From: 3eb_fan <3eb_fan@email.msn.com>
Date: Thu, 8 Jun 2000 15:59:03 -0600
Subject: NEW: GenNex - Ten Months (1/?) by Lisa McKensy

Title: GenNex: Ten Months (1/?)
Author:  Lisa McKensy
Category: SA (MSR)
Classification: S
Rating: R
Spoilers: Requiem
Archive: Don't really care, just let me know.
Feedback: 3eb_fan@email.msn.com  I would definitely love feedback.

WARNING:  If you haven't read the first installment in this series,
Generation Next, then you might be just a little lost.  At any rate, if
you want to continue, you're going to get a good, old-fashioned X-file,
and Mulder (And Scully, I guess you could put it that way) is even going
to be investigating it.  that is.  Mulder and Scully's son, Spencer. 

Author's notes:  GO L.A.!!!!  The first chapter in this story is dedicated
to my favorite underdogs, the Los Angeles Lakers, who, with perseverance
and sheer spirit were able to pull through and make it to the finals.  You
go, guys.  Let's get Kobe and Shaq those rings! 

Disclaimer:  Everyone X-files belongs to CC.  Everyone GenNex belongs to
LM, that is, ME.  At any rate, screw the establishment. 

OTHER Author's notes:  Okay, guys, well, maybe I didn't get the recs at
Ephemeral that I wanted, but I'm not going to sweat about it.  The way I
figure it, at least I enjoy what I'm writing.  At any rate, I hope that
you that do read this little ditty are happy with it and slightly
intrigued.  I promise this is the last of the author's notes until the
last chapter.  ----------

Tonight I'm tangled in my blanket of clouds.
Dreaming aloud.
Things just won't do without you, matter of fact.
Oh, I'm on your back. -
The Foo Fighters - Walking After You

----------

CHAPTER ONE

"Rockford, Oregon."  The file slammed down on the desk with a dull
thump.  The man behind the desk paused from his incessant typing, looked
at the file.  Then, slowly, his gaze drifted upwards.

The man smiled down at him.  "Need I repeat the words again?"

"What is this?"

"Agent Mulder, this is an X-file."

Spencer Mulder grinned up at the man.  "Fletch, you are amazing.  Where's
Adrienne?"

"At the range, my friend.  We leave tomorrow at eight.  That is, if you want
to."

"Are you kidding?  Of course I want to," Spencer practically yelled, running
out of the bullpen.  "And besides, you're the boss."

Fletch laughed.  "I think we all know who the boss is here, Mulder."

Spencer's grin was thousand-watt as he stumbled backwards into the
elevator.


"Rockford, Oregon."

The man in the room looked up.  "What does this mean?"

Alex Krycek smiled down at the older man.  "He's getting close."

"I don't understand why we're letting him get so close, Krycek."

"Because, my friend, if he sees what he has to loose, then he won't be
concerned with what he has to gain."

"You sound just like Spender," the female voice echoed off the walls.

Alex did not turn.  "You know, Marita, you're really not welcome here.
I hope you realize that."

There was laughter in her voice.  "You didn't seem to have anything to
say about that last night with your tongue shoved down my throat."

He smiled smugly.  "You didn't seem to be complaining."

"I came to offer you a proposal."  She walked around in front of him.

"Marriage isn't really my alley."

Marita ran a finger down his face, around Alex's chin.  "The Consortium is
split, Alex.  Those few that don't hate you hate me.  Let's fix this.  Get
on the
same side of the fence."

"The bed, you mean?"

Marita smiled coyly.  "If you wish."

Alex returned her expression and leaned down close to her ear.  "Oh, I don't
think so."  He snaked his tongue out, running it the length of her lobe.

She gasped softly and he pulled away.  "Don't ruin this, Krycek.  We've
been waiting for this boy for a long time."

Krycek pulled back and looked at Marita in all seriousness.  "Yes, we have.
The prodigious son."

"Mr. Krycek, this is no man we're talking about here.  The boy is only
twenty-four."

Krycek looked over at the older man sitting in the corner chair.  "Mulder
wasn't much older when he began his work."

"Four years, at least.  Besides, Mulder was already more grown up, harder."

"Mmm," Krycek nodded.  "I'll take that into consideration."  Then, Alex
turned smoothly and exited the room.

"Does he know what he's doing, Ms. Covarrubias?" the same man spoke
up once more.

"Alex Krycek, my friend, has known exactly what he was doing for quite a
long time."

"But he over looked Agent Lee.  And what of this other man?  Agent
Fletcher?  He hasn't planned for them."

Marita laughed.  "They weren't planned for because they don't matter."

----------

"Eight ball, side pocket."

"You know," Spencer murmured, "it would be a lot easier to sink it
in that corner."

Jonas laughed from the back of the large basement.  Adrienne's huge
German shepherd, Orion, watched the game passively from behind his
owner.  He was a beautiful dog.  Orion looked at Spencer and cocked
his head, tongue lolling, lips pulled back in a smile.  "That dog bite?"

"Yes."  Adrienne glanced at Jonas and smirked, then chipped the cue ball
off the side rail.  It nicked the eight ball, and that ball went flying into
the top
rail, then bounced neatly into the side pocket.

Spencer groaned and fished a twenty out of his billfold, his eyes
momentarily
catching on the couple in the front picture of his wallet.  He flipped the
billfold
closed.  "You, my friend, have far too much time on your hands."

"I think," Jonas laughed, "that you've just been hustled Spencer."

"So how does a white kid from the Bronx end up with a huge house just
outside of D.C. and an entertainment room worth more than my entire
household?" Spencer asked, sipping from his Budweiser.  "By the way, let's
go one more game, double or nothing."

Adrienne began to rack up.  "Well, my grandmother, it seems, had a bit of
inheritance that she didn't trust to my mother and father.  I spent a lot of
time
with her, and when I turned eighteen, she turned everything in her will over
to
me.  This house was hers."

Spencer nodded.  "My break?"

"Sure."

He edged the cue ball and sent the rest of the balls flying around
the table.  He sunk two stripes, then took another hit, sending two
more stripes into various pockets.  "Looks like I'm stripes this time."

Spencer circled the table, time and time again until there was only one
striped ball left on the table.  He cut the pool stick a little short, and
the
striped fourteen ended its roll just short of the corner pocket.  "Damn."
He'd missed the shot on purpose.

Adrienne narrowed her eyes at him, then started her turn, polishing off
four balls.  Spencer sunk the fourteen.  "Eight ball, corner pocket."

"Easy shot."

Spencer grinned.  "Not that corner."  He sent the cue ball flying, hitting
it so hard that it almost went airborne before settling into its roll.  The
eight
ball flew towards the pocket opposite from what Spencer had called, but
just before it sunk, the cue ball chipped one of the solids its way, and
sent
the eight ball parallel, sinking it into the correct corner.

Adrienne stared at the table, openmouthed.  Spencer smiled smugly, not
noticing Fletcher bury his hands in his head, whispering, "Oh, fuck."

Adrienne glared up at Spencer and threw the twenty on the table, then threw
her pool stick across the room.  It hit the wall with a loud crack and slid
to the
floor, then Adrienne stormed up the stairs with a muttered, "See you guys on
the flight out tomorrow."

Spencer stared up the stairs after her.  Then, he looked at Jonas.  "The
hell
did I do?"

Jonas smiled softly.  "You won, man.  Adrienne can't stand to loose, at
anything.
All be it, most of the time, we don't have to go easy on her for her to kick
our
asses, but I think that, just maybe, she's met her match."

Spencer frowned and rubbed his neck and shoulders, sighing.

Jonas walked over and slapped him on the back.  "Look man, don't worry.
She'll be over it by morning.  Just pick up your money, and let's get out of
here.
She had automatic door locks installed."

Spencer nodded and followed Jonas up the stairs and out the front door, not
missing the classic rock of Pink Floyd banging the walls from the second
floor.


Spencer wheeled his electrically powered BMW into his apartment parking
space.  As he got closer to his door, the hairs on the back of his neck
began to
stand up.  He frowned and felt for his gun, but didn't draw it.  "God," he
murmured.
"I'm going insane."

He ran his keycard through his locked door, and waited for the green light,
then
stepped inside.  Immediately, he knew something was out of place.  Someone
had
been inside his house.  Frowning, he pulled his gun, his hand shaking
nervously.
Spencer breathed in deeply and began to walk his house.

After he thoroughly searched the domicile, he returned to his living room
and sunk
down on his sofa with a watery smile and laughed softly at himself.  It was
then
that everything around him seemed to haze as his eyes focused on the manila
folder
sitting innocently on his television.  Someone had been there.

He walked slowly over to the folder, his eyes darting around his house.
Then, he
read the label.  An X-file from Bellefleur, Oregon.  Spencer glanced around
the
room, then lifted the file and returned to his sofa.  He switched on the
table lamp.

Spencer read the file in awe, seeing how it all started.  As he neared the
end of the
first segment, his frown deepened.  There was another date in this file,
from May of
2000.  He ran his fingers over the date stamp.  He would have already been
conceived.
Spencer had been born December 17, 2000, a month early,  The doctors needed
to
perform a C-section, and Spencer was already fully developed at the time, so
it had
been safe.  He inhaled deeply and began to read.

As he read the final notes, Spencer's eyes began to widen in almost-horror.
At the end of the file, neatly typed and worded in his mother's voice,
Spencer
read the words.

