Fidelity 5/8
Disclaimer in part 1
Missing parts at http://alanna.net/sue

*****

Northwest Parking Lot
Circus Circus Casino, Las Vegas, Nevada

For over 200 miles Scully had sat debating the wisdom of telling
Mulder what Gibson had done. If it were anyone else her biggest
fear would have been that they wouldn't believe her. In fact, if it
were anyone else she would never even tell them. But Mulder -
Mulder would want to know. It was the thought of what Mulder would
do with the knowledge that kept her silent. Once he found out,
everything would change. She told herself she was only delaying the
inevitable, giving herself a few last moments of peace.

The further north they traveled, the bigger the towns they passed
through became. By the time they crossed Hoover Dam, headed for Las
Vegas, the noise in her head brought tears to her eyes. It was all
she could do to try and blot out the noise.

Mulder cast another uneasy glance at Scully. She had become
progressively paler since Hoover Dam. She sat now, with her eyes
closed and her head tilted back on the seat, clenching and
unclenching her hands restlessly. They had been circling the
parking lot for nearly fifteen minutes now, awaiting the arrival of
Vernon Geake.

"A real computer Geake." Frohike had deadpanned last night on the
phone.

Ahead of them, Mulder saw a old pickup truck pull into the lot.
Scully opened her eyes, blinking against the light for a moment
before focusing on the truck.

"That's him," she said.

Mulder nodded his agreement. Frohike had said a white Ford truck,
Nevada plates. Mulder pulled into an open spot, turning the car off
and leaving the keys in the ignition. They both stepped out as the
truck came around the end of the row of cars a rolled to a stop in
front of them.

The driver inside smiled widely, gesturing for them to climb
inside. Mulder opened the door, his hand reaching out to help
Scully as she stumbled getting in.

"I got it, thanks," she said, moving over on the bench seat to make
room for him.

Mulder climbed in and Vernon started the truck moving, reaching
over to shift gears and bumping against Scully's knee in the
process. Scully slid closer to Mulder as Vernon's thoughts took a
faintly lecherous turn. Mulder was checking the side view mirror,
watching for cars behind them.

"I'm just pleased to finally be meeting you," Vernon said, and to
his credit he really meant it. Scully gave him a polite nod and
Vernon grinned back revealing a gap-toothed smile.

"I've been hearing about you for years from the Gunmen, I
contribute to the newsletter...." Vernon trailed off, waiting to
see if Mulder had heard of him.

click

"You wrote about the Nevada Testing Sites last May." Mulder turned
to watch Vernon's smile widen.

"That was me! Yep. I keep an eye on Groom Lake for them, I can't
wait to show you my setup. I tell you what, some nights you can see
the lights out to the west, maybe they'll put on a show while
you're out there."

Vernon turned the car down Sahara Boulevard and headed towards the
freeway, relishing his new role as benefactor to the great Fox
Mulder.

*****

U.S. Highway 93
Outside Ash Springs, Nevada

Mulder sat watching the arid landscape of Nevada speed past. He was
half-asleep, lulled by the sway of the truck into a stupor. For the
first hour Vernon had prattled on about various government
conspiracies, but Mulder had been too tired to really follow the
conversation and finally Vernon had lapsed into silence.

Beside him Scully was staring out the front window, her expression
blank. Mulder was willing to bet she was just as tired, but too
tense to allow herself to sleep until she was sure they really were
safe. With three adults in the cab of the truck, there wasn't much
room and Scully seemed to prefer sitting closer to him than to
Vernon. The press of her thigh against his had niggled at the back
of his mind the entire trip and he had spent more time than he
would care to admit to lost in the recollections of all the times
he had deliberately touched her simply for the guilty pleasure of
doing so.

Mulder closed his eyes, they felt dry and scratchy. He wanted
nothing more than to be able to brush his teeth and fall asleep for
days. "Not much further, now," Vernon spoke up. "We turn off the
highway here in about a mile.  If you have time, while you're here,
I could drive you out past Rachel, right on the 'Extraterrestrial
Highway'. You realize, of course, we've been driving alongside the
infamous Area 51 for the past hour?"

"We were here last year," Mulder said, glancing down at Scully.

~Don't you ever want to just stop the car, get out and lead a
normal life?~  Right now, I do, Scully. God, what's a normal life
anymore anyway? I'd settle for a nice unexplained death and not
having to worry about the larger picture.

"Really? What for?" Vernon asked.

"We thought we had a source in Area 51," Scully spoke up softly.
"But it turned out to be a wasted trip."

Vernon grunted in reply, slowing the truck to turn left onto a dirt
road. "A wasted trip. There are plenty of those to be found out
here. But when you really start looking close, there's more than
meets the eye in the desert. It looks barren until you get to know
it. There's  ghost towns all over out here, places that went bust
when the bottom dropped out of the silver market back in the early
1900's. About ten years ago I took  sabbatical from my job as an
anthropology professor to do research on a few of them."

The truck began to climb the steep foothills, the road growing more
rutted causing Vernon's voice to bounce as they rattled along. "My
interest was piqued when I was denied access to what the map lists
as a wildlife protection area. I know there's towns in there, lost
to history, but our government won't let me in to explore them.
That started me thinking, got me interested in the area. I met
Frohike and Langly at a protest about seven years ago, back when
the government was still acknowledging that they tested nuclear
weapons out here."

"You think they're still doing the testing?" Mulder asked.

"You think they're not?" Vernon countered.

Scully arched her brow. "Nuclear testing is no longer needed. We
have a full understanding of the bomb's capabilities and an even
greater understanding of the hazards of continuing such testing."

"Right." Vernon stretched the word out, shaking his head and
marveling that someone who had seen as much as Agent Scully no
doubt had could still be trusting.

Scully almost blurted out that she wasn't trusting, just
questioning the rationality of continued testing in the face of so
much collected data, but stopped herself. Beside her Mulder was
musing along the same lines as Vernon. Scully smiled to herself.

Is there a story you won't believe, Mulder?

The truck hit a large bump, throwing Scully against Mulder, her
breast brushing against his arm. Mulder swallowed reflexively,
wondering why he never took advantage of the quieter times in their
lives to explore his feelings, why he always waited until the
bullets were flying, so to speak, before realizing that Scully was
not just his partner, but a woman. He turned his head to look at
her and was surprised to see that she was wearing her Mona Lisa
smile as she gripped the seat and braced her legs against the floor
in an attempt to keep from becoming a human pinball.

Vernon noticed her discomfort and tried to reassure her. "Once we
get to the top of the bluff it's not so bad. The road got washed
out here during the winter." He was nearly shouting to make himself
heard over the rattle of the truck.

True to his word, the road did smooth out a little after they
crested the bluff. The road turned sharply a few times as they
traveled down a ravine and Scully realized that the road was, in
fact, a dried creek bed. When they picked up the actual road again
it was with a bounce that sent her sliding into Mulder, her elbow
knocking his ribs.

Oh Scully. You gotta stop doing that. I must be really tired if
this is turning me on. One more bounce and I'll be over the line.
Mulder held onto the dash in an effort to keep from careening into
Scully as Vernon made a quick left, the truck dipping to descend
into a small canyon.

One toke over the line, sweet Jesus. One toke over the line...
Mulder sang to himself. Scully's arms flew up, bracing herself
against the truck's roof. With every bump the truck hit her breasts
bobbed. He looked away.

...sittin' downtown in a railway station. One toke over the line.

They came around another corner and saw a small house with a large
satellite dish in front of it. "There I am," Vernon nodded towards
the house.

"Great," Scully said and actually smiled, looking sidewise at
Mulder.

"Would it offend you if I kissed the ground when we stop?" Mulder
asked.

Vernon laughed. "This ride was nothing. You want some
bone-rattling, death-defying four-wheeling, I'll take you up to
some of the ghost towns hereabouts."

"Some other time," Mulder said.

The truck stopped and all of them climbed out, Mulder and Scully
flexing their legs and arms after so many hours spent traveling.

"C'mon inside. I've got cold drinks and indoor plumbing." Vernon
opened his front door and beckoned to them.

"I always knew I could be had cheaply." Mulder remarked, rolling
his head to loosen his neck muscles. To his surprise Scully gave
him a warm smile, touching his arm briefly as she passed him.

"I always knew you could too, Mulder."

*****

"Hey, Mulder! They haven't arrested you yet?" Frohike's voice
crackled over the long distance lines and Mulder could picture him
gesturing to Byers and Langly that he'd finally called back.

"Don't sound so disappointed. What did you find? Make it good."

"We're not sure yet. We did some checking on Agent Riley, he comes
up clean. He's been with the Bureau for twelve years, spotless
record. I couldn't find anything on any Agents Cummings or Holland,
at least not any Cummings or Hollands matching your description of
them."

"What about that name, Baxter?"

"What about it? Dead end. There are 43 Agent Baxters in the FBI but
I don't see a connection with any of them. Could Baxter be a place?
There are five towns in the U.S. named Baxter."

Mulder looked at Scully who was sitting by him, her brows knit
together in thought. She sensed his gaze and looked up at him.

"Scully, Baxter - could it be a place and not a person?"

