Let's see... It's installment 4 and back to the GC part.  The viewers in the 
US are awaiting the episode that finds out some info on C-man's background.  I 
wanted this little ditty out there before everything in it became obsolete, so 
I upped the posting schedule.  It may take me a little longer to get the fifth 
installment out.  My reactions aren't working, but I still have to clean the 
mess up I've generated while trying.

Disclaimer: I know this will never happen on the TV show.  That's what fanfic 
is all about.  It's also about not owning the characters.  That privilege goes 
to Chris Carter, 1013, and Fox.  No harm intended.  Some mild third season 
spoilers apply.  The thing was too far gone, and I thought it was almost done 
by Oct 4th, so I didn't even THINK about referring to anything in the fourth 
season.  I swear the last few scenes and any similarities to new eps are pure 
cowinkidink.

If parts don't make it to your server, e-mail me.  Responding on the newsgroup 
might not make it to me for four or five days.  The whole series is New 
Beginnings.  The sections will be subtitled but should still be considered to 
be under the main title.  So far: 
     NB I = Something New (4 parts)
     NB II = Old Issues (4 parts)
     NB III = New Fears (4 parts)
     NB IV = Old Lies (8 parts)

New Beginnings IV -- Old Lies 
     By Nicole Mason (mason@umr.edu)
     4/96-10/96 (forever, whew!)

Thirteen months later...

     He looked across the room without thinking, hoping Scully would help 
distract him.  Of course she wasn't there and hadn't been for quite some time. 
And she was teaching right now, so he couldn't even call her.  He looked at 
the stacks of papers and forms that needed to be filled out and quickly 
averted his eyes again.  As was his habit when the paperwork threatened to 
overwhelm him, he took a stack of old X-Files and started reading through 
them.  Idly, he flipped through the stack and separated the cases into 
categories.

     There were usually three stacks and then he would go through each of 
those and sub-organize them.  The main stacks were X-File, Possible X-File, 
and Shitty Investigative Work.  Some days had only one pile that would grow.

     He froze on the second to last file in the stack he was separating.

     It was a simple missing persons report.  A young man had been expected 
to return home for a school break and had never shown up.  The parents hadn't 
begun to worry, or even noticed really, until the exclusive boys' academy had 
called, politely wondering if the young man had taken ill.

     The father, a man of old money and new political aspirations, had 
called out the big guns, screaming about foul play and an attempt to 
manipulate his office.

     The mother, a sedate and refined woman that had done her duty, worried 
about the scandal that might occur if it turned out her son had done the 
unthinkable and run off to join the fighting.  Or worse, married someone from 
the lower class.

     The investigation showed that the young man had never gone to the 
train station to begin with and no monetary, nor political, demands had been 
made on the family either after two months.

     Mulder's frown intensified at the last entry in the field notes.  The 
agent in charge of the case had written that the janitor of the boy's dormroom 
had seen a bright light the night the boy had disappeared.  The man had 
admitted to sampling a taste of scotch that night, so his testimony had been 
dismissed.

     Mulder knew the boy must have been returned eventually.  Mulder knew 
that he had graduated with honors from the exclusive academy and had gone on 
to his father's alma matter, Harvard.  Mulder knew the boy had escaped the 
fighting due to his father's connections and had also landed a job with the 
State Department right after graduation probably because of those same 
connections.  Mulder knew the man had gotten married and had two children 
several years later.

     Mulder knew that one of the children had disappeared when she was 
eight and that the twelve year old brother remembered seeing a bright light as 
his sister floated out of the room.

     What Mulder didn't know was why the young man in the picture had 
changed his name from William Anderson to William Mulder.

          * * * * *

     She knew something was wrong the minute she stepped into the 
apartment.  Her heart stopped beating for a moment until she heard the dual 
cry of "Momma!"  Dropping her purse and briefcase, she picked up the bodies 
that had launched themselves at her.

     "Hi, guys."  She listened intently as Josh rapidly told her what had 
happened with his friends at the daycare and Nick babbled in mostly baby-talk. 
 Kicking the door closed, she headed into the kitchen.  Mulder was there and 
calmly stirring a pot on the stove.  "Smells good, Mulder."  She somehow 
managed to tiptoe with her burdens and placed a kiss on his jaw.  She set Josh 
on his feet when Mulder jerked in surprise.

