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This author's e-mail address has changed to: alasdair.mclean@ntlworld.com
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Newsgroups: alt.tv.x-files.creative
From: mcleana@btinternet.com (Alasdair T. McLean)
Subject: New Story - Friendly Fire 1/3
Date: Fri, 5 May 1995 10:18:17 GMT


X - Files.

Friendly Fire.



The Truth Is Out There.



	Written by Alasdair T. McLean using characters created by C. Carter and
Ten Thirteen Productions. The character of Jackie St. George who is
briefly mentioned was created by Sheryl Martin. No copyright infringement
or offence is intended.  Will McCormack, Section 10, InterChem, the Storm
Project and a few other characters created by myself and copyrighted 1995.



This is set shortly after the events in 'Fire'.



7:55pm.

Washington D.C.



	Special Agent Mulder was not having a good day.  He hadn't gotten a wink
of sleep the night before, and had spent the first two hours that morning
in Assistant Director Skinner's office trying to explain why he had used
non-conventional methods in an investigation, again.  The rest of the day
had progressed along similar lines.  Just before lunch a friend of his had
called to tell him that his answering machine was not working and it had
taken him about twenty minutes of arguing with the phone company to
persuade them to reroute his calls to his mobile phone.  



	When the day was finally over he and Scully decided to grab a meal
before she dropped him at his apartment.  The dinner was about the only
thing that had went right for either of them that day.  Scully's lap-top
had decided to creatively malfunction, erasing about twenty pages worth of
notes, plus she too had been subjected to Skinner's tongue-lashing about
following bureau operating procedures, albeit separately from Mulder



	The two partners sat in Scully's car, a comfortable silence in the air
between them.  After the day they'd had neither one felt like talking. 
Pulling to a stop at a red light Dana closed her eyes briefly, grateful
for the fact that in about a hour  or so she would be able to sink into a
nice warm bath and forget about the world, about Skinner, about the
suspension he'd threatened them with, about the X - Files, about
everything.



	Mulder's cell-phone chose that moment to ring loudly from his jacket
pocket.  He had the grace to look apologetic as he flipped it open saying,
"Mulder."  He glanced at Scully, an annoyed frown on his face, "Must've
been a wrong number."



	Scully said nothing, but seeing the light change to amber and then
green, put the car back in gear and drove on.



	Mulder's phone rang again, just as he was about to drop it back into his
pocket, "This better not be another wrong number," he muttered to himself
before he pressed the button, "Mulder."



	"Thank God!  Is Dana with you?" the voice on the other end of the line
sounded extremely relieved to hear Mulder's voice.  It belonged to Will
McCormack, a Special Investigator with Section 10, a semi-secret branch of
the British Ministry of Defence charged with the investigation of
paranormal events.  He had worked with the two F.B.I. agents before, both
officially and unofficially.  Mulder knew that there was more to his Scots
friend than met the eye, he just wasn't sure what it was.  McCormack was
normally calm, and almost unflappable, this was the most emotional Mulder
had ever heard him.



	"Yes, she's here." he answered, and then to Scully, "It's Will."  When
she waved absently in his direction he added, "Scully says hi."



	"Mulder, listen to me!  You have to leave the country now.  And, I mean
now!"  McCormack didn't stop for breath.  "You and Scully have to dump the
car and get a taxi to Dulles.  Go to the British Airways counter, and ask
for a package for Mr and Mrs Bennett.  You'll find two British diplomatic
passports under the names of Mr Jamie Bennet and Mrs Katherine Bennet,
they'll allow you to bypass the airport security without checking your
guns.  There will also be two coach tickets for flight BA 243 to London
direct.  Do not go home, or call anyone, either of you!"



	"What?" Mulder was stunned, still reeling from the rapid-fire stream of
orders, "Why?"



	At that moment both partners saw the sky roughly in the direction of
Mulder's apartment light up.  Less than a second later they heard the
explosion.



	Mulder was speechless, that was my apartment..



	"MULDER!" Will screamed over the phone line.



	In the distance Mulder spotted one of Washington's yellow cabs, "Scully,
pull over, now!" he shouted.



	Stunned, Scully did as she was told, "Mulder, what?"



	"I'll tell you later," he said quickly, getting out of the car and
hailing the taxi.  Scully had popped her door and was staring at him as if
he'd sprouted horns.  "In the taxi, quickly."



