From: UbrScullie@aol.com
Date: Mon, 5 Jul 1999 02:02:23 EDT
Subject: resubmission of story

FBI Agents- and other strange bedfellows by UbrScullie
Rated: NC-17   Category: S
Keywords: Mulder/Scully UST/Mulder/other (Sex, no romance)/ Rape
Spoilers:  Triangle
Summary:  Are Mulder's erotic dreams pulling him away from the X-
files?


Author's note:  This all came about because of a song by Depeche 
Mode called "Enjoy the silence."  It started out as a simple 
piece, and exploded into a monster!  I apologize about the 
length, but the story just flowed.  

Also:  Please note, CC created them, Fox owns them, but I just 
love them!  Borrowed without consent or knowledge.  Please be 
gentle.





FBI Agents- and other strange bedfellows

     It had to be a dream.

     The hot breath against his jaw-line, the gentle nibbles on 
his lips.  The long slender fingers smoothing across his chest, 
stroking his arms, his stomach, and his thighs.  Reaching up, he 
framed a small, delicate face, long silky hair draping over his 
strong fingers.  Leaning forward he captured lips he could not 
see in the darkness, tasting, probing.  Their tongues entwined in 
a fiery dance, each exposing their passions as the kiss deepened 
and grew frantic.  Then suddenly they parted, breathing deep. 
      Sweat cooled on his over-heated skin, and he panted 
quietly, waiting for the next onslaught.  The lithe figure moved 
suggestively against him.  Again those hands stroked, not as 
gently as before, but with an undeniable urgency.  Those nimble 
fingers captured him, stroking his hardness, the silky tresses 
falling across his body, her hot lips pressing kisses randomly on 
his chest and stomach.
     Mulder clenched the sheets with both hands, flinging his 
head back and closing his eyes.  The sensation was staggering, 
and he savored the intimate embrace, as she gathered him within 
the warm cavity of her mouth, thrusting to match her strokes.  He 
choked back a groan, afraid that any sound would cause the dream 
to end.  The tension built inside, his whole being centered on 
his groin and the fulfillment of sexual release.  
     And then it stopped.
     Only his ragged breathing broke the silence, but Mulder knew 
he wasn't alone.  He felt the tension in his body ebb slightly, 
and he released the covers he grasped so tightly.  His breath 
became shallower and he regained a semblance of control. Reaching 
out with his right hand, he waited for some sign of action, 
anything from his unrevealed partner.
     His hand was ignored.  Instead, two strong hands grasped him 
firmly at his waist, and in one fluid move she straddled and 
impaled herself on his still throbbing member.  Incidentally 
Mulder observed that during their foreplay, his partner had the 
presence of mind to provide them with protection.  Arching 
upwards, he cradled her to his chest, pressing his face against 
the side of her neck, delighting in the floral perfume and smell 
of sweat mingling.  Her body was compact, and firm, reminding 
Mulder of an athlete.  She stroked the back of his head and neck, 
tipping her head slightly to kiss the top of his.  
     Then she moved.  It was slow and controlled, almost 
imperceptible, but Mulder's body was so focused that it felt like 
an electric shock through his system.  The intimate dance grew 
faster, and she arched away from his embrace, using the 
resistance to control her strokes.  Mulder again felt the tension 
return, more intense than before, and though he tried to increase 
the pace his companion wouldn't allow him to take control.  Then 
he felt it, the first contractions of pleasure, intensifying and 
drawing a response from him.  Suddenly they grew violent, both 
searching for the same end.  Shudders rippled through her body, 
shaking Mulder to his very core, and his body responded, flooding 
hers with pleasure.	
     They remained wrapped in each others arms, her face pressed 
against his neck, her breathing ragged.  Mulder allowed his hands 
to wander across her buttocks and back, in a soothing gesture.  
He didn't know how long they remained entwined, it could've been 
minutes or hours, and he didn't care.  Mulder knew only at that 
moment he found bliss.
     Closing his eyes, he slowly fell backwards into the covers, 
pulling his companion with him.  They still remained intimately 
connected, neither inclined to separate yet.  He wanted to say 
something to express his feelings, but a sudden lethargy 
enveloped him.  A smile crossed his features as he stroked the 
long tresses, trying to find the words.  Words had always come so 
easily to him before, but now his mind was a blank slate.  As if 
reading his thoughts, his companion placed gentle fingers against 
his lips in a silencing gesture.
      Sleep invaded, and Mulder allowed himself to drift.


     As Scully glanced at Mulder for the third time, he shut the 
case file he had been reviewing and met his partners curious 
stare.  "Is something wrong?"
     "No."  Scully lied, leaning back in her chair.  "Not wrong 
really."  She hedged.
     "Come on Scully, spit it out." 
     With a sly smile, Scully shrugged.  "You smell Mulder."  At 
his surprised look she shrugged again.  "Not bad, but there's an 
odor that's not you."
      "I did go to the gym yesterday, but I showered."  Mulder 
excused.  
     "Have you changed shampoo's?"  At Mulder's negative shake of 
the head, Scully pushed back from the desk and moved towards her 
partner.  Leaning slightly, she sniffed at his hair.  "Its 
slightly-floral."
     Mulder turned his head slightly, Scully's face very close to 
his.  His clear blue eyes captured her sea-foam green.  There was 
an uncomfortable pause between the two, then Scully nervously 
stepped away.  "I'm sorry, it's none of my business."
     Mulder cleared his throat.  "Nonsense Scully, you're my 
partner.  You ask, and I'll answer."
     "You jump, I jump."  She quoted from Titanic, and Mulder 
nodded.
     Scully picked up  her pen from the desk and snapped the cap 
into place.  "I just realized that maybe you had a date last 
evening."  She tidied files that were already neat, glancing at 
Mulder from under her brows.  "The floral scent is most likely a 
perfume."
     Mulder frowned.  "I haven't been anywhere, or with anyone 
lately."  He admitted.  "And if I had a date, I think that you'd 
be the first person to know."  He added suggestively, raising one 
eyebrow for effect.
     Scully laughed slightly, used to his innuendoes.  "Let's 
grab some lunch."  She suggested, grabbing her purse, and 
returning their conversation to neutral ground.  "We've got a 
meeting at one with Skinner."


     Scully tried to focus on Agent Snow as he recited the latest 
crime figures in his nauseating monotone.  Uncharacteristically 
Mulder was actually paying attention, and even jotting down 
notes.  She folded her hands on the table top in front of her, 
setting her face on auto-pilot, giving the illusion of attention 
and letting her thoughts wander.
     Something had changed Mulder.  She could see it in his walk, 
and hear it in his voice.  His whole demeanor lately had 
mellowed.  Cases that would normally send him on an intense 
flurry of activity now only caused a stirring of  focused 
interest.  Not that he didn't give one hundred percent.  But the 
obsessive drive was modified.  The case would get solved,  Scully 
didn't doubt Mulder's ability, but it was getting done at a more 
reasonable pace.  A relaxed pace.  And Scully realized that she 
had never seen Mulder at ease before.  Even when they were on 
administrative leave, pending an investigation, he'd been 
preoccupied with cases.  But now, everything was just--different.
     "Agent Scully, do you have anything to add to Mulder's 
report?"
     Skinner's firm voice cut through Scully's daydreaming, and 
embarrassed she shook her head  in the negative.  "No sir, Agent 
Mulder and I are in compete agreement."  She mumbled, hoping that 
it was an appropriate response.
     "That will be a first."  Skinner joked, leafing his file 
over to close.  "Carry on everyone."  He excused, coming to his 
feet.
     Mulder and Scully dutifully filed out of the office, 
trotting to the elevator, weaving through the constant traffic 
flowing around the assistant offices.  The elevator slid open as 
they approached, and a new flood of bodies poured out, leaving 
the car empty for the duo.   
     Reaching forward, Mulder selected the basement, sliding a 
concerned look to his partner.  "You've been preoccupied."  He 
urged, hoping to draw her into a conversation.
     "Hmmm."  She responded, twisting her body slightly to face 
him.  "Actually, I've been thinking about you."  She yielded, 
knowing he waited for an answer.
     The elevator came to a smooth stop, and they stepped out 
into the dark hallway leading to their office. 
     "Good thoughts, I hope."  Mulder chided, leading the way 
down the hall.  In a flamboyant gesture he waved his arm towards 
their office door, allowing Scully to proceed him.
     "I don't know Mulder.  Its just-"  Scully shrugged 
helplessly, turning to face her partner.  "Intuition I guess, but 
there's something different about how you're approaching your 
work."
      Mulder nodded in a thoughtful manner, and slid around the 
desk and settled into his chair.  
      "I mean, you haven't even looked at the Beale Air Force UFO 
sighting, and you seemed so eager to leave for California just 
seven days ago."
      "I've done some reading on Beale.  It used to be the home 
of the Lockheed SR-71 spy-planes, and U2's still fly out of 
there."  He grabbed a file off the corner of the desk, and 
riffled through the many pages.  "The SR has been absent for ten 
years now, and the residents haven't been exposed to military 
test flights for some time.  I think it's a simple case of the 
military neglecting to tell the locals of the flight patterns of 
new aircraft.  These aren't UFO's Scully.  Just planes on 
maneuvers."
    "There!"  Scully pointed an accusing finger towards Mulder, 
and moved purposely towards his desk.  "Did you just hear what 
you said?"  At Mulder's surprised look, Scully grasped the edges 
of the desk and leaned forward glaring into her partners face.  
"Mulder, you just 'Scullied' me.  You, Mister fantastic leaps of 
logic, the spin doctor of the preposterous, just rationalized a 
UFO sighting!"
     Mulder leaned back into his chair, a thoughtful look 
crossing his features.  "I did do that, didn't I?"  He whispered.
    "Mulder?"  Scully features softened.  "A lot has happened 
these past few months.  Maybe being returned to the X-files was 
premature."
     "What are you saying Scully?  This is all I've ever wanted."
     "No Mulder, there you are wrong.  It's not what you've 
wanted, it's all you've ever had."  Scully straightened, moving 
around the corner of the desk to stand closer.  "Maybe you're 
burnt out?"  She asked softly.
     Mulder scoffed.  "Come on Scully, be serious."
     "Mulder I am being serious."  She placed a gentle hand on 
his shoulder.  "I don't see the enthusiasm that you normally 
display.  Perhaps you should take a break?"
     "We just had a break, remember?  You, me and the suspension 
make three?"
     "Just promise me you'll think about it?"  Scully urged, 
giving his shoulder a shake.
     "Okay Mom."  Mulder capitulated, a slight smile crossing his 
features.  "I promise to think about it."


