Title - The Four Corners Cycle, Book Four: 
Yekaterina's Kiss (5 of 9)
Author - Spookey247 

She's lost track of how long she's been watching him 
sleep. 

The boy's tall, muscular body covers the narrow bed 
almost completely, his large, square hands lying 
quietly against the white sheet. His hands are 
scarred and stained.  They look incredibly cruel.  
It's not hard to imagine them killing an insect for 
fun, torturing a dog, striking a woman.  It's more of 
a stretch to imagine them crushing the life out of 
someone as strong as Stephen.

But Yekaterina wants to believe.  

She reaches out and runs her fingers over the red-
brown skin of his forehead, trailing them back into 
his long, dark hair.  She studies his face, notes the 
high cheekbones and prominent, hawk-like nose.  

He looks just like the women in room three. 

He's in pain.  His brows knit together as he stirs on 
the pillow, tongue slipping fitfully along the full 
lower lip, eyelids hovering just on the edge of 
wakefulness.  Yekaterina picks up the hastily 
scribbled chart from the bedside table.  He took a 
bullet in the lower part of his back.  They've had 
him in surgery to correct internal bleeding.  The 
bullet shattered one of the lower vertebrae.  
Possible paralysis.

Yekaterina wonders how much pain Stephen suffered 
when he was dying.  She can't get his face out of her 
head; keeps seeing his pale blue eyes and his smile, 
remembering his bewildering gentleness.  She had 
never experienced compassion or tenderness until they 
became friends, and even after she understood that he 
was not trying to trick her, that he actually was as 
kind as he seemed, she had been unable to trust 
herself to that gentleness.  It simply seemed far too 
good to be true.

Now she wishes she had allowed herself to love him 
more.

The boy moans, very softly.  His eyes open briefly, 
then squeeze shut against the light.

Hatred is eating her insides like acid.  Yekaterina 
fights to stay calm.

"I feel like a third wheel," Wallace comments, 
grinning.  He leans in the open door.  "Whatcha 
waiting for, anyway?  That kid's never gonna wake 
up."

"You don't know shit, Wallace," Yekaterina snaps.  
"Think they'd waste time and supplies if they didn't 
mean to save him?  He's going to recover."  She spits 
the words out like rancid meat.

"Well, okay.  Suppose he does.  Why are you hanging 
around?  Waiting to thank him or something?"

"Will you just...*go somewhere*, please?"  Yekaterina 
spins on her heel and stalks threateningly toward 
him.  "This is none of your business."

"You think just cause your father runs this place 
you're everybody's damn boss," Wallace counters, 
taking a step back, his sardonic expression 
unchanged.  "You're not my fucking boss, okay?  Birch 
is my boss, and Birch said guard the prisoner.  So it 
*is* my business...I should make *you* leave."

"You know what?  I've kicked your ass before and I 
can kick it again."  Yekaterina takes another step 
forward, glaring up at him, pulling her jacket off 
and balling her fist.

Wallace takes another step back. "Damn, woman.  
You're really pissed, aren't you?  If I didn't know 
you better I'd think you were in love with Stephen or 
something..."

Yekaterina's arm shoots out.  Her fingers lock onto 
Wallace's collar and seize a handful of fabric.  She 
jerks his face toward her own.  "Leave," she growls.

She releases him.  He jerks a freshly rolled 
cigarette from behind his ear and stabs it between 
his lips.  Their eyes lock.  After a long pause, 
Wallace drops his gaze to the floor.  "Mr. Birch went 
to a lot of trouble to get him here, you know," he 
mutters.  "Brought him up from Desert View on the 
back of a mule.  Came in through the lower access and 
got lost twice.  He wouldn't do all that without a 
damn good reason."

"That doesn't have anything to do with this."

"Look.  I didn't know you were gonna get like this, 
Kat, or I wouldn'tve told you anything.  You know 
Birch'll kick my ass if anything happens on my 
watch."

"So you're gonna get your ass kicked, one way or the 
other."

"Yeah.  Listen, Yekaterina..."

"You owe me.  I'll take the blame like before, okay?  
Birch can't touch me.  You'll be safe."

Wallace reddens.  "You're never gonna let me forget 
about that, are you?"

"Not likely, man.  Not if I need something.  And I 
need this.  Now."

"Jesus, you're not actually going to..."

"Shut up.  Just close the door."

~~~~

The tunnel winds into the earth, its pitch steep and 
steady. 

Mulder has to stoop in order to keep walking.  He 
raises the lantern, lips pursing as he studies the 
images carved into the walls and ceiling of the 
passage: animals and birds, human figures bearing 
jars and ceremonial items, strange symbols in 
procession, growing more elaborate and colorful the 
further they travel.  

"Do those pictures tell you anything?"  Dana passes 
her forearm across her face, wiping away dust and 
sweat.  The air is stagnant, so thick and stale she 
can taste it.

"They relate to each other.  They tell a story.  I 
think we're moving toward some kind of ceremonial 
chamber, possibly a tomb."

Ben's voice floats toward them from the darkness just 
ahead.  "Will, bring the light over here.  Looks like 
a dead end - SHIT!"

Mulder lunges forward.  "Ben!"

The sound of gravel and debris clattering down an 
incline mixes with a steady stream of curses as Ben 
plunges down some unknown slope.  There is an ominous 
silence.

"Ben!  What happened?  You all right?"

They bring the light forward.  The passage has 
widened slightly, arriving at a kind of shelf, from 
which a steep set of narrow stairs descends.  Ben is 
at the bottom of those stairs, picking himself up and 
rubbing his backside.

"Hey man, wait for the light next time," Mulder calls 
down.

"Fuck you, Will.  I was standing right next to you."  
Ben straightens up and peers into the gloom.  "Damn," 
he remarks.  "There's nothing down here.  Just a 
pit."

Dana follows Mulder down the precipitous stairway, 
her hand on his shoulder, the sharp incline forcing 
them to turn to one side as they descend.  They find 
themselves in a tall, square vestibule; she gasps as 
the lantern light slowly climbs its walls.  It is 
covered in arcane pictures and symbols, vividly 
colored and perfectly preserved in the bone-dry air 
of the ancient dwelling.

The stairs appear to be the only way out.

"Could this be it?" Dana wonders aloud.  "What do you 
think could have been in this room, to justify such 
an elaborate entrance?"

"This can't be the end of the line," Mulder says.  

He sweeps the lantern along the forward wall. "This 
is an entryway."

"Well, where's the way out then?"  Ben asks.  "Or the 
way in, or whatever."

"It's right here."  Mulder stares fixedly at 
something near the floor.  Dana and Ben lean down for 
a closer look.  "Here's how we get in."

At the bottom of a wall is a small, square portal, so 
tight it looks like it was designed for a child.

"That's it?"  Dana cannot suppress a shudder at the 
thought of sticking her head inside that hole.

"That's it," Mulder answers.  He drops to his knees 
and sprawls on the floor, pushing the lantern into 
the recess, plunging the chamber into darkness.  
"There's fresh air blowing in."

"Maybe it's just a vent, Will."  Ben shifts nervously 
beside her.  It is comforting to realize that he 
doesn't want to crawl into the portal any more than 
she does.

"No."  Mulder pulls the lantern back out of the hole 
and shines it up onto the wall above it.  "See the 
ornamentation?  That's no vent.  Sorry."  

He looks up at them from the floor.  "If I can fit 
through this then both of you can, too."

Dana swallows dust and panic.  "Okay."

"Or I can do this alone."

"Hell, no."  Ben squats down beside his friend, 
looking grim.  "But you can go first.  I don't have a 
problem with that."

Mulder smiles.  "All right, then.  Scully?"

"Go ahead."

Mulder puts the lantern back inside the portal and, 
stretching full-length on the floor, shoves his head 
and shoulders in behind it.  Dana and Ben watch as he 
disappears into the hole, boots digging into the rock 
to push himself through.

"The people who built this place, whoever they were," 
Ben murmurs, "it's a cinch they weren't nearly as big 
as Will is..."

Dana wraps her fingers around Ben's forearm.  "Oh 
god, Ben.  Don't even say it." 

For several minutes they can hear the sound of Mulder 
dragging his body through the passage, his labored 
breathing amplified by the stone in the narrow 
tunnel.  Then, silence.  

Dana holds her breath.  "Come on, Mulder," she 
mutters.

"It's not too bad." His voice bounces down the 
portal, the journey reducing its tone and character 
to a hollow, ghostly echo.  "Scully.  You next."

Ben's sighs.  "Have fun."

Dana finds Ben's hand and gives it a squeeze.  She 
stoops and inspects the portal.  The lantern glows on 
the other side.  It looks very far away.

"Try to keep your mouth closed, Scully.  Fewer 
surprises that way."

"Thanks for the warning."  Dana flattens herself 
against the stone floor and sticks her head inside 
the hole.  Her respiratory system is instantly 
overwhelmed by the shifting dust.  Her nostrils fill 
with a cloying odor.  It's the same foul stench that 
she has smelled, however faintly, ever since their 
arrival in this place.  Now it's sickeningly clear 
that the source of the odor is somewhere on the other 
side of the passage.  Her heart pounds.  

She wishes she didn't know that smell so well. 

She fits through the portal easily, the walls just 
brushing her shoulders.  She digs her toes into the 
floor and presses her forearms down hard, wriggling 
to move herself forward.  She tries to keep her 
breathing steady and slow, tries not to think about 
the heaviness of earth and time pressing on the hand-
hewn bricks above her, clamps her mouth shut against 
flying dust and trailing spider webs, keeping her 
eyes fixed on the light ahead.  Tries to hear nothing 
but Mulder's voice, gentle and reassuring, leading 
her forward.

"You're almost done, Scully.  Just a few more feet."

She finds herself reaching for his outstretched hand.  
He pulls her out of the tunnel and into fresher air. 
"Alone at last," he jokes dryly, wrapping his arms 
around her.

"Amazing what we have to go through just to get a 
little privacy."  Dana coughs to clear the dust from 
her throat and melts against his body.  The air is 
cold and surprisingly damp.  She buries her nose in 
his shirt to escape the awful smell.

"Everything all right over there?" Ben's voice sounds 
disturbingly small and distant.

Mulder holds Dana fiercely for a long, long moment.  
Then he releases her and bends toward the portal, 
pushing the lantern back inside.  "Your turn, Ben," 
he calls.

Dana finds Mulder's hand in the darkness.  She 
shivers and suppresses the urge to scream.


Meanwhile
__________

He stabs at the intercom with a wiry finger.  "Birch.  
Birch, goddammit, I know you can hear me."

After several long, annoying minutes, the intercom 
crackles and Birch's voice seeps toward him, sounding 
at once attentive and maddeningly unconcerned.  "Yes 
sir.  I'm here.  What can I do for you?"

"The patient.  You were supposed to report an hour 
ago."

"There was nothing to report, sir.  I'm with Parenti 
now.  Would you like me to put him on?"

"What do *you* think?"  He pulls his sweater tighter 
around his bony shoulders, shivering as he crosses 
the ancient stone room, the intercom clamped as close 
to his failing ear as he can manage.  He slumps into 
his armchair and puts his feet up near the heating 
unit, pressing his body into the worn upholstery, 
trying to shut out the cold.  One of the wires from 
the intercom hangs up on the back of his chair.  He 
jerks it free with a muttered curse.

"Parenti here."

"Parenti, you senile old prick, I left very specific 
instructions.  Why haven't you been in touch?"

"You said you wanted a report when we were certain of 
his condition.  We're not certain of his condition 
yet."

"Well what's your best guess, then?  Will he live?"

"Oh, yes.  He'll live, undoubtedly.  Fields thinks he 
won't walk again.  I'm not sure myself."

"Walking is not the issue.  He's not going to need to 
walk.  All I need is a living specimen."

"Well you've got that."

"Good.  And which one is it?  The older one?" 

The speaker goes dead.  He smacks it against the arm 
of his chair in frustration.

The intercom crackles to life again.  "Birch.  Answer 
me.  Did you bring the older one as we agreed?"  

"Birch here, sir.  No, it's the younger one."

"What?" He leans forward in his chair, rising 
painfully to his feet.  "I thought we agreed that the 
older one was the better choice."

"The older one was less...attainable, sir."

"I can't remember.  How old is this one?  Is he 
sufficiently mature?"

"He's mature.  He'll do."

"All right, then."

"Sir, there's more news.  You're going to be very 
pleased."

"That would be a welcome change.  Go ahead."

"I've had radio communication from base camp.  The 
Original is on his way."



A few minutes later, in the Central Chamber
__________

They stand shoulder to shoulder, swathed in blackness 
and total silence.

Mulder raises the lantern and takes a step forward.  
The feeble yellow light circles his body and 
dissipates, swirling away into empty space like water 
running down a drain.  The meager breeze is chilly, 
damp, and fetid.  Dana shudders, frozen in place.

"This room is huge, isn't it?" she whispers.

"So it would seem," Mulder answers, sounding nervous 
for the first time since they entered the cavern.

"We need more light," Ben observes, in a hush.

"You gonna crawl back through that hole and get it?" 
Mulder takes two steps forward.  Dana and Ben follow.  
Risking a few steps forward is infinitely preferable 
to being left behind in the dark.

Mulder moves forward again, reaching out with the 
lantern.  Dana and Ben shadow him, sticking close to 
the light.

"Lions and tigers and bears, huh?" Mulder's voice is 
tight and dry.

"At least Dorothy could see where she was going." 
Dana seizes hold of Mulder's shoulder with her right 
hand and reaches back for Ben with her left. 

"I'm trying to move in the direction of the draft."  
Mulder takes a few more steps, veering slightly to 
the left.  "There's bound to be a passage."

"There are lots of passages, Mulder," Dana whispers, 
horror slowly filling her insides.  "Lots of them.  
Some I think we'd really better avoid."

"Then tell me, Scully.  Try to remember.  Which way 
do we need to go?"

Dana's breath comes quick and shallow.  Quick and 
shallow like a dying bird.

She closes her eyes.  Gentle hands stroke her hair.

"Scully, you all right?"

"Stay near the wall," she gasps, "and go toward that 
smell.  As long as it keeps getting stronger, we're 
headed in the right direction." 

