Date: Mon, 23 Nov 1998 19:18:40 -0500
Subject: A Fragile Faith by Alandria (1/?)


Title: A Fragile Faith
Author: A;andria
e-mail: shaunagm@hotmail.com

No other information given other then it will eventually be MSR.

I have to send it in four parts because it's kinda long, but here's 
part1:

*****


A Fragile Faith
By Alandria


					Prologue

	Eleven men sat around a long, dark wooden table.  Each was dressed in 
black, and each had a tired, worn look on his face, as though their evil 
had wiped away any humanity over the years.  What was left was cold, 
hard shells of once innocent, decent people.  Leaders, yet puppets to 
themselves and the other manipulative men and women of the shadows.
	There were no windows in this place, wherever it was.  It was pure dark 
save the glowing lamp above them, shining its yellow light over the 
group.  
	They were discussing a matter gone over many times before, but never 
resolved, never finished, never left to rot like their other victims.  
	The leader, a tall, fat man whose black hair was streaked with gray,  
took a long smoke on his cigara.  "What are we going to do about 
Mulder?"
	The black man sighed.  How many times had he tried to push this point?  
He was young, though older than the clean shaven young man standing 
restless in the back of the room.  This man had a past he wasn't told 
of, this man who by all means should be dead and buried by now.  
"Eliminate him."
	The well-manicured man frowned.  "He's too high-profile to eliminate.  
And we need him."
	Another man coughed on his cigar.  "What do you mean, we need him?  We 
need nobody, there is nothing irreplacable in the plan."
	The other shook his head.  "How would we do it?  Many people know of 
him...his death would most assuredly bring an investigation.  I have 
told you before, we must not make Mulder a martyr.  I thought we had 
agreed on this?"
	The black man leaned back.  "That was before he recieved certain
information."
	"Dammit!"  The leader swore, a irration outburst uncommon for the 
controlled men in the room.  "He didn't recieve it, he was led right to 
it!He saw it, and we can't take it back," he continued, now back in 
control.  "He saw the truth...we can't let him glimpse it again.  But is 
elimination necessary?"
 	The black man hissed.  "If we let him live, he will find the truth.  
He is so close..."
	"He is still far away," countered the well-manicured man.  "He will 
always be.  He will grow frusterated of these games...if he is killed, 
his partner will be suspicous, reinvested." 
	The black man's eyes hardened.  "Only his partner would suspect 
anything.  We could eliminate her as well."
	The leader cut in.  "A train crash, perhaps?  One that would assuredly 
kill them both?  It must be untraceable-"
	"No," the well-manicured man interrupted daringly.  To show emotion was 
to betray your true feelings, and the truth must always remain hidden.  
"He has too much use...how could was find a replacement?"  But it was 
many against one, and this was not an argument he could win.  But he 
would not give up.
	The leader smiled tightly, his staunchy, mysterious appearance mottled 
by the little pleasure he allowed to show on his face.  To finally kill 
Mulder, after all these years...
	He leaned over, laid his hand on the table in a firm sign of closure, 
and whispered confidently, "there are always replacements."


1/4

	"Mulder, where are you?" Scully murmured to the sky, wondering where
the hell her partner was.  She had been waiting for half an hour and he 
still hadn't shown up.  If he didn't show up soon, they'd reach the 
airport
too late, and they'd have to wait several days to get the next plane.  
	Just because it was a lame little town without a nearby airport, just 
because some guy couldn't have chosen another town to murder people in, 
just because someone up there wanted to piss her off...well, just 
because.  And now she stood a very good chance of missing her mother's 
birthday.
	It wasn't entirely Mulder's fault.  She wasn't sure he knew the flight 
schedules for the local airport.  But it wasn't just that.
	She and Mulder had been a little...offbeat for a while.  Her run-in 
with a murderer on the recent case hadn't exactly soothed his nerves, 
and he seemed to be going into an overprotective fit.  Not to mention 
she suspected he was getting more than a little annoyed with her 
cynisism...she prefered to call it rationalism.  In any case, it had 
almost cost her her life.
	Hurry up, Mulder, Hurry up.  
	Trying to will him to hurry up was useless, Scully decided, and turned 
her thoughts again to the case.  It had been a tough case, for both of 
them, but her especially.
	Several young girls, ages seven, eight, and nine, had been brutally 
murdered in a small, unnoticed town in southern California.  They were 
taken exactly 13 days apart, and their ages went in order.  Mulder had 
determined that he would go for Kelsey Grammer, a ten year old, 
cancer-ridden girl next.  Scully, though, had allready met Kelsey, and 
they had bonded deeply.  She didn't believe that the killer would go for 
someone allready dying, and had convinced Mulder to check through the 
town's records for other ten year old girls.
	With Mulder searching the records, Scully had gone to keep Kelsey 
company, a deep connection begining to form between the two.  The killer 
had shown up, and cut Kelsey's throat.  When Scully, who had been 
downstairs getting Kelsey some water, ran into the killer, he had tried 
to kill her as well.  He had chased her into the woods behind Kelsey's 
house, and knocke her into an ice-cold river.  She had escaped from the 
swelling river before she reached the waterfall, but the murderer had 
not.  They had found her half-frozen body unconcious in the woods a few 
hours later, and although she still had a cold she was unharmed.  
	She had seen the body, had looked at Kelsey's frail, unmoving body as 
the blood from her throat had soaked the floor a crimson red.  Kelsey's 
eyes were peacefully closed, almost as if she had been asleep, but if 
they were open, Scully would've seen them a frightened shade of blue, 
frozen in a terror that would have haunted her dreams for many nights.
	Despite only a few days together, Scully and Kelsey had grown close.  
They were both linked by cancer, but they were also linked be 
personailty.  Kelsey was a beautiful reminder of what Scully had been 
like when she was little, even Mulder said so.  Kelsey had the vibrancy 
of youth, and it choked Scully to even think of sweet little Kelsey 
under the chill of death.  Despite a large difference in age, they had 
called eachother, 'almost sisters'.
	It was childishly sweet, and heartfelt, and despite what anyone said, 
Scully knew that Kelsey's death was her fault.  Mulder had reminded her 
that she would've died of Cancer anyway, and she had snapped at him, 
before storming off.  She had seen the fight in Kelsey's eyes.  She had 
seen that fight in the eyes of the cancer patients she had visited while 
she had been cancer-ridden herself.  Kelsey wouldn't have died.
	And Mulder wouldn't be late.
	There he was, driving into the parking lot.  As she approached the car, 
she bit back an angry shout, and waited until she was in the car to 
lecture.  Lecture very loudly.
	"Mulder, where the hell were you?"  She demanded, glaring at him, 
accentuating her words with the slam of the car door.
	"Relax, Scully,"  he soothed, but he only managed to make her more 
angry.
	"No, I won't relax!"  She said as loudly as she could without damaging 
her own ears.  "You were supposed to be here an hour and a half ago and 
now we stand a very good chance at missing our plane, and that means 
that we'll have to stay in some lousy hotel for an extra two nights 
while we miss out on work, which frankly I don't care about, but also my 
mother's birthday!"
	Mulder paled.  "Your mom's birthday is in two days?"
	Scully shrugged.  "Three.  But if we don't catch the plane, we'll only 
be there for the last ten minutes of it.  Drive, Mulder!"
	Mulder gunned the gas, and sped out of the parking lot, before saying 
sarcastically, "we?  You know, Scully, if you had bothered to tell me, I 
wouldn't have been so casual about getting there on time.  It's okay 
with me if you don't want me to come to your mother's for her birthday, 
but you could at least tell me so I could get her a present or 
something."
	Scully's brow furrowed.  "I didn't invite you?"
	Mulder looked away, obviously hurt.  "No, you didn't."
	Scully immediately felt a pang of giult.  "I'm sorry, Mulder, I 
forgot-"
	Mulder turned to her.  "Listen, Scully, if you don't want me to come, 
I'll live.  You're right, it should be a night for the family.  I'll 
spend the night at home, like I usually do."
	Scully grabbed his arm.  "I was wrapped up in the case, Mulder.  I want 
you to come.  Mom wants you to come.  But it looks like neither of us 
are going because we have and hour and a half to get to the airport and 
it's a two and a half hour drive!"
	Mulder turned his attention back to the steering wheel, trying to 
soothe his nerves and end the conversation.  He kept his eyes on the 
road, watched the grainy pebbles grate beneath the old tires of the 
rental car, glad to focus on anything but Scully. 	
	"Mulder, you still haven't told me where you were."
	Silently, Mulder fished in his pocket, before coming up with a small, 
white wrapped package.  He tossed it to her, looking straight ahead.
	Scully caught it easily, it was light and obviously not to fragile.  
She slowly opened the container, and sighed painfully when she saw what 
it was.
	It was Kelsey's ring, smooth and silver, with the stone and sign for 
July.  Cancer.  
	"Where did you get this?"  She whispered to Mulder.
	"It was in Kelsey's will.  Her parents insisted she have one after she 
was diagnosed, and she left the ring to you."
	Scully bit her lip.  Even though it meant she might miss her mother's 
birthday, she was glad that Mulder had gotten the ring. 
	"Thank you," she whispered, turning her head to the window.  She 
flipped on the radio, blinking back tears as she settled down for the 
ride.