	It took Dana Scully less than a second to decide what to do.  He was her
partner, daily they trusted their lives to each other.  Besides, if he was
just being paranoid she could always tease him about it later.



	Before she got in the cab, she locked and alarmed her car.

	

11:21am.

Glasgow International Airport.  Scotland.



	Will McCormack stood among the other people waiting for friends or
relatives from the Northwest flight that had been due in, he checked his
watch - one hour and twenty minutes ago.  Checking the TV screens on the
ceiling he found that the flight he was waiting on had just arrived and
the passengers were only just now debarking.  Sure enough when he shoved
the book he had been reading into his pocket started to push through the
crowd towards the exit from the customs area a garbled announcement came
over the airports P.A. system.  Despite the fact that the airport had
recently been done up it was still almost impossible to translate the
message.  Will understood only one word, Toronto.



	He checked his watch again, nervous.  There had been no way to check
that they had made it to the airport, that Steve had been able to make
contact and get them to Canada, that they had actually gotten on the plane
in Toronto.  He prayed to God that they had.  He didn't want to think what
might have happened if they had missed the flight.



	His friends would both be dead.



	"Bugger this!"  None of the passengers had yet emerged from Customs so
Will pushed his way through the crowd and past the customs officer
standing by the exit from the inspection point.  He flashed his M.o.D. ID
card at the stunned officer, saying, "S.10.!" as he ran through the
inspection point and out into the cavernous baggage claim area that was
just beginning to fill with passengers.



	None of whom he recognised.



	"Mr Simmons!" he shouted using the name that had been on the passport
he'd obtained for Mulder when he finally spotted his face in the sea of
people, "Ms Cartwright!"  He saw Mulder's head snap round when he heard
the familiar voice.  Both agents looked more than a little ragged from the
trip.



	"What's going on, Will?"  Mulder asked, a puzzled look on his face.



	Scully said nothing, she simply looked annoyed, even more so when Will
embraced them both like long-lost friends.  Embarrassed and angry, she
pushed away from him.  "What's with all the cloak and dagger."



	"Not here," was all McCormack said as he led them out of customs and the
airport to the space where his car, a black Citroen XM, was parked.



*		*		*



	"You want to tell us what's going on?"  Mulder asked again once they
were in Will's car and driving away from the airport.



	"Sure,"  McCormack sounded a lot calmer now than he had, either in the
airport and on the phone earlier, "First: are you both still carrying?"



	"Yeah," Mulder reached for his sidearm, expecting to be told to hand it
over to the British Investigator.



	"Glove compartment."



	Mulder obediently opened the small compartment and withdrew six magazines of 

ammunition, three for each of them.  He passed three to Scully who was
looking less and less angry and more concerned with each moment.



	"You've stepped on some very important toes this time, Mulder,"  Will began.



	"So what else is new?" Mulder quipped, he could feel Scully glaring at
him from the back seat.



	"This time, Mulder, it's a little bit more than your usual.  If .....," 
Will's cell-phone rang.  "McCormack speaking. ...... Hi, Jackie. .......
Yep, they made it. ...... Thanks for the assist.  I'll see that the
Section reimburses you as soon as this is all sorted."  He laughed briefly
at something the other person said, "You too.  Stay safe, St. George."  
Replacing the 'phone in his pocket he said, "Two bodies have been found in
the wreckage of your apartment, Mulder.  They've been identified as F.B.I.
Agents Fox Mulder and Dana Scully.  That little ruse, courtesy of some
friends of mine Stateside ought to buy us a few days."



	"Stop the car, Will.  Now!"  There was iron in Dana's voice.



	Will pulled over into the hard shoulder of the motorway and turned round
to face her, "Ask away."



	"Who blew up Mulder's apartment, and how did you know about it?  And
what bodies?"



	"Good questions,"  McCormack didn't hesitate before answering, "A while
ago you screwed up an operation that was being run out of Whitehall.  Due
to the nature of the X-files cases, my guess is that it was M.I. 7 who you
pissed off.  They are the government sanctioned organisation that deals
with the paranormal."



	"I thought that was Section 10's job?" Scully asked, Mulder she noted
was listening intently, committing everything to his photographic memory.



