From: hkmason@netscape.net
Date: Thu, 16 Sep 1999 15:14:47 GMT
Subject: New: Necessary Evils II 09/16 by H. Mason

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Chapter Nine
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The small living room seemed even more oppressive in the silence that
followed Mulder's departure.  Scully buried the toe of her shoe in the
thick blue carpet as she tried to think of something to say to Marion,
who was still studying the photograph of Samantha with sad eyes.  But
at that point the cat appeared at her feet, purring loudly into the
quiet of the room and rubbing himself against her leg.

"Olivier, non!" protested Marion, reaching for him.  Scully smiled and
bent down to scratch the cat between his soft, gray ears.

"It's okay," she said, and the cat closed his eyes in ecstasy, leaning
hard into her hand.  "Aren't you a handsome boy," Scully murmured.  He
purred his agreement.

"Lucie found him on the streets a few years ago," Marion said after a
minute.  "That's how we met."  Scully looked up questioningly.  "I'm a
veterinarian," the woman explained.  "Lucie brought him to me because
he had a broken paw and a cut on his face."  She smiled down at the cat
fondly.  "He was so thin when she found him, Lucie called him
Oliver...for that orphan boy in the book, you know?"

"Oliver Twist."

"Yes, that's the one.  But then he got fat as a hog."

Fat and sassy, thought Scully as she watched him preen under her
touch.  She gave him a last scratch and rose to face Marion.  "He's a
very sweet cat," she said with a smile.  "I can see why Lucie took to
him."

Marion nodded and was quiet for a long time.  Then she licked her lips
and said, "Your friend, he misses his sister very much."

"Yes, and he wants to know what happened to her."

"I can understand this," Marion sighed, glancing at the picture again.
She handed it back to Scully.  "But she is not Lucie."

Scully looked at her sharply.  "What makes you so sure?"

"The face is similar, but not exactly the same," Marion answered,
gesturing at the photo.  "Lucie's eyes are a little father apart, and
her forehead is...how do you say?  More broad."

"People change as they age," Scully pointed out gently.  Marion shook
her head, cutting her off.

"No, it's not her.  The ears are different, too.  Whatever happened to
this little girl, she did not become Lucie."

Scully looked at the picture again and decided maybe Marion was right,
there were some slight but significant differences.  A new idea began
to form in her mind, and she asked, "How much do you know about Lucie's
past?"

"I know the parts she told you, but not much more.  Lucie doesn't like
to talk about what happened when she was young."  Marion moved to sit
on the couch, and Scully followed.  "Her mother got pregnant by an
American man she met in a bar.  I don't think he ever knew about the
baby."

"Lucie's father was American?"

"Mmm-hmm, yes.  He was a researcher or some such thing.  Her mother
never saw him again after that weekend."  Oliver jumped up on the couch
and began kneading his mistresses lap.  She stroked him absently as
they talked.  "Lucie's mother had many problems, and I think Lucie
always felt like she was one of them.  It's so sad that she died before
they could make peace with one another."

"Did she ever try to find her father?"

Marion shook her head.  "No, but..."

"But what?" Scully pressed gently.  Marion still hesitated, as if
reluctant to disclose further intimacies.

"Lucie has never left Montreal, despite all the bad memories and the
worry that Eddie might come back at any time, or that the police would
find her.  I think it's because of her father that she stayed.  I think
maybe she was hoping he would someday come back."

Scully felt suddenly hopeful.  "Does she have a picture of him?"

"Oh, no."  Marion gave her a sad smile.  "Lucie has always thought that
she would know him in her heart, but I don't know..."

"I do," Scully said quietly.  "That's how Mulder feels about his
sister, that he would recognize her anywhere."

"He feels this way about Lucie?" asked Marion curiously.

Scully nodded.  "Yes, he does."

Marion fell silent, petting Oliver's belly as he lay sprawled across
her lap.  "They are alike in more than looks, then."  She regarded
Scully with serious eyes.  "Perhaps I was wrong, and Lucie is the girl
in the photo.  People do change over time.  Perhaps she is his
sister."  She cocked her head.  "What do you think?"

Scully took a deep breath and a last look at the picture.  "I think,"
she said carefully, "that you're both right."

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

Mulder tracked Lucie through a small woods to the edge of a pond, where
he found her hurling rocks far out into the water.  He stopped about
ten feet away and simply watched how easily she managed each throw.
Samantha had never had an arm like that, but then again she had only
been eight years old.

Finally she turned to face him with a scowl, and for a second he feared
she was going to start throwing at him.  "I am not your sister," she
said.  "Can't you just go away now?"

"I'm afraid not."  He walked a bit closer, still giving her a good
amount of space.  "There is a possibility that you could be in some
danger, Lucie."

She bowed her head.  "It *is* Eddie, isn't it?  I knew it had to be
about him."

"No," Mulder answered, remembering her scar and thinking that if Eddie
ever did try anything again he would personally remove the guy's liver
with a butter knife.  "Who's Eddie?  What happened with him?"

Her eyes scanned the water and she picked up another rock.  "I used to
work for him," she said, skipping the stone three times along the
surface.

"What?"  Mulder thought he might be sick, his stomach clenched so
forcefully.  Lucie felt his horror and mirrored it.

"No, not like that!" she assured him quickly.  "God, no."

"Oh."  He hoped the relief on his face was not too obvious.  He wanted
her to be able to tell him anything, even if it hurt.

"Eddie ran con games.  Street cons mainly, but he was willing to do a
little long-term action if the circumstances were right."  Her lips
twisted into a tight frown.  "Eddie taught me to be able to pick the
easiest mark in any crowd with just a quick look."  She glanced at
Mulder and then away.  "I never realized that was the way he had found
me."

"You were young," Mulder told her.  "It's easy to be fooled then."

"Yeah, well, I guess you could say I was looking for it, in a way.
It's just such a classic shitty story that I'm ashamed to admit it even
happened to me--little girl lost and all that crap."  She kicked the
dirt at her feet.  "I thought I was so tough, hanging with Eddie and
his boys, working the streets...the dupes didn't matter to me then.
They had plenty of money and if they were stupid enough to take on
Three Card Monte, then they got exactly what they deserved."

She stopped suddenly, and Mulder walked a little closer, joining her at
the water's edge.  "What happened then?" he asked softly.

"It escalated.  Soon we were running pigeon drops.   The money was
great, but I started feeling a little funny about the whole thing.  We
weren't just taking people for twenty bucks anymore; sometimes we wiped
out their whole savings."  She glanced over at him.  "Are you going to
arrest me after this?" she asked abruptly.

"No, Lucie, of course not.  I told you that's not why I'm here."

"Yeah, well you wouldn't be the first liar I'd ever met."

He regarded her silently for a long moment, wanting to tell her so many
things.  I would never lie to you.  I understand it's hard to trust
people when you've been burned in the past.  It's okay to screw up
sometimes...it doesn't mean you aren't still a good person.  "I'm not
going to arrest you," he repeated gently.  "What happened with Eddie?"

She gave a casual shrug that he recognized too well.  It was the same
one he used to cover up the deepest hurts.  "I told him I wanted out.
He didn't exactly take the news with a smile, if you get my meaning."

Mulder swallowed hard and kept his eyes trained on the water as he
asked, "Is that when he cut you?"

"No, he just smacked me around some then.  He told me that I was in
just as deep as he was, and if I didn't stick with the group, either
the cops would get me or the streets would eat me alive.  He said he
was wanted back in the States for running rackets there, and that he
had even killed someone."  She paused, her voice becoming smaller with
the memory.  "He convinced me I would be accountable for everything
he'd ever done.  So I stayed."

Mulder closed his eyes against the painful words.  "How did you get
out?" he asked finally.

She breathed a shaky sigh.  "We were doing a drop on this Indian guy.
I was working as the drag bond--the one who flashed the Mich roll for
the mark."  He looked at her questioningly and she half-smiled.  "The
money roll," she explained.  "With hundreds on the outside and ones in
the middle."

His lips twitched in response.  "I didn't realize there was an official
name for it."

"Every self-respecting business has its jargon," she remarked dryly.
Then she continued, "Anyway, this time the mark made us half-way
through the con and didn't want to give up his money.  Usually that
just ended the deal, and we moved on to someone else.  But with this
guy, Eddie just wouldn't take no for an answer.  He went into a
screaming rage and ended up doing the guy right on the spot."  She
shrugged again.  "He had to leave town after that, and I told him I
wasn't going with him."

"I guess that didn't go over so well."

"You got that right," she replied bitterly.  She shook her head in self-
disgust.  "I never even saw the knife coming."

"Is that when you kicked him in the balls?" Mulder asked, imagining the
scene with some satisfaction.

"And hard."  She held up one foot encased in leather combat boots.
"Believe me when I say that Eddie will always remember this baby."

Mulder grinned with a sudden surge of brotherly pride and noted
somewhere in the back of his brain that she was going to get along well
with Scully.  No shrinking violet women in his life, nosiree.  "Eddie's
probably doing time somewhere by now," he told Lucie.  "If he's not,
you can be sure that he will be soon."

Lucie's eyes widened.  "Oh, no.  Please don't, okay?  I just don't want
any more trouble."

Mulder was quiet, not sure he could promise her that he wouldn't go
after the animal who had hurt her.  She shifted from one foot to the
other, regarding him with watchful eyes.  He wondered what she was
thinking.  Finally, he nodded.  "I won't do anything you don't want me
to, okay?"

But this assurance did not seem to make her happy.  Quite the
opposite.  Her mouth tightened with pain and she turned away.  "I'm not
your sister," she said again.  "By now you should be glad about that."

He was silent for a long time.  "There is an easy way to know," he said
after a few minutes.  She did not turn around.  "Samantha has a birth
mark on her right hip," he continued with effort.  "It's about the size
and color of a strawberry."

Lucie stiffened a moment, then her shoulders sagged.  He waited.  "I
don't have the mark," she whispered at last.  "I'm not her."

The words wrapped like coils around his chest, making it hard to
breathe.  He blinked away sudden tears.  Not again.  "Are you...are you
absolutely sure?"

She nodded.  Then she turned to face him.  "I'm sorry," she blurted,
and clasped her hand over her mouth.  They looked at each other through
a haze of tears.  He shuddered and scrubbed his face with his hands.

Of course it had been too much to hope for.  He should have known that
from the beginning.  "I'm sorry, too," he managed, and was about to
turn away when she stopped him.

"Wait..."

He faced her again.  "What is it?"

"Your hands," she murmured, reaching for them.  He gave them over
willingly.  She turned them once over and then held his right palm up
and placed hers against it.  "They're just like mine."

They were, Mulder noted with some amazement.  Almost exactly the same.
What the heck was going on?

Lucie drew a shaky inhale and pulled her hand away.  "Your father," she
said softly.  "Was he a researcher of some kind?  Someone who was here
on business in the summer of 1972?"

Holy shit.  He started to tremble.  "Yes, he was away a lot during that
year.  Do you think...?"

"I don't know," she replied, hugging her middle.  "It might be."
Unconsciously, they both took a step back.

Mulder cleared his throat.  "We should probably get that blood test,"
he said in a voice he barely recognized as his own.  This time, Lucie
nodded dumbly, still in shock.

"I can't believe it," she whispered.  "I wondered sometimes if he might
have a family somewhere else, but I never really thought...wow."

He barely heard her above the buzzing in his head.  Not Samantha.
Lucie.  He wondered if his father had known that as he was sacrificing
one daughter another was just coming into the world.  Just how many
other fucking secrets did you have, Bill? he thought sarcastically.
We're two for two on the day.

Lucie eyed him with a mixture of interest and trepidation.  "We should
go back to the house," she said at last.  "They're probably wondering
where we are."

"Yeah."  He stood rooted to the ground despite his agreement.  When she
moved to pass him, he grabbed her hand--the one that was so like his
own.

"What?" she asked with a sharp inhale.  His fingers bit into her wrist.

"I want you to know," he said brokenly, "that I would have looked for
you. If I had known you were out there, I would have looked for you,
too."

She broke away with a choked sob and ran toward the house.  He followed
close behind, determined never to lose her again.

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

After an hour of sitting in his car and watching the hotel, Skinner
decided to risk going inside.  Every second lost decreased his
probability of success.  They would find him soon, if they had not
figured out his ruse already.

He could almost feel the eyes on him as he walked through the front
doors of the Plaza de Montreal.  A few minutes later, a youthful desk
clerk with a mane of frizzy curls told him politely that Mr. and Mrs.
Brown had checked out earlier that morning.

He swallowed a curse and considered this unfortunate development.
Where the hell had they gone to?  He decided to check his messages back
in D.C., though he couldn't imagine they would be careless enough to
leave their whereabouts.  If this move did not produce results,
however, he was going to have to risk calling Mulder on the very
traceable cell phone.

Which just might prove to be the death summons for them all.