"It was determined once back in Washington D.C. that Agent Mulder would
return to Bellefleur on his own.  Assistant Director Walter Skinner
accompanied
him back.  When the Assistant Director returned, he proved, though an
eyewitness
account, that Agent Mulder was abducted by an alien vessel, an unidentified
flying
object.  I retain no objections to this observation.  My only hope is that
through
perusal of my own rigorous investigation, Agent Mulder will be returned
safely in the
shortest time possible."

A personal addendum was attached to the file.  It read more like a letter
than anything
else.  It was dated almost two months after the last page.  The addendum had
been
handwritten with neat, flowing cursive.

"Mulder, I thought I knew how you felt when Samantha went missing.  I
thought
that with as much loss as I had endured in the X-files, that I knew exactly
how
you felt.  I've lost people, Mulder, that were so important to me, and I've
felt
guilty about every incident, but nothing can compare when you implicitly
know
that you were responsible.  The fainting spells have lessened, and for now,
I can
continue my investigation without threat to the baby.  Our baby, Mulder.
The
amnio came back to me yesterday.  I will find you, Mulder.  I will.  Always,
Scully."

Spencer was breathing hard as his trembling fingers ran over the
handwriting.
He could feel a headache creeping up behind his eyes, and his vision began
to
dim peripherally.  Spencer shook his head, but that only made the headache
worse,
and with a groan, Spencer sunk down his sofa, eyes closed.


Spencer grunted with the effort of pushing the swing higher and higher.
When his stomach began to push into his throat, he grunted and eased the
swing to a stop.

"That was pretty high there, young man," the voice came from behind him.

Wide eyed, Spencer whipped his gaze around to the man that was stepping
up beside him.  The man sat in the swings, wrapping his arms around the
chains.
He turned and smiled at the boy.  "How old are you, son?"

"My mother told me not to talk to strangers."

The man laughed quietly and looked back out at the horizon, tearing his gaze
from the boy painfully.  He shook his head to himself and began to stand up.
"She was right.  You should listen to your. mother," the last word was
choked
out.

Spencer frowned at the man that was walking away, somehow knowing
that he was safe with him.  "Five," Spencer called out.

The man stopped in his tracks, then turned around, smiling.  "Five, huh?
That's
pretty old there."

Spencer grinned toothily at him.  "I think so too, but Mom still doesn't let
me
stay up past eight thirty."

The man returned to him slowly.  "That's good, though.  You get smart when
you sleep."

"Really?"

The man laughed.  "No.  At least I don't think so, but it makes your parents
feel better that you take care of yourself."

"I can take care of myself."

"I'm sure you can, big guy.  What grade are you in, Kindergarten?"

"Kindergarten?" Spencer's nose wrinkled.  "I was in that a long time ago.
I'm in second grade."

The man's eyebrows rose, but he didn't seem that surprised.  "Second grade?
Gosh, you are a smart one."

Spencer grinned again.  "Yup.  I'm graduatin' early."

The man laughed.  "Don't grow up too soon, kid."  He ruffled his hair
lightly,
then squeezed Spencer's shoulder.  Spencer didn't shrug from the contact.
It felt
right, not bad.

"I need to be going, son."

The man began to leave.  "Maybe I'll see you again," Spencer called out.

The man stopped, but didn't turn.  "I don't think so, Spencer."  Then he
continued
walking from the park.

Spencer frowned, then called out, "Hey mister, how'd you know my name?"

The receding figure didn't answer, instead kept walking.  Soon, he just
disappeared.


Spencer jolted awake from his sofa, almost falling off, and sending the file
that lay
on his chest straight to the floor.  "Oh, my God," he muttered, rubbing his
hands
down his face.  The memory had been so hazy, it felt more like a dream, but
Spencer
distinctly remembered it happening.

He also distinctly remembered the face from his dreams.  The man he'd talked
to had
been none other than Fox Mulder, alive and in the flesh.

"They didn't die," Spencer whispered softly.  Then, he threw his Laker's
jacket on
over his Ralph Lauren polo shirt, and rushed out the front door, hurrying to
his car.
"They didn't die," he repeated, louder, and then, Spencer Mulder was off to
the J.
Edgar Hoover building with only one file in mind.  Fox Mulder's.

END CHAPTER ONE



CHAPTER TWO

Fox Mulder's file, it seemed, was missing.  Or maybe it had never been there
at all.  Hell, Spencer didn't have a clue.  He slammed the file cabinet in
frustration.  The old X-files office was dank and drab, just as it seemed it
had
always been.  The small, chain-hung electrical light swung back and forth.
The office seemed more like an old restroom or something.

Spencer's body fell back into the chair behind the desk in the middle of the
room.  The chair slid back, bumping the wall.  He took out his wallet and
fingered the card that the man, Skinner, gave to him in what seemed like
years
ago.  The number was written distinctly on the back in bold, decisive
handwriting.
Skinner's number.

Spencer walked out of the office and took the elevators up to the
darkened bullpen.  The room was deserted, and Spencer checked his watch,
groaning.  It was almost one in the morning.  No matter.  This had to be
done.
He strode to his desk, his strides long, even for his 6'4'' frame.  He
picked up
the receiver of the phone that was on his desk, oddly thinking that he
really
needed to get a cell phone.  He was probably the only person in the world
that
did not, at the time, have one.

Spencer dialed the phone number, and it rang three times before a person on
the other end finally picked up.  "Hello?"

"Hello.  I'm looking for a Walter Skinner."

The phone was silent for a moment.  "May I ask who's calling?"

"Agent Mulder."

Click.  The phone went dead.  Spencer glared at the receiver before
slamming it down.  Then, he picked up the phone and redialed.

"Look," the voice answered.  "I don't know who the hell you think you
are-"

Spencer heard Skinner's baritone voice on the other end.  "Ask him how
the beaches in New Jersey are."

Spencer answered before the man on the phone could ask.  "They're
windy."

Instantly, Skinner's voice was on the phone.  "I'm sorry about that, Agent
Mulder.  We have to be very diligent about security.  In fact, you shouldn't
talk on this line.  Meet me in front of the building in ten minutes."

Ten minutes passed, and Spencer was in front of the J. Edgar Hoover
building as an old Ford F-150 rolled to a stop.  Skinner was at the wheel.
"Get in the truck," he said through the window.  Spencer obeyed.

A few minutes later, the truck rolled to a stop.  The building was run down,
but sturdy.  Spencer followed Skinner inside.  They stopped at a large,
heavy
door at the end of a dark hallway.  Skinner knocked.  "Open up."

Spencer heard what sounded like several bolts being slid across the door
and a lot of clicks.  Finally, the door swung open.  Spencer looked straight
ahead and saw no one at the door.  He frowned.  The voice that came from
below startled him.  "Try looking down."

The man that stood in front of him was impish and elderly, probably close to
his late sixties.  His beard was rough and rugged, not neat at all, and his
clothes were a blast from at least forty years ago.  His glasses were thick
and wire-framed, something that had gone out with titanium plastic in the
tens.  The little man cocked his head Spencer's way, though his eyes were
trained on Skinner.  "That who I think it is?"

"Christ," Skinner swore, pushing past the troll.  Spencer followed him.
"Just look at his eyes, Frohike.  It'll be like seeing your true love all
over
again."

The diminutive man, Frohike, looked up at Spencer, caught his eyes.
"Hey, you're right.  I guess you pass, kid."

Two more men emerged from a room that branched from the main, dull
lobby.  One of them was dressed and pressed, his expensive brown suit
impeccably tailored, as was his short hair cut.  The brown in this man's
hair had begun to fade and gray at the temples.  The other man was
distinguished in that he was by far the most casually dressed.  His
stonewashed
blue jeans looked ages old, and the Van Halen shirt was clearly vintage, at
least twenty years old.  His gray hair was tied back in a neat ponytail and
Spencer guessed that, untied, it probably hung to his shoulders.

"Agent Spencer Mulder," Skinner began the introductions, almost proud.
"Meet John Byers, Ringo Langly, and Melvin Frohike.  The Lone Gunmen."

The neater man, introduced as John Byers, stepped forward.  "We've been
waiting a long time, Mulder."

"Just. Spencer, please," Spencer said politely.  Then, he smiled ironically.
"The only people that call me Mulder are people that seriously knew my
father."

John nodded solemnly.  "We did."

"Why am I here?" Spencer asked.

"Because," Skinner stepped forward, "the things that you are looking for
that happened in the months prior to your birth and the first two years
after
are not things that you will find in the X-files.  The only thing you will
find
in your father's file is the date of his return from Bellefleur."

"And why is that?"

Skinner continued.  "After Mulder was returned, your parents shut down
the X-files.  They both requested transfers that the FBI was only to happy
to provide."

"His return?"

Byers spoke up.  "Come into the living room, Spencer.
This is going to be a long story."

The living room that John had spoken of was not a living room at
all, but more of a casual observatory.  Spencer was impressed at
the equipment that was harbored in the little room, for all of it was
top of the line.  Radar scanners and CB radios lined the room.
There were two twenty-inch computer monitors in the middle of the
room, and several smaller monitors around the walls.  Off to one side,
a small laboratory was set up, with microscopes and electron analyzers.
On the other side of the laboratory, a beat up sofa and armchair, along
with two old office chairs were arranged in what looked like an attempt
for normalcy.

Spencer sat on the sofa, and Skinner sat on the end opposite him.  The
three other men took the chairs.  Skinner looked over at Spencer.
"You've decided, then.  Completely."

Spencer sighed in frustration.  "I'm here, right?  So why don't we just
cut the bullshit and get to what I asked you.  You've never once answered
any of my questions directly, neither you nor Alex, and I would really like
to
start getting some answers."

Then, Walter Skinner began to talk and remember.  And it became clear
even as it blurred.