     Mulder glared at the alarm clock, its metallic buzz 
purposely grating.  Dutifully he got up, slapping at the time 
piece and shutting off the noise.  A huge urge to yawn slowed his 
awakening, and he flung his arms wide to stretch, letting his 
head fall back.  As the contracting muscles eased, he caught a 
glimpse of himself in the over-head mirror.  The sheets were 
pooled around him, almost as if he'd struggled through the night, 
but he remembered no nightmare.  In fact, he realized that for 
the last couple of days, he'd been more relaxed than he had in a 
long time.  A thoughtful frown marred his features, and he 
shrugged off the observation.  Finally a peaceful night, he joked 
mentally, and wandered into the bathroom.  
     Stepping under the stinging spray of the shower, he just 
stood there, letting the warm water sluice over him.  As the 
morning cobwebs disappeared, he slowly started to wash, idly 
soaping up his body.  He knew he was spending too much time, but 
the warm shower spray was too comfortable to give up quickly.  
Almost reluctantly he snapped off the stream, sighing at the 
abrupt loss of liquid comfort.  
     Stepping out of the shower stall, he grabbed the nearest 
towel, and casually started to dry off, slinging the damp towel 
around his waist, and stopping in front of the mirror.  He 
cleared a spot on the fogged glass, and studied himself a moment, 
absently noting that he needed another hair cut.  Grabbing his 
toothbrush, he paused with the device halfway to his face, 
noticing a slight bruise on his jaw-line.  Turning slightly, he 
spotted several more discolored spots on his neck and over his 
collar bone.  Carefully he fingered the spots, but felt no pain.  
Shrugging, he returned to brushing his teeth.
     He arrived early to work, tossing his coat over the chair, 
and going to pour himself a cup of coffee.  He gave the morning 
paper only a cursory glance, and checked his e-mail, noting four 
new messages from Frohike.  An internal memo also informed him 
that Skinner would be out of the office, and his meeting was 
postponed until Monday.
     "Good morning."    Scully breezed in, coffee already in 
hand.  She took a deep breath of the aromatic brew, and carefully 
sipped.  Closing her eyes, she savored the taste.  "I stopped at 
Starbucks."  She admitted, and carefully set the cup down on the 
corner of the desk.  "Keep your mitts off."  She warned 
playfully.
     Mulder smiled.  "Our meeting has been cancelled."  He 
informed her, taking his seat.  
     "Good, then we can actually get some work done."  Scully 
enthused, taking another sip of coffee.  "So, have you decided to 
head out to California?"
     "I don't know Scully.  I'm still not convinced that it's an 
X-file."  Mulder grabbed the file, and pulled forth a page of 
phone numbers.  "I want to do some advance interviews, maybe get 
a little more information to go on.  Then, maybe, we can head to 
California."
    "Oh!"  Scully set her coffee down, going to rummage through 
her purse.  "I did a little shopping with friends last night and 
found something interesting."
     "Is it lacey?"  Mulder asked, excitement tingeing his voice.
     "You wish."  Scully casually dismissed his teasing, and 
found what she was looking for.  "Ta  Dah!"  She announced 
triumphantly, bringing forth a small perfume atomizer and placing 
it on the desk top.
     "And this is-?" 
     "Ballmoral floral by Cannard.  That's what you smelled like 
the other day."
     Mulder picked up the small cylinder, removed the cap and 
waved it cautiously under his nose.  A vague sense of recognition 
nagged at him, but he couldn't pinpoint why, or who.  Shaking his 
head, he handed the atomizer back to Scully.  "I still don't know 
how it wound up on me."
    "Well, I can tell you this, it ain't cheap."  Scully spritzed 
a small amount on her wrist, and rubbed them together, moving to 
place the cylinder back in her bag as she did so.  "That half 
ounce cost thirty-five dollars.  So whoever you're bumping into 
in the hallways or the elevator,  has expensive tastes."
     Turning, she almost bumped into Mulder.  "What-?"
     Mulder grabbed her hand, bringing her wrist closer to his 
face.  His look was intense, and focused, and Scully had a quick 
moment of panic.  His hand was warm, and strong, though he didn't 
hold her wrist hard enough to hurt.  Scully knew Mulder's 
strength, been witness to his outbursts,  and watched him hold 
his own during a fight.  But she had never been afraid before.  
His height intimidated, and she felt tiny and fragile, but knew 
instinctively that Mulder would never harm her. Yet at that 
moment, Scully was extremely conscious of the fact that they were 
alone, in an isolated office, and not another soul in the 
basement to hear her cry out.  She watched in fascination as 
Mulder closed his eyes, inhaling deeply of the fragrance she had 
applied.  He turned his head slightly, pressing his lips against 
her palm.  The sudden jolt of sexual energy had Scully snatching 
her hand away violently, and she stepped back, staring in 
surprised shock at her partner.
     Mulder was as surprised as Scully, a confused look crossing 
his features.  "Scully, I don't know what to say."  He mumbled, 
taking a step back, almost stumbling in his mystification.  "I'm 
sorry." 
     A quick flash crossed his vision, and he closed his eyes, 
trying to capture the image.  Long hair.  Athletic body.  But 
everything was shrouded in darkness.
    "Mulder, are you alright?"
    "There was someone Scully."  He muttered, staring straight 
ahead, trying to draw more information from the brief flash of 
memory that he was exposed to.  "Someone in my apartment."  He 
tilted his head back, staring at the ceiling, but not seeing the 
ceiling, but visualizing a glimpse in the over-head mirror in his 
apartment.  "Someone in my bed."  He let his head drop back down.  
"Scully, I don't know her."
     "Mulder, sit down, you're shaking."  Scully gently led him 
to his chair.  Like a child he followed her gentle urgings and 
complied.  "What do you remember?"
     "Long hair, slender body. She never spoke, and her face was 
always in shadows.  But I know that it's no one I know."  Mulder 
leaned forward onto the desk.  "We had sex."  He admitted 
quietly.  "But I don't know how she got there.  I haven't been 
anywhere.  Scully, you have to believe me, I didn't pick up some 
stranger."
     "I believe you."  Scully soothed, knowing as she spoke the 
words reflexively, she meant them.
     "I don't remember her entering, I don't remember her 
leaving.  I thought it was all a dream." 
     "Mulder, we need to check out your apartment, to see if 
there's any sign of forced entry."  Scully spoke firmly, 
determination giving her voice a hard edge.  "Are you up this?"
     Mulder nodded, taking a quick swig of his coffee, steadying 
the tremor in his hand.  "Let's go."


     "Are you alright?"
     Mulder stared at Scully, realizing that she waited patiently 
for a reaction.  "I've been sleeping in the bed."  He announced 
lamely, ignoring her concern.  He tossed his head casually 
towards the bedroom door that she had already passed.
     "We should get an evidence team here to dust for prints."  
She observed, moving to his side.
     "I prefer that no one else be involved at this point, 
Scully.  I thought I'd take care of that if we found any reason 
that someone had been here."  Mulder swung the door open, 
allowing Scully to step inside.  He hesitated at the doorway.
     "Wow."  Scully murmured, leaning slightly to glance up and 
eye the mirror over the bed.  "Classy."
     "Ah Scully-"  Mulder ran his fingers through his hair 
nervously, hesitating at the doorway. "Did you, ah, wash off the 
perfume?"
     Scully smiled, remembering the startled reaction of the 
passing intern when she had thrust her wrists beneath his nose, 
demanding that he sniff.  "Before we left work."  She assured.   
Reaching into the right pocket of her coat, she pulled forth 
several evidence bags.  "These sheets haven't been changed?"
     "No."  Mulder leaned against the door jamb, watching as 
Scully circled the bed.  "I was running late.  Normally I at 
least toss the covers over the mess."
     Scully nodded.  "Running late.  That's been happening a lot 
for you."  She noted aloud.  "Usually you're the first at work."  
Again she reached into her coat, the left pocket, and pulled 
forth a couple of latex gloves.
     "Scully, I was thinking.  Maybe it's an astral projection."  
Mulder theorized.  "Many believe that if they meditate, their 
spirit rises from their body, and can travel anywhere.  Perhaps 
someone is trying to contact me, and this is the only way of 
communicating for them." He knew he was babbling, but he couldn't 
take the silence.
     "Communicating by having fake sex?"  Scully asked.  "I can 
think of several other forms of communication, and at least one 
involves a phone."
     Mulder only shrugged, not expounding on his theory.
     "Hmmm, do you think astral projections leave corporeal 
evidence?"  Carefully Scully pulled the comforter further towards 
the foot of the bed, exposing more of the sheet.  "There are 
traces of dried fluid here.  Help me fold this sheet."
     Mulder cautiously stepped forward, glancing down at the 
evidence Scully had uncovered.  A red flush stained his cheeks, 
but he bent to the task of striping the bed, hoping Scully 
wouldn't notice his embarrassment.  "Maybe it was my reaction to 
my uninvited guest."  He joked, helping Scully slide the folded 
sheet into the bag.
     "More than likely."  Scully agreed in a matter of fact tone.  
"It's more plausible that you're being stalked Mulder."
     "By whom?"
     "Well if we knew that-."  Scully let her reply hang, and 
Mulder flushed again..
     Carefully she slid her fingers between the frame and 
mattress, once again slowly circling the bed.  Suddenly she 
stopped, her slender fingers probing deeper.
     "Mulder, if you did have a, ah- guest, what would be your 
prophylactic of choice?"
      "I don't really have a brand Scully."  Mulder replied 
honestly.
     Slowly she withdrew her hand, displaying a nationally 
recognized gold foil cover.  "This isn't familiar?"
     Mulder could only shake his head, watching helplessly as 
Scully bagged the wrapper.
     "Do you want to know what I think Mulder?"  She asked 
casually.
     "Always Scully."  Though the reply was immediate, the normal 
Mulder enthusiasm was lacking.
     "I think we have enough here to suspect that you're being 
stalked."  Scully tore off the gloves and shoved them into her 
pocket.
     "To what purpose?"
     'He really doesn't know.'  Scully thought to himself, 
staring at her partner.  But not seeing just a  partner, but a 
tall, distinguished looking man.  'And how often have you been 
staring at Mulder as something other than your partner, Dana 
Katherine Scully?'  She chided herself.  "It would appear to be a 
physical attraction."  She commented, for herself and Mulder's 
information.  "Someone decided that she wants you, and has taken 
that attraction to the next level." 'Brave woman.'
     "A delusional  association, where the stalker feels that the 
victim is their property, and acts in a manner so possessive, 
that violence is the inevitable conclusion to the so called 
relationship.  If at any time, even inadvertently, the victim 
should repel the stalkers advances, or an outside individual 
threatens the fantasy relationship, they will justify murder as a 
means of ultimate protection of their envisioned way of life."  
Mulder quoted absently.  "Not to sound pretentious, but I haven't 
noticed anyone following me.  No one has approached me.  No notes 
have been left, no small tokens of favor.  It's just-nighttime 
activities."  Mulder cleared his throat, troubled by the intimacy 
of the evidence.  "And safe-sex practices don't fit into the 
profile of a stalker.  The act of impregnation would be another 
link, a goal or trophy of sorts, of a more permanent verification 
of a relationship.  In addition,  this stalker wishes to remain 
anonymous, which is highly unusual."
     "I'd like you to have a blood sample drawn. It's possible 
that you've been drugged. This might also explain why you don't 
remember the encounter in full."
     "I don't want to-"
     Scully sighed, cutting Mulder's refusal short.  "Mulder, do 
you know why the statistics on reported male rapes are so low?"
     "Now wait a minute-"
     "Because men do not report them."  Scully continued, 
ignoring Mulder's outburst.  "There are autonomic responses that 
make it physically possible for women to rape men.  But because 
men have been type-cast, its too embarrassing for them to even 
acknowledge to themselves that they weren't in control, let alone 
step forward and  report it to an agency.  Add the ridicule from 
peers, and most men suffer in silence, destroying themselves, and 
their families, in the process."
     Mulder glanced away from Scully, letting his eyes slowly 
roam the room. His jaw was set firm, and Scully recognized the 
internal struggle. 
     "Let's have these analyzed."  Scully sighed, postponing the 
need for an immediate answer.  "Maybe we'll lift a fingerprint 
off the wrapper.  There may also be traces of vaginal fluids.  
Then we can get a blood sample." She tried to ease his 
discomfiture by remaining unalarmed.
     "Scully?"  Mulder's voice was quiet, and his gaze finally 
turned to hers.  "I'll do whatever you think is necessary."


      "You told me a week."
     The cigarette smoking man nodded casually, withdrawing a 
fresh pack, and tapping it against the palm of his hand.  "The 
situation has changed.  We need more time."
     "How much of a threat is this Mulder character?"
     The lighter flared to life, and he lit a cigarette, puffing 
slowly as he thought of a reply.  "Mulder is the most formidable 
opponent that we have." He didn't add 'on Earth', though it was 
left unspoken between them. " If he were to show up prematurely, 
the exposure will completely compromise the few remaining 
members.  He already knows too much, but the - merchandise- 
warehoused at Beale will justify his search for the truth.  
Nothing will stop him from notifying the media."
     "I can't guarantee how long the 'glamyre' will affect him.  
He's already experiencing insights.  And Agent Scully is becoming 
a nuisance.  She discovered the connection between Ballmoral 
florals and Agent Mulder's sudden lack of preoccupation with 
their case load."
     "This is a problem.  Have you been compromised?"  The 
cigarette smoking man demanded.
     "Not as yet."
     "You are certain of this?"
     "I am certain."  Came the firm reply.  CSM nodded, accepting 
the statement.
     "We need only 72 hours."
     Cigarette smoking man dropped the useless butt to the 
ground, watching the last ember glow in the dark warehouse.  He 
remained, observing as his contact carefully left the structure, 
professionally keeping to the shadows.  Slowly he brought another 
cigarette to his mouth, efficiently lighting it, and enjoyed the 
silence.