	Mulder drove silently and quickly along the road, his mind battling 
against himself.  Why didn't she tell me?  Her mother's birthday is 
important her...and to me.
	She doesn't have an eidietic memory, like you, Mulder, you idiot.  
Maybe she just forgot.  Do you think she would lie about something as 
trivial as this?
	This is different that anything else.  Obviously she doesn't want me to 
come.  
	Why not?
	Oh, come on, you know why.  Because I'm an embarassment.  
	Not to her.  Just to the rest of the world.
	Why would she lie, then?
	She didn't lie, she forgot.
	Her mother's birthday?
	She was stressed.  You know how much this case hurt her.
	See, she forgot.  
	Sure, she did.
	Shut up.
	Mulder shook his head angrily, forcing the nagging voice in his head 
away.  He stared out at the road, his mind concentrating on the lines as 
they faded slowly as the sun set.  He glanced at his partner, who had 
fallen asleep against the window.
	Mulder took a deep breath, forced himself to relax.  Yelling at Scully, 
or himself, would get him no where.  Instead, he turned on the car 
radio, and stole glances at the sunset.		
	Mulder had a reputation of being tough as well as spooky, and few 
people, except maybe Scully, knew of his fear of fires, his sympathy for 
animals, and the way he couldn't resist a good sunset.  Sunsets were 
what his mother would always point out when Sam was still around.  She'd 
point them out, show her children the beauty of it.  And they'd ignore 
her and start teasing again, his father would be too immersed in he 
files to look up, and Mrs. Mulder would quiet down, enjoying the sunset 
be herself.  Once Samantha disappeared, she never mentioned sunsets 
again.
	This one was beautiful, a golden orange streaked with read and black, 
with a deep blue-ish purple high in the sky, revealing a thick black 
curtain with no stars.  He wished he could stop the car and look out, 
but Scully would kill him, and he really did want to make that plane.  
Despite whether or not he would be at the Scully home for Maggie 
Scully's birthday, he loved and respected Mrs. Scully to much to wish 
against her happiness.  
	Sometimes Mulder wondered.  Mrs.  Scully had been so much more of a 
mother to him, in the few short years he had known her, than his mother 
had been in a lifetime.  But what would Mrs.  Scully have been like, if 
one of her children had dissappeared and never returned?  All he knew 
was that although he cared very deeply for Mrs. Scully, he loved his own 
mother fiercely, even if he never showed it.  
	Mulder drew in a shallow breath.  Why is it that although my parents 
scorned and abandoned me, I love them more than the woman who treats me 
like her child, who took me in when I was alone and afraid?
	There was some kind of bond that all the Mulders shared, even though 
only two remained together.  It was all they had left, when the trust 
and protection of a family had been stripped away.  Love was all they 
had, hidden behind years of hatred and deception and it was the one 
thing that, if she tried, his mother could provide for him, something 
he'd been searching for, for as long as he'd been searching for 
Samantha-
	Mulder brought himself out of the emotional trance he had been in,  
shook his head at the spiritual emotions and ideas that had been 
floating through his head for the past half hour.  He glanced out the 
window.  The sun had set, it was dark, a pitch black halo of night 
littered with a half-dozen stars.  
	The phone rang.  Answering quickly so it wouldn't wake Scully, he was 
annoyed when no one replied.
	"Is there anyone there?"  he asked for the third time, about to hang 
up, when a throaty, mysterious voice asked, "Agent Mulder?"
	It sounded like a young woman, but the voice was unfamiliar.  "Who is 
this?"  he demanded.
	The voice on the other end of the line hissed softly.  "My name isn't 
necessary.	Your cooperation is.  If you are not careful, you could end 
everything."
	Mulder kept his voice low and menacing.  "End what?  What are you 
talking about?"
	The woman paused.  "You will not make this plane.  Use the train."
	Mulder started.  "What?  What are you talking about?"
	"It is not in your plans, I know," the woman purred, taking on a very 
persuasive tone.  "But if you let yourself be manipulated, it will be 
the finished for both you and your partner."
	"So you want me to let myself be manipulated by you?  I don't think so.  
Get to the point or I'm hanging up."
	"I've been told that your planned route is being sabotaged.  I suggest 
you don't take it."
	"Well, it looks like I'm not gonna make it anyway, so don't worry."  he 
replied nastily.  "Not like you'd care."
	The woman hesitated before replying.  "Agent Mulder, I care very much.  
However, if you tell anyone about this, we'll both be ruined."
	"Why?" Mulder asked one last time, frustration creeping into his voice.  
Four years ago he would've canceled the drive, gotten a motel, and 
ivestigated for his life.  But he didn't.
	"You know who I work for, Agent Mulder.  You know what I do.  I thought 
the why would no longer be important, just the what."
	"Answer me."
	"Your last two contacts were terminated because of contact with you.  I 
am willing to risk my life to see to it that you suceed in your quest.  
You cannot question me.  You have to trust to get what is important to 
you." 
	Mulder shook his head, though the woman on the other end couldn't see 
it.  "You don't know what is important to me."
	The woman's voice was silent for a moment, and the pain was not all 
gone from her voice when she spoke.  "On the contrary, Agent Mulder, I 
sympathize with you greatly."
	Mulder answered, his voice dripping with disgust, "No one knows."  He 
hung up.
	Dropping the cell-phone to the floor, he let out a long sigh.
	It was too much like X, some shadowy character calling him, warning 
him, and leading him into lies.  Maybe this source could help him, but 
frankly he didn't care.  He had distanced himself from it for now, taken 
a step back because a step foward risked too much.
	I have to find her.  Nothing else matters to me.
	When had that become untrue?  When he had exchanged the Samantha's 
clone for Scully?  When he had learned there was more to the mystery 
than aliens?  When his fight was no longer his alone?
	He knew his purpose still.  Uncover the mysteries, discover the truth.  
Find Samantha.
	But it had slowed.  In the past half decade he had uncovered more than 
he ever had thought, found more then ever would've expected.  He wasn't 
the innocent boy who had 'welcomed' Scully into the X-Files more than 
five years ago, the arrogantly wondersome FBI agent who spouted spooky 
theories that were all too true. 
	But some things never change.  No matter what else mattered, Samantha 
mattered the most.  He had been through a lot to find her, but he didn't 
doubt his quest.
	In the end it would be worth it.  No matter what the consquences, he 
would find her.  He would not die until he did.  He would lose 
everything; his family, his partner, his faith.  One hadn't returned.  
He wondered how long it would be until the other two were gone for good.
	Some things never change.

