and find them some breakfast so they could eat in
privacy.  

When she reached the bottom, she found a maid scurrying through the entryway,
who then stopped short when she caught glimpse of the American.  

"Ay, senora!  Un mensaje para Ud."  The woman hand Scully a sealed envelope
before hurrying along her way. 

Scully opened the envelope carefully, making sure to touch only the edges of
the paper and rip as little as possible.  The message inside was written in a
looping, elegant script.  

"Sr. Mulder,

"It is not safe for me to go to the house of Sra. Pereira.  Please you and your
lady friend meet me at La Plaza Naciones Unidas at 12 hours today.  Both you
must come to get your documents.

"Sr. Granados."

She sighed deeply.  Would the complications never end?  Holding the envelope in
her fingertips, she went to the kitchen and asked the cook for some bread and
juice.  The woman smiled and piled a tray high with the food and drink, then
handed it over to Scully.  She placed the envelope on the tray and carried it
up to her bedroom.

As she entered the room, Scully found Mulder sitting up in bed, shaking himself
out of sleep.

"Morning, sunshine," she said with as much enthusiasm as she could muster.  She
set the tray on the table, then walked over to the bed and sat on the edge. 
Mulder leaned over and let his head hang, his chin resting on his chest as he
gathered his wits.  She leaned over and ruffled his hair and murmured, "You
okay?"

He looked up at her with that sad, world-weary expression his face had taken on
far too often in the past few years.  "Yeah, I'm fine."

"Mulder, that's my line.  What's wrong?"  

His expression became inscrutable.  "Nothing."  Her brow lowered in a glare. 
"I had a bad dream, is all."

She brought her hand up to his temple and smoothed back the hair resting there,
her fingers gliding over the sheen of sweat.  "What was --"

"I'd rather not talk about it, okay?"

Scully flinched and her hand dropped to her side.  "Okay."  She stood and
walked over to the tray.  "I brought us something to eat.  You hungry?"  

Rising slowly from the bed, he said, his voice still gruff with sleep, "Sure. 
Thanks."  He picked up a roll and poured himself some juice, then left the
room, closing the door behind him.  Scully heard the door across the hall open,
then close.

She sank down onto one of the chairs, confused.  Scully decided not to take his
reticence as a rejection, not yet.  She would wait for him to tell her what had
happened when he was ready, though she had to admit that she was a bit hurt,
and bristled slightly when he re-entered the room some time later, freshly
showered and dressed.

He dropped a kiss on the top of her head, then picked up the envelope, which
had remained untouched on the tray.

"What's this?"  

Scully looked up at him.  "It's from the man who was going to get us our travel
documents.  He wants us to meet him at noon at a park."

"Really?"  Mulder sat down and opened the envelope, and she watched him read it
while she took a final sip of her juice, hoping the demons which had been
haunting him a short time before were gone.

And that his heart was back with her.


+++++++++++++++


Barbara Pereira had once again offered the agents use of her car and driver,
but they had declined, preferring instead to take a taxicab to the park where
they were to meet Sr. Granados.

In the back seat of the taxi, Mulder watched as his partner glanced out the
window, maintaining her distance from him.  He tried to reassure himself that
it was to maintain their professional facade in public, but, remembering his
dream of the night before, a dark place inside his head was glad that she was
pulling away from him.

The dream had been so vivid.  

//waking up and finding her gone -- had she left him?  seeing the blood and
panicking//

He turned away from her, looking out his own window at Buenos Aires speeding
by.  Fortunately, their driver had found a circuitous route which would no
doubt make their meter higher but forced them to spend less time sitting in
traffic.  The fake passports had finally arrived at Pereira's estate shortly
before they left, and "Mr. Frederick Johnson" rested his hand on his pants
pocket, assuring himself of its continued presence.  Scully had wanted to keep
hers in her own pocket, but since her skirt had none, he kept hers for her. 
Mulder's fingertip traced the outline of the passport as the taxicab pulled up
to a stoplight.  

//his legs getting tangled in the bedspread as he frantically followed a trail
of blood out of the room//

Finally, he caught a glimpse of several large monuments and an expanse of green
in the near distance.  Scully sat up straight next to him and he pulled some
money out of his other pocket.  The driver pulled up to a curb across the
street from the park and announced, "Plaza Naciones Unidas."  

Mulder glanced at the meter and handed him several bills.  "Gracias, seħor." 
The man looked back at him with a large smile at the tip he'd been given, and
unlocked the doors.  

//the door wide open, its frame splintered from the force someone had applied
to it, the blood -- HER blood -- pooled on the floor, sign of a struggle//

Scully walked around to the street side of the taxi and joined him in walking
across the street at the crosswalk.  They entered the plaza through a large
ornamental archway, and stopped to appraise the scene.  Several mothers pushed
strollers down the sidewalks, some kids kicked a soccer ball on one of the
lawns, a few joggers navigating the paths.  

//a silent scream coursing through his dry throat at the terrifying emptiness
of the room//

They made their way over to a bench and sat down, scanning the park for signs
of their contact.  Mulder glanced up at a digital clock on one of the buildings
surrounding the park -- the clock said they were still about fifteen minutes
early, so they sat quietly, ever-vigilant, waiting for their contact to make
his appearance.

//the man stepping out of the shadows, the smoke of his cigarette and the smile
on his face mocking Mulder's fear and pain//

Time passed slowly, even more so with each of them stealing glances at the
digital clock.  Neither said a word, as if their voices would betray the
urgency of their situation.

//his voice a snake, hissing through the stale air.  "You couldn't protect her,
Agent Mulder, so we took her away from you."//

After an hour of waiting, during which time they took turns standing and
circuiting the park, looking for men who matched Sr. Granados' description, in
case he was waiting for them at a different place, Scully turned to face him.