     "Damn it Mulder, can't we at least finish one game?"
     Mulder stopped dribbling the basketball, staring at his 
friend Roger.  Following his friends gaze, he spotted Scully 
sitting on the bleachers, a manila file clasped in her hands.  
"I'll be just a moment."  He assured Roger, bounce passing the 
ball, and trotted to where Scully waited patiently.
     "You could've continued."  Scully assured him as he stood 
before her.  "I was enjoying the game." Then mentally added. 'And 
the view.'
     "I was losing anyway.  Whatcha' got?"
     "Why don't we step outside?"  She prompted, rising to her 
feet.  Her reluctance to talk about the case instantly warned 
Mulder it was about his own 'problem', and not a x-file.
     Once they were safely away from the building, Scully turned 
and handed Mulder the file.  "We have very little to go on."
     Mulder gave Scully a thoughtful look, then pulled forth 
several pages.   "Full index impression, but no matches."  His 
shoulders slumped, and he firmed his lips, scanning the next 
page.  "White female,  A positive, and no early detection of 
disease.  Gee, someone I can bring home to Mother."
     "Mulder, I'm sorry.  I wish it was more."  
     Roughly Mulder slid the papers  into the file, handing them 
back to Scully.  "Two days, and this is all we've gotten."  He 
stated blandly.
     "That's partially my fault.  I wasn't familiar with any of 
the techs in the lab, so I gave them a vague scenario of a rape 
case.  They were focusing on identifying a male suspect, until I 
called yesterday to get a report on what progress they had made, 
and realized the mistake.  Once they knew that the victim was 
male, they started analyzing the correct evidence."  Scully 
touched his arm in a soothing gesture.  "I think we should take 
that blood sample now.  There should still be traces of a 
narcotic, if one was used."
     Mulder nodded, but didn't look at his partner.  "I want you 
to do it Scully.  I want you to draw the blood, and do the 
analysis.  I don't want anyone else involved." 
     "Alright."  Scully agreed, letting her arm drop.  "In about 
an hour?"
     Mulder nodded again, his mouth still set in a firm line, 
staring out across the manicured lawns in front of the gym.  
"Roger is waiting."  He excused, turning suddenly and heading 
back into the gym.
     Scully watched as he headed back into the gym, feeling 
Mulder's distress, but not knowing how to heal it.


     Turning off her computer, Scully sighed.  So far not much 
had been revealed from the blood work up done on Mulder. There 
was no trace evidence of any form of narcotic used.  A glance at 
the clock on the wall revealed to her that it was three in the 
morning.  
     Arching her back, she stretched, feeling the tension in her 
shoulders ease.  Letting her head fall forward, she closed her 
eyes, allowing the tiredness that she held at bay invade her 
body.  The case was taking its toll.  They're were perilously 
close to ground that they had silently agreed was off limits.  
Mulder was claustrophobically private, and though Scully knew 
more about his personal history than possibly his shrink, his 
intimate past was mostly conjecture on her part.  What did Mulder 
do in his spare time?  When did Mulder have spare time, for that 
matter.
     Scully
     Immediately she stopped, her arms still out stretched, her 
eyes growing wide.  The voice was definitely Mulders, but-
     Scully
     She knew how.  There had always been some deep connection 
between them, a perceptivity that allowed them to work so well 
together.  Springing from her chair, she snatched the cordless 
phone, thumbing Mulder's auto dial, all thoughts of sleep 
fleeing.  As the numbers played in her ear, she moved into her 
bedroom, withdrawing her SIG Sauer from the nightstand.   "Pick 
up, pick up."  She chanted, removing the clip and checking the 
magazine.  The phone stopped ringing.  "Mulder?"
    There was a pause, then a groggy voice filled the receiver.  
"Scully?"
    "Mulder, are you alright?"
    Silence hung over the phone line, and Scullys unease 
increased.  "Mulder?!"  She demanded his attention.
    "It happened again."  He whispered.
    Scully was reaching for her keys, and moving through the 
living-room.  "I'll be right there."  


     Scully used her own key to enter Mulder's apartment, her gun 
drawn as a protective measure.  The only light that illuminated 
the living-room came from the fish tank in the corner.  
Cautiously she stepped inside, shutting the door behind her, and 
throwing the bolt.  "Mulder?"  She called out.
     "In here."  The voice came from her right, and she turned 
towards the bedroom. The room was lit by a single bedside lamp, 
casting deep shadows into the corners.  Her look towards the bed 
revealed its empty state, and she moved further into the room.  
When she reached the foot of the waterbed, she spotted Mulder, 
crouched against the wall, clad only in a pair of sweat pants.
     "Oh Mulder."  She moved by his side, holstering her side 
arm.  Leaning forward, she tilted his chin up, looking into his 
eyes.  They looked unfocused and dazed, but the pupils seemed 
normal for the low amount of light. 
     "Scully, I can't remember anything.  I just know that she 
was here."
    "I think you're going into shock."  She solicitously placed 
her hand to his forehead, feeling the clamminess of his skin.  
Her slender fingers slid down to his throat, reassured by the 
strong and steady pulse.
     "I locked the doors, and I checked the windows, just in 
case.  But she still made it in."  He crossed his arms over his 
chest, an unconscious protective measure.  "I even forced myself 
to stay up.  I didn't even go to bed until one."  He snorted a 
laugh.  "That's early for me."
     "The door was locked when I arrived."  Scully murmured.  In 
the dim light she checked his exposed skin. Though there were a 
few new bruises, they weren't serious.  If the situation weren't 
so dangerous, she would tease Mulder about his 'hickeys'.  "Most 
home intruders don't bother locking up when they leave."
     "I know what you're going to say."  Mulder watched Scully as 
her hands gently checked his chest and stomach for any signs of 
harm.  " "Mulder, we need to get you to the hospital." Am I 
right?"
     "Mulder, we need to get you to the hospital."  Scully 
repeated dutifully.
     Mulder smiled, nodding his head.  "You know, there are 
probably a thousand, no ten thousand men in America who would 
kill to have the problem I'm having right at this moment."
     "Nobody enjoys rape Mulder."  Scully admonished.  "And I 
know that you're using humor to hide your own unease."
     "How did you know?"  Mulder asked, focusing on Scully.  Her 
face was mere inches away from his, but her attention was 
centered on his health.  Mulder longed to reach forward and 
caress that soft skin, but his hands remained crossed over his 
abdomen. 
     Scully gently held his hands, lifting them from his stomach, 
then letting them settle once more, satisfied that he was 
unharmed.  She knew that he wasn't referring to his joke, but to 
the mental distress summons that had prompted her call. 
"Intuition."  She answered, shrugging dismissively, unable to 
conceive of a better explanation .  "I wish you'd reconsider."
     "No hospital Scully."  Mulder said firmly, no humor in his 
tone.  Their eyes locked.
     Scully nodded.  "Okay, then you're coming home with me."  
She said in a  matter of fact tone, rising to her feet.
     "And have this woman attack you, possibly kill you.  No way 
Scully, I can't go to your place either.  In fact, I shouldn't 
have let you come here."  Mulder pulled his feet up under him, 
and stood up, Scully helping him.  "If this is a stalker we can't 
discount the fact that you may be in  jeopardy right at this 
moment."
     "You can't be alone right now Mulder."
     "I don't need your protection."
     Scully sighed loudly.  "Yes you do Mulder.  Don't you see, 
you can't stop this person.  She is invading your home, and your 
life. Next she could interfere with our job. Do you want to live 
in fear?"  Scully took several steps away from her partner, 
afraid of completely losing her temper.  "We should request that 
you have protective surveillance." 
     "Absolutely not."
     "Why do I even bother!  God! You can be such a jerk!"  She 
yelled at the room at large.  "Fine, have it your way.  I'm 
leaving.  I'm going home, and I'm going to bed, and I'm not going 
to worry about you." 'Yeah right.'  She mentally scolded herself.  
"I'll let myself out."
     "Scully-thank you for coming over."  Mulder whispered.
     Stopping at the bedroom doorway, Scully turned slightly, 
allowing Mulder see the concerned tears in her eyes.  "Until you 
face the fact that you've been violated, you're never going to 
heal.  You know more about  human nature and mind than I.  Start 
thinking back on your training Mulder.  You're in extreme denial, 
and no amount of joking is going to make it go away. And maybe 
one day I won't be able to get here in time to help you." 
     Mulder watched Scully leave, knowing that she was right.  


     Scully leaned forward in the car seat, allowing her head to 
rest against the steering wheel.  Fatigue was finally catching up 
with her, and she seriously doubted her ability to drive home.  A 
twenty four hour Starbucks in the immediate area would have been 
welcome, but she knew that one wasn't available-yet.  Sighing, 
she thrust the key into the ignition, and started the car.
     "Don't be afraid."
     Scully physically jumped as if she had been struck, a gasp 
escaping from her lips.
     "I didn't know how else to approach you."  The voice from 
the backseat whispered.  Scully started to turn in her seat.  
"Don't, we're being watched.  Just start driving."
     "Watched by whom?"  Scully whispered, doing as the voice 
said.  Carelessly she pulled out onto the street, and started 
off.  Luckily the streets were deserted at this time of the 
morning.
     "Someone, I don't know who for sure."  
     "Who are you?"
     "A friend."  The voice replied.  Scully glanced in the rear 
view mirror, but her unwanted passenger stayed in the shadowed 
corner.  "My name isn't important, but I work in the records 
department.  I was the one who ran the scan on your finger print 
sample."
     "Those finger prints did have a match!"  Scully exclaimed.
     A sighed escaped from her visitor.  "Yes, but I was 
instructed by my supervisor to tell you that they were not on 
file.  No match."
     "Why?  Why withhold the identity?"
     "Because the finger prints belong to a CIA operative.  A 
deep-cover operative.  I don't know her real name, but her code 
name is Winter."
     Scully slowed for a red light, glancing into the rear view 
mirror again.  "Why are you telling me this?"
     "I owe Agent Mulder.  He saved my life."
     "Why should I believe you?"  Scully demanded, pulling away 
when the light changed again.
     "I don't know how I could possibly make you believe me, and 
I'm not going to even try.  But if Winter is interested in 
Mulder, then he has a serious problem."  The passenger shifted.  
"And so do you."
     "What does this Winter do?"
     Again a sighed escaped from the back seat.  "I don't know 
for sure.  The rumor is that 
she's an assassin killer.  If someone is threatening someone 
important, she will find them first.  All I know is that she is 
very good at what she does.  Pull over."
     Obediently Scully pulled the car over into a section covered 
in shadows.  
     "Please remember, I risked everything to tell you this."  
She flung open the door and slid out.  Quickly she was swallowed 
up in the shadows.  
     Scully didn't pause but pulled back out onto the street.
     Things just got a little more complicated.

     Scully walked into the office early, or what she believed 
was early.  Mulder had already arrived, and the office was in a 
horrible state of disrepair.  "What's going on?"  She asked, 
unable to keep the shock from creeping into her voice.
     "A thought occurred to me after you left Scully."  Mulder 
straightened up from behind the desk, plopping several more files 
onto the already huge pile.  "I'm being distracted."
     "You can say that again."  Scully muttered, looking 
hopelessly at her side of the desk, and deciding to set her 
briefcase on the floor next to the door.
     "I must've--"
      "We."  Scully corrected, arching a brow in his direction.
       "We must've come too close to something important."  
Mulder corrected himself without skipping a beat.  "Deep Throat 
once told me that a lie is best hidden between to truths.  But 
maybe there was no way to hide this truth, so an outside 
distraction was introduced."
     "But I've been unaffected."
     Mulder stopped, looking a Scully in surprise.  "Not really.  
You're preoccupied in finding the explanation for my diversion."
     "Killing two birds with one stone."  Scully murmured, 
following Mulder's reasoning.
     "Now we just need to figure out what we were onto, and who's 
throwing the stones."
     Scully looked at the piles of work, realizing the daunting 
task he was presenting.  Sighing, she slipped out of her blazer 
and draped it over the back of the nearest chair.  "Mulder, 
Spender left us at least fifty cases, some not even researched 
yet."
     "And some he tried to shred."  Mulder added, tossing his 
head towards the desk side shredder. 
     "It could be anyone one of these."  Though she complained 
out of habit, she conscientiously grabbed the first folder and 
started to read.
     Mulder settled himself onto the floor, tackling the stack he 
had left there.  "It's got to be here Scully."  