end Prologue

2/4

	
	"Dammit!"
	Scully awoke to the sound of Mulder cursing.  He was VERY upset about 
something.  "What is it Mulder?"
	Mulder shook his head.  "It's just...we missed the plane."
	"Damn," Scully whispered softly to herself.  Now what were they going 
to do?  Fingering the ring on her finger, she looked to Mulder.
	"What are we going to do?"  She asked.
	Mulder didn't answer, he was staring at some kind of road map, with 
listings on the back.  Scully thought about how upset her mom would be.  
She wouldn't say anything...it wasn't like Mrs. Scully to be tactless, 
but she would be hurt, inside.  
	Mom needs me.  Scully reminded herself.  Especially since Missy and 
Ahab are gone.  
	Scully sighed.  The FBI was a tought place, and her job a tought 
profession.  Still, it seemed like every day was another death, and 
those deaths were her loved ones all too often.	
	"I'm calling my mom," she said, more to herself than to Mulder, who was 
engrossed in whatever it was he was looking at.
	Picking up her cell-phone and dialing her mother, she felt a rush of 
relief when it began to ring.  Her mother wouldn't be angry, she knew, 
but still...
	She will be disapointed.
	"Mom?"  She asked, when somone picked up.  	
	"Yes, Dana?"  Margaret Scully answered.  "Where are you?  I've been 
trying to reach you."
	"I'm on the cell phone, Mom.  I'm in California.  It looks like...it 
looks like I won't make it home in time for your birthday."  her voice 
cracked.
	"It's okay, Dana, you'll get here when you get here.  BJ and your 
neices and nephews are all here for the week."  Maggie's voice was 
soothing, but Scully could tell she was struggling to hold back the hurt 
from her tired voice.
	"I'm sorry, Mom, I am...I tried to-"  She stuttered apoligetically.  
"Really..it's..."
	The phone was lifted out of her hands.  "Mrs. Scully?"  Mulder said 
into the phone.
	"Fox, dear.  I take it you're in California, too?"
	"Yeah, the sunshine state.  Of course it's raining.  It wasn't 
Scully--uh, Dana's fault.  Really, I held her up.  I'm sorry, I didn't 
know it was your birthday, I would have been much more careful about not 
being late."
	"It's okay, Fox.  I really would like to see Dana, though, since this 
is my first birthday with...with Missy gone.  See if there's anything 
you can do?"
	"I'll do everything I can.  Here's Scully."  Mulder promised, and 
started the car again.
	Taking the phone and saying a quick but heartfelt goodbye to her 
mother, Scully turned to Mulder.  "Where are you going?"	
	Mulder smiled wryly, but it didn't hide the uneasiness his eyes 
betrayed.  "Train station."

	Mulder quickly loaded their bags onto the train.  It was scheduled to 
leave shortly, but it was imperative he speak to the conducter 
immediately.
His conversation with that mysterious woman had left him cold.
	"Your planned route is being sabotaged..."
	"Your last two sources were terminated because of contact with you..."
	"You have to trust to get what is important to you..."
	"You have to trust..."
	"No," Mulder whispered fiercely, ignoring the strange stares he 
recieved as he walked down the not-quite-deserted hallway.  He thought 
of his fiery partner.  "There is only one person I trust."
	He walked down the darkened hallway, his eyes passing idly over worn 
movies posters, and an old train schedule framed and nailed to the wall.  
He sniffed the smell of the fuel, of garbage, of smoke...
	No.  It wasn't enough, to get suspicious because someone smoked a 
cigarette.  Imagine what Scully would say if he spouted a theory like 
that...
	He reached the conducters room.  Glancing at his watch, he realized 
he'd better hurry, and pounded on the door.
	"What do you want?" came a grumpy, nasal voice from behind the door.  
Mulder couldn't even make out a face.
	"I head there was a storm coming.  Will it hit us?"
	The man behind the door grunted.  "I doubt it.  This is just the usual 
run.  Besides, I can handle a storm."
	Mulder snorted.  "I know, but will we hit it?  I need to know."  A 
storm would be perfect cover for sabotage.
	"I don't think so, boy."  The conducter retorted from behind the bars.
	"Better get back, we'll be heading out now."  The conducter dismissed 
Mulder.  Mulder sighed.  He hated trains.	
	As Mulder turned to leave, he missed the sound of a very familiar old 
man talking, and the sound of a silenced gun going off.  	

