I am going to try and avoid the long intro demon.  This is a prologue to a 
longer case story I'm working on called "Mechanism."  When I was done, this 
turned out to be a bit of a saga in and of itself.  So, I gave it it's own 
name.  Goals you ask?  To stay true to the characters, provide some of my own 
personal insight into them, and take a slightly different stab at the whole 
relationship thing.  

Disclaimer:  Dana Scully, Fox Mulder, and all things X-File belong to the 
brilliant Chris Carter, Ten-Thirteen Productions, and Fox Broadcasting.  
Anything else is mine.  I have no intention of deriving any material profit 
from this in part because I don't have the drive or the connections.  I use 
the characters in admiration and for recreational purposes only...LITERARY 
recreation that is.

Spoilers: References to 2nd and 3rd season eps.

Timeline: Anywhere before "Talitha Cumi"

Rating: R: References to violence and adult/sexual situations.  MSR.  While 
on this topic.  There are references but no graphic descriptions.  If you're 
looking for that, there are those fanfictioneers who are much better at it 
than I am.  Please pay them a compliment and read their work.

**A Million Thanks to Fantazzma for her excellent eye and sense of character. 
There have been long diatribes over where our favorite duo is coming from and 
much of her insight has found its way into this.  Thanks for all of your 
detailed input and enthusiasm over this.  It has been appreciated.

Rare Captives: Mechanism Prologue
by S. Anderson

FBI District Office
Raleigh, NC
8:20 p.m.

        Gerald Taylor strolled the bull-pen of HIS district.  Agents parted 
as he headed for the glass case he called an office at the back of the huge 
area cris-crossed with standard issue cubicles.  Out of his peripheral 
vision, a flickering glow popped in the glasses he swore he didn't really 
need.  It was dancing above one of the "offices" in the far left corner.  
Merrill, had to be Merrill.

        Changing course, Special Agent in Charge Taylor pointed his slight 
gut in the vicinity of the distraction.  One day he vowed to make it back out 
to the track for a few sprints and a couple solid miles. 

        Don Merrill saw the dirty blonde hair before he heard his boss' 
voice.  "Merrill, if that's anything but evidence tape..."  Taylor rounded 
the corner to find the resident video specialist sandwiched between two 
monitors, only one of which should have been on.  With out looking up, 
Merrill nodded to the one in front of him and said, "This one's evidence."  
Pushing a thumb to the one behind, "That one's the national news."  Merrill 
was a stout, balding man who needed the road work worse than Taylor.  The 
fact that his cubicle was littered with Styrofoam food containers, each with 
a different colored sauce settled in the bottom was a major clue.

        "So, still saying 'three feet'?"  Taylor was all business while 
looking at the image on the screen with Merrill's attention.  The tape had 
caught the body's entire flight.  From the gurney to the wall, the nurse 
never hit the floor.   The present capture clearly showed both feet in 
mid-air.        

        "Three easy.  We should be getting the measurements from the 
forensics team anytime now."

        "Damn."  The word was a sigh out of Taylor's mouth.  He let the 
picture sink in another second before acknowledging the other monitor.  
"Anything newsworthy?" 

        "Believe it or not."  Merrill spun his chair around and grabbed one 
of several remotes during the trip.  "Some of our guys testified in the 
infant slayings up in Washington state today."  The program zipped in reverse 
while Merrill watched the VCR counter.  He hit stop just as the report began.

        An appropriately groomed female correspondent chimed in while the 
doors of the courthouse behind her swung open for a herd of law enforcement 
officials to emerge and gallop down the steps.  "Several federal 
investigators took the stand today for the grand jury hearing in the state's 
case against Alex Laddy.  Laddy was arrested last month for the murder of 
Justin Hanson, the three month-old boy who was found mutilated two days after 
his abduction from a local day-care center..."

        "Hey!...Wait!"  Taylor boomed and overpowered the sound.  "Back that 
up!"  Loose agents who were hanging around began to gather at the sound of 
the excitement.  Taylor scrutinized every pixel of the images.  They flew in 
reverse sending the herd of cops back up the stairs until he found him.  
"There!  Freeze it right there."  Taking a pencil from behind his ear, Taylor 
tapped one single, squinted face on the tube with it.

