From: lcooksey@mindspring.com (Laura Cooksey)
Newsgroups: alt.tv.x-files.creative
Subject: Miracles, part 1 of 7
Date: 14 May 1995 17:31:00 GMT


Laura Cooksey
lcooksey@mindspring.com

X-Files characters (c) Ten-Thirteen, Chris Carter, and 20th
Century Fox, and used without permission. No copyright
infringement is intended.

The author welcomes comments at her e-mail address.

                      Miracles
                         by
                     Laura Cooksey
     
Tuesday, August 8, 1995. FBI Headquarters, Washington, DC.

     Fox Mulder looked up from the paperwork at his desk in
the cluttered X-Files office. Dana Scully, his fellow FBI
agent, who was also a physician, was engrossed in an article
in the New England Journal of Medicine. She had, in fact, been
reading the magazine for the past hour. "What _are_ you
reading, Scully?"
     "Hmm?" She looked up, a little distracted. "Oh, it's an
article on statistical analysis of medical data. You know how
some areas of the country have much higher incidences of
certain diseases?" Mulder nodded, and Scully continued. "A
group of medical statisticians at Johns Hopkins were examining
data from a number of studies, looking at the methods used,
trying to find any flaws in procedures that would account for
statistically significant variations by accident."
     "And find ways to re-examine existing data to produce
more accurate results?" Mulder suggested.
     "Right. Well, they looked at three studies that had found
significantly above-average incidences of leukemia, and one
study with an average incidence of cases. Upon rechecking the
data, they found one small area -- in the study with an average
incidence -- with a rate of leukemia _remission_ that was 2.3
times normal. In the article they cite it as an example of
normal statistical variation in medical data."
     "Depending on your definition of normal. Where was the
area with the high rate of remission?"
     Scully flipped through the pages of the magazine.
"Western Pennsylvania. The data came from a study by ColeMed
Pharmaceuticals of long-term results of chemotherapy on
leukemia. The Johns Hopkins team double-checked the data, even
interviewed some of the patients again. But they didn't turn
up any errors in the data or the analysis. It's just a fluke."
     "ColeMed?" Mulder thought for a minute. "Near New
Castle?"
     "Yeah," Scully replied. "Why?"
     "ColeMed sounds familiar. Give me a minute." Mulder got
out of his chair and walked along the row of filing cabinets
in the office. Stopping, he pulled out a drawer and began
thumbing through the hanging files inside. Pulling out a file,
he scanned the papers in the folder. "Here it is. Five years
ago there was a rumor in the UFO community that ColeMed was
experimenting with alien tissue cultures. An independent
researcher, Alan D'Abruzzo, went to investigate ColeMed. He
was killed in a carjacking on the Pennsylvania Turnpike."
     Scully took the folder as Mulder offered it to her,
opened to the police report. "That sounds like quite a
coincidence. I don't think I've ever heard of a carjacking on
an interstate highway before." She scanned the file. "Did he
ever get to ColeMed? There's no mention of the company in this
report."
     Mulder took the folder back, skimmed it once more, then
closed it. "I don't know, Scully. Want to find out?"
     "Are you serious? You want to go all the way to New
Castle based on a statistical fluke and a coincidence?"
     Mulder grinned at her. "Do you have better plans? We've
got an unsolved murder, possibly conspiracy to commit murder,
and a rumor of alien tissue samples. How can I resist?
Besides, if we stay up there a week or two, we can go to
Pennsic."
     "Okay. But _you_ get to make the travel arrangements this
time. I also think we should talk to the researchers at Johns
Hopkins first. I'll call and see if they can fax me some
information on the ColeMed study."
     "Good. I'll talk to some of my UFO contacts and see what
they know."
                               
                          **********
                               
Thursday, August 10, 1995. Pennsylvania Turnpike.

     "What's the matter, Mulder?"
     "Nothing. I'm just trying to get figure out where all the
controls are on this car. You know how it is with rentals."
Scully nodded with a grin, and opened the glove box, looking
for a manual. "I tried that when I picked up the car," he
said. "No luck."
     He glanced at her briefly before changing the topic. "So,
what was in that ream of papers Johns Hopkins FedExed to you
yesterday afternoon?"
     Scully pulled some of the papers out of her briefcase.
"There were a spate of leukemia remissions starting in March
1989 and continuing through July 1991. ColeMed was starting a
study of long-term effects of chemotherapy on leukemia
patients. They examined a number of patients from hospitals in
Western Pennsylvania and Eastern Ohio.
     "Listen to some of these interviews with patients and
their families: 'I'd been fighting the cancer for almost three
years, and the chemo always left me weak. But then I started
to feel better, and the doctors told me I was in remission. It
was a miracle.' Here's another: 'My son saw an angel in his
dreams. His blood was almost normal the next day. Two weeks
later he was fine. God answered our prayers.'"
     "But you think it's just one end of a normal bell curve,"
he said.
     Scully nodded. "If you flip a coin enough times, you
might end up with a string of 100 heads in a row. It's
unlikely, but not impossible. And it doesn't mean that
anything abnormal or supernatural is happening."
     They drove for a couple of hours, checked into their
hotel, then visited the local police.
                               
                          **********
                               
Friday, August 11, 1995. ColeMed Pharmaceuticals.

     Scully and Mulder drove to the main offices of ColeMed,
on the edge of New Castle. The offices were in a nondescript
building in a small office park. "Not very impressive," Mulder
commented. They entered the lobby and approached the
receptionist.
     Scully flashed her ID. "Good morning. I'm FBI Special
Agent Dana Scully, and this is Special Agent Fox Mulder. We
have an appointment to see Mr. Philips, your head of
personnel."
     The receptionist checked her computer. "According to
this, the appointment has been changed to Dr. Akerson, our
head of research and development. His office is on the third
floor, room 303. If you'll sign in and take visitor badges
first, the elevator is just around the corner to your right."
     Both agents complied, noting the change in plans with
interest. The elevator doors closed with just the two of them
inside and they got off on the third floor. Akerson's office
was large and overlooked the park in the center of the office
complex. His secretary announced them, then escorted them into
the room. Dr. Akerson, a medium-sized man in his mid-fifties,
with salt-and-pepper hair, stood up as they entered.
     Mulder introduced himself and Scully. Dr. Akerson invited
them to sit. "Please, make yourselves comfortable. I
understand from Mr. Philips that you'd like to see a list of
all the employees that were at ColeMed during the period from
June to September of 1990."
     "That's right," Mulder said. "We're investigating the
murder of a researcher who was supposed to have visited
ColeMed during that period. We'd like to find out if he
actually talked to anyone here."
     Dr. Akerson shifted in his chair. "Of course, I'd like to
help the FBI with its investigation, but without a court
order; well, you understand. Personnel records are
confidential."
     "Of course, Doctor." Scully pulled their court order out
of her bag. "Would you like to have your legal staff review
this?"
     "Not at all, Agent Scully." Akerson glanced at the
document briefly. "I'm certain everything is in order." He
stood up. "If you'll follow me, I'll walk you up to the
records room on the sixth floor. I'm sure we can get you set
up with everything you need."
     The three of them rode up to the sixth floor, where Dr.
Akerson led them to Mr. Philips office. "John," Akerson said,
"could you get one of your people to help Agents Scully and
Mulder, please?"
     "Of course," Philips replied. He selected a man in his
early twenties and introduced him to the group in his office.
"Mr. Mulder, Ms. Scully, this is Paul Wiedlander, one of my
MIS staff. Paul, this is Dr. Akerson, our head of R&D, and FBI
Agents Scully and Mulder. I'd like you to help them get a list
of personnel out of the computer system. They'll let you know
exactly what they need."
     Wiedlander looked nervous, getting far more excitement
than he was accustomed to. "Yes, sir, Mr. Philips." He flipped
his ponytail over his shoulder self-consciously, unaccustomed
to dealing with people outside the company.
     Akerson led the three of them back down the hall past the
elevator to the records room. "Well, I'm certain Mr.
Wiedlander can help you from here. If you have any questions,
or need anything, just ring my secretary, and I'll make
certain you get the help you need. I hope you find what you're
looking for."
     "Thank you, Dr. Akerson," Mulder said.
     The room was huge, taking up half of the floor, with
filing cabinets, book cases and a few computers on modular
desks. There was a small room that could be entered via a door
in the wall to their right. Wiedlander plopped down in front
of one of the PCs and logged in. Scully pulled up a chair to
observe, and Mulder hovered over her shoulder. "Now, what
records are you folks looking for?" Wiedlander asked.
     "All the employees that worked here during the period of
June to September of 1990," Scully said.
     "Gotcha," he replied. With a few mouse clicks he fired up
the Windows program that served as the front-end to the
personnel database. "You folks are lucky. We just got the last
of the archived personnel records transferred off of hardcopy
six months ago."
     As he was selecting the data they needed, the computer
beeped. He did one of those annoying things computer gurus do:
switching from the program he was in to the email program,
checking the message that came in, answering it, and switching
back to the database in the span of just a few seconds.
     "What was that?" Scully asked, amused.
     "Hmm? Oh, sorry. That was my friend, Pidge. She was just
letting me know that she was coming up to see me. She's
Akerson's foster daughter."
     "Does she work in the building?" Mulder asked.
     Wiedlander laughed. "No, sir. She's only eighteen. She's
autistic and skittish, but very smart. She likes to hang out
in the library, which they're moving into here, now that a lot
of the paper records are being warehoused." He nodded toward
the books on the shelves in the back half of the room. "We eat
lunch together and talk about computers, when Akerson's in
town."
     "That's interesting," Scully said. Wiedlander seemed
friendly and full of information. She decided to take
advantage of those two traits. "We were curious how we ended
up talking to Dr. Akerson after we made an appointment with
your boss, Mr. Philips."
     "Oh, Akerson's got his finger in everything outside of
the main office of ColeMed. The HQ is in Pittsburgh, but the
labs are all here and north of here. Akerson is a hot-shot
researcher, and a micro-manager." The latter was obviously a
characteristic of which he disapproved. "He's always nervous
abut the company image. Doesn't surprise me a bit that he'd
take charge if he found out two FBI agents were interested in
ColeMed employees."
     The door opened and a blur in blue scrubs shot into the
room. A very slender young woman just under five feet tall
braked to a halt just shy of the desk they were using. She
looked startled to see people besides her friend in the room.
Wiedlander greeted her. "Hi, Pidge. I'm kinda busy right now,
but maybe we can get together a little later, okay?"
     She nodded, her short, dark brown hair bobbing with the
motion. "I'll be back in the stacks," she said in a soft voice
and disappeared down an aisle.
     As she turned to go, Mulder could see a tracking band
around her right ankle. The kind of thing used with prisoners
on work-release programs to make sure they don't escape. "Mr.
Wiedlander," he started to say.
     "Please, just Paul."
     "Paul, what was that on her ankle?" Mulder asked in a low
voice, not wanting to upset the young woman, if she was still
in earshot.
     Paul sighed as he continued to work on the computer.
"Pidge has tried to run away a few times. Dr. Akerson had a
security system installed to keep track of her both here and
at his house. He takes her to work with him everyday. I kind
of feel sorry for him; she's a real handful, I'm sure. Not
that I don't feel sorry for her," he added hastily. "It's a
shame."
     "Has she gotten any professional help?" Scully asked.
     Wiedlander shrugged. "I think so. Dr. Akerson can
certainly afford it." He finished typing and punched the
return key authoritatively. "This is going to take a while. We
should get the first few records back in less than a minute,
but it will take the next half-hour or so to get them all. The
database is too big, and our server is seriously overloaded. I
keep telling Philips to upgrade, but you know how that goes,"
he said, secure that bureaucracy was the same everywhere.
"I'll print the job out when it's done. You can come back by
later to pick it up. I'd be happy to give you a call."
     Scully smiled at him and examined the interface of the
program carefully. "Is it okay if we browse through the data
that comes back? I might want to print it out later, but we
can probably eliminate a number of the records first. No point
in wasting paper."
     He frowned for a moment, then shrugged. "Sure. I was
supposed to be talking to a contractor about expanding our
WAN; our Wide Area Network. Let me give him a call and
cancel."
     "You don't have to," she said. "I'm sure we'd be all
right on our own for a little while."
     "Really? That would be great. I guess I should have
logged you into a guest account, instead of my own account.
Don't mess anything up and get me in trouble!" he said with a
laugh. "I'll use the phone in the adjacent office. Just knock
on the door if you have problems."
     "I don't think we'll have any trouble with it," Scully
said. "It looks pretty straightforward." Wiedlander got up and
headed into the small adjoining office, while Mulder sat down
in the chair he had vacated. The ColeMed employee hesitated in
the doorway of the other room for a moment. "Um, I should
mention that Pidge is especially skittish around male
strangers. No offense," he said to Mulder.
     "That's okay. None taken," Mulder responded. He waited
for Wiedlander to close the door behind him, then turned to
Scully. "I don't think she's autistic."
     "Neither do I," Scully replied. "Do you believe that
business about the security system?"
     "I have my doubts. Why don't you see if you can get her
to talk to you, Scully. I'll dig through the records here and
see if anything promising turns up."
     Scully wandered back through the bookcases and found
Pidge with her feet propped up on a desk, a large book in her
lap. Pidge's head snapped around nervously as the FBI agent
came into view.
     "Sorry. I didn't mean to startle you," Scully said. "What
are you reading?"
     Pidge cleared her throat. "Um, it's a reference on
diagnosing and treating arthritis."
     "Osteoarthritis or rheumatoid?"
     "Both," Pidge said. She took her feet off of the desk and
sat up in the chair. "What are you guys doing with Paul?"
     "We're FBI Agents. I'm Special Agent Scully and my
partner is Special Agent Mulder. We need to talk to people who
were ColeMed employees about five years ago, so Mr. Wiedlander
is helping us with the personnel database."
     "Are you really an FBI agent?" Pidge said, suddenly
looking very interested.
     Scully nodded with a smile. "Don't I look like one?"
     Pidge thought about that for a second. "I don't know.
I've never seen an FBI agent before. Where'd Paul go?"
     Scully was dismayed by how short Pidge's attention span
was. She flitted from topic to topic like a hummingbird
visiting flowers. "He needed to use the telephone, so he's in
the office near the entrance."
     "Okay. We usually have lunch together. Do you carry a
gun?"
     "Sometimes," Scully answered cautiously.
     "Slick," Pidge said, clearly impressed. Scully was a
little worried at the slightly wild look in Pidge's eyes.
Still, she interacted with Scully -- a complete stranger -- far
too readily to be autistic. There was something very weird
going on. "So how did you get a nickname like Pidge?"
     "I don't remember. Everyone's called me that since I was
just a kid. Hey, did Paul tell you I was crazy?"
     Scully saw no reason to lie. "He said you were autistic."
Pidge seemed to expect that answer, but looked very surprised
when Scully continued, saying, "But, I think he's wrong."
     "Really? Have you studied psychology?" Pidge asked.
     "Some," Scully equivocated. Pidge seemed about to say
something else when a beeper went off. Scully almost checked
hers by reflex before realizing that Pidge was carrying one,
too.
     The young woman fished it out of her pocket and shut it
off, glancing at the readout. She sighed. "Gotta go. Akerson
wants me. I'm probably in trouble for talking to you." She
stood and put the book back on a shelf before heading for the
door.
     "I hope you're not in any trouble, Pidge," Scully said.
Pidge stopped, surprised, and her wild eyes blinked. "That's
okay, Ms. Scully. I've gotten good at handling it. But,
thanks."
     Mulder glanced at Pidge as she left, then raised an
eyebrow at Scully as she sat back down. Scully exhaled,
suddenly realizing how tense she was. "She didn't weird you
out, did she, Scully?"
     "She makes you look positively ordinary," Scully replied.
"Ouch," Mulder protested. He tried to look hurt, but failed
miserably, and Scully ignored him. "If she's getting any help,
which I doubt, it isn't enough."
     "Child abuse and neglect are beyond our jurisdiction.
What do you suggest we do? Involve the local police?"
     "I don't know yet, Mulder. I want to do something,
though. This isn't right."
     He nodded, scrolling through records swiftly with the
mouse. "I know. But one problem at a time."
     "Right," Scully said. "See anything interesting in the
personnel files?"
     "We're up to eight hundred records and the count is still
climbing. We need to narrow it down to those who might have
been at the New Castle facility during that period."
     "I'll say." She leaned back in the chair, frustrated. The
two of them remained in the records room through lunch and
into the evening. They culled out records of employees who
were now deceased or who had never worked in New Castle. But
that still left them with almost five hundred names. Pidge
didn't make a reappearance, but Wiedlander stayed with them,
on and off, until they were printing the information for all
the remaining names. He walked them down the hall back to his
cubicle and showed them which printer their job was on. "If
you two don't need anything else, I'll be heading out," he
said.
     "Thanks, I think we're fine," Mulder said, gathering up
the first set of pages and flipping through them to make sure
they were printing properly. Scully asked, "Is it okay for us
to stay in the building unescorted? I didn't realize it was
almost eight o'clock."
     Wiedlander zipped his briefcase closed before answering.
"Sure. You've got visitor's badges. You're the FBI, for
chrissakes," he said with a big grin. "Just leave the printer
on when you're done. I'll be sure to tell the receptionist or
security that you'll be down shortly." He paused and gave
Mulder (who was standing with his back to Scully and
Wiedlander) an appreciative look. With a smile, he winked at
Scully, who had to bite her lip to keep from laughing.
     "Good night. Thanks again," she said as he departed.
     "What's funny?" Mulder asked when the other man had left,
seeing Scully's expression.
     "You don't want to know," she said.
     He thought about it for a second, then grinned. "How come
nobody loves me for my mind?" Scully laughed and patted him on
the shoulder. "Don't worry, Mulder. I love you for your mind."
     "Thanks, Scully. I knew I could count on you," he said,
with just a hint of sarcasm, acknowledging the depth of their
relationship as friends and partners. They waited in silence
for the printer to finish spitting pages.
     The last page hummed out only a couple of minutes later,
and they put a rubber band around the last ream of sheets,
dropping them into an empty paper box. Each personnel file was
two or three sheets, so it was quite a load. Mulder hefted the
box and Scully opened the door to the hallway. He stepped
through and Scully followed.
     Then the world went black around them both.
                               