	Once they had boarded a train (and an awfully small and smelly one at 
that) they settled down to enjoy the twelve hour train ride.  Enjoy.  
Right.
	Noticing with frustration she didn't have anything to read, Scully 
amused her self by studying her partner, who was engrossed in a magazine 
(Scully didn't want to know what the magazine was about).
	His tall body was laid back, his knees jammed into the seat in front of 
him.  His blue jeans, ragged holes and all, were overly baggy, not the 
type he usually wore, and very grubby.  He was wearing a dark green 
flannel that contrasted nicely with his almost-black hair, which was 
falling over his face, as usual.  Scully couldn't see his eyes, but she 
knew that they were beautiful dark brown, with an occasional golden 
fleck in them.  Those eyes...they were trusting, reassuring to her, but 
to anyone who got on his nerves, they were cold, hard and mocking.  
	Or if he was in pain, or in trouble, they'd be either a mixture of hope 
and determination, or hollow with despair.  But either way, you could 
get lost in those eyes.  His eyes were the way he communicated, on a 
face that expressed so little.
	Scully mentally shook herself.  What are you talking about, Dana?  I 
bet he doesn't think about your eyes that way.
	Yeah, because I actually tell him stuff.
	Glancing away as he looked up, Scully felt a light touch on her arm.
	"You want a magazine?"  Mulder asked thoughfully.  
	Scully grinned.  "If they're your usual kind, no thanks."
	Mulder laughed.  "Nah, it's some copies of Alien Weekly."
	Scully raised an eyebrow.  "Alien weekly?"
	"Yeah, they've got some really good stories this week-"
	"Stories."  Scully pointed out.
	Mulder chuckled.  "Go with it, Scully." he teased.
	He turned back to his magazine, and she turned to the window, watching 
the forest roll by.  
	About an hour had past when she heard rumbling in the distance.
	"Is that your stomach, Mulder?"
	"No," Mulder replied absentmindedly, absorbed in his magazine.	
	Deciding to let him read, Scully watched the train go over a river, 
which was black and stormy.  Scully shivered.
	"It's getting awfully dark," Scully murmured, staring out the window.  
It was too early for the sun to be setting.	
	A little crack sounded, and the car swerved to the left.  Gripping
the armrests ever so slightly, Mulder asked, "do you want me to see 
what's
going on?"
	Noding, Scully turned to give him a grateful smile.  Grinning back,
Mulder lifted his lanky body from his seat and left the car.
	Realizing she was all alone in this car, Scully took the opportunity
to stand up and stretch.  Lifting her arms above her head, Scully 
checked
her watch.  Six thiry.  She had gotten it fixed a half hour before they
boarded the train.
	Taking out a book, Scully read the first few chapters before she 
realized a good twenty minutes had passed and Mulder had still not 
returned.
	Looking around anxiously, Scully wondered what was taking so long.
	Meanwhile, in the conducters room, Mulder was having a fit.  From the 
conducter's room, you could see a large, dangerous storm brewing ahead, 
and he was having a tough time getting answers from the short, stout 
little conducter.    
	"What do you mean, a storm?"  He yelled angrily.  "You promised we'd 
miss it, and here we are heading straight into it!"
	The conducter sighed wearily.  "Sir, there's nothing I can do.  The
worst that'll happen is a little turbulence."
	"Really?  Because if-" Mulder started, but was cut off by the
conducter's, "oh, shit."
	"What is it?"  he asked, his voice rising.  He felt like killing the 
man, and Mulder wasn't prone to violence...well, okay, maybe a little 
prone...but the man wouldn't tell him a thing!
	"I'm afraid there's going to be more than a bit of turbulence.  I
suggest you get back to your seat and buckle up."
	Mulder bit back an angry reply, not wanting to disturb the man when
he clearly needed to concentrate on conducting.
	Walking back into their car, Mulder just muttered, "It's fine," not
wanting to upset her.  The most either of them could do was buckle up 
and 
hope it was fine.  He hadn't told her about the phone call yet.  He 
would, when they were back in DC.
	Scully turned to the window again, sensing he was hiding something,
decided to wait until he brought it up.
	She felt his hand on hers, warm and firm, and realized he was speaking 
to her.
	"Buckle up, Scully."  he teased, but his eyes were serious and almost
pleading.  "It's the law."
	Silently putting on her belt, keeping her questioning eyes to herself, 
Scully wondered how long it would be till he'd tell her.  She looked 
back out the window. 
	It got darker.  Scully shivered, stared as hard as she could into the 
darkness, but could not make anything out.
	"Mulder?"  She asked.
	"Mm?"
	"What time is it?  My watch is broken."  Actually, it wasn't, but she 
wanted to start a coversation, so maybe he'd tell her what was going on.
	"Around seven.  Tired?"
	Deciding not to beat around the bush, Scully demanded softly, bluntly, 
"What the hell is going on here, Mulder?"
	Mulder turned to her, surprised.  "What do you mean, Scully?"
	She glared at him.  "Don't play innocent with me, Mulder.  What did
the conducter say?"
	Mulder knew better than to bluff his way out of it.  "He said that it 
was stormy, that the tracks were wet a couple miles up.  We're gonna 
have
a bit of turbulence soon."
	Scully took a deep breath, not wanting to get angry, but getting
angry anway.  "Why didn't you tell me?"
	Mulder shrugged.  "Neither of us could do anythi-"
	Scully snapped her head around. "Stop it, Mulder!  You know that I
wanted to know, and I don't give a fuck that I couldn't do a thing.  If 
this is your damn overprotectiveness...oh, Mulder, just tell me what the 
hell's going on!"
	"Nothings going on, Scully-"
	"What is it with you, Mulder?  What's changed?  Why are you being so 
damn overprotective?  I can't do my job if you won't tell me what's 
going on!  You're not keeping me safe by putting me in the dark, Mulder, 
you're just putting me in more danger!"
	Mulder grimaced.  "I'm sorry, Scully...I just can't tell you yet."
	Scully stared at him, her eyes beginning to well with tears.  "Don't 
you trust me?"
	Mulder reached out and grabbed her hand.  "Of course I trust you, 
Scully."
	"Then why won't you tell me?"
	Immediately feeling guilty, Mulder unbuckled himself and stood up.  
"I'm leaving.  See you later, Scully."
	Scully stood up, furious. "Dammit, Mulder, don't you-"
	"Scully, no!" he shouted, his eyes panicked. "Sit down!"
	Scully ignored him, though thoroughly confused.  "Mulder, what's the
matter with-"	
	Her words were lost as a thunderous noise shook the train.  Falling,
jabbing his thigh into the armrest, he crashed into Scully, who flew 
backwards against the side of the train, hitting her head on the window 
and
slumping to the ground.
	Mulder could only manage an anguished "Scully!" before he was thrown
backwards against another row of chairs, groaning loudly as the chairs 
dug
into his back.  The lights flickered on, then off, then on again, before
finally staying off.  
	"Scully?" Mulder called again, as the car jolted again and he was 
thrown over the seats, twisting his leg and finding himself trapped 
under
the seats.  Another jolt lifted him off the floor, but as he fell he hit 
his head on the wall, and slammed into the ground, unconcious.

	Scully awoke with a big headache.  Sitting up dazedly, she rubbed
her head and realized with a start that her hair was soaked with warm
blood.  I must be cut.  
	Rubbing her neck gingerly, she saw her legs were drenched in blood
as well.  Sitting up gingerly, she realized she was laying in a pool of
blood that was not hers. 
	Mulder.
	Getting up as fast as she could without passing out, she rushed to
where Mulder lay, still unconcious.  Blood rushed from several gashes in 
his back, as well as a large opening in his thigh.
	Checking his pulse, she sighed with relief when she found a faint but
steady one, and him breathing.  Sternly stopping herself from hugging 
him, she took off her sweater and wrapped it around his thigh, hoping 
she was applying enough pressure to stop the blood.  Turning him over on 
his back, she opened the stood up and was glad to find a medical kit 
standing relatively undamaged on the floor several yards away.  
	Retreiving it, Scully bandaged the wounds on his back.  But grimaced
when she realized she didn't have enough tape to dress the long cut on 
his
hand.
	Biting her lip when as she examined the long scar on his beautiful 
hand, Scully stopped the bleeding the best she could, gently pressing 
his 
pressure point.  She sat, pondering what to do about the rest of it.
	Yanking off her shoe, she slipped off a smile white sock, and made a
makeshift wrap.
	Sliding down on the floor next to him, pulling his relatively
un-harmed head into her lap, she didn't even realize when she passed 
out.
	
	Mulder slowly drifted back into conciousness, not seeing or
hearing, but feeling warm wetness on his cheeks.  
	Slowly becoming awake, Mulder ran a hand across his face, and realized 
that the wetness on his face was blood.
	Sitting up, he found his aching body wrapped and bandaged, and Scully
sleeping beside him.
	Realizing that she had gotten up and bandaged him, and then probably
passed out before attending to her own wounds, he dizzily stood up, then 
took her in his arms. 
	Laying her out before him, ripping off the remains of his coat to
cushion her, he was reaching for a cloth to wipe the blood from her head
when she woke up.
	"Mulder, I..." She whispered, blinking uselessly as her world refused
to come into focus. 
	"Shhh, it's okay."  He whispered.  "I'm just taking care of your
head.  If you want to, you can go back to sleep."
	Not wanting to seem weak, but desperately wanting to close her eyes
and escape the pain her head was causing her, Scully whispered so only 
she
could hear.  I'm sorry.
	Relieved she had decided to go back to sleep, wondering what she had
said in that last little rush of breath, Mulder gently wiped her head of
the sticky blood.  He reached for the band-aids (and boy was he going to
need a big one) and realized there were none left.  
	She had used them all on him.
	"Scully," he complained softly, not wanting to wake her.  Ripping
off a bandage from a relatively minor wound, he tore off the bloody part
and used the clean part to wrap to press against her head.  Wondering
what he could do for a wrap, he looked at his own hand, he recognized
a little white sock he determined was his partners.
	His own socks would be too small for her whole head, and undoubtably
too smelly, so he grudgingly removed his flannel and wrapped in around 
her
head.
	"Two treatments for the price of one," Mulder teased the still sleeping 
Scully, wondering what she'd say when she saw he'd used his only 
remaining shirt, and now wore only his bare skin.  Probably nothing.  
After all, it was Scully.

end part 2.