        The techie looked up from the screen.  "That's what you're looking 
for?  That guy?"  

        "Yep."  The SAC was supremely impressed with himself.  "He's one of 
ours.  So's she."  The pencil moved to a form shorter than the first.

        Merrill sounded as amused as his face appeared.  Turning back, he 
snorted at the bored, almost tired expression the subject carried like a 
weight.  Merrill's head was shaking, "He's wearing a trenchcoat for Godsake. 
 Jezzus, the guy's a walking stereotype."

        A slow, wide, satisfied grin spread trough Taylor's thin lips.  
Standing upright he shouted, "Can someone get me A.D. Skinner's office?"  He 
crouched back down and pointed at the man frozen on screen.  His next words 
were low and rhythmic like the beginning of a rambling story, "That's no 
stereotype...That's Fox Mulder."
        
                                                *****

Lamplight Motel
Olympia, Washington
12:05 am

        The air-conditioning unit under the window became a convenient 
make-shift seat.  There, Mulder could look out over the sparse traffic and 
still turn to see Scully's naked form asleep in his bed.  Enough light from 
the balcony poured in through the thin curtains that he could watch her 
shoulders rise and fall carrying her auburn hair with them.  The small, 
slender frame was turned in the darkness toward the door and away from where 
he had risen and dressed in his boxers and T-shirt.  In the month since they 
had become lovers, Mulder often awoke to find Scully that way.  In fact, they 
truly never slept "together."  Only once had morning found either touching 
the other.  The second time he had stayed with her, Mulder opened his eyes to 
their intertwined fingers on the pillow next to her still, blank face.

        It had all been a terrible mistake; making love with her that first 
time.  In a moment of need, he had reached for her to prove to both of them 
he was in control.  Mulder lied to himself in order to hear the excuses about 
how it wouldn't make any real difference.  Bureau policy never phased him 
where Scully was concerned.  What had been so much more effective in keeping 
him away from her was the terror.  Mulder had lost her once; had seen her 
life threatened before his eyes countless times.  Once, the instrument was 
trembling in his own grip.  And after four years of working together, he was 
convinced that allowing them an intimate touch would make him powerless.  

        He remembered the insanity in a Georgetown hospital, the burning need 
to see their blood.  He remembered having to make himself think around 
onslaughts of worry while Pfaster ached to kill her.  Those few moments used 
to be enough to make him hold Scully at arms length.  If their power waned, 
the questions would begin.  What if he gave in and she was willing?  Then the 
answers: To see her skin react to his hands, hear her voice crack as he 
pushed her over the edge would have made him numb; would  make him twelve 
years old when the shadows came after them.   And stronger than the comfort 
of shared desire, was the fear in the knowledge that the cowards were coming 
again.  The taboo broken, Mulder fully expected to be paralyzed when they 
arrived. 

        The press dubbed them the Baby Block Murders.  Within two months, 
three infants had been kidnaped from child care facilities in various states. 
 Each were found days later in remote, woodland sites.  The lungs of each 
child had been removed with a decidedly sharp instrument.  At first, Scully 
thought it was scalpel.  Later, she would discover it was an Exacto knife 
available anywhere.  In every case, a small wood block was found in the body 
cavity.  The sides of the blocks appeared to have been carved by hand and 
decorated with toys and animals.  Always, two of the sides were carved with 
the last initial of the child's name and painted in blue or pink pastel.  Two 
pinks, one blue.  Two perfect tiny girls, one perfect tiny boy.

        Violent Crimes became involved due to the viciousness of the acts and 
the fact that one of the bodies had been transported across state lines from 
Washington into Oregon before being dumped.  After Bill Patterson was 
officially committed,  Fox Mulder became their resource man until a new head 
of the Investigative Support Services could be named to Quantico.  While a 
compliment, Mulder lost nearly all time for the X-Files; a fact which didn't 
seem to bother Scully at all.