                          **********
                               
     Mulder woke to the sound of Scully calling his name.
"Come on, Mulder, wake up." His head hurt like it had been hit
with a bat. Then he remembered the brief glimpse he'd gotten
of the rifle butt coming at his face, and figured a bat wasn't
too far off. When he tried to sit up, he realized that his
hands were handcuffed above his head through a length of chain
looped around the frame of the bed. The two ends of the chain
were padlocked together, and the chain was made of one inch
links. He wasn't going to get out of that anytime soon. He
rolled over onto his left side and saw that Scully was
similarly confined to her hospital bed. He managed to swing
himself up to a sitting position and surveyed the room through
his headache. It was surprisingly nice, if sparse. He was
grateful that a dim light was on between the two beds, as it
had somehow gotten to be very dark outside. He looked at his
watch. "Damn. Twelve-twenty." There was a TV mounted on the
far wall, and a couple of chairs near the window. "You okay,
Scully?"
     "Not really. I think I might have a broken rib. Nothing
life-threatening, but it hurts like hell."
     "Any idea where we are?" he asked.
     "Looks like a patient's room in an upscale hospital,
except that there are two beds in what looks like space for a
private room. I'd guess we're still in the ColeMed office
complex." She paused. "Mulder, turn your face toward the light
a little more." He did, and she sucked air between her teeth
with a hiss.
     "That bad?" he asked.
     "You're a mess. Looks like you've got a bad laceration
along your cheek, but there's too much dried blood to be sure.
It's a wonder you didn't lose any teeth, or get your jaw
broken. How do you feel? Any double vision or dizziness?"
     Before he could answer, they both looked up at a sound at
the door. Mulder laid back down on the bed, not wanting to
appear too healthy, lest someone decide he needed to be
further restrained.
     They could hear two voices through the door for a couple
of minutes, before the door opened. Pidge walked through and
pushed the door closed behind her. She crept forward nervously
to stand between the two beds. "Are you okay, Ms. Scully?"
     "No, Pidge. I think I've got a broken rib. Can you get
the guard to let me out of these handcuffs?"
     "No. He didn't even want to let me in here. I'll get in a
lot of trouble if they find out."
     "If who finds out?" Mulder asked.
     "Dr. Akerson," Pidge replied.
     "Your father?" Scully asked. Pidge snorted. "He's not my
dad. He didn't even really adopt me. He just tells people
that, like he tells them I'm autistic."
     "Pidge," Mulder said, sitting up again, "we can help you
get away from here, if you help us."
     She shifted from one foot to the other. "What makes you
think I want to leave?"
     Scully shifted on her bed with a groan. "You don't seem
to like it here very much."
     Mulder changed tactics, trying to persuade Pidge to help
them. "Look, Pidge. If you don't help us, you can be
considered an accessory to assault on federal agents. Do you
know what the penalty for that is?"
     Pidge didn't answer, wincing in sympathy as Scully tried
to get comfortable. "Here, Ms. Scully, let me help. I can heal
you."
     "Heal me?" Scully asked, as Mulder looked on, trying to
focus through the throbbing in his head.
     "Yes, ma'am. But I can't work through clothing. Is it
okay if I unbutton your blouse part way?" Scully nodded
reluctantly, glancing at Mulder, who shrugged, having no more
idea that she did of what was happening.
     Pidge undid the last three buttons on Scully's blouse
above the waistband of her slacks and probed the skin over her
injury gently. "Careful," Scully cautioned, "if I've got a
broken rib, you could puncture my lung."
     "I'll be careful," Pidge replied softly, "but your rib
isn't broken, just fractured. This will be a little
uncomfortable," she warned. She pulled Scully's blouse aside a
little further and placed her left hand over the tender area,
taking Scully's left hand in her right and leaning over her.
Scully felt the other woman's fingers grow warm against her
skin, and she closed her eyes as the sensation intensified,
spreading across her injured ribs. It was somewhat unpleasant,
but she tried not to move.
     "Scully?" Mulder asked with some concern. Pidge glanced
over her shoulder angrily. "Shhh!"
     One minute passed, then another. Scully's eyes fluttered
back open as Pidge straightened up, stepping back from the bed
with a sigh. "Scully?" Mulder said again.
     "I'm okay, Mulder. It feels a lot better."
     Pidge stepped forward and raised her hand to Mulder's
split and bruised cheek. "I think we just found the cause of
that statistical anomaly in leukemia remissions," he said to
Scully.
     Startled, Pidge jerked her hand back. "Do you want help
or not?"
     "I'd love some help," Mulder replied sarcastically.
"Where can I get to a phone and call the police?"
     "I'm giving you as much help as I can," Pidge said,
trying to keep her voice low. Mulder countered, "We can help
you, if you can get us out of these cuffs. What's going to
happen to us if you don't help us escape?"
     Pidge snapped, "Do you want me to treat your face or
not?"
     Mulder nodded mutely and Pidge placed her fingers along
his jaw, turning his face toward the light. "This will be a
little uncomfortable," she said again. Her fingers grew warm
and a tingle spread across the side of his face. It was like a
maddening itch and Mulder grimaced as the sensation grew in
strength to the point where it bordered on agony. He heard
himself grunt in pain. Then, suddenly, it was gone. Mulder
worked his jaw experimentally. Everything felt fine. When he
rubbed the side of his face against the bloodstained lapel of
his jacket, dried blood flaked away from his cheek, revealing
whole skin. Scully struggled to get a good view in the dim
light.
     "Thanks, Pidge," Mulder said. He saw her lean against
Scully's bed. "Are you okay?" She nodded, saying, "It just
makes me tired."
     "Pidge, how do you do that?" Scully asked. Pidge laughed.
"They've been trying to figure that out for eight years. I
just do it."
     "Pidge, do you realize that they'll probably kill us if
you don't help us escape?" Scully asked suddenly.
     Pidge was shocked, then became angry. "You've both been
trying to manipulate me since I walked in here!"
     "Do you blame us?" Mulder asked.
     All the anger drained out of the young woman. "No. No, of
course not." She paced for a few seconds, then leaned over
Scully, almost nose-to-nose with her. "Will you really help
me?"
     "Of course we will, Pidge. Trust us," Scully said with
all the sincerity she could muster.
     Pidge shook her head. "Unh-unh. Trust no-one. But, I'm
not going to get out of here by myself. I've tried that
several times already." Putting her foot on the edge of
Scully's bed, Pidge reached under the cuff of her sock and
yanked a strip of medical tape off of her ankle. Rearranging
her sock and pants leg, she peeled a handcuff key off of the
strip of white tape.
     "Where did you get that?" Mulder asked, amazed.
     "I stole it," Pidge replied. After unlocking Scully's
hands, Pidge handed her the key, then watched Scully as she
quietly uncuffed Mulder.
     "You okay?" Scully asked, touching the side of his face,
examining a non-existent injury. He nodded, and Scully turned
to Pidge. "How many guards are there and how well do you know
this building?"
     "Just Mr. Clifford -- Tony -- on this floor, and a couple
of others at the exits downstairs. This building looks a lot
like Building Ten. They're adding another twenty beds to the
hospital by opening this new ward. They're gonna renovate Ten
and turn all those rooms back into labs. This building really
isn't used yet."
     Mulder asked, "And how much does it cost to stay in one
of these rooms and have your illness treated by Dr. Pidge?" He
didn't get an answer because the door cracked open and they
all froze.
     "Come on, Pidge. You're gonna get me in trouble," came
the male voice from outside the door. They held their breath
as it clicked closed again.
     "Pidge, I'll hide behind the door and you call him in
here. Scully, you take the wall on the other side of the
door."
     "You aren't going to hurt him, are you?" Pidge asked, her
eyes wide.
     "I don't know. That depends on whether he was the one who
hit me in the head with the rifle," Mulder replied.
     Pidge's eyes went wide and Scully said, "You'll have to
excuse Mulder's sense of humor. It takes some getting used
to." But as they approached the door, it opened again and this
time Tony stepped into the room.
     "What are you doing in here? I.... Damn it, Pidge." He went
for his gun as he realized the two FBI agents were free.
Scully grabbed his left arm, and Mulder his right, pulling him
into the room. Pidge put one hand on his chest and the other
on his right hand, which was balled into a fist. "Don't,
Tony," she cried, as he struggled.
     Clifford was a good inch taller than Mulder, and more
heavily built. He pulled Scully nearly off her feet with a
powerful twist of his upper body. Scully slammed into Pidge,
knocking her down, but then the guard went limp and collapsed.
It was all Mulder and Scully could do to keep him from
dropping to the floor. They hauled him up onto the near bed.
"He's out cold," Scully said, after a brief check.
     Mulder offered his hand to Pidge, but she stood without
his help. "That's a neat trick."
     "He'll probably sleep for about four or five hours,"
Pidge responded. "I didn't want you to hurt him. He's one of
the nice ones."
     Mulder and Scully bound and gagged the guard, taking his
pistol, keys, flashlight and radio. Pidge escorted them down
the hall to a stairwell, down one flight to the first floor,
and into an empty office. "This is going to be Akerson's new
office. He and Tony had all your stuff in here after they
brought you in."
     Mulder gestured to the window; Scully twisted the blinds
closed. He turned on the flashlight, sweeping it around the
room. "No telephone."
     Pidge said, "I don't think there are any phones in the
building yet. It's not scheduled to open for a few more
weeks."
     Scully looked through the drawers of the desk while
Mulder checked out the filing cabinet and closet. She found
their wallets in a locked drawer, which she had forced open
without making too much noise. Mulder found Scully's bag and
notebook computer in the closet, but his cellular phone and
both their guns were missing.
     There was a small bathroom for the office, so Mulder
cleaned the rest of the crusted blood from his face. His suit,
however, was probably ruined by the blood stains running down
the shoulder and lapel. He ran his fingers over the area Pidge
had healed. There was not even a bruise left.
     "Where are we?" Scully asked Pidge.
     "This is ColeMed's North Park facility. We're over an
hour from the main complex," she explained. "Due north and a
little east."
     Mulder and Scully exchanged glances. "How did they
transport us that far away without us waking up?" Mulder
asked.
     Pidge chewed her lower lip for a moment. "It's after
midnight. They kept you in the high-security wing of the New
Castle complex for a few hours before they decided to bring us
out here in an ambulance. Dr. Akerson had drugged the two of
you, but I was able to clear most of it out of your system
before we got here. That was forty-five minutes ago. I hoped
you'd be awake by the time I could get back to you. I imagine
he planned for you to sleep until morning. I wanted a chance
to talk to you before he did."
     "I suppose our guns and my cellular phone are over in
Building Ten?" he asked. Pidge nodded. "Probably. That's where
his office and my room are, as well as all the existing
patient rooms, and the security office."
     "How did you get out of your room?" Mulder asked. "Don't
they keep a guard on you?"
     Pidge sighed. "I'm constantly fighting with Akerson about
that sort of thing. He restricts me, I refuse to work, we
compromise. I try to escape, he revokes all my privileges, and
we start over. At the moment, I've got the run of the whole
North Park facility. The tracker won't sound an alarm until
I'm practically off the grounds. On foot, it wouldn't matter
much anyway, since the nearest houses are about five miles
away. But we'll have to get it off of me before we make a run
for it."
     "Not necessarily," Scully said. "We can ditch it on the
road, and maybe give them a false lead." She fitted the
earphone of the stolen radio in her ear, and clipped the unit
to her belt. "Looks like we'll have to take one of their
company cars. I don't think we ought to try to call the local
police from inside the complex."
     Mulder nodded. "I agree."
     "All the ColeMed security cars are on one key," Pidge
volunteered. "Tony's keys will get you in and out of any of
the doors and gates on the property."
     "I don't suppose you know a quiet way out of here?"
Scully asked.
     Pidge hesitated for a moment. "There's a side gate that
lets out onto a county-maintained road. That will take us to a
state road leading to I-79."
     Mulder concluded, "That will take us south to Pittsburgh
and the Turnpike." It was obvious to him that Pidge had been
planning for the opportunity to escape for a long time.
     Scully said, "They're going to be looking for Pidge, if
she's as valuable to them as she seems. I don't think they
intended to let us leave here alive."
     Mulder said, "We'll worry about that on the road. Pidge,
can you draw me a map?" She nodded and Scully handed her a pad
of paper from the desk, and a pen. Pidge closed her eyes for a
few seconds, then sketched the major and minor roads around
the complex. After another pause, she drew in the buildings of
the complex. Scully and Mulder were both astonished at the
level of detail she had produced from memory.
     "Is that okay?" Pidge asked, seeing their expressions.
"Yeah," Mulder replied, scanning the map closely. "It's
amazing."
     "Eidetic memory," Scully said, more a statement than a
question. Pidge frowned, as if she had given away a secret,
but then nodded, confirming Scully's words. Mulder folded the
map and put it into his jacket pocket. "Let's see if we can
get this window open," he said. Scully helped him, and the two
of them removed the inner pane of the wide sliding window.
Mulder crawled out first, and checked the area briefly.
     Scully noticed that Pidge was breathing hard, stressed
out. "Are you going to be okay?" she asked. Pidge twitched
with a start, then nodded. "Yeah."
     Mulder came back to the window. "Come on, Pidge. It's
your turn." She hesitated and he prompted her again. "I know
you're scared, but we're in kind of a hurry here." With a
final look back toward the door, she climbed out the window
and let Mulder help her to the ground. Even as slender as she
was, Mulder was surprised at how little she weighed; she
couldn't have been more than one hundred pounds. He helped
Scully out next, then got his bearings.
     "The parking lot is this way," he said, pointing. The
three of them set off in the darkness. It was cool outside,
the sky clear and the stars bright. Pidge hugged herself and
shivered, cold in her thin scrubs. They circled the parking
lot, coming around the edge furthest from the buildings.
Crouching between two of the cars, Scully turned up the radio,
saying, "Hold it." After a moment, she nodded grimly. "They're
calling for Tony. We're going to be found out in a couple of
minutes at the most."
     "Okay," Mulder said, unlocking the driver's door and
popping all the power locks open. "Let's see if we can find
that gate."
     "Just a second," Scully said. "If they're about to come
looking for us, I think we should go ahead and get rid of
Pidge's tracking band, right now." Scully popped open her
briefcase and fished out a Swiss Army knife. Pidge braced her
foot against one of the tires and held the flashlight while
Scully sawed through the seal. "Got it," she said after a few
minutes work. Mulder took the object and started to throw it
into the darkness, then changed his mind. He trotted down the
short line of cars and locked it in one of the trunks, just to
add a little confusion to their escape.
     The three of them got into the car: Mulder and Scully up
front, and Pidge in back. Mulder started the car and drove
with the lights out to the entrance of the lot, then veered to
the left and drove slowly through the grass toward the fence,
hoping there wouldn't be any steep dips in the ground.
     Their luck held. They found the gravel road that ran
along the inside of the fence and followed it to the gate.
Mulder killed the engine and he and Scully got out of the car.
There was no sign of other cars or people. A breeze ruffled
Scully's hair as she worked the controls on her radio.
"Anything?" he asked her.
     Scully shook her head. "Not since they found Tony
Clifford and figured out we have his radio. I've scanned the
other channels; but there's nothing. Having their
communications compromised ought to severely inconvenience
them. Radio silence works both ways."
     Mulder tried several keys on the stolen keyring before he
found the one that opened the lock on the gate. He tossed the
keys to Scully, who drove the car through the gate, then
waited for him. Relocking the gate, he climbed in the
passenger door and they drove toward the paved road.
     "Are you all right back there?" Scully asked. "You're
awfully quiet."
     Pidge said, "I feel kind of sick, but I think that's just
nerves. I'm okay."
     "You look cold. Would you like to borrow my jacket?"
Mulder offered. "Oh. Sure. Thanks, Mulder." She wrapped it
about herself, and it made her look even smaller than she
really was.
     After only a few hundred yards, they came to the paved
road. "Left or right?" Scully asked. "Right," Pidge and Mulder
answered simultaneously. Mulder smiled over his shoulder at
Pidge, nodding for her to continue. "This will take us east to
U.S. 19 or I-79. There should be signs," she said.
     "Okay," Scully answered. She glanced at Mulder. "We need
to ditch this car. I don't think Akerson will report it
stolen, but we shouldn't risk it."
     "I agree," Mulder said. "I think we should keep driving
as long as we can, though; maybe all the way to Philly. We
won't be able to rent a car until daylight anyway. Are you
okay to take the first driving shift?" "Yes," Scully answered.
     "Mr. Mulder?" Pidge said. Scully laughed, and Mulder made
a face. "Please, just Mulder." Scully added, "You can call me
Dana."
     "Okay. What are we going to do now? I mean, where am I
going to go?"
     Mulder sympathized with the young woman, but he didn't
really have an answer. "That's a good question, Pidge. But I
think it's a little premature. We should just concentrate on
getting far enough away from ColeMed that Akerson can't grab
you or us without attracting a lot of attention."
     "You can stay with us until we think you'll be safe on
your own," Scully said. "Do you have any relatives?"
     "No. I don't think so. Akerson says my parents named him
my guardian before they died. But I half-suspect he killed
them. I don't remember my grandparents, and I think my dad had
a sister, but I don't remember her name. Just Aunt Ruth. I've
been with Akerson since I was ten."
     She paused in her story, and Mulder tried to encourage
her to go on, saying, "How did you get involved with ColeMed?"
"I'd rather not talk about it," she mumbled. Mulder couldn't
make out much of her expression in the dark, but her body
language showed her fear more clearly than her voice.
     "That's okay," he said softly. "We can talk about that
later. Why don't you get some sleep?" That way, maybe he could
talk to Scully without stressing Pidge any further.
     "I'd rather be awake."
     Mulder sighed quietly, defeated. Scully shot him a
supportive glance that said, *Nice try*. Aloud, she said, "Why
don't you see what's on the radio? It'll help keep me awake."
     "My scintillating personality isn't enough for you,
Scully?" he asked as he turned it on and began channel-
surfing.
     "I thought you might want to sleep," she responded.
     He shook his head, "Not for a few hours. Too much
adrenaline."
     "Usually that wears off pretty quickly," came a voice
from the back seat.
     "I'm prone to insomnia," Mulder said, still flipping
through the radio stations.
     "Chronic or situational?" Pidge asked. "I could treat it
either way, if you really do want to sleep."
     "No. But, thanks anyway," Mulder said. Frankly, the
thought of Pidge messing with his brain made him nervous. She
seemed so emotionally fragile, on the edge of instability,
that lack of sleep was preferable. He caught a snippet of a
familiar song on the radio and left the channel alone. It was
Melissa Etheridge, right at the beginning of "I'm The Only
One."
     Pidge slid forward to the edge of the back seat to get
closer to the speakers at the front of the car, so she could
hear better. Scully looked into the rearview mirror to see the
young woman's expression. "You like Melissa Etheridge?" Scully
asked.
     "Doesn't everybody? What a babe!" Pidge said. Mulder
choked on a laugh. "Something funny?" she asked warily.
     "Not at all. It just caught me by surprise," he
explained.
     "Really?" Scully asked. "I wouldn't have thought that
would get by you."
     "What? Are you trying to tell me you knew?" he asked
back. Scully just smiled and kept driving.
     "It isn't a problem, is it?" asked Pidge.
     "No, of course not, Pidge," Mulder said. "It doesn't
matter to us."
     Pidge weighed his words and seemed to relax a little. She
leaned back in her seat and listened to the music. Scully sang
along to the music, softly, and Pidge joined in on the last
verse:
          I will stand firm in the tempest
          I will ride destiny's trail
          To believe when the truth comes up empty
          To hold and respect without fail
          Come and be one in the motion
          A desire they cannot comprehend
          Never to question again
          For I am your passion, your promise, your end
          Oh yes I am
                               