     "Hi, Scully," he said from far away.

     She quickly ran through the mental calendar in her head.  The good 
occasions of birthdays and wedding and work anniversaries were dismissed 
immediately and she went directly to the anniversaries of Samantha or his 
father and her disappearance or Josh's kidnaping.  It wasn't anywhere near one 
of those sensitive days for him.

     "Mulder, what's wrong?"

     Nick had reached across the small space and was tugging on Mulder's 
shirt.  Josh had returned to the living room and they could hear the annoying 
sounds of an often played Disney Classic start.  Mulder stared down at the 
baby in confusion for a moment and then shifted his grasp from the spoon to 
his son.

     "I found something in the X-Files today."

     His voice was still very far off.  "What?"  He smiled tightly at her 
question and her heart lurched.  It was the expression he usually wore when he 
was blaming himself for something.

     "I'll show you after dinner," he said as he looked at Nick.

     She nodded in understanding.  Nick chose the oddest words and phrases 
to repeat at the daycare.  They'd had to start watching what they said around 
him after he had told the entire room that Skinner was an alien.  It was 
definitely better than some of the things he could have chosen to repeat, 
though.

     "OK.  Has Nick eaten yet?" He shook his head and she said, "I'll do 
it."  She collected the baby and went back into the living room to pick up her 
things.

     Josh turned his attention from the movie long enough to say, "Daddy's 
sad."

     "I know, Munchkin, and Momma's going to see if she can help."  She put 
her things out of reach of small hands and headed back into the kitchen.  She 
waited patiently for Josh to process what she had said.

     "I'm not muchkin," he replied indignantly.

     She gave her standard answer, "Until you're bigger than me, you are."

     "Daddy!  Momma called me muchkin 'gain."

     "Well, stand up and prove her wrong," came the reply from the other 
room.  Josh stood up and glared at her in a good impersonation of his mother. 
"Close, but not quite, kiddo," Mulder said from the doorway.  "Another year or 
two and you'll have her beat.  But until then..."  Mulder smiled as the glare 
on the three and a half year old's face changed to a pout.  He turned the TV 
off and held out his hand.  "Supper's ready.  Eat and then you can finish the 
movie."

     Scully made a detour to the bedroom so she could change and prepare 
for the food fight she knew she was going to lose with Nick.  She never 
understood why they made bibs for babies instead of adults.  It was the 
parents that usually ended up with the colorful, mushy stuff all over their 
clothing, not the kids.

          * * * * *

     She quickly read through the file that Mulder handed her after the 
kids were in bed.  It was very short and she didn't see a point to it.  She 
reread it, looking for anything that might have grabbed Mulder's attention.  
"Where's the rest of the report?"  Maybe the incompleteness had intrigued him.

     "That's it," he said matter of factly.

     "But there are no conclusions, no follow ups, nothing.  Not even a 
summary saying the file is still open."  She flipped through it, trying to see 
if she had missed something so obvious.

     "I know."

     "Is that why it has you interested?"  The bright light seen by the 
janitor was too obvious and not even worth mentioning.

     "No."

     "Then why?"  At least she wasn't losing her touch.

     "Look at the photo."

     She did and raised her eyebrow in question.

     "That's my father," he answered.

     The young man in the photo could be a teenage William Mulder.  Out 
loud, she said,  "But..."

     "I know.  The name is different.  He must have changed it before he 
started Harvard."

     "But... why?"

     "I don't know."

     "Do you think your mother will know?"

     "Has she known the answers to anything else?" he asked bitterly.

     "Mulder...Is the school still open?"

     "I don't know.  My brain kinda shut down after I read it," he said a 
little sheepishly.  "But he did finish school there."

     "So they would have a record of how long he was not enrolled."

     "And maybe someone would still be there that remembered it, though I 
doubt it."

     She was quiet for a moment.  "Do you want me to go up there with you? 
Vermont's lovely at this time of year, and I still have some vacation days."

     "I've been careful, Scully.  I've been discrete.  Hell, I've only been 
shot at once in the two years I've been back and that wasn't even on an X-File 
investigation.  This could change it all again."  He was warning both her and 
himself.