Scully thought about it, trying to remember the context in which it
had been used before shaking her head. "The impression I got was
that Baxter was going to be unhappy about losing Gibson. I don't
think it could be a place."

"No go on the place, Frohike. Sounds like a person."

In the background he heard Langly mumbling something before the
phone was passed to him.

"Hey Mulder, what if Baxter isn't a name, but an acronym?"

"For what?" Mulder asked and Scully leaned forward.

"There's a company in West Virginia that's been doing genetic
research for the past twenty years, the Barron Centers for
Transgenetic Research - B.C.T.R. Baxter. They've had some success
with gene splicing and it's rumored they've made giant strides in
cloning." As Langly spoke Mulder could hear the clatter of his
computer keyboard.

"Baxter." Scully spoke the word softly. "I've heard of them."

Mulder nodded to her and was about to speak when Langly came back
on the line.

"Mulder? You're gonna love this. There was some kind of scandal in
the late 80's during which time most of Baxter's projects were
disbanded but, in March 1988 they were still running a fertility
clinic. Guess who was conceived at Baxter?"

"Gibson Praise."

"Give the man a Kewpie doll."

"Oh my god," Scully spoke softly.

"You've been a huge help, boys. Thanks."

"Keep in touch, man." With that, Langly hung up.

"Why now, Mulder? Why go looking for Gibson now? Surely they've
known where he was all these years?"

Mulder shook his head. "I don't know. Maybe they didn't realize
they needed Gibson until now."

Scully sighed. "They said something about a 'wellspring'. The
'wellspring' is gone and now they need Gibson."

"For what purpose? What was the 'wellspring'?"

"We need to go there," Mulder spoke up and Scully gave him a weary
nod. "We need to find out why they're looking for Gibson."

I should tell him.

"Anyone hungry?" Vernon poked his head into his "command center",
the room jammed with computers, maps and photographs of abandoned
buildings in which they sat.

Starved, actually, Mulder thought, realizing that he hadn't eaten
more than a packet of airline peanuts and a couple of crackers in
the past 24 hours.

"Let's eat, get some rest and tomorrow we can figure out how to get
to West Virginia." Scully said. "We're not going to do much good
setting out now exhausted and famished."

"Quite right," Vernon grinned at them, looking forward to the
prospect of eating with company. "Quite right."

*****

After lunch Scully had announced she wanted to take a short walk
and stretch her legs. Mulder had opted for staying behind, certain
he was about to fall asleep at any moment. But once he had laid
down on the cot Vernon provided he found himself unable to sleep.
He tossed and turned, his mind grappling with Gibson, Baxter, and
the strange turn of events that had led them here.

Scully had a point. If they'd known where Gibson was all these
years, why pick now to try and reclaim him? For what purpose? And
what was the 'wellspring'? Was it somehow connected to Gibson's
abilities? Was it the source of Gibson's alien DNA? If that was
true perhaps the 'wellspring' was Cassandra or one of the other
abductees burned alive by the rebels over the past year.

Gibson had told Scully he could help them, give them proof. What
kind of proof had he been offering them? More blood samples? A
tissue biopsy? Scully didn't appear to have any new proof to offer,
perhaps she and Gibson had split up before he'd had a chance to
give it to her. If she hadn't overhead the conversation about
Baxter they'd be at a complete dead end.

Come to think of it - when *did* she hear the conversation about
Baxter? They had only been separated a few minutes at the Flagstaff
airport and he'd had a clear view of both Riley and Diana, neither
one had spoken. No mention of Baxter had been made at the Phoenix
airport and he was certain Holland and Cummings hadn't casually
shot the breeze while hustling Scully out of the terminal.

So when had she overheard it?

~It's just... really noisy here.~

Mulder sat up. There was a pattern to Scully's headaches. In a big
city, like Las Vegas or Phoenix, she was nearly incapcitated. But
get her away from the city and presto! Headache gone. Mulder
reached for his shoes, putting them on and heading for the front
door.

It hadn't been noisy in the Flagstaff airport nor had it been noisy
in the car when they were in Phoenix yet she had been visibly
effected. Maybe it was noise he couldn't hear. Noise that someone
like Gibson could. The noise of other people's thoughts.

~I hear you, Mulder.~

Last night. She heard him, she had tried to tell him but he hadn't
been listening. Why hadn't she said anything since? Maybe he was
wrong.

~One toke over the line....~ Oh god, let me be wrong.

Mulder came out onto the porch and saw Scully about 50 yards away,
her back turned to him. His long legs carried him quickly over the
distance between them, stopping when he was only a few feet away.

You hear me, don't you?

He didn't say the words aloud, but her shoulders still dropped in a
sigh before she quietly answered.

"Yes."

*****

End 5/8

Fidelity 6/8
Disclaimer in part 1
Missing parts at http://alanna.net/sue

*****

Even though Mulder had been certain what Scully's answer would be,
he was still stunned.

How did it happen? Gibson? How had he done it? Could it be
replicated? How long had she been able to read minds? Amid all his
questions of how and why, Mulder couldn't shake his underlying
feeling of glee. A telepathic partner, while certainly not
admissible in court, was bound to come in handy. There was also the
smallest sense of jealousy. Why Scully for crying out loud? Why
pick the skeptic over the believer?

Mulder stepped closer, so that he was standing beside her. Scully
had her arms folded across her chest as she looked off into the
distance.

Mulder cleared his throat. "Are you going to make me ask? Hell,
Scully, you know what I'm thinking. Pick a question and answer it."

She said nothing for a moment, closing her eyes as the breeze
picked up, setting her hair in motion around her face. When she
spoke her voice was quiet, Mulder had to lean closer to hear her.
"I don't know how he did it. He touched me, right over the implant,
and I blacked out. When I came to I could hear him.  Him and
everyone else at the motel." Scully gave a small sigh, rocking back
on her heels. "I didn't believe it. I still don't, in a way."

She finally looked up at him and he could see the fatigue in her
pinched expression. "From what Gibson told me, they had theorized
that the chip could be used in such a way, they just had never
tested it. He wasn't entirely sure it would work." Scully looked
down again as she finished speaking.

"Who was more surprised when it did?"

Scully almost smiled. "I would have to say I was."

"So what was his plan after he did this? Were you two going to hit
the road as some kind of psychic sideshow?"

"No. I was only hiding Gibson until his mother could get there. I
think this was his way of repaying me, us, for helping him."

Mulder was silent as he considered what she had told him. If the
chip could be activated, and BCTR knew this, would they put two and
two together and realize that Gibson may have given Scully the
ability? Was that why Holland and Cummings had tried to take her?
He remembered what she had said the night before, about not being
able to hear Holland. At the time he had thought she was feverish,
but now it seemed likely that they knew.  Why else would they have
been so insistent on taking her from the airport?

"They only wanted to question me about Gibson.  I don't think they
knew what Gibson had done to me until I got off the plane. 
Actually, I think only Holland knew.  It was so strange, Mulder, I
could hear everyone else, but not him.  It was like his mind was
turned off, when I tried to hear him, I came up blank." Scully dug
at a rock with the toe of her shoe.

Mind reading.  Mulder nearly laughed aloud, taken aback all over
again that she could actually *hear* him.  That was how she had
known when she got off the plane that Holland and Cummings weren't
who they claimed to be. Had Riley been in on it, too? Diana?

"They all were," Scully's voice was almost apologetic.

Diana too. ~I think you know what I think that woman is....~ Now
would be a good time for the "I told you so's".

Scully shook her head and looked up to meet his eyes. "I'm sorry,
Mulder."

Mulder shrugged and looked away.  ~You've got to trust me, Fox.~ 
It had been so refreshing not to be paranoid, to be able to accept
someone at face value. Mulder grimaced inwardly as he realized just
how close Diana had come to damaging he and Scully's partnership
beyond repair. He needed to think - by himself.

"Forget it." He spoke the words softly and started to turn back to
the house. "Hey, Scully, what's your range?"

"My range?" she questioned even as his intent became clear.

"Yeah, how far away do I have to be before you can't hear me?"

His need for privacy, for licking his wounds away from her, was
apparent. He wouldn't even look at her as he waited for her answer.

"It depends. Most people I can only hear if they're close to me,
within 50 feet. You, I can hear from further away. I heard you from
about half a mile away at the Grand Canyon."

Mulder nodded curtly. "If you need me, I'll be at least a half mile
away for a little while." He barked a laugh and shrugged. "Well,
you understand." Mulder turned and jogged off. Scully waited,
concentrating on her own thoughts, as his grew more distant. Once
she couldn't hear him anymore she turned and started for the house.

*****

When Mulder returned to Vernon's house it was dark outside. Vernon
was in his computer room, hunched over the keyboard. He looked up
as Mulder passed by, but only offered him a nod. Mulder moved
further back into the house, entering the makeshift room Vernon had
provided for them.

Scully was curled up on one of the room's cots, her back to him.
Anger surged through him anew. On his walk he had done some
thinking, away from her prying mind. Was it possible that Gibson
was in on it too? What if Diana had been telling the truth? Perhaps
they had given Scully the ability simply to keep him in line? And
to enable her to spy on him more effectively.