                          **********
                               
     They pulled into an Embassy Suites parking lot in
Pittsburgh around two-thirty a.m. Scully parked the car in the
far corner of the lot and checked in by herself, leaving
Mulder to watch Pidge. Afterwards, she returned to the car to
get the two of them. Mulder removed his suitcoat (folding it
to hide the blood stains) and they walked quickly through a
side door to an elevator, successfully keeping anyone else
from seeing Pidge.
     "You guys still seem nervous. Do you think Dr. Akerson is
going to find us here?" Pidge asked.
     Mulder didn't answer until they entered the room and the
door closed. "You aren't exactly inconspicuous in those blue
scrubs. I don't think ColeMed security is likely to try to
kidnap you back from us in a crowded hotel, but I do expect
Dr. Akerson to try _something_. He isn't going to let the
cornerstone of his financial empire walk out without a fight.
     "Right now, though," he continued, "I think we should all
get some sleep; it's almost three a.m. Scully, if you and I
get up around nine, you can go out and get some clothes for
Pidge and a new shirt for me. I can't exactly go out like
this," he said, indicating the blood stains on his clothes.
"I'll call our old hotel and have the rest of our belongings
shipped down here and check in with the local Bureau office."
Scully nodded.
     Pidge was wandering around the suite, looking in the
refrigerator, checking out the bathroom and bedroom. The suite
had a front room, with a foldout couch, sink, microwave and
refrigerator. A doorway lead to the bedroom, with two full
beds and a small balcony outside. The bathroom was between the
front room and the bedroom.
     Pidge was surprised at the accommodations. "Wow. This is
big. Who's gonna sleep where?"
     "I'll take the couch," Mulder said. "You and Scully can
take the two beds. Scully, I'll keep the pistol for right
now."
     Scully nodded, then turned to Pidge. "Would you like to
take a shower before you go to sleep?"
     "Hmm? But I don't have any soap or anything," Pidge said.
     Scully stepped into the bathroom and flipped on the
light, followed by the nervous young woman. "There's soap and
shampoo here," Scully said. She reached into her jacket pocket
and pulled out several packets of shaving cream and a razor
for Mulder, who had followed them to the door of the bathroom.
     "Thanks, Scully," he said, noting that she had picked the
items up for him at the front desk. "Is this your first time
in a hotel?" he asked Pidge.
     "Yeah," Pidge answered, sarcastically. "I don't get out
much."
     Mulder went back into the front room, and Scully turned
to leave the bathroom, but she paused in the doorway. She was
worried about Pidge's emotional state. She said, "I'd feel
better if you didn't lock the door, okay?" Pidge nodded
unhappily, and Scully closed the door behind her as she left.
The shower made a dull roar in the suite.
     Mulder was moving cushions to unfold the couch, and
Scully helped, stacking them in a chair. "Do you think she'll
try to bolt?" he asked.
     Scully shook her head. "Not if she has to walk past you
in the dark. She's very nervous around you. Still, it couldn't
hurt to put a chair in front of the door." She paused for a 
moment, brushing a strand of hair behind one ear. "Mulder, 
you aren't going to try to make an X-File out of her, are you?"
     His shoulders sagged a little. "I don't know. I want to. I 
want to know what she can do, and why, and how. But what 
would that do to her? What are we going to do _with_ her, Scully? 
Turn her over to some state social program when we get back 
to DC?"
     "She's eighteen, Mulder. She says she's eighteen, anyway.
I don't know if she can survive on her own, though, even if
she is legally an adult. She doesn't have very good social
skills, no real education I'll bet; no way to make a living.
And you think she'd be in danger if we documented what we've
seen." It was more a statement than a question.
     "As Max said to me, Scully, 'Somebody's always paying 
attention.' We don't want to free her from ColeMed just to
have the Men In Black grab her, do we?"
     "Ordinarily, I don't like to encourage your conspiracy
theories, Mulder. But I know that there must be dozens of
agencies that would love to get their hands on her. I can't
say that I'd blame them."
     Cautiously, Mulder asked, "But the price would be too
high?"
     She frowned, disappointed that such a promising ability
would go unstudied, disappointed that Mulder would suspect her
motives for even an instant. "Of course it would." She
shuddered, wondering what had else had happened to Pidge during
her time at ColeMed besides the little she'd told them.
hurt to put a chair in front of the door."
     Mulder nodded. "Good night, Scully."
     "Night, Mulder. Pleasant dreams."
                               
                          **********
                               
Friday, August 11, 1995. Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania.

     Pidge woke up around eleven a.m. to the sound of Mulder
and Scully talking. She pulled the pants of her scrubs back on
(having slept in just the top) and followed the smell of
pancakes into the other room. "Good morning," Mulder said
cheerfully.
     "Good morning." The young woman sat down at the small
table near the sink. There was a tray with a plate of
pancakes, with sausage and bacon, a smaller plate with two
donuts, and an apple, a banana, and a glass of orange juice
and a glass of milk. "Is all this food for me?"
     Scully said, "I didn't know what you like, so I got a
little of everything."
     "Wow, I'll say. Thanks. Where did you get all of this?"
     "They serve breakfast for free downstairs, for guests,"
Scully answered with a smile, then went back to talking to
Mulder. "I'll drop your jacket off at the drycleaners, do some
shopping and try to be back here in about two hours." Mulder
nodded, and picked up the phone, dialing directory assistance
to get the number of their Ramada hotel in New Castle.
"Pidge," Scully said as she walked into the bedroom, "can I
talk to you for a minute?"
     Pidge got up and followed her. "Yes, ma'am?" she said,
looking worried.
     "Look, I know that Mulder makes you nervous, but I don't
want to take you outside of the hotel. Are you going to be all
right, here with him?"
     "I think so," Pidge said, but she was tense.
     Scully put her hand on Pidge's arm and said, "Mulder's
one of the good guys, Pidge. He won't hurt you. I trust him
with my life." That caught Pidge's attention. "I'll be back
soon," Scully finished. Pidge nodded and went back to her
breakfast.
     Scully left, and Mulder put the chain on the door behind
her, still on the phone. Pidge went back into the bedroom
after she finished eating, and watched television until Scully
returned from her shopping expedition. She had bought blue
jeans, a T-shirt and a denim shirt, a pair of shoes and a pair
of socks for Pidge, who darted into the bathroom to try them
on.
     "Was she okay while I was gone?" Scully asked.
     "Yeah, Scully. Not a peep out of her. Good news: I talked
our Ramada into shipping our luggage. It should arrive this
evening."
     "How much is that going to cost?" she asked. Mulder
grinned, "You don't want to know. Thanks for the shirt. I
think I'll take a shower and change after Pidge gets out of
the bathroom."
     "Did you talk to the local Bureau office?" asked Scully.
     "Did you tell them about me?" Pidge asked, nervously,
coming out of the bathroom in her new clothing.
     "Yes and yes," Mulder said, answering each question in
turn. "I asked them to do a full background check on Dr.
Akerson, and see what they could turn up on ColeMed's North
Park facility. I also asked them to find whatever they could
on his family, including any foster or adopted children. I
didn't give them your name, though."
     "Oh. Okay," Pidge said, but she looked pretty unhappy.
     "Does it all fit?" asked Scully.
     The young woman perked up. "Oh, yeah! I haven't had real
clothes on in a long time. They started making me wear scrubs
after the second time I tried to run away."
     "If you ladies will move out of the way, I'll go get
cleaned up," Mulder said. Scully shooed Pidge into the
bedroom, and Mulder entered the bathroom, closed the door and
turned on the shower. Scully pulled a couple of other items
out of one of her shopping bags and chatted with Pidge.
     "Did you and Mulder get along while I was out?"
     "Well, I kind of stayed in here and watched TV and he
stayed out there and watched TV."
     "I guess that counts," Scully said.
     Pidge became very shy. "Ms. Scully? Dana? I just wanted
to thank you for helping me get away from Dr. Akerson." She
stepped close to Scully and touched the older woman's arm
lightly.
     "You're welcome." Scully gave Pidge a hug, and Pidge
wrapped her arms around Scully, placing one hand against the
nape of Scully's neck. Scully sighed and closed her eyes as a
wave of relaxation and arousal flooded her body. Pidge
whispered softly in Scully's ear, "I'm sorry," as the FBI
agent leaned against her.
     Mulder suddenly realized that he had left his new shirt
in the front room. He had intended to hang it up in the
bathroom while he showered, so the steam could work on the
wrinkles. He wrapped a towel around his waist and went into
the front room, grabbing the shirt. As he walked back toward
the bathroom, he saw Pidge and Scully embracing. After a
moment, he realized that they were kissing. He blinked. Then
he realized that Pidge was fishing the car keys out of
Scully's pants pocket.
     Seeing red, Mulder dropped his shirt and crossed the
bedroom in four steps. He grabbed Pidge by her left wrist,
jerking her away from Scully, and hauled her roughly across
the room until the back of her legs hit the edge of one of the
beds and she fell backwards with a yelp.
     "Scully!" Mulder shouted. "Pidge, what the hell are you
trying to do?" Pidge clawed at Mulder's hand. "Let me go!
You're breaking my arm!" she cried.
     "Scully!" Mulder shouted again. "Snap out of it!" Scully
blinked, a little dazed.
     "Mulder? I'm okay. What the? Don't hurt her." She walked
toward Mulder, realizing what had happened as she shook off
Pidge's influence.
     Mulder twisted Pidge's arm, and she dropped the keys.
"Get him off me!" Pidge cried.
     "Mulder, take it easy," Scully said. "I'm okay." Mulder
looked in Scully's eyes for several long seconds before he
released Pidge's wrist. She scrambled off of the bed away from
him, backing up against the wall, eyes wide.
     "Are you sure you're okay, Scully?" Mulder asked,
starting to calm down, but still breathing hard.
     "Yes. She didn't hurt me." Scully walked to the foot of
the bed. Pidge took a step back into the corner. "Pidge, what
were you trying to do? We want to help you."
     "Maybe, maybe not. You're with the government. I decided
this morning that being turned over to some government lab
wouldn't be any better than being at ColeMed. I just had to
wait until you got me some clothes before I could leave."
     "I thought you trusted us, Pidge," Mulder said.
     "Very funny, Spooky. Trust no-one, right?"
     Mulder raised his eyebrows and looked at Scully, who
looked back at him, equally surprised. Mulder asked, "How did
you know my nickname is Spooky?"
     Pidge massaged her wrist. "When I heal someone, I learn
things about them. Random bits of memories, thoughts. Your
name is Fox, but you don't like it. You don't care much for
your nickname, either." She turned to Scully. "You're a
doctor. You were very ill recently; you almost died. You lost
a close relative within the last year or so. Your father,
maybe?" Turning back to Mulder, Pidge continued, "But trust? I
learned not to trust anyone a long time ago. I didn't need you
to tell me that."
     Scully took another step forward and Pidge dropped to the
floor, huddled against the wall, all her bravado gone. Even
from a few feet away, Scully could tell that she was shaking.
"If what you say about learning from someone is true, then you
should know that neither Mulder nor I would turn you over to a
lab. I think your abilities should be studied, but not by
someone who will keep you prisoner."
     Pidge pulled a pillow off of the bed and hugged it
tightly as she curled up against the wall. "All I could get
from either of you at ColeMed was fear and the desire to be
free."
     "And when you were kissing me?" Scully said softly.
     Pidge stared at her pillow and swallowed hard. "You may
not believe me, but I'm sorry about that, Dana. Old habits are
hard to break. That was about the only way I had to get
anything from the staff or from security. I know it's wrong. I
was just trying to distract you while I took the keys."
     "You can't drive, can you?" Scully asked.
     "No, but it would be harder for you to follow me without
the car."
     Mulder ran his hands through his hair, frustrated.
"Listen, Pidge, if you promise not to try to manipulate either
of us again, we'll promise not to try to manipulate you.
Okay?" Pidge looked to Scully, who added, "I promise."
     After a few seconds of consideration Pidge said, "Okay, I
promise, too. God knows, Spooky, I sure as hell wouldn't
_ever_ try to mess with Scully's head again. Not after what I
saw in your eyes tonight. You are one dangerous guy."
     "Thanks, Pidge. That's great for my ego," he said in a
dry voice. Scully looked him up and down for a moment.
"Mulder, either go take your shower or put on some pants,
okay?" she said, with a hint of a smile. Mulder smiled back,
satisfied that she was in control of the situation, and
returned to the bathroom.
     "Pidge?" Scully said.
     "I'll be all right. Could you just leave me alone for a
while?" She curled up into a ball around the pillow and rocked
slowly back and forth.
     "I'll be in the other room, okay?" Scully said, but Pidge
didn't answer.
                               