3/4


	No one had come.
	It had been at least six hours, and nobody had come for them, Mulder 
thought uncertainly.  
	"The conducter must have radiod for help," Mulder reasoned.  He had 
been out for most of the time, but his watch was working fine, and it 
was now almost two oclock.  He had tried to open the door once, but it 
hadn't given way at the slightest touch, and he didn't want to wake 
Scully by barging through the sticking door.  Besides, he couldn't do 
anything without her, anyway.
	Sliding Scully off of his lap, he stood up and made his way to the 
front of the train car.  His body was aching, but he paid little 
attention to it, concerned only about finding a radio.  Reaching into 
his blood-stained trench coat, he pulled out his cell phone.  Broken.
	Walking back to Scully, he debated whether or not it was best to try 
and find her cell-phone.  He shouldn't mover her, she probably had a 
concussion...but the quicker he called, the quicker he could get her 
help.
	Searching her coat, he found nothing.  Not wanting to invade her 
personal space, especially with her unconcious, he uneasily reached his 
hand into her baggy jeans pocket.
	Scully stirred, feeling his warm hands on her.  
	"Mulder?" She asked uneasily, lifting her head up.  
	Making a monumental effort not to blush, Mulder said contolledly, "Cell 
phone, Scully?"
	Scully pointed to where the cell-phone lay in a burnt, tisted mass 
under the seat.  "Broken."
	Scully moved to sit up.
	"No, Scully, sit back down.  You might have a concussion..."
	Scully shook her head.  "I'm fine, Mulder.  You're the one I should be 
worried about.  You lost an awful lot of blood..."
	Mulder helped her up.  "I'm a big boy."
	Scully sighed.  "So, how do things stand?"
	Mulder shrugged.  "well, it's been about six hours since the train 
crashed, and no one's come.  Both our cell-phones are broken, and I was 
about to check the conducters room."
	"I'm coming with you."  Scully stated stubbornly.
	Knowing he wasn't going to win this argument, Mulder took her arm and 
they worked their way towards the door.  Jiggling the handle, Mulder 
found it was more than just stuck.  
	"Stand back," Mulder said, and kicked the door vicously several times, 
but it wouldn't budge.
	"Well, it looks like we'll have to go through the window," he said as 
took a peice of metal and threw it at the largest window, all the while 
cursing his bad luck; they didn't need one of them getting hurt jumping 
the long way down.  Knocking out the rest of the glass with his hand, he 
climbed through the window and jumped down, managing to add a twisted 
ankle to his growing list of injuries.
	Catching Scully, they both turned around and got one of the biggest 
shocks of their lives.

	"There's only one train car."  Scully said, her voice panicking.  
	"Look," Mulder said, pointing to where a large peice of wood had been 
put between the one train car and the coducter's room.  "It's been 
jammed."
	Running as fast as he could with his ankle twisted, Mulder reached the 
door to the conducters room a few feet ahead of Scully.  Yanking the 
door open, Mulder took a quick look around and turned to Scully.  "He's 
gone."
	Scully took a deep breath and asked, "You know what this means, don't 
you?"
	"Yeah," Mulder snarled.  "This was planned."
	"It also means," Scully's voice trembled as she looked at the miles and 
miles of mountains and forests surrounding them.  "It also means that 
help's not coming."

	"Mulder?"  Scully called almost a half hour later.  She had been 
searching the conducter's room for things they might need on their long 
trek out of here, and she was wondering how Mulder was doing.
	"What?" He called back, almost finished searching.
	"Did you find anything?"
	He completed his search and joined Scully in the other car.  "A 
flashlight, a bloody sweater, a package of sunflower seeds, and what's 
left of the first aid kit.  They didn't do a great job of cleaning out, 
but our suitcases are gone."
	"Same here, only I found a package of potato chips, some 
cigarettes...for heat, Mulder..., a whistle which I have no idea what we 
can use for, and a half of a roast beef sandwich.  And I found this."
	Scully produced a backpack, which Mulder took with one hand.  It had 
nothing in it...except for a case of gunshells.
	"Someone's helping us, Scully."
	"Yes," Scully agreed.  "That's why I want to look around a little more.  
Let's switch cars, and research them."
	Dumping their stuff into the packpack, they turned to their respective 
train cars and began to search.  Mulder was nearly finished when he 
heard Scully's triumphant shout.
	Walking to the other car, he found her holding up a couple of water 
containers, as well as two juice boxes and several slabs of frozen meat.
	Mulder felt a rush of relief, partially from the sight of the food and 
drink, but mostly from the certainty that someone outside was helping 
them.  
	"Did you hear that, Mulder?"  Scully said suddenly.  "Shh."
	They stood still for about five minutes, when suddenly a gunshot rang 
out, and one of the windows shattered.  
	Grabbing the food and stuffing it into the backpack, the two of them 
rushed from the train car and into the woods.  No more gunshots rang 
out, but the sound of their pulse beating and their lungs strangling for 
breath marred any sound from reaching their ears.  They ran for almost 
half an hour, the gunshots becoming less and less frequent.
	"Mulder..." Scully gasped behind him.  "I need...to stop..for...
breath."
	Mulder nodded, leaning against a tall tree.  His face was white from 
dehydration, as was Scully's, but neither of them moved for the water 
bottle, each certain they needed to save it.
	Neither of them said a word, two busy getting their breath back and 
worrying about what they were going to do.
	After about fifteen minutes, Mulder stood and motioned to Scully. "Come 
on, let's get moving." 