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

Back at the house, Lucie disappeared upstairs the minute she walked in
the door.  Marion tried to go after her, but Mulder stopped her with a
gentle hand.  "Give her a couple of minutes," he suggested quietly.
"It's been a long morning."

Marion held his eyes for a minute and then nodded.  "Would you like
something to eat or drink?" she asked.  "I can make sandwiches."

Mulder smiled in relief.  "That would be wonderful, thank you."

"Mulder, what happened out there?" asked Scully when she had gone.  "Is
everything okay?"

He squeezed her hands.  "I hardly know where to begin, Scully.  It's
just so incredible."

"Mulder, about Lucie..."

"She's not Samantha," he cut in.  "I know."

Scully drew back in surprise.  "You figured it out, too?"

"Yeah, we pieced it together outside.  We're both still reeling pretty
hard."  He walked on rubbery legs over to the couch and sat down with a
plop.  Scully joined him.

"Did you ask her about the photograph?" she asked.

"No, not yet.  I don't want to spring everything right at once.  I'll
ask her when she comes back down."  Then he looked over at her.
"Scully..."

"Hmmm?"

He kept his voice to a low whisper.  "With everything that has been
going on, we haven't had a chance to talk about last night."

"It's okay," she assured him quickly, her color deepening just a bit.
He reached for her hand.

"I just want you to know that it meant a lot to me...that *you* mean a
lot to me."

She gave his hand a hard squeeze.  "Me, too," she whispered back.  They
shared a smile.  "It's really all right, Mulder," she said.  "I
understand that Lucie and the notebooks have to come first right now.
The fate of the free world is clearly more important than our personal
relationship."

"Yes."  He flashed her a quick grin and leaned across the cushions.
"But just barely."  He kissed her lightly on the mouth, pleased when
she answered it.

They were once again behaving themselves on opposite ends of the sofa
when Lucie returned carrying three plastic bowls.  She set them down on
the coffee table in front of Mulder and then knelt behind them.  Her
expression was unreadable.  "The Shell Game," she said.  "Just like
Three Card Monte.  Ten gets you twenty and twenty gets you forty.  Just
keep your eye on the ball."  She slipped a little red ball under one of
the over-turned bowls.  "Who wants to play?"

Mulder looked at her with amusement.  "I heard it from a good source
that this game's only for suckers."

Lucie's mouth twitched also.  "Depends on which side you're playing,"
she replied tartly.  "Are you in or not?"

"I'll play," Scully said, holding up a crisp ten.

Lucie nodded and again displayed the red ball.  Then she mixed up the
bowls on the table.  "Which one?"

Scully leaned over, considering.  "That one," she said, pointing to the
far right.  Lucie turned it over, and it was empty.  Mulder laughed.

"Never knew you were such an easy touch, Scully."

She made a face at him and Lucie smiled.  "Try again," she encouraged
Scully.  Scully pointed at the one in the middle.

Nothing.

Mulder chuckled once more, and Scully rolled her eyes and smiled,
pointing at the last one.  Lucie raised the bowl to reveal half a
photograph.  It was of a white brick building with the letters "LIBERTE
LABORAT" on the side.

*****************************
End chapter nine.  Continued in chapter ten.
hkmason@netscape.net



~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Chapter Ten
~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"I thought you said you didn't tell her," Scully muttered.  Mulder
frowned at Lucie.

"I didn't," he replied, snatching up the partial photograph.

"Tell me what?" Lucie demanded, looking from one to the other.

Mulder ignored the question.  "Where did you get this?" he asked
instead, arching his hips from the couch so that he could access his
back pocket.  He pulled out his half of the picture, and it was indeed
a perfect match.  "Well?" he pressed when Lucie did not immediately
answer.  She sighed.

"There was this glass ball my mother had, one of those stupid souvenir
things that you by on the street with a scene from Montreal inside the
ball.  If you shook it, snow came down."

"What does this have to do with the picture?" Mulder asked impatiently.

Lucie looked annoyed.  "I'm getting to that part."  She got off the
floor and moved to sit in the over-stuffed arm chair again.  "She said
the ball was from my father, that he bought it for her the night they
were together.  It sat on the top of her bureau and she never let me
touch it."  She sighed again.  "But after she died, I kind of threw it
against the wall."

"Kind of?"

"Okay, *really* threw it against the wall.  And it broke."

"This was inside?" Mulder guessed immediately, glancing at the
picture.  Lucie nodded.

"It had been folded up and hidden in the bottom part.  I didn't know
what it was or who put it there, but I kept it anyway."  She looked
over to where he was holding the two pieces of the photo together.  "I
guess now it's a good thing that I did.  Whoat does it mean?"

Scully leaned over Mulder's shoulder to study the back of the two
halves, which formed a crude map that seemed to depict an area along
the St. Lawrence River.  "It must be north of here," she said.

Mulder bent his head closer to hers and nodded. "Yeah, and this looks
like a mountain of some sort."

"What is the map for?" Lucie asked leaning forward in her seat
impatiently.

Still they ignored her.  "Now that we have the name of the center,"
Scully said, "it might be easier to track it down.  Even if they aren't
listed in the phone book, the power companies should be able to provide
us with at least a billing address."

"Good idea," Mulder returned absently, studying the photograph.  "I'll
ask the Gunmen about it as well.  What do you think this line over here
means?"  They were so involved in their discussion that they did not
notice when Lucie gave a disgusted sigh and left the room.  She
returned moments later with a map, which she tossed face up on the
table in front of them.

"It's right there," she annouced flatly, pointing to a black X on the
map.  "It's on the north side of Mount Logan, inside Parc Gaspesie.  As
far as I could tell, it's only accessible on foot or by
helicopter...about a day's hike from the main trail."

Mulder and Scully glanced at each other and then up at Lucie.  "You've
been there?" he asked quickly.

She nodded, folding her arms over her chest and looking from one to the
other with a hard stare.  "So who's the guy in the picture?"  Her face
faltered a bit and she added, "Is it him?  Is it my father?"

Scully turned her eyes to her lap, and Mulder shook his head slowly.
"No, Lucie, it's not."

"Oh."  She moved to sit down on the edge of the chair, rubbing her
hands over her thighs nervously.  "Then who is it?"

Mulder explained a little bit about Leonid Petrov and the possible
existence of the notebooks.  "Do you think that you could find the lab
again?" he asked when he had finished.

She shrugged.  "Sure.  After the three years it took me to find the
place, it's not like I'm going to forget where it is."

Marion entered with a tray of sandwiches and a pitcher of lemonade.
She had apparently been listening from the kitchen because lines of
worry creased her forehead.  "The men who want this photograph," she
said to Mulder, "are they responsible for the marks on your face?"

He touched his swollen cheek self-consciously, aware that he must have
a sizable bruise from his earlier encounter with Krycek.  "Yeah," he
murmured, and her mouth thinned to a grim line.

"Lucie, you can't go with them."  She reached out and took her hand.
"It's too dangerous."

"I have to go," Lucie protested.  "I'm the only one who knows where it
is."

Mulder felt his stomach twist.  It was true that Lucie's guidance would
be a valuable asset in navigating the forest, but he did not want to
put her in any more danger than she already was.  "Maybe you could just
draw us a better map," he suggested quietly.  Beside him, Scully went
very still, and he knew she sensed what he was thinking.  Frankly, if
it were up to him, he would keep both women somewhere safe, but he
could just picture Scully's response to that idea.

Lucie herself was doing a fair approximation of that rebuttal, standing
over him with her hands on her hips.  "I know the route much better by
sight.  Besides, how can you expect me to just stay home after
everything you've told me?"

Scully rose from the couch.  "Do you know how to fire a gun?" she asked.

Lucie looked her up and down before replying.  "Better than you, I'm
sure."  Scully crossed her arms, and he made a mental note to be
somewhere *far* away if they ever decided to settle that particular
question.

"Okay, you can come," he said shortly, rising as well.  He pinned her
with a long look.  "But you do everything I tell you to, understand?"

Lucie's chin stuck out in direct objection to the order--out of habit,
he supposed.  But at last she nodded reluctantly.  "I'll try."

"Lucie..."

"Okay, okay!  Yes, already!"

At that point Marion got up and left the room.  Immediately, Lucie's
face lost its defiant glare, fading into regret and concern.  "Attend,
Mari..."  She looked at Mulder and Scully "Excuse me one minute," she
murmured, seeming flustered.  Then she hurried off in the direction
Marion had taken.

"Well," said Scully after she had gone, "she certainly inherited your
audacity."

Mulder looked at her sharply, then saw that the edges of her mouth
twitched in a near smile.  He grinned.  "Yeah, she's something else."

"Mmm."  She cocked an eyebrow.  "You think I'll ever see that ten
dollars again?"

He chuckled softly.  "I don't know...care to bet on it?"

"I only make one sucker bet a day, thank you very much."  She glanced
at the photo and the map that had been abandoned on the coffee table.
"Mount Logan is at least a six hour drive from here," she commented.

He joined her by the table and nodded.  "Yeah, we should get going
pretty soon if we're going to make any progress into the forest before
nightfall."

"Maybe we should..." Scully began, but was interrupted by the soft
beeping of his cell phone coming from his jacket on the couch.  He
looked at Scully, and then they both looked at the phone.  He moved
without a word to answer it.

"Hello?"

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

Diana had been sitting in the rented Dodge in back of the Plaza de
Montreal for nearly five hours when the idea finally came to her.  It
was a risky move, but the payoff could be enormous.  Besides which, it
would be worth it just to get off her ass and finally do something more
than sit in the goddamn car watching the back of the hotel.  Maybe it
was good enough for Smokey, but she had bigger aspirations.

Skinner, bless his bald self, had led them straight to the hotel where
they all three now sat in various vehicles awaiting the appearance of
Mulder and Scully.  What a crock.

Anyone with two neurons to rub together could see by now that they
weren't going to show.  So she decided to let the boys play on their
own for a while.  She was going proactive.

Removing the slim cell phone from her jacket, she hit "memory six", not
stopping to examine very closely why she still kept his number on
automatic dial.  He answered after the fourth ring.

"Hello?"

"Fox," she said, smiling in the privacy of her car.  "I'm so glad I
caught you."

There was a short silence on the other end.  "What do you want, Diana?"

"I'm in Montreal," she replied.  "When I couldn't reach you at home or
at the office, I thought maybe you had decided to come up and
investigate the lead we talked about."

Another silence.  Then, "As a matter of fact, I did.  I'm here as well."

She noticed he did not mention that Scully was with him.  Interesting.
"And?" she pressed.  "Did you find anything?"

"Nothing I can talk about over the phone," he replied neutrally, and
her pulse quickened.  He had the map.  Holy shit, this was going to be
better than she originally planned.

"Maybe we could meet," she suggested quickly, then winced.  A little
too quickly.  But he seemed not to notice.

"I don't know...I'm pressed for time."

She thought fast.  "But there's something I want to show you.  I have
some pictures that you will be interested to see...some of them are of
your father and Leonid Petrov."  There.  If *that* didn't get his
attention, nothing would.

"Where are you exactly?" he asked after a minute.

"Where are you?" she countered, nearly breathless with anticipation.
He gave a short, humorless laugh.

"Uh-uh.  I don't play this game anymore."

She barely held back a sigh.  Never the trusting sort, he had become
even less so over the years.  She wondered how much she had had to do
with that transformation.  "Okay, let's meet in town."

"Where?"

She named a park not too far away.  There would be enough trees there
for cover, should she need it.

"I know where that is," he answered.  "I'll be there."

The phone went dead and she leaned her head back against the seat.
Years ago, when he had lain panting in her bed after a round of
particularly energetic sex, he had looked at her in the moonlight with
eyes wet and soft from their lovemaking.  "I would do anything for you,
you know," he had murmured to her then.  "I would give you the world."

She smiled a bit, remembering.

He was about to make good on that promise.

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

Scully watched his face closely as he hung up the phone, but she could
not find any indication of what he was thinking.  In fact, he seemed
suddenly far away from her, in an inexplicable way that made her feel
very uneasy.  "What did she want?"

"To meet with me about my father and Leonid Petrov."

She hesitated.  "Are you sure that's a good idea, given her possible
connection to what's been going on?"  When he was silent, she tried
again.  "What is she doing here in Montreal, Mulder?  Don't you think
that is just a little bit odd?"

"She was coming here originally," he answered absently, seeming lost in
thought.  "Before I ever found the picture."  He shook his head as if
to clear it.  "I have to go talk to her."

"Mulder, no."  She was not sure why she could be so certain, but
nevertheless she knew in her bones that this was a bad idea.  "It could
be a trap."

Again, he gave her an inscrutable look.  "Diana would never do that to
me."  He picked up his jacket and began moving toward the door.

"She left you, Mulder," Scully blurted out.  He turned abruptly to face
her.  "She left you and the X-files a long time ago," she told him more
softly.  "You don't know *who* she's with now."

His mouth tightened in a thin line.  "I'll be back in an hour," he
said.  "You and Lucie can get everything ready."