     For hours the only sound that broke the silence was the 
occasional rifling of paper, the scratch of a pen and the 
intermittent phone call.  Scully would sporadically wander down 
the hall and retrieve some coffee, giving her body much needed 
exercise.  But Mulder remained fixed were he was, doggedly going 
through case after case, memorizing the smallest details, and 
sorting files by similarities.
     Scully sipped at her mug of coffee, watching her partner 
with concerned eyes.  Mulder was a mess.  He obviously hadn't 
gone back to sleep after his encounter, and most likely had come 
straight here.  His hair was uncombed, and a deep shadow covered 
his jaw since he hadn't taken time to shave.  He was clad in a 
pair of jeans that had seen better days, and an old T-shirt.  
Setting her cup down, Scully couldn't help but admire the 
handsome, rugged image he presented.
     "Mulder, there's something I need to tell you."
     "Hmmm?"  The reply was muffled, his eyes never lifting from 
the report in front of him.
      "About last night."
     That caused Mulder to pause, and he looked up at Scully.
     "After I left your apartment, a woman tried to give me a 
warning."
     "She threatened you?"  Mulder demanded, rising to his feet.
     "No, nothing like that.  But she warned me that we were in 
possible danger."  Quickly Scully repeated the conversation she 
had had the night before with the stranger.
     Mulder disgusted the new bit of information.  "It doesn't 
make sense Scully.  Why send  a covert operative on what would 
essentially be considered a baby-sitting assignment?"
     "I asked myself that question too."  Scully shrugged.  "It 
could be that she is a member of their group, and they wanted to 
keep this internal."
     Unable to stifle a yawn, he stretched, raising his arms high 
over his head.  "I think we should call it a night."
     "The offer still stands."  Scully automatically volunteered.  
     "Thanks Scully, but I've made other arrangements.  Not as 
pleasant as what you're offering me, but at least I won't be 
alone."
     Scully nodded.  "Can I reach you by phone if I have too?"  
She asked, remembering the mental distress call she had received.
    Mulder patted his side, feeling the slim Nokia phone perched 
there.  "Shouldn't be a problem."


    "Mulder, its time to go."
     Leaning back in his chair, Mulder suddenly noticed that the 
library was dark and empty.  "Marcy, I did it again."  He started 
to apologize.
     "You sure did."  She quickly agreed, straightening the 
reference books that Mulder had been pouring over for the last 
two hours.  "This is some serious stuff."  
     "Well, I'm a serious kinda guy."
    Marcy smiled, efficiently stacking the books on a nearby cart 
for returns.  "Did you need any of these?"
     Shoving the chair back, Mulder slowly got to his feet, 
stretching to ease stiffened muscles.  "No, its not quite what I 
needed."
     "Journeys beyond the body?  Astral projection?"  She read 
the titles aloud, her tone curious.  "Are you chasing ghosts 
now?"
     "I thought I was, but now-"  He let the sentence hang, 
glancing at his watch.  "Holy sh--Marcy I am so sorry.  Why 
didn't you stop me sooner?"
     "I had some work to catch up on, and you're never a bother.  
Besides, its gets a little spooky in here after close, it was 
nice knowing that I wasn't alone."
     Mulder grimaced at the use of the familiar adjective, giving 
Marcy a pained smile.  Pulling his cell phone out of his jacket 
pocket, he switched it on.  Out of courtesy to the other library 
patrons he had shut it off.  "I owe you big time Marcy."  
Punching in several numbers, he waited for someone to answer.
     "Ha!  You owe me big three times over."  She laughed, 
heading back to the front desk.  Mulder trotted along, the phone 
pressed to his ear.  On the fourth ring, a familiar voice 
answered.
     "Mulder, where the hell are you?"
     "At the library.  I'm sorry I didn't call sooner Mom, but I 
was a little distracted."
     "Say hello to the exquisite Marcy for me Mulder."  Frohike 
enthused.  "Scully's called four times already this evening, you 
had better get back to her.  I think she's almost tempted to come 
over.  On second thought, forget the call, don't come over, and 
I'll tell you about it all in the morning."
     "In your dreams Melvin.  I'm about twenty minutes away, is 
the invitation still open?"
     "Of course.  We even left you some pizza."
     Mulder arrived at the front counter, watching as Marcy 
searched for her keys.  "Hey guys, I appreciate this."
     "No problem Mulder.  See you in a few."
     Mulder slipped the phone back into his jacket pocket, 
scanning the titles of the books that remained laying about the 
desk.  "Can I get you a coffee at least?"  He asked, pulling 
forth a leather bound book, flipping to the cover page.  "Or how 
about a late dinner?"
     "That would be lovely, but I can't."  Marcy grabbed her 
jacket and slipped into it.  "Maybe another time."
     "C'mon Marcy.  Pasta, wine, soft music, and a little 
candlelight.  It's the least I can do."  Mulder urged.  He 
stepped over to the automated check out, slipped his card onto 
the tray, and checked out the book.  "Two friends talking about 
old times together."
     Setting her lips in a firm line, she shook her head.  "Your 
friends are waiting for you."
     Mulder gave her his best engaging grin.  "Oh, the Gunman 
won't mind."
     "Mulder, do you remember what didn't happen the last time we 
went out?"  Snapping the desk lamp off, she moved around the 
counter.  The only illumination left was the security lights, 
casting them into deep shadows.  "It was four years ago.  We went 
to Antonio's, and were surrounded by couples, and soft lights, 
and good music."  A dreamy quality crept into her voice, but then 
the timbre changed.  "For all of fifteen minutes.  The waiter 
hadn't even come to take our order when your partner called.  And 
suddenly, I'm alone, surrounded by happy couples, soft 
candlelight, music, and your apologies ringing in my ears."
     "Let me make that up to you."  He implored sincerely.  "I'll 
turn off the phone, we'll go where you want to go, and I'll allow 
no outside distractions."
     "Its too late Fox."  Reaching up she caressed the side of 
his cheek with the palm of her hand. Mulder felt the coolness of 
the ring that now rested on her finger.  "Three months after that 
night I met Jim.  We've been married for two years now."
     Mulder dipped his head in embarrassment.  "Congratulations."
     "Thanks."  Marcy put her arm in his, and they walked towards 
the door.  "Say 'hey' to the guys for me."
     

     "Hey guys, did you know that Marcy got married?"
     Three pairs of eyes glanced up from the television.  "Yeah 
it was in all the society pages."  Langly offered.
     "Married  Senator James Francis Concannon, democrat, 
Maryland, lace curtain Catholic."  Frohike recited.  "August 
16th, the day my heart broke into a million pieces."
     Mulder raised his eyebrows at the dramatic news.  
     "You were a little distracted at the time."  Byers offered.  
"With Scully ill-"  He let the information hang.
     "Well, that takes some of the sting out of it."  Mulder 
replied, moving over to the couch and plopping unceremoniously 
between Frohike and Langly.  "I just made a pass at her."
      The three chuckled, and Mulder had to join in.  "I think 
she was tempted, for a second."  He added, reaching forward to 
snatch a cold slice of pizza.
     "Sure she was.  A woman will always select a G-man over a 
state Senator.  Its common knowledge."  Byers quipped, his gaze 
once more on the computer screen in front of him.
     "They're always tempted."  Frohike verified.  "Then morality 
rears its ugly head."
     Mulder's phone shrilled across the room, and Byers grabbed 
it off the table, tossing it to his friend.
     "Mulder."
     "So these are the arrangements you made?"
     Scully's voice held a teasing quality, and he knew that he 
wasn't in trouble for forgetting to call her back.  "Yeah, I 
figure this would be the last place to find any action."
     Scully tried to stifle a snicker, but was unsuccessful. She 
could hear Frohike cooing to her in the back ground.  "I tried to 
call earlier."
     "Yeah, I'm sorry about that, but I was at the library so I 
shut off my phone."  Mulder snagged another slice of pizza and 
took a bite.  "I was doing some additional research."
He managed to speak around his full mouth.
     "That sounds attractive."  Scully admonished,  and she could 
imagine Mulder's impish grin at her scolding.
     "I ran Winter past the guys here, and the verdicts not 
good."  Mulder informed her, his tone serious.  He took a swig of 
beer, then cleared his throat.  "There is an assassin by the name 
of Winter, and some high profile operations with confirmed kills 
attached to the name.  Other than that, not much is known."
     "Wonderful."  Scully murmured, an uncomfortable silence 
hanging between them.
     Though Mulder was trying to be unconcerned with the whole 
ordeal, knowing he was in full denial as Scully earlier claimed, 
he tried to erase her unease by teasing.  "C'mon over Scully, 
there's room for one more.  Frohike assures me its okay."  Mulder 
joked.  "We'll order more pizza."
     Scully looked at her bedside clock, noting the time.  "As 
tempting as that is, I'll have to pass.  Pizza at eleven at night 
doesn't quite do it for me."
     "And here I thought the attraction was for Melvin." 
     Scully did laugh at that, drawing a chuckle from her 
partner.  "You guys be good."  She admonished, then let her voice 
drop to a whisper.  "Good night Mulder."
     A small thrill ran down Mulder's spine at the sexy 
inflection in her voice, and he closed his eyes briefly, savoring 
the feeling.  "Good night Dana."  He murmured back, his voice 
husky.  When he ended the call, he realized that three pairs of 
eyes were again staring at him.  "What?"  He asked, confused.
     Frohike's mouth was set in a firm line.  "Are you hitting on 
my girl?"
     
 
     Mulder continued flipping through channels, not really 
knowing or caring what was on, but going through the motions.  
Byers had left about fifteen minutes after his phone call to 
Scully.  Frohike and Langly had wandered into their own dens 
about twenty after that.  Bloated with pepperoni pizza and a 
couple of Heineken's, Mulder couldn't find sleep.  In fact an odd 
restlessness, almost a withdrawal invaded him.  He needed to do 
something, but the constant mental reflections drew a complete 
blank, his idetic memory having failed.   
     Sighing, he sat up and grabbed the book he had scanned at 
the library.  "Good witch, good spells."  He intoned, flipping 
through the forwards.  The writing was dry, and formatted in 
historical reference.  It dealt mainly with Celtic beliefs that 
witches were closer to doctors than the modern day 'Witcheypoo'  
stereotypes that had plagued them since before the Pilgrims 
landed at Plymouth Rock.  A complete chapter on love spells 
caused him to raise his eyebrow, but his eyes focused on one type 
in particular.  

'Glamyre: Once a spell had been cast upon the warrior or lady of 
choice, they will only see that which they most desire.  A song 
on the wind, or the fragrance of a flower will be that which will 
inspire your swain.  But be wary, for the spell is fleeting.  
Those that wish a lasting love should resist using this 
enchantment.  Also see: Siren's Song.

     Mulder forwarded through the pages, spotting Siren's song.

Siren's Song: This haunting cry will cause distraction and 
confusion.  Strong men have bowed before its beauty, 
relinquishing all control.  A weak spell, easily dispelled by a 
word or sound.  


     Mulder grabbed his cell phone, thumbing Scully's auto-dial.  
     "Hello?" She had picked up by the second ring, her voice 
groggy.
    "Scully, its me.  Listen, I was just reading this book on 
spells."
     Scully rolled over onto her back, her eyes were so blurry 
that it took her several seconds to focus on the red numbers to 
see the time.  "Mulder, go to bed."
    "I can't sleep."  He continued without pause, knowing she was 
listening.  "There's a spell, called Glamyre, a Celtic spell, 
that's triggered by sound or smell.   There's also a Siren's 
Song, that causes distraction and confusion."
     "Mulder, its two in the morning, Saturday morning." She 
stressed.  "I don't have to work today."  She muttered.  "Go to 
sleep."
     "Scully, this person is using witchcraft to blind me to what 
I'm supposed to be investigating.  And successfully grabbing your 
attention in the process."
     "Sailor's tale."  She yawned hugely.
     "What?  Scully are you awake?"
     Sighing, she scooted up towards the headboard, knowing 
Mulder was too excited to allow her to sleep.  "Siren's song is a 
sailor's tale."  She repeated.  "My father told us stories about 
how mermaids would sit on a deserted outcropping of rock, and 
sing to the sailors.  Their songs were supposed to be so 
disconsolate that the captain would be compelled to run his ship 
aground, or sink it.  Out of shame."
     "Scully, what if we stumbled across something so sensitive 
that they knew they had to stop us from investigating?"
     "So they sent a witch?  C'mon Mulder, that's a bit out 
there, even for you."  Scully couldn't hide her scorn.  "And 
besides, this woman Winter, she's a CIA spook, not a witch. You 
honestly want me to believe that the CIA is hiring witch 
prostitutes? What is she, the American Mata Hari?"
     Mulder ignored her snide comment, attributing it to lack of 
sleep.  "I was thinking about our impromptu warning.  I don't 
think I have a friend in the fingerprinting steno pool."
     "Mulder, you don't have any friends."
     "I have you Scully."
     She laughed.  "Not if you keep calling me at this hour."
     "What if your upright citizen was actually the woman who's 
been distracting me."  Mulder jumped back  on track.  "What 
better way to divert attention.  She isn't acting like a stalker, 
we've determined that.  I believe she is a spook, with a specific 
agenda. She could even be the person responsible for my problem."  
     "I don't know Mulder, that seems extreme.  She knew about 
the fingerprint we lifted."
     "Think about it Scully.  Maybe she purposely left behind 
that wrapper."
     Scully shook her head in confusion.  "Purposely exposed 
herself?  What if they had released her name to us, she would've 
had no control over the situation.  And everything so far points 
to a person who's a type A personality, a control freak."
     "But her name was given to us.  What better way to control a 
situation than by having command of all the available 
information.  And in effect, how does having her operative name 
help us?  We can't research it without some kind of red flag 
going off by some watch dog computer system.  It's useless 
information."
     "Information to caution us.  That we're not playing with an 
amateur."  Scully theorized. "But to keep us away from what?"
     "California."  He concluded suddenly.  "Beale Air Force 
base."