	"No," Will smiled grimly, "Section 10's job is much like yours.  We were
established centuries ago, no one knows quite how long ago exactly.  An
order of knights whose name has vanished from the face of the Earth, our
role was to stand between the 'normal' and the so called paranormal like a
buffer, protecting both."  He paused, "In order to fulfil that role, we've
had to operate against the government too many times.  They brought us
under the jurisdiction of the M.o.D. to try to control us, restrict our
activities.  It isn't nearly as effective as they'd like to believe,
luckily for you two."  



	"M.I. 7, however, operates according to the National Interest." he
looked seriously at Mulder and Scully for a moment before continuing,
"We've acted in conflict with them quite a lot recently.  Mostly in
contravention of the Roswell Protocols.  Anyway, since you helped first
Inspector Green and then myself on at least two occasions directly, when
one of our operatives discovered that you might be in danger I called
Jackie St. George and a couple of other friends of mine and made some
arrangements in case I heard anything definite."



	"And M.I. 7 actually tried to ....," Scully couldn't believe her ears.



	"Kill you both?"  Will grunted, "Believe it."



	"But to operate like that on U.S. soil?"  Mulder's mind was reaching
toward a conclusion that he had feared might be the case for quite some
time, but to get confirmation of his fears in such a graphic manner. 
"They must have had help."



	"Bingo,"  Will cocked his head to one side as if listening for
something, "Jackie is making a few discrete enquiries on your side of the
pond.  I hope she's care.....," his voice trailed off as he concentrated
on something.



	"Will?"  Scully's voice was concerned.



	"Down!" he shouted throwing the car into gear and jamming his foot down
on the accelerator, "Get down!"  The XM leapt out into the traffic as if
it had been stung even as its rear windscreen exploded, showering glass
upon the back shelf, as gunfire tore into the back of the car.



	Scully risked a backward glance out of the remains of the rear
windscreen.  Luckily, no one shot at her.  They wouldn't dare, she
realised, as long as they were moving in traffic among other people,
civilians, but when they were parked on the hard shoulder they had been
vulnerable.  "M.I. 7, I presume?"



	"Or someone hired by them," Will sounded annoyed, "I didn't expect them
to catch up so quickly.  I thought it would take them at least a day. 
Bugger!"



	"You mean I'm not dead anymore?"  Mulder sounded disappointed.



	"'Fraid not," he checked his rear-view mirror, "Damn, they've never
dared to openly move against the Section before.  And they know I'm with
the Ops Directorate."



	"We've got a tail," Scully reported after a quick look out the shattered
back windscreen.



	"Yep, the black Ford Sierra three cars back."  he checked briefly in his
rear view mirror, "They've been with us since my car was ventilated.  We
have two choices.  One: can keep on the motorway, and safe, until we run
out of gas.  Or two: we can try to loose them."



	"This may be a silly time to ask, but I take it you have some idea of
how to discourage these people?"  Mulder's hand went to the reassuring
presence of his weapon, "Other, that is, than from asking them nicely?"



	McCormack looked sheepish, "Actually, no.  I had been concentrating on
getting you two over here safely."  He spotted the exit he had been
waiting for and accelerated up the off-ramp, heading into the
countryside.  The black Sierra remained with them, just as he hoped.  



	"I wonder if this road's still flooded?" he mumbled to himself as he
concentrated on manoeuvring the XM at over eighty miles an hour down what
had quickly become a narrow, winding road.  The Sierra, forced by the lack
of other cars to use as cover became more obvious in its pursuit of them. 
The occupants of the black Ford, free of the worry of hitting by-standers
opened fire.



	Mulder and Scully did the only thing they could do under the
circumstances, they began shooting back in an attempt at spoiling the
increasingly accurate fire from the Sierra.



	McCormack nodded his approval as he threw his car into a hard right
turn, clipping the hedge at the side of the road.  They were at the
beginning of a long straight, and halfway down the stretch of road was, as
he had hoped, badly flooded with at least a foot and a half of water.  "I
hope this works," he muttered to himself as he lowered his left hand to
rest on a small lever by the hand brake.  Pushing his foot down harder on
the accelerator he watched the needle climb over ninety.  "Brace
yourselves!"  he shouted.



	Mulder turned round, and noticing the water they were heading towards,
blanched and said, "Will ...."



	Will's left hand suddenly yanked back on the lever it was resting on. 
And, for a split second it felt almost as if they were flying through the
air.