~~~~

The door swings shut with a matter-of-fact click.

Yekaterina stares fixedly at the body on the bed.  
Over the years she's learned, both from her father 
and the Project, that no matter how weak it may 
appear, the human body will fight with every 
available ounce of strength for the privilege of 
continuing to live. 

And this kid is big.  Even in his condition she knows 
he won't give in easily.  She watches his eyelids 
fluttering.  It's now or never, she thinks, grimly.  

There are restraints hanging off of the sides of the 
bed.  Sometimes they need them, when a mother won't 
cooperate.  Yekaterina seizes hold of one of the 
boy's hands and begins buckling the restraint around 
his wrist.  His eyes fly open.  The restrained arm 
pulls instinctively against the strap.  Yekaterina 
rushes to the other side of the bed.  His head turns 
in her direction as she buckles down his other wrist.  
His eyes are bewildered, full of fog and fear.  He 
jerks against the restraint, breath quickening.  

Yekaterina picks up a spare pillow from the end of 
the bed and holds it tightly with both hands. "You 
killed a man yesterday," she hisses, hovering over 
him.  "He was a friend of mine."

His eyes go wide as he realizes what she's doing.  
"You've got it wrong," he murmurs, wincing as he 
tries to raise his head.  "I didn't kill anybody."

Yekaterina closes her eyes wearily.  Why is it, she 
thinks, that they always say what they think I want 
to hear?  She reaches down and hits the tab that 
lowers the guard rail on the bed.  It bangs down with 
a metallic crunch.

"You're talking about Stephen, right?" he asks her, 
desperately, in a weak, raspy voice.  "Birch left him 
in the desert.  I don't know if he was already dead 
or if they killed him on purpose..."

She stops. "Tricky motherfucker.  You'd say anything 
to save yourself."  

She takes a step closer.

His chest begins to heave.  "Why would I kill him?  I 
didn't even know him."

She raises the pillow, suspending it over his face.  
He stares up in horror, struggling to break free.

"I'm not lying, I swear it.  Ask them, they'll tell 
you..." 

She flings the pillow aside and presses her lips 
against his.  

His lips clamp shut against the assault. She thrusts 
her fingers into his mouth, prying his lips apart and 
plunging her tongue inside.  Within moments, his body 
goes rigid; a stifled wailing noise boils up from the 
depths of his throat; he trembles in pain. 

Oh my god, I was right, she thinks.  Just like Papa.

She takes hold of his mind and begins sifting 
memories and emotions, feeling them quickly and 
letting the drop, like sand running through her 
fingers.  He's angry and wrathful; she sees that 
instantly.  He's afraid of dying.  He wants to go 
home.  She sees a beautiful dark-haired woman who he 
misses terribly, a tall, quiet man who he both 
admires and resents...

The tall man is familiar.  That's odd.  She can't 
imagine why, but she's certain she's seen this man 
many times before.

She searches for Stephen, but finds no hint of him.  
The boy's mind is open.  He has nothing to hide.  She 
pulls away, wiping her mouth on her forearm.  "Tell 
me what you know, and make it quick."

"About what, goddammit?" he gasps, writhing in pain 
on the bed.  "Shit, 
who are you?  Why did you do that?"

"If you don't want me to do it again you'll tell me 
everything you know about how Stephen died."

"He was hurt.  My father tried to help him.  Birch 
left him behind, in the desert near the Labs."

"Your father.  He's the tall man.  Quiet, with dark 
hair.  You don't like him very much."

He blinks back tears. "How the hell did you know 
that?"

She bends down and frees his left wrist.  "And you.  
Who are you? Why are you here?"

"I don't know why I'm here.  I don't even know where 
this is."

She crosses to the other side of the bed and swiftly 
unbuckles his right wrist.  "It's hell, kid," she 
tells him.  "And my father is the fucking devil."

Outside the Cavern
Just after Dusk
__________

Sam keeps walking, though he can't see the trail.

He walks as he walked the night he followed his 
mother.  Step after step in the clustering darkness.  
He has a light in his pack but he knows he doesn't 
need it.   He knows the spirit will light his way.

An old man walks on the trail ahead of him, dressed 
in an old-fashioned suit and tie.  He doesn't seem to 
notice that his polished shoes are completely wrong 
for the terrain.  He walks without stumbling, like 
the rocks and dirt are a well-tended lawn.  

Sam has been following him for about two hours, ever 
since arriving at the place where the rivers meet.  
He had been squatting on the sandy riverbank, filling 
his canteen and wondering desperately which way to 
walk next, when he felt a hand on his shoulder.  He 
dropped his canteen and reached for his rifle, but 
when he turned he found no one behind him.

He had been walking since first light.  He had eaten 
very little.  He figured he imagined the whole thing.

A few minutes later he had been climbing up from the 
river, headed back toward the trail, when he looked 
up and saw a familiar form standing in front of him.  
Sam hadn't laid eyes on Miles Solomon for years, but 
he knew Elise's father; knew he hadn't been well, 
that he didn't get out much anymore.

He had accepted the old man's presence with a 
grateful heart.  

Miles Solomon didn't speak.  He just started walking.  
Sam's legs were numb and his head was light but he 
started walking, too. 

The old man still hasn't said a word.  He hasn't even 
looked back.

Suddenly, Solomon stops on the trail before him.  He 
turns.  Pale blue light, like a river from his eyes.

Sam's head is hollow as a drum.  Blood roars in his 
ears.

Firelight.  He finds himself sitting in a massive 
armchair, thick carpeting under his feet.  Sam 
starts, looking around, recognizing the heavy 
mantelpiece and rich furnishings.

Riverbend.

He stares down at his hands.  Translucent flesh.  
Dark age spots.  Twisted, yellow fingernails.

"Mr. Solomon."

Sam's head jerks to the right.  He looks over his 
shoulder.  A man in a fancy suit is touching his arm.

"Yes."  His voice - like a rusted hinge opening.

"They've arrived."

"Show her to the blue room.  The doctor is waiting 
for her there."

Sam feels himself rising.  Turning to greet her.

Maia follows the butler through the room like an 
obedient child, head bowed, eyes fixed on the floor.   

He lifts a speckled hand in greeting.  "Maia.  Brave 
girl.  Thanks for helping us again."

She looks toward him for a moment.  Her tears sparkle 
in the firelight.

"Oh my god, Sam.  Sam!"

Sam stops walking.  

"Sam, oh my god, Will said you were coming.  Sam, can 
you hear me?  What's the matter, are you all right?"

Kaya's arms around him.  Matt, grasping his hand.

Sam covers his face with his hands and sinks to his 
knees.


At that moment, inside the Central Chamber
__________

"Mulder, listen."  Dana tightens her grip on Mulder's 
arm.  He freezes.  A high-pitched squeak shrills 
through the empty space around them.

"What the hell was that?" Mulder whispers.

Within moments the squeak is followed by a metallic 
slam.

"I can't believe it," Ben murmurs, "a door in a place 
like this."

Mulder snuffs the lantern.  "Against the wall," he 
whispers. Far away on the other side of the enormous 
room they hear quick, determined footsteps.  A weak 
fluorescent lantern flickers into view.

They press themselves back into the blackness, hoping 
it will hide them.

A young woman passes close enough to their hiding 
place that Dana can see her clearly.  She is tall, 
fair-skinned, dressed in jeans, a faded t-shirt, an 
old nylon jacket.  Her expression is bitter.  Dark 
energy surrounds her person.  As she sweeps past them 
Dana suppresses a gasp, filled with the urge to take 
another step back, even with a solid rock wall behind 
her.

The young woman marches off into the darkness, 
suspended in a circle of pale, blue-white light.  
Within a few moments they hear another door opening 
and closing.  Then silence and dark rule the chamber 
again.

"Oh my god," Dana murmurs.  "I know her."

"I know her, too" Mulder whispers. 

Dana takes a deep breath, dismayed, wiping tears from 
her face.  "I don't know how I know this, but I think 
her name is Katya.  How do I know that, Mulder?  God, 
how do I know that?"

End 5 of 9

Title - The Four Corners Cycle, Book Four:
Yekaterina's Kiss (6 of 9)
Author - Spookey247

Yekaterina slams the steel door as hard as she can, pausing for the
barest instant to fling her lantern to the floor nearby.  The soles of
her boots make
harsh slapping sounds on the stone as she follows the narrow hallway
toward the musty rooms where she has slept most nights for as long as
she can remember.

Papa's waiting for her there.  Just like always, with his clinging
fingers and his pinched, desperate expression, always begging for her
company, for her attention, for her body.  Begging for her love like a
dirty, starving dog.

She knows he would do anything to keep her near him.

She knows Birch wouldn't do anything without orders from the top.

There's no doubt the boy was telling the truth.  Wallace confirmed the
story, after she marched out of the kid's room and slammed him up
against the wall.  Birch made up the lie, Wallace said, while they
were on the trail from
Desert View.  He hadn't wanted Yekaterina to turn against him.  The
orders weren't his fault, Birch had said.  He wasn't going to take the
blame.

Wallace invented the part about that kid being Stephen's murderer.  He
said he made it up to piss her off.  Watching her rough that kid up
would be damned
entertaining.  He swore he didn't know she'd get mad enough to kill.

But she did.  She is.  She will be.

Yekaterina stops at the door to the quarters she shares with her
father, fingers wrapped around the handle, thumb poised on the latch.
Her body is trembling.  You've got to stay perfectly calm, she tells
herself.  If you don't
he'll take your rage and use it against you.

Before it's over, she's going to make him confess everything.

She forces herself to think about mundane, trivial things, like what
she'd like for dinner, or when her next shift in the lab is scheduled.
She imagines herself bathing the women in room three, runs a mental
washcloth over red-brown faces, swollen chests and bellies.  She
brushes dark hair, cleans crisp white teeth, sings lullabies to unborn
babies.

When her breathing slows, she bends, pulling a long scalpel out of her
boot and putting it in her jacket pocket.  She lets the door swing
open.

"Katya.  Where have you been?"  He sits in the armchair, twisting
painfully to look at her as she paces into the room.  "Baby, there's
good news.  We're almost
there.  The sample we needed is on the way."

"Really.  Who's bringing it?  Birch is already here."

"The sample is bringing itself."  He grasps the arms of the chair and
pulls himself to his feet.  His face looks bright, happier than she's
seen it in years.  "Come here, babe.  Give your daddy a kiss."

Yekaterina glides toward him.  She allows him to clutch at her waist.
She closes her eyes as his lips press against hers, trying hard not to
hear his soft moan, paying no attention to his useless, habitual mind.
She tries to
focus instead on the reassuring weight of the scalpel hidden in her
jacket, thinks about what part of his body she'd most enjoy cutting
first.

He runs his tongue along the inside of her front teeth, starts to push
her jacket off her shoulders.  He whispers into her mouth.  "It's been
days, Katya,baby.  Let's go to bed early."

Yekaterina feels like she's made of hot lead. She reaches into her
pocket.  The scalpel feels smooth and cold.  Keeping her voice even,
she manages a thin smile. "I'm sorry for the way I acted this
afternoon.  It was stupid
of me to be so upset."

He runs his bony fingers through her hair.  "I'm glad to hear you say
that.  I forgive you."

"I don't know what I was thinking.  Being so rude to you when you love
me so much."

He pecks at her lips again, hard, brittle kisses.  "I know that boy
was fun to fuck, but he wasn't right for you, babe.  He never could
have made you happy..."

She wraps her arm around his waist, forcing herself to flatten her
hand against his buttocks.  "You didn't mind me fucking him, though,
did you?  I know you don't want me to be lonely, Papa."

He moves his hands to her back and begins stroking weakly.  "No, of
course not."

He tries to cover her mouth with his own.  She pulls back, mocking him
softly.  "Listen, I've been thinking, I want to ask you something."

"All right."

"Now that Stephen's gone, I thought I might branch out, you know,
broaden my horizons."  She reaches for the bulge in the front of his
pants.  "You can share me, just a little, can't you?"

His hands brush over her back: up, then down again. "Of course I can,"
he breathes, his voice smooth and oily.  "All I want is for you to be
happy."

Up, and down.  Up, and down.