     Winter's pace was steady as she jogged down the road, the 
rhythmic strike of her feet as they hit the pavement her only 
companion.  It was early still, one of the few times that 
Washington D.C. was  not crowded with office employees, or over-
run with tourists.  Uninterrupted, she ran past the mall and its 
well manicured surface.  Her breath remained even, her pace 
fixed, and she headed away from the government buildings, past 
the commercial offices and into the surrounding suburbs.  She 
entered a small park, slowing her jog to a fast walk, then a 
stroll.  As she neared a stand of sycamores, she halted, starting 
to stretch.
     "Mulder is now heading to California."  She spoke aloud.
     "It will do him no good, all of the evidence has been 
removed."
     Winter nodded, continuing her stretching exercises.  "And 
the witnesses?"
     A click and a flare of fire was heard, but not seen in the 
shadows of the towering trees.  "Planted, one and all.  He'll 
glean no new information."
     "Then my job is done."  Winter stated.
     "Yes."  
     Winter reached forward, taking the cigarette from the 
smoking man, and took a long drag.  She held the smoke, savoring 
the taste, and slowly exhaled.  Extending her hand, she gently 
placed the cigarette between his lips, caressing his lined face 
in an almost gracious fashion.  "Power is as  intoxicating as it 
is deadly."
     Smoking man simply returned her perusal, drawing on the 
cigarette.
     Smiling, she turned and jogged back towards the city.



     Mulder slammed the car door, placed his hands on his hips, 
and stared across the orchard of peaches.  Scully exited the car 
in a more leisurely fashion, raising a handkerchief to her nose 
to block the smell of decaying fruit.  The trees where heavy with 
produce, with piles scattered around the ground.  Everywhere they 
looked, people harvested,  moving boxes and trays of fruit as the 
order-picker methodically emptied each tree.
     "Can I help you?"
    Mulder turned to see a young gentleman who had just crossed 
the two lane road.  "Yes, I'm Fox Mulder, FBI, this is my partner 
Dana Scully."  Dutifully he withdrew his badge.  "We're 
investigating several sightings of hovering lights, and possible 
UFO involvement.  Do you know anything about that?"
     The man smiled.  "Jerry Tackitt."  He reached forward, 
offering his hand to Mulder.  The handshake was firm, and Mulder 
couldn't help but be impressed with the calluses that already 
covered his hand.  Mr. Tackitt couldn't be more than twenty-five 
years old, if he was a day.  "This is my Dad's place.  Yeah, I 
saw the lights."  He said  in  a matter of fact tone. "You Feds 
actually investigate this kind of stuff?" 
     "You don't seem concerned."
     "Mr. Mulder, I've lived in Linda all of my life.  And most 
of that time was spent  hearing tales of what flies out of that 
base just twenty miles up the road.  And if my Dad wasn't going 
on about spy planes, my Grandpa was reliving troop marches when 
it used to be called Camp Beale."  Jerry shook his head with a 
smile, sending a wink in Scully's direction.  "No sir, I ain't 
too concerned."
    Scully came around the front of the vehicle, giving a slight 
smile to Jerry.  "Mulder, can I speak with you a moment?"  
     "Yeah Scully?"  Though he tried, Mulder couldn't hide the 
annoyed tone of his voice.  
     As Jerry moved off to join the workers in the field, Scully 
graciously ignored Mulder's irritation.  "Power lines."  She 
nodded her head towards the huge towers that cut across the 
acreage.  "Power lines, and rotting vegetation and fertilizer.  
Its been proven that fermenting fruits, combined with the gases 
from the decaying waste, or manure, interact with the power going 
through those high voltage lines.  The chemical reaction, when 
the combination is proportionate, is so volatile that greenish 
hazes, and occasional flashes of lights, are not uncommon."
     Mulder let his eyes follow the direction of the power lines, 
his gaze thoughtful.  "You've been watching the Discovery channel 
again." 
     Scully smiled.  "Nope.  MacGyver."
     Mulder cast her a surprised look.  "We have seven witnesses 
Scully.  All seven of these people were startled by the 
agricultural equivalent of flatulence?"
     Scully nodded.  "I'm not saying we shouldn't interview more 
people.  But I just wanted to share some information with you."
    It was Mulder's turn to nod.  "Let's get this over with."



     "It's ladies night at the three M raceway.  You'd get in 
free."
     Scully paused in front of her door, inserting the key, but 
letting it dangle.  "I think I'll pass."
     "C'mon Scully, let's not make this trip a total loss."  
Mulder's nose remained buried in the leaflet he had picked up at 
the front desk of the Oxbow Inn.  He was stopped outside his own 
room.  "Beer's on me."
     Grasping the keys, Scully opened the door, and tossed her 
overnight bag inside.  "I don't think circle track racing is 
covered in our job duties.  And don't think I failed to notice 
that the three M is directly across the road from the Tackitt 
peach orchards."
     Mulder smiled a sheepish grin.  "Okay, let's blow off the 
circle track, and park in the fields.  We could neck."
     'What would he do if I said okay?'  Dana wondered for a 
moment, but grew instantly serious.  "If you want to place a 
rotting orchard under surveillance that's fine.  Just let me 
change into something more comfortable.  But I won't make any 
promises about the necking."  She teased, stepping inside her 
room, and firmly closing the door behind her.
     Mulder was stunned momentarily, then a wicked smile curved 
his lips.  Fumbling for his pass key, he too went inside to 
change.


     "You're not serious?"
     Mulder tossed several sunflower shells out of his window, 
nodding his head.  "I think all leads have been contaminated.  We 
should never have entertained the idea that it would be 
otherwise."
    Scully looked out the front windshield at nothing.  It was so 
dark, she could barely make out the neat rows of trees before 
them.  A quarter moon struggled in vain to penetrate the heavy 
clouds, and the humidity had shot way up in the past half hour.  
Thunder rumbled across the fields, promising more violence as it 
moved swiftly closer.  Luckily no lightning had appeared, though 
Scully didn't imagine that they would be spared a free light 
show.  "So we are sitting in a smelly field, on a Saturday night, 
waiting for a phenomenon that may not appear, based on 
information extracted from possibly corrupted eye-witness 
testimony."
     "Or completely fabricated testimony."  He added, crunching a 
new seed.
     "Let's go back to the motel Mulder."  Scully advised after a 
long silence.
     Surprisingly, Mulder reached forward and started the engine. 
It was only a half mile of pitted gravel path before they were on 
Hammington-Smartville Road, headed towards Beale Highway.  It was 
a narrow, twisting, two lane road, with deep ditches running 
parallel just inches from the road way.  Scully grasped her hand 
rest unconsciously, growing nervous as Mulder navigated the 
turns.  On top of the wicked conditions of the road, thick tule 
fog from the rice fields obscured the route, making the trip even 
more treacherous.
     "Maybe we waited too long."  Mulder mumbled, easing off the 
accelerator.  Scully could only nod in agreement, afraid to trust 
her voice.  Scully could feel the strain on her eyes as she tried 
to peer deeper into the fog, but her anxious stare was met only 
by the eerie illumination of the haze as they traveled 
cautiously.  
     Suddenly something stepped out before them.  A man in flight 
gear, and what looked like a parachute fluttering around him, 
emerged from the mist.  "Mulder, look out!"  Scully cried 
automatically, but Mulder was already hitting the brakes. She 
braced her hand against the dash, expecting the dull, sickening 
thud of the helpless man being struck by the rental car, her eyes 
locking with the pilots. He showed no fear, and was actually 
moving towards them. 
      The squeal of brakes filled the night air, and the car 
fishtailed crazily as Mulder struggled with the steering, keeping 
the car from plunging off the side of the road. "Move!"  Mulder 
shouted in frustration, though he knew it was a helpless gesture.  
     And then the pilot disappeared.
     As the car slowed to a stop, Scully let out her breath, and 
turned her confused stare to Mulder.  Mulder's hands still 
clenched the steering wheel, his eyes fixed straight ahead.
    "What the hell?"  Scully muttered.  "Mulder-?"
    "I don't know."  He whispered.  Once again they were shrouded 
by mists, a swirling eddy of thick white.  But no sign of the 
pilot. No parachute.  Nothing but illuminated fog.
     "Are you okay?"  She murmured. 
     "I might have to change my underwear."  The joke sounded 
flat in the sudden stillness of the night.
     "We better keep moving."  Scully whispered back, though she 
really didn't know why she was continuing in the hushed tone.  
"We don't want to be rear-ended."
     "Right."  Mulder eased onto the accelerator, sending the car 
down the road again.  They remained quiet for the rest of the 
drive, each lost in their own thoughts.  
     As they moved away from the rice fields, the fog thinned, 
and completely disappeared allowing them to glimpse the few 
lights that remained on in the small town of Linda.  The Oxbow 
Inn appeared like an oasis in the dark night, and Scully almost 
sighed in relief.     'A Cheesy motel room becomes a safe haven 
from parachuting ghost.' She teased herself mentally.   'It was 
almost a movie of the week.'
     Mulder pulled up in front of their rented rooms, and with 
exaggerated slowness turned off the engine.  But he made no move 
to leave the car.  
     Scully released her seat belt, glancing at Mulder in 
concern.  
     "We just saw something, right?"  He asked, his eyes still 
fixed straight ahead.
     "We saw something, yeah."  Scully agreed.
     "A world war two pilot, right?"
     Scully paused before answering.  As she mentally reviewed 
the imagine in her mind, it did seem that his uniform was older.  
"It couldn't have possibly been."  She argued out of habit.
     "Scully, we both saw a man in the middle of a deserted road, 
dressed in fatigues, carrying a parachute."  Mulder stated, but 
he never turned to look at her, just continued to stare out the 
window.
     Thunder roared ominously overhead, shaking the car slightly 
with its elemental force.  Lightning illuminated the sky briefly, 
but was still miles away.  
     "Let's get inside Mulder."
     "Scully, you can't just ignore this."  Mulder accused 
harshly.  "Something happened just now.  Something bizarre, and 
irrational.  What does it mean? How does it effect us?  Why 
tonight?  Why on that particular stretch of road?  Who was that 
man?"
     "I'm not ignoring what happened Mulder.  But I do know that 
I won't get any answers sitting here in the middle of a lightning 
storm."  She opened her door and eased out.  "I'll grab the 
keys."  
     Mulder watched as she headed to the motel office.  



     "Go ahead Scully."  Mulder chided, leaning back against the 
headboard.  He folded his arms casually behind his head and 
crossed his shoeless feet at the ankles.  "Tell me we're tired.  
Tell me that what we saw out there was a result of fatigue.  
Another case of folie a deux."
     Scully focused on her laptop, reading the new e-mail waiting 
for her.  "No folie a deux."  She muttered.  "Mulder, you were 
right."
     Mulder's mouth dropped open suddenly.  
    "I contacted Danny earlier."  Scully continued, not noticing 
her partners astonishment.  "Miguel Ortiz was the one."
    "When was I right Scully?"  Mulder finally managed to gasp 
out.  "Not that I haven't been right in the past, but when have 
you conceded that I was correct this time?"
     "Oh stop babbling."  Scully admonished, snapping off the 
computer.  "The woman in the back of my car couldn't have done 
the fingerprint analysis.  Mr. Ortiz was the one assigned to 
running those fingerprints.  It may have been three in the 
morning, but even so I can tell the difference between a male and 
female voice."
     "What does that have to do with the pilot we spotted on the 
road?"
     Scully sighed in exasperation.  "Not a damn thing as far as 
I can tell."
     "Another smoke screen?"
     "A fairly elaborate one."  Scully pointed out.  She glared 
at her partner who rested so casually on her bed.  "Don't get too 
comfortable."  She warned.
     "Unless, that's what we were sent to see in the first place.  
Not an alien craft, but a man.  An apparition."  Mulder sat up in 
his excitement.  "Maybe the lights being reported by the witness' 
weren't just lights, but a spiritual projection, a harbinger of 
the pilot."
     Scully stood up and stretched, moving to the small bathroom 
at the side of the room.  "No one reported seeing a paratrooper."
      "The witness' weren't travelling on Hammington-Smartville 
Road, so they wouldn't have encountered the specter."  Mulder 
explained away.  "They were all stationary, either in their 
backyards, or looking out of their windows."
    "Mulder its two in the morning.  How could you possibly be 
coherent enough to analyze the information we have objectively?"
     "I'm not tired Scully."  He assured her casually, then 
seemed to notice that his partner was searching through her over-
night case.  "But you want to get some sleep."  It was more a 
statement than an observation, and he sidled to the side of the 
bed, bending to retrieve his sneakers.
     Scully couldn't hide the huge yawn, her hands still occupied 
with searching for her toothbrush.
     Mulder scooted to the end of the bed, and pointed at her 
computer.  "Can I send a quick e-mail?"
     Scully waved her toothbrush absently towards the screen.  
"Be my guest."  She closed the bathroom door.
     Mulder snapped off a quick message to the Lone Gunman, Byers 
in particular, requesting any information on the military ghost 
they had encountered on the road.  Though it was five in the 
morning in D.C. he hadn't a chance to log off from Scully's 
inter-net provider when he received a response.  Shaking his 
head, he scanned the document.