-----
When Fox Mulder opened his eyes, he wished that he hadn't, and closed
them again immediately.  The bright sunlight gleamed down into his eyes
through the canopy of trees above him.  Slowly, he tried to open his eyes
once more, and this time, succeeded.  The first thing he noticed, oddly
enough,
was that he was naked.  The second thing he thought was not an observation
at all.  It was simply a word, a name.  Scully.

He leapt up, every vertebrae in his back popping in protest, his knees
cracking as he extended to his full height.  Mulder stumbled forward,
disoriented
and unbalanced.  All he could remember was the previous (or was it the
previous?)
night with Skinner.  The air was cold and wet, not unusual for Oregon.
Mulder
tried to get his bearings, but nothing provoked memory.  He continued in an
uneasy gait straight ahead, hoping that maybe, just maybe, he would come in
contact with civilization.

Mulder fell once, almost an hour after he'd started walking.  He allowed his
body to take him all the way back, and just lay, a blessing in itself.  Not
a
minute after his fall, Mulder heard it.  The sound of traffic.  He pulled
himself
to his feet once more and plowed towards the grinding noise, having never
been so happy to hear cars in his entire life.  At last, the road appeared
and
Mulder pressed forward.  As he reached the road, his weary body gave out
and he fell, face forward, to the asphalt.  The only sound he heard before
his
eyes shut was the squeal of tires as a car roared to a stop behind him.

-----
Skinner flashed back.  "At least, that's the way Mulder told it.  He was
able to give the EMTs his name, and Scully was contacted immediately.
Mulder didn't remember anything after he stepped away from my side
that night in Bellefleur.  He was gone for five months."

Spencer frowned at the injustice of it all.  "He didn't know about me,
did he?"

"Not until your mother walked into the hospital.  It was by sheer will
that she was able to see him.  Mulder was dropped in Michigan.  They
wouldn't let Scully fly because it was her third trimester."

-----
"I have to see him."

"I'm sorry, Scully, there's nothing I can do."  Skinner huffed.
"Wait, yes there is.  We'll drive.  They can't stop you from driving."

Scully nodded, maneuvering her taunt body around his office.
When she arrived at the door, she looked over at her superior, and
smiled.  For the first time in months, those harsh blue eyes had softened.
"Thank you, sir.  For everything."

-----
Skinner found himself staring at the same pair of sea-blue eyes.  Those
eyes stared back at him intently, younger and more inexperienced, but
infinitely wise.  Skinner sighed.  "Then, for two years, they were always
with you.  And with each other.  It was the happiest I'd ever seen either
one of them, even if they were still carrying quite a heavy schedule.  They
worked Violent Crimes for the two years that they remained at the Bureau.
Mulder's eyes cleared up, and the dark circles left.  Scully put on a little
bit
of weight.  Healthy weight.  One day, they were in my office, and the dark
circles were back.  The hollows in their faces.  All I could think was 'Oh,
shit.'"

-----
"We're resigning."  Scully stepped forward with the badges and the service
weapons.  Skinner did not miss the bulge of the other gun she was packing as
it stood out from her hip, nor did he miss the rumple under Mulder's blazer.

Skinner was speechless, accepting the badges wordlessly.  Finally, he choked
out, "Why?"

Mulder finally stepped forward from the back of the room.  "Sir, we know
that you'll respect our need for complete secrecy.  You'll get our formal
resignations later today.  I'm sorry about the short notice."

Then, Mulder slipped an arm behind Scully, pressing against the back of
her waist.  Scully bit her lip as she looked at Skinner.  They had been
close
during the search for Mulder.  "I can't.   I can't thank you enough for all
that
you've done."  And they were out of his door and his life.

-----
Skinner sighed.  "They left, Spencer, and I don't know why.  They left,
taking
you with them.  I searched and searched, and your name finally appeared
about
a year and a half later on an enrollment sheet.  But it was your name only.
And,
of course, your foster parents.  I will say one thing for Mulder and Scully,
they
left you with well to-do people."

"They just left me?"  Spencer leaned back in the sofa and put his face in
his hands.
"Just like that?"

"No," John spoke quickly.  "It wasn't 'just like that,' Spencer."

For the first time, Ringo Langly began speaking.  "The best we can figure is
that Alex Krycek offered them some sort of deal in exchange for your safety.
They made no move to change your name or anything."

Frohike nodded.  "They loved you, man.  And each other, very deeply.  They
would never do anything to willingly give you up."

Spencer was silent for a long time.  After many minutes, he looked up at
Skinner.
"Is there any chance that my parents are still alive."

Skinner looked for a long moment at Spencer, studying him.  His face was
square and strong, but somehow softer than his father's.  His hair was deep
red,
so dark, crimson and liquid soft.  Spencer's eyes were hooded with long
lashes
and soulful depths.  The boy was extremely good looking, deriving what
seemed like
all of the best qualities from his parents and yet, none of the worst.  He
wasn't Mulder,
and he wasn't Scully.  Somehow, he was more.  And he deserved the truth.  So
after
the long moments of silence, Skinner answered with complete honesty.

"Spencer, we have every reason to believe that Mulder and Scully are,
indeed,
completely alive."

END CHAPTER TWO


CHAPTER THREE

"You're quiet," Adrienne noted to Spencer as the plane lifted off, leaving
Washington D.C. behind.  Adrienne turned to look out the window, not
wanting to miss the take off.  God, she loved flying.  The thing that
Adrienne
hated most in the world was standing still.

Spencer shrugged.  "Maybe I was thinking about how pissed you got last
night."

Adrienne nodded.  "I have a tendency to do that."  She didn't apologize.

Spencer sighed again and looked forward.  His lips quirked as he spotted
Fletch up ahead, being pestered by a small child.  The child handed Jonas
a plastic airplane he'd managed to hold onto aboard the flight, and to
Spencer's amazement, Fletch broke into a wide grin, enjoying the child's
company.

"You're a pretty big hotshot at pool," Adrienne remarked.

"There isn't one preppy kid going to a private school that doesn't hit the
pool room at least once in a while.  Besides, I aced geometry.  And you're
no slouch yourself."

"Yeah, well. hustling was just one more way to make money growing up,
and it was a lot safer than dealing."  Adrienne sat back in her seat as the
plane began to level off and the seat belt light flashed off.  "So what was
private school like?"

"Hell," Spencer remarked.  "It was a Catholic school, and I've never been
one for organized religion.  The skirts were great, though."

Adrienne laughed.  "So, Spencer, were you the good little Catholic boy,
or were you the rare wild card."

Spencer huffed with a smile.  "I was the rare wild card, I guess.  Trouble
through and through.  My parents gave me a brand new convertible when
I turned sixteen, and I would roll into the parking lot every morning with
rock
blaring out my speakers and the top down."

"The real ladies' bad boy."

"I was just in high school to make a statement.  You know, to show everyone
I knew that the smart kids weren't necessarily the geeky kids and that the
jocks
weren't necessarily the ladies' men."

"And did you?" Adrienne inquired.

He laughed.  "No."  Spencer looked to his lap.  "Not really.  I was a gawky
kid, lanky as hell, and lots of pimples.  And I don't know which side of my
family
had the braces but."

Adrienne looked up and down Spencer's built body.  The man must have worked
out at least five times a week, and it wasn't just running, either.  He
obviously did
lifting.  "Lanky, eh, what happened?"

"I swore that in college I would look better, be better, and I was.  I
worked out
every day my senior year, and it paid off.  Of course, no one in my high
school
got to see that.  What about you, how many miles a day do you run?  Twenty?"

Adrienne grinned up at him.  "Four.  Sometimes six.  And I kick box.  And I
practice Hap Ki Do and Tae Kwan Do."

Spencer eyed her with respect.  "I guess you could probably kick my ass
any day of the week, then."

Adrienne nodded her head.  "I could.  You know, I called you last night to
apologize.  You weren't home."

"Checking up on me?" Spencer asked, with a grin.

"No."  The silence that descended was heavy, but not completely
uncomfortable.

Leaning back in his chair for the rest of the flight, Spencer left it at
that,
and not a word more was spoken.


-----
Oregon

"You asked us to come down here for this?" Spencer frowned.  Not only
was the Bureau paying for three agents to fly across the country, they were
also paying a decent room and board.  This was not encouraging.

The photo he held in his hands was blurry, at best, and at worst, completely
indecipherable.  "This proves absolutely nothing."

The police officer standing in front of Spencer gave a small, beseeching
smile.
"Well, Agent Mulder, the truth is, that's not the only reason that we asked
you to come down."

Jonas and Adrienne, who were sitting in back of the undersized captain's
office,
shared a look of aggravation.  Spencer, who was standing in front of them,
had his mouth drawn into a tight line, clearly dismayed.

"Okay," he said, keeping his temper in check, "why were we brought down
here?"

The police officer, Lieutenant Sergio Gamez, his identification tag read,
scratched his cheek with his right index finger, then grimaced.  "The story
is,"
he plowed forward, "that we've been having these murders."

Spencer groaned.  "Lieutenant, we don't have time for this, and we weren't
sent down for this, either.  We could get fired for investigating a case
that
isn't in our jurisdiction."

Sergio held up his hands.  "Hold on.  The locals here think that the murders
are related to these lights that they've been seeing.  In fact, there hasn't
been
a murder in this town for over thirty years, and this has, needless to say,
stirred things up.  Now, if the murders are related to the lights, then it's
in your
jurisdiction, and if, at the end of your investigation, you find that they
weren't
related, then, maybe you'll have helped us solve a couple of murders."