"Mulder..." she pleaded again, panic rising as she realized he was
serious about the meeting.  "At least let me go with you."

"No.  I'll be fine, Scully.  Just stay here with Lucie."  And he left
then, before she could give him further argument.  The sound of the
door slamming echoed in her ears for a long time afterward.

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

In the car on the way to the park, he offered a silent apology to
Scully for shutting her out.  This little escapade rated at least an
eight on the ditch meter, but he soothed himself with the knowledge
that he had no other option.

There was no way could have let her come.  After all, she had stopped
him from killing Krycek that morning.

He was not about to make the same mistake with Diana.

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

Mulder had been gone less than five minutes when his phone rang again.
Scully startled at the sound, and picked up the slim black case from
where it had fallen between the couch cushions.  She answered it half-
hoping it would be Diana.  There were a few choice things she wanted to
say to the woman.

"Hello?" she said briskly.

Silence on the other end.  Then a man's voice, low and gruff.  "Scully?"

"Yes," she replied tentatively. "Who is this?"

"It's Skinner."

"We've been trying to reach you for days," she breathed, taking a seat
on the edge of the couch.  "Mulder was worried."

"Where is he?"

"He's not here.  He's with Diana."  The long silence that followed made
her stomach turn over.  "Sir?  Is there something you know about her?"

"Not now," he answered brusquely.  "It's too dangerous.  Where are you?"

After a moment's hesitation, she told him.  "Mulder should be back
soon," she added.

"It's you I've come to see," he replied cryptically, and then the line
went dead.

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

He was not surprised to see the car start up across the parking lot,
since he had suspected the phone call might mean he was soon to be on
the move.  From the angle, he guessed that Diana could not see that
Skinner was driving away.

How absolutely perfect, he thought with a small smile as he followed
the Assistant Director onto the main road.  The cigarette dangled
loosely from his lips.

People always said that in heaven it was the meek and the virtuous who
were rewarded, but fortunately in his experience, life on earth worked
exactly the opposite.

*****************************
End chapter ten.  Continued in chpater eleven.
hkmason@netscape.net


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Chapter Eleven
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He was standing in some thick bushes when she finally arrived.  Dimly,
he remembered that she was often late.  "I'll be late to my own
funeral" she had said to him once, though at the time he had never
dreamed he would be the one responsible for the event.  Now he found
himself anticipating it with great relish.

She walked slowly into the park, looking about for him as she went.  He
noticed her hand was not far from her own weapon.  Swallowing hard, he
squeezed his eyes shut, surprised that her betrayal still had the power
to wound him.  But it was one thing to accept it mentally, it was
another thing entirely to see the proof of it with his own eyes.

He raised his gun as she walked past.  The barrel slid out between
leafy green branches to press close against her temple.  "Hello, Diana."

She froze.

Her nostrils quivered; she licked her lips.  "Fox...what are you doing?"

"The question is, what the fuck have you been doing?" he asked with
barely-contained rage.  "All these years, I've been kicking myself for
how it ended between us, thinking that I had done something
wrong...that I didn't even *deserve* you, dammit!  And all this
time...all this time, you were just a goddamn spy."  The gun barrel
trembled under the force of his anger.  "Just another whore in the
Consortium stable, that's what you were."

"If that is what you need to tell yourself, Fox, I'm okay with it," she
said calmly.  "But the truth is more complicated."

"Oh, don't bother me with your truth!" he snapped.  "I know everything
I need to know already."  He pressed the gun harder against her
temple.  "Give me your weapon."

She smirked. "We used to play that sometimes, remember?  Good cop/bad
cop..."

He remembered and was nearly sick.  Perhaps it should have been a tip
off, how often she wanted to be the one in control.  "Just give me your
gun," he ordered icily.  She did as he asked.

"How did you know?" she queried after a moment.

"I didn't."  The words were tight and angry.  "Scully made you from the
first moment, but I was your dupe right up 'til the very end, when you
tipped your hand with Leonid Petrov.  Sloppy, Diana.  Very sloppy."

"Ah, yes, Dana Scully," she said with a sigh.  Her eyes moved to glance
sideways at him.  "It's kind of fitting, in a way, since I was the one
who selected her."

"What the fuck are you talking about?"  He pushed through the pushes,
lowering the gun to her chest.  "What do you mean you 'selected' her?"

Diana shrugged.  "As your partner, of course.  There were a number of
possible candidates, but I thought she would be the best match."  Her
eyes narrowed slightly.  "It seems that I was right.  Tell me,
Fox...does she like to be tied up, too?"

"Why, you goddamn..."

"Oh, please," she said, cutting him off with disdain.  "You knew what
she was from the start.  You told me so yourself.  I still have the
letter you wrote to me expressing your 'deep concern' that you were
getting a partner who would try to curtail your work."

"Turns out I was a bit too late," he growled.  "And your plans went all
to hell...Scully wouldn't do the work you'd laid out for her."

"I didn't much care," she answered lightly.  "I was busy elsewhere at
that time.  It's only recently that I've had to face the consequences
of my unfortunate selection."

Well, make no mistake about it, he thought bitterly.  You're facing
them now.  "Did you have anything to do with what happened to her?  Did
you steal her memory?"

"No."  Her mouth formed a twisted smile.  "I merely applauded from the
sidelines."

His arm moved without volition, striking her across the face with the
gun handle.  She cried out in pain and clutched her cheek.  "Who,
then?" he breathed harshly, closing in on her.  "Who took the chip?"

She looked at him sullenly.  "I think you know."

Yes.  Deep inside he had always known.  "Spender."

Something like greed flickered in her eyes.  "He's here, too.  Why
settle for me when you can add his scalp to your belt?"

"I'll take you both," Mulder answered shortly.  "Where is he?"  She did
not answer. He grabbed her roughly with his free hand and once again
shoved the gun to her temple. "I said, WHERE THE HELL IS HE?"

She laughed, a short sound laced with hysteria.  "It's too late," she
murmured.  "He's been tailing Skinner."

"Tailing him why?" Again, she did not reply, and Mulder shook her until
her teeth rattled.  "WHY?"

"Because Skinner has the chip!" she managed, huffing in his grasp.  She
glared at him with barely contained contempt.  "And I'll give you one
guess where he's going with it."

Mulder dropped his hands instantly.  "Scully..."

"Too late," Diana said again, and in a flash he was running toward the
car, dragging her roughly behind him.

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

Scully watched out the window as Marion and Lucie readied the backpacks
for them to take into the mountains.  Occasionally she would glance
back at the two young women and marvel at their flawless rhythm as they
navigated around the kitchen without ever bumping into one another.
Whereas Lucie was jittery with nervous excitement, and Marion was just
nervous.  She seemed determined to prove her love in food, loading
Lucie down with bottled water, trail mix and thick turkey sandwiches.

Eventually Lucie chuckled and hugged her lover tightly from behind.
"Ca va, Mari!  Enough.  I can't carry more than 40 kilos."

Scully smiled softly and turned back to the window, thinking how like
Mulder Lucie was--wary with most people, but fiercely loving with those
close to her.  How wonderful it was that they had found each other
after all this time.

Just then, a car rolled slowly up the gravel driveway.  "Stay here,"
she instructed Lucie and Marion.  "I'll be right back."  She pushed
through the screen door and onto the front stoop.  A well-dressed man
got out of the car, looking tense and weary.  He squinted at her from
behind wire-rimmed glasses.

"Scully," he said, his eyes flicking over her once.  "How are you?"

She thought she detected a hint of real concern in his voice.  Perhaps
they had been friends as well as colleagues.  "I'm fine," she replied,
wishing that she had some memory to match with his face.  Some unnamed
force crackled in the air between them, different from what she had
felt with Mulder, but no less charged.

He nodded to the back.  "Let's talk over there.  It's less open."

She appreciated his directness and the economy of his words.  Whatever
he wanted to talk to her about, there would be no bullshit.  They
tramped over the soft grass until they reached the small woods at the
edge of the property.  When Skinner ducked in among the trees, she
glanced over her shoulder and followed.  "What is it?" she asked when
they stopped on a bed of dried pine needles in a small, round clearing.

He looked at her closely through his round lenses.  "Is it true?" he
asked quietly.  "You really remember nothing?"

"Yes," she replied, and had the urge to add "I'm sorry."  She did not
know why.  "The six years are pretty much all gone."

He nodded grimly and stuck his hand in the pocket of his trench coat.
He withdrew what looked like a small glass vial, which he clenched in
his hand.  She waited for him to explain.  "It's the chip," he said at
last, holding the vile up between his thumb and forefinger.

"From my neck?" she breathed, her eyes wide.  His mouth tightened into
a thin, humorless smile.

"Well, maybe," he conceded, looking away.  "If there's such a thing as
truth in advertising."  Then he held out the vial to her, and she
accepted it wordlessly.

"How did you get this?" she asked as she examined the tiny metallic
chip at the bottom.

His mouth twitched in wry, self-deprecating humor.  "Are you familiar
with Faust?"

A deal with the devil, she realized with alarm, regarding the man in
front of her with serious eyes.  "If you're in trouble," she said,
stepping toward him.  "Maybe we can help."

He took a step back and shook his head tightly.  "No, no.  It's too
late now.  You and Mulder need to concentrate on finding the
notebooks."  He looked intently at her face, seeming as if he wanted to
say something further.

"What is it?" she asked softly.

He sighed, closing his eyes.  "If you remember again..." he said at
length, then broke off and shook his head.

"Sir?"

He looked past her, at the line of trees.  "Never mind," he muttered
finally, waving his hand dismissively.  He glanced around them in the
woods.  "It's probably too late anyway."  He raked her one more time
with his gaze and cleared his throat, "I should be going now."

"Wait," she said, and stilled him with a hand on his elbow.  He glanced
down at her with dark, unreadable eyes.  "Thank you," she whispered
after a moment, squeezing his arm.  "Thank you for doing this."

He ducked his head, as if embarrassed by her display of emotion.  "I've
got to go," he repeated gruffly.  She released his arm, and he had
taken two steps before a gunshot whizzed through the trees and hit him
directly in the chest.  He cried out and clutched at the wound,
staggering further away from her.

"Get down!" she yelled as a second one shot echoed through the woods,
tearing rapid fire through the trees and sending bits of leaves
fluttering to the ground.  The third shot hit him again in the torso,
and he collapsed with a groan.  Breathing hard, Scully lay flat on the
pine needles, her eyes moving quickly from the direction of the shots
to the man groaning in pain six feet away from her.

"Hang on, I'm coming!" she called, crawling over to him with gaze still
on the trees.  The shots seemed to have stopped, and she rose on her
knees to assess the damage.  "It's okay," she said automatically, even
though she could see instantly that he had been gravely injured.  She
cradled his head in her lap and tugged open his coat.  Two red blotches
stood out in stark relief against his white shirt.  "Hang on," she
breathed again, pressing her hands over his wounds.  He moaned,
struggling for breath.

Scully glanced wildly around them for a glimpse of the shooter, but
there was no one to be seen.  A second later, Lucie appeared at the
edge of the clearing, carrying a small silver hand gun.  "What the hell
happened?" she demanded.

"Call an ambulance," Scully ordered in reply.  "And stay inside until
it gets here!"  Lucie hesitated a second, then took off through the
trees, and Scully turned her attention to the man bleeding in front of
her. "Take it easy," she murmured as he tried to move under her touch.
"Lie still." Her palm created red prints on his chest, like a child's
finger painting.

"Scully..."

"Shhh," she said.  "Don't try to talk."  She looked up in futile hope
for the ambulance.  He was losing blood fast.

"No..."  He broke off in a painful grimace.  "You were...you were
right."

"Please," she replied.  "We can talk later."

He continued as if he had not heard her.  "There are some choices
that..."  He gasped.  "...some choices you just can't live with."

"Yes, you can," she said determinedly.  "Just hold on a little longer."

His eyes slipped closed for a moment, his breath now a shaky rattle
that caused spurts of blood to ooze beneath her fingers with every
exhale.  "No..." he said, and his eyes opened, black pools that seemed
to look right through her.  "They cannot hold me now..."  He closed his
eyes once more, going limp under her.  Then all was silent.

Scully bowed her head and drew a shaky breath. He was gone.

"Scully!"

Stricken, she looked up at the sound of Mulder calling her name.
"I...I couldn't stop it," she told him helplessly as he ran toward
her.  "Someone started shooting, and there was nothing I could do."

"Scully," he repeated, rushing over to crouch down next to her.  "Are
you okay?  Are you hurt anywhere?"  When she shook her head, he focused
on the man lying unmoving on her lap, his shirt soaked through with
blood.  "My God," he breathed.  "Scully, what happened?"

"There was a shooter," she managed, lifting a red stained hand to point
into the woods.  "Somewhere over there.  I couldn't see..."  At her
words, he took off running into the trees.  "Mulder, no!" she yelled
after him, but he did not stop.  In the distance, the ambulance siren
wailed loudly.