                          **********
                               
     Mulder walked out of the bathroom wearing his pants and
his new shirt, still combing his hair. "Where's Pidge?" he
asked Scully.
     "She's still in the bedroom," Scully answered.
     Mulder went to check, hearing and seeing Pidge opening
the door to the tiny balcony as he entered the room. He
stopped just behind her as she leaned on the railing, gripping
it with white knuckles. She tensed a little more, if that was
possible, when she heard him approach. "I'm not planning to
jump, if you're wondering," she said without turning around.
     "I was just about to ask," he said, leaning against the
door.
     Pidge glanced at him briefly over her shoulder. "How's
Scully?" she asked.
     Mulder shrugged. "She's fine. She isn't angry with you,
if that's what you mean."
     "I was worried that she'd be kinda spazzed out `cause I
kissed her."
     "No, I don't think so."
     Pidge sighed softly. "Good. I think I've got as many
problems as I can handle right now.  Mulder, what are you two
going to do with me?"
     "I was just about to discuss that with you and Scully.
Come on, let's go back in the other room. It's too hot out
here," he said. Pidge came back inside and closed the door to
the balcony, following Mulder into the front room.
     Pidge curled up in one of the large chairs, tucking her
legs under her. Mulder sat next to Scully on the couch. She
said, "I don't understand why we're still here. Aren't you
afraid that Dr. Akerson will catch up with us?"
     "Not really," Scully said. "This is a neutral place, with
a lot of people. Akerson can't attack us here. If we returned
to DC, I don't think he'd approach us at all, and we want to
talk to him. But on our terms."
     "Besides," Mulder added, "this gives us a chance to get
some sleep and our luggage, and to talk about what to do with
you."
     "What are our options?" Pidge asked nervously.
     Scully said, "Well, we could try to get you into the
Witness Protection Program, but that's probably too difficult.
I think we'd be turned down. And I think they'd ask too many
questions that none of us want to answer."
     Mulder added, "If Dr. Akerson is going to keep trying to
get you back, which seems likely given the lengths he's gone
to so far, we'll have to do something. Scully and I may have
to try to set up a new identity for you on our own."
     "Oh, good," Pidge said sarcastically, but with no venom.
"Scully and Spooky's do-it-yourself discount witness
protection program."
     "Is that a smile I see?" Mulder asked in surprise.
     "Mulder, how come you let her call you Spooky?" Scully
asked
     "I dunno," he replied. "It's kind of cute when she says
it."
     Pidge straightened out in the chair, sliding down in it
until her head rested the back of the chair and her legs were
stretched out in front of her. "My life is over," she moaned
at the ceiling.
     "Not to be harsh, but what did you expect when you
planned to escape?" asked Scully.
     "I think part of me expected to eventually just die in
the attempt. I did figure that I'd have to change my identity.
But reality is more overwhelming than I thought it would be."
Pidge slid back up into the chair. "But I also never thought
I'd have any help. Thanks."
     "You're welcome," Scully said, noting that Pidge seemed
to be thinking more clearly than she had during their flight
from ColeMed; her attention span was longer and she was more
relaxed. She resolved to discuss that with Mulder when she got
a chance. "Mulder, have you talked to the Pittsburgh Bureau
office again? Have they gotten any of Pidge's records?"
     "They haven't called back. Pidge, do you know if your
fingerprints are on file anywhere? That would be unusual for
someone your age, but we need to be able to substantiate your
claim that Dr. Akerson is not your legal guardian and that
you're eighteen."
     "I think Dr. Akerson has a copy of my fingerprints, but I
doubt anyone else does. It wouldn't do you any good, though.
It won't do him any good, either. Look." Pidge held out both
of her hands toward Mulder. When Scully leaned forward, Pidge
got out of the chair and sat on the coffee table in front of
the couch. Mulder turned the lamp next to the couch up as high
as it would go and pulled it closer. The two FBI agents could
see that Pidge's fingerprints were radically different between
her two hands. So different, in fact, that they ought to
belong to two different people.
     "Are you saying that you've changed your fingerprints?"
Scully asked. Pidge nodded, and Scully shook her head in
disbelief. "I don't see how that's possible."
     "Can you change your appearance?" Mulder asked.
     "Probably," Pidge answered. "I couldn't practice on
anything except my fingerprints for fear of attracting
attention. But the ability should scale up to larger
physiological changes. If I can stay free long enough to make
the change." She looked wistful. "I've always wanted to be
taller."
     "How long did it take you to alter your fingerprints?"
Scully asked. Pidge thought about it. "A month for the first
two fingers. Two weeks for the other three. It got easier each
time I tried."
     "That ability will make it a lot easier for you to stay
hidden, if you can get hidden," Mulder said. "How many people
at ColeMed know about you?"
     "Very few, if you can believe it. Akerson has most of the
staff convinced that he's got a miracle regimen of drugs to
treat a number of illnesses. It's not approved by the FDA,
which is why it's so secret, and it's both effective and
expensive, which is why he provides it only to wealthy
patients. Outside of Akerson, there are maybe a dozen people
on staff and security who know what I do, and maybe that many
who suspect that I'm involved. All of the patients were either
asleep or sedated while I treated them, so none of them should
know."
     "Good," Scully said. "That minimizes the number of people
you have to be afraid of."
     There was a knock at the door. Pidge bolted to her feet
and stood in the doorway to the bedroom, all the color gone
from her face. Mulder handed his pistol to Scully and motioned
for her to go into the bedroom with Pidge. He looked through
the peephole and opened the door.
     "Dr. Akerson. This is a surprise," he said.
     "I hope you don't mind if Mr. Clifford and I come in,"
Akerson said congenially.
     "Of course not, if you don't mind proving you aren't
carrying any weapons," Mulder answered.
     Akerson took off his suitcoat and stepped inside,
rotating once so Mulder could see that he was unarmed. Tony
Clifford was wearing a polo shirt and slacks without any
obvious place to hide a gun. Mulder stepped back away from the
door. Mulder still patted each of them down as they entered
the room.
     "Now Mr. Mulder, I'm sure as an FBI agent you are aware
of the penalties for kidnapping a minor," Akerson began.
     "I'm sure you're aware of the penalties for kidnapping
federal agents," Mulder retorted. "Not to mention assault and
conspiracy to commit murder."
     Akerson waved Mulder's charges aside. "Yes, yes. Neither
of us wants this to get out of hand, I'm sure. I've no idea
what Susan's told you, of course, but I'm sure you can see
that she's none too stable. I'm doing my best by her, and this
type of interference does not help."
     Scully stood in the bedroom doorway and said, "Dr.
Akerson, I'm a physician and Agent Mulder has a degree in
psychology from Oxford. Perhaps you'd care to describe the
diagnosis Pidge was given, under what circumstances, and the
treatment she's received."
     Akerson changed tactics. "You really don't understand
what you're dealing with here. Pidge's talents have allowed me
to isolate three different effective cancer treatments in the
last five years, along with drugs for lupus, arthritis and
AIDS. What is her freedom compared to the lives of thousands?"
     "Or to several million dollars a year?" Mulder asked.
     "Really, Agent Mulder. I'm insulted. I've never made more
than a million and a half dollars a year from Pidge's work. I
think that's just compensation for all the work I've done." He
sighed. "Will you at least let me see her? I want to be
certain that you aren't coercing her."
     Mulder and Scully exchanged looks to see whether they
each thought it would be safe. Mulder nodded and Scully turned
to Pidge, saying, "That's up to her." Pidge thought about it
and nodded hesitantly. She peeked around the edge of the door,
then stepped forward just in front of Scully. Scully
whispered, "It's okay. We won't let them take you." She put
her hand on Pidge's shoulder, and the nervous young woman
seemed to steady a bit.
     "Akerson," she said disrespectfully. Then, "Hi, Tony," in
a friendlier voice.
     "Hey, kid," Clifford replied. "You okay?"
     Dr. Akerson snapped at him. "Tony. I'll handle this." He
turned to Pidge. "You're making a mistake. I've taught and
protected you, Pidge. You'll never survive on your own; come
back with us."
     Pidge grew angry and stared at him for several seconds.
"Fuck you!" she shouted and marched back into the bedroom.
     "Crude, but I think it gets the point across," Mulder
said. "I'd suggest that you leave now."
     "We'll be expecting the rest of our property within the
week. You can ship it to FBI headquarters in Washington, DC,"
Scully added. Mulder gave her a nod that said, *Nice touch*.
     Akerson was too composed to show his frustration, and
simply nodded. "Pidge," he called. "You'll always have a place
with us. Don't forget that." He turned to Clifford. "Come on.
We're through here."
     Mulder closed and locked the door behind them, but then
opened it again after they had boarded the elevator. He walked
out of the room to look down into the central atrium, making
sure that they left the building. He returned to the room,
where Scully was trying to calm Pidge down. Their young
companion was both furious and terrified. "They left the
hotel," he said.
     Scully looked up. "Do you think they went very far?"
     "I doubt it," he replied. "Akerson didn't seem inclined
to give up, although he wanted us to think he had."
     "I think we should check out and hit the road for home
when our luggage arrives," she said.
     He nodded, looking at his watch. "I agree. That shouldn't
be too long."
     "Pidge," Scully said, shaking the woman gently to get her
attention. "Come on, we should pack everything so we can leave
as soon as the rest of our belongings get here. Okay?"
     "Yeah," Pidge said weakly.
     The luggage didn't arrive until almost 10p.m. Pidge was a
nervous wreck, and was getting on both Mulder and Scully's
nerves, pacing from one room to the other. They were all a
little stir-crazy by the time the knock came on the door.
     The young man who delivered their luggage game them some
sort of lame excuse for being so late, and Scully shut the
door in his face without giving him a tip. Mulder insisted on
searching the bags to make sure nothing had been removed or
added, not putting it past Akerson to have intercepted them.
But everything seemed normal, so they checked out of the hotel
and headed down the Turnpike.
     Two hours down the road, Scully put her hand on Mulder's
arm and shook him out of a light sleep. "Mulder, I think we're
being followed. There's a large white van that's staying about
two or three cars back."
     He looked over the back of the seat, relieved to see that
Pidge was asleep. "How long have they been following us?"
     "About twenty minutes."
     "Scully!" he scolded.
     "Relax, Mulder. If they'd been getting closer, I'd have
woken you sooner."
     He grinned. "Then why did you wake me now?"
     "You were snoring," she joked.
     "Scully, I do not snore," he stated, as if it were a law
of nature.
     "Actually, I was starting to get a little sleepy," she
admitted. "Do you want to wait them out or should I speed up
and let them know we've spotted them?"
     "Let me wake Pidge up, then we'll see how desperate they
are." He drew the pistol out of the back of his pants, pulled
back the slide and released it. It snapped forward, loading a
round into the chamber. The noise brought Pidge bolt upright.
"Well, that wasn't quite what I had in mind as a wake-up
call," he said to Scully, "but she's up. You okay back there?"
he asked as he snapped the safety to the on position.
     "Judging from the pistol, I'd say no," she answered.
     "We're being followed," Scully said over her shoulder.
"I'm going to try to lose them."
     "On the Turnpike?" Pidge asked.
     "Put your seatbelt on," Mulder warned. "They're either
going to give up, or chase us."
     The seatbelt clicked behind him. Pidge asked, "What do we
do if they catch us?"
     "I'll let you know as soon as I think of something,"
Mulder said.
     "You aren't inspiring a lot of confidence back here,
Mulder."
     Scully glanced at Mulder, who nodded, and she started
accelerating, pulling into the left lane. Seventy, seventy-
five -- Scully watched the speedometer needle slide to the
right. She shifted her attention between the road and the
rearview mirror. "Here comes the van, Mulder. He's catching
up, too." Scully shoved harder on the pedal, but the van
continued to close the distance between them.
     "Scully, if you see an opportunity, pull off and jam on
the brakes. I think we can lose them in the dark on foot."
     The van was close behind them, but there were no other
cars blocking her path. Scully saw park benches at the side of
the road. "Hold on!" she shouted. She cut the lights, swerving
onto the shoulder and kicking up a cloud of gravel. The van
flew past them by several hundred feet before it also pulled
over.
     Leaping from the car, Mulder turned and pulled Pidge out
of the back seat, herding her in front of him as they ran for
the fence at the back of the picnic area, well away from the
road. He practically tossed her over the chain link barrier,
lifting her up so she could grab the top and climb down the
opposite side. He hefted Scully by the waist when she caught
up to them, and climbed the fence after her. The two women ran
for the trees, Mulder close behind them.
     At the edge of the trees, Mulder struggled to make out
Akerson and Clifford as they approached the fence. There, off
to his left! He glimpsed a flash as the beam of a headlight
from a car on the Turnpike glinted on metal, but couldn't make
out anything else.
     Suddenly, he cried out as something stabbed him in the
left thigh. He reached down, groaning as his hand jarred the
foreign object lodged in his muscle. Wrapping his hand around
the thick cylinder, he pulled it free. *Dart gun*, he
realized. *I've only got a couple of minutes*, he thought,
sitting down to take the weight off of his injured leg. The
needle had been thick, and he felt blood trickling from the
wound when he touched his pants. His leg was already going
numb.
     "Scully! I'm hit. Keep going." With a hiss, another dart
sailed past him in the dark. He struggled to hold his pistol
up, bracing his arm on his good leg. He shook his head as the
drug began to affect his concentration.
     Scully was crouched down next to Pidge, who clung to her
arm. "Come on," she said to the frightened youngster.
     "Wait, Scully. I'll bet they've got night vision goggles;
they did the last time I escaped. And we can't leave Mulder."
     Scully frowned. "They're after you, not him. They won't
hurt him." She didn't believe that, and neither did Pidge.
Scully knew they needed to escape, but didn't want to make
them an easy target by moving if Pidge's suspicion about the
goggles was true.
     There was a pause in the action while Akerson waited for
the drug to work on Mulder. Clifford climbed the fence and
approached him cautiously after a few minutes, scooting the
pistol away from his limp hand. "He's out," he said to his
boss. The most Mulder could manage was a groan. Akerson
climbed the fence and checked Mulder himself, nodding in
satisfaction.
     Akerson called out, "Agent Scully, I think I've got
something that belongs to you. And you've got something that
belongs to me. I suggest we make a trade." He looked to his
employee. "Tony, cuff him to one of the fence poles, in case
he starts to wake up. The dose was enough for Pidge, but it
will wear off quickly on him."
     He looked around. "I hope you're still around, Agent
Scully, because I'd hate to have to shoot your partner for no
reason at all. Do you have any idea how painful a shattered
kneecap is?" Scully jumped at the crack of a 'silenced' pistol
shot, but Akerson had bluffed, firing the bullet into the
ground a few feet away from where Mulder sat, leaning against
the fence. The muzzle flash of the gun illuminated the scene
for a moment.
      "Pidge!" Scully shouted, as the young woman darted past
her to Mulder's side.
     "Leave him alone!" Pidge cried to Akerson, taking
Mulder's face in both hands, fearing the worst. Finding him
half-conscious, she tried to clear the drug out of his system.
She recognized the chemical from her last escape attempt, when
it had been used on her. Mulder gasped as the healer forced
the drug through his system rapidly. It burned in his blood
and he had to grit his teeth to keep from crying out as he
woke up.
     "All right, Agent Scully. Hands up," Akerson called,
looking right at her. Scully complied, coming forward. She
could see that Pidge had been correct. Akerson and Clifford
were both wearing light amplification goggles.
     "Are you okay, Mulder?" Pidge said, helping him to sit
up.
     "You should have stayed with Scully," he protested, a
little woozy.
     "You let Tony cuff you, Ms. Scully, or this time I really
will shoot Agent Mulder," Dr. Akerson said calmly, sure that
he held all the good cards in this game. He trained his pistol
on Mulder and Pidge froze, torn between moving away and
protecting a man who had risked his life for her.
     "Don't, Scully," Mulder said.
     "She's not armed," Pidge cried. "Let them go, and I'll go
with you."
     Scully addressed the security guard. "Are you willing to
kill for Dr. Akerson? Because he isn't going to let us go. And
we're not going to let you take Pidge without a fight."
     Tony considered this for a moment. "Boss, I tried to tell
you, this is a dead-end. You're just getting yourself in
deeper."
     "You just follow orders and leave the dirty work to me.
I've got enough money to get myself out of this." He paused,
considering the situation carefully. "I guess you're right,
Ms. Scully. You and Tony both. It's time to cut my losses."
     With a small motion he shifted his aim from Mulder to
Pidge and fired. Pidge jerked back against the fence and fell
to the ground as the bullet caught her in the abdomen. She
made no sound, only writhing in pain as blood soaked into her
shirt under her hands. Mulder struggled against the handcuffs,
but they held him firmly in place. The fence rattled with his
efforts.
     "Jesus!" Tony shouted. Then, "Don't move!" as he covered
Scully, who had taken a step toward Pidge. "Akerson, have you
lost your mind?" he cried.
     "I can't let any of them live, Tony. You just watch my
back, like I pay you to, and keep your mouth shut. I'll handle
this." He took two steps toward Pidge, who had slumped onto
her side, bleeding profusely. "Don't make this any harder than
it is, girl. Hold still." He took careful aim between her
eyes.
     "_No!_" Mulder screamed.
     There was a sharp pop, and Akerson collapsed, shot in the
side of the head by Clifford. Scully immediately went to help
Pidge, and Clifford swung around to cover her again,
reflexively, but he did not shoot. Mulder watched anxiously as
Clifford aimed at him for a moment, then holstered his weapon
and went to stand near Scully and Pidge, leaving Mulder bound
to the fence.
     Pidge was very pale in the starlight, losing prodigious
amounts of blood. Scully had eased her flat onto her back and
was applying pressure to the wound with her bare hands.
     "Hepatic artery," she said to no-one in particular.
"We've got to get her to a trauma center."
     "No!" Pidge protested. "You can't send me to a hospital.
Just don't let me pass out." She closed her eyes halfway and
breathed through gritted teeth, wrapping her left hand around
one of Scully's wrists, placing her right over Scully's hands.
She fought to stay awake, knitting torn tissue together with
her skill and power.
     "Don't die, Pidge," Clifford whispered.
     "It may be a little late for that," Mulder called. "Get
me out of these cuffs." Clifford pulled out a key and released
him. Mulder rubbed his wrists, glaring death at the late Dr.
Akerson's henchman. He dropped to one knee behind his partner.
"Scully?"
     "She's dying, Mulder. But she's right; we can't take her
to a hospital. She'd be right back where she started, if she
survived." Several long minutes passed. "There isn't anything
I can do but watch."
     "Hey, Mulder," Clifford said. "Help me get Akerson's body
back in our van."
     Mulder eyed him suspiciously. "What then?" he asked.
     "I'll take his body back to ColeMed and tell them that he
killed Pidge and then you killed him, but didn't want it on
your record. So you left me to dispose of his body while you
disposed of hers. They know he was into some shady stuff, so I
don't think they'll pursue it. They'll come up with some sort
of story for the press."
     He sighed heavily and continued, "The doc had it right --
it's time to cut my losses, too. But not at the price of
Pidge's life. She never hurt anybody. She saved dozen of
people's lives. Maybe hundreds. She deserved better." Clifford
carefully collected the spent shell casings from the three
pistol shots that had been fired, and one of the two darts. He
went back to the van and returned with a pair of bolt cutters,
opening a section of fence. Mulder helped him carry the body
back to the road and put it into the back of the van.
     "I know it burns you, college-boy, not to be able to
arrest me for fear of exposing Pidge, but I'd just as soon go
to jail as to have to live in silence with what happened
tonight," Clifford said. Mulder watched the other man get in
the van and drive away.
     Returning to his position near Scully, Mulder watched
Pidge struggle to heal herself. After a few minutes, Scully
whispered in amazement, "I think the bleeding's stopped."
     Pidge forced her eyes open; they were wild as ever, but
tired. "I got the worst of it, Dana. But I'm gonna faint now,"
she said very seriously, and then did just that.
     Scully and Mulder managed to get her into the back seat
of the car without reopening her wound, thankful for the hold
Clifford had put in the fence. They wrapped her slight form in
Mulder's trench coat to protect the seat from bloodstains.
     Scully sat in the back seat with Pidge's head in her lap
while Mulder drove considerably above the speed limit down the
Turnpike and toward home. They were both glad it was so late
at night, becoming early in the morning before the trip was
over.
     Even though Scully's apartment was closer (being in DC),
they decided to take Pidge to Mulder's place in Alexandria: He
had fewer friends who might drop by and ask questions. They
made it there in three hours. Fortunately, no-one saw Mulder
carry Pidge's limp body inside. He laid her out on his bed and
covered her with a blanket. Scully checked her once more, then
left to get her medical bag from her house.
     Mulder's clothes were spotted with blood, and he stepped
into the bathroom to change and clean up a little, poking his
head out every couple of minutes to check on Pidge. About ten
minutes after they had arrived, she stirred.
     "Dana? Dr. Scully?" she called softly.
     "Scully's not here, Pidge. She went to get her medical
bag. It's me, Mulder."
     "I know who you are. I'm really thirsty. Could you get me
a glass of water? Not too cold."
     He started to do as she asked, then hesitated. "Is that a
good idea?"
     "Sure," she answered. "My digestive tract isn't affected.
There's no risk of peritonitis."
     Mulder filled a glass from the bathroom tap and helped
her drink. "How do you feel?"
     "Really shitty. Like I've been stomped on. What did you
do to Tony?"
     "I let him go," he said quietly.
     Pidge reached out to him. "Give me your hand." Her grip
was weak as she clasped the hand he offered. "It's a little
easier for me to heal myself if I've got someone to focus on.
I don't know if that makes sense." Her voice was a whisper.
     "It doesn't need to," he said. She was quiet for a while,
then her grip relaxed as she fell asleep again, her breathing
steady. He sat on the edge of the bed holding her hand until
Scully returned.
     "How's she doing?" Scully asked as she fitted a blood-
pressure cuff around Pidge's upper arm.
     "She was awake, briefly, and tried to heal herself
further. She fell back asleep, so I don't know if she managed
to do any good."
     Scully shook her head at the blood-pressure reading.
"Seventy-one over thirty-two; it could be worse. She must have
lost over a liter of blood." Scully looked up at Mulder. "She
was lucid?" Scully asked, checking Pidge's temperature and
pulse.
     "Yeah. She was only awake for maybe two minutes, but she
asked about Tony and was looking for you."
     Scully nodded and wrote down the time and her patient's
vital signs in a small notebook. Taking out a small kit, she
pricked Pidge's earlobe and gathered a few drops of blood in a
disposable pipette. "I'm trying to type her blood," she
explained.
     "It's a shame you can't use some of what soaked into her
clothing," he said. "Or ours," he added, noting that Scully
hadn't changed. The lower half of her pants were stiff with
blood from kneeling on the dirt next to Pidge.
     Mulder's comment gave Scully an idea. "You can clean some
of that up, if you don't mind." Mulder nodded, then went into
the bathroom and soaked a washcloth in hot water while looking
for an old towel. By the time he returned to the bedroom,
Scully had cut Pidge's shirt off, put on gloves, and was
checking the bullet wound. Mulder balked for a moment when he
saw that Pidge was naked from the waist up.
     Scully glanced at him, then went back to what she was
doing, saying, "Be sure to keep away from the wound. I don't
want to risk an infection, if she hasn't got one already.
She's already got a slight fever." She got a betadine swab
from her bag and began to clean the area. The two of them
worked in silence for a while. Mulder was shocked at how pale
and fragile Pidge looked.
     Scully put a bandage over the wound after deciding
against stitching it, and undressed Pidge the rest of the way.
Then she took over the job of cleaning the dried blood off of
Pidge's body. Mulder confirmed that Scully was going to spend
the night at his place, and went out to the rental car and got
their luggage. He talked her into sleeping on the couch,
saying, "I don't think I'm going to sleep very well tonight
anyway, so I may as well take the chair in the bedroom. If
Pidge needs you, I'll get you."
     Several hours later, Mulder was startled when he heard
Pidge gasp and moan in pain. "Easy, Pidge. You're safe," he
said, getting out of the chair and sitting gently on the bed
near her.
     "Hey, Spooky," came her weak reply. "Where am I and where
the hell are my new clothes?"
     "You're in my apartment. Scully had to cut your shirt
off, but your jeans are probably salvageable. That's one of my
T-shirts you've got on, and a pair of Scully's pajama bottoms.
Do you need anything? Scully's in the living room, asleep on
the couch. I can get her."
     "No. I think I had a dream or something. How come you're
sitting in here in the dark?" She could barely make him out in
the light coming through the curtains from the streetlamps
outside.
     "Just keeping an eye on you."
     Pidge shifted on the bed with a grunt. "I really hate to
think I've run you out of your own bed."
     "That's all right. I'm having a bout of insomnia tonight,
anyway. Besides, I don't think you'd find the chair very
comfortable."
     "No, I suppose not. Thanks for helping me. I'm sorry that
I've caused you so much trouble."
     "You're welcome. Go back to sleep now," he said.
     "'kay," she mumbled. "Night."
     Mulder sat quietly in his chair until she settled into
sleep again. Then there was a soft crunch as he popped a
sunflower seed open between his teeth.
                               