The Lieutenant's face was earnest and open, and Spencer could understand,
completely, what it felt like to need help.  This man was admitting that
they
weren't equipped, in any fashion, to deal with collective homicides.
'Empathy,'
Spencer thought with a small smirk, 'breeds captivity.'  He sighed.  "Okay,
Lieutenant.  We're here for one week, and if this case doesn't seem to tie
in, then
we're gone, but you've got seven days to convince us to stay."

Sergio beamed at him.  "Thank you so much, Agent Mulder."

-----
Even towns with under three thousand in population had a Denny's.  The
franchise seemed to be everywhere, which wasn't necessarily a good thing.
Spencer grimaced as he swallowed the last bite of his overcooked hamburger.
The food was terrible, even more so than he usually found it.  'Of course,'
Spencer
smirked, remembering the long, drunken nights in college that concluded with
breakfast at three or four in the morning, 'when you're smashed and tired,
the
food really isn't that bad.'

Adrienne sat across from Spencer, and next to her, Jonas wolfed down an
omelet
that Spencer wouldn't have touched unless he was dying.  And maybe not then.

Adrienne was more high strung than usual, digging into a chef's salad with a
little
more enthusiasm than was warranted, and when Spencer asked, she gave him a
pained look.  "This is the longest I've ever been away from Orion.  One of
my
friends, Amy from Behavioral, is taking care of him for me, but I'm still a
little
nervous."

'Who?  Oh, right, the dog,' Spencer's memory supplied.  "He's just a dog,
Adrienne."

"He is not just a dog.  Orion worked as a narcotics dog for the D.C. K-9
unit.
One of my friends is a cop in D.C., and I drove him to the station once.  He
started
 talking about this dog.  Orion had taken a bullet for his handler, and two
months later,
they had him working again."

"And?" Spencer asked, curious as to where this story was going.

"And so I stole him."  Adrienne wasn't joking.

Spencer laughed, almost choking on his iced tea.  "You stole the dog?  And
didn't
get caught?"

Adrienne shrugged, "Yeah."

"Why?" Spencer was dumbfounded.

"Because, I can't stand to see any living thing put in a situation that it
probably
doesn't want to be in, in the first place, and get shot at for it.  Rings a
little too close to
home."  She took a sip of her drink, a watered down Dr. Pepper.

"So, now do you think I'm crazy or something?" Adrienne asked.  Spencer had
been
quiet.

 "Yes," he replied, but he went on, "But I also think that we're being
watched,"
Spencer murmured, and he could practically see the fine hairs on Adrienne's
arms rise
to attention.  "There is a man two tables down that can't seem to take his
eyes off me."

Adrienne feigned a stretch and turned, spotting the man Spencer was talking
about.
He was possibly mid to late fifties, or even older, and had carrot colored
hair.
Freckles were dusted lightly across his face, and his eyes,
characteristically blue,
narrowed as he realized he'd been made.  He lowered his gaze back to his
food.

Spencer sighed.  "Well, there's only one thing to do."  He rose from his
chair and
walked over to the man.

"Excuse me, sir," Spencer said politely.  "Do I know you?"

The man stood.  "That's what I've been trying to figure out."

Spencer studied him curiously.

"You look familiar, that's all," the man spoke.  "Like someone I used to
know.
What's your name, son?"

Spencer sighed, getting really tired of his newfound nickname.  Everyone was
either calling him 'son,' or 'kid,' or something equally condescending.
Still, he
remained amicable, and extended his hand.  "Spencer Mulder."

The man's face froze completely, and Spencer eventually lowered his hand.
"Are you all right, sir?"

"You don't know," the man was breathing heavily as he sat down, "how long
I've been looking for you."  All the color had drained out of the man's
face.

Spencer pulled up a chair next to him, his face contorted with that strange
uneasiness that began settling over him every now and then since his start
in the
FBI.  He swallowed, disquieted, and asked, "What's your name, sir?"

"Bill Scully.  I'm your uncle."

-----
The hotel was a refreshing change of venue.  Spencer, had he not been
preoccupied,
would have changes his clothes to get Denny's off him.  The smell of food
clung to
his dress shirt like smoke on cotton.  He felt saturated, but would not
leave the man
in front of him.

Bill, it seemed, had been searching for Spencer for a little over twenty-two
years.
Or course, Spencer hadn't been the only one he'd been looking for.

"When Dana and Mulder took off, we all thought they'd been abducted again.
Then we found that they completely cleaned out their bank accounts, and even
took the time to disconnect their phones.  It took us off guard.  We couldn'
t imagine
them just running off like that.  Especially when there seemed to be no
reason."  Bill
sighed, and colored slightly.  "Eventually, I just went searching for any
reports of bright
lights that I could find.  Anything that seemed like a UFO, I went after,
job permitting.
Of course, I didn't have a lot of free time until I retired."

Spencer nodded.  "Did you ever find anything?"

Bill shook his head.  "Your parents just disappeared, and took you right a
long with them.
I never did find out why."

"Do I- I mean," Spencer stammered, "Do I have any other living relatives?"

Bill looked at the beige carpeting.  "My brother, Charles, died some time
ago in
Saudi.  He was also in the Navy.  Charles never married.  Your grandmother
passed away ten years ago.  As far as Mulder.  All he had left Dana."

Spencer laughed wryly.  "And all I have left is you."

"Well, there are your cousins, Matt and Paul, and my wife, Tara."  Bill
sighed.
"I never really liked your father, Spencer, and it was no secret between us.
But the
fact is, he's as much of you as Dana was.  And right now, both of them are
missing."
Bill rubbed a large hand through his hair.  "What I'm trying to say is that
you're
welcome, any time.  If you ever need a place to stay, or anything, we'll be
there.
Spencer, you are all I have left of my sister."

Spencer clapped the older man's shoulder, and they both stood.

Bill laughed, breaking a little of the tension.  "My God, you're tall."

Spencer grinned at Bill, looking down on his slightly.

"You're probably the only guy in the family taller than me," Bill smiled.
Then, he jotted down his number.  "This is my cell phone number, and it's
always on.  I'll be in town for another day before going back to California.
Call me for anything, and come down to meet my wife."

Spencer shook his head affirmatively, accepting the small, folded piece of
paper Bill had written the number on.  "I will.  After this case, maybe."

Bill smiled stiffly at him and gave Spencer an awkward hug.  Spencer
returned it a
bit easier.  "I'm looking for them, too, you know."

Bill pulled back and gave Spencer a sober look.  "I know.  Mulder never gave
up
on his sister, and you'll never give up on your parents.  I'm glad I saw you
here."

"Me, too," Spencer nodded.

Bill left then, and Spencer flopped down on the motel bed.  Just as quick as
he
was down, he was back up.  After all, there was a case that needed to be
solved.
Spencer was, after all, the lead investigating agent of X-files division, at
least in his
fellow agents eyes.  It wouldn't look good for him to start slacking off.

Spencer unrolled his shirtsleeves and pulled on his blazer, straightening
the rumples
over his sidearm.  He ran a hand lazily through his hair and checked himself
in the
mirror.  Then, Spencer left the hotel room, completely unaware of the small
taping
device innocently patched on the hardwood that surrounded the television.

END CHAPTER THREE


CHAPTER FOUR

Five deaths in the space of one week were the current bane of Rockford,
Oregon's
existence.  Spencer stepped out of the nondescript rental car and stretched,
walking
towards the small house on North Carriage Street.  The house belonged to Mr.
Bobby Barnett, and his wife, Anne.  Their oldest son, Kenneth, had been
found in
the woods not far from their home.  His throat had been slit from ear to
ear.

Spencer grimaced slightly, remembering the pictures.  It didn't seem like
the work
of aliens; at least, from his limited experience, it didn't.  Spencer
remembered the
previous case in New Jersey, with the abductions and subsequent returns on
the
beach.  Those people had just seemed to die, without reason.  There were
elevated
oxygen levels in their blood, but that didn't explain why they just passed
away.

Spencer glanced at his surroundings, realizing for the first time that
Oregon really
was beautiful country.  The mountains stood majestically in the distance,
tall and
proud.  It was easy to see where the city turned to forest, because the
houses just
simply stopped.  Huge pines and spruces lined the foothills, and also dotted
the
face of the mountains.

Spencer whipped off his sunglasses as he strode to the house.  The other
three
agents were interviewing two other families, then he would interview one
more
and Adrienne and Fletch would speak with the last of the people on the list.
That
would cover all five of the victim's immediate relatives.

The young agent knocked lightly on the door of the old home.  He'd noticed
the
shutters on the windows were in need of repair, but other than that, the
house
seemed to be in excellent condition, with what looked like a fairly new coat
of
paint on the outside.

A man of medium build, who looked to be in his late thirties, greeted
Spencer.
He had light brunette hair that was cut flattop style.  "Good afternoon,
sir, my
name is Spencer Mulder.  I'm with the FBI," he flashed his badge.  "Are you
Mr. Bobby Barnett?"

The man nodded.  "Yes, I am."

"Sir, I came to ask you a few questions about Kenneth."

Bobby paled visibly and braced his right hand on the doorframe.  "I'm
 sorry,"
he explained quietly.  "I'm still a little shaken up."

Spencer nodded sympathetically with a small smile, "That's perfectly
understandable sir."

"Come in, please.  We can talk in the living room."

Spencer followed the man in through an entryway to a large front room
with a chandelier that hung from the ceiling.  Against the wall was an oak
entertainment center, and a black, leather sofa was tucked alongside the
opposite wall.  Bobby led him to the sofa, and they took their seats on
opposite
ends.

Spencer took a notepad and a pen from the inside pocket of his blazer.
"Kenneth was eighteen, right?"

Bobby nodded, eyes downcast.