Mulder chewed on his lower lip for a minute as he considered. It
wouldn't matter where he went, Scully and the Consortium would find
him. There was really only one way to be free of Them.

The safety on his gun made a soft 'snick' as it was slid off.
Scully rolled over but didn't awaken. Mulder was proud of the fact
that his hands were steady as he walked closer to Scully. Close
enough that the gun was mere millimeters from the soft rise and
fall of her chest.

A moment's hesitation.

Mulder closed his eyes as his finger tightened on the trigger,
missing the flashes of light from the three rapid-fire shots.

*****

Scully sat up, sweating and shaking, kicking her legs loose of the
scratchy wool blanket tangled around them. Across the room Mulder
was asleep, snoring softly.

Scully took a few deep breaths, trying to calm herself. Outside the
wind was howling and she could feel the chill creeping in through
the window's casements. She felt lost and agitated. Panic rose like
bile to sting her throat. It wasn't just the dream, it was the
sensation of feeling something waiting out in the darkness. She
could feel it sliding along the edges of her consciousness and she
wondered if it was Holland that she felt, stealthily approaching,
moving in for the kill. Was going to BCTR a good idea or was it
suicide?

Unconsciously her hand moved to touch the back of her neck. How
many secrets did the chip hold?  Pendrell had said it was able to
store experiences, neural memories. Did it transmit and receive
them as well? Did they already know her every move, her every
emotion? But how could such a tiny chip pick up the inner thoughts
of people? It made no sense.

Was Gibson one of many created by BCTR or had he been a fluke?
Perhaps they had not realized his potential until years later. Was
he safe now? Scully closed her eyes and said a silent prayer that
Gibson and his mother were safe and that they remained so.

Chilled, she laid back down on her side, pulling the blanket up to
her ears and shifting carefully on the cot to bring her knees up to
her chest. Dread, heavy and dull, sank deeper into her with the
chill from the wind outside. What was she going to do now? She was
a fugitive, wanted for a crime she hadn't actually committed but
with no means to prove otherwise.

"Scully?"

She raised her head to see Mulder still asleep and she realized
that he was talking to her in his dream. Closing her eyes she saw
herself, a flickering image like a scratchy home movie. She was
sitting in a car, her head turned to watch the fast-moving
landscape outside the window. She made no reply to Mulder in the
dream but he seemed content with her silence. Was this a memory or
just a blurring of countless car trips in his subconscious?

Then she saw herself turn her face to him and smile. "We can stop
at the next town," she said. Mulder made no reply, happy in her
company. The road dipped like a roller coaster before them, she had
the sensation of rushing down a hill fast. In his dream they both
laughed, caught up the moment.

On her cot, Scully smiled as well. She pulled the blanket up higher
and relaxed, letting the quiet affection of Mulder's reverie cover
her like a second blanket, keeping her warm, lulling her into a
dreamless sleep.

*****

Potawatomi Lodge
Denison, Kansas

Mulder turned off the t.v. in disgust. There was nothing on. No
sports, no looming meteorological disaster on the Weather Channel
and he'd quickly flipped past the advertisement on the pay-per-view
for "Vicksburg Vixens". Scully had told him earlier that day on a
lone stretch of prairie that she was learning to keep other
people's thoughts as a kind of background noise. Regardless, there
was no way in hell he was watching any kind of porn with her closer
than half a mile. Hell, a mile - just to be on the safe side.

Through the thin walls he could hear Scully's t.v., blaring the
screeching brakes and sirens of a chase scene. Mulder picked his
watch up off the nightstand. 12:30 a.m.

After 18 hours of non-stop traveling he thought she'd be asleep by
now. Scully had driven the last shift, and they had mutually agreed
that it would be wiser to get a motel for the night than to press
on. Neither of them were in any condition to keep driving. Once
they had checked in, they had convened in Scully's room and called
the Gunmen. Byers had been apologetic as he explained that they
were working on hacking into BCTR's system but they had nothing
yet.

Next door Scully's t.v. changed channels and Mulder wondered if she
was listening to the t.v. in an attempt to block out the other
noises around her. There was only one other car parked two doors
down from him at the motel and Denison was a small town.

They had kept to backroads since leaving Nevada, partially out of
deference to Scully, which was why she had told him that she was
learning to block out other people's thoughts. It would certainly
save them time to take I-70 rather than two-lane highways. Neither
one of them had dared to drive over the speed limit, afraid of
getting pulled over. When Mulder had wondered if they couldn't use
Scully as a kind of radar detector she silently shook her head.

"I think their range might be better than mine," she had finally
spoken with a half-smile.

Mulder shifted restlessly on the bed. He smiled as he realized that
he should probably warn Frohike ahead of time that Scully could
read his mind. Or would it be more fun to watch Scully try to
remain composed? Then again, maybe Byers was really the scary
Gunman? He'd be sure to ask Scully what really went on in their
heads.

Would she even tell him? She had been extraordinarily vague about
what she heard from other people. He knew she felt it was an unfair
advantage and he marveled at her sense of fair play. Gibson
couldn't have picked a more conscientious clairvoyant if he'd
tried.   Sometimes, as they had driven along, he would even forget
that she could hear him on more than one level.  

They had spent the long hours going over the facts they did have,
puzzling out the meaning of the "wellspring" and BCTR's connection
to the testing they had seen done before.  In the back of his mind
he had silently dreaded the subject of Diana and what Scully knew
of her.  But he was ready to hear it now, needed to hear it, in
fact.

The phone rang, startling him. His hand flailed to the side,
catching the phone before the second ring. The volume on Scully's
t.v. went lower as he picked up the phone.

"Mulder? I've got some bad news for you," Frohike said.

"Define 'bad'," Mulder got up off the bed and unlocked the
connecting door. Come on over, Scully.

"We found Gibson Praise. We were able to get in BCTR's computer
system about half an hour ago. They found him, Mulder. Judging by
the security camera footage we were able to download they brought
Gibson to the facility earlier this evening."

Scully's worried eyes sought out his own as she sat down on the
bed.

"We need to move fast on this," Mulder said and Scully nodded her
agreement. There was no way of knowing what BCTR's plan for Gibson
were. "Can you guys meet us there? If we leave now we can be there
in about 12 hours."  

"We'll be there," Frohike assured him. 

*****

The rain was beating a staccato rhythm against the roof of the car.
The windshield wipers rhythmic noise had long since become a
metronome for her thoughts.

Thwap.

They've got Gibson. God, please, don't let them hurt him.

Thwap.

Wellspring. What is the wellspring? Why do they need him so badly? 
Is Gibson the wellspring?

Thwap.

They wouldn't operate on him a second time, would they?  Please let
us get there in time.

The rain ended abruptly but it took Scully a few moments to
register that the wipers were no longer necessary. Beside her
Mulder stirred, blinking a few times and sitting up straighter.
"Why don't you pull over at the next stop, let me drive for awhile.
You need some sleep."

"Fine," she said, knowing she wouldn't be able to sleep. Scully
couldn't shake the feeling of dread that had settled on her since
Nevada. The closer they came to West Virginia and BCTR, the tighter
the knot in her stomach became.

As she continued driving eastward she could see the faint glow of
approaching daylight on the horizon. Anxiety bubbled up, closing
off her throat for a moment. It was irrational, but she was certain
that Holland was close. He knew where they were going and was
allowing them to reach West Virginia.

Would they find Gibson at BCTR? What else would they find? Or
rather, what would find them?

*****

US 33 
Barbour County, West Virginia

"Heads up, there they are." Frohike nudged Langly as he got out of
their van. Mulder made a U-turn, pulling onto the shoulder of the
road behind them. Frohike's eyes widened slightly at the sight of
them as they wearily exited the car.

Mulder, my man, you look like shit. And Scully doesn't look much
better.

The strain of the past few days showed in their slower gait, their
rumpled appearance and the dark circles beneath Scully's eyes.
Frohike glanced down at his watch - 4:23 p.m. Three more hours
until it grew dark, maybe they could convince them to hole up at
the motel room he and Langly had rented this morning.

Apparently Langly was thinking along the same lines as he opened
the side door on the van. "We've got a room up the road, close to
BCTR. Byers is back at the office, working on getting some
clearance codes to the research wing. We did bring some employee
ID's for you."

"Thanks." Mulder gave them a tired nod, his eyes tracking past
Langly to watch with worry as Scully braced her hand against the
van, pausing with her head bowed before getting in.

Langly took a step forward, touching her arm lightly. "Agent
Scully?"

"I'm..." she started and then shook her head. Langly took the hint
and stepped back.

"Headache," Mulder explained as Scully pulled herself up into the
van. Frohike and Langly turned to stare at him. "She's got a
headache." Mulder brushed past them and climbed into the van,
pulling the door shut behind him.

"Not tonight, she's got a headache?" Langly mused.

"Langly, you couldn't get lucky with a bottle of aspirin, let alone
the fair Agent Scully."

"And you could?" Langly snickered.

"She loves me. She just doesn't realize it yet." Frohike mumbled as
he reached to open the passenger side door. He glanced into the
back of the van as he climbed in. Scully was sitting with her head
tipped back on the seat, her eyes shut tightly.