After a moment, Scully gently eased Skinner's head from her lap and
rose unsteadily to her feet, wondering if she should chase after
Mulder.  She looked around for him in the woods.  It was then she
noticed the tall woman with dark hair standing on the edge of the
clearing, looking as if she might bolt at any moment.

Diana, she realized immediately, and their eyes locked from twenty feet
away.  Scully felt a rising tide of anger.  Mulder be damned, she was
doing this her way, now.  "Don't move," she commanded, raising her gun
until it was even with the woman's chest.  "Or I'll kill you."

At that moment, Mulder returned, winded from his run through the
woods.  "He's gone," he announced flatly.  Joining Scully, he held up a
the remains of a freshly-smoked cigarette.  "But the sonofabitch did
leave his personal calling card."  Scully noted that he did not seem
upset to find her holding a gun on his former lover.  Their talk in the
park must have been particularly eventful.

Lucie reappeared at that moment, this time with Marion and the
paramedics.  Marion blanched at the sight of Skinner lying on the
ground.  "Mon Dieu," she whispered, and turned away.  Lucie glanced
from Mulder to Scully.

"What the fuck is going on?"

"Get some rope," he told her in a hard, even voice.  "And then get the
car.  We have to leave immediately."  Lucie was gone in a flash.

"Mulder, we can't leave him," Scully murmured, glancing back to where
the paramedics were examining Skinner.

"We have no choice."  His tone was still cold with rage, but his eyes
flashed with regret.  "We have to get to the notebooks as soon as
possible."  Diana looked away.

Lucie returned with two lengths of rope, which she handed to Mulder.
Instantly, he jerked Diana against the closest tree.  "Fox!" she
exclaimed in surprise.  "Fox, what the hell are you doing?"

"Hey, there!" called one of the EMTs, alarmed.  He stood to intervene.

"Federal Agent," snapped Mulder, pinning Diana with one arm as he
flashed his badge with the other.

"Mulder, what are you doing?" breathed Scully, fearing he was about to
do something rash.  He ignored her and continued to tie Diana to the
tree.

"That man was my friend," he ground out as he cinched the knots
tightly, "and someone has got to pay."

"But I..." Diana started to protest.  He cut her off by grabbing her
chin with biting fingers.

"You did it," he said, his face pressed right into hers.  "You may have
had help, but you did this just as surely as if you'd pulled the
trigger yourself.  And don't think I won't prove it."

She looked at him with disdain.  "You've got nothing."

He laughed lightly and traced her features once in a twisted imitation
of a lover's caress.  "Not anymore, I don't."  He turned to Marion.
"Tell the police I want her held for questioning in Skinner's death.
She is not to be released from custody under any circumstances."
Marion nodded, still hugging herself around the middle.

Then no one spoke as they watched while paramedics loaded Skinner's
body into the back of the ambulance.  Scully took a step closer to
Mulder, glancing up at him, but his gaze was still focused straight
ahead, his mouth set in a hard line.  She squeezed his forearm gently,
and he startled.  He looked down at her and their eyes held for a long
moment.  Then with a last glance at the ambulance, he repeated, "We've
got to go now.  Before the cops get involved."

Scully nodded and looked down at red smears still coating hands.
Mulder might want to blame Diana and the men who tracked them, but she
couldn't help feel partially responsible for the blood on her hands.
It was for her that he had risked his life.  She swallowed with
difficulty and vowed not to let him have died in vain.  They would find
the notebooks. "Just let me get cleaned up," she said in a hollow
whisper.

They started back toward the house, but Mulder stopped once more in
front of Diana.

"Was it worth it?" he asked, his eyes flicking over her face.  She
turned her head away, refusing to look at him.  He stood for another
minute and then nodded to himself.  "That's what I thought."  Then he
put a hand on Scully's shoulder as they walked away.

He did not look back.

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

From his position down the street, the Smoker watched as the police
cars arrived and the Taurus took off at top speed.  The incident with
Skinner had been regrettable, but necessary.  His actions had to be
punished swiftly or there would soon be others like him, thinking they
could double cross him at their leisure.

Diana would have to learn this lesson as well, he noted as he lit the
end of his cigarette.  But not right now.

Now he had simply to wait until the call arrived revealing the chip's
new location...and thus the location of the notebooks.

Not so badly done after all, my friend, he told the dead man silently
as the ambulance drove past.  Not so badly done at all.

********************************
End chapter eleven.  Continued in chapter twelve.
hkmason@netscape.net


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Chapter Twelve
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was chilly in the mountains, especially since the sun had
long since disappeared over the horizon.  The pink sky had
faded to an inky gray, signaling the onset of twilight. The
three hikers navigated the steep trail slowly, since it was
rocky and slippery from the recent rains. Lucie was in the
lead, and Mulder followed close behind.  With her shorter
legs, Scully had to work harder to keep up with the siblings
as they climbed the side of the mountain with facile grace.

Her fingers were raw and cold, but still she was sweating
with exertion under her black Gortex pullover.  Her side
twinged with pain at every movement, and she wondered if it
might be possible to sneak a couple of Tylenol without
putting Mulder on full alert.  The last thing she needed now
was to have him coddle her.  Or worse yet, decide to leave
her behind.

Just then Lucie came to an abrupt halt.  "The official trail
goes here to the left," she said, pointing, "but the lab is
up father and over to the right. We're going to have to
break off from the path."

"Can we make it before it gets totally dark?" Mulder asked.

Scully saw her shake her head in the dim light.  "No way.
It's another five hour's hike from here at least."

Mulder looked up at the sky through the leafy branches.
"We've got maybe another half an hour before it's completely
black," he said.  "Then I guess we'll have to camp until
dawn."  He turned back to face Scully, looming dark and
taller than usual due to the slope of the trail.  "How are
you holding up?" he asked, his voice businesslike but his
eyes kind. She knew then she had not been fooling him with
her silence.

"I'm fine," she replied, and tried to smile reassuringly. It
came out as more of a grimace.

He stared at her hard in the gray light and then handed her
his water bottle. "Take the pills, Scully, okay?"

Her eyes flickered over him once, and she accepted the
bottle wordlessly.  The cool water tickled her tongue with
minerals, but it was vastly refreshing. She handed it back
in silent thanks.   A few minutes later, they were on their
way again, moving even slower now that they had to navigate
through thick, prickling brushes and low hanging branches.

After perhaps another forty minutes, the natural light had
vanished, so they used Maglights to try to determine a good
place to set up camp for the night. When the tent had
pitched, they sat cross-legged on their sleeping bags and
devoured the simple supper Marion had sent along.

"So I don't understand one thing," Lucie said between bites
of turkey sandwich, and Scully thought she was doing pretty
well if there was just the one thing.  "If our father
thought giving Samantha up for testing would save her,"
Lucie continued, "why didn't he give you away, too?"

Scully glanced at Mulder's face, where it was shadowed in
the lantern light. His eyes flashed with an unreadable
emotion.  "It was supposed to have been me," he said after a
long moment.  "He changed his mind."

"Oh," murmured Lucie, looking at him sympathetically. Then
she flushed.  "I'm sorry about all the questions...I
shouldn't pry."

"No, it's all right," Mulder assured her swiftly, grabbing
her hand in a squeeze.  "You have a right to know."  She
ducked her head in response.

"I thought you said that your father changed his mind about
the whole thing," Scully said after minute.  "That was why
Samantha was abducted from your house, right?"

He blew a long breath and nodded.  "I guess now we know
*why* he changed his mind...he had the vaccine."

They finished their meal in silence then, each lost in
private thought. Later, when the lights were out and they
were tucked inside their sleeping bags, Scully learned what
Mulder had been thinking.

"Hey," he murmured, reaching out to touch her face.  "Are
you awake?"

"Mmm-hmm."  She did not tell him that every time she closed
her eyes, she saw Skinner's white face and bloody shirt.
"What is it?"

He inched a little closer to her, and she obliged him by
doing the same.  His voice was an intimate whisper on her
face.  "Scully, I was thinking..."  He broke off and
squeezed her hand tightly.  She returned the welcome
pressure.

"What?"

"My father was away so much after Samantha was gone," he
said after a long pause.  "When I was younger, I thought it
was because of me...that he couldn't stand to look at me
after I let Samantha be taken."

Her heart clenched at his words, which were laced with
childhood pain.  "Oh, Mulder..."

"Shh..." He broke in, leaning over to rub noses with her.
"It's okay now." She closed her eyes and nodded, breathing
in his now familiar scent.  He brushed her lips gently and
then pulled away just a bit. She opened her eyes.

"Go on."

He sighed.  "Well then for the past few years, I thought he
was away because he couldn't stand to look at me and my mom
because *he* had let Samantha be taken."

"And now?"

"Now...now I wonder if maybe he could have been searching
for her, too...all that time."  He squeezed her hand again.
"Do you think it's possible?"

She considered for a moment.  "I think it's very possible,"
she told him softly, cupping his stubbly cheek in her palm.
He covered it with his own and leaned his forehead against
hers.

"I love you," he murmured low in his throat.  She swallowed
convulsively and pressed closer.

"I know."  Hot tears formed behind her eyelids.  "I...I.."
Her breathing was shaky, and she just could not form the
words.  They would not come no matter how hard she willed
it..

"Shhh," he said after a moment, gently but sadly.  "It's
okay."

She nodded, sniffling against him, but knew very well that
it was not okay. What the hell was wrong with her, anyway,
that she couldn't give him this one, simple thing?  After a
minute, he moved away to lie on his back once more.

"Good night, Scully."

"Good night," she answered hollowly.  It was a long time
before she slept.

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

It was not difficult to find Spender.  When the old man had
first come sniffing around his father's tech company in
Tokyo, looking for money and the very latest in tracking
devices, Yushi had obliged him with a smile and some of the
newer equipment in development.

New, yes.  But not the newest.  Those particular gadgets he
had saved for himself.

So although Spender had enough wits about him to scramble
the calls from his cell phone, it was a trivial matter to
detangle the codes and track him down, especially given that
he was already known to be in Montreal.  However, the
purpose of his visit was rather confusing to Yushi.

He had been watching the old man surreptitiously for over an
hour, but he just sat in his car smoking.  At first, Yushi
had thought perhaps he was following Mulder and Scully, but
that did not seem to be the case. He was not watching any of
the nearby houses with any degree of interest. What the
hell? scowled Yushi to himself.

This sitting around with his thumb up his ass did not appeal
to him in the least.  The notebooks were out there
someplace, and he wanted them.  Now.

He was about to go confront the old man about what he knew,
when the subject of his surveillance received another phone
call.  This time when he hung up, the Smoker extinguished
his latest cigarette and started his car.  Very interesting.

Yushi followed the black sedan at a safe distance as they
headed north on route one thirty two.  Someone had sure lit
a fire under the old man's ass, he thought as noted the
speedometer climbing past eighty miles per hour.  After
several hours on the highway, a distant name teased the
edges of his brain. There had been a research center around
this area, hadn't there?

Liberty Labs.  Of course.

He smiled in the darkness and took the next exit, feeling
magnanimous enough to signal as he did so.  By the time the
old man figured out what had happened, it would be too late.

******************************
Scully awoke with a start, disoriented at first by the total
blackness inside the tent.  The air was warm and close, and
she could hear Mulder's deep breathing beside her, almost
but not quite snoring.  His hand rested on her sleeping bag,
directly over her hip.  She smiled fondly and closed her
eyes again, intent on getting some more sleep.

But the noises of the woods seemed magnified in the dark,
each rustling sending thoughts of wild animals racing
through her brain. Or worse, there were cracks of branches
that might have been footsteps of a human nature.  Her eyes
sprang open.

There was definitely something wrong.

But the problem was that the noises were too few, not too
many...only two people breathed inside the tent.   With a
jerk, she twisted to her left.  No Lucie.

At that point, the wind blew, causing the flaps of the tent
to slap open with the breeze, and Scully shivered.  It had
been closed up tight when they had gone to sleep.

Shit.  She sat up in her sleeping bag, her heart pounding as
she tried to decide whether to wake Mulder.  She felt around
at the edge of the tent for Lucie's boots, but couldn't find
them.  Deciding to investigate further, she silently slipped
on her own shoes and pulled a jacket over her head.
Flashlight in hand, she exited the tent into the cool night
air.

The clean scent of the forest tickled her nose with a blend
of wet dirt and pine needles.  And something else...smoke?
Her heart stopped completely as she saw the glowing tip of
the cigarette twenty feet away. It moved, as if drawn to a
person's lips.

Scully hesitated only a moment before shining her flashlight
directly on the smoker's face.

"Hey!" Lucie called out, squinting back at her.  "It's just
me."

With enormous relief, Scully made her way over to where
Lucie stood at the edge of a small stream.  "What are you
doing out here, Lucie?  It's not safe."