	Then they hit the water.  It sprayed up all around them, creating an
almost impenetrable curtain on either side.  They could feel the car begin
to hydroplane on the surface of the flood waters, beginning to slide to
one side as McCormack desperately fought for control.



	Almost as suddenly as they had hit the water they were clear.  The car
slowing even as the Sierra hit.  They hadn't seen the flood until the XM
went through it, accelerating.  The Ford's driver decided to see if he
could do the same..... 



	And wasn't as lucky.  When it entered the water the impact was nearly as
bad as if it were a concrete wall and not water.  Muddy liquid exploded
out of the engine space, blowing the bonnet open and flooding the
passenger compartment.



	Once he was certain that they wouldn't be following them any more, Will
accelerated away.  "Heh, I don't believe that actually worked," he
muttered.



	"How did you do that, Will?"  Scully asked, curious.



	"This," he indicated the lever that he now slid back to it's normal
position.  Both agents noticed as the car seemed to hug closer to the road
surface.



	"What, is this car something out of a Bond film?"  Mulder asked, then in
a Sean Connery voice he added, "Double Oh Seven, licensed to drive,
badly."



	"Sorry," Will grinned, "It's a standard feature on all Citroen BX's and
XM's.  Self-levelling suspension, the suspension automatically adjusts the
car's height above the road surface according to speed, but you can
override it.  I jacked the car up to it's highest setting, which when
you're at speed has the rather interesting effect of providing a little
more lift than normal.  So, when we hit the water ....."



	"We hydroplaned over it instead of going right into it.  Brilliant!" 
Mulder laughed.



	"Actually, I think I was just lucky," he confessed.



	"Something tells me that Citroen didn't intend for people to use it
quite the way you just did,"  Scully sounded almost amused.



	"Oh, what gives you that idea?"  Will asked, he had a feeling he knew
what the answer would be.

	"Look at your feet," she leaned forward between the two front seats and
pointed at the space at Mulder's feet.  A large pool of muddy, brown water
was forming there.



	"I hope the Section's insurance covers this,"  Will sighed as he drove
on through the Scottish countryside.






Friendly Fire Part II.

'For Truth is Truth to the end of reckoning' :- Shakespeare


	Written by Alasdair T. McLean using characters created by C. Carter and
Ten Thirteen Productions. The character of Jackie St. George who is
briefly mentioned was created by Sheryl Martin. No copyright infringement
or offence is intended.  Will McCormack, Section 10, InterChem, the Storm
Project and a few other characters created by myself and copyrighted 1995.



This is set shortly after the events in 'Fire', and before Jackie St.
George was exiled from Canada.


6:45pm.

Section 10's Glasgow Office.



	"We'll be safe here," Will McCormack closed the door behind the two
F.B.I. agents after glancing mournfully down at his car, its rear end
peppered with bullet holes.  Why didn't they aim for the tyres? he thought
to himself, They wanted us to escape .... why?  Aloud he said, "They let
us go."



	"What?" Scully couldn't believe what she'd heard.



	"If they wanted you dead all they would have had to do was blow up the
car," what he didn't add was that he would have doubtless have survived
the explosion, "no, it's more than just you two they're after.  What
though?"



	"What makes you so sure that they won't come after us here?"  Mulder asked.



	"Simple," Will looked out of the window, seeing nothing out of the
ordinary did not relax him one little bit, if anything it made him more
paranoid.  The ordinary, the mundane was so often, in their line of work,
what killed them.  "we have an agreement: no open agression against the
other agency."



	"And shooting at you is what?  A mild expression of displeasure?" 
Mulder observed dryly.  He yawned suddenly, the events of the previous two
days catching up on him.  Out of reflex Scully yawned seconds later.



	"They weren't shooting at me," Will answered.  Scully looked as if she
was about to say something, but the phone rang, startling the three agents
into silence.  They all stared at the phone, remembering what had happened
to Mulder's apartment.



	After about a minute Will pushed the speaker phone button, reminding
himself that M.I. 7 would never dare move so openly against the Section,
"10, McCormack speaking."



	"Holy ground, midnight, bring them." a gravelly male voice growled over
the speaker.



	"Who is this?" McCormack asked, the voice raising the hairs on the back
of his neck.



	"Remember, Caliburn," and then the line went dead.