Something's wrong here. Something's really wrong. This isn't road
fatigue or a headache.

A chill ran up Frohike's spine as he watched Langly walk around the
front of the van to get in, bringing to his mind an adage he'd
learned in childhood.

Feels like someone just walked over my grave....

*****

Barron Centers for Transgenetic Research

"They built a new facility in 1995 but the old research facility is
still there," Langly explained as they turned off the highway,
passing the sign that read "B.C.T.R. - Hope For The Future". 
Evenly spaced streetlights illuminated a beautifully landscaped
park with a man-made lake.

"Security is, needless to say, still very tight on the old
building. We have ID's for you but they won't work on the outside
doors. We got you security clearance inside but we couldn't hack
the outside code." Frohike added.

The parking lot was nearly empty, only a few cars were parked close
to the glass and steel new building. Langly drove through the
parking lot, switching onto a smaller road that took them to a
large warehouse. A tall red brick building was situated behind it.

"This is it, kids." Frohike turned to look at them, they didn't
look much better than they had earlier that afternoon. A shower, a
change of clothes, a few hours of sleep - none of these had erased
the fatigue etched into them both. Especially Scully.

Maybe she sensed his gaze, for she turned and gave Frohike a small
smile. "I'm okay, really. I'm just worried about Gibson."

"I hope you're up to a climb," Frohike smiled back. "Byers said he
could get the windows on the third floor of the old facility
disarmed. We'll be waiting right here for you."

Mulder and Scully exchanged a look before Mulder glanced back over
at Frohike. "Let's do it," he said.

*****

The smell of oil and cresote hung heavy in the air of the
warehouse. Mulder fought a wave of nausea, the odor bringing back
unpleasant memories for him of the time spent in Tunguska. He could
almost feel the rough wood beneath his skin. The fear and
frustration as he fought against the mesh holding him down. The
panic as he listened to the terrified cries of the men around him.
His skin crawled just remembering the sickening sensation of the
black fluid invading him.

Scully's fingers brushed over his wrist and he glanced down to see
her watching him closely.

Mulder shook his head. Let's just find Gibson, okay?

Scully gave an affirmative nod, closing her eyes for a moment as
she concentrated.

Gibson?

Nothing. She could hear Mulder. Frohike and Langly out in the van.
A couple of distant voices from the building. There didn't appear
to be anyone in the warehouse.

"We're okay in here. There's no one close."

They turned on their flashlights, shining them along the sides of
the building. No crates were helpfully stacked against the walls.

"There," Scully pointed with her flashlight to a foreman's office
in the corner. A steel ladder atop the office led up to the girders
supporting the building's ceiling. A cat walk extended the length
of the warehouse.

A forklift was parked next to the office, they climbed onto the cab
of it and stepped over to the roof and started going up the ladder
towards the cat walk.

Looks like there's an air vent at the far end. I think we can get
outside that way. I gotta tell you, Scully, telepathy sure comes in
handy on a break-in.

Scully nudged him with her elbow to get him started down the cat
walk.

Just wish it went both ways. For all I know you're planning to push
me off.

"And you said you couldn't hear me," Scully whispered.

You should know, I actually have x-ray vision. We're like the
Wonder Twins, huh?

When they reached the vent panel and Mulder gave it an experimental
tug. Nothing happened.

"Well, come on, Superman. Can't you bend steel with your bare
hands?"

Damn.  "Only on Tuesdays. Today's, what? Friday? On Friday's I'm as
mortal as the next guy."

"So use the door," Scully swung her flashlight to show him the
service door.

"Smartass. When we find Gibson I'm going to ask him what you're
really thinking. Then the tables will be turned."

Stepping out onto the roof, they picked their way carefully to
where the corner of the warehouse met up with the old research
facility. As promised, there was an open window.

*****

They had started on the sixth floor of the building, slowly working
their way down but they had encountered only vacant dusty rooms and
a few storage boxes. On the fourth floor Scully stopped abruptly,
touching Mulder's arm to still him.  

"Wait."  Scully closed her eyes to concentrate.

... can you hear me? Agent Scully?

Gibson?

You have to leave. They aren't going to hurt me. They don't dare.
They know you're here, he can hear you.

Who can? Gibson, tell me where you are.

If you come in here, they'll know. They can track you.

With the chip?

Yes.

Gibson, tell me where you are....

"We have to split up," Scully said, looking up at Mulder. "Gibson's
on the second floor, room 226. The code to his door is 51076."

"Where are you going?"

"Out a different way. I'll see you back at the van. Hurry."

Once upon a time, Scully recited to herself in an attempt to keep
her thoughts distracted and buy Mulder some time. There was a
little girl who lived in the woods with her father...

*****

Mulder raced down the stairs, opening the second floor door a tiny
crack. No one out there. He stepped into the hall, the room
opposite him was 212. Turning left the next number was 214, on the
opposite side of the hall it was 215. Mulder started jogging,
counting off the doors as he moved further down the hall. 220, 222,
224, 226.

It was a gray metal door, no window, but there was a keypad to the
side.

5-1-0-7-6.

A shrill beep that made him look both ways before he turned the
handle on the door.

And there he was, the answer to all that was in the X-Files,
sitting primly on his bed, his childish face at odds with his
confident mien.

"Hello," Gibson said.

*****

The basement. Is it instinct now that I just naturally head for the
basement?

Scully took a deep breath and listened carefully, she could hear
Mulder and Gibson carefully picking their way out of the building.
But there was something else - that same strange unsettling feeling
of being followed.

By who? Holland, the man at the airport? Was he here, waiting for
her somewhere in the shadows? Scully turned, heading back through
the building's power plant towards the stairs.

The hum of the generators matched the soundless buzzing now
radiating along Scully's skin. Holland was close, she was sure of
it. She couldn't hear Gibson and Mulder any longer, couldn't hear
anyone. Alone in her head for the first time in days she felt
eerily empty. Her own thoughts seemed to echo loudly in her ears.

There was a scraping noise behind her and she whirled, wishing she
had more than a fake ID and a flashlight to confront someone with.

There was no one there.

She felt a twinge at the back of neck, her hand moving
automatically to the tiny scar that held so many secrets. A wave of
heat washed over her causing her to flush, her heart rate nearly
doubling.

"Scully?"

She turned again at the sound of Mulder's voice.

How did he get here so fast?

"Scully? Are you in here?"

The humming inside her grew stronger, sending out vibrations that
made her arms shake and her legs feel suddenly too achy to support
her. She dropped the flashlight and leaned against the generator
closest to her. The metal panel felt cool against her forehead.

"Scully?" Mulder had turned the corner and was walking towards her
now. Nausea clenched her stomach into a knot, she looked up to see
Mulder standing above her.

No. Not Mulder. Mulder was with Gibson, wasn't he? Oh God. Don't
think about it, he can hear you. It's Holland.

"Where is he taking the boy?" Not Mulder asked.

A hotel room late at night.  ~Tell me where he is.~

"I know you..." she said.

~I don't know what you're talking about...~  Every word had been an
effort as she fought for air. There had been an unexpected lurch as
she became airborne and then the sickening crunch of glass meeting
flesh. She had been dazed, that was the only explanation for what
happened next. Mulder had changed - morphed before her very eyes
into another man.

"Get up," Not Mulder said coldly, gesturing for her to rise.

Can't. I can't move. Gibson, can you hear me? Get out of here. Tell
Mulder to take you as far away from here as you can get. Leave.
Please god, just let them leave.

Not Mulder reached down, his hand grabbing her upper arm to pull
her upright. Scully sucked in a breath at the contact. It was like
an electrocution, cold heat raced through her, numbing her limbs.

Just like at the airport, but it's worse now. It hurts, it hurts.
Why would it be worse? Is it continued exposure? Is it something
here at BCTR?

As Scully was yanked her to her feet she let out an involuntary
yelp, stumbling forward on paralyzed legs.

Get..., oh god, make it stop. Mulder, get Gibson away from here...

Pain. She had never felt so much pain.

I'm dying, she thought distantly. When they do my post-mortem will
they find a scorched network of cells in the place of my central
nervous system?

Her mind conjured up the image of herself arguing with Mulder over
her own autopsy results.  Mulder that's impossible. You don't
really expect me to believe that he killed me simply by touching
me?

You tell me, Scully. Is it possible? Would it kill you just once to
admit that I was right?

It did, Mulder. It did kill me. I'm so sorry, Mulder... I should
have told you, just once, how much you meant to me. God, this
hurts, make it stop. Make it stop, Mulder.  Mulder. ~I owe you
everything, Scully, and you owe me nothing.~  You're right - it
wouldn't hurt me to admit you were right. You were right about so
many things, Mulder. Make it stop, please, make it go away. I can't
explain any of it but you were right. Get Gibson away from here.
Make it stop hurting. Mulder, I'm sorry. I'm sorry I won't get to
argue with you anymore. I won't get to...

The Not Mulder continued walking, pulling Scully's unresisting body
after him.