     "Mulder, if this is your father..." She tapped the black and white 
grainy photo and the file beneath it.  "It could possibly answer a lot of your 
questions."

     "And get you and the kids hurt in the process."  He stared hard at her 
for a minute.  "I wouldn't want to live with that, Dana."  His voice was raw.

     "I thought you rejoined the Bureau for this.  For answers."

     His laughter was self-mocking.  "I guess I'm a hypocrite," he said and 
placed the photo inside the file again.

     Her eyes followed him as he stood up and threw the file in his 
briefcase.  His movements were sharp and angry.  "Mulder --"

     She wasn't surprised when he interrupted her and said, "I'm going for 
a run."

     She watched as he changed clothes almost furiously and stepped out of 
his way when he was done.  She wanted to say something but knew he had to work 
this out himself.

     "Don't wait up," he said as he closed the door.

     "I will," she said to the wood and went to retrieve the file.

          * * * * *

     An hour and a half later, the door clicked softly behind him and he 
pulled his t-shirt over his head.  Ineffectively, he tried to wipe the sweat 
off of his chest and headed for the kitchen to down a glass of water.  He 
filled the glass again, but drank it more slowly this time while he stared at 
the file and photo on the table.  He noticed a pad of paper with notes on it 
in her neat handwriting and wanted to look at it.  Instead he closed his eyes 
and turned toward the other room.  After killing the light in the living room 
and making sure the doors were locked, he went to take a shower.

     In his mind's eye, he replayed scenes from his childhood once again.  
There had never been any mention of the name Anderson.  He had never met his 
father's parents though, either.  They had supposedly died in a car crash 
years before his parents had even met and his dad had never talked much about 
the past.  He had never talked much about anything.

     His thoughts were pulled from the past deceptions as the shower door 
opened.  He smiled at her with a confused expression on his face.  "Excuse me, 
ma'am, but this stall is occupied."

     She raised her eyebrow and held out her hand.  "Shut up and hand me 
the soap."

     He placed the bar in her capable hands and closed his eyes.  Slowly he 
felt some of the tension drain away as she worked the lather into his skin.

     "I think we should start by checking out your family tree, Mulder.  
And if you don't mind, I think the guys should run the computer checks in case 
the files are tagged.  They can cover their tracks better than we could on the 
Bureau's computers."  She turned him around to rinse the soap off one side and 
started on the other.  "You and I can dig through the hard copies.  I'll be 
sure to pack some Dramamine," she promised.

     He smiled slightly in remembrance.  But he still wasn't certain they 
should uncover this particular skeleton.  "Dana --"

     "Your only reservations about proceeding with this are about Josh and 
Nick's safety, right?"

     "And yours," he said as he cupped her face.

     He knew she could take care of herself so she didn't bother to state 
the obvious.  "This may be the truth we've been looking for," she said softly.

     "I know.  And I'm not afraid of the truth.  But I am afraid of what 
they will do to keep it hidden."

     She reached behind him to turn off the water.  Taking his hand in 
hers, she opened the door and grabbed one of the towels. "I think we should do 
it, Mulder.  I think we should find out what happened to William Anderson and 
why he changed his name to Mulder."

     "But we move cautiously.  We hide our investigation behind plenty of 
smokescreens and make sure they don't catch on."  He wrapped the towel around 
his waist and watched as she pulled on her robe.

     "They have probably relaxed their guard, Mulder.  You've said it 
yourself, you've kept your nose clean for the past two years."  Her voice 
lowered to almost a whisper as they stepped into the hallway.

     "Relaxed it, maybe," he agreed in the same soft tone.  "But they 
wouldn't have dropped it completely."

     She nodded as he opened the boys' room and stared at the two sleeping 
figures for a moment.  The Star Wars nightlight cast a warm glow and projected 
his shadow across the room as he softly kissed Nick's red-brown hair sticking 
out of the covers and pulled the covers up over Josh. He knew the little boy 
would kick free of them soon, but he would be back to check on them again.

     Tonight was not going to be a night that he would make it through 
without having a nightmare.

     Scully tugged on his hand and towed him towards their room.  Once 
there, she dropped her robe to the floor and pulled the towel from his hips.  
Her smile was soft and full of promises as she ran her hands up over his 
chest.

     She didn't even have to order him to kiss her.

          * * * * *

     "Mulder?"