His face lights up. "That boy in the lab might be a fun lay.  I'll
give him to you, if you want."

"Actually, I was thinking I'd like to fuck Birch."

His hands quit moving.  Yekaterina smiles cruelly.  The lie slips
through her lips like a fish through water.  "He's already told me he
wants to."

His voice cracks.  "God, he's so ugly.  How could you stand to look at
him?"

"What difference does that make, Papa?  You're ugly, and I fuck you
all the time."

He pulls away from her, rapt expression fading to a blank stare.  His
black eyes glitter.

Yekaterina takes a step toward him.  Her voice rises.  "Hear me out
before you get offended.  I've been thinking and thinking, and my
logic is flawless.  If I only fuck really ugly men I won't fall in
love with anyone.  Wouldn't
that make you happy, Papa?"

He doesn't answer.  His lip curls.

"That way I won't have anything outside of what you choose for me.  I
won't have any life at all.  That's what you want, isn't it?"

"I only want what's best for you," he whispers.

"Really." She pulls his bony form tightly against her own, thrusting
against his now-flaccid organ, rotating her pubis on the soft, pliant
flesh.  "Is *this* good for me?"

She pumps against him roughly, letting him feel the full force of her
superior strength.  "Do you think this is what I need?"

His eyes are wounded, wary.  "Katya..."

She wraps her hands around his ass and grinds herself against him.
"Is it?  Or is it just good for *you*?"

"Katya, stop it.  Stop it right now."

He tries to pull away, but she just holds onto him more tightly.
"It'll be good for Birch, won't it?"

"What?"

"Fucking me will make him live forever, won't it, Papa?"

"I don't know what you mean..."

She reaches up with her right hand and wraps her fingers around his
neck.  "What if I decide to fuck Birch instead of you?  Would he
become the director of the Project, then?  Whoever fucks Katya and
lives forever gets to control the bodies of the women in the lab,
right?"

"Katya, it's not..."

She shoves him back into the armchair, hand locked around his throat.
She plants a knee in his solar plexus and leans close to his face.
"You might as
well tell me the truth because I know it already.  You fuck me to keep
from dying.  You had Stephen killed to keep me with you."

"Katya," he chokes. "Katya, baby."

His eyes bug out.  His face glows with arousal.

She could kill him right now but then she'd have to remember that
expression forever.

She whips the scalpel from her pocket and puts it to his throat.
"Explain it to me, Papa.  What makes me so special? "

"That's not something you want to know."

She moves the scalpel lower.  She presses it against his balls.
"You'd better start talking, old man."

The pain makes him grimace. She squeezes his throat.  "You can start
with how I'm able to heal you."

"It was an accidental discovery.  I don't understand it myself."

The scalpel digs deeper.  "Tell me about my mother."

He gasps.  "It's like I've told you.  She died when you were a baby."

"Was she special, like me?  Could she see into people's minds?"

"Katya, I can't breathe.  You're choking me, baby."

"Papa, what did you do with Dana?"  Yekaterina's voice rises out of
control.  "Where did you take her?"

His face is turning bright red.
"I...didn't...know...she...was...gone...."

"God, you're disgusting.  Why can't you quit lying?"  Yekaterina
tightens her grip on his throat, watching his face fade from pink to
white.  She can't stop herself from choking him.  She doesn't even
want to.