*****

End 6/8

Fidelity 7/8
Disclaimer in part 1
Missing parts at http://alanna.net/sue

*****

Barron Centers for Transgenetic Research
West Virginia

"He's a tough little kid," Frohike commented with admiration as
Mulder and Gibson came running around the corner of the warehouse.
"Smaller than he looks in his pictures."

"Wise beyond his years," Langly pronounced.

"Where's Scully?" Frohike wondered aloud as Mulder and Gibson
reached the van.

Gibson was panting from the run, his words coming out in gasps.
"She's... still... inside. She's... coming... out."

Mulder looked at Gibson and then back at the building. A minute
passed with no Scully.

Where is she? Before he could speak Gibson put a hand on his arm.
"No, she's on her way. If you go back in you'll just complicate
things. Give her a few minutes, she'll be here. She's...." Gibson
broke off speaking, turning to look at the building thoughtfully.

"What?" Mulder asked.

"There's someone following her. She can't hear him but I can."

"Who's following her? Holland?" She said she couldn't hear him
before. Why can't she hear him? Why can you, Gibson?

Gibson moved quickly, standing in front of Mulder just as he was
about to start back towards the building.

"Wait, you can't go back in there."

"Why not?"

"You'll make things worse. He'll kill you."

"Who?" Is he going to kill Scully? "Who's following her? What's
going on?"

Gibson's face grimaced. "She says to leave. Right now."

"Without her? Why?"

Gibson looked up at Mulder. "She's not coming."

Not coming?  No.  "What's happened?"

Gibson looked past Mulder to the building. "She's hurt, I think.
There's a lot of noise, I can't hear her very well."

Hurt? Hurt how? "Help me, Gibson. Where is she?"

"She wants us to leave." Gibson turned to look at the main
building. "They'll be here soon. He's taking her to the Smoking
Man. She's right, we have to leave now."

I can't just leave her here.

"Who will be here? Tell me where she is." Mulder bent down so that
his face was even with Gibson's.

Gibson frowned. "He's, uh, he's taking her outside, there's a car
on the other side of the warehouse waiting for them. There's
another man like him inside."

Mulder lifted Gibson into the van. "Get him out of here. Don't go
back to the motel, take him somewhere else. I'll contact you when I
can." As Mulder went to shut the door Gibson put up his hand to
stop him.

"You won't make it to her in time. You should just get in with us
and we can follow them. They don't want me, they want her. If you
get in the way they will kill you."

Mulder hesitated and then climbed into the van, slamming the door
shut in frustration. A few seconds later a car came around the side
of the building, gaining speed rapidly as it passed them.

"Go!" Mulder hardly needed to say the words as Langly gunned the
engine to follow.

"What's she thinking now, Gibson?" Is she ok?

"She's not."

She's not? She's not thinking? God, no...

The van pitched sharply to the right as Langly tried to maneuver a
corner. Far ahead Mulder could see the tail lights of the car with
Scully turning onto the main road.

Damn, damn, damn! We're losing them. Gibson, where are they going?

By the time Langly reached the main road they were gone.

"Damn," Frohike said softly.

"Why do they want her, Gibson?"

"To continue the tests. I tried to tell her that it was a setup.
That's why she had you guys split up. She was trying to buy you
enough time to get to me."

Scully.

"What tests, Gibson? Where are they taking her?"

"To the train yard."

"I'm on it," Langly said as he turned left. "We passed the yard
last night on our way down from D.C."

"Gibson, why couldn't she hear him?" Mulder asked. "The man you
said was following her, why couldn't Scully hear him and you can?"

"He's an alien. She can't hear them."

"Why can you?"

Gibson shrugged. "I only turned on the chip, I didn't activate her
DNA. That's what they want to do."

"Activate it how? To make her like you?"

"No, to make her like the other lady. The one who died."

Other lady? Cassandra. My god. Mulder closed his eyes as he
remembered Cassandra, whole and healthy, after she had been found
in an incinerated boxcar. ~Whatever it is they did to me..., and to
you, Dana.  Mulder, I was taken to one of those train cars. I was
tested, just like Cassandra....~

"She said you were right."

Mulder looked down at Gibson in confusion. "Who did? Scully? About
what? What was I right about?"

Gibson furrowed his brow, considering. "I don't know. I thought you
might. She was thinking about you arguing with her and she was
admitting you were right. She was kinda confused, he hurt her
really bad." Mulder's stomach lurched. "She was sorry she wouldn't
get to argue with you anymore."

~He hurt her really bad. What's she thinking now? She's not. Hurt
her really bad. Hurt her really bad. She was sorry she wouldn't get
to argue with you anymore. To make her like the other lady. She's
not thinking. Hurt her really bad, really bad. Scully? Can you hear
me? Hang on. I can't think of anyone else I'd rather argue with. 
She was admitting you were right.  To make her like the other lady.
The one who died. The other lady....~

*****

Boxcar 592912
West Virginia

Scully awoke to a blinding light. She shut her eyes tightly,
turning her head to avoid it.

"You're awake, how unfortunate."

I know that voice.

She heard a match striking up, there was the sweet stench of
tobacco and she was certain she knew that voice. Scully opened her
eyes to check.

"What..." she started before her throat closed off. She swallowed
to try and work her voice loose.

His smile was almost fatherly. "How are you feeling?"

Scully said nothing.  CGB Spender. Cigarette Smoking Man, whoever
the hell you are, why am I here? Why can't I move? Why is it so
quiet?

"I'm told you were made quite uncomfortable by the deactivation of
the chip. I'm afraid my man wasn't as gentle as young Mr. Praise
was."

Scully attempted to sit up but was brought short by the restraints
on her wrists and ankles. Shit. She was on an operating table,
looking around she realized she had seen this layout before. Once
before in a boxcar in West Virginia and again when Cassandra had
been found. Fear shot through her but she refused to give him the
satisfaction of squirming.

There was a rattling sound and another man stepped into view,
pushing a surgical cart before him. He was wearing surgical scrubs,
a face mask hanging loosely against his neck.

God, no....

Scully tried again to lift her hands, but the restraints were
pulled tight. Her arms shook and a wave of nausea rolled over her.
Her legs still felt numb from whatever had happened when the Not
Mulder touched her. How long have I been unconscious? Did Mulder
and Gibson make it out?

CGB stepped aside so the other man could beginning setting up the
surgical trays. Scully lost sight of the technician as he ducked
down to check something beneath the cart.

"Ask me, I'll tell you whatever you want to know. It will never go
beyond this room."  He smiled again, pride evident in his features.

Scully took a deep breath, ignoring the implication of his words.
"Why Gibson?" Her voice felt scratchy, unused.

CGB raised his eyebrows, surprised at her question. "We needed the
DNA, all our samples, all our work, it was all destroyed by the
rebels."

"They took the wellspring."

"Very good, Agent Scully. You were always a quick study."

"What is the wellspring?"

The technician stood back up, uncapping a small gauge needle with a
clear substance inside.

"Perhaps I was too quick in complimenting you. You know what the
wellspring is. You've held it in your hands. You traded it once,
for Agent Mulder's life."

~The wellspring, Miss Scully. The original tissue....~ She
remembered Deep Throat's anxiety for Mulder, the trip to Fort
Marlene to obtain the alien fetus. She had thought it a fake, a
hoax more on the same level as a Fiji mermaid. Not something worth
killing over.

"The wellspring is the source of all the DNA we've used in our
experiments, we paid a heavy price for it. In all the hybrids we've
created, we have never met with the same success as we did with the
Praise boy. His genes were a match for the wellspring's. When he
was born we never realized his potential."

The second man took an alcohol pad and cleaned a small patch on the
inside of her right arm. Scully curled her fingers closed but her
hand shook anyway.

"Gibson is a hybrid?"

"No, Gibson is the same as you or I in many respects. He was a test
tube baby, conceived with entirely human ova and sperm. I believe
the dear departed Dr. Openshaw activated genes in Gibson that are
present in alien DNA, but dormant in the rest of us. We can't quite
figure out how he did it. The boy's parents left the country. We
let them go, we had bigger problems. More pressing issues to attend
to. Until we discovered his little 'gift'. Then it became quite
important to find the boy, make him an ally. Or destroy him."

Scully tried not to flinch as she felt the prick of a needle in her
arm.

"Alas, the boy has been difficult to reason with. It no longer
matters. We need our resources elsewhere. We are now in a race
against the resistance. Perhaps we chose unwisely, siding with the
colonists instead of the rebels."

He drew in a deep lung full of smoke and slowly exhaled it,
flicking his cigarette to loosen a small puff of ash. "It is too
late in the game to change sides. We must have another successful
hybrid, another Cassandra or all our plans are ruined."

"Why Cassandra? Why pick your ex-wife for your tests? Was that some
sort of revenge?"

CGB gave a small grimace. "Revenge was never a factor. Cassandra
was best suited, genetically, to our end goal. As are you, Agent
Scully."

"How do you know that? From the tests you did the first time I was
abducted?"

"We knew long before then.  You were only taken to keep Mulder in
line. It was serendipity that taking you furthered our other aims."

"How could you know? What is your criteria?"

"We've collected genetic samples on nearly everyone. You saw our
storehouse once, right here in West Virginia."