     He was lying on his stomach with his head turned towards her.  His 
eyelids twitched, but he didn't open them.  "Hmm?"  A small smile was playing 
on his lips.

     "The agent's name, Richard Carson, do you remember it from any other 
X-Files?  I've tried, but I can't remember seeing it."

     His forehead puckered as he frowned and she was sorry to have asked a 
question that had made him tense all over again.   But that question had 
gnawed at her the entire time she had made notes on the file.

     "No.  Why?" he asked as he opened his eyes.

     "I was just wondering," she said and closed her own.

     He turned onto his side and gathered her close.  "What is it?"

     "The report."

     "What about it?" he asked as he mentally reread the few pages.

     "I wonder why it wasn't completed.  Even if something happened to the 
first agent on the case, someone else would have written a follow up."

     "Maybe Carson was a rookie.  Or maybe it was just misfiled and lost." 
Another thought occurred.  "Or maybe he was told to back off the case."

     She stretched her tired limbs and settled closer to him.  "No.  The 
field notes weren't as disjointed and wordy as a rookie's.  And if he had lost 
the first file, there would be another completed one somewhere in the 
archives."

     "And if he was told to back off?"

     "We look for any other cases he may have worked on to see if there's 
any kind of pattern.  Someone may have been paying him off."

     "Hmm," he said as he felt her relax into sleep.  He laid in the dark 
for awhile and started thinking about the possibilities.  After an hour or 
two, he got up and went to check on the kids and then went to the kitchen to 
read over her notes.

          * * end * *


     When Mulder requested the files from the archives, he used only 
Carson's last name and the year of the case.  He didn't want it on record why 
he was looking for the things, so he used a bizarre, off-the-wall story that 
made the archivist role his eyes.  Mulder sat down at one of the tables and 
quickly scanned through the large stack that was placed before him.

     He frowned when not one of the files yielded the name of Richard 
Carson as the agent. There was a Michael, a William, a Peter, and even a 
Johnny, but no Richard.  Gathering it all up, he made a show of returning 
every single piece of paper and said that he had indeed found what he was 
looking for.  He would wait a couple of days before he returned and asked for 
a different stack with a different reason.

     It took a few weeks before he had searched all of the files ten years 
on either side on the X-File involving his father.  There were no other cases 
that had Richard Carson listed as an investigator and no record of him ever 
having been at Quantico either.  Mulder had run into a road block until Scully 
handed him a photocopy of something.

     "What did I do to deserve this?" he asked and stood up to greet her.  
It was a pleasant enough surprise to find her in the basement office of the 
Hoover Building, regardless of the gifts she came bearing.

     "There was a power outage and my class was canceled."

     "Why?"

     "Well, the refrigeration system went down.  We're keeping the coolers 
closed and praying that the --"

     "Stop right there.  I just ate lunch."  He looked down at the sheet of 
paper and frowned.  "So you just stopped by to see me?"

     "You're not that lucky, Mulder.  I thought I would pick up the boys 
and take them to the park."

     /Richard Carson?/ he mouthed.  She nodded.

     It was a photo of the man's graduating class at Quantico.

     "I'm sure they'll enjoy that.  Do you want me to tag along?"

     "Are you going to pull the head of the division thing again?"

     "No.  Skinner caught onto that.  I'll have to think of another 
excuse."

     "I'll see you at home then."

     He looked down at the photo again and smiled.  "You know, Mrs. Spooky, 
sometimes you are unbelievable."

     Her smile was almost a smirk.  "Why thank you.  I try."

     "So do you want to run away with me this weekend?"

     Her eyebrow raised in question and he nodded.

     "Why?  It's not our anniversary."

     "No," he agreed.

     "It's not my birthday."

     "No."

     "OK, Mulder, what did you do wrong this time?"

     "Nothing yet.  I was hoping you would be able to corrupt me."

     "I'll think about it," she whispered as he pulled her into his arms.

     "Hey, Scully, you wanna do the wild thing in the office?"

     "And sully my reputation?  I don't think so, Mulder."

     "Ah, come on.  We are married."

     "Yeah.  And married people don't have sex in the husband's basement 
office at work."

     "Since when do we always go by the rules?"  He wished he had kept his 
smart mouth shut when she stepped in closer to him.  But then again, he 
usually enjoyed the trouble his smart mouth got him into with her.