She wonders if she can live without knowing the truth.

~~~~

"No lock.  I can't believe it."

"Maybe they're expecting us."

The steel door emits a high-pitched squeak as it opens.  Dim light
floods over them as they slip cautiously into the hallway.  Mulder
eases the door shut behind them.

"Where, now?"  Dana whispers.  Her heart is racing like a jet engine.

Mulder starts down the hall, walking slowly, quietly.  The ancient,
carved stone is lined with steel doors.  The doors are inscribed with
numbers.  "I bet the people who built this place never meant it to be
used like this," Mulder
mutters.  Suddenly, he stops.

"What?" Ben asks.

"Listen."

A little further down the hall they can hear muffled voices, arguing.
They follow the noise until they arrive at a door that amplifies the
heated words that fly behind it.  Mulder puts his ear to the door.

"I know her voice..." he murmurs.  "God, who is she?  Shit, they're
coming."  He cautiously tries the next door in the row.  It is
unlocked, leading to a darkened room.  They slip inside, leaving the
door slightly ajar, as
two figures burst into the hallway: the young woman and a man with
steel-gray hair, who stands with his back to them.

"Katya, you've got to understand.  I'm trying to protect you."

Dana leans toward the doorway.  Mulder moves aside so they can peer
through the crack together.

"Protect me?  God, you're such a liar."

"Please, come back inside.  I need you, babe."

She gives a sharp, painful laugh, rolling her eyes toward the ceiling.
"You're fucking unbelievable." She takes a step closer and stabs at
the man's chest with
her finger.  "Let me clear something up, Papa.  We're through,
understand?  There'll be nothing more between us until you come clean.
And by that I mean I want the truth, not your usual bullshit."

"Katya, there are some truths that need to stay buried."

Her eyes burn.  She reaches out and lays her hand on his cheek.
"You're going to die very slowly without me, Alex, and I'm going to
enjoy every minute of it."

She spins on her heel and stalks away.   The man shouts after her.
"You hate Birch.  You won't go to him.  I know you, Yekaterina."  As
he rubs his throat and turns to reach for the door handle, the man's
face whirls into view.

Dana suppresses a gasp.  "Oh my god, it's really him."

"I told you he was still alive," Mulder whispers grimly.

Before Dana knows what's happening, Mulder has readied his rifle and
is pushing the door of their hiding place open.  Alex Krycek freezes
when he feels the gun
against the side of his head.

"Keep facing the door," Mulder orders.  "Put your hands where I can
see them."

Krycek lifts his hands slowly into the air.

"Take two steps back."

Krycek complies.  Mulder swings around him, moving the barrel of the
rifle so that it points at the back of his head.  "Nice to see you
again, Krycek," he
says, smoothly.  "How about taking me to my son?"

"Mulder.  Good to see you, old friend.  Why are you so angry?"  Krycek
twists a little, turning Mulder's way.

"Face the door."

"Why?  Let me look at you.  I've heard you're aging gracefully."

"You heard me.  Do it."

"I knew you were coming.  Is Scully with you?"

"We're going for a walk, now, Krycek, to wherever it is you're keeping
my son."

"Your son?  What makes you think I've got your son?"

"I don't have time for this," Mulder mutters, jamming the barrel of
the rifle forcefully against Krycek's back.  "I'm assuming you're not
any more interested in dying than you were thirty-five years ago."

Krycek sighs. "We're going to need a light.  There's one in my room,
if you'll let me get it.  Or we could all go in and sit down for a few
minutes.  There are lots of things to talk about.  It could be very
interesting."

The shadow of a smile drifts over Mulder's features.  "Glad to see you
still have a sense of humor.  Somebody go in there and find a better
light..."

"Back in a sec," Ben says, pushing past Krycek and disappearing into
his room.

"Is that Ben?  *Maia's* Ben?"  Krycek's voice takes on a mocking
lightness.  "Well this *is* a trip down memory lane."

Mulder's body tightens noticeably.  He shakes his head slowly.  "No,"
he whispers.  "No.  I'm not taking the bait, asshole.  Forget it."

"Here, this should help," Ben says, coming back through the door with
a powerful battery-operated flashlight in his hand.

"Let's go, Krycek."

They follow the hallway back to the central chamber.  Krycek leads the
way, urged on by Mulder's rifle.  Ben walks near them, holding the
light.  The intensity of the flashlight makes the enormous room much
easier to
see.  It appears to be circular, and the path on which they're walking
seems to be some kind of ledge. Dana can make out an elaborately
carved and decorated
wall to their left.  To their right looms the silhouette of a huge
statue, sitting on a massive pedestal, which appears to rise out of
the middle of some kind of pit.

"It's amazing you managed to come through this room in the dark
without falling to your deaths," Krycek says, sounding a bit like a
tour guide.  "There's an open crypt in the center of the room.  The
drop is about fifty feet."

Mulder doesn't answer.  He shoves Krycek forward with his gun.  Krycek
raises his hands higher and keeps walking.

"Ben!" he says, "Maia's friend.  You probably don't remember me."

Ben's brow creases in confusion.

"We met, briefly, about sixteen years ago.  Perhaps you remember a
night that you gave your friend, Maia, a ride to Riverbend.  I was
standing in the driveway with Solomon when you came to pick her up at
the end of the evening."

Mulder's jaw works.  He digs his gun into Krycek's back.  "You are so
full of shit," he hisses.  "You can shut up now."

Dana turns toward Ben.  His eyes are perfectly round.

Krycek slows his pace.  "How's the little girl, Mulder?  What did you
name her...um, Kaya, was it?"

Mulder's face goes dead.  "Okay, stop right there."  Krycek stops.
"Face forward, you bastard.  I know what you're trying to do.  It's
not going to work."

"We've been keeping an eye on her, you know.  Ever since the day she
was born.  We haven't actually examined her since she was very small,
but then,
there wasn't any reason to."

"What the hell are you talking about, Krycek?"  Mulder levels the gun,
the tremor in his voice almost imperceptible.

"It was originally Parenti's idea.  He had stored the fertilized eggs
very carefully.  Fields and I were skeptical, I mean, they were
Scully's eggs, and she hadn't been able to become pregnant with them.
Imagine our
surprise when the IVF with the surrogate turned out to be a success."

"The surrogate?" Dana takes a few steps forward.  Suddenly she feels
an overwhelming need to look Alex Krycek in the face.

"Scully.  You *are* here.  Welcome back."

Mulder's lip twitches.  His eyes grow dark.

Krycek continues: "The experiment was a total disappointment.  Nine
months of trouble and expense, and, of course, the birth was
successful, but the
child, what a shame.  She turned out to be perfectly normal.  We were
praying she would be something special, like her sister."

"Oh my god..." Dana's heart races.  She leans against the wall.

Mulder tightens his grip on his rifle.  "Scully, take it easy.
Krycek, I don't know what kind of sick lie you're cooking up..."

"Oh, it's no lie, Mulder.  Not at all.  You should have kept a lower
profile, you know.  Our intelligence about that alien lab was weak -
we were never able
to find it, then we heard it had been abandoned.  We had given up hope
of finding you, but then you...god, you're such a fucking
overachiever.  It's disgusting.  You raised a woman from the dead,
remember that?  When
Solomon's daughter got interested in your work and became your
disciple, she tipped her father about your exact location.  That was
about sixteen years ago,
wasn't it?  It was so incredibly lucky.  There you were, like a
sitting duck, married to that Native woman, and she had borne two of
your children already...we
were amazed.  Your wife was really something special, brother.  We
learned so much from studying her genetic profile.  She was beautiful.
Just beautiful.  It was
a shame how she died."

Mulder is nonplused.  "Give me one good reason why I should believe
any of this."

"Simply because you know it's true.  You never believed Kaya was
yours.  At least that's what Maia told us, when she brought her to be
examined.  Now you can be happy, brother," he croons, softly.  "Kaya
is your daughter,
after all.  She's Scully's daughter, too."

Dana's chest rises and falls, faster and faster.  She doesn't want to
think about what Krycek is saying.  She can barely process the words,
much less their
meaning.  She lifts herself away from the wall, trying to concentrate,
to keep a clear head. "You're lying," she tells him, voice rising.
"That's completely impossible."

Krycek stands perfectly still.  "Is it?  Did you analyze the
fertilized eggs that Parenti's office returned to you?  Were all of
them, in fact, yours?"

Dana struggles to breathe.

Mulder casts a glance over his shoulder.  "Scully, don't listen to
him.  He's doing this to you on purpose."

It's all a game, Dana thinks.  "Shut up, Krycek," she snaps weakly.

"You need proof what I'm saying is true?  Ask your friend there,
Mulder.  Ask Ben.  He brought Maia to Riverbend, the first time she
helped us."

Mulder's body crumples slightly, as if an invisible fist has just
tapped him in the gut.  "Ben?"

Ben's face is terrible, pale and hollow in the bright yellow light.
He draws one short, painful breath and barks, "He's lying, Will."

Krycek lowers his hands.  His voice remains calm.  "I'm being rude,
though, Scully, aren't I?  You came all this way and I haven't told
you about your first-born daughter."

Dana can't help herself.  She moves toward him, swiftly.  "Where is
she?  Is she here?"

Mulder lunges forward.  "Scully, get back."

Krycek's voice rises cruelly.  "Make him take that gun out of my back
and we'll talk about it, Dana."

"Tell me where she is," Dana pleads.

"Get behind me, Scully..." Mulder warns, trying to block her path.

Krycek spins toward them, grinning wildly.  "Your daughter's amazing
in bed, Dana. I've enjoyed her *so much*."

Dana charges toward him, roaring like a wounded animal.

Mulder lunges.  "Scully, no!"

Krycek grabs the gun, twisting hard.  Mulder loses his balance as Dana
flings herself on Krycek.  All three bodies fall to the floor.

Krycek struggles to pull the rifle free.

"Get her, Ben!" Mulder shouts.

Ben throws the flashlight down and pulls Dana free of the fight.  As
soon as she is clear, Mulder rolls, pinning Krycek, pressing his
heaving body to the floor
with every ounce of his strength.  Krycek clings to the rifle.  Mulder
fights to keep him from raising it.

"Ben, help me get hold of him, he's stronger than he looks."

Dana runs for the flashlight, tears streaming down her face.

Ben takes hold of one of Krycek's arms, smashing it against the stone
below.  The rifle clatters to the floor.

"You're mine now, Mulder," Krycek wails.  "This round is mine..."

His fingers latch on to a loose stone from the floor.  Dana screams a
warning.  The stone slams against Mulder's head.  Dazed, Mulder slumps
to one side.
Krycek reaches up swiftly, seizing Ben by the shirt, pulling him
headlong onto the floor.  Within moments he extricates himself from
the tangle of bodies,
snaring the rifle and clutching it like a trophy.  His face twisted in
rage, he aims at Dana, swinging wildly towards Ben when he struggles
up from the floor.

Mulder remains slumped over on his knees, stirring almost
imperceptibly.

Dana takes several steps toward Krycek, who backs away from them,
toward the shadowy rim of the crypt.  His voice is shrill.  "Anybody
who moves, dies.  You
people are nothing to me."

Dana tries to soothe him, desperately.  "Krycek, put down the gun.
All we want is Mulder's son.  We'll leave, okay?"

"You must think I've gone completely senile," Krycek snaps.  "Think
I'm letting any of you leave here?"

Mulder lifts himself silently off the floor, blood streaming down his
face.

Krycek continues, red-faced, brandishing the rifle.  "God, Scully, you
have no idea how many times I've fantasized about killing you. Your
fucking
womb's no good and you caused so much trouble in the lab...damn, if
Katya hadn't liked to
brush that stinking red hair of yours so much I would have dumped your
body in the river years ago..."

Mulder launches himself at Krycek.  Ben lunges toward Dana, grabbing
her by the waist and throwing her to the floor as the rifle goes off.
The flashlight crashes to the ground, plunging the room into
blackness.  The shot
echoes through the massive space.  Debris from the ceiling showers
onto their heads.

"Mulder!"  Ben lifts himself away and Dana rolls over, crawling around
and feeling for the flashlight in the dark.  "Ben!"

"I'm right here.  Where did they go?"

"Mulder!"

"Will!  Are you all right?  Answer me, man!"

"God, Ben, where did they go?"  Dana finds Ben in the darkness and
latches on to his arm.

"Oh my god, Dana...I think...oh my god."

"Ben, do you think they..."

"Shit.  Oh, shit."

A door bangs open on the near side of the room.  A powerful light
pours into the chamber, illuminating a squat figure, framed in the
door.  Half-dressed and
shoeless, Gary Birch points his gun at them.  Another man stands
behind him, aiming an electric light in their direction.

"Whoever you are, don't move or I'll shoot," Birch calls.  "Identify
yourselves right now."

End 6 of 9

Title - The Four Corners Cycle, Book Four: 
Yekaterina's Kiss (7 of 9)
Author - Spookey247 

Yekaterina leans against the wall in the medical bay, 
staring up at the ceiling.  She's been standing this 
way for several minutes, fists balled against the 
wall behind her back, right knee slowly bending, then 
straightening again, over and over like a cog in a 
machine.  She's prowling the corridors inside her 
soul, looking in vain for an empty place to dump her 
latest load of rage. 

She was fifteen the first time she noticed him 
staring.  She had just come back from bathing in the 
depths of the cave, and was sitting on the sofa, 
combing the tangles out of her hair.  Sneaking a look 
at her father through the soaking wet locks that hung 
in her face, she'd caught him gazing over his book at 
her.  There was a look on his face that she'd never 
seen before: surprise, mixed with reverence, mixed 
with hatred, mixed with awe.  It was a shocking 
expression, and she'd tried to pretend she didn't 
notice, continuing to comb her hair and humming to 
herself like nothing whatever was amiss.

That was not the last time she would see that look.

The staring went on for six months or so, gradually 
giving way to more disturbing behavior.  He touched 
her every chance he got, found excuses to be in the 
room when she was dressing...

Yekaterina shudders, waiting silently for the lump in 
her throat to melt.

She slams the palm of her hand against the wall in 
frustration.  Why didn't I kill him, she thinks, what 
the hell is wrong with me?

If she could only see Dana, everything would be all 
right.

Smooth, red hair, softer than a spider's web.  Dana's 
hair had been like nothing Yekaterina had ever seen.  
She would spend hours brushing that hair, holding 
Dana's hand and singing to her...nothing more 
beautiful, she always thought.  

Nothing more beautiful.

Every time they woke Dana up she flipped out and gave 
them holy hell.  Yekaterina always admired Dana's 
spirit.  She would brush her own fiery tresses and 
dream of being just like her. 

Sometimes, when she was young, she used to fantasize 
that...

Oh, whatever.

She shakes her head.  It's been a long time since 
she's been that naive.

Parenti and Fields are in the lab.  A few minutes ago 
Yekaterina stormed in and demanded that they tell her 
what happened to Dana.  The two doctors traded a 
stiff, panicked look and muttered senseless, 
transparent things.  You'll have to ask your father, 
they said lamely, scratching their hairless heads and 
clearing their throats.

That told her all she needed to know.

For her father and his colleagues, hoarding knowledge 
has become a reflex.  They've got no more compassion 
than a bunch of reptiles.

There's really no point in sticking around, she 
thinks.  They'll never help me understand anything.  
Not what I am or where I came from.  Certainly not 
what we're trying to accomplish here. 

She rolls her head to one side and stares intensely 
at Wallace, who sits on a folding chair nearby, 
rolling himself another cigarette.  "That's not good 
for you, you know," she announces.  "I read that."

"Whatever.  What are you doing back here, anyway?"

"I need to see him again."

"Why?"

"I don't have to tell you that."  Yekaterina pushes 
herself off the wall and heads for the door Wallace 
is guarding.

Wallace sighs.  "Whatever.  Hey, no funny stuff.  
You're gonna get me killed."

Yekaterina stops, her hand on the door.  "Yeah.  No 
funny stuff, I promise."

The kid is sitting up in the bed.  He looks about a 
hundred times better than he looked half an hour ago.  
The color drains out of his face as she approaches.  
His breathing quickens, and he glances furtively 
around the bed.   Probably trying to get his hands on 
some kind of heavy object, Yekaterina thinks wryly.

The kid has a good reason to be scared of her.  It's 
going to get worse for him before it gets better.

She marches up to the bed and seizes him by the head, 
staring into his eyes.  "What's your name?"

He pulls away defiantly.  "What's *your* name?" he 
asks, his voice low and hostile.

"My name is Katya.  How are you feeling?"

His eyebrows shoot toward his hairline.  "Huh?"

"Now you have to tell me your name."

"Oh.  Dru.  It's Dru."

"Where do you come from?"

"What?"

"Where do you live?"

"Tuba City."

"How far from here is that?"

He looks confused and annoyed.  "How the hell should 
I know?  Where are we?"

"I don't really know.  A canyon."

"A huge fucking canyon, right?"

"I guess.  How far is the place that you live from 
Desert View?"

"That's easier.  About ninety miles..."

"Is that a long way?"

"What?  What kind of question is that?  It's a long 
way to walk, but not so long if you've got a car."

"Can we get there from here?"

"Well, shit..." He runs his hands through his tousled 
hair.  "Damn, lady, are you always this weird?"

"Look, Dru.  If you stay here things are going to get 
very bad for you very fast."

"Well, that's a shame.  They're so fun now."

"So I'm taking you out of here but I need to know 
where we're going."

He shifts painfully in the bed.  "Look, I'd love to.  
But I don't know if I can walk."

"Be still."  Yekaterina reaches up and cups her hands 
behind his head.

He resists.  "What are you doing?"

"Just be still," she commands, pulling his head 
toward hers.

Their lips meet.  Yekaterina has never done this 
intentionally, never touched anyone specifically for 
the purpose of healing.  Although she's frequently 
suspected that she had this ability, no one has ever 
explained it or instructed her in its use.  She's not 
at all sure how it works.  She tries to relax and 
focus on his injury, tries to channel the energy that 
surges through her body, tries to pour herself into 
him.

Dru moans, his hands lifting weakly, pushing her 
away.  She reaches down and pins them to his sides. 
"I know it hurts," she whispers, "but the pain is 
good.  It helps you."  Whimpering, he surrenders.  
His mind races like a bird in flight.  God, she 
thinks, it's beautiful, he's so incredibly alive. 

She'd like to stop and enjoy him further but there 
isn't time right now.  

She pulls away, leaving him gasping, and lowers the 
guard rail on the bed with a bang.  She spins on her 
heel, searching the room and finding a pair of jeans 
folded inside a cabinet.  "These yours?" she asks, 
throwing them at him.

"Yeah, I think..."

"How about these boots?"

"Yeah, those are mine."

"Get up and get dressed."

"Um, whatever your name is, I don't think..."

"Just do it.  You can do it."

Suddenly they hear a strange, muffled sound.  Like a 
small explosion somewhere just beyond the wall.

"What was that?" Dru asks.  Looking amazed, he swings 
his legs over the side of the bed.  "Shit, what the 
hell did you do to me?"

"I think that was a gunshot.  Stay here, I'll be 
right back."

She runs into the hallway.  Wallace is standing by 
the intercom.

"Hey, what's going on?  What was that?"

"I don't know.  Birch didn't say.  He just said meet 
him in the crypt.  I have to go.  Listen, Yekaterina, 
I want a live kid when I get back here."

"Yeah, yeah, right.  I'm done in there, anyway."

She watches Wallace stalk off down the hall.  As he 
moves out of view, she takes a few steps backward, 
turning very quickly to return to Dru's room.

She gasps.  A unfamiliar old man is blocking her 
path. 

His hair and beard are snow white.  He's dressed in 
very strange clothes.  His eyes are frightening: 
desperate and intensely sad.  "Oh my god," she says, 
"Who are you?"

He doesn't answer.  He just starts walking.  She 
follows him down the hallway.

"What are you doing here?" she calls.  "Who are you?"

He rounds a curve in the passage.  By the time she 
reaches the bend in the hallway, he has disappeared.  
Heart in her mouth, Yekaterina stops, opening doors 
and calling for him.  The exit to the central chamber 
lies nearby, just a few doors down.  She knows she 
didn't hear it open or close, but she checks it 
anyway, on the off chance he may have gone out into 
the darkness.

When the door creaks open she hears angry, unfamiliar 
voices echoing off the ancient walls of the central 
chamber.  Pulling a small flashlight from her pocket, 
she slips through the door.

They're down in the crypt. 

Once, long ago, this room was a temple and burial 
chamber for the people who built this place.  The god 
of the underworld sits on a pedestal, looming up out 
of a circular pit that is lined with empty 
sarcophagi.  Yekaterina's never seen its face, which 
perches in the dark, somewhere near the ceiling, but 
she's always been struck by the fact that the hands 
folded in its massive stone lap seem to have animal 
claws. 

Holding her flashlight in her teeth, Yekaterina drops 
to her knees, then flattens herself on her belly and 
crawls across the floor to the edge of the pit.  
Switching her light off, she peers over the side.

Wallace is holding one of the big, strong lights that 
Birch only uses for unloading supplies.  There are 
two forms lying prone on the floor of the crypt.  The 
smell of blood rises on the damp, stony breeze.  
Birch and Jonah are pointing rifles at two people.  
All she can tell from looking at their backs is that 
one is a man and one is a woman.  

Birch levels his rifle.  "I said, don't move!"

The woman struggles in the arms of her companion, 
trying to get to one of the people on the floor.  
"Goddammit," she shouts.  "He's dying, he needs help.  
If you won't let me take care of him, please get 
someone else.  I know there are doctors here.  Why 
don't you call them?"

"Jonah," Birch commands, slowly, thoughtfully, "check 
the boss.  Is he alive?" His voice is strange, 
strangled and high-pitched.  He doesn't sound like 
himself at all.

Yekaterina stifles a moan.  

Yes.  Check the boss, Jonah.

She closes her eyes.  It's too much to hope for.

Jonah lowers his gun.  Arranging his feet carefully 
to avoid soiling his boots in the pool of blood on 
the floor, he squats by what she now recognizes as 
her father's body, rolling it over.  "He's dead, Mr. 
Birch," he says.

Yekaterina has to bite her hand to keep from crying 
out.

The woman breaks free from her companion and runs 
toward the other body, which lies several feet away, 
very close to where Birch is standing.  Her hair 
flashes red-gold in the bright, white light.

Oh my god.

Dana.

Yekaterina instantly starts crawling.  She wriggles 
on her belly in the darkness toward the top of one of 
the ancient stone stairways that leads down into the 
crypt.  Her heart is thumping so hard and so fast she 
fears that it might wear out.  

It's a miracle like nothing she's ever seen.  Dana is 
walking.  Dana is talking.  

Dana is alive.

Yekaterina's going to make sure that she stays that 
way.

Dana bends over the man's body as Yekaterina slowly 
descends on the stairway, just far enough to hear 
what they're saying.  "His skull is fractured.  He's 
bleeding internally.  But he's still alive, please 
get someone..."

Jonah speaks softly, awed.  "Jesus, Mr. Birch, is 
that..."

"Yeah."  Birch's voice sounds pinched.  "Take a good 
look, Jonah.  That's who the boss was waiting for.  
He's the Original."

Jonah's voice fills with horror.  "But...god, don't 
you think we should get Parenti?  Someone's got to 
save him."

"Get someone," Dana pleads.  "Get Parenti.  Please."

"I don't know..." Birch muses, keeping his gun 
trained at her head.  "What would you do, Miss 
Scully, if you were me?  I've worked for these people 
for a very long time.  They've been in this operation 
for over thirty years and they're not any closer to 
success than when they started.  There's been so much 
mismanagement.  As things stand, they have no chance 
of winning."

"Winning what?" Dana whispers.

He lowers his gun.  His voice is ice cold.  "The 
planet, Miss Scully.  The planet.  I don't know if 
you were aware of it, but, as a species, Homo Sapiens 
has arrived at the end of a long and dubiously 
successful run.  Now that the old model's out of 
date, the race is on.  Whoever comes up with the most 
efficient design gets to go home with all the 
marbles."

"I don't see what that has to do with him."

Birch stands quietly, thinking hard.  "Jonah."

"Yes, sir?"

"Get Parenti.  Let's see if we can save him."

Yekaterina eases herself back up the stairway as 
Jonah orders Wallace to find Parenti.  She tries not 
to think about the blood that stains the floor of the 
crypt, choosing, instead, to rejoice in the knowledge 
that Dana is alive and aware.  All she wants now is 
to talk with her, to thank her for all she's done. 

Her mind buzzes with Gary Birch's unexpected words.  
If I play my cards right, I can have everything I 
ever wanted, she marvels.  Birch has the answers and 
he's willing to talk.

But none of it will be any good until she knows that 
Dana is safe.

She crouches in the darkness and feels her way toward 
the wall.  Cupping her flashlight in her hand to dim 
the bulb, she switches it on.  She's sure she only 
has a few minutes. Birch will be busy.  She has to 
get to Dana. She can take her into the catacombs 
under the compound and hide her there until they 
figure out what to do.

Yekaterina hears a rustling sound.  Someone is coming 
through the portal.

She hits the switch on her flashlight and flattens 
herself against the wall, sidling toward the small, 
square opening that glows more intensely with each 
passing moment.  She waits in the shadows, holding 
her breath, as a hand pushes a lantern through the 
hole.  It is followed by an arm, then a head, then a 
body.  A tall, handsome young man lifts himself to 
his feet, straightening and pulling a rifle out of 
the portal behind him.

Yekaterina pounces, kicking his lantern over, 
grabbing his rifle with one hand and wrapping her 
other arm around his neck, slapping her hand over his 
mouth to muffle his cry.  She drags him down the wall 
to a place a good distance from his point of entry, 
pushing him against the hard stone with her left arm, 
pinning him in place with every ounce of her 
strength.

She flips her flashlight on and shines it in his 
face.  His family tree is unmistakable.

"You look just like your brother," she mutters.  
"You're in danger.  You have to be quiet."