~Lots and lots of files.~

"We would collect the data coincident with the smallpox
vaccination. Those whose genetic material was close to the criteria
set by men like Openshaw, Zama and Klemper were catalogued."

"Given a chip, you mean."

"Last year the rebels began destroying our carefully selected
group, in an attempt to ruin our efforts to create the human/alien
hybrid that would signal the beginning of colonization."

"Why an alien/human hybrid?"

"To serve as slaves to the new colonists. Anyone who wasn't
hybridized would be used as a host, like the researcher you saw in
Arizona. Indeed, you yourself were infected with the virus last
year. We have developed a weak vaccine against the effects of the
aliens' life force. If not for our efforts you wouldn't be here
today."

Cassandra's desperate appeal came back to her. ~A black substance
called 'purity'. Their life force.~

"Purity."

CGB's smile was genuine. "Precisely. Purity control was our stroke
of genius, a vaccine against the alien virus. With it, we could
save the world. But the rebels have forced our hand, we're hoping
by offering a hybrid human, we can strike a bargain with the
colonists."

Scully's eyes felt heavy, the sedation was beginning to take
effect. He shouldn't be smoking in here, Scully thought as she
blinked her eyes, trying to get them to open wider in an attempt to
stay awake.

"When we learned that Gibson had successfully activated your chip
we realized that you were a better candidate than Dr. Zama had
thought. Gibson became superfluous, it was you we needed."

"But you said you turned off the chip, why?"

"Sometimes, Agent Scully, knowledge is a tricky thing." CGB took a
final drag, stubbing the cigarette out in the sink. "Who knows?
Someday you may thank me for this."

End 7/8

Fidelity 8/8
Disclaimer in part 1
Missing parts at http://alanna.net/sue

*****

"Shit!"  Langly swore again, this time not bothering to apologize
to Gibson.  "I swear it looked like you could drive right to it in
the daylight."

"How close are we?" Mulder asked, feeling a rising panic.  It was
like Sky Mountain all over again.  He couldn't live with arriving a
few minutes too late this time.

Gibson tilted his head, listening to the distance.  "They're pretty
faint."  His eyebrows furrowed and he shook his head.  "I think
they're getting ready to leave."

Damn, damn, damn.  Is that half a mile then, Gibson?  Is your range
the same as Scully's?

The van took a sharp corner, thudding heavily over some railroad
tracks, and Mulder came up with another plan.

"Stop the van!" Mulder was already opening the door.  "Which way
guys?  Which way is the yard?"  The van slowed to a crawl and
Mulder hopped out, switching on his flashlight.  Frohike gestured
to his left. 

"That way, it's that way.  We just need to find the right road...."

"Keep driving then, see if you can find the yard and I'll meet you
there.  I'm going up the tracks."  Mulder set off up the tracks,
hoping that the train was going to be coming this way.

After a few minutes he began to doubt the wisdom in striking off on
his own, even with the flashlight it was difficult to keep his
footing on the uneven tracks.  Casting the light around Mulder
hoped for a road running parallel to the tracks, but there was none
to be found.  Gravel crunched beneath his feet as he jogged along,
wishing he could go faster.  

It seemed like hours before he heard the distant whistle of a
train.  Mulder paused, straining his ears and eyes down the track
but he was unable to tell how far the train was or if it was even
headed towards him.  He set off again, pushing the pace a little
faster.

Can't let it  happen again.  Can't let it happen again.  Can't let
it happen again.

The train's whistle sounded again, this time it was definitely
closer.  There was a trestle bridge up ahead and Mulder stopped. 
Should he wait here or catch the train on the other side of the
bridge?  He could hear a rumble up ahead, feel the track begin to
vibrate beneath his feet.

But what if it wasn't her train?

He'd have to take that chance.  Mulder switched off the flashlight
and backed up from the track a few feet to wait.  On the other side
of the bridge a train came from around a hill, chugging along at a
slow pace.  

At least he wouldn't have to run hard to catch it.

Mulder waited as three engines growled slowly past followed by oil
tankers, coal cars, carrier cars but nothing like the specialized
boxcar he was expecting.  As the train kept moving past, gradually
picking up speed, Mulder began to despair.  

This isn't her train.  I'll never find her.  He saw Duane Barry
once more, his arms lifted to the heavens in jubilation.  ~Where is
she? They took her....~

The cars squealed and hissed, creaking on the rails as they moved
past.  He could see the darkened outline of the last car on the
train coming across the bridge.  It looked like... it was.  The
boxcar dimly reflected the moonlight as it trundled towards him. 
Mulder came closer to the track, reaching out to grab the railing
on the final car.  He jogged alongside for a few strides and then
swung up on the back of the train.  

Mulder pushed against the back door but it didn't budge.  The
window was dark.  Covered from the inside?  He couldn't tell. 
Mulder climbed up the ladder to the right of the door, picking his
way carefully across the roof of the boxcar to come down on the
opposite side.  Light was coming through the window on this end and
he could see a man in surgical scrubs moving around inside.  The
train lurched and he saw the corner of a table when the curtain
hiding it swayed.  There was someone lying on the table, their bare
toes visible to his view.

Mulder tried the door.  This time it came open, allowing him into
the small anteroom.  Mulder twisted the handle to the second door
but it wouldn't open.  Cursing under his breath he called to Scully
in his mind.  Scully!  Can you hear me?  Scully?  Dammit, please
hear me.  ~He hurt her really bad. What's she thinking now?  She's
not.~

Mulder slipped back outside, looking at the connection to the
train.  Lying down on his stomach he reached forward until he could
grasp the lever connecting the boxcar to the rest of the train.  A
twist, a grinding noise and the car slid free.  For a few moments
the car continued to follow after the train before it slowed and
stopped.  Mulder returned to the anteroom, flattening himself next
to the inner door, gun at the ready.

~Hurt her really bad.~

There was a shuffling sound inside and the door began to swing
open.  Mulder tensed, hoping and praying that the man he had seen
inside was the only person there.  The man leaned his head outside
and was greeted by the muzzle of Mulder's gun.

"Back inside.  Now.  Hands where I can see them."

The man obediently raised his hands, stepping backwards into the
car.  Mulder followed him in and then gestured to the wall.  "Over
there, put your face against the wall, hands above your head."

The man did so and Mulder patted him down swiftly, finding no
weapon.  Keeping his gun trained on the man Mulder stepped
backwards, towards the curtained area.  "Where is this train going?
 What were you going to do with her?"

The man didn't answer, keeping his face to the wall.  Mulder pulled
aside the curtain, relief and fear circling through him.  It was
Scully but she was unconscious, an oxygen mask over her mouth and
nose.  She was clad in a hospital gown and he could see that her
arms and legs were bound to the table.  He pulled on the first
strap, loosening the Velcro as he called again to the man.  "What
were you going to do with her?"

This time when the man didn't answer Mulder felt something snap. 
Rage, thick and primal, surged up in him.  Damn them.  Damn them
all to hell.  What gave them the right to step in and take her
anytime they felt like it?  What gave them the right to test on
her?  To treat her like a lab rat?  To casually discard her when
she no longer suited their purposes?  

Mulder rushed over, pushing the man hard against the wall, his gun
at the base of his neck.  "I asked you a question, goddammit -
answer me!  What were you going to do with her?"  Mulder hit the
man's head against the wall again.

"Nothing," the man groaned, blood streaming from his nose.  "I
wasn't going to do anything with her.  I was just supposed to keep
her quiet until we got there."

"Got where?"

"I don't know.  They don't tell me stuff like that."

"Bullshit!"  Mulder shoved his head into the wall again.  "Where is
he?"

"Who?" the man gasped, pulling away from Mulder and wiped shakily
at his nose.  Mulder stepped back, keeping his gun trained on the
man warily.

"Your boss, Old Smokey.  I can smell the cigarettes, I know he was
here.  Where is he?"

The man pinched the bridge of his nose, tilting his head back as he
answered.  "He got off before the train left.  I don't know where
he went."

Mulder's free hand slid across his waist, searching for his
handcuffs.  They were gone and he remembered cuffing Holland to the
truck.  His eyes darted around, catching sight of the boxcar's
lavatory.

"In there," Mulder gestured with the gun.  "Go."

The man complied, walking into the small washroom.  Mulder shut the
door behind him and then looked around for something to slide
through the handle to lock it.  He could see nothing.  He took the
strap that had held down Scully's wrist and fed it through the
bathroom's handle and the grip next to it, cinching it tightly. 
Mulder pulled on the door to test the strap, it didn't budge.  He
tucked his gun back into its holster.

"What if another train comes?" the man called through the door. 
"What then?"

"I'll tell them you're here when I get back to the train yard,"
Mulled yelled as he raced back over to Scully.  He pulled the
oxygen mask gingerly off and watched anxiously.  She appeared to be
breathing fine on her own.  Relieved, Mulder unfastened the other
restraints and pulled her to a sitting position.  Her head lolled
backwards and she made no voluntary movement to help him.

~Hurt her really bad.~

"Scully?" he touched her cheek but she didn't move.  "Come on,
Scully.  Let's get you out of here."  Mulder lifted her off the
table.