     "You're right.  We hardly ever followed the rules.  Why start now?"  
She pushed him back until he was seated abruptly in his chair.

     "Scully?"

     "Hmm?" she asked as she adjusted her skirt and made herself 
comfortable, straddling his lap.

     "What do you think you're doing?"

     "Adding a little spice to our love life."

     "Go with it, Scully," he said and started attacking the buttons on her 
blouse.

     Both their heads whipped around at the loud coughing noise.  Her face 
flamed as she scrambled off of Mulder and turned her back to redo her buttons 
and readjust her skirt.

     Mulder hid his embarrassment at being caught by going on the attack.  
"What brings you down to the basement, Skinner?"

     "This came across my desk this morning and I thought you would be 
interested," he said and hid his smile.  He couldn't quite manage a frown 
though.  Scully was just too flustered for him to be angry.

     "I'll see you at home, Mulder," she repeated.  As she grabbed her coat 
and bag, she said, "Sir."  Then she practically ran out of the room.

     Skinner saw the disappointment on Mulder's face and couldn't hold the 
smile in any more.  "You know, I always half expected to find you two in a 
compromising situation when you were partners."

     Mulder shrugged with a cocky grin.  "Maybe we were just more careful 
about the possibility of being caught."

     "You careful?  I'll believe it when I see it."  He turned to leave 
after handing Mulder the file, but stopped.  "Oh, and you'll meet your new 
partner on Monday."  He closed the door and quickly followed the escape route 
he had laid out earlier.

     "What?!" he heard Mulder call through the closed door.

     Skinner knew he had only a few seconds lead and locking the door after 
him would only infuriate Mulder more.  He hit the stairs and escaped into the 
busy area of the first floor and all its tourists.  He smiled slightly in 
triumph.  At least he had an excuse to avoid his office for the rest of the 
afternoon.

     Mulder wasn't sure if he was upset or relieved that he had escaped a 
permanent partner for the past two years.  But Skinner sure had shitty timing. 
He and Scully would now have to work around his new partner as they tried to 
piece together what had happened all those years ago.

     But one large piece of the puzzle was sitting on his desk.

     They now knew who Richard Carson was and they could guess why the file 
on William Anderson (Mulder) was incomplete.

     It looked like Cancerman had been in the middle of things from the 
very beginning.

          * * * * *

     He threw his coat across the back of the couch and looked around at 
the chaos in the living room.  Shaking his head, he carefully avoided the toys 
scattered all over the place and followed the sounds of laughter coming from 
down the hall.

     Scully was soaked and trying to scrub two very dirty looking boys.  
"Hi," she said and brushed her damp hair away from her face.

     "Why didn't you wait for backup?" he asked and started rolling up his 
sleeves to help.

     "I was under the impression I could handle this myself.  Did you see 
the living room?  They did that in two minutes flat."

     He smiled in admiration.  "At least you got both of them in the tub at 
once.  One of them usually escapes when I try to do this by myself,"  As he 
said it, Josh made a break for it.  Mulder caught him before he cleared the 
bathmat and put him back in the tub.

     "What did Skinner want?"

     His smile turned to a grimace.  "I'm getting a new partner."

     "Again?"

     "Hey, I've only had three.  And we knew they were only temporary.  He 
made this one sound permanent."

     "Oh, joy.  That means we'll..." She stopped before she said anything 
in front of the human recorders.

     "Exactly.  This one goes into effect on Monday."

     "I take it this means you really want to run away for the weekend?"  
She blinked as Nick slapped the water and sent a dirty wave of the stuff 
directly at her.

     "Yeah.  I already put in for Friday off.  You don't have a class then, 
right?"

     "Nope.  We can leave right after work on Thursday.  Do you want me to 
see if Mom will watch the mutants?"

     "If she doesn't mind.  I have plans for a romantic weekend."

     She rinsed Nick a final time and watched as Mulder tried to finish 
washing Josh's hair.  "I'm sure you do," she said and wrapped the baby in a 
towel.  "Let me just say two words.  Quarantine.  Toast."

     "But, Scully, that would be thirty days of just you and me," he said 
and flinched as Josh managed to drench him.