                          **********

Sunday, August 13, 1995, Alexandria, VA.

     Scully woke up well after dawn and was shocked when she
saw the time, nearly eight-thirty. She stuck her head in the
bedroom, calling Mulder's name softly.
     He stirred and opened his eyes. "Morning, Scully. Did you
sleep okay?"
     "Yes. Your couch is pretty comfortable," she replied. She
walked around to Pidge's side of the bed and checked her
pulse.
     "Good morning, Dana," Pidge said with a yawn.
     "Good morning, Pidge. How do you feel today?"
     "I feel great," the young woman replied. Scully looked
skeptical. "Is that just plain great, or great compared to
yesterday?"
     "Oh, that's great compared to yesterday. Compared to
usual, I feel awful."
     Scully put her hand against Pidge's forehead, then got a
thermometer out of her bag. Pidge held it in her mouth while
Scully checked her blood pressure again.
     Mulder got up, saying, "I'll go see what I can make for
breakfast."
     When the thermometer beeped, Scully took it back. "One
hundred and one point two. That's up three tenths since I
checked it earlier this morning," she said. "Is that normal
for you, Pidge?"
     "No. I'm about ninety-nine usually. But I do run hot when
I'm doing a healing, so I suspect that's what's causing it. I
don't feel like I have an infection."
     Scully smiled. "I'd like to check your wound." Pidge
scooted aside a couple of inches on the bed, making room for
Scully to sit down, and pulled up her shirt. Scully probed
around the area gently with her fingertips and changed the
bandage. "Swelling's gone down a little. Is it less tender?"
     Pidge nodded, then said, "Dana, can I ask you something?"
"Of course," Scully replied. Pidge looked very nervous. "I've
been having some really strong mood swings the last couple of
days. One moment, I'm almost manic, and the next I'm so
depressed I want to die."
     Scully put her hand on Pidge's arm. "You've been through
a lot in the last two days. And you haven't exactly led a
normal life, either. Have you had problems with this before?"
She was relieved that Pidge seemed aware of how erratic her
behavior was.
     Pidge hesitated. "On and off," she finally admitted.
Then, in a rush, "Sometimes when I adjust my body chemistry,
things get out of whack. The last six months it's just been
one thing after another, between work and Akerson's
experiments, and my own. I haven't had a chance to rest." She
stopped talking, afraid she had said too much already.
     Scully started to ask what Pidge was doing altering her
own body chemistry, but decided that now would not be a good
time. Instead, she tried to reassure the frightened woman.
"You're obviously lucid, and it's also good that you're aware
of the problem. I wouldn't worry about it too much right now.
Just concentrate on getting over this gunshot wound. Okay?"
     "Okay. Thanks. It's, it's kind of hard for me to open
up," she stammered. "I've been hiding everything for so long."
     Scully's voice lost it's professional tone, and she
leaned a little closer to Pidge. "Do you want to talk about
it?"
     "No. Not right now. Not yet."
     The door had slammed closed again, for now. Scully wanted
to know more about Pidge, but she realized that she wasn't
going to get the opportunity that morning. "Okay. You just let
me know, though. Or Mulder; he's a good listener. You can
trust him. Would you like to eat?"
     "Oh. Yeah. That would be a good idea," Pidge replied.
"You'll have to help me up."
     "Oh, no. I meant for you to stay here. Let me see what
Mulder's got, and we'll bring you something." Scully helped
Pidge sit up, which seemed to satisfy her for the moment, then
she went into the kitchen, where Mulder was putting a couple
of waffles into the toaster.
      "So what do we have to pick from for breakfast?" Scully
asked, glad for the chance to change the subject.
     Mulder answered, "Some fresh fruit, frozen waffles,
sausage links, stale cereal, and sour milk. And a couple of
frozen entrees."
     "What kind?" Pidge yelled from the bedroom. Mulder ticked
the choices off. "Lasagna, turkey breast with stuffing, sweet
and sour pork...."
     Pidge interrupted him. "Could I have the lasagna?" Mulder
made a face, looking somewhat disgusted, but said, "If it's
okay with your doctor, it's fine with me."
     "She needs the iron," said Scully, "and the calories."
Mulder fished the package out of the freezer and put it in the
microwave. "Whatever you say, ladies."
     Pidge called out again, "I'm sorry I don't have any money
to pay for my food and clothing. And I'm keeping you away from
your work, I know. Oh, and thanks for cleaning me up, too,
Dana."
     "Actually, that was mostly Mulder's doing," Scully said,
stepping back into the doorway of the bedroom. Mulder added,
"Scully was busy trying to make sure you weren't going to
bleed to death on us."
     Pidge blushed, as much as was possible with the amount of
blood she'd lost. "Mulder? You mean he saw me naked?"
     Scully said, "Partially, yes. Is that a problem?"
     "Uh, well, I don't think I'd have been so calm about him
watching me all night if I'd known. No harm done, though."
     Mulder looked over Scully's shoulder, grinned
mischievously, and said, "Be careful. The way you're blushing,
you're liable to pass out."
     The rest of breakfast passed without incident and Pidge
went back to sleep soon after she finished eating. Scully and
Mulder sat at the table, discussing Pidge and their case.
Mulder asked, "Do you think we ought to move her to your
apartment?"
     "No," she replied with a shake of her head. "It will
probably attract less attention to her if she stays in one
place. And she's recovering at a phenomenal rate. If I were
just now examining her injuries, I'd have to guess that she
was shot three days ago, rather than ten hours ago."
     "Is she going to make it?" he asked.
     "I don't see why not. Unless she takes a sudden turn for
the worse, which is unlikely. Or reopens the wound."
     "Good," he said, stretching. "I'm going to take a shower
and go by the office to pick up our mail. Will you stay here
with Pidge?"
     "Sure," Scully said. "But would you rather I go? You
don't look like you got much sleep last night."
     "That'd be great, Scully. I'd still like to take a
shower, though." Scully nodded, and Mulder grabbed some
clothing from the bedroom. He paused for a moment and glanced
at Pidge, who was lying pale and still.
     The rest of that day was uneventful, and the night passed
much the same, except that Mulder slept more, but just as
poorly, in the chair.
                               