     Mulder, this could take some time, but I believe some 
sightings in the area have already been recorded.  I'll get back 
to you as soon as I can.  B of TLG

     Scully swung the door open and slowly moved across the room, 
tossing her brush haphazardly towards her over-night case.  
Without even a smile or nod towards Mulder, she turned towards 
the bed nearest the bathroom wall, and fell into it 
unceremoniously.  "Goodnight Mulder."  She mumbled into the 
pillow.
     Smiling, he shut down her laptop, and closed the lid.  
Quietly he moved to her bed, taking the comforter from the double 
that remained unoccupied, and draped it over her small frame.  
She snuggled under the material, a small smile crossing her 
features, but she never opened her eyes.
     "Goodnight Scully."  He whispered.  He gazed down for 
several moments at his sleeping partner, taking in her freshly 
washed face, and thanking God that she hadn't put that hideous 
green facial mask on. The urge to lean forward and place a gentle 
kiss on her cheek was hard to ignore, but Mulder managed to 
resist.  Instead he leaned forward to turn off the light, and 
quietly moved to the door.
     Stepping out into the night air, Mulder looked out across 
the small parking lot, and at the dark silhouette of the raised 
rail road tracks that cut through the small town.  The breeze was 
chilly, but smelled fresh from the passing summer showers. 
Luckily the thunder and lightning had moved away towards the 
mountains.  The occasional hum of traffic racing up the highway 
directly behind the motel was the only noise that penetrated the 
night.  But no hovering lights, no eerie fog and no paratrooper 
poltergeist appeared before him. 
     Sighing, he moved towards his room, patting his pocket for 
his room key, and proceeded inside.  Darkness greeted him, and he 
tried in vain the switch next to the door, but the over-head 
light refused to illuminate.  "Damn."  He spoke plainly, more in 
annoyance than anger, and eased his way into the room.  It was 
identical in set-up to Scully's room, only in reverse, and he 
managed to make it to the bathroom door in order to switch on the 
light in there.
     "Okay Fox, here's what you have."  He spoke to himself, 
hoping the sound would help him focus, shedding new light on the 
recent turn of events.  "A case reported to Spender about several 
unusual lights spotted over a rotting peach orchard.  A world war 
two ghost pilot wandering down a two lane highway."  He sat down 
at the edge of the bed, grabbed the remote, and idly flipped 
through the five channels provided by the motel.  " A woman 
stalking you."  He added quietly. "No obvious signs of a crash in 
town.  Or near the orchards.  Maybe on base itself?"  He stopped 
the television on the Playboy channel, and watched for several 
seconds, but soon his attention wandered. "But no news about a 
plane crash on base.  Witness accounts mention nothing about a 
crash, just hovering lights.  But the pilot had a deployed 
parachute.  No military test planes have been reported as flying 
from this base."  Mulder shrugged mentally.  "Like the military 
is going to offer that tidbit of information."  Clicking off the 
television, he allowed himself to fall backwards onto the bed, 
causing the springs to squeak in protest.  "Maybe not hovering 
lights?  Maybe a portal?  A circular ring of lights?"  Scanning  
his thoughts, he tried to pull the pieces together.  "A plane 
lost fifty years earlier, breaking through to now, our now, our 
today.  The pilot dead, but his ghost returned through the 
gateway, along with the plane intact?  With alien technology?"  
He closed his eyes.  "Or an exchange.  Humans for testing in swap 
for technology?  But why a ghost? Or does this substitution  
happen periodically?  Spanning decades?  Did the pilot not 
survive the alien tests?  Or is he warning us to stay away, or to 
fear the alien technology? And why does he appear now?  Does the 
arrival of an alien craft make his corporeal soul visible, a 
secondary effect to the alien technology in the area?  Or is he 
trying to tell us that there are others?  Other survivors, 
returned because-why?  Why would they be returned now?  Or at 
all?  Have the aliens learned all that they needed, then in an 
act of rectitude returned the abducted?"
     Mulder bolted straight up in bed, causing the mattress to 
dip suddenly.  "Samantha."


     Mulder slowed the rental car, turned off the driving lights, 
and approached the main gate.  A young MP approached, glancing 
for a sticker on the bumper of the car, then motioning for Mulder 
to roll down his window.  Another airman remained by the door of 
the duty shack.
     "Can I help you sir?  This is a secured installation."
     Mulder lifted his identification up for inspection.  "I'm 
Special Agent Fox Mulder with the FBI."  He tried to keep his 
tone light and casual.  "I was instructed to report to the 
Captain in charge of the crash recovery division."
     "One moment."  The airman turned to his partner, and held 
his hand out for the clipboard.  Scanning the document, he 
returned his attention to Mulder.  "I'm sorry sir, but with the 
action in Kosovo at this time, we are under an alert status.  No 
unauthorized personnel are allowed on the installation."
     Mulder gave him an irritated smile, chuckling to himself.  
"This is just great.  This just tops my list of what can go wrong 
with this assignment.  Airman, do you think I want to be out here 
at _"  Mulder twisted his wrist to glance at his watch.  "Four 
a.m.?"
     "Sir, I'm sure that you have legitimate business here on 
base, but unfortunately the Captain who was supposed to vouch you 
on failed to contact us.  Therefore you are not on the arrivals 
list."
    "Therefore I cannot go on base."  Mulder concluded, his tone 
tired and frustrated.
     "That is correct sir."  The airman commiserated.  "Unless 
you wish for me to contact the Captain, I'm afraid you'll have to 
head back into town."
     "No, that won't be necessary."  Mulder glanced around the 
area, spotting the visitor parking area.  "Actually, I'll make 
the call.  I'll just move over there."  He pointed towards the 
nearest parking place.
     "Very well sir."  The airman took a few steps back, watching 
as Mulder moved the car out of the gate path. 
     Sighing, Mulder pulled out his cellular, and the familiar 
beeps began to ring in his ear.
"Please be there-Byers?  Its me, Mulder."
     "Who else would be calling at seven in the morning?"  Byers 
complained.
     "I've got a situation.  Who do you know at Beale Air Force 
base?"
     "Beale?  I'm not sure."
      Mulder sighed loudly.  "No one from your mailing list?  No 
secret fact finder?"  Mulder could hear the frantic rustling of 
paper in the background.
     "Actually, MSgt Randy Owens is stationed there.  He's 
working at the museum."
     Mulder smiled.  "Great!  Byers, give him a wake up call and 
tell him to vouch me on base."
     "Gee Mulder, I don't know.  Its four in the morning, and I 
don't know him personally."
     "I'm not asking for a date Byers.  I just need to get on 
base."
     "He's just a name on a list Mulder!  He's a twenty-four year 
veteran.  He's not gonna vouch just anyone on base."  More 
rustling could be heard over the phone connection.  "Wait, here's 
another one."
     "Well lay it on me."
     "TSgt McAlester, Bruce.  He's working out of the machine 
shop.  I'll call him and ask him if he'll certify your entrance 
to base."
     "Byers, you're the greatest."  He started to hit the end 
call button, but paused.  "Byers, why do you think this McAlester 
will attest to my admittance?  Do you know him?"
     "No,  but anyone who's also a subscriber to the Anarchists 
Cookbook, can't be all bad.  I'll call you back if there's any 
trouble."
     Mulder snapped his phone closed, giving a friendly wave to 
the two airman standing guard.
      

     Mulder stopped his rental car outside the mobile home on 
Cherry Court.  A man stood outside, having just finished a 
cigarette,  tossing the still smoldering butt to the ground.  For 
a brief moment Mulder suspected the worse, thinking that the CSM 
knew about his entry on base, and was here to detract once again.  
But as the man moved to the passenger side of the vehicle, Mulder 
sighed in relief, noting that he was a younger man.
Mulder electronically rolled down the window.
     "You the FBI agent?"  Bruce McAlester asked, and Mulder 
nodded.  Quickly he opened the door and slid into the vacant 
seat.  "I don't know how I can help you."
     "I just have a few questions.  Sorry about the time."  
Mulder glanced at the dash clock, noticing that it was pushing 
five a.m..  
     "The man from the Magic Bullet said you were looking into 
the lights that were reported out in town?"  At Mulder's nod, 
Bruce continued.  "I don't know what to tell you really, but I've 
never seen the lights myself.  Rumor has it as some kind of 
chemical reaction with the fertilizers that the growers use."
     "Is that the official government story?"
     "Yes and no.  The brass never really discusses it."
     Mulder nodded.  "Has there been any plane crashes in the 
area?"
     Bruce laughed.  "Hell no, that would've been all over the 
news.  No hiding those anymore, even out in these parts."
     "How about civilians being brought to base?"  Mulder 
persisted. "Anything unusual of that nature?"
     "Well, we're under heightened security.  The locals know the 
drill though and they pretty much stay away from base when we are 
conducting maneuvers.  We've also had a training squad up from 
Fort Ord, conducting some kind of support assignment with INS in 
retrieving illegal migrant workers working out in the orchards.  
Herded them like sheep to the waiting transport vans.  But that's 
been in all of the papers too."  Bruce nodded his head 
thoughtfully.  "They brought in about thirty or forty people and 
kept them in the old army barracks right down the road here."  He 
tossed his thumb casually over his shoulder.  "But they weren't 
here more than a day or two, and got a little free medical 
attention before they shipped them out by transport to San Diego, 
or wherever they take those people."
     "That's an expensive way to round up people."  
     "Yes sir it is.  But that's the Army for you.  They come up 
here in their black helicopters, ruin our flight-line, and 
without so much as a 'by your leave', they take off again."  
Bruce snorted in indignation.  "It's some kind of PR thing.  The 
only problem its not a very positive view.  A lot of people in 
California think that the migrant workers are being targeted for 
political reasons."
     "Helicopters?" 
     "Yeah, the new Apaches, they had about six of them up here.  
I think they were actually giving the pilots some extra flying 
time, and just happened to make themselves available for the 
INS."
     "Do those things run silent?"
     Bruce laughed.  "Hell no!  With all of the humidity in this 
area, you can hear those fat bastards miles away.  The blades cut 
through the air with all of the subtlety of a fart in a library."  
     Mulder smiled, but his heart wasn't in it.  "Thanks 
Sergeant, thanks for all of your help."
     Grabbing the door handle, Bruce prepared to get out when 
Mulder stopped him.
    "Sergeant, have you ever seen a ghost on Hammington- 
Smartville road?  Or heard about one?"
     "Yes sir I have, well, heard about him."  He replied 
honestly.  "A world war two pilot, full flight gear and carrying 
a parachute.  A friend of mine who lives in Marysville has seen 
him once.  He was working mid-shift, going home at about eleven 
at night when, poof, this man steps out in front of his truck. 
Scared the shit out of him.  Then just as suddenly, he's gone.  
Didn't last longer than a few seconds, but he still talks about 
it every once in a while."
     "Has anyone reported this incident?"
     "No, his CO would probably send him for a psyche evaluation, 
and no matter what anyone says, that never looks good on your 
report."  Bruce swung the door open and stepped outside.  "If you 
ever need anything agent, feel free to call.  This was kinda fun 
in a spy sort of way."