"He's not going to show," she said, careful not to use his given name lest
wandering ears hear.  

Mulder scanned the park one more time.  "Let's wait another hour."  

He watched his partner's shoulders slump in exasperation.  "If he were going to
meet us, he would have gotten here by now."  She sighed.  "Face it, we've been
set up."

"No..." But he saw the truth of her words, he just didn't want to face them. 
"Let's wait fifteen more minutes."

She met his eyes and stared at him for a long moment before saying, "Okay.  I'm
going to take a walk."  With that, she stood and took to the path, her legs
moving briskly under her long skirt.

//"She'll be much happier now, Agent Mulder," the man said, raising one
bloodstained hand to his mouth and taking a drag of his cigarette//

Mulder leaned back against the bench and watched her walk.  He wanted
desperately to close his eyes and stop thinking, stop remembering, but forced
himself to stay vigilant.  He didn't want to believe they'd been set up, yet
the truth of Scully's words mocked at him. 

He wanted out.  He wanted out of this mess.  He wanted to go home to D.C. and
hold her in his arms tightly, forsaking it all.  Forsaking everything but her.

He laughed at the foolishness of the idea. 

She would be happier without him, no matter how much it might destroy him.  He
had lived with loss before.  It had torn his heart to shreds, but somehow he
had survived.  How could he live again without her?  How could she live with
him? 

Antarctica had convinced him he would go to the ends of the earth for her, but
it had also convinced him that no matter what he did, she would always be the
pawn they used to control him.  He loved her too much to let her suffer that
way.

//"She'll be much happier now, Agent Mulder"//

Scully finished her circuit around the park, approaching him again.  He watched
every step bring her closer, as he convinced himself that he had to leave her,
for her own safety.  When they got home, he decided, he would make her leave
him, even if it destroyed them both.  She would be happier.  She would be safe.
 They would no longer have her as a pawn.

Then there she was, standing merely inches away.  Her voice was softer,
quieter.  

"Let's get out of here."  

He stood and looked down at her.  "Okay."

They left the park.


+++++++++++++++


Mulder was silent the entire way back to Pereira's house.  Scully stole glances
at him every few minutes but he wouldn't meet her eyes, instead staring out the
window, no emotion on his face.  He'd been so distanced from her all day, but
she knew that something about that dream had affected him deeply, so she waited
for him to tell her about it when he was ready.

That didn't make the wait any easier.

Scully thought of everything he had done for her.  While they were riding the
horses to Bariloche, he'd told her about how he'd gotten down to Antarctica and
she was simply awed at the lengths to which this man would go to find her.  He
amazed her, and she loved him.  She wouldn't think twice about going to the
ends of the earth for him.

As their taxi pulled up to the front gates, Scully was surprised to see the
usual guard was not stationed there, and that the gates themselves hung wide
open.  Mulder shoved some money at the driver and he let them out, then sped
down the street.  The two of them stood in front of the gates and looked at
each other, then walked through them and up the driveway.  Scully instinctively
assumed her defensive posture as they scanned the front area of the house,
looking for anything out of order.  

Reaching the front archway, Scully noticed the main door was open, and she
heard hysterical sobbing coming from inside.  Mulder walked through the arch to
the courtyard, looking around for any intruders, while Scully entered the
house.  

She found the maid from that morning on the steps, crumpled into a hysterical
mess.  At the sound of Scully's steps on the tiles, the maid screamed, then
looked up.  Her voice shrill and panicked, she wailed, "íAy, seħora!"  She
stood and ran over to Scully, throwing herself into the other woman's arms.  

Scully frantically scanned her brain for remnants of Spanish.  "Calma, calma. 
Donde senora Barbara?"  She placed her hands on the woman's shoulders and
pushed the larger woman away slightly, looking at her face.

"No esta aqui. Vineiron unos hombres y se la llevaron.  Llame a la policia!"

The agent deciphered that some men had come and taken Barbara.  "No policia. 
When, uh, cuando?"

"Esta manana."  The woman burst into tears again, and Scully guided her into a
chair, then ran out of the room to find Mulder.

Barbara Pereira had been kidnapped.


+++++++++++++++

END (8/10)

Estancia, Chapter 9.
By Alanna Rabun
alanna@alanna.net


+++++++++++++++


The household descended into chaos, and Scully and Mulder had no idea what to
do.

The maid was crumpled up on the stairs in a sobbing heap, other servants were
cowering in their quarters, and the two guards had mysteriously disappeared. 
Scully moved around the house, looking for someone coherent who could tell them
what happened, while Mulder ran up to his bedroom.  As he mounted the steps two
at a time, his loud footsteps echoed around the foyer, mingling with the
strangeled cries of the maid.

He stopped short at the top of the staircase and quickly scanned the space,
searching for anyone hidden behind curtains or around corners.  Each step he
took down the hallway was quiet, as he adjusted his stride to make as little
noise as possible.  As he neared his door, Mulder saw an envelope on the floor.
 Bending down to pick it up, he saw it was addressed to him, in a block writing
style intended to be difficult to identify.  He hastily opened the envelope and
pulled out the slip of paper inside.

"WE HAVE BARBARA PEREIRA.  SHE WILL NOT BE RETURNED UNTIL YOU AND YOUR PARTNER
STEP OFF THE PLANE IN WASHINGTON.  WE WILL BE WATCHING YOU SO DO NOT CHANGE
YOUR PLANS TO LEAVE TOMORROW, OR PEREIRA DIES."

Mulder read the note twice before folding it and putting it in his pocket, with
little concern for preserving evidence.  He opened the door to his room but
wasn't surprised to find it empty, as was Scully's, then he walked back over to
his room and grabbed their things, shoving them into the bag.  Going back
downstairs, he carefully avoided the now-whimpering maid and ventured through
the entryway to find Scully.  Just as he stepped through the portal, she
emerged from the courtyard, looking as anxious as did he.  