Spencer sighed quietly, becoming depressed as well.  It was so hard, he
imagined, to loose a child.  "Tell me about him," he asked.

Bobby rubbed his eyes and took a deep breath.  "Kenny was highly
intelligent.
He was going to Stanford this fall.  God, I was so damn proud of him."  The
man snorted back his tears and plowed on.  "About two months ago, he started
acting really weird, not studying like he used to.  He was so smart it didn'
t matter,
because he still graduated at the top of his class.  But it was different
here, at
home, you know?

"Kenny loved to mountain bike, and every weekend he would go up to the
forest and bike through the foothills.  One day, almost a month ago, he didn
't
come back.  We went looking for him, and then, finally, almost two weeks
later,
he just showed up on the doorstep.  He looked fine, but that's when things
got
really bizarre.  Kenny lost his appetite, and he lost his acceptance letter.
He didn't
talk about what happened to him.

"We were going to get him therapy, but he wouldn't stand for that."  Bobby
went
on with his story.  It seemed that Kenny showed signs of mental abuse, but
physically,
he was fine.  Bobby believed that maybe Kenny had been kidnapped and held
somewhere in the forest, but whenever they tried to talk about it, Kenny
would clam
up.  "What could we do?" Bobby shrugged.  "He was eighteen, you know?
Legally,
we couldn't force him to do anything, anymore, and Kenny would constantly
throw
that in our faces.  Before, he'd seemed like he was miserable about leaving,
but after
those few weeks, he couldn't wait to be rid of us.

"He just kept talking about how he wanted to be anywhere but here, and the
week
before he died, he talked about wanting to go back.  We asked him where, but
he
wouldn't answer.  Then, Kenny didn't show up one night for dinner, and the
next day,
some campers found his body in the woods."  The last word was uttered
brokenly and
Bobby took a moment to compose himself before continuing.  "I don't know
what
happened, Agent Mulder, and no one else can figure it out either.  Kenny was
the
first, but there have been so many since then."

Spencer nodded.  "I know, sir.  That's why I'm here."

"I'm so glad," Bobby mumbled through his hands.  He rubbed them down his
face in
nervous tension and looked at Spencer.  "You do whatever you need to do,
Agent
Mulder, but make this stop.  There aren't very many people in this town, and
there
won't be any if this keeps up."

Spencer stood, and Bobby followed suit.  They shook hands firmly and Spencer
said, his voice smooth and honest, "Mr. Barnett, I will do everything in my
power to
find out what happened to your son.  I will solve this case."

"Thank you, Agent Mulder.  You have no idea how much Anne and I want
closure."

Spencer looked evenly at the smaller man.  "I think I do, sir.  I really
think I do."

-----
The interview with the other family, Link and Jody Hayes, went just about
the same
way.  Link and Jody were the mother and father of Wilson, their
sixteen-year-old son.
Interestingly enough, Wilson was also near the top of his class, and a
candidate for
valedictorian.  Other than the age and gender, and the class placement,
however,
Spencer couldn't find any other similarities in the victims' histories.

Both young men had started acting out of character about a month to two
months
before their deaths, and both had stated that they wanted to "go back."
What
Spencer couldn't figure out was why they would want to go back to whatever
had
seemed to cause the mental abuse.

In his studies at Harvard and then at the FBI, Spencer learned that victims
from
well-adjusted homes rarely took violence well, and certainly not with the
receptiveness
that these people seemed to have taken it.  In fact, if they had been
abused, they
seemed to want to go back to that environment.  That fact alone made Spencer
wonder if the instigator of these murders was not human at all, but
something much
more alien.

-----
The sun in Washington D.C. had begun to set almost an hour ago.  Alex Krycek
watched the horizon from the window of his office.  Voices carried on in the
background,
emanating from a small speaker box.  The voices were completely unaware of
their
eavesdropper.

"So, what do you think, Fletch?  Adrienne?"  The normally smooth tenor was
ragged
from a day of dealing with death.

The female came over the speaker.  "Well, we came up with pretty much what
you
came up with, Spencer.  There's really not much more here.  Just a couple of
different
ages."

Then, another male voice, deeper than the first, "We still have time before
sunset if
you guys want to go into the forest, do some investigating."

Spencer spoke once more, "Yeah, I think we should at least go check it out.
We can
walk the grid a couple of times.  Even if it's nightfall, that's all the
better, because
that's when the victims were returned."

"Returned, eh?" Fletch spoke again, his voice rumbling the small speaker on
the desk
behind Krycek.  "You're sure this is alien, then?"

"No, I'm not sure of anything," Spencer murmured.  There was a rustling,
like
someone lying down on a bed, and then, Spencer spoke again, his voice tired.
"I'm not sure of anything anymore, Fletch.  I just know that right now, I
want to
get some closure for these kids' parents.  I want to get closure for
 myself."

Krycek smiled softly at those words.  The voice behind him was soft and
feminine,
and in the room with him.  "What's the smile for?"

Krycek turned to Marita.  "It's ironic, really.  All Spencer Mulder wants is
some
closure on what happened to his parents, and he doesn't understand."

"You're losing his trust, Alex.  He's going to believe Skinner."

Krycek sighed and turned again.  "I know, Marita.  Skinner believes he's
working
for the greater good.  There's nothing wrong with that.  It's just not the
correct way
to work for the greater good."

Marita slinked closer to him and ran a hand up his back and around his left
shoulder,
caressing him.  "You need to draw Spencer in, Alex.  We need him.
Especially
with the abductions starting again."

"It's a bit more complicated, now, Marita."

"And why is that?"

Krycek turned in her arms, nipping at her lips with his before moving away.
"Mulder and Scully were spotted yesterday.  They're moving towards Oregon."

END CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

(From Chapter Four)

Krycek turned in her arms, nipping at her lips with his before moving away.
"Mulder and Scully were spotted yesterday.  They're moving towards Oregon."

-----
Spencer was awakened early by the ringing of the hotel phone.  He groaned,
checked the clock, and groaned again realizing it was almost two in the
morning.  He picked up the phone with a mumbled "'Lo?"

"Agent Mulder, this is Sergio Gamez, from the police."

"Yeah, yeah," Spencer sat up on the bed, swinging his feet over the side.
"What's up?"

"We've got another victim, this time a man in his twenties.  I think you
better come down to the station and we can go up to the forest together."

Spencer was almost awake by now.  His voice was stronger.  "We'll be there
in a few minutes, but don't let your men on the scene.  We want to walk the
grid, first."

Gamez was compliant.  "Sounds good.  Do you guys need anything once you get
down here?"

"You have a Geiger counter, by any chance, Lieutenant?"

-----
The disheveled agents showed up at the police department shortly after the
call.  Fletch was really the only one that made an attempt to look
professional.  His suit was wrinkled, but at least he wore a suit.  Spencer
was wearing black slacks and a sleeveless muscle shirt, and Adrienne had on
a pair of khakis and a white button-up shirt that could barely be considered
buttoned up.  Her hair was pulled back into a messy ponytail.

Fletch smiled at them slightly and shook his head.  He had a feeling they
would have to get used to these early morning phone calls.

Sergio came out to the front of the police station with a smile, trying to
be cheerful even under the circumstances and at this ungodly hour.  "We've
got coffee if you guys want any."

"I'm up for a cup," Fletch nodded.

"I don't drink caffeine," Adrienne said, catching the odd look Spencer threw
her way.

"It's two in the morning, Adrienne.  Caffeine would probably help you out
some."  Spencer looked Sergio's way.  "Count me in for coffee."  He turned
back to Adrienne.  "I've seen you drink tea."

"Decaf," Adrienne shrugged.  "That shit'll kill you, Spence."

"I'd rather die young and happy, thanks," he replied as he was handed his
cup.  "Shall we get going?"

-----
The woods seemed strangely quiet.  Spencer had never been a camping kind of
guy, but those times that he actually accompanied his friends on camping
trips, the forest always seemed alive with noise.  Even at night.

Extraordinarily enough, Sergio had been able to find a Geiger counter.
Spencer looked at him strangely when the Lieutenant presented it to him, but
instead of offering up an explanation, Sergio shrugged and smiled.

Spencer remembered reading in some of the X-files that quite often, UFOs
left trace evidence in the form of radiation.  Spencer looked at the yellow
box with the various range markings, then at the black tube connected to it.
He frowned.  "Do we have anybody that can read this thing?"

One of the medical examiners stepped forward.  "I can."

"Okay, go around a look for high levels while we check the grid.  Do not
walk on the grid area while we're examining it."

The M.E. nodded and walked a few yards away.

Spencer at last turned to the body.  The man looked peaceful enough, given
that he was dead.  There seemed to be no signs of struggle, and the body
looked to be unbruised.

Adrienne stepped forward with a small evidence kit and began to comb over
the body.  Fletch was walking around the clearing, examining the trees for
any peripheral evidence.

That was when the footprint caught Spencer's eye.  "Don't move, guys," he
said.  "Any of you step over here?"

The other two agents shook their heads.  Spencer looked at Sergio.
"Lieutenant Gamez, did anyone that you know of get this close to the body?"

"None of my police officers were even out here until we got here, so no.
And I don't think that the person that found him wears shoes that big."

Spencer looked at the footprint and put his left foot next to it, using his
size twelve and a half Nikes for comparison.  The print was slightly smaller
than his, probably an eleven or an eleven and a half.  "Who found the body,
again?" Spencer asked.

"Sixteen year old girl.  Stacy Levinson.  Apparently she'd been in the
process of running away from home," Sergio grinned.  "Hell of a time to run
away, eh?"

The agents looked at him blankly for a moment before continuing.