      "C'mon Scully, we're outta here."
      Scully sat up suddenly in bed, casting a surprised look at 
Mulder.  "How_?"
     Mulder held up his room key.  "Funny thing, mine works in 
your door too."  He pulled her travel bag out of the closet and 
tossed it on the empty bed.  "The only flight heading for 
Washington D.C. leaves in two hours.  It takes about forty-five 
minutes to get to Sacramento airport.  Chop-chop."
     "Okay Mulder."  She glared pointedly at him, and he beat a 
hasty exit from the room.
     Ten minutes later Scully trotted down the stairs of the 
motel, her bag slung over her shoulder.  Mulder stepped forward 
and relieved her of the luggage, tossing it carelessly into the 
trunk.  Scully slipped into the passenger seat, and watched as 
Mulder quickly entered the vehicle and started the car.  Within 
moments they were travelling down the freeway.
     Scully glanced at her partners grim profile, his stare 
focused forward.  "Do you want to talk about it?"  She ventured.
     "No."
     Mentally she sighed, watching the scenery flash by. 
     "They did it Scully."
     His voice was tight as he tried to control his anger.  
Scully waited patiently, knowing that he was using the pause to 
focus his thoughts.
     "They diverted our attention long enough to move the 
victims, and clean up all trace evidence that they were here."
     Scully knew who the ambiguous they were, but not the 
victims.  "What victims Mulder?"
     "I went on base last night."
     Scully couldn't hide her surprise.  "When?  After you left 
my room?"  It sounded rather risqu=82, but Scully was too 
astonished by his announcement to worry about the implication.  
"Mulder, that was two in the morning!"
     "They were up."  He dismissed casually.  "Anyway, by the 
time I got up there it was after three-thirty.  Here_"  Reaching 
to the backseat, he pulled a copy of the local newspaper from the 
back and handed to her.  "I met with a sergeant who works in 
sheet metal, or something, and he saw some of the people that 
they brought to base."
     Scully quickly scanned the article.  "These illegal aliens?"
     "I don't think they were aliens, illegal or otherwise.  I 
think that those people were recovered abductees."  Mulder 
quickly the facts he had pieced together after leaving her room.  
"And someone wanted to make sure we weren't available to witness 
the event."
     Scully tossed the paper into the back seat.  "It doesn't 
make sense Mulder."
     "Maybe they told the local news that they were sweeping for 
illegal aliens,  when they had no intention of using INS in the 
area.  Or they just posed as INS, or INS had a legitimate sweep 
happening in the area, and the powers that be orchestrated this 
pickup to coincide with the illegal immigration purge."  Mulder 
slammed his fist angrily against the steering wheel.  "We'll 
never find out the truth now.  The leads are too old."
     Scully sensed his disappointment.  "You were hoping that 
Samantha was among them?"
     Mulder shot a quick look at Scully, then returned his gaze 
forward, refusing to answer.  Scully prepared herself for a long 
flight home.



     "Sir, I'm sorry if I gave you the wrong impression, but I'm 
not interested."
     Mulder glanced up from his drink, turning his head slightly 
to focus on the table closet to the bar.  A man about forty-five 
years old, pot bellied, balding and short stood there, pressing a 
fruit flavored drink towards the woman who sat . She was dressed 
casually in a nice blouse and trousers, her expression calm as 
she rebutted the man's advances.  Her hair was short and blonde, 
spiked with some sort of gel, but it was flattering to her small 
features.  The make-up was light and classic, someone who was 
confident that her looks didn't need the enhancement of too much 
make-up.
     The man slurred something, but his tone was too deep and 
indistinct for Mulder to understand.  The flash of annoyance on 
the pixyish face was enough to cause him concern, and he stood.
     "Mulder."  Frank cautioned from behind the bar.
     Mulder just waved a casual hand towards the bartender, and 
took two strides forward, coming up beside the man.  "What seems 
to be the problem?"
     The woman graced Mulder with a genuine smile.  Baldy grew 
irritated that someone else got a hopeful response from his 
intended target.  Straightening, he turned his inebriated look 
towards Mulder, and quickly sobered.  Mulder did nothing more 
than stand over the man, using his height to advantage.  He had 
an intimidating seven inches on the little twerp.  Mumbling his 
excuses, he tottered off, leaving Mulder and the blonde alone.
     "Thank you."  Came the quiet gratefulness, and she motioned 
to the chair besides hers.  
     Mulder hesitated for only a moment, then took the pro-
offered seat.  Frank dutifully brought his drink over, clearing 
away the offensive fruit concoction left by the bested swain.
     "Do you make it a habit to rescue damsels in distress?"
      Mulder smiled.  "At least once a day, and twice on 
Sundays."
     Mulder was charmed by her spontaneous smile, noting the 
small wrinkles forming at the corner of her eyes.  Obviously she 
was someone who smiled often.  
     He had come into the pub with the soul intention of going on 
a complete bender, throwing caution and common sense to the wind.  
The drink that sat before him was his third, but now he hesitated 
to drink it. Maybe keeping some semblance of control could work 
to his advantage. After the disillusionment of the Beale fiasco, 
and the loss of control in his personal life, he needed something 
to firm his confidence.  Scully had parted his company 
immediately after their flight had landed, offering no 
consolation to his ego.  The woman who sat across from him was 
attractive, and perhaps could be induced to spend some quality 
time with him.  A night of unbridled sex might be just what he 
needed to bolster his bruised libido.  
     "I'm not keeping you from anyone?"  Mulder asked cautiously.
     She shook her head.  "No, I seemed to have been stood up.  
Girls night out seems to be a bust."
     "I'm Fox Mulder."  He reached across the table, offering his 
hand.  It was filled quickly by hers, her flesh soft and warm in 
his embrace.
      "Erin Hale."



     Mulder reveled in the soft purrs he'd elicited from his 
companion.  He was in control, not allowing Erin any dominance in 
their sexual contest.  Every caress, every stroke was his 
impulse, his desire.  Mulder wasn't being selfish, he was totally 
aware of Aaron and what she needed to make their encounter 
sublime.  But he was damn sure that no one, or nothing, was 
manipulating him.
     He regained a measure of dominance, something he hadn't 
realized he'd lost until recently.  There was no hesitation, no 
fear of repercussion. He had undressed her slowly before his 
dresser mirror, exposing her to his hungry gaze.  He had touched 
and stroked her intimately, not allowing her the same tactile 
experience.  Only when he decided did he allow her to help him 
remove his clothes, and he immediately guided her to the huge 
waterbed. 
     Erin's hands smoothed over his chest, but he captured them, 
kissing the palms, and dragging her hands over her head.  Leaning 
down, he captured her lips, invading and devouring.  The embrace 
was fierce, violent and quick.  Pulling back, he looked down at 
his lover, seeing the desire reflected in her eyes.  Again they 
kissed, savagely, taking from each other, knowing that the storm 
of their passion was for this night only.
Releasing her hands, Mulder allowed his lips to wander lower, 
kissing the line of her jaw, the elegant slope of her neck.  He 
blew his hot breath across one aching nipple, causing the peak to 
harden invitingly, and he latched on, drawing deeply on the nub.  
Erin's hands cradled his head as he suckled, arching her back to 
allow him facility to her body.  He explored again, prompted by 
her murmured purrs of satisfaction, repeating the attention to 
the other firm, inviting breast. But the play continued, his lips 
caressing lower, crossing her firm stomach  and pausing at the 
seat of her femininity.  Mulder glanced up, startled by the 
fierce gaze of his partner.  She nodded to his unspoken question, 
letting her legs fall gently apart, exposing herself in ultimate 
submission.  Mulder shifted his position to allow himself an 
unrestricted view.  Her moist core was inviting, and he slowly 
lowered himself, keeping eye contact as he reached out gently and 
teased the lips of her cunt open, granting him access.  Licking 
her lips, Erin nodded again, and Mulder dipped his head nearer.  
She smelled of woman, stimulating and erotic, and he captured her 
clit gently, drawing on it as he had her nipples.  
     Erin grabbed the sheets with both hands, allowing her groan 
of pleasure release.  Mulder held her thighs fixed, barely 
allowing her hips to move as he explored her most intimate self.  
He suckled, and bit softly, his tongue darting and stroking, then 
repeated the pattern slowly, over and over.  The tension built, 
and she whimpered for release, but Mulder indulged himself, not 
allowing her the satisfaction of fulfillment. Surging beneath 
him, Erin  cried for assuagement.  Mulder raised his head, 
watching in awe as she writhed in pleasure, amazed that he was 
capable of cruelly denying her the release she craved.
     "You bastard."  She breathed, her mouth parted as she panted 
for breath.  "You bastard."
     Mulder smiled, reveling in the power.  This woman, this 
beautiful woman who he didn't know, was at his mercy.  He could 
leave her now, or complete their unspoken bargain by giving her 
the sexual gratification she desired.  Mulder leaned forward, 
kissing her stomach, licking the navel, feeling her muscles 
clench, and tasting the salt on her skin.  She watched him 
expectantly.
     Slowly, without breaking the eye contact with her, he 
reached to the bedside console, pulling forth protection.  Her 
eyes widened, and a small smile crossed her features.  Mulder 
placed the prophylactic in her hand, and knelt back, allowing her 
full access to his raging manhood.
     But Erin was of a mind to tease herself.  Slowly she opened 
the package, carelessly tossing the wrapper aside.  Sitting up, 
her legs still spread out, she grasped his member.  She waited 
for approval from Mulder, her mouth parted slightly, her tongue 
darting out suggestively.  At his nod, she leaned forward, and 
without preamble took him into the warm cavity of her mouth, 
sucking fiercely.  Throwing his head back, Mulder allowed her to 
pleasure him with her mouth, tongue and lips, his attention 
completely focused on his penis, and the incredible sensations 
surrounding him.  Reaching down, he cupped the back of her head, 
urging her on silently.  As he grew perilously close to release, 
he pushed her away.  The cool night air encircled him, and he 
felt her nimble fingers slowly and carefully encases him in 
protection.  With the task done, Mulder waited no longer, but 
leaned over capturing her lips once again, and thrusting into her 
moist and willing body. It was a frenzied joining, each taking 
what they wanted and what the other was willing to relinquish. 
Mulder retained most of the control, thrusting into her body with 
undeviating strokes, ignoring her attempts to guide and command.  
He felt Erin shudders violently beneath him, but he wasn't ready 
for such pleasure yet.  He demanded more from her, driving her 
back to the apex, plundering her body and commanding her release 
again.  Only as her third climax approached, and she begged for 
assuagement  did he allow himself the same succor. 