                          **********
                               
Monday, August 14, 1995, Alexandria, VA.

     Pidge was restless and insisted that Scully allow her to
get up and walk to the kitchen for breakfast. Mulder was
stretching his back as they entered. "Morning, Pidge," he
said.
     She put her hand on his back, then ran it under his T-
shirt and placed it against his skin. He gasped, a little
startled. "Cold hand!" he said. "You could give a guy a little
warning."
     She ignored him and shifted the position of her hand
minutely. Her hand warmed up, and he could feel his muscles
relax. He leaned both hands on the counter in front of him and
stretched again. "Thanks. That feels great."
     Scully cautioned, "Easy. You don't want to strain
yourself." She guided the younger woman to a chair.
     "I won't. All I had to do was tell the muscles to relax.
That didn't take any energy."
     After breakfast, Mulder and Scully spent the morning
working on their report, trying to decide how much of the
truth they could tell. Scully was doing the writing, on her
PowerBook.
     "Oh, what a tangled web we weave," Pidge said as she
walked into the living room. Her color was much better. "Are
you writing a report, or a work of fiction?"
     "A little of both," Scully admitted. "Did you drink all
of your Pedialyte?"
     "Ugh. Yes, ma'am, Dr. Scully. I don't want me to get
dehydrated, either." Pidge plucked the top book off of the
stack of books on the coffee table, holding her side as she
bent over slowly. They were all on the topic of creating a new
(or false) identity. "These look subversive," she said. "Where
did you get these?"
     Mulder said, "I borrowed them from some friends."
     Scully rolled her eyes, knowing that meant 'The Lone
Gunmen'. "What? No 'Anarchist's Cookbook'?" she asked.
     With a laugh, Mulder replied, "No thanks. I don't need
Pidge making plastic explosives in my kitchen."
     Pidge flipped through the book quickly, then asked, "Can
I use a pad of paper and pencil?" "In the top drawer of the
desk," he replied. Pidge got the items, then sat down and
started to read and take notes.
     After about ten minutes, Mulder leaned back on the couch.
He noticed that Pidge was intently watching the two of them,
so he nudged Scully and pointed. Pidge tore the top sheet
carefully from the pad and handed it to them. It was a quick,
but rather nice, pencil sketch: Scully with her feet up on the
coffee table and the computer in her lap, Mulder sitting
sideways on the couch next to her. Mulder grinned at it,
nodding at Pidge.
     "This is good," Scully said.
     "Thanks," Pidge replied, smiling shyly. She opened the
book she'd picked up and actually started reading it this
time, taking notes.
                               
                          **********
                               
     Scully had gone out to get dinner, leaving Mulder and
Pidge to watch the evening news. The first few stories were
filled with the usual assortment of tragedies: a shooting,
believed to be drug-related; an ugly court battle over child
custody. But as the anchor began reading the text of the next
story, Mulder recognized the ColeMed building as the graphic
in the backdrop. There were a number of ColeMed employees
gathered in the parking lot, along with two police cars and an
ambulance. He and Pidge both froze, captivated.
     "In what was apparently a murder/suicide, ColeMed
Pharmaceuticals' Director of Research and Development, Dr.
Chester Akerson, was found dead today in the trunk of a
company car in the parking lot of ColeMed's New Castle
headquarters. One of the company's security officers, Tony
Clifford, was also found dead, in the driver's seat. Each man
had been killed by a single gunshot wound to the head. Police
say that Mr. Clifford left a suicide note, but are not
disclosing it's contents at this time. The CEO of ColeMed, Dr.
Eugene Cole, had no comment on the circumstances surrounding
this bizarre incident, however he did make the following
statement."
     The video cut to Dr. Cole. "We've lost a prized
researcher and a good friend. My heart goes out to the
families of both men, and we will all struggle to understand
what happened in the days and weeks ahead."
     The news anchor finished his story. "ColeMed
Pharmaceuticals is one of Pennsylvania's largest medical
firms. Dr. Akerson is survived by a sister, living in
California. Mr. Clifford is survived by two older brothers and
his mother, who live in the area."
     Pidge had gone deathly pale, and she jumped up from her
chair and staggered to the door. "Pidge," Mulder called,
following her. He took her arm and she flinched away from him,
leaning against the doorjamb and sliding to the floor slowly.
He sat down beside her. "Take it easy," he said. Her eyes were
unfocused and she didn't respond to his voice. "Pidge? I know
Tony was your friend."
     She reacted to that, saying, "No. That's just it. I cared
about him, but he was one of the ones who kept me prisoner. I
only liked him because he was nicer than the rest. And yet,
now there's no-one -- no-one but you and Scully -- that even
know I'm alive. And I don't even have the strength to be angry
at what they've done to me."
     "I understand," he said softly, with that sad expression
of his.
     She finally looked at him. "You do, don't you? You're one
of the walking wounded, Mulder. You've had so much tragedy and
betrayal in your life. I saw glimpses of it when I healed you.
How do you go on? How do you not give up?"
     Mulder took a deep breath and leaned against the opposite
wall of the hallway. "You have to find something to believe
in, either inside or outside of yourself. I dunno; I suppose
that sounds kind of pompous. But sometimes the good guys win."
He smiled wryly. "Not often, but it happens."
     "Tell me what happened to your sister," Pidge said
suddenly.
     Mulder was shocked; shaken for a few seconds at the
sudden stab of pain the subject brought him. But he told her
the story. How he had gone to a hypnotherapist, who had
uncovered hidden memories of his younger sister being abducted
by aliens when he was a teenager. Of how he had been aware of
what was going on, but had been unable to move, unable to even
cry out. He told how her disappearance had destroyed his
family. Scully had returned halfway through the telling of the
tale, and she joined them on the floor in silence.
     When Mulder finished, Pidge was quiet for a long time. "I
wasn't supposed to see the results of the genetic testing Dr.
Akerson did on me. But I broke into the secure files once."
There was a long pause and Pidge wrapped her arms about her
knees and buried her face in her arms. In a muffled, shaky
voice, she said, "Good God, Mulder -- I'm not even human." The
words hung in the air.
     Scully looked at Mulder. She wasn't certain whether to
believe Pidge, but from his expression it was obvious that
Mulder was captivated by her tale. Scully reached past him to
Pidge and stroked her hair. "It's okay, Pidge. We're still
your friends."
     Something gave way inside the young woman and she began
to cry. Mulder helped her halfway to her feet, then scooped
her up and carried her back into the living room, depositing
her on the couch and sitting down next to her. Scully took her
coat off and followed Mulder, sitting in a chair near the
couch.
     Pidge had stiffened in a panic when Mulder picked her up,
but she relaxed again when he put her back down. She curled up
in the corner of the couch, facing the back of it, and cried
quietly for several more minutes. Then she suddenly sat up and
grabbed at her wound in pain. A spot of blood stained her
shirt.
     Before Scully could help her, Pidge had removed the
bandage and was holding it in front of her. Two bullet
fragments lay in the center of the bloody gauze. The wound had
closed considerably since the previous day, and was already
scabbing over again. Scully wiped the area clean with a few
tissues, amazed that Pidge's body had expelled the bullet.
     "What a day," Pidge said with a sniffle, shaking her
head.
     "Feeling better?" Mulder asked.
     Pidge shrugged. "I'm not sure."
     Mulder stared at her for a moment. "Pidge, what did you
mean, you're not human?" he asked.
     "Mulder," Scully said sharply.
     He looked at her desperately. "I have to know, Scully."
He turned to Pidge, saying, "It's okay, whatever you tell us.
We'll help you. But I have to know what you meant."
     The young woman buried her face in her hands. "I'm a
mutant. My metabolism, my blood, my nervous system. I'm not
like you. I'm not like anyone."
     "That doesn't mean you aren't human," Mulder said gently,
almost disappointed at her answer.
     "Mulder's right, Pidge. There's nothing unnatural about
genetic mutation. You're different, but you're still human.
Especially compared to some of the people I've met on this
job." Scully glanced at Mulder, who smiled at her words.
     "I don't know what to believe anymore," Pidge said. "It's
a scary thing to feel your sanity slipping away."
     Mulder nodded. "I've been there." Pidge leaned her head
against his shoulder and let him put his arms around her
briefly. Then, uncomfortable with the intimacy, she got up
from the couch and walked over to Scully. "So," she said,
pointing to the bullet fragments in Scully's hand, "Am I
faking it?"
     "I don't see how you could be. Although an x-ray would
tell me for certain."
     Pidge snorted. "You are one tough customer, Dana."
     "Believe it or not, I _have_ seen weirder things than
this," Scully said in response. "This whole experience ranks
right up there with the best of them, though." She reached
into her purse. "I swung by the office and this was in my
mail. It was addressed to me, but it's for you." She handed an
envelope to Pidge. It was five inches by eight inches and
bulky.
     Pidge opened the flap and gasped, pulling out a thick
stack of hundred dollar bills. "Jesus!"
     Scully said, "I counted it. There's fifty-eight hundred
dollars in there, and a note, addressed to you. I haven't read
that."
     Pidge pulled out the small hand-written note. She glanced
at it, read it a second time more slowly, then dropped it and
the money on the floor and ran into the bedroom. "Pidge!"
Scully called, following her.
     Mulder gathered up the money and the note, which read:
     
     Pidge,
          I figured you needed this lots more than I did. You
     deserved better than you got from me, from Akerson, from
     everybody. I'm sorry, kid. This doesn't make up for what
     happened, but I hope it helps a little.
          Tony
          
     "Probably his life savings," Mulder said to himself. He
sighed and put everything back inside the envelope. From down
the hall, he could hear Scully talking to Pidge through the
bedroom door, although he couldn't make out the words. Pidge's
shout of, "Leave me alone!" was clear enough, though.
     Scully came back into the living room and dropped heavily
onto the couch. "What happened while I was out?" she asked.
Mulder told her about the news report. "My God. No wonder she
reacted like that. The poor kid. She's very fragile right now.
I don't know how much more she can take."
     "Do you think we're in over our heads?" he asked.
     "I'm beginning to wonder. I don't think we can justify
more than a week off work without arousing suspicion, and I
think she may need watching longer than that. It's not good to
keep her in one place for too long, either. Some of Akerson's
partners are bound to come looking for her, and we're the
logical place to start."
     Mulder nodded. "I know. Look, if you can stay with her
tomorrow, I'll try to get started on some new ID's for her,
okay? She'll be more comfortable with you around."
     "Sure. Do you want me to spend the night here?"
     "No," he said. "I think we'll make it on our own. I'll
just stay out of her way for the rest of the night."
     "How are you holding up?" she asked, her voice full of
concern for him. He smiled at her. "I'm a little tired. It
gets pretty tense in here. But I'll be fine. How much do I owe
you for dinner?"
     "It's my treat," she said. "Come on, let's go eat before
it gets cold."
                               