Lucie looked amused.  "You think I'm safer inside a plastic
tent?" she asked, and Scully had to concede she had a point.

"I didn't realize you smoked," she said after a moment.

Lucie blew out a delicate exhale.  "I don't.  Not really."
She glanced once at Scully.  "Marion made me quit a while
ago, but she lets me keep one...just in case of emergency."
She drew another puff and smiled weakly.  "I figure this
qualifies."

Scully answered her smile and dropped her chin to her chest.
"That it does," she agreed.  Then she tilted her head at the
younger woman.  "Couldn't sleep, huh?"

"Naw, I'm way too wired," Lucie replied with a shiver. "This
has been some kind of day."  She paused.  "Sorry if I
worried you by sneaking out here."

"It's okay," Scully said lightly.  She smiled.  "You're just
lucky I found you and not Mulder.  He would have had a fit."

"Mmmm," Lucie said, appearing troubled all of a sudden. "I
don't know."

The comment had not really seemed directed at her, but
Scully answered it anyway.  "Don't know what?" she asked
softly.

Lucie shrugged.  "He called me Samantha on the way up here."

Oh.  Scully hesitated, trying to think of what to say.
"He'll get better, Lucie.  It's just going to take some
time...for both of you."

"Yeah," Lucie said, but she did not sound convinced.  She
dropped the butt and crushed it out with her shoe.  "I'm
just afraid..." she said slowly, then stopped abruptly.
Scully waited patiently.  Finally, Lucie continued in a
halting voice.   "The girl with pigtails in his picture...I
was never that way.  No dresses or shit like that.  I played
hockey in the street, not Barbies in the sandbox."  She
looked away.  "What if I only end up disappointing him?"

Scully's throat closed off with emotion and she nodded.
"I've had the same feeling myself," she whispered to Lucie.
"If that helps any."

Lucie looked her, plainly shocked.  "You?  That's
ridiculous!  He's crazy for you, it's so obvious."

Scully shook her head slightly, angry that the tears had
returned again.  "He loves someone I can't remember," she
murmured thickly.  "I don't know how to feel about that."

"I'm sorry."  Lucie's tone was soft.  "I forgot."

Her words struck Scully as suddenly funny and she gave a
watery chuckle.  "Me, too," she said, "that's the problem."
Lucie laughed with her then, and they smiled at each other
in the glow of the flashlight.  For some reason it made
Scully feel a lot better.  "I'm going to head back to the
tent," she said. "You coming?"

Lucie nodded and followed her back through the trees. Once
safely back inside her sleeping bag, Scully settled in to
sleep immediately. She was about to drift off when she felt
a warm, feminine hand close over hers and squeeze tight.

Thank you, it said.

She squeezed back.  You're welcome.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Chapter Thirteen
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Mulder blinked sleepily at the dark green ceiling of the
tent and scrunched further down into the warm of his
sleeping bag.  Outside, a hundred species of birds held
their morning concert.  He withdrew his hand and felt around
for his watch.  It was almost six a.m.  Raising his head
from the ground a few inches, he looked over at Scully, who
was still sleeping soundly.  There were dark circles under
her eyes, so he decided to let her rest a bit longer and sat
up quietly to dress.

Lucie was apparently already up.  Her sleeping bag was gone
and so were her clothes.  Mulder pulled on his jeans and
drew a navy blue Henley over his tee-shirt.  Slipping on his
hiking boots, he went in search of his sister.

She was kneeling by the stream, washing her face with the
cool water. "Morning," he greeted her.  She toweled her face
dry and rose to her feet.

"Morning," she returned, looking him over from head to toe.
The inspection seemed to go on just a little too long.

"What?" asked Mulder, peering at down self-consciously.

"I was just wondering," she said slowly, "how I could be
related to someone who dresses like an advertisement for J.
Crew."

Mulder looked up sharply and realized by the light in her
eyes that she was teasing him.  Amazing.  "Remind me to go
shopping with you at the Salvation Army next time," he
returned, chuffing her head affectionately.  She grinned and
pulled away.

"We should get going soon," she said, turning serious.
"There's still at least four hours left to go."

He nodded and moved toward the tent.  "I'll just go wake
Scully."

"Wait!" she blurted, and he stopped, looking at her with a
puzzled frown.

"What is it?"

She bit her lip.  "Uh...it's just...oh, hell."  She scowled
at her own hesitancy.

"Lucie?"

"I don't know what to call you," she said in a rush.  "I
mean, she calls you 'Mulder,' but..."  She broke off, then
tried again.  "What did Samantha call you?"

A smile twitched at his lips.  "Butt Munch," he replied
succinctly.  Lucie blinked in surprise, and he smiled all
the way back to the tent.

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

He was waiting for them when they reached the lab.  Once the
technician at the Project headquarters had told him the chip
was settled inside Parc Gaspesie, he had guessed the
location of the research center immediately.  What a fool he
had been for not making the connection sooner.

But no matter.  It was all going to be over in a few more
minutes anyway.

He watched with interest as they navigated the high, chain
linked fence.  Who the hell was this third woman?  He
withdrew his binoculars for a closer look. When she finally
turned her face toward him, he gasped aloud.  It could not
be.  There was simply no way she could have escaped the
compound without his notice.  He looked again.

Tracking her movements across the open field toward the
white brick building, he realized his mistake.  This was a
totally different woman.  Younger and a bit taller, but the
resemblance to the other was uncanny. God damn, he thought,
there's another one...how incredible.

Bill, you fucker, what else were you keeping from us all
these years?

Then he smiled, a new plan forming in the back of his mind.
It was perfect.

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

Liberty Labs had been abandoned for a long time, but Lucie
was surprised to see it in such disrepair.  "When I was here
three years ago, the fence was wired with electricity and
there were at least two guards outside the building."  Now
there were only waist-high weeds. Paint was peeling off the
bricks, and several of the windows had been broken.

"Well, whatever was going on here, it's been terminated,"
Mulder said grimly. He stood on tip-toe to peer inside one
darkened window. "I can't really see much of anything."

"What does the map say?" Scully asked before taking a swig
from her water bottle.  Mulder pulled out the photograph
that they had carefully taped back together.

"If that's north," he said pointing, "then we're supposed to
start from the south side of the building."

Lucie shaded her eyes and scanned the woods from which they
had emerged.  "Do you think we've been followed?" she asked.

Scully paled suddenly at the words.  "Oh my God," she
breathed.  "I didn't think..."

"What?"  Mulder turned to her sharply.  "What is it?"

She closed her eyes and withdrew the small glass vial from
her pocket.  "The chip," she whispered.  "They could be
tracking us easily with this."

"Fuck," he muttered, summing up her feelings on the issue as
well.  He ran a hand through his hair and squinted at the
distant trees. "We're just going to have to move quickly, I
guess, and be very careful."  He looked at Lucie. "You stay
close, understand?"  She nodded and began to follow him
around to the back of the building.

"Mulder."  Scully was still rooted to the spot, the vial in
her hand.  He turned back to face her.

"What?"

She swallowed hard. "Maybe...maybe I should leave it here,
or throw it off the mountain.  Maybe that would be safer."

His eyes went wide, and he moved through the tall grass to
stand in front of her.  "Scully, no," he told her urgently,
grabbing her shoulders.  "You can't leave it here.  It's
your only chance at getting the memories back."

She licked her lips.  "We don't know that," she said
carefully.  "We don't know for sure this is the chip, and
there is certainly no guarantee that if we put it back in my
neck that the memories would automatically return."

"But without it, there is no hope at all," he argued.

She nodded.  "I realize that.  But it might not be worth the
risk just to find out."

"No."  He was insistent.  "You have got to hang on to it.
We're just going to have to be very careful not to be
followed, okay?"

"Okay," she relented finally.  She stuck the vial back in
her pocket, but imagined she could feel it burning through
the material to her skin.  They moved silently around to the
back of the building to find the starting point of the map.

"It starts there," Mulder said a few minutes later,
indicating a boulder about thirty feet from the back
entrance.  He led the way past the giant rock and back to
the woods once more.  Scully stopped on the edge to look
back over her shoulder, but there was no one to be seen.

She followed him into the trees.

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

Half an hour later, Mulder stopped in front of a narrow
opening in the rock. "This should be the place," he said,
his stomach twisting with anticipation. He took out his
flashlight and went inside.

The cave was actually quite sizable, despite the tiny
entrance.  It was dark and damp, with moss growing
everywhere.  The air was musty and stale.  "Spread out and
look around," he suggested to the women.

"What are we looking for?" Lucie asked as they criss-crossed
beams of light around the cave.

"Damned if I know," he answered.  "But we'll know it when we
see it."  He began feeling the walls with his fingers.  The
spongy moss did not seem to be concealing any hidden
passageway.  Five feet down, Scully was conducting a similar
examination.  "Anything?" he asked after a bit.

She shook her head.  "No, it's just rock under here."

"Maybe it's on the outside," Lucie suggested and headed for
the door.  Mulder consulted the map again as she left.

"No," he said to Scully.  "See here?  I'm pretty sure we're
supposed to be looking *inside* this rock."

"What about the ceiling?" Scully asked, looking up.  "We
haven't checked there."  They both trained their flashlights
on the low hanging roof of the cave.  Sure enough, in the
back there was a small metal door inserted in the ceiling.

"Hold this," Mulder said, handing his light to Scully. She
held it steady on the door as he reached up for the tiny
handle.  It took two tries, but finally he pulled it open.
A metal strong box came tumbling to the ground.  "Shit!" he
exclaimed, jumping out of the way.

Their eyes met over the box.  "Do you think they're inside?"
she breathed.

"Only one way to find out," he answered over the pounding of
his heart.  With a deep breath, he attempted to open the
lid.  "It's locked," he said through gritted teeth,
straining to pry it open.

"Stand back."

He put the box on the dirt and moved out of the way, at
which point she shot off the front clasp.  They shared
another significant look, and he bent to pick up the box
with unsteady hands.  He pulled back the cover.  Then he
closed his eyes.

"Well?" Scully asked when he did not say anything.  "What is
it?"

For an answer, he turned the box over.  Ashes fell out and
landed in a dirty pile at their feet.  "It's nothing," he
said bitterly. "We've risked our lives for a bunch of
goddamn ashes."  He felt like the world's biggest dupe.

"You think someone got here first and burned the notebooks?"
Scully was watching him with worried eyes, as if he might
finally go insane right there on the spot.

"How the fuck should I know?" he snapped, throwing the box
against the cave wall.  It clattered to the ground.

"It doesn't make any sense," Scully murmured to herself as
she knelt to examine the ashes.  "Why would anyone burn the
notes and then put the box back?"

Mulder was not really listening.  He was still too angry to
process much beyond the fact that he had failed.  Again.  He
kicked the wall.  "God damn it!"

"Mulder," Scully said, and this time something in her voice
made him turn to look at her.

"What?" he growled.

She glanced at the mouth of the cave.  "Where did Lucie go?"

The four simple words were enough to evaporate all his anger
and send chilling fear racing through his veins.  "My God,"
he breathed and ran for the door. Scully was close on his
heels.

Outside in the light, his stomach experienced a wrenching
sort of deja vu. Not far away stood Lucie, and behind her
was the Smoker.

He wore a small smile and held a very large gun.  Mulder
froze.

"I'm sorry," Lucie said softly.  "I was stupid."  The Smoker
wrenched her arm more tightly.

"Shut up."

"Leave her alone!" Mulder hollered, starting toward them.

"Ah-ah," cautioned the Smoker, and placed the gun squarely
at Lucie's temple. "One more step and she dies."

Mulder stopped in his tracks, breathing hard with the force
of his anger. "Let her go," he commanded in a tone cold as
ice.  "This is between you and me."

The Smoker's mouth curved in a ghost of a smile. "Actually,
it's between me and your father," he corrected.  "You just
happened to get caught in the middle."

"Let her go," repeated Mulder.  "Or I will kill you."

"Indeed I have no doubt of it."  The man's eyes narrowed.
"But only after I have put a bullet through the young lady's
head."  He jerked her arm again, and Lucie winced.  "You
wouldn't want to part with yet another sister, would you
Fox?"

Mulder seethed inside.  "What the fuck do you want?"

"Put down your weapons," he instructed coldly.  "Slowly."
After a moment's hesitation, both Mulder and Scully complied
with his wishes.  "Excellent.  Now kick them over there."
He nodded off to the right.

"Now what?" Mulder growled when they had done as he asked.

"Now I want the notebooks, of course," said the Smoker
smoothly.  Mulder answered with a dry laugh.  He had not
been the only one fooled.

"You're out of luck," he told the man.  "There are no
notebooks."  He saw a flicker of doubt cross the Smoker's
face before it settled once again into an icy mask.

"It will do you no good to lie now," he said.  "I will have
the notebooks one way or the other."

"He's telling you the truth," Scully argued from behind
Mulder's shoulder. "There weren't any notebooks in the cave.
If they were ever there at all, they've been burnt to
ashes."