	"And I thought Deep Throat was bad, what was that all about?"  Mulder
asked, looking at Scully to see if she was as confused as he was.  She
nodded, wordlessly.  Another yawn from both of them.



	"Grab some sleep, you two," McCormack looked suddenly tired as he
slumped down into a chair, indicating the couch on the other side of the
office, "I'll wake you at half eleven, plenty of time."



	"First, why did you change the plans on us?"  Scully was looking at him,
anger in her blue eyes, "There was no package for Mr & Mrs Bennet, or a
B.A. flight 243!"



	"Mobile phones aren't that secure, Scully," he explained, "and I hoped
you two would be smart enough to realise when Steve approached you and
called you Bennett that he was your contact."  Will laughed, "As for the
rest of it:  all smoke and mirrors.  Steve flew you to Toronto and
provided you with the Canadian diplomatic passports and Air Canada tickets
that Jackie had dug up for me."



	"Is Steve Section 10?" she asked, finally allowing herself to slip near
to sleep, letting her guard down, trusting that Will would keep watch,
just as he had trusted her with his secret.



	"No, he's a civilian," McCormack remembered his friend, and wondered
what he was doing now, where he was, "but a bloody good pilot.  He's the
only person I trusted enough to get you out of the country safely."



	"Who was on the 'phone?"  Mulder asked, despite his exhaustion and
yawning, not at all sleepy.



	Will looked into his friend's hazel eyes, gently and subtly reaching out
and into Mulder's mind.  Fox Mulder slumped in the couch where he lay
propped up against one armrest, instantly fast asleep.



	Once he was certain that Mulder was asleep Will answered his question
with only a few words, words if they were heard would have caused the two
Americans to wonder how much they could trust him, "M.I. 7."



11:58pm.

Outside Glasgow Cathedral.



	"Why do these things always have to take place at midnight, when it's
raining,"  complained Mulder, looking at the imposing gothic edifice of
the cathedral, its stone walls and towers blackened by the soot that told
of Glasgows history as an industrial city.



	"Not always, Mulder," Will smiled at the memory, "when I was in Toronto,
any time Jackie and I had business to discuss we caught a Blue Jays game."



	"I'll suggest it to Deep Throat," Mulder puched experimentally at the
heavy wooden door of the cathedral, it opened on recently oiled hinges, "I
guess it wouldn't pay to scare the tourists," he muttered, trying to
resist the urge to draw his gun.



	"Why Holy Ground?"  Scully asked, glancing around the foreboding
interior of the church looking for some sign of their contact.



	Will started to answer, but was cut off by the voice of the man who had
called earlier, ordering them to the ancient building at midnight,
"McCormack's people hold Holy Ground sacred, they won't fight on it. 
Oathsworn only fight in defence of the innocent, of mortals.  And, for the
moment at least this ground is sacred to me and mine also."



	Scully, not sensing any danger, and respectfull of the Holy place they
were standing in, holstered her weapon and motioned for Mulder to do the
same, "Who are you?"  She shouted into the darkness, her eyes searching
for some sign of this man who was apparently helping them.



	"M.I. 7,"  Will answered after a moment of silence.



	"Ah so you remember Caliburn, then?" the voice sounded amused.



	"Caliburn should not be ....."  McCormack began, but again was cut off.



	"We are not here to talk about the one true sword of Arthur of Camelot,"
the voice hardened suddenly, "McCormack, you are looking in the wrong
places for enemies.  Who told you M.I. 7 was involved on the attempt of
their lives."



	"You expect me to answer that?" Will's voice was incredulous.



	"I'll tell you then:  it was Inspector Pheobe Green."



	".....,"  McCormack was silent.  Mulder and Scully subtly exchanged glances.



	"And where do you think she obtained the information?"



	"Marsden,"  Will's voice was barely louder than a whisper.



	"You do remember who owns Sir Malcom, do you not?"



	Will's face hardened, "Yes, InterChem," was all he said.



	"Be wary of Storms, Special Investigator McCormack, Agent Mulder, Agent
Scully."	



	"Storms?"  Will's face clouded for a moment with a worried frown, "St.
George!"



	"We shall watch over the Dragon," it almost sounded as if the owner of
the voice was smiling, "we are allies, for now."



	"A frightening prospect," McCormack smiled as he turned to leave.



	"Indeed."