"There's nobody around here, Mulder.  It's as if everyone has disappeared." 
Before he had a chance to tell her about the letter, she hurried over to the
maid and asked, "Senora, cualquier persona otro se ha secuestrado?"

"No," the woman said through her tears, "Solamente la senora."  

Scully turned to face her partner.  "She says that Pereira was the only person
taken.  I don't know where all the other people went, but chances are they
either fled after this happened or are hiding somewhere."  

He pulled the note out of his pocket.  "I found this on the floor outside of my
room."  Mulder handed it over and Scully quickly scanned the words, murmuring
something under her breath.  They moved away from the maid and stood still for
a moment, trying to figure out what to do.  

"Scully, can we move the plane tickets up to today?" he whispered.

Her own whisper matched his.  "No, not without paying about $2,000 in service
charges.  Besides, it won't get us back to D.C. any faster, since we have
connecting flights to worry about."

He cursed under his breath.  "Then let's get out of here."

"What about--"

Mulder grabbed her wrist and led her toward the doorway.  "The longer we stay
here, the worse things get for us.  Let's get in a cab, find a hotel near the
airport, and lay low until we can leave tomorrow."  

His partner stepped away from him slightly and glanced over at the maid.  "But
Mulder, we need to investigate -- find out what on earth is going on here."  

The man's attempt at an ironic grin was closer to a grimace.  "We're not going
to find anything here.  If there were anything to be found, it would have
turned up by now."  He put a hand on her shoulder to get her to really notice
the seriousness of what he was saying.  "We need to get out of here, Scully. 
If this note is even remotely true, then we don't have a choice but to follow
it.  We can't go to the police -- not when we're here illegally.  And besides,
if they," he stressed the word, "are behind this, going public will only make
things worse."

Shoulders tense and face drawn tightly, she exhaled and closed her eyes. 
Breathing deeply for a few moments, she finally opened her eyes and looked at
him.  "Let's go."

Mulder squeezed her shoulder quickly, then turned to the maid on the steps, who
was looking at them curiously.  Scully walked over to the woman and said
something to her in Spanish, to which the woman nodded tearfully then stood up
and walked upstairs.  Coming back over to him, she informed him that she'd told
the woman to go back to her room, get her things, and go home to her family.  A
silent signal passed between them, and they walked out of the foyer and down
the front driveway to the street, going for nearly a block before they were
able to hail a taxi to take them to the city center.

As they settled into the cab, Mulder leaned his head against the back of the
seat and closed his eyes for a brief moment.  Their problems had increased
exponentially -- instead of just worrying about the two of them getting home,
they now had an innocent person's life at stake.  


+++++++++++++++


The Gran Hotel Colon stood majestically on one side of a long boulevard marking
the heart of Buenos Aires.  It had an elegant charm which would have appealed
to Scully's sense of romance, had their circumstances not been so urgent.  They
had chosen this place because of its size, hoping that a larger, expensive
hotel would offer them more security and allow them to ensconce themselves in
their rooms and avoid anyone trying to find them.  However, Scully knew that if
these people wanted to find her and Mulder, they could easily do so whenever
they chose.  

She removed her shoes and unbuttoned the now-dingy white blouse she had been
wearing, and sat down on the bed clad in her long skirt and tank top.  At that
moment, Scully would have given anything to be back at home in one of her
business suits, or even a sweatshirt and shorts.  Anything but these
too-feminine skirts and blouses which reminded her of the complete foreignness
of their situation.  As Mulder took his time in the shower, she pulled their
stash of money out of Mulder's discarded pants pocket and thumbed through it. 
They still had nearly $2,000, even after the two plane tickets, all the taxi
rides, and this expensive hotel;  Scully made a mental note to ask Mulder when
he emerged to arrange for more money to be waiting for them in Miami, in case
they encountered any more problems.  

The growl of her stomach echoed in the room, and Scully made an executive
decision.  Picking up the room phone, she dialed room service and looked over
the menu, choosing the old standby of cheeseburgers and french fries.  She then
dialed the number for the conceirge and asked him to have someone go to the
department store she'd seen down the street and buy them new slacks,
professional-style shirts, and some underwear.  

Hanging up the phone, she lay back on the bed and closed her eyes.  Her mind
floated back to a similar situation, where she and Mulder had also been
ensconced in a hotel room, trying to evade threats.  They had taken comfort in
their love then, finding promise in their bond and in the exhiliration they
found in one another's arms.

But now was different.

That dream he'd had last night had affected him deeply, Scully could tell. 
Over the course of the day, he had closed himself off from her so completely
that he almost felt a stranger -- the only real sense of their old partnership
had come from his hand on her shoulder in the hallway of Pereira's house.  She
was not naive enough to believe that sex solved everything, nor did she think
that their partnership was in trouble because of whatever was happening with
him, but she was still concerned.

He emerged from the bathroom wearing slacks and a tank top, his hair already
towel-dried.  Scully watched him pace the room then move to stand in front of
the window, his body still tense and closed-off.

She decided to let him stand there on his own for a while, reluctant to disturb
him while he was still lost in his own thoughts.  Yet after he'd been there for
nearly fifteen minutes, she stood and walked over to him, placing a hand on his
shoulderblade.  He didn't flinch at the touch, but neither did he turn to face
her.  Scully shifted on her feet and raised her other hand to his back, then
rested her head against it, feeling each of his breaths against her forehead. 
She stood close to him, listening to him breathe, as the shadows around them
darkened with the coming nightfall.  

Suddenly, Mulder stepped forward and turned around, catching her offguard and
causing her to almost lose her balance.  He sat down on the edge of the bed and
pulled on some socks, then began lacing his shoes, calling out, "I'm going for
a walk."