~~~~

They wait quietly by the wall while Jonah carries out 
Birch's instructions.  Every few moments the young 
man starts to speak and every few moments Yekaterina 
silences him.  When the heavy steel door of the 
medical bay has clanged shut, leaving them in 
darkness, Yekaterina flicks on her flashlight and 
shines it toward him.

"Now," she whispers.  "If you want your brother to 
live you have to do exactly what I tell you."

"What was all that about, down there?" he whispers 
back.  "I couldn't hear, it was too far away."

"The shit's hitting the fan.  That's what it was 
about."

"Who was that man they carried up the stairs?"

"I don't know.  There's no time to talk about it now.  
Stick close to me...the stairs are really dangerous."

She leads him down the steep, narrow stairway, 
placing her feet carefully in the dim gold light.  
They cross the floor of the crypt, arriving within 
moments at the foot of the pedestal that fills the 
center of the pit.  Circling toward the back of the 
stone cylinder, Yekaterina pushes open a carved 
wooden door.  They step into a murky vestibule.

"What the hell is this?" the young man gasps.

He stares in astonishment at the winding stairway 
that leads up to the heavens and into the earth 
below.

"It's the Axis Mundi, buddy," Yekaterina answers, 
grimly.  "It's the way out of here.  Let's get your 
brother."

The small flashlight is dimmer than what Yekaterina 
usually takes with her into the catacombs, but she 
knows the stairway and the passages below it so well 
she could walk them in her sleep.  She grabs the 
young man by the hand and pulls him after her, 
winding lower and lower into the bowels of the earth.

~~~~

Dana walks behind Ben, down the dreary hallway toward 
whatever fate Birch has ordered for them.  She feels 
bloodless and transparent; her soul consumed by rage.

The large, loutish man who accompanies them nudges 
her with his pistol.  "Stop here."  He takes a key 
from his pocket and unlocks one of the steel doors.  
"In here, both of you," he commands.

Ben steps inside the darkened room, turning back to 
face her as she follows him inside.  His features are 
rigid.  The door clicks shut behind them, leaving 
them in blackness.

Dana fights to keep her sanity.  "They shouldn't have 
moved him," she mutters.  "He shouldn't have been 
moved."

"Dana..." Ben's voice is tender, cautious.

"You don't move a person with a head injury like 
that," she cries.  "The risk of trauma to the brain 
is too great..."

"Dana, you heard what the doctor said..."

"No.  Parenti is a fraud.  I don't believe him." Dana 
paces, breathing hard, making a tight little circle 
in the dark.  "I've got to find a way to get back to 
the lab.  I can save him, Ben.  I can save him."

He finds her, grasps her hand.  "Dana, please, this 
isn't good for you.  He wouldn't want you to do 
this..."

"What do you know about what he would want?" Dana 
rips her hand away from his.

Ben falls silent.

Dana crouches on the floor, burying her head in her 
hands and trying to concentrate.  There's got to be a 
way out of here, she thinks.  There's got to be a way 
to get to him.

~~~~

Yekaterina kicks the grate off her usual ventilation 
shaft and climbs out into the hallway.  She turns to 
her companion. "No one's around.  Hurry."

When he emerges, she replaces the grate and they run 
down the deserted hallway.  They find Dru waiting, 
fully dressed in his jeans and the blood-spattered 
shirt he was wearing when Birch brought him in.

"Holy shit, Sam."  Dru falls into his brother's arms.  
"How the *fuck* did you get here, man..."

"God, Dru, I'm not really sure.  Will came here after 
you, with Dana and Ben, and I followed them, but um," 
he turns and casts a cautious glance at Yekaterina, 
"...I ran into her first."

"Dana?"  Yekaterina's brain works frantically.  "Your 
father came here with Dana and another guy?"

Sam nods, looking bewildered.

"Your father.  Shit.  He's your father."  Yekaterina 
takes a few steps toward the door.  "Shit."

"Who?"

"What do you mean?"

"Boys, I hate to tell you this..."

"What?"

She starts for the hallway.  "Things just got a whole 
lot more complicated.  Both of you wait here.  I have 
to see what's going on."

~~~~

"Yekaterina!"

"Wallace.  Shit, what's the matter, man?  What's 
going on?"

"Aw, shit, Katya, everything's going to hell.  When 
Birch called me...damn, I don't know how to tell you 
this...it's your father."

"I know, man, I know.  I was out there.  I saw."

"Shit.  Listen.  Birch has lost his fucking mind.  He 
sent me to lock those people up, and when I came 
back...aw, shit."

"What?"

"You're not going to believe it.  That guy...the one 
he calls the Original, well, I think he must have 
died, and Birch...shit.  Motherfucking shit."

"Calm down, man.  Just tell me what happened."

"Parenti and Fields...bullet through the head.  
They're both lying on the floor in the lab."

"Holy shit."

"Yeah.  It gets worse.  Jonah met me in the hall and 
told me to find you.  We're leaving.  Birch told him 
to cut the generator and rig the place to blow."

"Holy shit, Wallace, what about the mothers?"

"I don't know.  Katya, you gotta come with me, we 
only have a few minutes."

"Where's Birch?"

"In records, Jonah said, getting stuff he needs."

"Listen, Wallace, you have to help me."

"Did you hear me?  This place is going to blow, we 
have to leave now."

"Where are those people?  What room did you put them 
in?"

"There's no time.  Birch wants them dead."

"No.  No, we've got to help them get out.  I'll take 
them.  Which room?"

"Dammit, Katya."

"Wallace, now."

"He's gonna cut my throat!"

"I'll take the blame!"

"Katya, your father can't protect you anymore."

"Birch needs me.  Come on, Wallace."

"Room four, okay?"

"I'll meet you...where?"

"The crypt, Jonah said.  In fifteen minutes...hell, 
no, ten, now."

"Ah, shit.  The lights."

"Power's cut.  Shit. SHIT. Hurry up!"


End 7 of 9

Title - The Four Corners Cycle, Book Four: 
Yekaterina's Kiss (8 of 9)
Author - Spookey247 


Dana feels her way to the door, trying the lock.  She 
knows it is a pointless, futile thing to do.  Over 
the last several minutes she has felt her way through 
the room, searching for a light, searching the walls 
for additional doors, ventilation shafts, anything 
that might give her a way out, and has come up empty.  

She slams her hand against the door.  "Birch!" she 
screams, for what seems like the hundredth time. 
"Birch, I want to talk!"

She slumps against the door, tears of grief and 
frustration rolling down her face.  Ben has remained 
silent and still during her efforts.  She can hear 
his slow, labored breathing, near the wall, close by.  

"Ben..."

There's a hitch in his voice, the sound of tears.  
"Yeah."

"Was Krycek lying?"

He doesn't answer.

"He wasn't lying, was he?"

Still no answer.

"How could you do that to Mulder, Ben?" she whispers.  
"Couldn't you have told him what happened?  It might 
have saved Maia's life."

He draws his breath in, sharply.  "You think I don't 
know that?" he rasps.

"He suffered for years because of what she did.  I 
can't believe..."

"*He* suffered?" Ben's voice has become a moan.

"Everyone suffered."  She listens to him crying in 
the darkness.  "Why did she do it, Ben?"  

"They threatened the boys.  They threatened Will. She 
did it to protect them and she made me promise not to 
tell.  I didn't know about the other trips to 
Riverbend, Dana.  But after the twins were born, when 
I saw the way she died, it wasn't too hard to figure 
it out."

"And you could have told him about it, Ben.  Why 
didn't you tell him?"

"You'd have to know Maia to understand," he cries.  
"When she asked for a promise, she wasn't just saying 
it.  It was really important to her, that's the way 
she was.  God," he sobs, "I loved her.  I *honored* 
her.  She didn't want him to know, Dana.  I promised 
I wouldn't tell."

A key turns in the lock and the door swings open. A 
flashlight beam hits them as they scramble to their 
feet.

"Dana?" A woman's voice streaks toward them in the 
darkness.  They can just make out her silhouette, 
standing behind the light.

"Who are you?" Dana asks.

"If you want to keep living you have to come with me, 
now."

They follow her into the hallway and are astounded to 
find Dru and Sam waiting for them there.

"Oh my god," Dana gasps.  "Dru, are you all right?  
Sam, where did you come from?"

Sam looks bewildered.  "Where's Will?" he asks.

Dana and Ben exchange an anguished glance.

"You're going to have to chat later," the young woman 
whispers fiercely. "This place is going up in smoke 
in about five minutes."

The light catches her face.  Dana stares in wonder at 
her shining red hair.

The night keeps all her light inside.  She wonders at 
the stars...

"What's your name?" Dana whispers, reaching towards 
her.

An explosion rocks the floor under their feet.

"Follow me," the young woman hisses.  "We have to get 
to the crypt."

"Ben, where's Will?" Sam asks, as they run down the 
hall.

"Katya, where's my father?" Dru shouts.

They are nearing the door to the central chamber.  
Katya stops.  She turns toward him.  "He's dead, 
kid."

Sam pales. "No," he whispers.

"Look, I'm sorry, it's true."

Another explosion shakes the passage.

Dana and Ben exchange another desperate glance.  
"Sam, she's telling the truth," Dana says.

Sam's mouth hardens into a tight white line.

Dru stares at the floor.  "Where's his body?" he asks 
harshly.

"What?"

"Where's his body?" Sam repeats his brother's words.  
"We're not leaving without it."

"There's no time."

Dana touches Katya's arm.  "Please."

Their eyes lock in the pale light.  Blue into blue.  
"Check that room there," Katya whispers.  "That's the 
lab."

Sam hands his rifle to Ben.  He takes the flashlight 
and runs into the lab, emerging, moments later, with 
Mulder's body slung over his shoulder.

Dana's knees go weak at the sight.  She slumps 
against Ben, insensible.  "Dana, please," he begs.  
"We have to go."

Forcing her legs to carry her body, she follows Sam 
toward the entrance to the burial chamber.  She 
wishes she were strong enough to carry Mulder 
herself. 

They descend the stairs that lead to the crypt.  An 
explosion nearly knocks them off their feet.

A strong light pierces the darkness.  Birch and his 
people are waiting.  "Keep moving!" Katya shouts.  
They follow her across the floor.  Dana hears 
gunshots echoing, Birch's voice ordering them to 
freeze.  A wooden door looms ahead.  Katya rips it 
open and urges them inside.  Sam disappears from 
view, bent under the weight of his father's body.

Ben turns back, raising Sam's rifle to ward off their 
pursuers. "Dana, go, go..." 

Birch and his men return fire.  Shots bounce off the 
pedestal, making sharp cracking sounds.

Suddenly Dana feels a searing pain across her 
forehead. The black air swims and swirls.  She drops 
to her knees, dazed, tasting blood.  

Katya kneels beside her.  "Dana!" she cries.  "You, 
take her...here's the light, give me the gun.  Carry 
her up.  Go, now!"

Ben carries Dana through the doorway and starts 
climbing the stairs.  Her ears ring with explosions 
and her head swims with remembrance...

Soft hands brushing her hair.

"The night keeps all the light inside, to fill her 
empty womb..."

A gentle voice, singing dark lullabies.

"Her breath comes quick and shallow, like a dying 
bird..."

"Ben, Ben...stop.  Oh god, put me down.  Ben, 
please...I have to go back for my daughter."

She struggles.  He sets her down.  Her knees buckle.  

He catches her.  "Dana, you're hurt, you can't."

"She's my daughter, Ben.  She's Mulder's daughter.  I 
have to go back for her."

Ben holds her tightly.  "Dru!"

Dru, a few steps above them, turns.  Ben gestures for 
him to come back down.

"Here's the light.  Go, don't wait.  I have to go 
back."

He disappears down the stairway.