	They walked and walked, Mulder usually staying six or seven yards ahead 
of Scully, looking ahead while Scully watched their backs.  Neither one 
spoke; their walk was more of a slow jog, and they needed to save their 
breath lest their mysterious gunman show up again.
	Mulder shifted uneasily, hurrying his gait a little bit.  He didn't 
have a clue to where the shooter had gone, he wanted to hurry up, but 
Scully's face grew paler and sicklier by the minute.  Despite their 
relatively slow pace, she was struggling for breath.  He wanted to slow 
down, find out what was wrong, something, but she'd bite his head off.  
Literally.
	They had been walking for almost four hours before Mulder heard a faint 
whimper.  "Mulder..."	
	Spinning around, he spotted Scully just in time to see her collapse a 
few yards behind him.
	Checking her pulse and finding it, Mulder scooped her into his arms, 
and continued up the trail, not wanting to stop.  She seemed light in 
his arms, but as the minutes passed, she seemed to grow heavier and 
heavier.  
After going about a hundred yards, his arms where aching and his back 
was going into spasms, but he didn't put her down.  She hadn't woken up 
yet.
	Mulder looked down as her little hand tightened it's grip on his shirt.  
Her face rolled to one side, crumpled with pain.	
	"Shh," he whispered, stopping momentarily to soothe her.  "It's okay."
	Blinking sleepily, Scully muttered, "Mulder?  What's going on?"
	"You collapsed.  I've been carrying you."
	Scully muttered something, embarassed.  "Let me down, Mulder."
	Mulder shook his head.  "You need to save your strength."
	"So do you!"  Scully retorted, and beat her hands lightly on his chest.  
"Let me down, Mulder."
	As he lowered her to the ground, she asked uncertainly, "Any signs of 
whoever shot at us back at the train?"  She stiffly climbed a rock to 
look, partly because she wanted to see how far they'd come, partly she 
wanted to show Mulder she was at least capable of walking.
	Mulder shook his head.  "I think we lost him.  We left our stuff there, 
though, our jackets.  And half the gunshells."
	"Dammit.  At least he'll think we got out okay."
	"You mean, he'll know we had help and assume we got a ride out of here?  
Maybe.  But I sure wish we had those shells."
	Turning back to the trail, Scully suddenly realized something.  
"Mulder, do you know how much blood you lost?  I bet they think you were 
hurt so badly our 'helper' 'coptered you out of here."
	With a little bit of optimism begining to rise, Mulder countered, 
"Maybe he isn't after us anymore, but we still have to find our way our 
of these mountains and back to civilization."  
	Scully sighed.  Wasn't she supposed to be the pessimist?  "Let's just 
hike until it gets dark and build a lean-to.  We'll just keep going 
until we find something."
	Mulder shrugged wearily.  "What about food?"
	"There's probably some small game around here.  And we do have a little 
food left.  We'll just have to ration it."
	Mulder sighed.  "Let's get going."
	Scully stood up, ignoring the arm Mulder extended to her, and only 
giving a frusterated sigh when he parted the bushes for her.  She hoped, 
dear god she hoped, that an overprotective spell wasn't coming on.

	They walked farther into the woods, keeping talk minimal.  Mulder's 
long legs carried him faster than Scully, and soon she was panting, 
trying to keep up.  
	She sighed when she saw he had stopped to stare at something below him, 
and approached him quietly.  He glanced back at the sound of her 
footsteps.
	"Mulder!" she protested when he grabbed her arm, but quieted when she 
saw the view.  
	A river flowed in front of them.
	It was magnificent.  Under the setting sun, the river glowed black.  
Where color could be seen, it was blood red, from the moss beneath the 
river's surface.  Steam rose from the river as the warm water met the 
now frosty air.  
	"Rio de Traicion," Mulder breathed.  
	"River of what?"  Scully asked.
	"River of betrayal," he answered.  "In the northwest, there are many 
rivers which indians used.  Some were considered sacred, however, for 
certain reasons.  This one was considered cursed by the Indian's and 
'devil water' by the people who followed because of the reddish water.  
Some tribes used to toss in the bodies of their enemies.
	"When the Spanish came, they observed the customs.  They thought naming 
it the river of blood, or death, but they figured it would scare others 
away.  So they named it the River of Betrayal, and followed Indian 
customs by throwing any traitors, or any one deemed a traitor by the 
ruling governmrnt into it...alive."
	Scully shivered.  "We'd better get going..."
	Mulder nodded.  "Yeah, I guess we'd better...but it's an incredible 
sight, don't you think?"
	"Yes," she agreed quickly, drawing her arms around herself.  The 
river...well, it gave her the creeps.  "How is it that no one comes to 
see it?"
	Mulder shrugged.  "That's another part of the legend.  It was said that 
a Spanish comander befriended the Indians, and bought food and clothes 
from them for several winters.  Then, one time, he cheated them, and the 
next time he came, he and his followers mysteriously vanished."
	Scully grinned.  "Now I understand why you know all this."
	Mulder smiled back, then grabbed her hand and pulled her along the side 
of the river towards where the forest opened out into a series of hills.   
		
	They walked again until nightfall, Scully having no fainting spells and 
becoming annoyed with Mulder's hovering.  She knew that he was injured 
worse than she was, but he still wanted to carry her, or at least 
support her, and he had off-handedly offered to carry, "the larger 
sticks".  The heavier ones.  Like she couldn't carry them herself.
	"Mulder!" She exploded finally.  "Would you cut it out?  For godsakes, 
I'm not crippled!  I can gather sticks without killing myself!"
	Mulder backed off, shocked.  "Am I that bad?"
	Scully calmed down only a little.  "Yes!  You are!  Now, leave me 
alone!"
	Mulder muttered something, slightly embarassed, and turned to gather 
logs.  Spinning on her heel, Scully turned and fell on the pile of 
sticks Mulder had been gathering, smacking her face on the ground and 
giving herself a bloody nose.  
	At her little cry, Mulder turned around.  "Scully, are you allr-"
	"Yes, Mulder, I'm fine!" Scully cut him off, face red and hand to her 
nose.  Her voice trailed away as she stalked off.  "Just fine."