"Mulder, you can't go out there."  

His eyes remained focused on his task, unwilling or unable to look up at her. 
"I'm just going to walk the hallways.  I need to get out of here."

Mulder's words hit her with the stinging force of a slap.  Before she could be
stunned into silence, though, she walked over to face him.  "What the hell does
that mean?"  Her voice was hard, losing all the quiet of their moment at the
window.  

"I'm sorry, I -- I just need to get some fresh air, okay?"  He stood and moved
toward the door, but was stopped by her hand firmly clasping his arm.

Pulling him around to face her, she narrowed her eyes and asked, "What's wrong,
Mulder?"  Scully wanted to keep her voice sympathetic, but that was becoming
extremely difficult in the face of his erratic behavior. 

"Nothing."

Scully knew evasion when she saw it.  Just as she opened her mouth to ask him
to quit this behavior, he yanked his arm out of her grasp and, his voice
bitter, said, "Look, I don't want to talk about it.  I'll see you later."

She was able to catch up to him just as he turned the doorknob.  Bracing her
hand against the door, she kept him from opening it.  He finally turned to face
her, his own eyes narrow and foreign.  "What are you doing?"

"What are YOU doing, Mulder?  Why the hell are you avoiding me?"  

"I'm not--"

"Don't give me that!  What do you think you're doing right now?"  She searched
his face for any sign of relenting, of honesty, but it remained cold.

And then he delivered the coup de grace.  "I'm not doing anything you haven't
done for the last five years."

His words stung.  She wanted to lash out at him in return, but she knew the
truth of what he had said.  That still didn't make his actions right.  As she
tried to think of a reply, he continued.  "Do the words, 'I'm fine' ring a
bell?"

The retort, "That's not fair," hung on her tongue, but she couldn't say it,
because what he had said was true.  He moved his hand from the doorknob and
shifted slightly away from the door, but she kept her hand pressed against it. 


She felt the exhale of his breath on her face.  The hardness of his expression
softened a bit, and out of the corner of her eye she saw his hand come up as if
to caress her arm, then drop to his side.  She bit her lip and he murmured,
"I'm sorry, Scully.  That was cruel."  He raised his hand to his forehead and
closed his eyes.  "I just -- I need some time to think about all this."  

Her voice lowered to match his.  "Think about what?"  

Mulder worried at his face, rubbing his eyes.  "This.  Us."  He paused, and his
next words were even quieter, like a confession.  "What I've done to you."  

"What have you done to me, Mulder?"  she whispered.

He lowered his hand from his eyes but turned his face away from her. 
"Everything that's happened to you since you met me.  It's all been my fault." 


She closed her eyes and lowered her chin to her chest, the weight of his words
-- the guilt they held -- settling over her.  Keeping her voice low and
reassuring, she raised her face to meet his and said, "Do you think it's all
your fault?"  

He didn't nod, but the look on his face showed his agreement.

"Mulder, I'm here because I want to be.  Everything that's happened to me has
been *their* fault.  Not yours."  She paused for a moment, then continued. 
"Remember what you said to me in your hallway?  Those weren't just your
feelings.  They're mine too.  I owe you everything.  You make *me* a whole
person."  

The expression on his face changed from guilty to wistful for a moment, then
back again.  "But you were going to leave me, Scully.  I shouldn't have
followed you out that door."

She took the chance of placing her hand on his arm, and kept it there despite
his flinch.  "I chose to quit the F.B.I. so I could *stay* with you, Mulder. 
They were going to send me halfway across the country, and I chose to give up
everything so I could stay there with you."

A chuff of bitter laughter vibrated his chest.  "And you would have given up
everything, just for me."  

"Yes, I would!  Saving my career would mean nothing to me if I didn't have you.
 I'm not going to bow to them -- to what they try to do to me -- if it means
giving up everything I consider truly important, like my honor, my strength,
and *you*."  

He turned to look at her then.  His face was softer, but still closed-off.  She
could still see doubts lurking in his eyes, though she sensed he was trying to
believe her.  Scully brought one hand up to trace the contours of his cheek,
and whispered, "I love you.  I need you."

Something in his face changed.  His eyes narrowed and his breathing became
heavier.  Suddenly, there he was, up against her, pressing her into the wall. 
The force of his kiss reverberated through her body, sending waves of heat
along her nerves.  Their mouths fused together as her hands came around to
snake under his shirt, pulling him closer to her.  Somewhere in the back of her
mind she registered a knock on the door, but the feel of his hands under her
top, pulling it off, rendered all externals trivial.

And then, in a fury of hands and bodies, they were naked, once again pressed up
against the wall.  

She felt his touch everywhere, as he touched her, fingertips leaving bruises on
her stomach, her arms, her breasts.  His lips whispered words into her skin,
his murmurings unintelligible but conveying feelings of need, of desperate
love.  Breathing became a luxury as she shivered at his touch, at the cool
plaster of the wall against her back.  His hands closed on her waist and he
lifted her until her legs were clenched around his and she was wedged up
against the wall.  And then she closed her eyes as he swiftly entered her, his
mouth closing on her shoulder and his teeth biting into her chest.  

"Oh God, Mulder, yes...."  

He began to move, forcefully at first then slower, each thrust a smooth push
through slickened folds.  Scully wanted to touch him, but somewhere in the back
of her mind knew that the force of gravity wouldn't let her.  She buried her
face in his hair, inhaling the muskiness of him.  Kissing him and clenching her
muscles around him, she felt tears spring to her eyes, urgency mixing with
beauty.   