~~~~

Will picks himself up from the floor of the chasm. He 
moves his body slowly, gingerly.  He is surprisingly 
free of pain.

It's hard to understand.  There had been a horrifying 
sensation when he hit the bottom, of his head 
slamming against some kind of blunt stone object.  
For a brief instant the pain had been unholy and 
indescribable.  But now it's gone.

Looking around him, he begins to understand.  He's 
visited this place many times before.

Black water purls and dances inches from his toes.  

A high, rocky bluff towers over the far shore of the 
river.  A small, square structure is perched on its 
edge.  In front of the structure, a figure stands 
waiting, wrapped like a mummy in a simple, black 
shawl.  The figure raises an arm and beckons.

Will knows what he has to do.

Icy water fills his boots as he plunges into the 
river.  It swirls around his calves, his knees, his 
waist, threatening to paralyze his body and suck it 
into the depths.  It's a familiar sensation.  The 
secret is to always keep moving.  He strikes out 
against the strong current.  

Pulling himself through the shocking black water 
takes every ounce of his strength.

He glances down.  Helpless faces stare up at him just 
under the surface, their mouths and eyes wide with 
fear.  His heart beats faster.  He fights to keep his 
footing.  The river bottom drops away, forcing him to 
swim.

The hands of the forsaken pluck at his toes and grasp 
at his ankles, trying to slow his pace.  He kicks 
harder and pushes against the flood, but it's 
difficult to keep his mouth and nose above the 
waterline, almost impossible to make any progress.

It shouldn't be this hard, he thinks.  It's never 
been hard before.

He goes down.  His lungs begin to fill.

"Will!"  

A familiar voice in his head.

He breaks the surface, gasping for air, casting a 
desperate glance upward.  A thin, white rope dangles 
above his head.  One determined grab and his fingers 
close around it.  He lifts himself up and out of the 
current.  Slowly, tortuously, he ascends, pulling the 
weight of his dripping body hand over hand over hand 
over hand...

The wind plasters his wet clothes to his body.  He's 
never been so cold.

There's no choice but to keep climbing, though.  He 
knows that someone is waiting.

~~~~

A deafening explosion rocks the winding stairway.  
Dust and debris shower onto their heads.

Sam travels steadily upward.  Dru follows, carrying 
Dana like a doll in his arms.  

She stirs.  "Dru, where's Ben?  Are they coming?  Did 
he find her?"

"I don't know.  I don't hear them."

"God, do you feel that?" Sam shouts.  "Fresh air..."

He lays his father gently on the stairs and lifts 
himself up through a hole in the rock.  "This is it," 
he calls down to them.  "Dru, help me with Will..."  

The earth shakes below them.

"Come on, man, we have to get out of here.  This 
whole damn bluff might come down."

The rock wall of the stairway threatens to give way.  
Dru grasps Mulder under the arms, hoisting him toward 
his brother's waiting hands. Then he pulls Dana up 
the remaining stairs and lifts her through the hole.

Sam has laid Mulder on the crisp brown grass at the 
top of the bluff.  Dana collapses beside him, sucking 
fresh air into her lungs.  "Dru," she cries, as Sam 
pulls his brother out into the night, "is Ben behind 
you?"

"Goddammit, no."  Dru peers back down into the hole, 
calling Ben's name.

"We should go," Sam says.  "Birch's people could be 
behind us."

"What about Ben, man?  What if he's hurt down there?"  
Dru crouches, preparing to go back into the hole.

The ominous rumbling below them grows louder.  "He'll 
catch up," Sam says grimly.  

Dru springs to his feet and runs to the edge of the 
bluff.  He looks down, then jogs back toward them.  
"I can see a fire down there.  Is that Kaya and 
Matt?"

"Yeah, come on."  Sam bends wearily toward Mulder's 
body.  

Dru stops him with a hand on his shoulder. "Sam," he 
says, quietly and firmly, "let me, man."

Sam steps back.  Dru lifts his father.  He focuses 
the light and starts looking for a trail.

Sam scoops Dana up without another word, following 
his brother.  

~~~~

The walls of the chamber are beginning to crumble.  
Yekaterina squints in Birch's bright light, firing 
recklessly, blocking the exit that leads out of the 
crypt.

"Put the gun down, Yekaterina."  

She fires toward the sound of his voice in reply.  

"There's no time for this, woman.  We need to leave!" 

"Think I'm letting you leave here, Birch?"

Rocks drop from the ceiling.  A shot cracks into the 
wall above her head.

"We're going through that door and you're going with 
us.  Put the gun down and I won't have to hurt you."

"Katya, come on..." Wallace's voice is desperate.  
"We've got you outgunned.  Don't be stupid."

A rock crashes down.  Yekaterina dodges, keeping her 
rifle level.

The wooden door creaks open behind her. "Katya," an 
unfamiliar voice hisses.  "The place is coming down, 
come on, come with me!"

She twists to see who's talking, dropping to the 
floor as several shots ring out.  The man who came 
with Dana crouches and reaches toward her.  "Dana 
needs you," he cries.  "Come with me, now!"

"Dana won't leave this canyon alive if Birch has his 
way.  Go without me!"

The earth rumbles under their feet.  Long cracks 
begin to appear in the floor.  

"Give it up, Yekaterina!"  Birch and his men are 
advancing.

She straightens, leveling her gun and sending a 
shower of bullets in their direction.  Wallace and 
Jonah scatter.  Birch moves forward, unafraid.

"If you don't put the gun down I'll have to hurt you, 
Katya.  You won't be able to help your mother, then.  
Give me the gun and we'll talk about it later."

Yekaterina tries to breathe.  Rocks rain down around 
her.

"She *is* my mother.  God, I knew it.  I knew it.  
That is what you're saying, isn't it, Birch?"

"That's what I'm saying.  Now put the gun down."

The man in the doorway calls to her.  "Katya, come 
with me, let's get out of here, now!"

Birch draws so near she can smell him, staring at her 
over the barrel of his gun.  Wallace and Jonah close 
in behind him, keeping her in their sights.

Yekaterina lowers her rifle.

"Let's deal, Birch."

"Make it fast."

"Let them all go.  I'll come with you."

~~~~

Snap.

Bright light.

Will stands at one end of an empty room.

A heartbeat, slow.  Growing slower.

Everything is made of smooth, polished wood: the 
floors, the walls, the ceiling.  A large mahogany 
desk and an old-fashioned coat rack sit near the far 
wall of the room.  In its center there is a simple 
ladder-backed chair.

Silence, rushing like blood.  The heartbeat, sluggish 
and irregular. 

The room has no clear exit.  Will looks over his 
shoulder to see if there's a door behind him.

A rustle.  A flurry.  Wings settle into place.

His head snaps forward.

A white owl sits in the middle of the desk. 

Silence, still as glass.  The heartbeat, fading.  

The owl is waiting for him.

His feet make hollow tapping sounds as he walks.  He 
sits cautiously in the ladder-backed chair.

The owl spreads its wings.  It sheds its skin.  It 
hangs its owl body neatly on the coat rack.

Will blinks and shakes his head.  Maia stands before 
him, wrapped in a black woolen shawl.

Tears spring unbidden to his eyes.  He blinks them 
back.  "I've come here so many times," he says 
hoarsely.  "I've looked for you.  Why did you stay 
away?"

Her face is grave, earnest, loving.  "He's coming for 
them, Will.  You have to keep them safe."

~~~~

Grief, like a bubbling spring.  She can't suppress it 
any longer.

Dana's spirit is leaden and cold, darker than the 
night.  Sam carries her effortlessly; she feels 
weightless, more nothing than nothing.  Dru speaks 
occasionally, warning his brother about impending 
hazards, but Sam's answers are monosyllabic; he works 
hard to keep his footing as they descend the steep, 
rocky trail.

She lays her head against Sam's chest, blood and 
tears running pink onto his shirt.  She keeps her 
eyes fixed on Mulder's face, lying half-hidden in 
shadows, rocking gently against Dru's back.

Dana listens to the breeze rustling the grass as they 
walk.  She prays this is all a dream.

She feels Sam pressing his face against her hair.  
"Dana," he whispers,  "we're back at camp.  I'm going 
to put you down now."

~~~~

Kaya screams as Dru lays Mulder on the ground.  She 
throws herself over her father's body, hiding her 
face against him.

Dana walks unsteadily toward the blanket, leaning 
against Sam.  She kneels by Mulder, laying two 
fingers on the cool flesh of his throat, checking for 
a pulse.  Kaya lies prone, weeping.  Dana reaches out 
to stroke her back, murmuring soothingly. 

"Is he really dead?" Dru asks, frozen in place behind 
her.

Dana stares into Mulder's blood-streaked face, 
pushing a stray lock of hair off his forehead and 
letting her palm rest on his cheek.  His flesh is 
growing colder by the second.

Tears spill unheeded down her face.

None of this seems real. 

Dru kicks the ground.  "I refuse to believe this."

"Yeah," Sam whispers.  "Nothing can kill Will.  He 
doesn't die."

Dana traces Mulder's icy white lips with the tip of 
her index finger.

"Go after him, Sam," Dru whispers.

The shock of Dru's words raises Kaya's head.  She 
stares at Sam expectantly.  

Sam backs away.  "I can't go there.  He hasn't taught 
me..."  

"Sam, please," Kaya begs.  "Please try."

"No." Sam says tightly, his face utterly blank.  
"Will wouldn't want me to."

"It's okay," Dana says, her eyes locked to Mulder's 
face.  "It's okay, everyone.  I'll go."

She closes her eyes, bends to kiss him, collapses on 
top of his body.


~~~~

Snap.

She stands inside.

The sky hangs low as earth.

Mud.  Rock.  Air.

The river flows.  Dead fingers scratch the shoreline.

Moans.

Unnatural.

Deafening.

Hands like the moon.  Hands over her ears.

"Mulder!!!" she screams.

No answer.

~~~~

Will shakes his head, bewildered.

"Coming for them?  Coming for who?"

"The babies, Will.  You need to understand."

"Babies?  Do you mean the twins?"

"Your babies, yes.  You have to protect them."

"Who's coming for them, Maia?"

"A man who wants to control them."

"What do you mean?"

"You've been told about Kaya."

"It's true, then."

"Yes.  I'm sorry."

"God, why did you..."

"They said they would kill my children.  I didn't 
have any choice.  That's not why I'm here now, 
though.  Listen: seven years after Kaya's birth they 
came to me and threatened to expose what I'd done.  I 
didn't know then that Kaya was your child, Will.  I 
was afraid I'd lose her, and Sam and Dru as well, if 
I didn't give them what they wanted.  I left the 
children with my mother during Soyal.  I went to 
Riverbend.  The doctor put the eggs inside me, just 
like he did with Kaya, several, to make sure one 
would take.  They told me this time the pregnancy 
would be different, more dangerous.  They warned I 
would get very big.  We didn't figure out there were 
two babies until it was too late.  Then they told me 
to prepare myself.  They told me I was going to die."

"And you kept this to yourself?  You went through 
that alone?"

"I couldn't trust anyone, not Ben, not my 
mother...the situation was so serious, I knew they 
would tell you.  I knew you too well, Will.  I knew 
what you'd do, go off and get yourself killed.  I was 
as good as dead.  The children needed their father.  
So I did what I had to do."

Light rushes in silence.  Will closes his eyes.

"Maia, the twins...I need to understand.  Who's their 
father?  Where did they come from?"

Maia crosses the room, her feet barely grazing the 
smooth, wooden floor.

"You're their father, Will."

He whispers.  "That's not possible."

She lays an ice-cold hand on his cheek.  "Will, 
they're you."

The ladder-back chair clatters to the floor as Will 
rises, stumbling backward.  "What do you mean, 
they're me?"

The room fades away.  The floor disappears.