        Exhausted, he threw himself into the case with abandon.  The quicker 
they were done, the quicker they could return to the basement.  Thrown too 
far and too deep, Mulder became lost in the details.  He missed meetings with 
coroners and local investigators.  The cellular in his overcoat rang non-stop 
as others, including his partner tried to play catch-up with his leads.  
While in San Diego, Scully found him slumped under a table in the UCSD 
library.  Thirty-six straight hours of research in psychosis induced 
pedophilia spilled down and around him like a pathetic blanket.  When he 
awoke to her rapid-fire shoves, even the exhausted haze couldn't blind him to 
the grief on Scully's face.  It was blatant and instant.  But, she became 
naggingly patient from that moment on.  Mulder kept waiting for another 
speech, for her to beg him to stop, yet the pleas never came.  

        Her resignation had begun soon after arriving in San Diego in the 
police department's evidence room, when she caught him daring the abyss to 
swallow him into the silence that was almost metallic.  Scully knelt behind 
him and looked over the shoulders moving gingerly.  He sat silently with the 
blocks on the floor in the middle of the steel shelves.  One after the other 
took their turn on top of his small, three story tower.  A faint tap escaped 
with each move in the meticulous little ritual.  Mulder's eyes followed the 
contour of the grain in the wood.  When the rest of the world melted away, 
the dark and light swirls became a little landscape.  The terrain called to 
him for a run or a climb where he could corner this bastard and make the 
killer eat the grieving screams of six young parents.

        Reaching around him, Scully's single finger knocked the tower over.  
It was immediately seized and bent back away from his work.  Mulder turned to 
scream in indignation, but her voice beat him to it with a heat to make 
Skinner proud.  "This didn't work for Mastow and it will not work NOW!"  
Pushing him back against the floor, Scully stood and fished violently in her 
clothes for a receipt.  With a flick of her wrist, it spun down to land on 
his chest.  "I found this in the trash can in the office.  I thought it was 
strange one of us would have a bag from Schuler's Toys.  What did you buy 
there Mulder?"  Her tone told him she already knew.  "But they weren't enough 
were they?"  Scully began to pace.  The volume of her voice had not dropped 
and two agents came to the top of the row to see what was going on.  Scully 
flared and ordered them to mind their own business.  Turning back,  "They 
weren't good enough, so you had to touch the real thing.  Didn't you!?"  
Mulder stared and thought about how he didn't have time for this.  He would 
soon make it.  Scully stopped her pointless marching and revealed steel blue 
eyes cold enough to shake her partner with the consequences of his 
selfishness, "I won't do this again.  You have to know that and be certain of 
it."

        "You won't leave."  Mulder was trying to convince himself now.  Any 
ploy would do to fend off the panic.  But, he was good.  So good at hiding it 
all and the declaration came out smug; biting of a dare.  

        Her retreat halted abruptly at the top of the row.  Turning back to 
him, Scully took a few steps forward.  With a rigid chin and eyes that never 
blinked or shifted from Mulder's face, she began to recite without a pause or 
an "uhm"...

"To: Assistant Director Walter Skinner
From: Special Agent Dana Scully

Re: Current Assignment to X-Files Project

Dear Assistant Director Skinner:

For the past four years, I have served the Bureau as a field agent working on 
the X-Files project.  During this period, I have been challenged by the most 
difficult cases of my, if not any agent's entire career.  I have valued every 
moment of my time with these cases and my partner, Fox Mulder.  I believe the 
experience has pushed my skills to the limit of their proficiency.

However, I have recently come to be concerned over the actions of my partner 
and our working dynamic.  While he remains an exceptional investigator, his 
pace and style often conflict with mine to the point that I am excluded from 
portions of investigations and am unaware of his actions for extended periods 
of time.  It is my professional opinion that it is no longer beneficial or 
safe for both Agent Mulder and I to continue working together.  In deference 
to his seniority on the X-Files, I am requesting to be transferred to Violent 
Crimes so that I may further my career as a field agent.