"Hey!  You still out there?" the man called from inside the
washroom.  Mulder ignored him.  There was a thudding sound from
inside but the door held.  "You can't just leave me here!  Hey!"

Mulder stepped outside, wincing as he jumped to the ground, but
Scully didn't stir.  Taking a deep breath and hefting her a little
higher, he started back down the track.

Wake up, Scully.  ~Hurt her really bad.~  Please wake up.

*****

At first Scully was aware only of the swaying motion.  As she tried
to concentrate she became aware of footsteps, certain and steady. 
Her eyelids fluttered but she couldn't open them.  She became
conscious of the sound of labored breathing and she realized she
was being carried.  Against her left arm she could feel the warm
damp press of the man's body.  She could hear cicadas chirping,
feel the cool night air against her bare legs.  Opening her eyes,
Scully could see the darkened features of a man's face.  He looked
like Mulder.  Oh god, was this another one of those dreams?  How
would he kill her this time?

Scully flexed her toes and her entire body screamed in protest. 
Pain.  It still hurt.  She saw again the Not Mulder watching her
with dead eyes as she crumpled before him.  Then she woke up,
didn't she?  The Smoking Man.  That's right.  He was there too. 
They were going to do something with her.  What was it?  Panic
flooded through her as she recalled what had happened.  She wasn't
just going to sit by and let them take her again.  Not this time.

Pushing hard against the Not Mulder, she succeeded in startling him
enough that he let her legs drop.  Her feet screamed in protest as
they met with the gravel beneath them but adrenaline pushed her
past the pain to twist away from him.

"Scully?" 

Damn, he sounded so much like Mulder.  It wasn't fair.  She
remembered her dream, the bitterness in Mulder's eyes when he had
pulled the trigger.  It hadn't been Mulder at all, it had been this
man her subconscious was warning her about.

Scully swung her arm, but before she could connect with his jaw his
hand grabbed her wrist, holding her in place.

"No!" she cried out, twisting ineffectually against him.  Her
entire body was shaking at the exertion, at least this time it
didn't seem to hurt as badly when he touched her.

"Scully.  Scully it's me."

~Scully, what are you doing?  It's me.~  She'd heard those words
before, just before she'd been sent flying against the wall.

"Scully, stop.  Hey, it's me.  Can't you hear me?"

~Hear me?~  Those words sunk in and she looked up, wishing it
weren't so dark she couldn't see his eyes.  The Not Mulder would
know that she couldn't hear him.  But Mulder... Mulder wouldn't.

"Mulder?"

"Yes.  It's me.  It's okay."  The hands holding her wrists loosened
and she felt her legs give out.  The adrenaline was gone, replaced
by exhaustion.

"Hey," he caught her around the waist, holding her steady against
him as she fought the sudden overwhelming urge to cry.  It was
really Mulder.  "Scully?"

"I can't hear you anymore," she told him, her voice trembling. 
"I'm sorry, Mulder.  I thought you were someone else."

"Here, come on, let's move over here.  Let's sit down for a minute,
you're shaking."

"No, I'm all right."  She took a deep breath to steady herself. 
"Where were you taking me?"

"Back to the train yard, Frohike and Langly are waiting for us
there."

"What about Gibson?"

"Him too.  Come on Scully, sit down."

Scully was about to argue, but her legs gave her away, buckling
beneath her again.  It's just from the anesthesia, she thought. 
It's not permanent.

"Mulder, where are my shoes?" she asked as she picked her way
carefully to the side of the track.  

"I don't know.  This is how I found you.  Sorry, I didn't think to
look for shoes.  Here," he took her arm to guide her down the
embankment.  They both turned and sat against the hill at the
bottom.

"So you really can't hear me anymore?"  The disappointment was
evident in his voice.

"No," she turned to face him, barely seeing him in the scant
moonlight.  "There was a man, he looked like you, but I think it
was Holland again.  He reversed it somehow."

Mulder let out a sigh, wondering if Gibson could reactivate it.  He
doubted Scully would even want him to.  And who was to say that all
this activation/deactivation wouldn't ruin the chip?  It wasn't
worth the risk.

"How far is it?  To the train yard?" Scully asked.

Mulder shrugged.  "I don't know.  We can't be too far away, the
train was still moving pretty slow when I caught it.  We've
probably come at least a mile since we left the boxcar."

Scully was silent so Mulder kept talking.  "I think Gibson's range
was better than yours."

Scully smiled despite herself.  "Well, that would make sense, he'd
lived with it a lot longer than I did."

"Are you sorry it's gone?" 

"No.  It wasn't as much fun as you think it was."

"Because of the headaches?" Mulder asked.

"Because of what you hear.  Most people really aren't thinking
anything special, Mulder.  It was really just noise pollution that
no earplugs in the world could fix."

"Admit it, Scully.  You enjoyed it."

She was silent for a long moment and then she cleared her throat. 
"It had its moments."

"Like what?" Mulder pressed, curious to see what she'd say.

Scully smiled widely.  "Mulder, I don't have to read your mind to
know what you're getting at.  Let me just reassure you that being
inside your mind was every bit as frightening as I ever might have
imagined it would be."

Mulder laughed.  "So you haven't lost all respect for me?"  And
then he winced, realizing that for a time he had nearly lost
respect for her.  What was worse, she knew it.

Scully shook her head, her hand reaching out to touch his.  "There
have been many times over the years when I've questioned what you
were thinking.  I have to admit that even being able to hear you, I
still wondered."

Mulder touched her cheek, willing her to hear his heart as he
spoke.  "I am so sorry I doubted you, Scully.  You know that much,
right?"

Just as it had last summer in his hallway, Mulder's intensity
brought tears to her eyes.  Scully took a deep breath.  "I know
it," she whispered.  "I know how you feel."

~One toke over the line, sweet Jesus....~

Mulder dropped his hand, fighting the urge to pull her close.  Not
here.  Not like this.  

Scully looked away, grateful for the darkness as she flushed.  Her
stomach tightened as she remembered with clarity the sensation of
Mulder's strong arms cradling her as he carried her down the tracks
only minutes earlier.  She remembered his feelings back at the KOA,
his concern for her.  At that moment she wished she could have read
his mind, even as she was certain what he was thinking already.

"We should get going," she said, her voice faltering.

"Yes," Mulder stood, offering her his hand to help her up.  Scully
took it, feeling little arcs of pleasure shoot up her arm at the
contact.  She released his hand as soon as she was standing but the
tingle remained.

They set off down the tracks again, Scully taking care to only step
on the trestles.  Occasionally Mulder would gently tap on her arm
to guide her or move in front of her to kick a rock off the tracks.
 Tired from the night, with her feet aching and her legs still
shaky from the anesthesia and Holland's touch, she didn't protest. 


As they came in sight of the train yard Scully reached behind to
check the back of her hospital gown.  No sense in giving Frohike
more fuel for the fantasy - even if she was still wearing
underwear.  She could have sworn Mulder's eyes twinkled when he
caught the gesture.

"A little late for modesty, isn't it, Scully?" he teased, knowing
full well why she was suddenly self-conscious.

Scully wisely ignored him

"Mulder!  Over here!"  Langly's voice came from across the yard and
they turned in that direction.  When they reached the van it seemed
to Scully that it had been an eternity since she had last seen it. 
After climbing inside she sank wearily onto the seat.

"How is she?" Langly asked quietly before Mulder got in the van.  

"She's okay," Mulder assured him.  

"Where's Gibson?" Scully called from inside.  Mulder paused,
turning to see Langly shuffling his feet.

"He, ah, Frohike went after him.  When we got here I went to the
control tower to see when the train left, if it was possible to
call them back.  On the way back to the van I passed Frohike
looking for the kid."

Scully closed her eyes, exhaling a sigh of frustration.  

"I'm sure he's fine, his mom probably knew to come to BCTR to find
him," Mulder said, trying to reassure himself as well.  "Langly, go
back and tell them there's a boxcar stopped on the tracks a few
miles away.  There's a man locked inside who should be arrested for
assaulting a federal officer.  Tell them not to release him until I
have the chance to question him."  Langly nodded and ran off for
the traffic tower.

As Langly's footsteps faded in the distance Frohike came around the
back of the van.

"Mulder, I thought I heard you.  Where's Scully?"

"Inside," Mulder nodded towards the van.  "Where's Gibson?"

"Gone.  One minute he's telling me that you found Scully, the next
minute he's muttering something about his mom and he's out the
door.  I went after him but I couldn't find him."

"Great," Mulder sighed, leaning against the side of the van in
defeat.  "Just great.  Did you see anyone else?  Any cars coming or
going?"

"No, but maybe he met her at the road."

"I don't necessarily mean his mother, the Smoking Man was here
too."

Frohike shook his head.  "I didn't see him, man.  Sorry.  You don't
think he found Gibson, do you?"

"I don't know.  I'm sure he'd like to.  But, believe me, if Gibson
doesn't want to be found, nobody is going to find him."

*****

As the van rattled down I-66 towards D.C. Mulder felt himself
nodding off to sleep.  I'm getting too old to keep making these
road trips.  