       "You have your assignments, we'll convene again Tuesday."  
The CSM leaned back in his chair, watching as his assembled 
agents prepared to depart.  "Winter, one moment."  He instructed.
     Winter casually  leaned against the polished surface of the 
table, crossing her arms over her body.
     CSM made her wait in silence until everyone had cleared the 
room.  Her gaze never faltered, watching as he drew indolently on 
his Morley, and expelled the smoke in her direction.
     "Your continued association with Agent Mulder is -
incongruous.  The mission is complete and the merchandise has 
been secured.  What is your justification for the continuance?"
     "The sex was good?"
     "This is no time for levity."
     Winter smiled, shrugging nonchalantly.  "Alright, the sex 
was great."
     "Winter, you're the best operative that is currently 
assigned to this division.  It would be an unfortunate situation, 
a severe conflict of interest, if you were to remain romantically 
involved with Agent Mulder."
     "It was a experiment, nothing more."  Winter pushed away 
from the table, standing straight and defiantly.  "I needed to 
know if I could attract Agent Mulder on my own merit.  No 
glamyre, no Celtic incantations.  Just me as a woman."  She 
dramatically pointed to herself, thumping her chest.  "Call it an 
affirmation of my femininity."
     "It is a dangerous game that you play, the risk of exposure 
is great."
     "Is there any other kind of game?"  She asked flippantly, 
laughing slightly.  "You of all people should know the infinite 
attraction that compels me towards Mulder."
     CSM took another drag from his cigarette.  "Mulder is a 
pawn, nothing more."
     Winter laughed louder, dropping into a nearby chair.  "You 
walk these halls with impunity.  Your position in the government 
is ubiquitous.  You are a most powerful individual, wielding that 
force in a controlled yet ruthless manner.  Your very presence 
excites me."  Winter leaned across the table, elegantly extending 
her hands towards the CSM.  "Yet you even have your demons to 
exorcise.  And his name is Fox Mulder."
     "How dare you attempt to analyze me?"
     Winter continued on recklessly, ignoring the rising anger in 
her boss.  "No matter what obstacle you place before him, no 
matter how deeply you harm him, Mulder always prevails.  And he 
remains with his basic nature intact, whole and vibrant.  You've 
become what you are today at the price of blackening your soul.  
You envy him."
     "What nonsense."
     Winter leaned back casually.  "Imagine, a man as confident 
and powerful as Mulder, demanding that I cater to his needs?"  
She licked her lips at the memory.  "No respite, no reprieve.  
Just my complete supplication. No one has ever dominated me as 
completely as Mulder, and I enjoyed it."  She smiled.  "I reveled 
in it."
     CSM violently stubbed his cigarette out in the ashtray.  
Suddenly he rose, and left the conference room, knowing that 
Winter followed attentively.  He made his way leisurely through 
the halls, pausing outside of AD Skinner's personal offices.  
Winter waited dutifully by his side, knowing that she had yet to 
be dismissed.  
     She chanced a glance at her wrist watch, then turned her 
suspicious gaze on the CSM.  "Why don't you just wave a red flag 
in front of a bull?  The reaction would be the same."
     This time when he withdrew a cigarette, he lit it then 
glanced at the rolled tobacco with a slight smile marring his 
severe features.  "Your resolve must be authenticated.  We do not 
have the luxury of allowing future assignments to be 
compromised."
     "We?"  Winter mocked, raising a shapely eyebrow in contempt.  
"Or you?"
     CSM refused to respond to her baiting.  
     The door to Skinner's office opened forcefully, and he 
stepped to the side.  He hadn't glanced out into the hallway, so 
remained unaware of the presence of Winter and CSM.  "That will 
be all agents."  Skinner barked.
     Scully entered the hallway first, barely pausing in distrust 
as she recognized the CSM.  As calmly as she could, she started 
to turn towards the elevator, remembering the last time she had 
evaded his ominous presence.  She had been helping the Lone 
Gunmen locate Mulder, and he'd sent his son  Jeffrey Spender to 
try and stop her.  He had failed.
     But Mulder was not so casual.  He stopped before the man, 
meeting his glare.  Then his attention turned towards the woman 
who stood patiently by the CSM's side, widening in surprised 
shock.  Abruptly Mulder reached forward with his left hand, 
grabbing Winter in a bruising grip on her right arm, and steered 
her down the hall away from the elevator and the astonished 
Scully.  
     "Agent Mulder!"  Skinner protested, stepping forward from 
his office, but the CSM intercepted him.
     "She won't hurt him."  He calmly remarked, directing Skinner 
back into his office.  
     Scully was torn, not knowing if Mulder expected her to 
follow.  The elevator bell chimed softly behind her, and she 
turned, stepping towards the empty car.  But she hesitated at the 
threshold of the car, instead turning to see her partner drag the 
voluptuous blonde around the hallway corridor.  Scully 
instinctively knew that this was the woman that they had been 
seeking.  With determination, she began to follow her partner.



     Mulder disregarded the curious stares that his rash action 
produced.   Being the center of attention was nothing new.  
Winter trotted agilely by his side, her heels clicking in a rapid 
staccato, echoing the urgency in Mulder's stride.  To their left 
an office door stood open, and he roughly guided her inside, 
literally flinging her towards the middle of the room.
     Winter whirled in time to witness Mulder fiercely slamming 
the door shut, the decorative glass side window shivering in its 
casing.  Mentally she cursed the poor choice in wearing the dress 
shoes and form fitting suit, knowing the skirt would hinder her 
movements if self-defense was necessary.  And at the moment she 
was having a tough time gauging  Mulder's  emotions.  His sudden 
display of anger was exciting her immeasurably.
     Mulder remained by the door, trying to gather his raging 
thoughts.  "Who are you?"  He managed to ground out between 
clenched teeth.
     Winter shrugged .  "The woman you chose to spend the night 
with."  She responded flippantly.
     "There was no choice involved.  He sent you to distract me 
from what?"
     Winter leaned casually against the desk, though her eyes 
held Mulder in an intense look, assessing his degree of 
irritation.  "The choice was yours.  No one held a gun to your 
head at the bar."
     Mulder's eyes grew flinty in anger.  "I was getting too 
close to what?"
     "I have no idea."  Winter responded truthfully.  "My 
assignment was to keep you from going to Beale AFB, before you 
uncovered their mission, and I successfully accomplished that 
task."
     "You expect me to believe that you don't know what they were 
hiding in Marysville?"
     Winter shrugged.  "I don't care whether you believe me or 
not.  And I have no way of making you believe anything that I 
say. I can say that your sister wasn't among those recovered at 
Beale."
    "What do you know about my sister?"
     "I wouldn't be much of an agent if I didn't learn something 
about my assignment."
     "And last night?"  Mulder persisted.
     "And last night was for me."  Came the frank reply.  "And if 
you're honest, for you."
     Mulder couldn't deny the last.  He had ruthlessly selected 
her amid any number of women at the bar.  
     "Listen, its not much consolation, but you should know that 
I wouldn't have done what I did if I didn't admire and respect 
you."  Winter almost laughed at the startled look crossing 
Mulder's face.  "You honestly don't know."  Winter murmured out 
loud.  
     "Know what?  That I'm a fool?"
     "No Agent Mulder.  Do you really think that these men would 
concern themselves with you if you weren't a considerable 
threat?"  Winter snorted a short laugh.  "At first I was 
astonished that they would request that I even contemplate taking 
on the assignment.  I'm not a baby-sitter.  Then I looked at your 
history, and how closely it was inter-woven with the plans of the 
consortium.  Then you became a challenge."
     "How so?"
     Winter shrugged.  "You had second guessed them on many 
occasions.  You had even anticipated their plans and forced them 
to act pre-maturely, risking discovery.  How does one combat such 
driving intelligence? I must admit that quite often their 
machinations are beyond my understanding.  Yet you consistently, 
and eerily, prognosticate their agenda.  Despite the fact that 
the consortium is continually tossing you misinformation. Then I 
remembered my Great-grandmother Guthrie.  She was a white witch."
     "You placed a glamyre spell on me."
     "Yes, I purposely left that book on the counter of the 
library prior to closing.  Of course I didn't know that you and 
the librarian were formerly- attached.  But you unerringly 
spotted the tome, and whether sub-consciously, or consciously, 
you leapt from your previous conclusion of astral projection to 
the correct analysis of Celtic magic."  Winter idly moved about 
the room, noting by Mulder's curiosity that she was no longer in 
danger.  "The draw back was Agent Scully.  With her working so 
closely with you it was only a matter of time before you 
discovered what the attraction of the spell was."  Winter stopped 
before Mulder, reaching up to gently caress the lapel of his suit 
jacket.  Though Mulder was tense, he didn't push her away, and 
she encouraged to more intimate actions.  She leaned her body 
against his, her lips hovering just below his. Mulder returned 
her stare, not closing his eyes as their lips met.  
     He tried to remain impassive to her embrace, mentally 
stealing himself against her gentle onslaught.  But his arms 
reflexively closed around her, his lips opening slightly to allow 
her greater access.  The kiss deepened, growing passionate.  
Mulder closed his eyes, savoring the embrace, demanding more from 
his partner.  
     And suddenly, Mulder pushed her away. 'His partner.'  He 
thought again, and he realized what the  real attraction of 
Winter's spell was.  And why he didn't, couldn't, fight the 
vision.
     "Glamyre , you will only see what you want to see."  He 
murmured.
     Winter smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes.  "Bingo!  Give 
the man a cigar.  Of course the attraction between you two is 
most discreet.  I was fortunate in the timing of your discovery.  
Any sooner, and I may have resorted to a more permanent means of 
detaining you."  Winter moved to the door, and carefully opened 
the portal.  Scully remained patiently outside, impassively 
returning Winters stare.  "Of course by that time, I don't think 
I could've acted so professionally."  She looked over her 
shoulder at Mulder.  "I'm glad it didn't come to that.  I like to 
think that I'm made of sterner stuff.  Good day Agent Mulder."  
Gracefully Winter moved down the hall, and headed out of sight.
     Scully couldn't help but admire the woman, and envy her 
self-confidence.  "Wow."  She expressed, turning her curious gaze 
towards her partner.  Casually she withdrew her handkerchief and 
offered it to Mulder.  "I can see the attraction."
    Mulder wasn't able to acknowledge her rejoinder, knowing that 
she was trying to ease the tension. Roughly he applied the white 
cloth to his lips, scrubbing the lipstick that remained.  Wadding 
the cloth into a ball, he shoved it deep into his trouser pocket. 
"C'mon Scully, let's go."


     Scully peered up from her computer, noting that Mulder was 
staring absently ahead, ignoring the work set before him.  They 
were to report to Skinner in fifteen minutes, and she knew from 
past experience that once again, he was woefully unprepared.  She 
sent her file to print a hard copy, then pushed away from her 
corner of the room.  
     "Mulder, do you need to talk?"  Scully offered, moving 
closer to his work area.  It had been exactly one week since 
their encounter with Winter, and Mulder had refused to offer any 
explanation to her.  Not that she had demanded one, but she had 
hoped that he would volunteer the information on his own.
     Absently Mulder unfolded the paper before him, slowly 
sliding the sheaf towards Scully.  It remained folded in a manner 
that prominently displayed a photo, and Scully peered closely.  
"It's Winter."
     "Erin Hale."  Mulder corrected.  "Found dead in the Regency 
Arms hotel, room 42.  Assailant unknown. Single gunshot wound to 
the head."
     Scully shook her head sadly, then paused, staring at her 
partner in suspicion.  "You don't think that you're somehow 
responsible?"
     Mulder shrugged absently.
     "Mulder, Ms. Hale knew the dangers involved with her chosen 
profession.  You and I face similar threats everyday.  Granted we 
are not government sanctioned contract killers, but we do 
encounter rather nefarious individuals." 
     "It's not that Scully."  Sighing, he leaned back in his 
chair, staring up at the ceiling, noting that two pencils 
remained embedded in the acoustical tile.  "I'm not so 
narcissistic to believe that whomever sent her would consider her 
no longer viable as an employee. To survive as long as she has, 
for it to end in this fashion is, odd, to say the least."
     "Mistakes do happened."  Scully offered.  "Perhaps she was 
caught unawares."
     Mulder shook his head in the negative.  "People in her line 
of work don't make mistakes."  He unfolded a small piece of blue 
personal stationary, passing it to Scully for her perusal. 
     "Don't believe everything you read. W."  She read aloud, 
tossing a skeptical look towards Mulder.  "It's type written, 
courier font, number 12.  Anyone could've left it here." 
     "Yep."  Came the short reply.
     Scully leaned against his desk.  "She got to you, didn't 
she?"  Boldly she asked, knowing that she was stepping over that 
invisible barrier they had erected early in their career 
together. "This Winter, or Erin, or whatever her real name is, 
she got to you."  It was more a statement than a question. 
     Mulder looked at Scully, his face impassive.  Just looked at 
her.  As a man who looks at a beautiful woman.  Scully grew 
uncomfortable under his stare, and she straightened.
     "I had no right to ask that."  She apologized, a slight 
blush sweeping over her cheeks.
     "Yes, if anyone has the right, its you Scully."  Mulder 
responded.  Reaching forward, he grasped one of her hands, 
cradling it in his larger one.  Scully stared at her hand trapped 
in his, feeling the warmth and strength.  
     "I-"  Mulder paused, not knowing how to begin, and cleared 
his throat.  "I know now why I wasn't unreceptive to Winters 
nocturnal visits.  She was playing on my fantasies Scully.  She 
brought to life what I most desired."
     Scully grew even more uncomfortable.  Gently she tugged at 
her hand, trying to draw away from her partner. 
     "Once before, I told you that I loved you.  I don't know if 
you believed me or not."  Mulder swallowed, trying to find the 
right words.  "It was you Scully.  It was you who I imagined in 
my bed, by my side. And it frightens me that once again they 
resorted to using you as a means of restraining me."  Mulder 
stood, still holding her hand, and leaned over the desk.  Their 
faces were mere inches apart, each staring deeply into each 
others eyes, complete trust the answer in each of their souls.  
"I would die for you."  He announced quietly.  "No hesitation, no 
regrets.  You mean everything to me." 
     Scully's eyes filled with tears, but she refused to let them 
fall.  "Oh Mulder."  She sighed, anguish in her tone.  "What 
happens now?"
     Mulder leaned his forehead against hers, closing his eyes.  
"I don't know Scully.  I honestly don't know."  

The end

So, what do you think?  My apologies to any readers from the 
Marysville, Linda area in California for rearranging the towns a 
bit.  I needed more drive time.  The ghost is an actual 
phenomenon witnessed by several crew-man late at night on the 
flight-line, and I had to place him in the story, even though 
he's rather unnecessary.  
     
All comments are welcome, good or not so good.  Again please be 
gentle.  This is my first story submitted to Gossamer.  Please 
contact me at UbrScullie@aol.com