"Jeeze," Sergio muttered.  "You'd think they don't have a sense of humor or
anything."

Adrienne followed Spencer back away from Gamez.  She looked over her
shoulder, then back at Spencer and groaned, "That man is not funny."

-----
Pictures and samples were taken and sent back to the police office for later
examination.  Once back at the station, Spencer met up with the M.E. that he
'd asked to take radiation samples.

"Anything?" Spencer asked the man.

The medical examiner looked up at him curiously.  "Actually, yeah.  The
samples were about five percent higher than they should be.  I was going to
have Dr. Warren check the body."  Dr. Warren was the pathologist.  "Hey, uh,
Agent Mulder?  How'd you know?"

Spencer shrugged.  "Just a guess, man.  Thanks."

He began to walk back to the front of the station, fully intended to go back
to the hotel and get some rest.  He didn't feel like he could be of any help
on two hours of sleep.  Adrienne stopped him mid-stride.

"That explanation might sate the medical staff, Spencer, but not me.  How
did you know about the radiation levels?"

Spencer put an arm around Adrienne's shoulders, leading her away from the
staff and to a more private area in the station.  He lowered his voice.
"Look, there were circumstances noted in the X-files about elevated
radiation levels around hot zones like this.  We could be very close."

"Close to what?" Adrienne asked.

Spencer smiled down at her.  "I have no idea.  But it's kind of exciting,
don't you think?"

Adrienne laughed.  "Yeah, Spence.  It's pretty exciting.  I have an idea
about what to do next."

"Good, 'cause I don't have a clue.  Come on, let's sit down."  He guided her
over to two chairs in the lobby.  "I'm tired as hell," He explained as he
flopped down in the chair unceremoniously.  "So what's your idea?"

"That girl, Stacy Levinson?  She's in the right age group of victims.  Now,
these victims have been coming in increasingly shorter margins.  Fletch is
pulling up some information on her right now, but if she fits the profile, I
think we should do a little stakeout for the next few days.  See if we can't
find out where these guys go."

Spencer nodded.  "That's a great idea, Adrienne."

-----
Walter Skinner didn't feel like he'd made much of a dent in his dream
retirement.  His single bedroom apartment was drab and undecorated, and in
fact, seldom used.  There were no pictures of loved ones because there were
no loved ones anymore.  The men he worked with, the Gunmen, were as close to
relatives as he had, and the infamous duo he searched for were more an
obsession than anything else.

The months that Mulder had gone missing were harsh on him.  He watched over
Scully like the guard dog he'd been in Nam.

Scully was relentless, not allowing her pregnancy to stand between her and
the search for her partner.  Skinner smiled slightly, remembering her words.
"I've fought with cancer and held on long enough to beat it, sir.  I think I
can handle pregnancy."

The ringing of his home phone jarred Skinner out of reminiscing.  He lifted
the receiver, but did not speak into the phone.  There were only three
people that knew his number, and they all lived in the same place.

"We booked a flight for Oregon, Skinner.  We're all leaving in two hours."

Skinner rose in indignation at Frohike's voice.  "What the hell are you
talking about, Frohike?"

"Look, Skin-man," Langly's voice filtered through to Skinner's ears, "we
bugged the buggers.  The Consortium's egotism has never failed to amaze me."

"Byers," Skinner broke in impatiently, "explain."

"I think I'll just let Krycek do the explaining for you," Byers spoke, the
picture of calm as always.

A recording of Krycek's voice came over the receiver.  "Mulder and Scully
were spotted yesterday.  They're moving towards Oregon."

Skinner wasted no time in his response.  "I'll be right there."  He hung up
and took a calming breath.

"I'm too old for this shit."  Then Skinner was out the door.

-----
Three Hours Later

"Sir, I think there's something you'll be interested in knowing."  The young
man had a fresh face and bright eyes, something Alex Krycek hadn't seen in
ages.

"What is it?" he replied groggily.  It was close to three in the morning.
Krycek sat up on his bed, still dressed in his work clothes.

"One of our agents has tracked Skinner down.  He wasn't all that hard to
find."

Krycek groaned.  "Skinner has never tried to hide himself, Agent.  What's so
damn important?"

"It seems he's joined the Lone Gunmen, sir.  They boarded a flight one hour
ago to Portland, Oregon.  We assume they'll head to Rockford from there to
rendezvous with Agent Mulder."

"Shit," Krycek hissed.  "Get Marita Covarrubias on the phone right now.
Tell her we'll be boarding the Leer jet in one hour for Oregon."

END CHAPTER FIVE



CHAPTER SIX

The plane hummed quietly in the way that most well conditioned Boeing 797
airplanes do.  The drone of the engines faded away into nothingness as the
passengers aboard the redeye flight drifted into a sleep born of the
traveling crowd.  There were, however, four men that remained wide-awake.

They sat in the back of the plane, and as people fell to sleep, they began
to speak in hushed tones worthy of conspiracy.

"Why now?  Why have Mulder and Scully suddenly surfaced?"  Skinner was
confused and disoriented.  The last he'd heard of his agents had been the
day they disappeared, when they handed him their resignations.  The somber
looks of that day were what he remembered most, and the other expressions
that crossed the partners' faces in the years before that were hard to
recall; especially the looks of happiness.

Byers took the lead in the conversation.  "What we established was this,
Skinner:  Mulder and Scully left at the end of 2002, just after their son's
second birthday.  They had Spencer placed, somehow, without being tracked.
They didn't change his name."

Langly broke in.  "Again, the egotism of the Consortium.  And the egotism of
ourselves.  We checked every anagram and every codename we could think of,
and then, we checked everything else.  All they did was fudge the
fingerprinting records and eye scans.  The rest, we fudged ourselves.  We
can only assume Krycek did the same."

Frohike smiled in admiration of his lost friends.  "Never once did we check
for a Spencer Mulder.  Never once."

Byers nodded.  "Indeed, if hadn't been for you, Skinner, finding his name on
the enrollment sheet for home-schooling, we probably wouldn't have found
Spencer then.  The thing we still don't understand is why the Consortium
left Spencer alone.  Surely they had to have found at the same time or
before we did."

Skinner shook his head.  "Maybe not.  Krycek did only show up when Spencer
joined the FBI."

Byers shook his head furiously.  "That's simply not plausible.  There had to
have been something that was bargained; something that kept Krycek and
Marita from coming near Spencer."

"Look," Skinner spoke, "none of that matters right now.  What matters is
what the hell is going on in Oregon.  If we can meet up with Mulder and
Scully, then we'll get our answers.  Until then, we need to figure out what
we're going to do when we land."

-----
Somewhere over the Central Plaines of the United States, the faster Leer jet
over took the heavy commercial airliner.

Alex Krycek swallowed the prescription strength Naproxen tablet dry, his
hand shaking.  Marita glanced at him curiously from the seat next to him.

"Shoulder joint," he cocked his head to the prosthetic arm.  "The muscles
around it tense up like hell at high altitudes nowadays."

Marita nodded, accepting the explanation for what it was: an admission of
age.  "When did Mulder and Scully drop off our scope, anyway?  Spencer was
almost twenty-one, right?"

"Right," Krycek nodded.  "I guess they figured he was old enough to watch
out for himself for a little while."

"They, of all people, should know that you can't protect yourself from the
Consortium."

Krycek smiled and motioned the private flight attendant, asking for a
scotch.  He didn't really care that he'd just taken a huge dose of
painkillers.  He turned to Marita.  "They knew we wouldn't go after the boy,
Marita.  Not when he got old enough to do something stupid like fight back.
We can't afford to kill him."

Marita narrowed her gaze at Krycek.  "And just why is Spencer Mulder so damn
important to us?"

"You always had trouble putting two and two together.  Spender had a plan
when he gave Scully the cure for her infertility.  Despite all the knowledge
the Consortium had discovered, they never discovered how to keep a
biogenetically engineered child alive past a certain point.  They could
never find that one link in the chain that allowed the child to progress to
adulthood, so, it had to be done the natural way."  Krycek swallowed back
with shot with hardly a grimace.  The half-Russian was not bothered by
liquor.

"What had to be done?" Marita persisted.

"For Christ's sake, Marita!" Krycek exclaimed.  "Don't you see it?  Mulder
gets shipped to Tunguska in 1996, and in 1998, Scully is taken to
Antarctica.  Both survived the black oil, Marita.  In 1999, Mulder
experienced elevations to areas of the brain that have never been used.
Scully has been cured of cancer and infertility.  This child, Marita, this
man, is the cure to an invasion that could months, years, or even days away.
Spencer Mulder is the key to everything human.  We just have to learn how to
use him."

Marita took in a deep breath.  "And that's why we recruited Mulder and
Scully?"

"We couldn't afford to experiment on Spencer.  That's why we made them a
deal they couldn't resist.  Either they work for us, or their child would be
taken.  But now, Spencer is old enough to resist.  The mind, Ms.
Covarrubias, is a very powerful tool.  Spencer's is probably more powerful
than even we know.  He just doesn't know that yet, and we can't risk
allowing him to find out."

Marita looked at Krycek in understanding.  "That's why you let him work the
X-files?"

Krycek knocked back another shot.  "Exactly.  Through the Bureau, we control
everything that he knows."

"And now, more than four years after their escape from the Consortium,
Mulder and Scully have been seen.  Do you honestly think they'd be that
careless after four years, Krycek?"

He laughed.  "Hell no.  This is a calling card, Marita.  They've found
something out, and though they don't want to admit it, they are going to
need our help."

"And how do you know that?"