	Mulder grunted as he broke a large log over the knee on his good leg.  
Had he really been overprotective.  Well, fine, yes, but she had fainted 
on him!  Come on!  That was cause for a little overprotectiveness, and 
she could have at least told him to back off nicely before she bit his 
head off!
	Well, she didn't exactly bite me head off, Mulder thought a little 
guiltily.  I'll just stay out of her way for a little while.
	Coming back to the pile of logs, he noticed movement in the bushes.  
Positive Scully had gone in the other direction, Mulder froze in fear, 
before realizing his 'stalker' was a button nosed little bunny.  His 
hand still wrapped around his gun, Mulder just couldn't do it... he 
couldn't bring himself to shoot the poor thing.  
	BANG!  Mulder felt a bullet whiz by him, and the rabbit collapsed to 
the ground.  Spinning around, he saw Scully smiling triumphantly, 
laughing when she saw the color green his face turned when he saw the 
dead, bleeding bunny.
	Not caring what she thought of him, Mulder whispered hoarsely, "I had a 
rabbit in school, y'know.  I really liked the little fellow."
	Scully's faced softened.  "Mulder..."
	His face turned away from hers, he grimaced at the dead carcass.  He 
hated killing, even if it was an animal.
	A small, defenseless animal...
	"No, it's okay Scully, we have a dinner now," he croaked, turning away 
from the rabbit.  He had always been a sucker for animals.
	Coming up behind him, Scully put an arm around his waist, her sign of 
forgiveness.  "You're really an animal lover, aren't you?"
	Mulder shrugged.  "They're so...helpless...innocent, I guess.  It makes 
me want to protect them-"  Mulder cut himself off, but Scully spoke the 
words in her head she knew he was thinking.
	To make up for the innocent creature I didn't protect...
	Neither of them said a word, as they recalled the outside world, taking 
a minute to think of the people that were probably out there searching 
for them...and those that weren't.	
	He had to break the silence, he couldn't stand it.  He couldn't afford 
to think about Samantha, not now, when one false move could land them 
shot in a ditch or torn to peices by wolves, at the very least.
	"Bet you sympathize with them, huh?"  Mulder joked.  Scully's soft 
smile was his reward, and when he turned around, he saw the leanto was 
almost completetly biult.  Adding a few sticks to the leanto, he started 
a fire and crawled in.
	Scully stayed outside a while longer, skinning the rabbit and making 
sure to get rid of the bloody remains so they wouldn't attract any wild 
animals.
	Coming inside with a handful of rabbit meat for them both, she gave 
Mulder a handful of meat, and plopped down next to him.
	Mulder made a face.  "God, Scully, this is worse than your usual 
cooking."
	Scully gave him a mock-angry look.  "Eat or be starving, Mulder."
	Taking a bite out of hers, she ingored Mulder's astonished looks.  "How 
can you eat this stuff?"
	Scully shrugged.  "Go with it, Mulder."
	Mulder grinned.  "I'm serious, Scully, this stuff is awful."  But his 
rumbling stomach persisted and he took a small taste.  His mouth twisted 
in disgust, then he swallowed and smiled at her.  "Mmm, tastes like 
chicken."
	Scully grinned.  "My brothers taught me how to hunt.  I cried the first 
time they shot a rabbit.  Actually, all I ever shot at was snakes.  That 
was the first time I've shot and killed a rabbit, ever."
	Mulder rubbed his shoulder, even though the pain from that wound was 
long gone.  "Now I sypathize with them." 
	Scully shot him a Look. 
	Mulder shrugged.
	They were silent for a long time, a quiet peacefulness surrounding them 
that neither had felt for a long time, despite the peril they faced.  
The warmth of one another kept the cold away, but Scully felt the need 
to talk to him.  He always opened up to her when they were alone, on a 
stake out or somewhere like this.  She remembered, in the hotel room, 
all those years ago-
	No, she wanted to tell him.  Tell him that she was human, she got 
scared like any one else.  He knew it, but she had never admitted it, 
and Scully suspected that's where his overportectiveness came from.  She 
wanted to tell him, but how?  Without embarassing herself or bursting 
into tears?
	"Are you afraid of dying, Mulder?"  Scully asked finally.  
	Mulder turned to her, a little startled.  "Didn't you ask me that 
question once?"
	Scully shook her head.  "I asked you if you thought about dying.  But 
are you afraid of it?  Are you afraid of going out on a lead and never 
coming back, never seeing anyone you know and care about again?"
	Mulder thought for a minute.  "I'm more afraid of living without 
knowing the truth.  If I die, at least I'll know the answer to what my 
life's been about, the answer to all the questions I've had since I was 
twelve."
	Scully sighed.  "I'm more afraid of death itself.  When I was taken, 
when I was...abducted, I didn't remember anything, and that was like 
death to me, having a time I couldn't remember.  When I woke up, it was 
like coming from the dead."
	Mulder put his arm around her.  He knew what it had cost her to admit 
that to him.  
	"Sometimes, when we're on a case that scares me, I'll want to run away. 
Hide somewhere.  Like on that Donnie Pfaster case.  Because cases like 
that...they show me that no matter what I do, there is something out 
there that's after me, and I can't stop it."
	"Why don't you tell me?"
	Scully shrugged.  "Because I'm afraid.  I don't want you to see me when 
I'm weak.  I'm afraid you won't trust me to watch your back, you'll see 
it as too much baggage to bring me along.  I don't want you to stop 
trusting me."	
	Mulder pulled her to him, rested his chin on her head.  "I trust you, 
Scully, more than anything.  I'll always trust you.  Trust in you."
	Scully sighed, nestled herself in Mulder's hold, calm and secure.  "I 
know you do, Mulder."
	Outside the leanto, the last remnants of the fire flickered away, but 
inside, they were allready asleep.
	A figure crawled from the bushes, silent as a wolf.  

	When Scully woke up, she was alone in the leanto, the ground cold and 
hard beneath her.  "Mulder?" she whispered quietly, but no one answered.  
Dragging her aching body off the ground, she called, louder, "Mulder?"
	"Out here," A hoarse voice answered, and she ducked out of the leanto.  
There sat Mulder, poking a stick in the still burning ashes from the 
fire.
	"Mulder?"  Scully asked, following his gaze to a set of footprints on 
the ground.  
	"They're not the type of shoes you're wearing, and they're way to small 
to be mine."
	Scully gulped.  "He's still here."
	Mulder shook his head.  "I don't think so.  Why didn't he kill us last 
night, then?"
	Scully shrugged.  "Maybe he only wanted to kill one of us?  I'm sure I 
would have woken up had he even touched one of us, let alone kill you or 
me."
	Mulder nodded, accepting her theory.  "In any case, I don't want to let 
you out of my site.  No complaining about overprotectiveness."
	Scully gave a probably uncalled for groan, but nodded.
	"We're sticking together for the rest of this camping trip."
	Scully smiled sweetly, trying to surpress the butterflies who were 
batting up a storm in her stomach.  "Don't we always?"

end part 3...

4/4

	The silent gunman creeped in their stealth, hissing softly as the 
bushes marred his view.  The shot had to be perfect, he had to hit the 
woman.  No harm must come to Mulder.  He had specific orders about that.
	The man looked around, and he dropped back down, using a technique he 
learned at the academy all those years ago.  He kept him self low to the 
ground, and crawled easily to the next bushes, well away from their 
view.
	The wished he could have done it last night.  Those kills were so much 
easier, but he couldn't have done it without waking Mulder.
	He thought about what he would be getting for this.  What his payment 
would be.  Some sort of information about the disease.  He knew so 
little, and they knew so much.  But he doubted anyone knew all of it.  
That's the way the consitorium worked.  In any case, he might find out 
the cure.
	Bullshit.  he thought.  He knew these people.  He'd never get his 
answers.  But he'd keep on trying, keep on serving them.  Because he had 
nothing else.  	
	There, the perfect shot.  Lowering himself into a crouching position, 
he took aim.
	
	"Mulder, what's wrong?"  Scully asked, concerned.
	Mulder shook his head.  "Nothing."  he said loudly, then to her, in a 
voice softer than a whisper, "someone's following us."
	Careful not to show alarm, Scully leaned back to brush a twig off her 
shoulder and got a glance of a moving black glove.
	Reaching into her pocket to get her gun, she twisted slightly so the 
gunner wouldn't be able to see.  
	Fingering the release, she stole another quick glance behind her, noted 
that the figure had moved up about twenty yards.  Mulder slowly pulled 
his gun beside her.
	They walked farther, neither side making a move, neither quite sure if 
the other knew of their awareness to the other's presense.
	"Do you think he's gone?" 
	Bang! 0 
	Mulder jumped in front of Scully, firing rapidly at where the shots had 
come from.  "Scully?"  he whispered.  "Scully??"
	A voice spoke behind him, firmly but softly.  "The bullet barely grazed 
me, Mulder.  Go get him.  I'm...I'm fine."
	Nodding, not even looking back, Mulder raced off into the woods, not 
slowing until he reached a cover, and glanced over the limb of a tree to 
try and spot the shooter.
	Taking one step, then another, Mulder thought frantically.  Where is 
he?  He quickened his pace as he barged through the bushes, glancing 
every which way, but his desperate attempts to find the shooter went 
unrewarded.
	Mulder heard a ruffling in the bushes behind him, spun around as his 
finger tightened on the trigger.
	Think, Mulder, think.  He told himself.  
	The shot had come from that way, he was sure, from the bushes behind 
Scully...
	Scully.
	He's not after me, he's after her.	
	Mulder raced back the way he had came, plowing through bushes and small 
trees, willing his feet to move faster and faster, even though they were 
going as fast as they had ever gone before.
	Praying he wasn't to late, he slowed his steps as he approached the 
clearing, not noticing the gunner until he stumbled upon him. 
	The assasin gave a startled grunt, then raised his gun to fire a kill 
shot at Mulder.  Too late.
	Mulder shot several rounds into his head, even after the first one had 
struck and killed him.  He continued to fire, until a little hand 
grasped his arm and a little arm slid around his waist.
	"He's dead, Mulder," Scully's voice whispered into his side.  
	"What do you think he is, Mulder?" Scully asked wearily.  "Hired gun?" 
	"I don't think so," Mulder muttered, kneeling down beside the corpse.  
He gingerly rolled him over, carefully keeping his hands away from the 
man's bloodstained chest.  Her slowly lifted the man's arm, and showed 
it to Scully.
	Imprinted on the dirty flesh was a small-pox vacination scar.