Against all logic, the force of his body pressing into her own was enough to
bring her to climax, and she shuddered with the impact, her body weightless
even as he pushed into her.  Her arms grasped at him, clutching him close,
wanting his body to mold into her.  Time suspended as he continued to pump into
her, his mouth moving from her shoulder to kiss and suck at her jugular vein,
until he finally emptied into her, his body jerking with spasmodic motions.  

Mulder's body lost its tension and he leaned into her, breathing heavily.  She
eased her legs down from around him and regained her footing on the floor,
holding his head to the crook of her neck.  Hoping that this was enough to make
him believe her, but worrying it wasn't.


+++++++++++++++


They rose before dawn to get dressed, after having spent a night holding each
other close, the darkness broken by bouts of lovemaking and to eat the dinner
which had been left outside their door.  Sometime shortly after midnight, he
had left their bed and padded to the bathroom, emptying his bladder then
staring at himself in the mirror for a long time.  

He looked different.

He could see her staring back at him, as if she had imprinted herself on his
face.  Mulder remembered the tales that after years of living together, couples
began to look alike.  But then, those couples had the luxury of forever, and he
knew that he and Scully would never have that luxury, or at least the certainty
of it.  Mulder had wanted to believe everything she had told him earlier, and
part of him did.  Yet those doubts worried at the back of his mind, keeping him
from real peace.  

As he had made his way back to the bed, he stopped and looked at her.  She had
been sprawled out on the bed, her legs warring with the covers he'd spread over
her, and her arms akimbo as if reaching out for him, needing him even while
asleep.  His male ego had been gratified at the sight, and he pushed back the
fears which had overtaken him earlier, wanting nothing more than to hold her
tight and savor these moments together.  And so he had.  

That morning, they showered together quickly, getting soap in one another's
eyes then wiping it away, amused, as the water coursed over their bodies.  As
they dressed in the new clothes, courtesy of the concierge, the memory of their
situation stood between them as surely as if Barbara Pereira herself had
entered the room, and the mood darkened and became more urgent.  She called
down to the front lobby to have them tabulate their bill and arrange for a
taxi, while he gathered their things into the well-worn bag.  They quickly
scanned the room for anything left behind, and Mulder handed his partner her
passport, which she tucked in her pocket.  

Time couldn't pass quickly enough.  

Hurrying downstairs, they paid the remainder of their bill and got into the
taxi which would take them to the airport.  The ride was fairly fast, since the
morning's traffic hadn't quite started.  Arriving at the airport, Mulder
shouldered the bag while Scully presented the tickets at check-in to get their
boarding passes.  He held his breath as they passed through customs, though
fortunately the officer seemed content with their passports and the paperwork
they had tried to procure proved unnecessary.  He was surprised that there
wasn't an alert put out to stop the two of them if they tried to pass through
customs, but knew their opponents seemed to want the two of them on the plane,
and that customs officers were probably more lenient with people leaving the
country than entering.   Mulder stole a glance at Scully as they were waved
through, and the look on her face reassured him slightly.  

They made their way to their gate to scope out the scene, looking for the
people who the note had said would be watching them the entire way.  Mulder
didn't see anyone following them, though didn't want to take his chances.  As
they neared the gate, Scully's hand closed on his arm and she led them into a
small airport restaurant, where they tried to eat breakfast, their nerves
killing their appetites.  

After about an hour of waiting, the intercom announced boarding of their flight
and they walked to the gate, presenting their passports along with their
boarding passes to the attendant at the ramp.  He and Scully took one more look
around the gate area but still didn't see anyone watching them.  His hand at
the small of her back, he nudged her forward and they walked through the
clearance and down the steps, then across the tarmac to the plane which would
take them back home.


+++++++++++++++


END (9/10)

Estancia, Chapter 10.
By Alanna Rabun.
emmalanna@aol.com


+++++++++++++++


The smog hovering over Washington D.C. had never looked so beautiful.

Scully clasped her partner's hand tightly as their plane circled over the city
in final prepartions for landing at National.  Her legs were cramped from the
long flight from Buenos Aires to D.C. through Miami, yet she'd remained seated
for most of the flight, unwilling to leave her seat unless necessary.  The
flight had fortunately passed quickly, yet these few moments before landing
stretched endlessly before her.  His hand still in hers, she used her other
hand to gather her things in the small plastic bag they'd picked up at the
Miami airport, while they pretended to souvenir shop as they waited for their
flight to Washington and checked to see if they were being surveilled.  For not
the first time, Scully wondered if that note had been a set-up, if the claim
that they were being watched was merely a ruse.

But the memory of a vanished woman and a maid trembling in terror gave lie to
her suspicions.

Tucking the largely-unread copies of Newsweek and Time into the bag, she set it
on her lap and turned to face Mulder.  He had claimed the window seat this time
and was staring out at the haze, at the early-afternoon glow of the city.  She
watched over her shoulder as they neared the ground.  From the sky, Washington
looked so orderly, so planned -- the perfect symbol of the Fathers' vision so
many years ago.  But she knew that down there, chaos awaited her. 

The intercom announced that final preparations for landing were underway, and a
flight attendant passed by them, checking to see that their seatbelts were
fastened.  Mulder turned away from the window and looked at her, his silent
face speaking questions.  //You okay?  You ready for what will happen when we
land?//  

She answered yes.  She was as ready as she could ever be, which wasn't nearly
ready enough.


+++++++++++++++


Something about walking up a ramp from plane to terminal had always appealed to
Mulder.  As corny as it sounded, he liked the idea of the extending ramp being
a gateway, from the stasis and uncertainty of travel to the reassurances of
home.  Somewhere in the walk from their seats to the gate, his hand had slipped
from hers and instead clutched the handle of their bag, their union instead
manifested through their matching strides -- his shorter than usual, hers
longer.  They made their way into the waiting area and passed through what he'd
always called the "hugs and welcomes gauntlet", of all the people waiting for
their loved ones to disembark. Mulder very seldom had a loved one waiting for
him, yet he found comfort this time in the knowledge that *his* loved one was
by his side.  