Sincerely
Special Agent Dana Scully"

        Every agent knew what it meant to be afraid, you tasted it whenever 
you went through a door or took a suspect to the ground.  Being prepared for 
it was like part of the everyday routine.  But, at hearing her well rehearsed 
words, Mulder felt terror.  Scully meant them intimately, more intimately 
than anything she had ever said to him.  More so than calling him "Ahab."  
The struggle to engage denial began immediately.  He told himself she was 
overreacting; trying to manipulate him.  But, she was too confident.  This 
was out of left field for him, but she had been living with the idea of 
walking away for some time.  He managed, "Scully..."

        As she turned and resumed her exit, she cut him off with the same 
clear, aching tone.  "You know Mulder part of me hopes you never find her."  
Mulder swallowed anything he might of said.  "Because if you do, this is all 
you'll have left...sitting in darkrooms trying to crawl inside the hearts of 
other men because you don't have one of your own."

        Scully never looked back.  

        Mulder's eyes followed her through the spaces between the boxes and 
cases lining the shelves of the morbid little warehouse; catching a flash of 
red or the navy in her suit.  Before the door closed he felt that perhaps 
catching her off guard was the only way to make her stay and catching her off 
guard at this moment meant getting even more personal.  Urgently he called, 
"Why does matter Scully?!  Why does it even matter?!"
 
        The walking away was all he got and it lasted forever.

end of "Rare Captives" (1/2)

"I made this!"

Anderson
andersks@unity.ncsu.edu

All comments welcomed and even wished for.  

More Anderson stories: Her Own Path, Tapped, Falling, and A Memory of Yours. 
All available at Vincent's Amazing Archive until its sad demise or I'll send them to you.  Just ask (I'd be thrilled-gotta get out more).

PS: This is first time posting from this machine.  Someone let me know if the formatting came through OK.  Thanks

Rare Captives: Mechanism Prologue (2/2)
by S. Anderson

Disclaimer in Part 1

        Four silent days later, Alex Laddy was arrested inside the Potter Day 
Care Center in Seattle, Washington.  He would be arrested for attempted 
kidnaping and charged with three homicides.  Mulder's work, his obsession was 
for naught regardless of the fact that his profile fit the man perfectly.  In 
fact, Laddy had been working alone.  He had been trapped in a state of 
tortured mourning since the death of his own son due to SIDS; an event that 
left him emotionally bankrupt and in the middle of a divorce.  Arriving alone 
to participate in the interrogation, Mulder found a man he understood too 
well: a man who would do anything to make the pain of loss go away, even if 
it meant risking everything and causing more pain to make him forget.

        Following the questioning, Mulder had felt a freedom, a rush.  
Fighting back the demons after allowing them to taste you was a supreme 
triumph.  The rush ended with the realization of what the battle might have 
cost him.  Scully had made no more comments regarding a decision to leave.  
She had followed without commentary through the rest of the case.  There were 
no more theories of her own, no more questions or challenges.  Scully became 
nothing more than an assistant at her own choosing.  The weight of her 
behavior was not lost on her partner.  Scully had never been a follower and 
the fact that she seemed content to fill that role was proof positive she had 
made a decision.  She was simply waiting for the changes in both their lives 
to begin.

        As he drove back to their hotel in Seattle, Mulder replayed the 
thoughts that had dominated his brain those past four days.  Dana Scully, 
whether intentionally or not, had become his only anchor.  Mulder had always 
known he tempted fate.  Why?  Why was it necessary to beat his chest in the 
middle of the evil men could do?  Because he could win those games.  With the 
power of his mind or the brute of his body, it was possible to overcome the 
little devils of ordinary men.  They had no power except for their sickness 
and no accomplices to cover their tracks.  For Mulder to take on the darkness 
and win meant it was possible yet to slay the giants.  Never mattered when he 
started leaving pieces behind.  This was especially true when his partner had 
made her entrance into his life.  Her faith and trust made him worthy to 
carry on the fight to find the truth and to find Samantha.  Scully would heal 
his wounds and give him strength.  When he saw despair draw her mouth tight, 
saw her eyes beg for him to let go, he knew there was light waiting for him. 
 He knew there was someone, good and whole waiting for him to take her hand 
and come home.  Home.  She had become home.  Whether it was the noble thing 
to do or not, he would hold onto it.