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

	"Look out!" Scully shouted suddenly, and Mulder pulled his gun and 
dropped to the ground.
	Scully fired into the trees; once, twice.  It gave a short cry of pain 
and dropped to the ground.
	Mulder stood up slowly.  He walked a few meters into the woods, gave a 
little smile.  The man lay on the ground, injured but not dead.  He 
nudged the man with his foot, and he rolled over.
	"Who are you?" he demanded.  The other did not answer.
	Mulder bit his lip, started to walk away, then spun around and kicked 
him hard in the leg.  
	"John."
	Mulder waved his gun.  "John what?"
	"John Doe."
	Mulder nodded.  "Funny.  Really funny.  And it's going to be even more 
funny when I blast your brains out for shooting my partner."
	The man sniffed wearily, wiped blood from his nose.  "Wasn't me."
	"Sure it wasn't."
	They both remained silent for a matter of minutes.  Scully walked 
quietly behind Mulder, her gun ready as well.  
	"What did you want with us?" Mulder growled.  When he still got no 
answer, he took his gun and fired two shots into the man's leg.  The 
first shot when in, and the other howled in pain, the second deflected 
off of something and skimmed Mulder's forearm.
	Mulder grunted with pain and shifted the gun to his other hand.  
"Talk."
	He kicked the man in the side, kicked him again, over and over.  The 
man curled into a fetal position to ward off further blows.  Mulder 
grabbed his arm away from his side and punched him twice in the rib 
cage.  He put his fists around the man's throat, shoved his head into 
the ground.  "Talk!"  
	"You--like---to choke people---don't you?"
	"TALK!"
	He tightened his grip around the man's troat.
	"You---had---injected," the man gasped when Mulder finally let go. 
Mulder kicked him in the side, and he curled over again.  "When you 
were... Russia...you got injected...with black cancer..."
	Scully looked over at him, her eyes wide, "oh, god..."
	Mulder took a deep breath.  "What does that have to do with this?"
	The man coughed.  "You---escaped...they didn't know you were 
injected...so they let you free..."
	Mulder shook his head.  "Why now?"
	"Black cancer...spreads if not properly treated..."
	"I was told there wasn't a cure."
	The man grinned.  "Die.  That's the cure..."
	Mulder kicked him again.  "So they tried to kill me because the black 
cancer will spread.  How did they find out I was injected with it?"
	"Man...told them...please, stop kicking!"
	Mulder sat down on a nearby rock, rested his head in his hands and 
closed his eyes.  Blood from the gunshot would dripped from his jacket 
onto his jeans.  "Tell me."  
	The man was quiet.  
	"Tell me who told them you son of a bitch!"  Mulder swore, raising his 
fist.  Scully put a hand on his shoulder.
	"Who?" she demanded.
	"Man named Krychek."
	Mulder's eyes flew open in surprise.  "What?"
	Before he could react, the man grabbed his gun, fired two shots at 
Scully, and then one at himself.
	
*	*	*	*	*	*	*	*	*	*	*	*	*

	As they walked, there was mostly silence, save the snapping off the dry 
twigs beneath their feet, and the rustle of the wind as it blew past the 
trees.  Mulder needed to talk to Scully, but she seemed pale from fever 
and shock.
	The bullets aimed at Scully had gone wide, thank god, but the man's aim 
had been perfect when the gun was pointed at himself.
	Mulder clutched at his injured arm, having nothing to stop the blood 
flow.  It wasn't serious, but it would need to be cleaned up soon before 
it got infected.  
	His mind swam with the events of the past hour.  
	Black cancer spreads if not properly treated.
	Die.  That's the cure.
	His teeth clenched and unclenched as he tried to decide what to say to 
Scully.  Was she hurt?  Or was she afraid of him?  The cancer he 
carried?
	His fingers moved to the scar on his forearm.  He rubbed it gingerly, 
then dropped his hand and shuddered.  "Scully, I-"
	"Look," Scully interrupted, pointing at the sky.  "It's going to rain."

	They had gone a few hundred more yards before the sky opened up and it 
started to pour.  Scully knew they wouldn't get very far...it would only 
be a matter of time before Mulder slipped and broke his other ankle.  
But she wasn't going to stop until Mulder said to...after all, she 
reasoned, if I'm shivering wet in three coats, imagine how he must feel.  
I'm not going to burden him any more.
	Her head ached with worry and fear.  She was afraid for her partner.  
She needed to talk with him, needed to have him reassure her that he was 
fine.  But every time he tried to talk, she would stop him, change the 
subject.  She was being irrational, but she couldn't stand to be 
anything else.
	Scully plodded on, keeping her eye on her partner, who's wet hair was 
plastered to his forhead by a mixture of sweat and rain.  He glanced 
back at her, throwing a worried grin and a, "How you holding up, 
Scully?"
	"Fine," She breathed back.  "Just fine."  
	For the thousandth time, she cursed rainy California weather.  If it 
was possible, it started to rain even harder, and lighting flashed in 
the distance.
	Scully shuddered, wrapping her soaked arms around herself.  She bit her 
lip as lightning struck again, and she stumbled clumsily over the muddy, 
rocky ground.
	Trying to divert her mind from her cold, soggy body, she though instead 
of her mother.  How she must feel, worried that this time it would be 
her other daughter leaving forever.  She had lost her husband, her 
daughter...how much more could she take.  How much more could Scully ask 
her to take?  Scully vowed never to risk the life of her brother's or 
their children.  They would probably never be at risk anyway, but she 
couldn't let her mother lose anyone else.
     	Another flash assured her the storm was indeed getting closer, but 
she had seen something in the distance...
	"Mulder?"  She called out to him as he reached the top of the hill.  He 
turned around, and Scully stepped back in shock.  His face was paler 
than she'd ever seen it, and slick with rain.  Wet locks of hair hung 
loosely around his face, but his eyes...they were dull and glazed.  
Scully knew he was about to pass out.
	Mulder started to walk again as Scully ran to catch up.  "Mulder, 
wait!"  She called, but it was late.
	Tripping suddenly, Mulder didn't have the strength to keep himself 
upright.  Instead, he toppled down the hill, striking his head on the 
stump of a tree.
	"Mulder!"  Scully screamed as she ran to his unmoving body.  Another 
flash of lighting told her she had been right, the object in the 
distance was a house.
	Not now, Mulder.  Don't die on my now.  Not when we have a chance.
	Scully yanked up his body, threw his arms around her shoulder.  His 
head sagged against her, and his entire lower body dragged on the 
ground.
Scully knew she needed to get him indoors.
	Hurrying herself every step of the way, Scully dragged him almost a 
mile in the freezing ran.  Convinced she was about to pass out herself, 
she let out a strangled, "help!"  
	No one answered.  The lights were off in the house, and she realized, 
to her horror, that meant the doors were locked.  Lowering Mulder as 
gently to the ground as she could, she rushed up the stairs, more than 
once tripping over a step and sprawling to the hard concrete.
	"Help!" She screamed, louder this time, as she pounded against the 
door.  Realizing she couldn't get in, she ran back to Mulder.
	Oh, God... Scully though when she reached his body.  Oh, God, no...
	Mulder had no pulse.  The rain beat down harder, the inpenitrable house 
loomed in front of them like a fortress.  They were both as good as 
dead.

end.