"That's ridiculous!" snapped the Smoker, nearly twisting
Lucie's arm off as he spoke.  "Who would burn them?"

"Probably one of your back-stabbing friends," Mulder said
angrily.  "Or maybe it was my father who burned them, just
to ensure that they would never fall into your hands."

The Smoker wavered.  "I don't believe this nonsense.  Why
would Bill destroy everything he worked so hard to gain?"

Mulder gestured toward the mouth of the cave.  "See for
yourself," he invited. "There's nothing there."

For a long minute, the Smoker did nothing but glance from
Mulder's face to cave's entrance.  At last, his mouth
tightened and his eyes narrowed.  "Very well, then.  It
seems as though the latitude we have allowed you over the
years has been for nothing." He paused and looked down at
the young woman twisting in his hold.  "But you must
understand," he continued, "when I came here, it was to end
our association once and for all.  I'd hoped it would be a
peaceful parting...a reward, if you will, for a job well
done."

Mulder's gut convulsed as he realized the direction the
conversation was heading.  The Smoker's hand was trembling
on the gun, and Mulder watched riveted and unable to move.
Inside his mind, there was a never-ending stream of repeated
words: notagainnotagainnotagainnotagainnotagainnotagain

He quivered.

"Unfortunately for you," the Smoker went on in his hatefully
calm voice, "it's not going to work out that way."  He
leaned around to speak directly to Lucie. "Say good-bye to
your brother."

"NOOOOOOOOOOO!" screamed Mulder at the same instant Lucie
brought her boot down hard on the Smoker's foot.  He cried
out and she yanked free.

"Lucie!" Scully called, waving her over, and Mulder rushed
at the Smoker.  He tackled him so forcefully that the two
men tumbled to the ground, rolling around on the smooth rock
with the gun trapped between them.

"You sonofabitch," snarled Mulder as they struggled. Scully
went for her gun. The men grunted and rolled closer to the
edge.

"Watch out!" screamed Lucie, but they went right on
fighting.  Scully retrieved her weapon and hurried back to
the clearing. She was just an instant too late.

The gun went off and Mulder cried out, jerking in pain and
surprise, as he continued to kick against his opponent.
With a grunt, the Smoker lost his balance and tumbled over
rocky edge of the cliff, screaming as he plunged down the
mountain side.

"Mulder!" cried Scully, rushing over to him.  He lay on his
back, panting toward the sky.  "Mulder, are you okay?  Oh,
my God."

"Help him," pleaded Lucie, hovering over them. "Please...
you've got to do something!"

"Lucie, go get help," Scully ordered, already applying
pressure to Mulder's wound.  "Try to get the cell phone to
work and call in our position."  Lucie nodded through her
tears and sprinted into the woods like a deer.

Mulder moaned on the ground, trying to clutch at his chest.
Scully batted his hand away.  "Stop that," she scolded him,
pressing against his chest with the heel of her palm.

"Scully..." he groaned.  "Where am I hit?"

"Just above your heart," she replied quietly.  "Now stay
still."

He closed his eyes, pain crushing his chest.  "Lucie's
okay?" he asked in a slightly slurred voice.

"Lucie's fine," she answered, brushing his hair off his face
with tender, shaking fingers.  "She went to go get help."

"Mmmm...thasgood."  It felt like the inside of his chest was
on fire, but he struggled to open his eyes.  If these were
going to be his last moments on earth, he wanted to spend
them looking at Scully.  God, she was beautiful. Even when
she was crying, like now.  He tried to summon the strength
to touch her face.

"Scully donecry," he murmured, wiping her cheeks with his
thumb.

"I'm not," she lied, trying to smile for him.  It was
glorious.  "Now stop talking and save your strength."

He blinked slowly, and a thought occurred to him.  "Hey,
Scully...I win."  She looked concerned, like maybe he had
lost touch with reality.  "Three times," he explained,
gesturing weakly toward his chest.  "Ima winner."

She smiled weakly, but still looked pained.  "Yes, Mulder,
you win.  Can we call off the contest now?"

"Deal," he told her solemnly.  Then he shuddered.  "Iss cold
up here, Scully."

"No Mulder," she whispered.  "You're probably just going
into shock."  She shifted so that his torso was supported on
her knees, her small, strong hands still trying to hold the
life inside him.  His eyes slipped shut again.

"Wish the notebooks were real," he managed.  "Wouldabeen
great."

"Shh, Mulder.  Please."

He nodded and lapsed into silence.  Anything to make her
happy.  Love you Scully, he thought dizzily.  Love you so
much.  Be happy, okay?

Just then a black chopper sounded overhead.  He made a last
effort to pry his eyes open.  "Help?"

"Thank God," breathed Scully, her thighs shaking with relief
under his head. The chopper drew nearer and nearer, until it
set down in the clearing on the other side of the cave.
Mulder squinted against the strong wind from the revolving
blades.  Maybe he was going to live after all.

Then a slim Japanese man appeared around the bend, dressed
in a neat, gray suit and carrying what looked like an
penlight.  He felt Scully tense, and shared her fear.  This
man was not a medic.

"Where are the notebooks?" he said when he reached them.

"Not this again," muttered Mulder, and Scully pressed more
tightly on his chest.

"There are no notebooks," she said angrily.  "They were
burned."

"You're lying," snapped the man, his eyes narrowed.  "Does
Spender have them?"

"Spender went over the cliff," Scully told him with a jerk
of her head.  She trembled again.  "Please, there aren't any
notebooks...can't you just help us? This man needs immediate
medical attention."

He gave a short laugh.  "Tell me where the notebooks are,
and I'll think about it."

"Fuck you," Mulder managed, panting in pain.  "Fuck you and
the notebooks."

The man scowled and pointed his pen-like device at them like
it was a laser. "I'm asking you one more time...where are
the notebooks?"

"Are you deaf?" cried Scully.  "There are no goddamn
notebooks!  They were NEVER HERE!"  A second later, Mulder
was hit by a crackling beam of electricity.  He convulsed
under its force as it traveled through him and into Scully.
When it was over, he tasted blood in his mouth.

Scully was shaking hard now, her hands unsteady on his
chest. "Please...I'm telling you, there weren't any
notebooks!"  The man raised his weapon again.

"I don't believe you," he stated flatly, and a second bolt
went charging through them.  Mulder nearly passed out.  Only
his fear for Scully was keeping him conscious at this point.

"Stop," he breathed hoarsely.  "Leaver 'lone."

"Give me the notes," the Japanese man sneered.  "And then
I'll be on my way." There was a pause, then he made as if to
zap them once more.

"Wait!" cried Scully suddenly.  "Here..."  He felt her
moving around behind him.  "There were no notebooks, okay?
We only found this."  With Herculean effort, he managed to
open his eyes to slits, enough to see her stretching out the
vial with the chip at the bottom.

"Scully, no."

Her voice shook as she said, "It's the only way, Mulder. We
have to give it to him.  We have to give him the notes."

The man accepted the vial and studied it closely.  "This is
what the map directed you to?" he demanded suspiciously.

"Yes, that's all we found in the cave.  There were no
notebooks."  She had gone rigid behind him, and Mulder
fought the encroaching darkness as he struggled to stop her.


"Scully, don't...don't do this."

She answered him with determined silence.  The Japanese man
nodded finally and pocketed the chip.  "This makes more
sense than a bunch of paper anyway," he announced with a
satisfied little smile.  "So long."  He glanced once to
where Mulder was shivering from shock and smiled thinly.
"And good luck." Mulder blinked slowly, and when he opened
his eyes again, the man was gone.  In another minute, the
chopper lifted from the ground and disappeared over the
trees.

Mulder huffed against the pain.  "Scully..." he said, his
voice reproachful. "Shouldna done that.  No memory now."

"Stop it," she said, clearly crying hard.  "It's okay.  I
know everything I need to know."  She brought her face right
down to his. After everything they had been through, she
still smelled sweet.  "It doesn't matter."

He tried to argue some more that she should not have
sacrificed her only chance at the lost memories, but his
mouth did not seem to work anymore.  The darkness
overwhelmed him in a wave, crushing him tight, then set him
free.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Chapter Fourteen
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

To Scully, the clock on the wall seemed to be ticking out a message
with every passing second.  Wake. Up. Wake. Up.

But Mulder did not hear it.  He had been unconscious for nearly two
days, having passed out right before their rescue by Lucie and the real
medical alert chopper.  He was breathing on his own, which was a
hopeful sign, but he had not moved a muscle since his arrival at St.
Sebastian's hospital.

Scully fought her own body's demands for sleep by pacing the brown
speckled floor of his small room.  Sometimes Lucie joined her, sitting
in the uncomfortable wooden chair and chewing her nails as she watching
the rise and fall of Mulder's chest with worried eyes.  Other times she
had the sterile white room to herself, as Lucie would go back into the
waiting room to sit with Marion for a while.

It was terrible of her, she knew, but Scully found it difficult to talk
to the other two women right now.  If Mulder died, they would at least
still have each other.  She chided herself harshly for the selfish and
unkind thoughts--Lucie clearly wanted Mulder to recover as much as she
did--but she could not bring her feelings for Mulder under the umbrella
of reason.  Logic just did not apply.

With a tired sigh, she walked slowly to the edge of his bed and studied
his face, searching for any sign that he might be waking up.  Nothing.

She took his cool, limp hand and rubbed it gently between hers to try
to imbue him with warmth, with life.  "Mulder," she whispered, "I need
you to wake up now.  There are so many things I have to tell you."  She
squeezed his hand, but there was no return pressure.  "Please,
Mulder."  Her voice was low and urgent.  "I know it's hard, and I
wouldn't ask you if it weren't so very important...please wake up."

He did not stir at her words, and she blinked back tears of
frustration.  She thought of what she had realized on the mountain, as
his blood had oozed warm and wet over her fingers.  It had been only a
gut feeling then, but now she had proof.  How horrible it would be if
he died without knowing the truth.  She leaned closer, lecturing him in
a breathless voice.

"Mulder, if you die now, it will have been for nothing.  Do you hear
me?  We will have struggled for nothing!"  His silence weighed on her
like a stone slab.  After another tense moment, she drew a shaky breath
and patted his hand.  "Okay, Mulder...you think about it, all right?
Just don't take too long."  She smoothed his hair off his brow with
gentle fingers, and then went into the small adjoining bathroom

She did not want him to hear her crying.

Covering her face with her hands, she leaned back against the closed
door and slid slowly down to the floor, crouched as the hot tears
trickled over her fingers.  What good was a medical degree if it didn't
let you save the person you loved the most?

She wept brokenly for long minutes, until her cheeks were hot and her
eyes were swollen.  She reached over and pulled off a length of toilet
tissue and used it to blow her nose.  Rising unsteadily to her feet,
she took several deep, jagged inhales to try to even out her
breathing.  The neurologist was going to be by to see Mulder any
minute, and she had a dozen new questions to ask.

Wearily, she turned the knob and walked back into the quiet, white room
where Mulder lay.  He was blinking at the ceiling.  "Mulder?"  She
raced over to his side, and he turned his gaze on her.  "Mulder!" she
cried, not bothering to hide her joy.   She gripped his hand tightly,
still smiling down at him. "Thank God you're okay."

"Scu-lee," he managed to croak out, weakly smiling back at her.

"You want some water?" she asked, reaching for the plastic cup on his
night stand.  He nodded a bit, and she helped him raise his head enough
to take a few sips through the straw.  "More?"  He declined, his head
falling back on the pillow.  She stroked his hair.  "I should get the
doctor," she murmured, and started for the door.  His hand stopped her.

"Scu-lee," he breathed with effort.  "Scully, didjoomeanit?  Know
everything that matters?"

She nodded, swallowing the lump in her throat.  "Yes," she whispered
hoarsely, bending over to kiss his forehead.  "I meant it."  It wasn't
"I love you."  Not yet.  But she trusted he understood her meaning.

He smiled and closed his eyes.  "Scully," was all he said, and she
smiled.  She kissed him one last time before going outside to spread
the good news.

Lucie's shout was heard all the way in the next wing.

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

Scully wanted to tell him something.

Last night he had fallen asleep before he could ask her about it, but
he had known even then that she had something to say.  It was written
all over her face.  "Tell me," he'd wanted to order her yesterday, but
after Lucie and the doctors, he had been completely sapped of
strength.  He had managed to say about three words to his sister before
passing out again for another eighteen hours.

Getting shot just isn't what it used to be, he thought wryly as a
freckled nurse changed the bandage on his chest.  Scully was
supervising with a watchful eye.

He tried to reassure her mentally that he was ready to listen.  I'm
going to stay awake this time, he willed to her across the bed rail.  I
want you to tell me, whatever it is.

He glanced up at her face to see if she had received the message.  She
was studying his bullet wound.  "You're lucky it's not infected," she
commented in her best Dr. Scully manner.  He would have sighed, if it
didn't hurt so damn much.  Their telepathy was apparently not working
that day.