Free from the smothering mass of people, they reached the concourse, only to
find Byers leaning against a pillar, his face scanning the approaching
passengers.  The man didn't need to call out the agents' names for them to
approach him, never quite so grateful to see his familiar face.  Without a
word, they all fell into step together, and only when they reached the
escalator to the parking garage did Scully finally speak.

"Thanks for picking us up."  Standing on the down escalator, he watched Scully
lean up and give Byers a quick kiss of gratitude on his cheek.  Mulder stifled
a chuckle at the man's flustered reaction and stammered assertion that it was
nothing, really.  

All three of them kept vigilant watch on their surroundings as they walked
toward Byers' car, and the man said, "I'm going to take you two to HQ -- it's
probably safer there than the Bureau or your apartments."  

Scully took the front seat while Mulder folded his body into the back, and soon
they were out of the garage and on the freeway to the Gunmen's offices in
Virginia.  Only when the city center had receded from view did their driver
speak.

"Right now Langly and Frohike are trying to get in touch with Pereira, to see
if she was returned home like you were told."  He navigated down an exit ramp
and turned left at the light.  "We weren't able to find out exactly who sent
that fax you intercepted, but we did hack into the Bureau mainframe and got a
log of the transmissions from that machine at that time of day."  Anticipating
the agents' question, he continued, "The access code used on the machine was
one generally used by executive level assistants, so it could have been any one
of a handful of people.  We did check it against the card-key access times of
several of the employees at that level, and we do know that A.D. Skinner and
his office staff were not logged in at that time."  

Scully turned in her seat to look at Mulder.  He narrowed his eyes and asked,
"Any clue as to just who it *was*?"

The familiar scenery showed that they were down the street from their
destination.  Byers spoke as he pulled into the controlled-access gate and
punched in several codes in succession.  "That we don't know.  We narrowed it
down to around a dozen personnel who are possibilities.  I'll show you a list
when we get inside.  To be frank, it could even be someone else altogether, so
long as they had knowledge of that access code.  We can keep looking, but I
doubt it will ultimately help much." 

Anyone.  The possibilities floated around in Mulder's brains.  He felt a deep
sense of relief that it wasn't Skinner, then chastized himself for even
suspecting that.  Their boss didn't want them dead -- he knew that -- though
recent events had made perfectly clear that quite a few people did.  And he
knew that further investigation wouldn't help uncover that person or group of
people.  They didn't want to be found, and knew how to cover their tracks.  

Mulder watched as Byers punched in another set of access codes to gain entry
into the garage, then put the car into park.  His partner got out of the car
first, shifting her shopping bag from one hand to the other as she opened the
door for him.  He stepped out and stretched his tired muscles while the Gunman
once again punched in more numbers to enter the building -- Mulder was
surprised a man could even remember that many codes.  

They followed him inside.  The noise of their entry had alerted the other two
Gunmen, and he and Scully had a welcoming party as they stepped into the
confines of the compound.  He had never been so glad to see them in his life,
but resisted the impulse to hug his gratitude, instead saying, "Thanks guys,
for everything you've done to help us out."  Their smiles were his welcome.

Some things never changed.  As Mulder set their bag down in the room and walked
over to the computer where Langly was busy going through data and speaking on
the telephone,  he heard Frohike's voice telling Scully that she looked
wonderful, and her bemused and appreciative reply that she was very grateful
for all their help.  Mulder could almost see Frohike's beaming smile light up
the room.  

They got down to business.

"...I'll tell them, and we're all glad you're okay.... That's right....  Yes,
they're right here, but... Oh, okay.  I'll call you again in a few hours." 
Langly hung up the phone and turned to the others.  "That was Barbara Pereira. 
She's back home."

Mulder's sigh of relief didn't wash away the residual horror he still felt at
having put that woman in this position.  Scully asked, "How is she?  Is she all
right?"

Langly's expression of intrigue was stamped on his face.  "Get this -- she
doesn't remember a thing."

"What?" Several voices said in unison.  

"Says she woke up this afternoon in her bed and had no idea how she'd gotten
there."  

Byers murmured, "Classic behavior pattern of alien abduction."

The two agents exchanged a look.  "Did she go to a hospital, or at least have
someone check her out?"  Scully asked.  

Langly spoke up.  "She apparently had a doctor look her over, but she says she
feels just fine and doesn't have time to go to the hospital.  Something about a
party she had plans for tonight.  I didn't think it was a good idea to mention
anything about aliens.  You two know how she can get."

Mulder sunk down into the nearest chair.  "It's all being neatly tied up...." 
He couldn't resist breaking into a bitter laugh.  As always, Their mission
accomplished, the shadow group slunk back off into the shadows.  He and Scully
were back in D.C. and Pereira had been returned.  Someone had killed Schweig
back at his ranch and chances were that anyone exploring Wilkes Land,
Antarctica, would find no evidence that anything had ever been there, save a
huge crater in the middle of the wasteland.  

Scully walked over and stood next to him.  She kneeled down before him and
looked up into his face.  His voice was harsh as he said, "No trace on the fax,
no witnesses left."   Mulder paused.  "And yet again, we're left with fuck
all."  He glanced down at his partner, and saw a flash of something pass over
her face -- a darker emotion hinting at things left unsaid -- but was too
embittered by the whole experience to question what it meant.  

After a few silent moments, Byers said, "Um, we'll give you two a few minutes
to talk."  The sounds of footsteps and a door shutting vaguely filtered through
Mulder's near-stupor.  