        The hotel bar was serving as her refuge when he found her.  Sitting 
with a soda and legal pad, Scully sat in immaculate condition at a high 
table; writing diligently.  Muffled conversation and the occasional clink of 
glass could be heard as Mulder approached and sat down across from her.  She 
acknowledged his presence with a quick glance and sterile "Hi, how'd it go?"

        A passing waitress in a faux tux and apron caught Mulder's abrupt 
order for a scotch before he answered.  "The usual.  I raved.  He denied.  I 
pounded things.  He broke down."  Leaning into her space across the polished 
surface of the table, "Confidentially, I think I earned my Perry Mason 
badge."  A quick twist of his lips signed the joke she was ignoring.  He 
retreated, "At least I got to play 'bad cop'."  Mulder's chin jerked toward 
the pad, "What's that?"

        "My field report.  I wanted to have a rough draft done before the 
trip back."

        Damn-it-all, she wasn't even trying to pretend.  "Guess you wouldn't 
want anything to hinder a hasty retreat."  There was venom there, a 
bitterness Mulder never used with his partner, but she had heard directed at 
suspects and enemies.

        Startled by the change, Scully calmly ceased her work and replaced 
the cap on the pen.  Her voice was the ultimate professional cool, "Mulder I 
refuse to get into this with you here."

        "So where and when are we gonna talk about this?!"  Mulder threw his 
arms into the air and barely missed the drink being set on their table before 
the waitress beat a path to safety.  "You don't seriously expect me to just 
let this ride do you?"  He was leaning back into her space again.

        He saw the something snap in his partner.  Through a tight jaw and 
fused teeth, she attacked with grace, "Why not Mulder?  You seem so content 
to let yourself and everything else around you spin out of control.  Why not 
this?  Here," Scully threw her pen at him and it bounced off his chest.  
"Maybe you can use that to get into MY head.  Then you'll get your answers 
and I can avoid an interrogation."  The words had gotten louder with each 
syllable and other patrons were noticing.  Didn't matter.  "No more Mulder.  
No more.  Determination burned in her stomach and the sadness in her voice.  
"Maybe it's my fault for getting too close, but I have.  I can't watch you 
spin out of control anymore."  A low, strangled gasp chased the truth out of 
her mouth.  The swallow to gain her composure was audible.  Her eyes were 
wide and distorted with anger as she continued, "Do you even realize how 
powerless you make me when you practically dare men like Alex Laddy to take 
you away.  The other day I saw a man begging three little idols to show him 
everything.  To show him into this killer's little world.  And I can not 
determine what made me hate you more: that I knew you wouldn't let me help 
you or that you did it all knowing you were leaving me behind."  Scully rose 
abruptly to leave and take the last words with her.

        Committed to fighting her, Mulder caught her upper arm before she 
could escape,  The grip was as painful as it was suddenly promising.  Pulling 
her closer, cream colored material from the jacket she wore billowed between 
each of his fingers.  But the power in this hands went unmatched by the 
hypnotic power being born in his voice, "You never answered my question that 
day."  Mulder's eyes slowly stroked the length and breadth of her entire face 
commanding Scully to look at him.  It was important she know he was fully 
aware of what he was doing and that would happen when she looked into him.

        "What 'question', Mulder?  What day?"  She was lying.  She knew.  
Avoidance ran down her face like sweat.

        If it was possible, his voice had grown softer and more insistent.  
"Why did it really matter?  Why was it so painful for you?"

        She shook her head and yanked her arm against his hand.  "I just..."

        "No."  His head was shaking in time with hers; taking over the pace 
and slowing them both down while his pulse was beginning to pound and roll 
through his veins.  "Come on Scully. You've been brave so far.  Give me the 
rest of it...what've you got to lose?"  

        Her blue, fragile eyes were frantic for anything to save her from 
Mulder's growing gentle assault.  The next words from her lips were meant to 
fend him off, but they were tiny and only served to make her weaker.  "You 
can't possibly expect me to watch you destroy yourself anymore over this 
case...or anything else."  She didn't need to say Samantha's name.  "It would 
be impossible and incredibly selfish.  It would destroy me too.  Not even YOU 
are that selfish..." 