"Done now," he told the nurse, practicing his out-loud words so that
when she *finally* left he could talk to Scully.  The nurse just
snorted and continued fussing at his chest.

"Behave," Scully ordered gently, and gave him the eyebrow treatment.
He smiled cheekily and held out his hand to her.  If he had to lie
sunny-side-up while a complete stranger sponged down his chest, at
least he could finagle a little hand-holding action while he waited.

Scully slipped her small, warm hand in his.  Much better.  He squeezed
and she smiled, squeezing back.  Tell me you love me again, he
commanded her mentally, trying out the telepathy one more time.  She
didn't answer, but he did get another hand squeeze.  Good enough for
now, he thought.

At long last the nurse packed up her things and went for the door.  He
looked immediately at Scully, eager to get things under way before the
pain killers addled his brain and sent him off to La-La land for
another twelve hours.  "What is it?" he asked her.  "What's going on?"

Her eyebrows lifted and she moved to sit next to him on the bed.  "What
makes you think anything is going on?"

"Scully, you know that game show...'To Tell the Truth'?"

She nodded.  "Yeah."

"Well, don't ever audition as a contestant.  You would have better luck
playing the slot machines."  She smiled and ducked her head.

"Okay, okay."  Then she looked at him seriously.  "Mulder, I think I
may know who burned the notebooks."

"What? Who?"  He tried to sit up, but she pushed him back onto the
pillows.

"Stop that."

He grabbed her hand and tugged.  "Who burned them?"

"I think..." She took a deep breath.  "I think you were right,
Mulder...I think your father must have done it to make sure no one else
from his group could get their hands on the vaccine."

Mulder frowned, remembering again how angry he had been to find only
ashes in the strong box.  "Well, if that was the plan, it worked," he
said.  "The only trouble is that no one gets it now."  He met her eyes
and found her looking at him intently.

"No, Mulder," she whispered after a moment.  "Someone did get it."

In that instant, he knew, too.  "Me?" he croaked in surprise.  She
nodded.

"Yes, I think so.  I think once Petrov and your father had a working
vaccine, he must have injected you with it...then burned the notebooks
so no one else would have access to it."  She cleared her throat.  "I
took the liberty of having some of your blood analyzed.  You have
antibodies to a virus that is currently not classified by the CDC."

Mulder heard her, but just barely.  His heart was pounding in his
ears.  "My God," he breathed.  "It's been there all along.."  He looked
at her in wonder.  "How did you know?"

"I didn't, not at first," she replied, licking her lips.  "It was just
something that occurred to me on the mountain, when you were bleeding
so much.  I thought about what you said about your father intending to
give up Samantha if it would have saved her, and then I thought...why
would he only want to save one of his children?  Then I just sort of
knew."  She shrugged.

"Wow," was all he could manage.  It was incredible.  All this time he
had been searching the world--the stars, even--trying to find the
truth.  He had never once thought to look inward.  "Wow, Scully...it's
amazing," he told her, his fingers caressing the soft skin of her
wrist.  She smiled.

"Yeah, it is," she said, and he saw something other emotion flicker
across her face.

"What is it?" he asked quickly.  "Is there more?"

She hesitated, shifting on the bed.  "No one seems to know who the
Japanese man is that took the chip."  He closed his eyes tightly at her
words.  Shit.  He had completely forgotten about her sacrifice.

"Scully, I..."

"Shhh," she replied, placing gentle fingers on his mouth.  "It's okay.
I don't regret it for an instant.  Now let me finish."  Obediently, he
fell silent.  "The Japanese man has disappeared," she said again, "and
so has the Smoker."

"What?"  Again he tried to sit up.  She stilled him easily.

"I looked over the edge of the cliff before we left the mountain, just
to see," she said.  "He was gone.  There was a search crew sent up
there, but so far no body has been found."

"And there won't be one," Mulder replied bitterly.  "You can't kill the
devil."  He looked away.  "God damn."

"It's all right," she soothed.  "We can find him.  And in the meantime,
there's the task of trying to recreate the vaccine from your blood
samples."

His eyes flickered over her once and he gave a tiny sigh. "Yeah." She
smiled at him, sort of wistfully, and he feared she might be regretting
the lost memories.  He touched her thigh.  "What?" he asked softly.

"I was just thinking about what you told me about our work, about
saving the world."  Her hand slipped through his again.  "I think maybe
you will."

"Maybe."  His fingers tightened on hers convulsively.  "But I can't do
it alone."

She smiled.  "You don't have to."

He closed his eyes, feeling jittery and achy and utterly exhausted.
But there was one more important thing he needed to do before he
slept.  "Pants," he said to Scully, becoming monosyllabic again as the
painkillers wove their spell.

The little wrinkled appeared between her eyebrows.  "Mulder, you're not
going anywhere for a while," she said.  "You need time to heal."

"Pants," he repeated insistently.  "Where'd they go?"

With an exasperated sigh, she rose from the bed and went over to the
ugly brown wardrobe in the corner.  He was not surprised to find she
had hung his jeans neatly over a hanger, despite their smattering of
dirt and blood.  He only hoped that the tiny bag had not fallen out
somewhere along the way.

"Satisfied now?" she asked him as she laid the soiled jeans on the
bed.  He groped with his right arm until he found the pocket in
question.  Ah, good--it was still there.  He withdrew the clear plastic
bag and held it out to her.

"What is it?" she asked, puzzled.  He waved at her weakly, too
exhausted to form more words.  She opened the bag and let the delicate
gold chain slid out onto her palm.  "This is mine," she breathed,
looking up at him.  He nodded, trying to tell her with his eyes to put
it on.

This time the mental communication worked, and she fastened the cross
around her neck.  He managed a last smile.  Now she looked like Scully
again.  "Same Scully," he whispered to her as he closed his eyes.

She brushed her lips to his forehead just as he was dozing off, and he
would have sworn he heard her murmur, "Yes."

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

He was sulking and watching the rain from the bedroom window when Lucie
came to bring him lunch.  "Hope you like grilled cheese and bacon," she
said, setting down the tray by the bed.  He squinted at her.  Something
was different.

"Your hair," he declared after a minute.  "It's different."  The bright
red streaks had been removed, leaving only a dark chestnut brown.  It
was a little wavier, too.  More feminine.  Kind of like...oh.

Lucie had colored a bit.  "I just needed a change," she said with a
shrug.  "I thought I'd maybe grow it a little longer.  What do you
think?"  Her tone was casual, but her hazel eyes were anxious.

"Lucie, sit down a minute, will you?"  He patted the bed next to him.
She looked wary.

"Uh, okay.  For a minute."  She sat stiffly on the edge of the bed, as
if ready to bolt at moment's notice.  He could tell she had been
outside earlier, because she still smelled faintly of summer rain.

"You know I'm going to be able to go home to DC in a couple of days,"
he began slowly.  She picked at the bedspread and nodded.

"Yeah, I know.  Scully mentioned."

He touched her arm with one finger.  "Do you also know how much I'm
going to miss you?"  She looked at him sharply in disbelief.

"For real?"

"Of course for real.  You're my sister."

"Not..." She broke off and swallowed hard.  "Not the one you were
looking for."

"No," he allowed softly.  Then he smiled at her.  "But the best one I
ever could have found."  She bowed her head, and he hesitated before
continuing, "I'm still going to keep searching for Samantha.  Until the
day I die, I will not give up on her.  And now, when I do find her, it
will be even more incredible, because you will be there, too."

She looked up at him, and he caught the sheen of moisture in her eyes.
"But what if, when you find her, she's not like you remember?"

He stroked her arm for another moment.  "I'll love her anyway, no
matter what.  Because she will always be my little sister."  He
paused.  "Just like you."

There was a moment of silence, then she twisted and threw herself
across his middle, holding on tightly.  He felt tears sting his eyes as
he gently smoothed back her hair.  "No matter what," he whispered to
her again, and she shuddered against him.  After another minute, she
sat up and wiped at her eyes.

"You better come visit," she warned.

"Naturally," he replied tugging on the end of her hair.  "I'm going to
have to check out the new 'do."

"What if I decide to dye it green?" she asked, but this time it was
clear that she was teasing.

"I'll bring sun glasses for the glare," he returned, deadpan.  She
laughed and moved around to the other side of the bed, propping herself
up against the pillows next to him.

"Hey," she said, eyeing his sandwich.  "You going to eat all that?"

He grinned and handed her half.

*************************
End chapter fourteen.  Continued in chapter fifteen.



~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Chapter Fifteen
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Mulder lumbered out of the bedroom in his robe, knowing he probably
looked like Frankenstein's monster with his spiky hair, angry red scar
and lurching walk.  Truth be told, he felt like adding a deep groan or
two, just to complete the effect.  It was Sunday afternoon, and he was
bored to tears.

Scully had not been helping matters with her polite inquiries,
pampering him from afar ever since they had returned from Montreal ten
days before.  She offered him magazines.  She offered him tea.  She
offered him total control of the television remote.  In fact, she had
offered him every damn thing in the apartment except the one he really
wanted:  her.

She had been friendly, loving even, but also rather distant.  He
wondered if she could be regretting her hasty words, but decided that
could not be the case.  Her expression when he had first woken up in
the hospital said it all, and Scully's face never lied.  She loved
him.  Now if only he could get her to do something about it.

He found her in the kitchen, dressed in jeans and a tee-shirt and
scrubbing determinedly at a brown spot on her countertop.  From what he
could see, the stain was holding strong, but he knew that smart money
would still be on Scully.  She put her hands on her hips and glared at
the counter.

"Hey," he said, coming up behind her.  She jumped and he put his arms
around her waist.  "Scully, do you think you're ever going to touch me
again?" he asked by her ear.  She smelled like bleach.

"What are you talking about?" She squirmed free.  "I touch you all the
time."

He stifled a snicker.  "Scully, I'm all for playing doctor, but we seem
to be operating with different ideas about what that game entails."

"Mulder..." She tried to look stern, but he caught a glimpse of humor
in her tone.  "How can you possible be thinking about sex already?
It's too soon.  You were practically dead three weeks ago."

"Scully, didn't you know?  Death is the only thing that stops men from
thinking about sex.  Practically dead just means we have to be on the
bottom."

"I see."  She crossed her arm over her chest, now looking thoroughly
amused.  "So I should have ravished you in your hospital bed, then?"

He closed his eyes briefly and allowed himself to imagine that one.
Mmmm, yes.  Definite fantasy material there.  He opened his eyes again
and smiled at her.  "Well, since you didn't, I can be gracious enough
to allow you to make it up to me now."

"Ha.  That is generous of you."  She tossed her dishrag on the
counter.  "Just what did you have in mind?"

His heart picked up as he realized she might actually play along.
"Well, Scully," he murmured, stepping closer to her.  "It's been well-
documented that a fellow human's touch can speed up a person's healing
process."

"Hmmm," she said, tilting her head up to meet his eyes.  "I have read
something to that effect."

He nodded solemnly.  "It's true.  And I would think as a doctor, you
would want to do everything in your power to ensure the well-being of
your patient."  He moved so that were less than three inches apart.

"You could be right, Mulder," she said, her voice a low vibration in
her throat.  "I certainly would not want to be accused of providing
substandard care."  He willed himself not to quiver.  It felt like
forever since they had been together this way.  "Tell me..." she
continued, lifting one pale eyebrow.  "Where does it hurt?"

Oh, yeah.  He lifted his hand to the base of his throat, parting his
robe slightly to reveal the small hollow located there.  "I've kind of
had this ache," he said.  "Right here."

Immediately, Scully's soft fingertips moved gently over his skin.
"Here?" she breathed, stroking him lightly.

"Mmm-hmmm," he managed.  She moved another inch closer him.

"Well if it hurts," she said, "I really should get a closer look."
Then he felt her breath teasing over his throat.  An instant later, her
tongue came out to lave the dent in his collarbone.  He moaned.
"Better?" she asked.

"A little," he answered, beginning to really enjoy the tease.  "But now
it hurts more to the right."  He pulled the robe off to one shoulder,
and Scully dutifully moved to his new "injury", planting soft kisses on
his skin.  Her hand slipped inside his now-gaping robe to touch his
ribcage, directly below his heart.

"How about here?" she asked, skimming her fingers over him lightly.
"Any pain here?"  She punctuated the question with a light kiss to his
jaw.

"Oh, yes," he told her with a groan.  "Lots of pain there."  Unable to
refrain from touching her any longer, he slid his hands under her tee-
shirt to caress the supple muscles of her back.  Scully pulled away.

"I'm sorry, sir," she told him with a wicked gleam in her eye.  "I
completely forgot about your physical therapy.  Hand exercises, wasn't
it?"

He nodded vigorously.  "Lot and lots of them," he agreed, running his
hands down to squeeze her rear.  She smiled and pulled the tee-shirt
over her head, revealing a pale peach bra.  For a moment he wondered if
they might have carried the patient bit a little too far, because the
sight of her was making him dizzy.  She undid the clasp and the bra
fell away.