Scully remained kneeling in front of him, and reached out and took both of his
hands in her own.  Her voice soft but steely, she said, "Look at me, Mulder." 
He obeyed.  "We both saw that... thing... in Antarctica.  Whatever it was,
whoever those *things* were, they weren't human.  We don't have any physical
evidence and from what I'm guessing, no traces of that substance you found me
immersed in remain in my bloodstream."  He felt her squeeze his hands, and he
fought back smarting tears of sheer fury and frustration.  "But Mulder, I
*know* what I saw.  And until we can get some evidence, that's enough for us to
keep going."

He looked at her for a long moment.  Finally he was getting what he'd always
wanted from her -- belief and optimism.  That was all he needed, right?  Her
faith?  Somehow, it didn't reassure him, as the old demons of frustration hit
him, and he balled up his fist out of a need to throw punches at the brick wall
They had erected before the two of them.


+++++++++++++++


The hallway of Mulder's apartment was silent as they walked toward his door. 
Scully kept her hand in her pocket, gripping the sidearm Byers had given her,
feeling it rock against her leg with each step.  The surety of it made her feel
only slightly more confident in their situation.  It still had too many
unknowns for her to be completely safe. 

As they neared the turn in his hallway to reach his apartment, she couldn't
resist glancing around the space.  The panelled walls, the tiled floor, the
harsh sodium light of the overhead lamps -- each of them brought back memories.
 Memories of so many journeys to his apartment, some anxious, others relaxed. 
Then the last, dreading facing him with the news that she was resigning from
the F.B.I., knowing that the news would destroy him as much as it was
destroying her.  If she had stayed in his apartment any longer, he would have
easily been able to convince her to stay -- for all the wrong reasons.  Through
the clarity of hindsight she knew remaining with him had little to do with
being on the verge of something big or the thrill of investigation.  Instead,
it had everything to do with needing to be with him, searching for a truth
which was becoming both more elusive and more tangible every day.  The truth of
their quest, the truth of their meaning in one another's lives.  And over the
past week, from when she collapsed on the floor to their walk down this
hallway, those truths were coming into greater focus.

They rounded the corner and were faced with his door, its brown wood stolid and
calm.  Mulder's own door key had been lost somewhere along the way, so he
fished the Gunmen's backup out of his pocket and inserted it in the lock.  The
bolt turned easily at the pressure.  Before Mulder turned the doorknob to
enter, he turned to face Scully.  

"You ready?"  he murmured.  She nodded her reply and drew her gun out of her
pocket as he pushed the door open.

The apartment was quiet.  Scully breathed in stale air, the scent of mold and
dust floating around the room.  Just as she was about to follow Mulder through
the front room into the living area, she heard his harsh gasp.  She watched him
quickly draw his weapon.  Drawing her own, she stepped to his side so she could
see what he was reacting to.

On his sofa sat Donald Leamus, the man who had orchestrated the terrorist
"crackdown" to test the biological agent.

The man who manipulated the campaign, hoping to break Mulder in the process.

The man who had tried to send her partner to his death.

The next few seconds passed in a staccato cacophany of drawn guns, shooting
stances, and grunts of shock and fury.  Two agents stood in perfect position,
guns trained on the man sitting calmly before them.  

"Put your guns down.  You can't risk shooting me, Agents." Leamus' voice was
smooth wax over metal.  

The agents didn't obey.

"Welcome home, Agents Scully and Mulder," he continued.  

Fury bubbled through Scully's veins.  "What are you doing here?" she asked, her
voice cold and bitter.

Leamus smiled.  "Thank you very much for following instructions.  As I'm sure
you're aware by now, Barbara Pereira has been returned to her house."

"What did you do to her?"  As he said the words, Scully could physically feel
Mulder strain to his breaking point next to her.  

The man shifted slightly in his seat, though made no move to stand or touch the
gun next to him on the sofa.  "Nothing she'll remember, which is probably
better for her."  

Scully tensed her arm muscles, trying to shake off the soreness from having
gone so long out of the position.  She wanted desperately to look at Mulder, to
ask him questions with her eyes, but she remained still.  

At that moment, Leamus slowly stood.  Scully trained her gun on him as he rose
from the sofa, and he said, "I'm going to leave now, but I have one thing to
say to you first."

"You're not going to leave, Leamus," Mulder nearly growled.

He laughed then.  "What are you going to do?  Shoot me?  I think you've already
had enough of explaining dead bodies in your apartment, Agent Mulder." 
Scully's eyes narrowed and she fought the urge to lash out at the man. 
"Agents, I'm warning you now not to follow up on anything that happened to you
in South America, or what you were told by the man who called himself Jacob
Smith."

"Why?"  Scully's words were more command than question.

"If you do, we will not hesitate to take Barbara Pereira again.  And next time,
we won't return her."  

With that, the man walked out of the apartment.

Scully finally managed to take a deep breath.  She watched Mulder move over to
his chair and slowly sink down into it, while she walked around his apartment,
checking in the various rooms and closets to make sure nothing was out of
place.  Everything looked fine, but that didn't give her any sense of
reassurance.  

She made her way back to the living room and stood in front of Mulder, watching
him look out the window, his face closed off and his body still.  They stayed
in that stance for a few moments, then just as she was about to make a move to
either touch him or just say his name -- she didn't know which -- he spoke.

"What aren't you telling me, Scully?"

"What?"  Her face puckered in confusion.  

His voice rose a bit.  "What did Jacob Smith tell you?"

Oh, God.  The best laid plans of mice and men....  She had chosen not to tell
him because she didn't want to hurt him.  And now it was all going to hell.  

Scully took a seat on the sofa, deliberately keeping her distance from him,
trying to remain calm.  Taking a deep breath, she began to recount Smith's
story of Mulder's family history, of the relationship between Schweig, Sommers,
and his grandparents.  Of why Smith had approached her.  Of why he had rescued
them in Antarctica.