Mulder blinked back to awareness at the sudden weight against his
shoulder.  Scully's head had slipped sidewise in her sleep, coming
to rest against him.  Mulder shifted a little and she leaned more
heavily against him, nodding in time to the van's sway.  Bone tired
and lulled by his partner's warmth, Mulder let his head drop so
that his cheek rested against Scully's hair.  He turned his head
slightly and pressed a quick kiss to the crown of her head.

In the front seat Langly glanced in the rear view mirror, smiling
at the picture the two presented.  He cleared his throat softly and
Frohike half-turned to view them.  Mulder's eyes opened and he
lifted his head.

"Got a camera?" he asked Frohike.

Frohike turned back around.  "I'm just glad you two could work it
out."

Mulder said nothing, remembering all too well the shock on the
faces of the Gunmen after he and Scully had argued over Diana in
front of them.  Even with all the proof before her, Scully had not
said "I told you so."

"Hey, Frohike," Mulder called out softly and Frohike turned his
head to show he was listening.  "Love means never having to say
you're sorry."

"Bullshit."  Frohike turned to face forward.  "You should always
apologize."

I already did.  Apology accepted.  God, I'm an ass.

Scully snapped awake, lifting her head off Mulder's shoulder.  "How
close are we?"

"Maybe another forty-five minutes," Mulder replied.  

Scully shifted on the seat, missing the warmth of him, but needing
to put some distance between them for her own sake as the
boundaries between them seemed to be fading fast.  A chill ran up
her spine and she shivered at the unpleasant sensation of being
followed.  She looked back, seeing headlights far behind them.  Was
Holland tracking them?  Or was he already at her house, waiting for
her to come home?

"You know what, Scully?  We're right back where we started. 
Again."  Mulder said softly, watching the darkness roll by outside
the van's window.

Scully was silent for a moment.  "No.  Not right where we started,
Mulder.  We still have something to follow up on.  BCTR.  The
boxcar and the man inside.  We'll find the men responsible, Gibson
pointed us in the right direction.  Even if they're gone by the
time we get there, they can't take away what we know happened. 
We'll find Gibson again, or he'll find us."

Neither of them spoke, both frightened by the implications if They
came looking for Scully again.

Mulder cleared his throat softly.  "Look, Scully, just for tonight,
I'd feel better if we stayed with the Gunmen.  We can call ...."

"No, Mulder," Scully interrupted but he held up his hand to stop
her.

"We can call Skinner, see what he can work out to keep us from
being arrested.  You're tired, Scully.  You've had a rough week. 
You've lost your weapon.  You're in no shape to deal with Holland
or anyone else who comes calling.  Just for tonight.  Okay?"

Scully opened her mouth again to protest but realized that Mulder
was right.  

"Fine.  Just for tonight."

*****

"Yes?" Skinner's voice was clipped and for a moment Mulder wavered.

"Sir?"

There was a short pause.

"Are you on a secure line?" Skinner asked.

Mulder looked around the Lone Gunmen's techno-den.  "I'm in the
Oval Office."

"You're in deep shit, Mulder."

"I do my best work in deep shit, hasn't A.D. Kersh told you?"

Skinner let out a sigh.  "Actually I've been wondering when you two
would turn up.  I assume Agent Scully is with you?"

Mulder glanced over at the bathroom door.  "She's under the desk,
sir."

"Patricia Praise showed up in the St. Louis office two days ago
demanding that the kidnapping charges against Agent Scully be
dropped.  When I called the Phoenix office about the other
allegations lodged against you two I learned that Agent Riley
disappeared in a hurry and that there is not an Agent Holland nor
an Agent Cummings working out of or in conjunction with their
office.  They're willing to suspend the charges while they conduct
an internal investigation."

"What about Agent Fowley?" Mulder asked.

"Agent Fowley requested and was granted a transfer this morning."

"To where?"

"I wasn't informed."

Mulder said nothing.  Once again, no good-bye kiss.  Funny how you
learn to live without it after all.

"What happened here, Mulder?  I've got my hands full trying to
convince the powers-that-be that I don't have two loose cannons on
my hands now.  Frankly, I expect this kind of behavior from you,
not from Agent Scully."

"Agent Scully was acting in the best interests of Gibson Praise,
sir.  She kept him safe until his mother could reach him."

"And Gibson is with his mother now?

"I don't know,"  Mulder closed his eyes, suddenly weary of the
conversation.  "We think he's back with his mother.  There were
some complications, sir.  They took Scully a second time and I
believe that they will try to do so again."  

"Took her?  She's with you now, right?"  

"Right.  But for how long?"

Skinner didn't answer.  Mulder rubbed his eyes with his free hand
as his exhausted mind turned in frantic circles.  ~I believe that
they will try to do so again.~

"Get some sleep, Mulder.  You sound horrible.  I want you two in my
office tomorrow morning, bright and early and we'll start working
through this mess.  Do you understand me?"

"Yes, sir," Mulder murmured.  Skinner disconnected and Mulder sat,
eyes still closed, ignoring the dial tone until the "please hang up
message" came on.  As the message sounded for the second time,
Mulder hung up the phone and then leaned forward, folding his arms
on the desk and resting his forehead against them.

He heard the soft sound of her footsteps behind him a moment before
the blanket descended on his shoulders.  "What did Skinner say?"
she asked.

Mulder felt a pang of grief, of love, of gratitude, all rolled into
one, at her touch.  He kept his head down, biting his lip while he
waited for the sensation to pass.

"Mulder?" Scully questioned softly.

"He said to be in his office first thing tomorrow," Mulder's voice
was muffled by his arms, but Scully heard the quaver.  "You're off
the hook, Patricia cleared you of kidnapping.  They can't find
Holland, Cummings or Riley so Phoenix is dropping the charges until
they can figure out what happened."

Mulder sighed into his arms, waiting for her to ask.  When she
didn't he sighed again.

"Diana's gone.  She got a transfer and left this morning."

Well, it would have been my word against hers anyway, Scully
thought.  And we all know how well that's turned out before. 
Scully reached forward, touching Mulder's shoulder.  "I'm sorry,
Mulder."

Mulder shook his head against his arms.  "No.  Let's just not get
into it.  She's gone.  End of story."  He lifted his head, staring
at the wall in front of him.  "Okay?"

Scully said nothing, watching the tense line of his shoulders.  For
a long couple of minutes the silence stretched on between them,
each lost in their own recollections of the past few days.

"I," Scully said and paused for a moment as she considered her
words.  "I have to believe that we will find the men responsible
one day, Mulder.  I'm not giving up until we do."

Mulder gave a silent laugh and put his head down on his arms again.
 "Remember when I said we were right back where we started?"  He
shook his head against his arms and then lifted it, turning to give
her a tired smile.  "I was right."

Scully shook her head, not understanding.

"With you, Scully.  I'm with you."

*****

End 8/8

After nine months in the making I surely would appreciate a comment
or two.  Please?  sister_suze@yahoo.com

***
Author's Notes:
This fic would never have been finished if not for the support and
virtual love from a wonderful group of people.  When I started this
story way back in November 1998, I bounced the original idea off
Dasha and Sharon.  They gave me the green light and I started
writing.  The first few chapters were sent out to Sharon, Rachel
and Alanna but then RL started hogging all my time.  By the end of
March I had gained a beta in Susanne and lost everyone but Sharon. 
This is what happens when you're not productive.    

In the spring Laney stepped up to the plate and gave me the push I
needed to keep writing - if only I could have found the time.  She
made some excellent plot points and it's my loss that I couldn't
bend the story to fit all of them.

Then "Biogenesis" aired and I nearly deleted the whole thing.  It
seemed like everyone was writing a mind-reading fic and I didn't
want to get lost in the shuffle.  That's when Susanne began
pestering me - in the nicest possible way.  Seriously, if it
weren't for Susanne, this story would never have been finished. She
provided countless late night IM sessions as a therapist, a
sounding board, a take-no-prisoners editor with a keen eye for the
details, and a boundlessly enthusiastic researcher.  (What is the
proper name for that processed cheese in a can?  Which Gunmen runs
fastest?)

Thank you, Susanne - I could never have done it without you.   

It seems cruel to make Sharon beta a story that was meant, since
the day it entered my head, for her.  But that's just what I did.  
 She's been here all along, encouraging my behavior and holding me
up when I faltered.  The inspiration for this was gleefully stolen
from "Aftershock".  I was so blown away by that story that it began
to permeate my imagination.  I wanted to know what would happen if
Scully read Mulder's mind.  Thank you, Sharon, for letting me play
with your idea.

I also owe a huge debt of gratitude to everyone who wrote me after
this was put on my site as a WIP - especially Linda, Sonny, M,
Beaker, Shari and Nancy.  Some of you caught my mistakes.  A couple
of you took it upon yourselves to make sure everyone knew about
this story.  All of you were enthusiastic above and beyond the call
of feedback.  I owe you guys more than I could ever repay (or
reply).




===
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"If I sit long enough it just comes to me."
Phillip Padgett, 'Milagro'

Is your mouse flabby and listless?  Come work it out here   http://alanna.net/sue

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