"Here, try this," she suggested, guiding his hands to her breasts.  As
he cupped them gently, she leaned up to press her mouth to his.  Their
tongues twined lightly as he rubbed her nipples into pebble hardness.
She tasted tart and sweet, like the lemonade she had with lunch.

He kept up his tender assault on her breasts until she murmured
incoherently into their kiss, pressing her hips closer to his.  As he
arched to meet her thrusts, his swollen cock pushed out between the
folds of his still loosely-belted robe.  Scully took him gently in hand.

"How about here?" she panted, breaking free from the kiss.  Her lips
were red and shiny, and her eyes dark with arousal.  He groaned again,
licking his own lips to capture any lingering taste of Scully.

"Mmmm...yes," he managed to say.  "That hurts most of all."

She chuckled, a low sexy sound that shivered through his ears. "I think
I can make it better," she murmured.

"Oh, I know you can," he breathed through his smile, allowing his eyes
to drift close as she continued to pleasure him.  He stroked the soft
skin of her stomach.

"You seem rather feverish," she commented after a moment, and leaned in
to lick his neck.  "Perhaps you'd better sit down."

Sitdownsitdown.  He nodded weakly and shuffled backward until he felt a
kitchen chair at his knees.  Sinking down on the seat, he let the robe
fall completely open, revealing his proud standing erection to her
hungry gaze.  He pulled her to him, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses
against her stomach.

She trembled and guided him to her breasts with a gentle pressure on
his chin.  He complied by taking one rosy tip in his mouth, licking
with just the pointed part of his tongue until she cried out and pulled
his head closer.  He sucked more deeply.

"Oh, that's so good," she crooned, and he stole a look up at her.  Her
head was tipped back, her jaw slack and her eyes closed.  It was
glorious.  He went for the snap on her jeans.

Her hands moved to help him, and soon she was standing before him
wearing only a hi-cut pair of pink panties.  He tried to get those off,
too, but she stopped him, breathing hard. Instead, she knelt in front
of him, caressing his erection with both hands now.  He jerked into her
hands.  "Scully..."

"Doctors usually recommend moist heat for injuries of this sort," she
told him huskily.

Ohyesohyes.  Please.  He swallowed hard and his hips jerked once more
under her touch.  Her eyes never wavering from his, she leaned forward
and took the very tip of him in her mouth, never stopping the gentle
motion of her hands.  A low moan tore from his throat.

Encouraged, she moved closer and allowed him to slide deeper into her
mouth.  Her tongue swirled over the head. He reached for her shoulder,
needing to touch her as she was giving him such incredible pleasure.
He stroked her with one hand, unconsciously matching the rhythm of her
mouth on his penis.

He wanted to keep his eyes open and see her head bobbing sweetly in his
lap, but the sensation was too intense.  His eyelid felt heavy and his
toes tingles.  He squirmed in his seat, not wanting to choke her but
needing to move with the hot suction of her talented mouth.  "Mmmmm,
Scully..." he panted, his hands tangling in her hair.  "Sogoodsogood."

Oh, too good!  He was about one second from orgasm.  "Scully,
Scully...gonna come."  He meant to push her head away, but only ended
up drawing her closer.  His eyes parted to slits, and he saw her
looking up at him with a dark blue gaze and flushed cheeks.  That was
all it took.

He hissed, clenching his ass off the chair and gripping fistfuls of her
soft hair with his hands.  Scully stayed with him, sucking him strongly
and then with less pressure as the climax wound down.  Eventually she
released his cock and pressed a kiss to his thigh, leaning her head on
his leg.  Dazed, he rubbed her soothingly as he waited for words to
return.  Scully recovered first.

"So did the touch therapy work?" she asked, looking up at him
innocently from her place on his thigh.  "Are you all better now?"

He laughed weakly and groped for her fingers, which he kissed.  "I
think you went to far in the other direction.  I think you killed me."

She laughed, too, and stood up.  "In that case, I prescribe lots bed
rest," she said, tugging him to his feet.  He hugged her close, and
they swayed together gently.

"You know that I love you, right?" she whispered against his chest.

Yes, he knew.  But it was another thing entirely to hear that *she*
knew it, too.  He kissed the top of her head.  "I thought it was a
miracle that you would love me once," he murmured, wondering how he had
managed it yet again.  She hugged him hard.

"I did," she said, planting a kiss to his breast bone.  "I do."
Another kiss, this one on his chin.  "And I will."  She found his
lips.

He held the kiss for a long, sweet moment before pulling away.  "You
know, Scully..."

"Hmm?"  She smoothed fingers over his chest, not really listening.  He
grinned.

"You don't look so well yourself," he said.  He felt her body leap to
attention at his words.  "I think you could use a little of this touch
therapy, too."

She tilted her head at him, as if considering.  "Come with me to the
bedroom," she repeated at last.  "These kind of illnesses should be
evaluated lying down."

He followed her immediately to the tangled sheets, where he performed
such a thorough examination that Scully awarded him an honorary degree
on the spot.

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

Scully was awakened from her light doze by the sound of her doorbell.
She blinked sleepily at the clock, and wondered who could be calling on
a Sunday afternoon.  Reluctantly disentangling herself from Mulder's
warm, naked body, she slipped on a robe and went to answer the door.

"Mom," she said in surprise when she saw who was on the other side.
Her mother gave a tight smile.

"Hello," she said awkwardly, glancing past Scully into the room.  "Have
I come at a bad time?  I can always come back..."  She started to turn
away.

"No, wait," Scully blurted, and her mother froze.  "Come in," she
offered after a second.  "Please."  Mrs. Scully stepped gingerly over
the threshold, as if she were afraid she might be shot on sight.
Scully gathered her robe more tightly around her and gestured toward
the couch.  "Won't you sit down?" she asked formally.  Her mother
nodded and perched on the very edge of the sofa.

Scully waited silently for her to begin.

"I came to tell you again how sorry I am that I lied to you," her
mother said finally.  "And also, I wanted to give you these."  She
withdrew several leather-bound books from her shoulder bag.  "Bill took
them when you were still in the hospital."

"My journals," Scully murmured, accepting the books with amazement.

"He was wrong to take them," her mother confessed.  "And I was wrong to
go along with it.  We never should have kept these things from you.
I'm sorry, Dana."

Scully sighed, looking from her mother to the books in her lap.  "It
was a terrible thing you and Bill did to me," she said quietly.  She
pinned the other woman with a hard stare.  "And to Mulder."

"I know, I know."  Mrs. Scully swallowed several times, tears in her
eyes.  "We just thought we were keeping you safe.  These past few
years...well, they've been very hard...on all of us."

Scully flipped through one of the books slowly.  "I understand that
better now," she said after a minute.  "Mulder explained some things to
me.  It still does not justify what you did."

Her mother nodded.  "Of course, you're right.  I think Fox Mulder is
actually a very decent person, it's just..."  She broke off and licked
her lips delicately.  "It's just he leads a very dangerous life."

"Yes, he does," Scully agreed simply.  "But the fact remains, no matter
what you think he might have done to me in the past, you owed it to me
as your daughter to tell me the truth."

"I'm so sorry," her mother said in an anguished whisper.  "You're
right, we should have told you the truth."  Then there was a long,
awkward silence and finally Mrs. Scully stood to leave.  "I should be
going now.  I hope that you can forgive me for hurting you...I promise
that was never my intention."

Scully nodded.  "I'll try," she promised, at the same time noticing
that Bill had not been by to offer similar words of regret.  As much as
she wanted to assure her mother that everything was forgiven, she knew
that it was going to take a lot of time to mend the rift.  "I will call
you next week sometime," she said as she walked her mother to the
door.  "We can talk more then."

Her mother nodded, tears still glimmering in her eyes.  For a moment,
Scully thought she might try to hug her, but then she simply left.
Scully closed the door gently after her and returned to the couch where
her journals lay.  She looked at them for a long minute before deciding
to rejoin Mulder in bed.

Later she would read the story of her life.  Right now she was too busy
living it.

***********************
End chapter fifteen.  Continued in part sixteen.
hkmason@netscape.net



~~~~~~~~~
Epilogue
~~~~~~~~~

Columbus Day, 1999

Indian summer is such a glorious phenomenon, and this year I'm enjoying
it in style.  I'm sitting on a beach towel at Martha's Vineyard,
digging my bare toes into the hot sand while Marion lies napping beside
me.  I think I may catch a small one myself very soon.

The warm day has drawn many of the locals down to the water to play
under the last rays of summer sun, but Mulder and Lucie have seen to it
that we stand out in the crowd.  No one else can claim to have a black
beach umbrella.

This weekend has been good for Mulder and Lucie, I think.  They have
been all over the island together, and I suspect it was a nice change
for Mulder to share the happy parts of his childhood.  As I write this,
he looks more like an over-grown twelve year-old than the future hope
of the human race, as he and Lucie are taking turns dunking each other
in the waves.

I am so pleased that he is well enough to play again.  I could listen
to the sound of his laughter for days and never tire of it.

Lucie seems more relaxed, too.  After a series of awkward starts, I
think she has finally settled on calling him "Mulder", which makes him
smile when he talks about it.  Though he has not lost hope of finding
the sister who used to call him "Fox".  This unrelenting certainty that
he will see Samantha again is just one reason why I find him so
incredible.

Now, of course, he is amazing for not just who he is, but what he is.
The vaccine in his body can be isolated if we have the time and the
resources to do it, and it shocked us both when Walter Skinner provided
the means for us to accomplish this task.  It turns out that he carried
a life insurance policy of two million dollars, of which Mulder and I
were the surprising beneficiaries.  The money will go a long toward
defraying our start-up costs.

As we have probed a little deeper into Skinner's past, Mulder and I
have uncovered some things that I suspect he would not have liked us to
know.  I think I now understand his parting words to me, and I am doing
my best to honor them.  Should I ever recover my lost memories, I will
be selective about which pieces I use to assemble my picture of him,
making sure the light hits only the strongest parts.

Diana is only a memory now, too.  Mulder campaigned hard for an
investigation into her possible role in Skinner's death, but ultimately
there was no solid connection between her and CGB Spender.  There was,
however, enough evidence to charge her with treason.  Quite an
accusation, considering the problem was not that she had loyalties to
another government, but that she had no loyalties at all.  Likely it is
this last part that got her killed--a car bomb that went off two days
after her initial indictment.

Mulder did not want to talk about her death with me, though he awoke
sweating and shaking every night for a week.  Finally, he went to visit
her grave, and he was gone quite a long time.  What he said to her, I
don't know...he would not say...but the nightmares went away after that.

As for me, I have accepted that I may never regain the memories of the
years I lost, but like Mulder, I have not given up hope.  The chip is
out there somewhere, and maybe we can find it.  In the meantime, Mulder
gives me back a piece of those memories each night, stitching together
our adventures like a quilt as we touch toes in the darkness.

I make him tell me everything, even when it hurts.

In his memories, I am everything from a nagging harpy to an Amazon
warrior.  I fight with him and for him, and we always seem to arrive at
the truth together, somewhere in the middle.  He says that I am what is
best in him, and I know it is the same for me.

If I do get the chip back, the greatest part will be suddenly having
six extra years with the most extraordinary man I have ever known.  It
is enough to make me keep looking for a long time to come.

Right now, however, I think I'm going to go put my feet in the water
and enjoy the rest of this visit with Marion and Lucie.  The next time
we see them, it will be for Thanksgiving in November, when they come to
see us in D.C. for a few days.

And God help us all, because Mulder is making the turkey.

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

THE END

Author's notes:  Sorry for the delay in posting part II.  All I can say
is there was an unfortunate incident involving me, a steep mountain
trail and a slippery rock.  I am now doing a fairly good impression of
Igor. <g>  Necessary Evils was a challenging project for me, given how
new I am to the X-Files community, but it has also been immensely
rewarding.  I thought if I was going to tackle the mytharc, I should
attempt a reasonable answer as to why Mulder was not killed by the
Consortium in the second episode.  (okay, okay, I know the *real*
reason...CSM gets bribe money from the Fox executives--but that's such
a boring story!) Chris Carter's version seems to be something about
Mulder getting psychic abilities from an alien artifact, and personally
I find this VERY unsatisfying.  Mulder is an exceptional man, but he is
still just a man.  That, for me, is a big part of his charm.  If I
wanted super-powered crime fighters, I would watch the Saturday morning
cartoons.


Mulder, Scully, and I put a lot of blood, sweat and tears into this
work, and I certainly would like to know what you thought if you made
it through to the end.  If you'd like to reach us, we'll be catching
the last summer rays on the beach(after 494K, we've earned that R&R!)
Please come by and pull up a towel-- we'll be the ones with the black
umbrella. =)

Thanks for reading!  I hope you enjoyed it.

Hannah
hkmason@netscape.net