                          **********
                               
     Scully tried again after dinner to get Pidge to come out
of the bedroom, to no avail, although she did finally talk the
distraught young woman into letting her check her vitals
before she left. Scully tried to talk to her, but Pidge
wouldn't answer. Wouldn't even look at her.
     Mulder stared at the television, not really watching it,
until after midnight. He laid on the couch, covered by a throw
blanket. But despite his fatigue, sleep would not come. So he
turned off the TV, planning to relax by masturbating so he
could get some desperately needed rest. He thought about
putting in one of his porn videos, but decided against it, not
wanting the sounds to wake Pidge. He closed his eyes and
drifted into a fantasy, enjoying the sensation of stroking
himself.
     Suddenly, he had the feeling he was being watched. Lying
as he was with his head toward the door, he had to crane his
neck up and around to look. Pidge was standing in the doorway,
watching him. He felt a blush run up his face to his hairline.
     "Don't stop," she said.
     All rational thought congealed into gelatin in his brain.
When he was able to speak again, he decided that the safest
course would be to pretend he hadn't heard her. "Was the
television keeping you awake?" he asked, pulling his hand out
of his sweatpants.
     She walked over to the couch and knelt on the floor
beside him, in the shadows cast by the light of his fish tank.
"No. I couldn't sleep. I just got up to see if you were
awake."
     He grinned despite his embarrassment. "I am now," he
quipped.
     "You don't have to stop. I've never seen anyone
masturbate before." She brushed the fingertips of her left
hand across his chest, sliding the fingers of her right hand
through his hair. Her nipples stood erect under the thin
material of the borrowed T-shirt she wore.
     Little alarms went off in his head. He caught both of her
hands in his. "I don't think this is a good idea."
     "Why not? It's my choice to be here."
     "Because you almost died two days ago, and you're only
eighteen."
     She smiled at him. "Not to mention that I'm a little
crazy, and I manipulate people using sex."
     "Now that you mention it, those are factors, too," he
admitted. "You're so small, Pidge. I'd be afraid I'd hurt
you."
     "I don't want to have sex with you, Mulder. I just want
to watch. And to help. I just want to touch someone. Besides,
you couldn't hurt me, even if you wanted to. The first guy
that tried to rape me succeeded, but the second didn't. And
after the third, they stopped trying."
     Mulder swallowed. "That sounds ominous."
     "Oh. No, sorry. I didn't mean to scare you. He was fine
once the swelling went down."
     "Oh, okay. Now I feel better," he said, a little
sarcastically.
     She brought his hand up to her face and kissed the open
palm. "Please," she whispered desperately. "Don't push me
away. It all hurts so much. I need to forget, for just a
little while. I need to be with you."
     He chewed his lip for a moment. "I think this is where
I'm supposed to say, 'Couldn't we just cuddle?' I don't
understand, Pidge. You've been afraid of me since we met. Why
would you suddenly decide that I'm not a threat?"
     "You were very kind to me today. You've been gentle with
me all along. And when I looked in on you just now, you looked
so peaceful. So vulnerable." As she talked, she brushed her
lips along his hand, finally grazing her teeth on either side
of his thumb, tracing little circles on it with her tongue.
Mulder shivered and started to pull his hand away. But she
released his hand before he could move, placing it on his
chest before letting go.
     She hung her head. "I'm sorry. You've no reason to trust
me not to do to you what I did to Scully. I shouldn't have
intruded on you like this."
     "No, it's all right. But I'm still not sure what you
really want." Despite his better judgment, he was drawn to her
pain like a moth to flame. It had been months since he'd been
sexual with a woman, and her offer aroused him. A little
company might be nice; he wouldn't hurt her -- he knew he was
rationalizing, but didn't really care. He knew what it was
like to be hurt, to feel lonely.
     She said, "I just want to be with you right now. To touch
you. To feel your body move and to see your face when you
come. I want to not be so goddamn alone," She looked him in
the eye, stumbling over the unaccustomed honesty in her words.
     He reached up and pulled her closer until they met in a
kiss. She was tentative at first, but gradually relaxed,
moving her lips gently against his. He was warm in the cool
air of the room. She leaned against him, sliding her arms
around him, running her fingers through his hair.
     Mulder let his hand slide down to the small of her back.
He was surprised at how sturdy she felt, despite her small
size, her frail appearance. He kissed a trail down her throat
and she clutched at him with a gasp of passion. At her urging,
he pulled off his shirt and she nuzzled against his chest,
first licking his nipples, then sucking cool air over them. He
pulled her back up to his face, kissing her harder now. She
backed away when he slid his tongue into her mouth.
     "Easy," she said, trembling, and leaned against him
again. He traced her lip with just the tip of his tongue this
time, and she moaned. He closed his eyes at the sound,
breathing faster. He enticed her tongue into his mouth and
found himself moaning.
     Pidge slid his right hand from her back and moved it down
to his crotch. "Show me," she whispered. She helped him slide
his pants down, then ran her fingers over the inside of his
thighs as he began to stroke his penis again.
     Mulder let his head fall back against the couch and
closed his mind to everything but the physical sensations
surrounding him. Pidge slid the sharp edge of her fingernails
down his sides and across his belly, then laid her left hand
over his right for a few minutes to share in the rhythm of his
pleasure.
     She moved her attention from place to place on his body:
her mouth found the inside of his elbow; her teeth nibbled his
wrist, just below the thumb; she tilted his head to one side
and ran her tongue around the edge of his ear, breathing his
name.
     Mulder rolled halfway up onto his side and drew her body
against his, pressing his face against her small breasts
through her shirt. She cradled his head with one hand,
stroking his back and legs with the other.
     As he could feel the orgasm gathering for release, Pidge
slid down the couch and took him into her mouth. He cried out
softly, barely holding back from his climax. He trembled on
the edge of it, forcing the sensations to climb higher. When
they finally crested, he let go, giving in to it completely,
crying out again as the spasms rocked his body.
     When they subsided, he felt Pidge release him, pulling
the blanket back up to his waist to keep him warm as he rolled
onto his back. She swallowed, then rested her head on his
chest, brushing her fingers through the hairs there. "Thanks,
Mulder. That was nice."
     He couldn't find his voice for a moment. "Um. That _was_
nice. That was very nice. You didn't have to do that."
     She slid closer to his face. "I know that. I didn't
_have_ to do anything. I wanted to do that for you, though."
She kissed him, and he could taste himself in her mouth.
     Now that he was relaxed, Mulder found himself fighting
the urge to sleep. He pulled his pants back up and rolled onto
his side, pulling Pidge up onto the couch to lay next to him,
sliding his arms around her. "What would you like me to do for
you?" he said huskily.
     Her eyes went wide. "I, I don't know," she stammered. "I
hadn't really thought about it."
     He stroked her hair and kissed her, sliding his hand up
to caress her breast, brushing the nipple with his thumb. She
moaned into his mouth. Mulder pulled away and kissed her
cheek. Seeing her expression, he said, "You aren't nervous,
are you? Not after all that?"
     "It isn't as easy to be brave when you're not in
control," she admitted.
     "You're still in control," he said with a gentle smile.
"I'd really like to do for you what you did for me, but I
won't do anything you don't want me to do."
     She blushed. "I think I'd like that," she said into his
chest. "But, would you mind shaving first? Your beard is
freaking me out."
     Mulder laughed and gathered her up into his arms, rising
from the couch and carrying her into the bedroom. He was
amazed again at how small she was; smaller than Scully. He
grinned to himself at the direction his thoughts had turned,
then he turned down the covers and laid her on the bed.
     "Don't go anywhere," he said, ducking into the bathroom
to quickly shave. He returned, sliding under the covers to her
side. After a moment, he pulled his sweatpants off and dropped
them over the side of the bed.
     "This is warmer than the couch," he said, pulling her
close. She trembled as she met the naked length of his body.
"Relax," he whispered, trailing kisses down her throat. She
shivered with a gasp and he kissed her cheek and temple
lightly until her breathing slowed and she kissed him. His
face lit up with a smile and she smiled back as he hugged her
and kissed the tip of her nose. She laughed, then closed her
eyes as he kissed her on the mouth, humming deep in her
throat.
     Her body rose to meet his hands as he touched her,
stroking her face, her breasts, her ass and legs. She tugged
on her shirt and he helped her pull it off. When he took one
of her nipples into his mouth, she grabbed a handful of his
hair. "Careful," he said with a laugh. "That comes out if you
pull hard enough."
     Pidge laughed, too, smoothing his hair back down. "Sorry,
Mulder. You know, I feel really stupid calling you that. Do
you actually make your lovers call you Mulder?"
     "Um, hmm," he replied, twirling his tongue around her
nipple. He shifted his position, leaning some of his weight
against her, sliding his knee between her legs. "Is that too
much weight?" he asked.
     She ground her hips against him with a long sigh. "No,
but -- God, you're tall!" she exclaimed. He laughed again, and
she closed her eyes as he kissed her, his hands roaming over
her skin. He hugged her more gently than he really wanted to,
mindful of her injury.
     "Tell me what you want," he breathed into her ear. She
froze for a moment, and he added, "It can be anything, or
nothing. I'm here for you right now. You aren't alone."
     Pidge tried to slide her pants down, and Mulder helped
her remove them. "Touch me," she whispered, face pressed into
his hair, unable to meet his eyes.
     He complied eagerly, stroking his hand down the length of
each leg as far as he could reach, first along the outside,
then along the inside. She moaned, almost whimpering, as he
teased her with featherlight touches and kisses.
     "Pidge," he said after a few minutes, taking her face in
his hand. "Is it okay if I go down on you?"
     Pidge nodded, speechless for a moment, her eyes wide.
Mulder grinned at her expression, and she blushed and looked
away. "Yes," she answered, "I'd like that. I can't come that
way, though."
     "That's okay," he said. He let her roll onto her back,
then slid down the length of her body, pushing the covers
aside. He kissed and nipped the skin along the edge of her
mons and inside her leg. She made a strangled noise. "Please.
Don't tease me," she begged. Mulder almost moaned at the heat
in her voice. He could feel his own arousal building again as
he pressed close and parted her with his fingers and tongue.
She was very wet and he was able to slide a finger into her
easily as his lips closed over her clitoris.
     Pidge rose under his touch, pressing herself against his
face and hands, murmuring inarticulately. Mulder slid his
finger in and out slowly, in time with the movements of his
tongue. His other hand was spread over her belly, just
brushing the edge of her wound. She gasped for air, crying out
softly with each thrust he made.
     Finally, she had to stop him, urging him up to kiss her.
He left his finger inside her, his hand on her mons, and she
lifted her body against the weight. She laid her hand over
his, showing him the rhythm she desired. He kissed her deeply,
and she twined her fingers through his hair, holding him to
her with all of her strength.
     When she finally climaxed, she went silent and clung to
Mulder's shoulders, burying her face between his face and the
pillow, arching her body against his with each contraction.
She stopped the motion of his hand after a time, and laid
still, gasping. She shuddered as he pulled his hand free and
gathered her close. The shudder turned into slow rocking as
she began to cry.
     "Pidge, did I hurt you?" he asked, a little worried.
     "No, Mulder, I just...." She couldn't finish through the
tears.
     "Shh, I understand. I just wanted to be sure you were
okay. Relax," he said softly. He remembered the first time
he'd had a lover who cried after having an orgasm. He
understood the power of the emotional release and cradled
Pidge against his chest while she shed a great deal of stress,
pain, and fear. "Can I have a tissue?" she said very softly
after a few minutes.
     "Sure, Pidge. But I'll have to get up," he answered. She
propped herself up on one arm so he could slide out from under
her. Mulder grabbed several tissues, handing one to Pidge. He
tucked the remainder of them between the pillows in case she
needed them later. She blew her nose gratefully. Though she
was no longer sobbing, she still wept for another couple of
minutes. When she stopped, wiping her eyes, she said, "Thanks,
Mulder. You're a sweetheart." She suddenly got a wicked grin
on her face.
     "Don't you dare," he warned.
     "You're a fox!" she pronounced.
     He wrinkled his face up in disgust, trying not to smile.
"I knew you were going to say that."
     She shrugged. "Sorry. Couldn't resist." She curled up
against his chest again. "Thank you for being here for me."
     He smiled and kissed the top of her head. "You're
welcome, Pidge. I enjoyed it, too."
     "Yeah, I noticed. It was very educational." Then she
added, "It was brave of you to be so intimate with someone who
might be crazy."
     "Are you?" he asked.
     She didn't answer him for a few seconds. "What did Dana
tell you?" she asked back.
     "Are you trying to figure out if you can trust her?"
     "No. I'm trying to figure out if she trusts _you_," she
said.
     "She told me that you were worried about your mood
swings. You told her you had altered your body chemistry." He
paused for a moment. "She's concerned about you. We both are."
     "Hmm," she replied, snuggling against his chest. "You're
warm."
     "You're changing the subject," he said.
     "And you're annoying. Don't psychoanalyze me." She sighed
and twined her fingers with his, more tired than angry.
     "Can you get your body back to normal?" he asked.
     "I don't know. I was working toward escaping,
experimenting with my fingerprints, my stamina, lots of
things. At the same time, Akerson worked me so hard the last
six months, healing, doing experiments in regeneration. I just
kept getting further and further out of balance."
     "Is there anything Scully and I can do to help?"
     She propped herself up to face him, looking into his eyes
in the dim light coming from the hallway. "There might be. If
you let me study the way your body works, I can adjust mine to
match. It wouldn't be dangerous, but there's no telling what
memories I might pick up from connecting with your nervous
system. Or Scully's."
     "You're sure it wouldn't be dangerous?" he asked.
     "No. No, I don't see how it could be, for you. I would
only be examining, not changing, whoever I work with. I might
make things worse for myself, though, if I don't do it right."
She chewed her lip a moment. "Mulder, would you really do that
for me?"
     "Sure," he replied. "I'd like to wait until Scully's here
to watch us both."
     "Okay," she said, overwhelmed.
     He didn't want her to fall asleep with that as the last
thing on her mind, so he said, "You were pretty far away, for
a while there. What were you thinking?"
     "What? Oh!" She covered her face with one hand.
     "Don't be embarrassed," he coaxed. "What were you
thinking about?"
     She snorted. "You should know better than to ask
questions like that. But if you must know, I was thinking
about Scully."
     Mulder hugged her gently and laughed. She was amazed at
the sound it made in his chest. "That's okay, Pidge. Sometimes
I think about Scully, too," he admitted. "Good night," he said
finally. "We both need to get to sleep." He fished his clothes
off of the floor and put them back on.
     "Okay. Night, Mulder," Pidge said. She followed his
example, getting dressed again. Then she rolled over, putting
her back to him, and snuggled against him. He rolled on his
side and slid an arm around her, intending to get up in a
little while and go back into the living room.
                               
                          **********
                               
     Scully let herself into Mulder's apartment the next
morning around seven-thirty, trying not to wake either of
them. She was surprised to see that he wasn't asleep on the
couch. She looked into the bedroom, softly calling, "Mulder?"
When she saw that he was sleeping next to Pidge on the bed,
she blinked.
     "Mulder?" she called again. He yawned and smiled at her.
"Good morning, Scully." Then, as he woke up a little more, he
added, "This isn't what it looks like."
     "I hope not," she said. She was too shocked to be as
angry as she thought she ought to be. "Mulder, what the hell
were you thinking?"
     Pidge stretched and smiled nervously at Scully. "Hi.
Don't be mad, Dana. This was my idea. But we didn't have sex."
     "Hello, yourself. I'm glad to hear it," Scully said,
flabergasted.
     Pidge was embarrassed, and didn't wish to embarrass
Mulder, so she left out some significant details of the
night's events, saying only, "I needed company, Dana. I was
feeling so alone, and I asked Mulder to be with me."
     Scully relaxed a little. She'd been more worried about
Pidge hurting Mulder, than the other way around, but
everything seemed to be all right. "You two gave me quite a
start. All I could think of was a bunch of little Mulders
running around the apartment."
     Mulder grinned. "Now _there's_ a scary thought." He sat
up and motioned for Scully to sit down on the edge of the bed
next to Pidge.
     "But impossible," Pidge said. "Even if we'd had sex, I'm
sterile." She sat up slowly, favoring her side, and leaned
back against the headboard of the bed next to Mulder.
     "You're sure?" Scully asked.
     "Dr. Akerson removed both my Fallopian tubes when I was
fifteen."
     Scully frowned in confusion. "You mean he performed a
tubal ligation?"
     "No, Dana, I mean he _removed_ them. He was afraid if he
performed a ligation my body would repair the damage. But, he
rightly believed that I was incapable of regenerating that
much tissue at that age, so he removed them both."
     "That's horrible," Scully said, her shock visible in her
expression.
     Pidge shrugged. "It worked to my advantage. I didn't have
to worry about getting pregnant when I was screwing the
guards. If I ever decide for some insane reason to have kids,
I could probably manage to grow at least one of the tubes
back. Four months ago I regrew the last joint of this finger."
She held up her left hand and wiggled her pinky. "But that was
a mutual decision between myself and Akerson to test my
abilities. Took me a month to regenerate it." Pidge was
detached, discussing the strange details of her life.
     "Scully," Mulder said, "Pidge has an idea of how to
restore the balance of her body chemistry. But she needs one
of us to help."
     "If I can study the state of one of your bodies, I can
adjust mine to match," Pidge explained. "It wouldn't be
dangerous to you. But, as I warned Mulder, I would have to
scan you deeply. I'll pick up a lot of random things from your
mind. From either one of you."
     "I volunteered already," Mulder said.
     "But wouldn't it be easier with me, since I'm female?"
Scully asked.
     Pidge shook her head. "That's not a problem. I'm used to
dealing with the differences between male and female biology.
Besides, Dana, I think I'd have..., I'm still pretty
uncomfortable about what I did to you," she said awkwardly.
"It would be good if you monitored us as an observer, though."
     Scully frowned, shaking her head. "I'm sorry, Pidge, but
I don't think this is a good idea. I don't think you're strong
enough, and I'm not sure we can trust you."
     "That's why I wanted you here," Mulder said. "To make
sure nothing goes wrong."
     "That's a tall order, Mulder," she replied. "Pidge, can't
this wait a few days, until you're stronger?"
     "Dana, I can't stand the paranoia and the mood swings
much longer. I have the control right now to start this
process, and I need to start now. I can do it in stages, but
the first step will be the hardest." She took a shaky breath.
"Please," she whispered.
     "You're certain there's no way you can hurt him?" Scully
asked, one final time.
     "I won't exert any of my strength outside of myself, I
promise. I'd never do anything to hurt Mulder. I'd never do
anything to hurt either one of you. You're the only friends I
have, now." Pidge looked desperately at Scully. *Please,* she
thought.
     "All right," Scully said, reluctantly. "What do you need
to do?"
     Pidge explained that they needed to be comfortable
because she would need to examine Mulder for a couple of
hours. So the three of them decided to work in the living
room, with Pidge sitting on the couch and Mulder lying with
his head in her lap. Scully sat in a chair to one side of
them. Pidge took Mulder's left hand in hers, and threaded the
fingers of her right hand into his hair.
     "Mulder, can you put yourself into a light trance state?"
she asked. "Or do some sort of relaxation exercise?" He closed
his eyes in response and took a deep breath, letting it out
slowly. "That's good," Pidge said. "See you in a few hours,
Dana."
     "Good luck, Pidge," Scully answered. She watched over the
two of them for almost two and a half hours. Then, Mulder's
pattern of breathing changed and he shifted on the couch.
Pidge's right hand slid off of his head as she relaxed.
     "Mulder? Are you okay?" Scully asked.
     "Yes, I'm fine." He sat up next to Pidge, who also
stirred. "How do you feel?" he asked.
     "Better, I think," Pidge replied. "I'm so tired. But I
don't feel quite so sick. Just fatigued." She couldn't even
open her eyes completely. Mulder helped her lay down and she
fell asleep instantly.
     "Well?" Scully asked.
     "I wasn't really aware of anything. I didn't have that
tingling sensation like I did when she was healing me. I think
I even fell asleep."
     Scully nodded. "I saw some rapid-eye movement. Do you
remember dreaming?"
     "No," he replied.
     "How do you feel?" she asked.
     "I'm fine, Scully. In fact, I feel really good," he said,
as he thought about it. "Rested. Alert."
     Scully smiled at him. "That's one less thing to worry
about, then. But that still doesn't explain this morning. What
were the two of you doing, if you weren't having sex?"
     Mulder went crimson. "We were keeping each other company,
Scully. She didn't want to be alone." *Neither did I,* he
thought, but couldn't say it aloud to her. And he certainly
saw no point in revealing the details.
     Scully sighed, shaking her head, and dropped the subject,
to Mulder's great relief. They worked on their report for
Director Skinner again for a while, then Mulder got on his
computer, while Scully skimmed the book on fake identification
that Pidge had started the previous day. Around one p.m.
Mulder decided to fix some soup for lunch, and a little later,
Pidge sat up, yawning.
     "Well, hello," Scully said, cheerfully. "How do you feel,
Pidge?"
     The young woman had to think about it for a while before
answering. "Hungry and grungy. I need a shower." She rubbed
her fingers over her sternum. "I don't feel quite as tense, as
nervous, as I had been. Things seem... lighter, I guess."
     Mulder peeked into the room. "I thought I heard your
voice."
     "Hey, Spooky! What the hell have you been doing to
yourself over the past couple of years? It's a wonder you're
alive. But, I'm pleased to report that I couldn't detect any
diseases or medical conditions, active or latent, that pose a
problem for you."
     "That's good to hear," he replied. "Anything else I
should know?"
     She shrugged, then smiled. "You've got a healthy libido
and a truly perverse sense of humor."
     "I'm sorry I asked," he said. "You're obviously feeling
better."
     "Yes," she said. "I am. I think things may be looking up
for me."
                               