        She was so quiet, so scared that he found himself hurting for her.  
Drawing her shoulder next to his, her cheek close enough to feel the excited 
fever in his face, Mulder saw the opportunity to put his terror to rest and 
caressed the outer curve of her ear with the very tip of his nose.  In 
nothing but a whisper, "Dr. Scully, you have no idea how selfish I can be..." 
 A choice of his own was made as the heat of anger and disappointment began 
to mix between them and envelope them in something very different: 
anticipation; the kind of anticipation that wore you down from the second it 
began and became more maddening with every one that past.  Finally, in 
desperate surrender, Scully returned her eyes to his. 

        A familiar song was playing itself out in that gaze, and not a single 
other person in the bar could hear it.  Dana Scully and Fox Mulder were 

weighing the dangers again.  Mulder felt the physical need beg him for the 
chance to be with her.  The urge grew painful in the knowledge that he was 
truly willing this time.  If she were going to leave, he told himself, it 
wouldn't matter.  She would be gone anyway.  If it made her stay, sex was 
easier than being truly vulnerable and at least he would have the one person 
who kept him sane.  And as she refused to look away and her eyes grew larger 
and deeper, making love was the only thing Mulder could be sure she was 
offering.

        Releasing her arm, he dropped his hand and took hers gently.  Laying 
ten dollars on the table for the drinks, they headed out of the bar and back 
to the elevator reveling in the protection silence provided.  Looking back 
now, he thought it had all been one fluid motion, from the bar to his room to 
undressing each other in the dark to feeling Scully surround him.

        Both may have wanted to be there, but the movements and rhythm soon 
became all about her.  Despite his seductive words he set about proving he 
was present, in command, and able to think about someone else.  Every ounce 
of concentration Mulder had focused on holding back and giving her everything 
she wanted and needed to find release.  After her tremors had subsided, he 
allowed himself to let go and quickly withdrew to deal with the guilt.  At 
least in the act, he tried to console himself, he had been selfless.  

        Not until days later had Mulder realized he had found only one moment 
of joy in the first time with the woman he had built a life around.  Once 
they knew it was going to happen, something took over and prevented either 
from looking at the other.  Maybe if they didn't surrender to seeing the 
truth in each other's faces, what they were about to do wouldn't be real and 
could be forgotten.  This particular lie was shattered in the seconds before 
she came.  As if called, their eyes found each other while his face hovered 
just above hers.  When Scully finally surrendered to the demands of her body 
a spark fired in the darkness of her full, wide pupils.  And Mulder believed 
he caught her soul dancing.   

        It was like trying to catch fireflies after dark in the middle of any 
humid early summer night.  A boyhood Fox ran wildly at the excitement of 
seeing the creature taunting him for a moment.  But more often than not, the 
glow was gone before eager hands could seize the delicate prize.  Still, 
there were those times when cupped hands opened to find exactly what he had 
reached for.  As exciting as these rare captives were they would invariably 
die in air-tight jars.  Fox always forgot the holes.

        Listening to her fall asleep in the aftermath tonight, a month later, 
a heavy question settled around a grown Fox Mulder pulling him away from the 
space they shared to sit by a cold window.  No matter how much he treasured 
those flashes of promise, if they continued this way, would he eventually 
suffocate those sparks in Dana Scully too?

        A sharp ring burst from Mulder's clothing on the chair beside the 
bed.  Scrambling from his perch, he snatched the cellular before it could 
ring again.  Before answering, he took a second to watch Scully stir briefly 
and contract into a smaller, rounder form under the covers.

        "Mulder," he whispered while moving for the privacy of the bathroom.

        "This is Assistant Director Skinner.  Why are you whispering Agent 
Mulder?"  Mulder's eyes searched for a lie in the bathroom mirror.

        "Sorry..."  A fake cough was forced.  "I was asleep.  Can I help you 
sir?"