"Because," he looked at her, "the abductions have begun again.  The
Rebellion is once more on the rise.  Those little bastards up in space have
figured something out, and now, it's happening again.

"When the Rebellion managed to stop certain apocalypse, they didn't end it
completely.  It was merely stayed."

Marita felt her stomach twitch with nervousness.  "Alex, if They decide to
finally proceed with colonization, humans alone can't stop them."

"No, no we can't.  But Spencer Mulder is more human than human.  In fact,
Spencer might just be the one to save us all."

-----
The belch rang raucously through the government sedan.  Adrienne crinkled
her nose in disgust and looked over at her partner.  The more she spent time
with him, the more she was finding that Spencer Mulder was more of a slob
than she'd gathered on her first impressions.  She kind of liked it.

Spencer smiled sheepishly.  "That one calorie crap isn't going to cut it for
much longer.  The aftertaste is about to turn me away from all things
healthy."

Adrienne smiled back.  "That six pack is going to turn into a gut if you
aren't careful, my friend.  Plan for your old age now, and you can be
youthful far longer."

"That's really interesting, Adrienne.  Did you read that or just make it
 up?"

"You know that you're an asshole, right, Spence?"  Adrienne quipped,
grinning.

Spencer mirrored her expression.  "How many times have I asked you
specifically not to call me 'Spence?'  Or 'Junior,' or the billion other
horrible nicknames you manage to come up with?"

Adrienne laughed.  "Well, Agent Mulder, I find it terribly interesting that
you let me call you those horrible nicknames, anyway."

Spencer shook his head, cocky grin plastered on his face.  "I'm just luring
you in with my masculine charms."

"Ha!" Adrienne guffawed exaggeratedly.  "Look, Pretty Boy, I'm not lured by
a damn thing, much less your masculine charms."

Spencer chuckled and looked down at his palms.  When his eyes returned to
Adrienne's they were lighthearted.  "You make me feel better, you know
 that?"

Adrienne sighed, her smile melting.  "Spencer."

"Look, I wasn't coming on to you.  I was just saying, you make me feel
better.  I haven't been able to talk to many people like I can talk to you."
He broke his gaze away from hers and turned it to the woods beyond the
driver-side window.  "I don't trust people easily, Adrienne.  But you've
always made me feel comfortable.  Maybe it's the way that you don't hide who
you are, or the way that I know you're going to tell me the truth if I ask
it."

He smiled again gamely and turned back to her.  "You're a very blunt person,
Adrienne.  I kind of like that."

Adrienne's smile returned.  "God I wish you weren't my partner sometimes."

"Fatal attraction?"

Adrienne sniggered quietly.  "Something like that."

The walkie-talkie in the backseat chose that moment to crackle alive.
Spencer picked it up just as Fletch's voice rang over the speaker.  "Wakie,
wakie, you two lovebirds.  We've got movement in the woods.  I suggest you
get your asses over to my position stat, over."

Spencer brought the car to life and Adrienne spoke into the small mic.  "You
really get into this spy shit, don't you, Fletch?"

His laugh roared over the speaker.  "Who wouldn't give the chance to act
like James Bond, eh?  C'mon Adrienne, you don't have a little M in you?"

"She's to old, Fletch.  Gimme that chick from that old ass 'Get Smart' show
any day."

Shortly after, Spencer pulled alongside Fletch's car.  He hopped out at the
same time Adrienne did.  Fletch met them.

Spencer grinned.  "It's show time, man.  What've you got for us?"

"Strangest damn thing, man," Fletch looked at the younger agent.  "I swore I
saw a campfire a couple of minutes ago."  He looked down at his feet
sheepishly.  "I feel asleep for a few.  When I woke up, I saw the flames.
The second I stepped out of my car, it was like someone threw water on it or
something, but I couldn't track anything.  So I called you."

Spencer nodded, his grin long gone, his face serious.  He pulled his gun
from his holster and checked the magazine silently.  The other two agents
did the same.  Then, Spencer checked the chamber.  "Okay," he spoke, "I don'
t want to have to shoot anything.  The odds are, we won't have to.  This
could just be campers, guys, remember that.  We don't want to scare anyone.
It also could be another abductee.  By all means, do not make any quick
movements if they are still alive."

"There was a campfire, Genius."  Adrienne thumped his ear.  "Obviously they'
re alive."

Spencer glared at her, rubbing the lobe gently.  "That fricken' hurt,
Adrienne.  I'm being serious here.  We can't just go out there, guns
blazing.  This isn't a damn Western movie.  We're the FBI."

"I'm well aware of what my badge says."  Adrienne sighed, "Look, let's just
go in there together and see what we can see.  When we get close to the area
Fletch saw the fire, we'll split up and circle around.  Either way, we've
got'em trapped.  Nothing to it."

Jonas shrugged.  "Sounds good to me."

Spencer sighed and shook his head.

Adrienne stepped away first and headed towards the end of the clearing.  The
trees began to get larger as they got a little ways into the forest.

Fletch whispered, "I think it was maybe a few more yards ahead."

Spencer nodded, and motioned to Adrienne, then motioned around to his left.
He waved Fletch to his right, and he began to walk straight ahead, his body
low to the ground.

Spencer could smell the fire, wherever it had been.  They were definitely
close.  He crept forward slowly, trying to avoid the various twigs and
sticks.  A few feet more and the smell of smoke hit him, thick and heavy.

Spencer breathed out strongly, attempting desperately to remain quiet.  His
eyes were almost fully adjusted, and he could make out the dying embers not
more than ten feet ahead of him.  Slowly, he stood, his blood pumping
rapidly through his veins.  His heart was pounding.

When the twig snapped loudly behind him, he jumped forward and spun, midair.
When his feet hit the ground, he was facing the opposite way, gun out in
front and cocked.  "FBI!" he screamed hoarsely.

The sharp click of another gun caused his blood to run cold, and he found
himself starring down a thick black barrel.  He couldn't see very well in
the almost absolute darkness provided by the canopy of trees, and the only
thing he could make out was the white flesh of the hand holding the gun
before the arm disappeared into a black sleeve.

"Stay where you are!" the other person holding the gun spoke sharply.

Spencer found the voice vaguely familiar, but held firm.

The next sharp click was from his right and a female voice he'd never heard
spoke.  "Drop the gun!"

Spencer didn't look over at the other person, instead focusing on yet
another click as a fourth gun was cocked and ready.  This female voice
brought some measure of comfort as Adrienne spoke into the darkness, "I've
got you covered, Spencer."  Then, "If I were you, ma'am, I would be the one
dropping the gun.  You're outnumbered."

Fletch's voice emanated from the back.  "Let's all just settle down, here.
Just settle down.  I found a nice little lantern a ways back, and I'm going
to turn it on.  Then, we're all going to stay real calm and figure out what
the situation is.  No one has to get hurt."

Not one of the guns budged.  The small clearing was bathed in light seconds
later.

Spencer was confronted by the man behind the barrel.  Spencer found himself
looking into extremely familiar hazel eyes.  Moments before he grew faint
and his body hit the ground, Spencer heard the woman uncock her gun and say,
"Oh my God, Mulder."

Then, Spencer passed out.

END CHAPTER SIX



CHAPTER SEVEN

When Spencer climbed his way from nothingness, he found himself laying flat
on his back in the sodden dirt of the forest.  The moon filtered down
through the trees, and the area was a little more lit than he remembered.

He sat up sharply as it all came flooding back to him.  "Oh, God."  He
grabbed his head in pain.

"Hey, hey, take it easy there," the steel voice he'd been confronted with
early was soft and open.  "You hit your head pretty hard."

Spencer looked up at the man that sat, crouched in front of him.  Spencer
pushed himself further away, startled slightly.  Every time he stared into
those eyes, it felt like dj vu.  He'd seen those eyes before, and lately,
they haunted his dreams.

The man's face was open and honest, the slightly smile on his lips inviting.
Spencer shook his head.

The man spoke, then.  "You know who I am, Spencer.  I saw it right before
you passed out."

"You're my father."

The man nodded.  Spencer cocked his head and for the first time in conscious
memory, registered, in person, the face that belonged to Fox Mulder.  His
eyes were set close over a proud nose and pouty lips.  His jaw was strong
and wide, the dark mole standing out on his peach flesh.  Spencer ran an
unsteady hand over his own jaw, then down his lips.

"Oh, God," he uttered again.

Mulder smiled unsteadily.  "You have no idea, Spencer, how long we've waited
for this."

"We." Spencer's voice trailed off.  "My mother."

Mulder nodded eagerly.  "She needs to know you're awake.  We were standing
guard in shifts with your friends."  Mulder stood and offered his hand.  The
offer was not insistent, and Mulder was letting Spencer take the lead.

Spencer began to reach unsteadily, then paused.  Mulder waited.  Spencer's
decision was made as he grasped Mulder's hand.

Mulder couldn't believe that his son's fingers wrapped completely around his
hand.  It was amazing.  Mulder helped Spencer off the ground and pulled him
in to his arms.  He laughed through his tears as the younger man's arms came
around his back.  "God, you're tall," Mulder laughed, his voice full of
wonder.

-----
Father and son came up behind Dana Scully quietly.  Mulder cleared his
throat softly and Scully turned.

"Time to change." her voice dropped off as her eyes shifted from the older
man to the younger one.  "Spencer," she whispered.

Spencer stood away from Mulder, coming to rest in front of the tiny woman
that looked back at him.  He found his eyes mirrored by hers.  Scully's hair
was still fiery red, and Spencer's was maybe two shades darker.

"Sit down," She ordered.  "You're bleeding."