00:45am.

Section 10's Glasgow Office.



	"'Who owns Sir Malcom?'  Sir Malcom Marsden?"  in Dana Scully's mind
some of the pieces were at last falling into place.  A quick glance at her
companions and the expressions on their faces told her that they too were
putting things together, "Isn't InterChem building a huge facility in his
constituency?"



	"Aye, an InterChem Aerospace R.&D. complex, it's supposed to be about
the size of a small town."  McCormack blinked as he tried to force his
memory to recall everything he'd heard about the development, "I think
there were a few problems with the site.  Environmentalists, I think." 
Seeing the look on Mulder's face he added, "Don't ask me anything else
about it, I was quite busy at the time.  Some bloody fool unleashed the
Wild Hunt in the South of England and we had to deal."



	"The Hunt?" Mulder choked.



	"This is neither the time nor the place, Mulder," Scully reminded them
both, wondering why her partner had suddenly gone pale.



	"Yeah," Mulder nodded grimly, "sorry.  If half the rumours I've been
hearing about InterChem and the Storm Project from you and the Lone Gunmen
are true. ...... Well, that explains the warning about storms."



	"But not why they want Mulder and I dead,"  Scully whispered thoughtfully.



	"Maybe you interfered with their plans for Sir Marsden?"  McCormack suggested.



	"But, he appears to be sympathetic towards them?" Mulder asked, "why
would they try to have him killed?"



	"What if," he noticed Scully rolling her eyes at the 'what if'.  How
many times has she heard those words working with Mulder? he thought. 
"What if they had employed L'Ivey to kill him so that they could get their
own man in?"



	"And the other M.P.s who were killed?"



	"An attempt to make it look like a pattern where there was none," he
thought for a moment before continuing, "or maybe they were trying to make
other M.P.s more amenable to control."



	"Okay, our friend in Seven has given us the name of the people who want
Scully and I dead.  Now what?"  Mulder rubbed his eyes, the nap he'd had
earlier was wearing off and now he just wanted to sleep.  Weighing against
this was the fact that someone wanted him dead.  It's nice to be wanted
for a change!  "Any ideas how to persuade them that it would be a bad
idea?"



	Scully shook her head.



	McCormack appeared lost in thought, his eyes unfocused and staring into space.



	"Will?"  Dana reached out and tapped him gently on the shoulder.



	"Huh?"  he started and looked around in confusion, "sorry, guys.  I
must've blanked for a moment.  It happens sometimes.  You were saying?"



	 "Any ideas?" Mulder repeated.



	"Uh, ..... no,"  McCormack looked away from them, uncertain about
something, and when he turned around again it was obvious that he'd
reached a decision, "Yes, but we don't have the resources to implement
it.  Not as safely as I'd like."



	"Bait," Mulder appeared as unhappy about the idea as Will was, "One or
both of us plays bait, yeah?"



	"Bait," Will nodded, "It would have to be one of you though.  Resource
wise, we've got what we've got.  I don't know any of the other people here
well enough to trust them with your lives.  Not when the Storm Project
probably has an agent in the Section."



	"So, who gets to be the target?"  Scully looked at Mulder, who looked
back, an identical expression on his face.  They both knew what the other
was thinking, I'll do it, I don't want you hurt, or dead.



	"Flip a coin?"  Mulder quipped.



	Will reached into his pocket and withdrew a 10 pence piece, flipping it
into the air before catching it in his right hand while his left covered
it the second it landed, "Your call, Dana, heads or tails?"



	"Tails....."






 Friendly Fire Part III.

'I want to believe' :- Fox Mulder.

	Written by Alasdair T. McLean using characters created by C. Carter and
Ten Thirteen Productions. The character of Jackie St. George who is briefly
mentioned was created by Sheryl Martin. No copyright infringement or
offence is intended.  Will McCormack, Section 10, InterChem, the Storm
Project and a few other characters created by myself and copyrighted 1995.



This is set shortly after the events in 'Fire', also before Jackie St.
George was exiled from Canada.

No, Will is not one of the Highlander Immortals.  Keep Guessing.



10:12am.

Wallace House, InterChem's Glasgow Office.