        "Agent Mulder, I've farmed you and Agent Scully out to the Raleigh, 
North Carolina office for a homicide investigation..."

        Mulder interrupted his superior with a tone that was more than a 
little indignant.  "North Carolina?  Sir, Scully and I just finished grand 
jury hearings today.  You want us to fly cross country for another case 
before returning to D.C.?"

        Skinner let the insubordination go and continued, "...you'll be 
leaving in the morning and will need to contact Special Agent Gerald Taylor 
when you arrive.  He's the SAC in Raleigh.  I understand both you and your 
partner are going to be rushed, but I believe you would want this one 
Mulder."

        "Why's that?"  

        "Because it has the markings of a real X-File for a change.  Thought 
a dose of nostalgia would do you some good."

        Mulder sobered quickly.  In fact, it had been too long since the last 
one.  He could feel the familiar anticipation stir in his stomach.  "We'll 
try and make arrangements tonight."

        "Fine.  See you when you return.  Goodnight Agent Mulder."  Skinner 
was gone and Mulder leaned over the sink to splash cold water on his face.  
Straightening back up to face the mirror, tiny droplets ran along his jaw 
line before plunging back into the basin.  Now, he had to wake up Scully.  It 
never occurred to him to ask why his boss was still working after midnight.

        Moving back out to the bedroom, he saw her more fully in the navy 
haze.  Returning to his side of the bed, Mulder waited a few more seconds to 
watch her breathe deep peaceful breaths before rousing her.  The pale white 
skin eased back and forth over the muscles in her shoulders.  Mulder tugged 
gently at the sheet and eased it down to expose the rest of her back, his 
favorite part of her body.  The material sighed against her.  More tone and 
definition in her frame belied the strength most would not have attributed to 
this woman.  He wondered if anyone else could appreciate the paradox of force 
and beauty she presented.  Reaching out to trace one of the faint curves, he 
was startled by her voice, "When do we leave?"

        Mulder immediately withdrew the caress before it began.  Only when 
and if she wanted it, he thought.

        "Could probably catch a flight around 7:00.  That was Skinner.  
Request came in from Raleigh.  Like grits Scully?"

        "Not particularly. No."  Scully brushed the waves of hair from her 
eyes as she rolled over and drew the covers up around her breasts and under 
her arms.  Mulder was bereft, but stamped the emotion down before it ever 
played on his face.

        "More for me then."  The half-smile offered, he stood.  "I was going 
to wake you to pack so we won't have to scramble in the morning."  He 
preceded to gather her clothes and half fold them.  Scully would have to go 
back to her room to get her things ready.  She wouldn't be back.  He lay the 
pants and blouse gently across her legs and returned to the bathroom to offer 
her privacy while she dressed.  Mulder had yet to figure out why they could 
feel each other naked in the confusion of passion, but found it shameful to 
be nude afterwards.

        He heard her call through the door.  "What about the hearing?"

        "We're done for this phase anyway.  They won't need us back here 
until the trial.  If he takes a deal, we'll still have 30 to 60 days before 
sentencing."  The door to the room opened and closed to herald a hasty 
retreat and that it was safe for him to come out.

        Her presence still lingered in the quiet air and the bed was still 
warm with her smell when Mulder crawled back in.  Chances were he'd be awake 
in a couple hours anyway, might as well pack then.  He coiled a bit to fit 
into the space Scully had occupied and drifted off content to make the best 
of what she left behind.
***

end of "Rare Captives" (2/2)

Watch for Mechanism...Mulder and Scully head to Raleigh (my back yard!) to 
investigate an engineer who's stolen schematics for a device that's gotten 
out of his control; a device that may hold answers for Scully.  And Scully 
meets a young lady that knows too much...about everyting.

Be patient.  I'll finish it.  But not tomorrow.

"I made this!"

Anderson
andersks@unity.ncsu.edu

All comments welcomed and even wished for.  

More Anderson stories: Her Own Path, Tapped, Falling, and A Memory of Yours. 
All available at Vincent's Amazing Archive until its sad demise or I'll send 
them to you.  Just ask (I'd be thrilled-gotta get out more).