~~~~

"Dana..." Kaya reaches for Dana's hand.  Dana's 
unconscious form rolls off Will's body.  Sam drops to 
his knees and feels for a pulse.

"Holy shit," Dru says.  "Do you think she really did 
it?"

"Of course not," Sam murmurs.  "She's hurt.  She's 
exhausted."  

Matthew speaks quietly.  "Where's Ben, Sam?"  He 
stands at the edge of camp, looking out into the 
darkness.

Sam doesn't answer.  "Dru, help me move her."  

"Don't take her away from Will," Kaya cautions.

Sam shoots her a wrathful look, but doesn't argue.  
They arrange Dana so she lies next to Will.  Sam 
shudders internally at the sight of the two of them 
laid out together on the blanket.  He kneels and 
tends Dana's injury.

"Looks like a bullet grazed her forehead.  Bleeding's 
slowing down.  Her heartbeat's steady.  I think 
she'll be okay."

He paces, looking around.  "We've got to move camp," 
he murmurs.  "I don't know where Birch and his people 
are, but we need to hide until daylight..."

Boots crunching over rock in the darkness.  Ben steps 
out of the shadows.  

"Ben, you inconsiderate bastard."  Matt throws his 
arms around his friend.  "Where the hell have you 
been?"

"We've been trying to get down that bluff in the dark 
without breaking our fucking necks."

Matthew looks confused.  "We?"

Katya melts out of the darkness and stands near Ben's 
shoulder. 

"Holy fuck, Katya..." Dru starts toward her.  "You've 
got to help my father."

Sam moves toward the fire, intending to scatter it.  
"We need to get moving."

"Sam, it's all right," Ben says. "We're safe.  We can 
leave in the morning."

Sam doesn't seem to hear him.  He scrapes his boot 
through the embers.  "We can talk later."

Dru grabs his brother's arm.  "Didn't you hear Ben, 
man?  Just wait."

Katya takes a few shy steps into the camp.  "Where's 
Dana?  I came to say good-bye to her."

Sam gestures limply toward the blanket.  "There.  She 
passed out a few minutes ago, but I think she'll be 
okay."

Katya moves swiftly, dropping to her knees with a 
small cry and placing her hands on both sides of 
Dana's face.

Sam takes a few steps toward her.  "She's going to be 
fine.  It's nothing, just a crease.  She needs to 
rest, that's all."

Still sitting near her father's body, Kaya stares in 
astonishment at the new arrival.

"God, they could be sisters," Matt mutters.

Ben clears his throat and looks at the ground.

Katya grasps both of Dana's hands.  "She's cold," she 
rasps.  "This isn't sleep."

"She went to find my father." Kaya whispers.  "I know 
that's where she is."

"You can help them, Katya," Dru urges.  "You know 
what I mean."

Katya puts her hand on Will's chest.  "You weren't 
dead when I helped you, kid," she says, softly.  "I 
don't think I can do anything for him."

Ben approaches Katya cautiously, squatting on the 
ground next to her.  "Before you go, Katya, I... I 
need to tell you something about this man."  He casts 
a glance around the camp.  "Something your mother 
would want you to know."

"Her mother?  Who?" Dru crouches near them, listening 
intently.  Everyone waits for Ben to speak.

Ben hesitates.  He stares at Katya. "No, Dru.  This 
isn't for you, man.  It's only for her, for now..."

He leans over and whispers in Katya's ear.  Her eyes 
go wide.  She moans.

~~~~

Will hangs in the wind, bloodless fingers clinging 
desperately to the high, rocky bluff.  He stares down 
at the rushing black water, far beneath his dangling 
feet.  

The white owl takes flight above his head, wheeling 
off into the lavender sky. 

"I have a gift to give you, brother."

Will looks up.  Alex Krycek stands on the bluff above 
him, the tips of his boots inches from Will's 
fingers.

"There's nothing you can give me that I'd want, 
Krycek."

"No?  Are you sure?"

The wind buffets Will's body.  He strains to keep his 
grip on the sharp, slippery rocks. 

Krycek leans closer.  "Listen to me, Mulder.  You can 
go back to Scully.  You can live beyond living.  I'll 
tell you how it works."

"There's no point, Krycek," Will gasps, his muscles 
beginning to ache.  "I'm not going to listen to you."

"Did you know that you have the power to save 
humanity, Mulder?  Isn't that what you've always 
wanted?  To be the big hero?  Ride in on the white 
horse and save the day?"

"The boys Maia spoke of.  They *are* you, Mulder.  
When she came to Riverbend that very first night, she 
brought us the cells that we needed.  There were 
still some bugs in our method, but we thought we had 
found the key.  The Native women, their immunity to 
the alien virus...Maia was able to bear your 
children, Mulder.  We hoped she'd be able to give 
birth to your clone.  And she did, Mulder.  It was 
better than we could have hoped for.  Now we have not 
one, but two perfect replicas, with the same cell 
structure, the same body chemistry.  You were 
engineered by the aliens to repopulate the planet 
with their bloodline.  But we have successfully 
stolen the design."

"This is sick, Krycek," Will shouts over the noise of 
the wind. "I don't believe you."

"What possible reason is there for me to lie now?  
I'm trying to help you, my friend.  Live.  Raise 
those boys.  When they reach maturity Birch will 
contact you.  Breed them with your daughter, Mulder.  
Repopulate the planet.  You'll become the Father of 
Humanity, Adam in a whole new garden..."

Will stares up at him in horror.  "My daughter?  What 
are you talking about?"

"Your first-born child.  She's a miracle, Mulder.  
Conceived when the alien virus was ravaging your 
body.  Scully's only successful birth.  Think about 
it.  She's the deal, Mulder, the real deal.  The new 
model.  When your clones breed with her, we'll win."  

Will's grip begins to fail.  "I won't do it.  It's 
insane."

Krycek stares down at him, smiling cruelly. "Here's 
my gift to you, brother.  The secret to eternal life.  
It's Yekaterina's kiss, my friend.  Yekaterina's 
kiss."

He kicks Will's fingers viciously.  They lose their 
hold on the rock.  

Will plummets helplessly.  

Falling.

Falling.

The water waits for him. 

~~~~

Kaya moves aside, puzzled, as Katya kneels on the 
blanket beside Will's body.  Katya studies him 
tenderly, tears in her eyes, her face ablaze with 
rapture.  

"There, the nose," she murmurs.  "I know that nose.  
Those lips..."

She reaches out to smooth his hair.  "When I saw you 
in Dru's mind, I knew I'd seen you before," she tells 
him, hoarsely.  "...in Dana's mind, in my 
father's..."

She smiles wistfully, leaning down to whisper in his 
ear.

"I always knew in my heart Alex wasn't really my 
father..."  

She presses her lips against Will's.

"Hey.  Sam..." Kaya stiffens, looking toward her 
brothers in alarm.

"What's she doing?" Sam mutters, taking a step 
forward, reaching out to stop her.

"Sam, no." Dru seizes his brother by the arm, pulling 
him back.  "Let her.  Kaya, it's okay.  She can help 
him."

"I don't understand this..."

"Neither do I.  But you guys, I was fucking shot in 
the back.  This morning I couldn't feel my legs.  
Then Katya came and...look, she has a gift.  I know 
Will would want us to trust it."

Sam gestures helplessly toward the woman who is 
kissing his father's dead body.  "Dru...dammit, why 
should I trust her?  I don't even know who the hell 
she is."

"She's Dana's daughter."

Three dark heads turn to Ben in amazement.  

"That's what you meant, before," Dru murmurs.

Ben silences him with a hand on his arm: "And I don't 
quite know how to break it to you, kids, but she's 
Will's daughter, too. That makes her your sister."

Kaya crosses her arms tightly over her chest, her 
face expressionless.  Sam opens his mouth, then 
closes it again.  Dru gives a low whistle.

Smoke from the compound inside the mountain marches 
like an invading army through the camp.

All at once a surge of energy runs through Katya's 
body.  She reaches back toward Dana, grasping for her 
mother's hand.

Will's body begins to shake.

"Oh my god, look."  Kaya rises slowly from the ground 
and backs away into Matthew's arms.  

"She has a gift all right..." Sam murmurs, amazed.  
He sinks to his knees, taking Kaya's place by Will's 
side.  He reaches for his father's lifeless hand and 
closes his eyes to pray.


End 8 of 9

Title - The Four Corners Cycle, Book Four: 
Yekaterina's Kiss (9 of 9)
Author - Spookey247 

~~~~

Dana runs on the shore of the river, faster and 
faster, calling Mulder's name.  The dead cry out to 
her, wailing and pleading.  She begs them to tell her 
where he's gone.

"Come in, come in," they sing to her.  "Come in and 
we'll try to help you..."

Dana takes a few steps forward.  Their fingers brush 
her boots.

"Dana, wait.  The dead can be a tricky bunch.  I 
wouldn't wade in before I knew where I was going."

She starts, turning toward him.

He strokes his white beard and smiles.

"Water's good, don't you think?"

"Where's Mulder?" she cries.  "I've got to find him."

"Yes, dear, yes.  You do."

"Help me, then.  Where is he?"

"He's in the earth."

"What?"

"Beneath the sky."

"I don't know what that means..."

"Behind the sun."

"You're not making sense.  Please help me."

The old man leans closer.  He chucks her under the 
chin.  "He's under the water, brave girl."

He gives her a knowing wink.  "Under the water," he 
mouths, looking very pleased with himself.  "Go 
ahead.  He's waiting for you."

"You mean..."

"You were going to cross the river, weren't you?  
Look for him there, go ahead.  Keep moving.  Don't 
stop until the time is right."

"How will I know when the time is right?"

"Trust yourself.  You'll know."

Dana turns back toward the river and steps cautiously 
into the current. She picks her way across the 
treacherous river bottom.  The water is amazingly 
easy to traverse.  The dead swell around her like a 
school of fish, sighing with pleasure as they curl 
and slip over the contours of her body.

Suddenly the current lifts her off her feet.  She 
treads water, looking around for some sign to guide 
her forward.

The sound of wings fluttering.  A white owl wheels 
overhead.

Dana's arms and legs stop moving.  The greedy dead 
surround her body, pulling her toward the bottom.

Sinking.

Sinking.

Sinking.

Snap.

She stands on the rim of the earth.

She squints, lifting her hands to shield her eyes 
from the bright sun.  The air dry and hot.  She walks 
forward, across rocks, red soil and sparse 
vegetation.  Her mouth is dry.  Her heart races.

She finds him standing on the edge of a precipice, 
staring out into the Canyon.

"Mulder!"

He turns. She catches her breath as he reaches toward 
her.

He is beautiful.  He is perfect.  

His face is dark and troubled.

"Mulder, come with me, we've got to go back."

He takes her in his arms.  His body feels so real, so 
alive, the muscles taut and sure and strong.  She 
presses against him, vowing not to let go. 

His eyes search her face.  "Tunatya," he murmurs.  
"Do you remember what that means?"

"Tunatya," she whispers fiercely, "it means 
'hoping'."

"That's right." 

A bittersweet smile.  His mouth bending toward hers.

"Remember that, my love."

~~~~
"Damn." Ben whispers.  "Do you think we should stop 
this?"

Will's body continues to shake, as if the ground 
beneath it were about to open and swallow his body 
whole.  Yekaterina sways on her knees, trembling, her 
mouth locked to Will's mouth, fingers twined with 
Dana's fingers.  A wail is rising inside her body. 
Dana is stirring, her head rolling from side to side, 
her lips moving, murmuring.  Sam's chanting grows 
louder by the moment, his eyes rolling back into his 
head.

"Are you kidding?" Dru answers, totally incredulous.  
"God, I've never seen anything like it.  I'm scared 
to touch them."