     From the other room, he heard, "I have enjoyed my time away from 
hospitals, Mulder."

     "Then why have you ended up there several times in the last few 
years?"

     "Last time I checked, it was because of you."

     "Nope.  Wasn't me.  I had nothing to do with it," he argued and placed 
the protesting boy on his bed.  He turned his back for a second to get some 
clothes and muttered a curse as he started chasing after the fleeing suspect.

     Scully smiled at the squeals of laughter as she finished dressing the 
less mobile one.  Placing him on her hip, she went to see if Mulder needed any 
help recapturing the naked jaybird.  When she saw he had things partially 
under control, she set Nick down and went to change her own wet and dirty 
clothing.

     As they sat down to dinner some time later, she marveled at how well 
they still communicated silently.  When they first stopped working together as 
partners, she feared they would lose that special way of saying things with 
just their eyes.  But as Josh started talking, and then Nick, she realized 
they had gotten even better at it.

     Right now, he was thanking her for finding the picture.

     She was still a little uneasy about what the photo meant, but it also 
tied a lot of loose ends together.  "Mom said she would take them."

     "Permanently?" he asked as Nick spit out part of his dinner and threw 
it on the floor.

     "Well if you wouldn't do that with your seeds, he wouldn't have an 
example of how it's done."

     "Hey, I only do that at work."

     "And in the car.  And --"

     "OK.  OK.  I'll stop with the damn seeds."

     "Damn seeds!" Nick shouted and Josh laughed, knowing that saying 
certain words would get them in trouble.

     Scully was grateful for her years of practice of frowning at Mulder 
when all she really wanted to do was laugh.  The skill came in handy with her 
two mischievous munchkins.  When she thought about it, she still used it on 
Mulder, too.  She aimed The Look at Josh and he immediately adopted Mulder's 
best wounded expression.  Again, she fought a smile.  It was hard to reprimand 
a kid when he was acting like you just told him George Lucas and Steven 
Spielberg were people, just like everybody else and hadn't really *met* any of 
the aliens in their movies.  She was glad when Mulder contained his amusement 
at both Nick's outburst and Josh's look.  That meant Nick would only say it 
twice more before he lost interest and Josh would drop the pout.

     "Great.  We dump the mutants, and it'll be just you and me and 
government conspiracies that span a half a century."

     "You still know how to show a woman a good time, Mulder."

     "It's good to know I haven't lost my touch."  His grin was wicked and 
hers was nowhere near innocent.

     "I assume we're not just going to walk up and say..."

     "We'll tell part of the truth.  My father went there and we're 
checking the place out."

     "For what reason?"

     "The boys," he said and nodded to the two children.

     "You mean we're going to act like we're society people?"

     "You got a better idea?"

     She thought about it.  "Not really," she said with a shrug.  But even 
the thought of sending her children to a boarding school was distasteful.

     "Neither do I.  At least not one that isn't suspicious."

          * * * * *

     "Mulder, you do plan on being back here by Monday to meet your new 
partner, don't you?"

     Mulder sat back in the chair and grinned.  "I thought about skipping 
out, but Scully is having her mom hold the kids as insurance."

     Skinner shook his head and hid his own smile.  He skimmed through the 
file and realized Scully had a hand in the investigation of this one as well. 
"You know the reason I'm finally assigning you a partner, don't you?"  He 
tapped his fingers against the file to emphasize it.

     Mulder hung his head slightly.  "Yes, sir.  I do."

     "It's not going to work though, is it?"

     "Most likely not."

     "Not even a little?"

     "Maybe just a tad," Mulder admitted reluctantly.  He knew he was being 
selfish when he asked for Scully's opinion.  But some habits were hard to 
break.  Especially when they were both unwilling to break them.

     Skinner just shook his head again.  He was doing this more for 
Scully's sake than Mulder's.  She wasn't getting all the recognition she 
deserved when she helped on the X-Files and it wasn't because Mulder kept it a 
secret.  Quite the contrary.  But because of her continued assistance, certain 
people at Quantico didn't think she was pulling her weight there.  Her 
supervisors knew it wasn't true, that she carried more than her fair share of 
a teaching load and was active in forensics.  But certain parties were rather 
vocal in their petty jealousies and complaints.

     "Mulder, I don't mind and some others don't either.  But it's 
promotion time."