	Fox Mulder straightened his tie once and then continued walking down
Buchanan Street.  If the sun had been shining then it would have been
enjoyable, but this was Scotland.  It was raining lightly, only slightly
heavier than mist, not heavy enough to bother using an umbrella.  His dark
overcoat was doing an admirable job of keeping him warm.  Stopping to buy a
copy of the Big Issue from one of the vendors in front of the Princess
Centre he took the chance to take a quick look around.

Paydirt, he could make out four of them.  That they were armed, to
Mulder's eyes it was obvious, and he suspected it was meant to be.  Judging
by the way they were moving he guessed that they didn't know he was aware
of them

	Tucking the magazine he had just bought into the pocket of his overcoat
he turned and walked into the Centre, an upmarket shopping mall.  It was
quite elegant, designed along continental lines.  Taking the escalators up
to the top level he marveled at the warm atmosphere of the place despite
the dull day outside.

	A glance downwards confirmed that he was still being followed.  He
smiled, for once his paranoia was paying off.  He headed towards the
rest-room, wondering just how Will was planning on keeping track of him
without any electronic surveillance equipment.  There was not enough time
to get anything that would not be easily detectable by the Storm Project's
operatives.

	Once inside the gents rest-room Mulder checked that it was empty.  It
was, thankfully.  He didn't want any civilians there who might end up hurt,
or worse.

	The door opened, slowly.



*		*		*



	"Dana, they've picked him up,"  McCormack burst into his office where
Scully had been waiting, impatiently for some news about her partner, "and
taken him to a warehouse on the Clyde.  It's about half an hours drive from
here.  Shall we?"  Holding the door open for her he noted the expression on
her face: worry.

	"I don't like this, Will," her voice revealed just how worried she was.

	"Don't worry, they've only had him there for five or six minutes at the
most,"  Will tried to sound confident, but only suceeded in showing Scully
that he too was worried for Mulder, "He'll be okay.  He can handle
himself."

	"Five or six minutes?"  she started to ask, confused by what he'd told
her, "How did you?"

	"I had some friends of mine following Mulder," was all he said in answer
to her question as he leapt into the driver's seat of the XM, shaking his
head at the bullet holes in the rear of the car.  At least AutoGlass had
managed to replace the rear windscreen.

	"Let's go!"  As soon as her door was closed he tore into the Glaswegian
traffic, almost running a red Mini off the road.

	It only took him fifteen minutes to get to the warehouse.  They had been
expecting it to be one of the many abandoned warehouse along the length of
the Clyde, a legacy of the city's past, and the decline of Glasgow as a
shipbuilding centre, however it was a modern building.  The sign on the
wall read, 'Tempest Shipping.'

	"Yeah, right, 'Tempest',"  Will muttered to himself as he threw open his
door, and got out of the car, scanning  all around for any possible threat
and finding none.  From a hidden holster on his belt he drew a .38 Auto,
smoothly chambering a round and thumbing off the safety.  Muttering under
his breath, "I really hate guns."

	Scully, mirroring his move on the other side of the car, motioned for him
to cover her while she made for the side of the building.  Across far too
much open ground for her taste.  She did not let McCormack's comment about
hating guns worry her.  She knew why he hated them.  When he was in the Air
Cadets he had been a brilliant marksman, indeed he still was.  However,
when he was a cadet another cadet had been fooling around on the rifle
range and as a result Will took a .303 round through the fleshy part of his
left thigh.  It had been years before he picked up a gun again, and then
only because he had had no choice.  Toronto.

	Throwing herself against the brick wall by the side door she waited for
him to join her.

	"Inside?" he whispered from beside her, startling her.

	"Dammit," she muttered, startled by him, she could swear that she hadn't
seen him move.

	He nodded briefly, moving to stand in front of the door.  Holding up
three fingers, then two, and finally one.  The second before he kicked the
door down he thought, Will, this is one of the most stupid things you've
ever done.  Neither of them, after all, had any idea what was inside the
warehouse.  For all they knew it could be filled to the brim with armed
agents, all with weapons targeted on the door.

	That's it, be optimistic, Will.  Kicking the door open, he dived to the
side, waiting for the gunfire that he was sure was going to rip through the
air.

	Nothing.  Silence.

	Scully slowly poked her head through the door, her eyes searching the
dimly lit interior for some sign of her partner.  The huge building was
entirely empty, apart from.... "Mulder," she whispered when she spotted him
lying unconcious on the concrete floor about two hundred yards inside the
building, his hands cuffed behind his back.