                          **********
                               
     For the next two weeks, Scully and Mulder took turns
spending time with Pidge, researching and building a new
identity for her. She learned quickly and by the end was doing
most of the work herself, leaving them free to return to work
during the days. Pidge and Mulder weren't intimate again, but
she remained very comfortable around him, even badgering him
into showing her where he kept his X-rated videotapes. She
also insisted that he let her sleep on the couch at least part
of the time.
     One evening, she made a pronouncement to the two of them.
"Hey, guys, I'd like to do something for you before I leave.
You've each been through a lot working on all these weird
cases. I don't know much about what you've been through, Dana,
but I can tell that Mulder's been near death more than once.
I'd like to repair whatever old injuries you have, both of
you."
     "Are you strong enough?" Scully asked.
     "Oh, sure. I feel really good, Dana."
     "When did you want to start?" Mulder asked.
     "Now is fine," Pidge answered. "I can do you later
tonight, but I'd like to do Dana now."
     "I'd pay money to see that," Mulder deadpanned.
     Scully couldn't believe he'd said it. "Mulder!" She could
feel herself blushing, but Pidge's skin was even fairer and
had gone rosy.
     Pidge stammered a little, saying, "I'll, uh, I'll get
even with him later, Dana. Don't worry. Will you let me
examine you?"
     "Of course, Pidge. What would you like me to do?"
     "Just lie down on the couch. I'll sit next to you."
     "Will I feel anything?" Scully asked.
     "Yes. The last time, with Mulder, I was more... listening,
I guess is the best word. With this, I'll be probing deeply,
looking for problems."
     Scully did as Pidge asked, only slightly nervous
(remembering the incident in the hotel), letting the younger
woman take hold of her left hand. Pidge slid the fingers of
her right hand under Dana's head. "Close your eyes," Pidge
whispered. "Relax."
     Mulder watched, fascinated, as Pidge's hands shifted
position a few times. She was silent for at least fifteen
minutes, probing deeply. Scully could feel the mutant energy
running down her spine, out along her extremities and back to
Pidge's hands. It was odd, but not unpleasant.
     Pidge cleared her throat. "I thought so. You've been
shot. I can repair most of the internal damage, but leave
enough scar tissue to not arouse suspicion. You've also got
little bits of something strange in your blood, so small I
almost missed them." Scully opened her eyes at this
description, remembering Mulder's hypothesis that she'd been
used in an experiment with alien DNA when she'd vanished.
"I'll round them all up and destroy them."
     "You can work on a microscopic level?" Scully said in
disbelief.
     "Yeah," Pidge said distantly, lost in the sensations of
Scully's body. "Your body can process the debris safely. I
think you'd already eliminated a lot of this junk yourself
anyway."
     As the healer concentrated, Scully could feel the power
surge back into her, many times stronger than before. She
gasped in surprise, looking up at Pidge. But Pidge was far
away, distracted. She saw Mulder tense, concern for her
written all over his face. She smiled at him, mouthing, "It's
okay." He relaxed and nodded, settling back into his chair.
     Pidge slid her hand under Scully's shirt, placing her
fingers over the scar of the entry wound. A ball of heat
formed around the wound, tingling. "That may get
uncomfortable," Pidge cautioned. "Let me know if it's too
much." Scully gritted her teeth, only nodding in answer.
     As the sensation intensified, penetrating deep into her
chest, Scully groaned in pain and tilted her head back. She
squeezed Pidge's hand tightly, and Mulder got up from his
chair to crouch next to the couch, concerned. Pidge's eyes
opened slightly, and she held Scully's hand up for him. Mulder
took it in his own, freeing Pidge's hand to touch Scully's
forehead, easing her discomfort.
     After several minutes, Pidge sagged in fatigue. The
energy dissipated through Scully's chest, the itching
sensation vanished, and she opened her eyes.
     "Scully? You okay?" Mulder asked, still holding her hand.
     "Yeah, Mulder. I feel fine." She gave his hand a final
squeeze and let go, sitting up. Pidge scooted aside so Scully
could swing her legs over the edge of the couch, then leaned
back and closed her eyes with a long sigh.
     "Pidge?" Scully asked, concerned.
     "Hmm? Oh, I'm fine." She smiled, tired, and patted
Scully's leg, then took a deep breath and let it out in a
whoosh. "Ah. It feels good to work again. I've been used to
healing several times a week for the last few years. I
actually missed it."
     Scully stood up and took a deep breath, feeling a subtle
difference in her body: here, a little stiffness gone; there,
a small pain that was no more. She wondered if it was all
psychosomatic, but she suspected that it wasn't.
     Pidge stretched her legs out, raising her hands over her
head. "You're next," she said to Mulder.
     "Don't you want to rest?" he asked.
     "No. That was just a tweak and a nudge. Besides, I'll
probably want to do..., want to heal you in a couple of
sessions. You've really had the crap kicked out of you.
Several times. Want to start with that gunshot wound?"
     Since he'd been shot in the upper leg, he was willing to
postpone that until Scully left. "No, that's okay." Scully
smiled, catching Pidge's poke at Mulder, but she refrained
from saying anything.
     Pidge shrugged. "Spoilsport. Well, you know the routine.
Lie down." Mulder did, and Pidge took hold of his hand,
touched his face. Her power poured into him, and he twitched
involuntarily. "Mulder," she complained. "Sorry," he said.
     "All right," she said mostly to herself, "let's start at
the top and work our way down." Warmth, and something he could
only describe later as light, even though he couldn't see it,
swirled about his spine, rushing up into his skull. An intense
tingling filled his head. He gritted his teeth. After a few
seconds he was surprised to feel Scully stroke his hair,
something she did only when she was very concerned about him.
He thought about how much she meant to him, how much he needed
her support, how much he needed _her_. He tried to relax a
little, so she wouldn't worry so much.
     Pidge reacted to it. "Oh! Yeah, there we go. Don't know
what you just did Mulder, but that's perfect." She was silent
for several seconds. "You know, if you're gonna get hit in the
head so often, maybe you ought to wear a helmet."
     The heat and itching sensation moved down into his chest,
and he groaned. Scully put her hand on his shoulder. "Pidge?
Is everything all right?" Scully asked.
     "Shh! Mulder! Don't be such a baby. He's fine, Dana."
Pidge concentrated and the sensation spread out, covering more
area, but feeling less intense. It ran down first one arm,
then the other, then slid lower in his chest. After a few more
minutes, it faded altogether and Pidge sagged. "That's it for
now. You were working toward a bone spur on your right elbow.
You might want to have it checked in a few years; it might
recur." She shivered and grabbed the small blanket off of the
back of the couch.
     "You look scared," Scully said gently.
     Pidge let Mulder sit up, then snuggled back into the
corner of the couch. "No, I'm just integrating what I picked
up from the two of you. You've both been in, in dark places. I
don't know how else to put it. It always takes me a while to
sort through the impressions and glimpses of memory I get."
     "Are you telepathic?" Mulder asked.
     Pidge laughed. "Oh, brother. It's strictly a phenomenon
of being connected to someone else's nervous system. There's
nothing supernatural about it."
     "I'd call being connected to someone else's nervous
system supernatural," Mulder replied.
     "I wouldn't," Pidge said. "I'm not exactly sure how it
works, but it isn't miraculous, or demonic, or esoteric. It's
just unusual."
     "She's as bad as you, Scully," he said.
     "Thanks," both women replied simultaneously, then looked
at each other in amusement.
     Later in the evening, after Scully had gone home, Pidge
asked Mulder, "Do you want me to finish what I started with
healing you?"
     "Okay," he said, "but I think you're just trying to get
me out of my pants."
     "Been there, done that," she said with a derisive snort.
     "Ouch," he replied, but he couldn't help laughing. "Do
you really want me to take them off?"
     "Yeah," she said, sitting down. Mulder pulled off his
jeans and sat next to her on the couch. Pidge placed her hand
on the small puncture wound caused by the dart, examining it
for a moment. "That seems fine." Then she slid her hand over
the scar from his near-fatal gunshot wound, and put her other
hand in his.
     Mulder tried not to fight the painful sensation that
burned into his thigh, muscles and bone alike. He heard
himself groan. "Almost got it, Mulder," Pidge said. "Just a
little more." The burning tapered off to an itch, and then a
tingle, and then vanished. He took a deep breath as he could
feel her power sweep through the lower half of body, healing
other old injuries. After a few more minutes, she sat back,
releasing his hand.
     Mulder stretched out his leg and probed the scar of the
gunshot wound with his fingertips. The muscle underneath felt
changed, as if most of the scar tissue had been replaced with
normal muscle. "Thanks, Pidge. I can feel the difference."
     She nodded, looking distracted. "I'll probably regret
asking this, but what exactly do you and Scully do, Mulder?
You both had something really strange in your bodies.
Something different for each of you, but odd, alien."
     "Non-terrestrial," he suggested.
     "No, I didn't mean like that," she began, then halted.
"Wait. You mean that?" He nodded. "Oh, I _am_ sorry I asked,"
she said.
     "Don't worry. It's okay if you don't believe," he said.
     "Now I see why they call you Spooky." She shook her head
in amazement.
     Mulder smiled at her. "Thanks. For me and for Scully. Get
some sleep."
     "Okay. Goodnight, Mulder. Pleasant dreams."
                               
                          **********
                               
     By September 2nd, Pidge was ready to leave for the west
coast. She hadn't decided exactly where to try to start over,
but beginning in an area with a high population and a lot of
tourists seemed a good idea. Mulder and Scully took her to the
train boarding gates at Union Station in DC.
     "I'll try to write," Pidge said, putting her large
backpack down.
     "Be careful," Scully warned.
     "Always," Pidge replied, giving her a hug. "Thanks,
Dana," she whispered in Scully's ear. "I love you." Scully
hugged her back and kissed her on the cheek. "Good-bye, Pidge.
I love you, too."
     Pidge embraced Mulder next, a little shy. "I love you,
Mulder."
     "Thanks, Pidge," he said quietly, kissing the top of her
head. "Good luck."
     "I'd rather the two of you not stay until I get on the
train," she stammered. "I don't think I could bear it."
     Mulder touched her face lightly. "I understand. Good-
bye." Scully hugged Pidge once more before the two of them
walked away from the train platform and back to the parking
garage. They were silent until they got in the car. Mulder put
the key in the ignition, but didn't start the engine.
     "What is it?" Scully asked.
     Mulder shook his head, with a slight grin. "Is it my
imagination, or is Pidge taller than she was a couple of weeks
ago?"
     Scully thought about it for a moment. "You might be
right. Come on, we've got work to do."
                               
                          **********
                               
Monday, February 26, 1996. FBI Headquarters, Washington, DC.

     "Hey, Mulder, are you expecting a package?" Scully asked.
She walked into the X-Files office with her arms full of mail,
including a bulky brown envelope that was about ten inches by
fifteen inches and a good two inches thick.
     Mulder relieved her of most of the mail so she wouldn't
drop it. "No," he replied, examining the stack. "Who's it
from?" he asked.
     Scully shook her head as she hung up her coat. She
answered, "There's no return address."
     "Must be my secret admirer," he joked. Curiosity piqued,
Mulder popped the staples along one edge of the package and
pulled out a sheet of paper. He started reading, then looked
at Scully with a smile. "It's from Pidge." He handed the paper
to his partner and read over her shoulder.
     
     Dear Spooky and Scully,
          
          Fugitive, by Indigo Girls
          
          I'm harboring a fugitive,
          Defector of a kind.
          She lives in my soul,
          Drinks of my wine,
          And I'd give my last breath to keep us alive.
          Are they coming for us,
          With cameras or guns?
          We don't know which,
          But we gotta run.
          You say, "This is not what I bargained for."
          
          So hide yourself, for me.
          I will hide myself, for you.
          All for you.
          ...
          I stood without clothes
          And danced in the sand.
          I was aching with freedom
          And kissing the damned.
          And I said, "Remember this is how it should be."
          
     Mulder looked at Scully. "Who are the Indigo Girls?"
     "They're a folk/rock band. This is part of a song off the
_Swamp Ophelia_ album," Scully explained. They continued
reading the letter.
     
          Happy belated Valentine's Day! I can't tell you
     anything significant about my life, of course, in case
     this package is intercepted. But don't worry about it
     being traced. It's been mailed from friend to friend to
     friend all over the country via people I don't even know.
     (I'm getting good at this spy-vs.-spy stuff. It's kind of
     scary!)
          I _can_ tell you that I'm healthy, sane and free. I
     owe all of that to you both. Please accept this small
     token of my appreciation and love. I'll be in touch again
     when and as I can.
          
     P.S.: Guess what, Mulder? You were right. Sometimes the
     good guys _do_ win. You two get out there, kick ass, and
     take names!
     
     Scully turned the note over, but the back was blank. It
was neither signed nor dated.
     Mulder pulled an inner padded envelope out of the
original package and opened it. There was a five by seven inch
acrylic painting of the two of them on the couch in Mulder's
apartment. They both recognized it immediately from the pencil
sketch Pidge had done months before. Scully smiled broadly at
the serious expressions each of their faces wore in the
painting: earnest, focused as they conferred on some small
point.
     The small handwritten title on the back of the painting
said, "Miracle Workers."
                               
                          **********
                               
     Author's notes: My gracious thanks to my proofreaders,
especially for their medical insights. My thanks also to the
Indigo Girls, who are always a source of inspiration: a+e=ig!
And Melissa Etheridge (what a babe)!
     The following songs were quoted without permission:
     "Yes I Am", by Melissa Etheridge, c 1993 MLE Music Admin.
Almo Music Corp. (ASCAP)
     "Fugitive", by Amy Ray, c 1994 EMI Virgin Songs, Inc. and
Godhap Musid (BMI)
     Go buy these albums!

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Laura Cooksey     -     lcooksey@mindspring.com
"Gotta tend the earth if you want a rose."
    Indigo Girls        a+e=ig
ftp://ftp.mindspring.com/pub/lcooksey/home.html
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