Throughout the narrative, Mulder remained still, staring off into the middle
distance.  His eyes were close to glazing over, though she knew he was hanging
on to every word.  When she was finished, the room was quiet for several
minutes, then Mulder turned to look at her.  

"When were you planning to tell me about this, Scully?"  

She had no rebuttal for him.

"You were never going to mention it, were you?"  It wasn't a question.

"Mulder, I--"  She couldn't continue, as the guilt washed over her.

His face twisted into a bitter smile.  Before she could find words to explain
that she'd done what she thought was best, he spoke to her, his voice dead.

"I think I need to be alone, Scully."

Her voice became quiet, though not meek.  Never meek.  "Are you angry with me?"
 

Mulder was silent for several long moments.  Finally, he said, "No, I'm not. 
That would make me a hypocrite.  God knows I've done the same thing to you in
the past."  His face softened slightly and he rubbed a hand over his eyes.  "I
just... I just need some time to think about all this, okay?"  

She wanted to heed his request.  She wanted to walk out of the room and give
him all the distance he wanted.  But she couldn't.  That was what she would
have done had they been respectful colleagues.  But they were partners, and now
they were lovers.  This was *their* problem, not his. 

"Do you think you can't talk to me about it, Mulder?"  

He looked up at her.  "No, that's not it."

"Then what is it?"  

"It's -- damn it, Scully, this is my life we're talking about, here."  

"It's my life too."  Her voice grew stronger with each word.  "It stopped being
*your* life when we made love.  It stopped being *your* life a long time before
that."  She wanted to touch him, but kept her hands clasped in front of her.  

"But it's my family."

"And it's not mine too?  What do the greeting cards and wedding vows say?
'What's yours is mine'?  Mulder, if it affects you, it affects me too."  He
closed his eyes and she continued.  "If we're going to have any future
together, we need to learn to start talking to each other and stop thinking
we're protecting one another by keeping things secret.  I screwed up, I admit
it.  I should have told you everything about what Smith told me immediately,
but I didn't.  And God, Mulder, I'm sorry."

She walked over to him and knelt next to him, and grasped his hand in her own. 
"I can't promise that it will never happen again.  But I'm not going to sit
back and just let things happen anymore.  I can't.  I won't."

"But Scully," he said, "I'm not going to let things happen to you."  

"You can't stop everything from happening, Mulder.  And when you try to take it
all on your shoulders, you cut me out of the process.  I can defend myself, you
know."  

He looked up at her and pulled his hand out of her grasp.  "Why the hell is it
wrong of me to want to protect you?"

"So I should just sit back and let you take care of me?  I'm sorry, Mulder, but
that's not going to happen." 

Mulder sighed deeply.  "I can't change that part of me, Scully."

"I know that.  But you have to remember that I'm in this as deeply as you are. 
Those people seem to think it's all about you, but it's about me too.  Now,
more than ever."  

She raised to her feet and looked down at him.  Suddenly, she felt his arm
snake around her waist and he pulled her into his lap.  Holding her close, he
rested his chin on her shoulder.  "I know, Scully.  And God, I'm trying."  

They stayed there together for a long time, holding one another close. 
Finally, she heard his whispered, "I love you."

She ran her fingers through his hair and smiled.  "I love you too.  And you
know what, Mulder?"

He pulled away from her, and she saw the tears lurking in the corners of his
eyes.  "What?"

"We're going to survive this, and we're going to win."  

His smile warmed her heart.  She pulled away from him and placed her hands on
his chest.  "So, what next?"

"Well, first thing is that we have to contact Skinner and let him know we're
back home, then figure out what the hell we're going to tell people."  

"Ah, you mean we have to get our stories straight."  She quirked an eyebrow.

Mulder grinned.  "Something like that."  His smile faded.  "We also need to
make a plan." 

"What kind of plan?"

He shifted underneath her.  "Think about what all we've seen and what all we
still have left to learn.  We can't keep waiting for things to happen.  We have
to start going after the truth and not just wait for it to fall into our
hands." 

Scully nodded her head in agreement.  

"As for the immediate future...." Mulder's voice deepened and she could feel
him getting hard beneath her.  Her own breathing deepened and a flush spread
through her cheeks.  

"Yes?"  

"Do you have any idea how often I've fantasized about making love with you on
that couch?"

Scully smiled.  Just as she was thinking of a suitably coy response, his hand
snaked under her legs and he stood, carrying her over to the sofa.  Her
laughter was stopped by his kiss, deep and probing, tender and loving.  They
collapsed on the sofa and touched one another, beginning their new life as one.

They were home.  They were together.

And sometimes, that was the greatest gift of all.


+++++++++++++++


END.

AUTHOR'S NOTES:  I'll bet everyone remembers their first thoughts upon leaving
the theatre after their first viewing of "The X-Files" movie.  Mine was, "I
have GOT to write a story."  I was out of town that weekend, driving 900 miles
without ever leaving the state of Texas, and I-20 to Texarkana from Dallas and
Highway 59 in East Texas are permanently branded with the first plans I made
for "Estancia".  

This was, by sheer virtue of size and plot, the most ambitious story I've tried
to tell so far.  I want to thank two people in particular for "Estancia":  Kem
and Kirsten.  These two ladies went above and beyond the call of duty in
helping with every idea I had, and reading chapters at the spur of the moment. 
Thanks, you two -- you mean a great deal to me.  And as I said last night, "You
RAWK!" <g>

I've already read several wonderful fanfics dealing with the ramifications of
the movie, and I really hope to read a great many more.  To all of you who have
made it this far -- please get to writing!  Don't let inexperience or
insecurity stop you.  Each of us has a story to tell, and that's the beauty of
the Internet.  I'm eagerly awaiting each of your stories :).

Thank you.

cheers,
alanna