	Will nodded, replacing his gun in its holster, "Cover me."

	She didn't say a word, but instead started scanning likely places for a
gunman to hide in the roof space, the side doors, anywhere.

	"I hate this part," he muttered, sprinting off at unbelievable speed
towards Mulder, while Scully watched for any signs of danger.

	Just as her eyes swept over a side door halfway down the length of the
building she saw the man.  He was pointing a high velocity rifle at
McCormack.  She brought her Sig Sauer to bear, aiming, not wanting to miss.

	They fired at the same moment.

	She heard the sniper fall back, his weapon clattering to the ground, even
as she saw the explosion of blood and flesh on McCormack's shoulder.

	"Will!" she shouted.

	He staggered, but kept on running towards her partner.  Scooping him up
in a fireman's lift when he reached him.  As he ran back to her she saw
that the wound was almost gone already, apart from the blood on his suit
jacket all that was visible was a small scar.

	As he ran she saw him reaching for his own .38, a look of horror on his
face.  She spun around.  Even as she heard him firing she was bringing her
own weapon up and firing at the man who had been sneaking up on her, and
doing a very good job of it.  Her heart racing Scully watched him fall to
the ground, if not dead then close to it.  One wound over his heart, the
other over his left shoulder.

	In the distance they could hear the sirens of the approaching police cars.

1:42pm.
Glasgow Royal Infirmary.

	"He'll be fine, Dana,"  Will reassured her, resting his hand on her
shoulder, "don't worry.  They probably gave him a sedative before taking
him to the warehouse."

	Scully said nothing.  She turned to look at him, at his shoulder.
Despite the blood on his suit jacket, and the hole she knew that he was
perfectly okay.  There would be not so much as a scar visible on his chest.
"Amazing," she whispered, "I still don't see how....."

		"Sorry, Dana," he looked apologetic, "that's classified, remember."  The
last time he had worked with the two F.B.I. agents, in Washington, he had
been shot.  Only he and Scully knew about that part of the case.  As far as
she knew his rapid healing was the result of a failed genetics experiment
conducted by the British government.  That was what he had told her.  It
was also a lie.  Somehow, despite the fact that she was becoming more open
to the paranormal he doubted that she was ready to know what he was.
"Listen, I have to go make a few calls.  Have the nurse come and get me if
there's any news."  With that he stood up and walked down the hall, leaving
her staring after him shaking her head slowly.

3:36pm.

	"So, what now?"  Mulder asked from his hospital bed, wondering why it was
that the tea and toast they had given him tasted like tepid water and stale
cardboard.  Hospital food is hospital food, he decided.

	"Well, I've talked to Jackie: she drew a blank and is heading back to
Canada," he looked a little sheepish, "I think M.I. 7 might have impeded
her investigation a little.  I've also notified the Bureau that you are
both alive and well and in Scotland."  He paused for a second and grinned
at them both, "I've also told Skinner that it'll take three weeks for us to
debrief you about what has happened here."  He laughed at the looks on
their faces.

	"Why don't you just kill us now?"  Mulder groaned, not sure if he was
feeling ill because of the drugs he'd been given or because of what he'd
just been told.  Three weeks?

	"Why so long?"  Scully looked less annoyed than curious.

	"Oh, unauthorised possession and discharge of weapons, involvement in a
high speed car chase, entry into Britain on false passports......."

	"Stop, please," It has to be the debrief, Mulder thought, feeling worse
as the list went on.

	"Okay,"  Will smirked, unable to keep himself under control any longer,
"I'm kidding.  But as far as Skinner knows you do have a three week
debrief.  The truth is you now have a three week, all expenses paid, *paid*
holiday in Scotland.

	"What?"  Mulder looked relieved.

	"What?"  Scully looked murderous, "Will?"

	"I though you could do with a holiday," he said, "Jackie agreed."

	"And the debrief?"

	"What debrief?"

	"I wonder if we could go up to Loch Ness?"  Mulder's voice sounded wistfull.

	"Mulder!"  Scully laughed.



The end.



Until next time.

-- 
Alasdair T. McLean
<mcleana@btinternet.com>

"Maybe I run into so many people who refuse to open their minds to the possibilities that, sometimes, the need to mess with their heads outweighs the millstone of humiliation" :- Fox Mulder, X - Files.