"It's holy," Kaya whispers, tears shining like 
crystal in her eyes.  "There's a holy thing happening 
here..."

~~~~

His mouth is a portal, the kiss a twisted path into 
his soul.  Dana streams inside him, coursing past a 
mosaic of memory and emotion: his life energy, 
dancing before her mind's eye.

A white light burns.  She clings to him.  They rush 
down the tunnel together.

Mountains of books and files rise around them. The 
quest that once consumed him. 

His sister's face, young and innocent.  His father's, 
cruel and rigid.  

Purple terror.  Black despair.

His head in a vice.  The drill, coming down.

He screams.

Drums.  Firelight.  A bitter drink in an earthen 
bowl.

Newborn babies, drenched and screaming.

Red passion, like a pool of blood.  

Scully.  

The fire that fuels me, he tells her. 

The heart of my heart, my love.

Snap.

He's gone.

The light stabs at her eyes.  She covers them in 
agony.

"Mulder!  Where are you?"

"It's okay, Dana."

A soothing, familiar voice caresses her ears.

You, she thinks.  You were always with me.

"I came to say good-bye to you.  I'm going with Birch 
for a while.  He's the only one who understands what 
I am.  I need to find out what he knows."

"Please don't go."

"Someone has to keep an eye on him, Dana.  Someone 
who knows what he's capable of."

"But I haven't seen you in the light.  We haven't 
talked.  I haven't touched you."

"I'll find you again."

"Baby, please, stay.  I want to know you."

"Oh mama, you will.  In time."

Soft fingers stroke Dana's hair.  The voice sings 
tunelessly. 

"The night keeps all her light inside 
She wonders at the stars
In and out of time she sings
A song that has no words
The night keeps all her light inside
She's naked in her shroud
She knows the earth is hollow
She knows her heart is gone..."

"Yes..." Dana breathes.  "The rest, please, Katya..."

"The night keeps all her light inside
To fill her empty womb
Her breath comes quick and shallow
Like a dying bird
The night keeps all her light inside 
To fill the empty sky
She knows the earth is hollow
She knows her heart is gone..."

"I'm going to go now.  I'll see you soon."

"Tunatyava," Dana whispers.

"What does that mean?"

"Coming true."

Snap.

They stand on a precipice in the blinding sun.

Mulder lifts his face away from hers.  Tears glitter 
in his eyes.

"Mulder, please," Dana gasps, "Please.  Come with 
me."

He smiles.  "I'll see you soon."

"What do you mean?  Come with me, Mulder..."

He releases her, backing toward the edge, raising his 
arms toward the sky, leaning back...

"Mulder no, come back, oh my god..."

He allows himself to plunge over the edge.

"No!" Dana screams as he drops from sight.

She falls to her knees, mouth open, face wet in 
wonder.

Snap.

Ben's face hangs over hers, pale and worried.  "God, 
Dana, are you all right?"

"I saw him..." she murmurs.  "Ben!  Oh my god, Ben, 
you made it out..." She sits bolt upright, heart 
pounding, casting a desperate gaze around the camp.  
Sam is curled in a ball on the ground, his shoulders 
shaking.  Kaya presses against Matthew at the edge of 
the circle of firelight, sobbing.

"Ben, did you find her?  Where's Katya?"

"Katya's gone." Dru squats near her. "She said you'd 
understand."

"Oh god, no.  I didn't get to see her...god, why did 
she..."

Ben bites his lip.  "Katya made a deal with Birch, 
Dana.  She goes with him, the rest of us leave the 
Canyon alive."

"Alive..." Dana closes her eyes and shakes her head.  
It feels like it's splitting wide open. "Alive.  Oh 
my god, is he alive?  Where is he?" 

She scrambles across the blanket on her knees, 
snatching Mulder's hand up, pressing it to her cheek.

Oh god.

It's warm.

"You've been screaming his name," Ben rasps. "Calling 
for him to come back..."

"He's alive," she moans.  "He's alive, he's alive..."

Mulder's eyelids flutter.  She gasps and presses her 
lips to his palm.

"Holy..." Dru rushes to his father.

"Oh my god..." Ben falls to his knees next to her. 
"Sam.  Kaya." 

Sam rises from the ground on one elbow. "Will?"

Mulder's eyes drift open.  He tries to focus on 
Dana's face, fingers curling against her cheek, lips 
moving, saying something.

"Mulder, I'm here. Don't try to talk.  We're all 
here, shhhhhhh. Just rest."

"Tunatya," he mouths at her, "Tunatyava."

"Yes, yes," she tells him.  "I remember, Mulder.  I 
promise I'll always remember."

Tunatya.

Tunatyava.

Hoping.

Coming true.


End of Book Four




Epilogue
__________


August 22, 2036
Somewhere Near Tuba City, Arizona
__________

Dana is dozing in the purple light of early morning.  
She burrows into the bedclothes, savoring the brush 
of much-laundered cotton against the naked satin of 
her suntanned skin.

She smiles, blissfully.  

Every day begins in silence.

Her body is still humming.  

Every day begins with him.

She reaches over and wraps her arms around his 
pillow, which lies askew near the edge of the bed.  
She breathes his essence, just as she does every 
morning, after he gives her one last kiss and leaves 
their bed to greet the sun.  

She's so, so comfortable...just a few more minutes...

She's had a hard time getting up lately.  But today 
sleeping in is not an option.  

Dana sits up with a sigh.  Her feet find the floor.  
She takes a moment to make the bed, enjoying the 
musky aroma that floats up from the sheets as she 
straightens them.  The smell of pleasure, she thinks.  
The smell of us.

The bed is full-sized, almost brand new.  It was a 
wedding present from Dru, salvaged from some far away 
place and brought in on the supply truck from 
Flagstaff.  Dana can only imagine what Dru had to do 
to get it, how many palms he had to grease, how much 
free repair work he had to promise to his new boss, 
the supply man.  She knows he's probably still paying 
for the bed; that bothers her sometimes.  But he was 
so proud when he gave it to them that she could not 
possibly have refused it.

She wonders if Dru will come home, today.  When he 
left for work two weeks ago, headed to Phoenix and 
points beyond, he promised he would be home in time 
for the celebration.  
 
Today's a big day.  An important day for the family.  
It's a day that's been a long time coming.

She slips into a long cotton skirt and pulls a tank 
t-shirt over her head, wincing as the cotton chafes 
her sensitive nipples.  Her breasts have been sore 
the last few days.  She's not entirely sure why.

Maybe he's kissed them too much, she thinks, smiling.

She steps into the hallway, peering into Mulder's old 
room.  The twins are a tangle of arms and legs, 
crushed against the wall amidst a heap of sheets and 
pillows.  Last night the boys giggled and wrestled 
until well past midnight.  

Maybe they'll sleep late this morning.  A few extra 
minutes of peace would certainly be helpful...

Mato and Quinn have been difficult all week.  
Bouncing off the walls, testing every limit she and 
Mulder have set.  But Dana understands.  She's trying 
to be patient.  

They're excited.  No one in the family has celebrated 
a birthday since the day that Maia died.  This will 
be the first birthday party the twins have ever had.

Dana pads toward the kitchen in bare feet, glancing 
into Kaya's bedroom as she passes.  There are two 
bumps under the sheet.  Kaya's eyes are half-open, 
gazing into the hallway over Matthew's arm.  
"Morning," she whispers.

"Morning," Dana smiles.  She's been noticing, the 
last few days, how much Kaya looks like her 
grandmother.  She has her grandmother's spirit, too.  
Her loyalty.  Her determination.

"I'll be up in a minute, Dana.  Stir the fire and 
I'll start breakfast."

Maggie would be so proud of Kaya.

She'd be proud of Katya, too.

Someday, Dana thinks, I'll tell them both about their 
grandmother.  

After I find a way to tell Kaya the truth.

Dana swallows the lump that boils up in her throat.  
She cries at the drop of a hat these days.  Mulder 
keeps teasing her.  Calling her 'weepy'.  Grinning 
like an idiot, though she doesn't know why.

Dana pauses near the sofa to pull on her boots.  
Throwing the door of the trailer open, she steps out 
into the dawn.

~~~~

Dana stirs the coals of the cooking fire.  She throws 
a few sticks of kindling in the embers, blowing on 
them gently to bring them to life.  She takes an old 
metal bucket and starts toward the spring, 
remembering a morning, not so long ago, when climbing 
this slope had been like some kind of Herculean 
challenge.  

She bends down by the cool, clear pool and lifts the 
ladle to get herself a drink.  A few tendrils of 
sunlight spill over the hillside above her.  She 
lifts her gaze to the top of the rise, knowing she'll 
find him there.

He is standing, arms folded, looking out across the 
mesa.  

He is beautiful.  He is perfect.

Dana leaves the spring and climbs toward him.

He turns for a moment when he hears her footsteps, 
reaching for her hand with a delighted smile.  "Good 
Morning, again." 

He is damp and shirtless.  He smells like soap.  Dana 
snakes her arms around his waist, nuzzling his bare 
chest.  He buries a soft kiss in her hair and sighs.

"Let's forget the party and go back to bed..."

"If only," she laughs.

They stand holding each other, looking out at the 
sunrise. 

"I wonder if Sam and Ben will make it this 
afternoon," Dana wonders aloud.  "What about it, 
Mulder?  Can you see them out there somewhere?"

He watches light creeping across the sky. "They're 
coming."

"How do you know?"

He shrugs.  He smiles.

Sam has been traveling with Ben since Matthew's 
wedding.  They left about a month ago, headed for New 
Mexico, to visit Ben's friends in the Pueblos.

"It's so far away.  Do you think they even know what 
day it is, Mulder?"

He looks down at her with a reassuring grin.  
"They'll be here after lunch."

Dana reaches up and smoothes the wet hair away from 
his forehead.  A red, angry scar dashes across it and 
disappears into his hairline.  Another scar, she 
thinks, on a body that's already covered...

She takes a moment to send her thanks heavenward 
again.  

He runs a finger over the crease in her brow.  "Stop 
worrying so much," he jokes.  "It's a birthday party, 
not brain surgery." 

"I want this day to be perfect for the boys.  I want 
them to feel special."

He looks down at the ground, wryly.  "No worries 
there.  They're special, all right."

"Mulder..."

"I've got some news," he murmurs, lifting his gaze to 
her face.  "When I went to the exchange yesterday 
afternoon there was a message from Moenkopi...Last 
night you were so busy with the boys there wasn't 
time to tell you."

They've been waiting two months for this message.  
Soon after their return from the Canyon, Mulder went 
to Moenkopi to plead their case, to ask the elders 
there to acknowledge the fact that their offspring 
were normal, and to ask the tribal council to accept 
their marriage.  The Elders asked for time to 
consider the matter.  Since then it's been like 
waiting for the other shoe to fall. 

Dana catches her breath.  "What did the message say?"

He gives her an odd little smile.  "It said that 
Maia's uncle Edward was coming with two of her 
cousins to join us for the party."

"I'm confused, Mulder.  That's good, right?"

"Well, aside from the fact that it means we're going 
to be spending the day with an incredibly obnoxious 
and senile old man, yes, Scully, it's good.  It's a 
sign.  It means they've accepted us."

"That's wonderful news," she says with a brilliant 
smile.

"It means they've accepted Quinn and Mato, too.  
Although I'm not really sure why."

She lays her hand on his cheek.  "They accepted them 
because there's nothing wrong with them, Mulder.  We 
don't know if what you saw in your vision was the 
truth.  Right now the only thing we know with any 
certainty is that the twins are normal, healthy 
children.  And this party, this attention, it's what 
they need.  They need us, Mulder.  They need you."

He closes his eyes.  "I'm trying," he mutters 
huskily.

She stands on tiptoe to kiss him.  "I know you are."

Grief swells, subsides.  They ride the wave.

"Mulder, I keep thinking about Katya."

"I know."

She lays her palm on his chest.  "Do you still feel 
her?"

"Yes, I always do."

He pulls her closer. "We'll see her soon."

He bends and runs his lips over the curve of her 
neck, tightening his grip, pressing her body against 
his own.

Dana gasps as her tender breasts crush against his 
chest.  

He stops.

He smiles.

"Are they still tender?"

"Yes.  It doesn't let up."

His smile gets bigger.

"You haven't bled, have you?"

"I don't even know if I do that anymore."

His face lights like the rising sun.  He kneels, 
lifting the hem of her t-shirt and pressing his lips 
against the bare flesh of her belly.  "Another 
miracle, Scully," he whispers.

"Mulder, you're not thinking...no, no matter how much 
we might want it, it's simply not possible.  My womb 
has been scarred, there's no way I could conceive..."

Tears appear as if by magic.

Mulder gazes up at her, grinning like an idiot.  
"Weepy..." he croons.

"Stop teasing me, Mulder.  I'm serious.  There's got 
to be another explanation for this."

Mulder rises to his feet.  He takes her in his arms.

He kisses the tears away. 

"I feel her heartbeat when I'm inside of you."

Dana clings to him weakly.  "You're not saying..."

"I'm saying I'm certain, Scully.  I've been certain 
for days.  We're going to have another daughter."

Tears like a river.  Miracles rushing.

Another wish coming true.



Here ends the Cycle...




Author's Notes: The references to Hopi ritual and 
mythology found in this story were taken from two 
books: The Book of the Hopi, by Frank Waters, and 
American Indian Myths and Legends, edited by Richard 
Erdoes and Alfonso Ortiz.  Both books are 
fascinating.  I highly recommend them.

Another good read that served as source material for 
Four Corners is Dreamtime and Inner Space: The World 
of the Shaman, by Holger Kalweit.  This book rocks.  
Seriously.  Rocks. <G>

I have to give a nod to Ursula K. Le Guin, principle 
goddess of my literary pantheon.  Her book, Always 
Coming Home, dreams of a post-apocalyptic culture 
based loosely on Hopi culture.  Although I didn't 
borrow anything deliberately from that work, I'm sure 
bits of its world can be found in the world of Four Corners.

Thanks to everyone who supported me while I was 
writing this, especially Amanda, and my family, who, 
for four months, had to put up with a neglectful 
mother who spent too much time in front of the 
computer. <g>

If you liked the Four Corners World, please let me 
know!  There may be other adventures waiting to be 
written...

Spookey247@msn.com


If the truth can be Told 
So as to be Understood,
It WILL be Believed. 

 --Terrence McKenna