Spencer obeyed without a word.  He closed his eyes as his mother's hands ran
down the back of his scalp.  Her touch was gentle, and yet, still firm.  A
doctor's touch, he knew.

"You might need stitches.  Mulder, we need to get him to the nearest
hospital-"

Mulder cut her off.  "Slow down, Scully.  He's not going to die."

"Mulder, I haven't seen my son in twenty-two years!  I'm not going to have
him fall into a coma just because we didn't take him to a hospital!"  Scully
glared at him, then turned back to Spencer, her eyes softening.

"Hi, Spencer."

Spencer laughed at the absurdity of the whole situation.  Twenty-two years,
and he finally met his parents in the woods in Oregon.  He held a gun on his
own father for crying out loud!  He laughed again and looked at Scully.
"Hi."

-----
Spencer had chosen to ride with Adrienne alone to the hospital.  He saw the
hurt fall over his parents' eyes, but he didn't feel up to talking, and his
head was spinning more from the recent circumstances than from any
concussion.

Adrienne glanced over at him from the driver's seat as they lead Jonas's car
back into town.  "Are you all right, Spencer?"

He sighed and rolled his eyes.

Adrienne nodded.  "Of course you're not all right."

"What happened after I blacked out?"

"I almost shot your father."

Spencer smiled.

Adrienne glanced over at him again.  "No, I'm serious.  I thought he'd shot
you.  Then, they both dropped their arms, and I didn't see a bullet wound.
I remembered the picture of them from your wallet, and I called Jonas off.

"They are really worried about something, Spencer.  They put us on guard as
soon as Dana patched your head up."

Spencer sighed again.  "I don't want to be in the hospital any longer than I
have too.  I just want to get to the hotel with those two and sort out some
things."

Adrienne agreed with him.  "I'll take Jonas and we can get coffee or
something, wait until the sun rises.  Maybe catch some sleep.  There is
still a case to solve."

"Look, Adrienne, I know this is a big favor to ask but-"

"No way," She interrupted him.  "I'm not playing referee between you and
your parents.  No way."

"Adrienne, either you or Jonas.  Please.  Look, you guys are the only thing
in my life right now that even bares resemblance to normal, okay?"  He
looked over at his partner.  "I'm scared.  I really am.  This is all way to
soon.  I thought I was ready, but I'm not, and now I know that, but-"

"Hey, buddy, calm down.  I'm there, okay?  I'm there."  She reached over and
grabbed his hand.  "I won't leave your side until you ask me to, okay?"

He smiled and chuckled.  "Why are you so good to me, Adrienne?"

Adrienne's gaze softened.  "Some day real soon, Spencer, I'll tell you about
Kyle."

Spencer turned serious and fixed his eyes on her profile.  "You're
ex-partner."

Adrienne winced.  "You did your homework.  Kyle Merchinson was my partner
about a year and a half ago.  And, some day, hopefully not a year and a half
from now, I'll tell you the story behind him."

Spencer frowned and looked forward.  He had read about Kyle in Adrienne's
personnel file.  He had been killed in the line of duty while on an FBI
raid.  Spencer hadn't bothered to look any further than that.  The logistics
hadn't concerned him at the time.  Now, he wondered if maybe he should have
looked when he had the chance.

Adrienne sensed his fretting and said, "You have much larger things to worry
about right now than an ex-partner of mine, Spencer."

Spencer nodded, but said, "Adrienne, I'm going to worry about you whether
you like it or not.  Just like I worry about Fletch.  You two are the
closest thing I have to a real family in my life right now.  Remember, I
just met those people, too."

"You've been searching for them for a while.  I would think they would mean
more to you than that," she chided.

"I don't know what to think," he confessed.  "I want to reach out like they'
re doing, but I can't get it out of my head that they left me on the
doorstep of some stranger when I was just a little kid."

"They had their reasons, I'm sure.  If not, then I'll personally kick their
asses."

Spencer smiled.

Adrienne gasped melodramatically.  "Look, Spencer, it's the hospital."

-----
The hospital had been a quick visit.  Adrienne pushed her way indoors and
flashed her badge and her gun.  After sending the staff into a momentary
panic, she calmed down enough to say that Spencer had been wounded in the
line of duty.  When the doctor complained about other, perhaps more critical
patients in the waiting room, Adrienne stormed through the doors.

She was greeted with an elderly man with a small cut on his forearm and a
child with scrapes on his knees.  She turned and looked blandly at the
doctor.  "Look, my partner has bled more in the last hour than those two
have bleed in the last week.  It'll take twenty minutes to stitch him up,
Doc.  What do you say?"

The doctor sighed in resignation.  "Come on, sir.  I'm going to need you to
fill out a couple of forms."

Adrienne smiled in victory and flashed Spencer a thumbs up.

Spencer smiled tightly.  His head hurt too much to laugh.

-----
Back in the hotel room, Mulder and Scully sat next to each other on one of
the beds.  Spencer pulled up the small desk chair to sit in front of them.
Adrienne stood off in the corner by herself.

Mulder looked over at the woman that seemed to have become one of his son's
best friends.

"She's staying," Spencer said simply.

Mulder nodded in agreement, and Scully took the lead in the conversation.
"Spencer, I know we have some explaining to do-"

"You're damn right you do," He butted in.

Scully wouldn't be pushed around.  "And if you'll stay quiet I could
probably begin to talk."

Chastised, Spencer sat back in the chair.

Scully began again.  "Twenty-two years ago, Spencer, Mulder and I were
offered a deal in exchange for your safety.  Alex Krycek, who by that time
had taken over the Consortium along with Marita Covarrubias, came to us with
a bargain.  If we would work on the cure for them then they would leave you
alone."

"The cure?  I'm afraid I'm not following.  Last I heard, the Cure was a
really old, bad rock band."

Scully rolled her eyes and glanced at Mulder.  "He has your sense of humor."

Mulder shrugged, then he spoke.  "Spencer, you've read about the alien
virus.  We have been in the process of developing a cure for that virus."

Spencer eyed him suspiciously.  "How do you know I've read about that?"

Mulder motioned to the dresser in the corner of the room.  "Scully's file is
on top of the desk, Spencer."

The young man groaned and shook his head.  "Sorry," he mumbled.

Scully chuckled.  "Don't worry about it.  Look, Spencer, the fact is, if we
didn't work for Them you would have been taken away.  Mulder and I couldn't
let you be experimented on, so we chose the trade.  We felt that, at the
time, it was our only option."

"And now?"

"Now, circumstances have intervened.  In the course of your reading, you may
have come across Tunguska."  Mulder's voice trailed off.

Spencer nodded.  "You were taken there in, what, 1996?"

Mulder spoke, "Yes, I was.  Then you've also read about the Black oil.  The
reason Scully and I were chosen to work for the Consortium is because we are
now immune to the alien virus.  Me, through experimentation in Tunguska, and
Scully, though Antarctica."

Spencer felt realization dawn and his mouth fell open.

Mulder bobbed his head eagerly.  "Now, you know."

"Oh my God," Spencer uttered.

"Someone care to clue me in?  I don't want to intrude or anything, but I'm a
little lost," Adrienne spoke up.

Spencer turned her way.  "My parents were immune to the alien virus."

"Yeah, Genius, I got that.  I can still hear outta this one," she pointed to
her right ear, her voice tinged with sarcasm.  "What are you so shocked
about?"

"Adrienne, think about it.  If they're immune then I'm-"

She cut him off, a look of wonder falling over her face.  "You're the first
child born immune to the virus."

The room grew silent.  Mulder and Scully looked on at their son as he
processed the information.

Spencer shook his head.  "If I was safe, though, why leave me?  There wasn't
a point to that."

"Yes, there was," Mulder began.  "Krycek only promised that he wouldn't look
for you.  If you were out in the open, you would have been anyone's game,
Spencer.  There are far more people after you than just the Consortium.  Not
only that, you've risked abduction all your life.  It was safer if you weren
't with us."

"We wouldn't just leave you," Scully spoke.  "You are our only son, Spencer.
It killed us to leave you with someone else."

Spencer was looking down at his palms folded on his lap.  "Look, I think I
can understand why you left me.  But right now, I just.  It's really hard
to." Spencer stammered.

"What he's trying to say is he doesn't forgive you yet, right Spence?"
Adrienne butted in.

"Thank you, Adrienne!" Spencer spoke sarcastically, then turned to Mulder
and Scully once more.  "I will forgive you.  I do forgive you.  What I'm is,
it's just going to take some time."

Mulder nodded in understanding.  Scully, too, was acquiescent to Spencer's
explanation.

Just as Spencer was about to speak again, the door swung up.  Fletch stood
in the entry.  "There's a man and a woman here that say they know you,
Spencer.  An Alex Krycek and I didn't catch the woman's name."

"Ah, hell," Mulder muttered and jumped up from the bed, Scully following
suit.

"Mulder, the bathroom."  She headed for the small room and Mulder followed
quickly.

"Get him outta here," Mulder said before closing the door.  "Krycek is not
here to help you, Spencer."

Moments later, Alex stepped in the room, followed by Marita.  "Well, well,
Spencer, we meet again."  Alex walked straight to the bathroom and knocked
on the door.

"You can come out, Mulder, Scully," he spoke.  "Your son hasn't learned to
sweep the room, yet."

Adrienne spoke up at that moment, catching sight of the small bugging device
on the television.  "Ah, shit, Spencer, look."

Just as she held the bug out to Spencer, the door burst open again.
Everyone in the room turned and Mulder and Scully came out of the bathroom
to see Walter Skinner and the Lone Gunmen spill through the doorway.

Krycek laughed.  "Well, we're having quite the reunion, I'd say."

END CHAPTER SEVEN