     Mulder's eyes lit up with pride.  "Really?  Am I up for Division 
Head?"

     "What a promotion.  Division Head of a one person division you already 
run."

     "Well, I don't have to deal with insubordination."

     "Unlike yours truly."  Skinner tossed the file into the Out pile and 
smiled.  "So where are you two going?"

     "A B&B up north.  Dana wants to get away from the heat for a couple of 
days."

     "Well, have fun.  And if it turns out to be someplace Scully would 
want to visit again, let me know."

     "You and Mrs. S. looking to get away for a few days?"

     "Or weeks."

     Mulder turned back from the door in surprise.  "You take a vacation?  
They allow AD's to do that sort of thing?"

     "Once every ten or fifteen years," he agreed.

     Mulder smiled.  "See you on Monday, sir," he said jauntily and thought 
he heard Skinner mutter "unfortunately."

          * * * * *

     "So we know Cancerman's name was once Richard Carson."

     "That means I can call him Dick."

     "Not creative enough, Mulder," she reprimanded lightly.  "And we know 
that he was the one to investigate William Anderson's disappearance," she 
continued.

     "We also know that his existence was pretty much wiped clean from the 
Bureau's records.  Including all the cases he ever worked on in the three 
years between his Quantico photo and my father's abduction."

     "Disappearance."

     "Abduction."

     She rolled her eyes and looked again at the brochure in her lap.  
"Wentworth's Academy for Boys."  The academic program was impressive, and the 
countryside was gorgeous.  But she couldn't really understand why some people 
would want to send their child to a school that was so far away.  Especially 
when the cost was about equal to her college tuition per year.

     "You never answered my other question."

     "Which one was that?"

     "The one about how you were going to find things out about William 
Anderson instead of William Mulder."

     "Oh.  That one."

     He kept his eyes glued to the road, increasing her suspicions.  "You 
are not going to break into the place, Mulder."

     "Of course not."

     "Mulder."

     "Well... how else are we going to get any answers without tipping our 
hand?" he asked in self-defense.

     They had already searched all of his father's papers.  And what was 
surprising, and not surprising at the same time, was the complete lack of 
anything before he started college.  There weren't any old term papers or a 
high school diploma.  There wasn't even a trophy from some sport he played.  
They had also asked Frohike to go through all the old newspapers from when 
William Anderson was first reported missing.  After two days of front page 
news, three days of "continued on page 8," and two more weeks of sporadic 
"still missing" reports, there wasn't a word about it.  Frohike had found a 
few more references about the Anderson family, but it referred to Randolph 
Anderson's ill health and then death due to an automobile accident, along with 
his wife, Elizabeth, almost a year before Mulder's parents met.

     "And if we get caught?" she asked with a sense of foreboding.

     "We won't get caught."

     She wondered if they had enough money in their checking account for 
bail.

          * * end * *


     She pretended to listen avidly to the headmaster while Mulder 
carefully checked out the security and layout of the room.  She reminded 
herself that they weren't performing an official investigation and any 
information they found wasn't going to go beyond herself and Mulder.  She 
still felt a small twinge of guilt at the thought of breaking into the place 
later, but she tapped down on it.  She no longer cared how Cancerman was 
stopped as long as he was.

     Mr. Wentworth asked a few questions about Joshua and Nicholas, 
completely ignoring the more casual forms of their names.  She answered 
truthfully and managed to hide her cringe as he said, "Well, depending on the 
test evaluations, we have accepted some boys as young as four years old into 
our program.  Of course those children were extremely gifted and the 
occurrence is rare."  She nodded as if she accepted his evaluation of her 
children even though he had never met them.  And never would.

     Mulder finished his discrete surveillance and tuned into the next 
question the headmaster asked.  "Actually, my father was acquainted with your 
institution."

     Scully heard the slight sneer in his tone and shared the sentiment, 
but she kept her features as impassive as his.

     "Really?  I do not recognize the name Mulder, but my father would be a 
better source of knowledge for any students before 1965.  He was the 
headmaster for thirty years and took great pride in his students.  Much like I 
continue to do."

     "Oh, no.  He didn't attend the school.  But a friend of his from 
Harvard did.  William Anderson."

     The man's distinguished brow wrinkled in genteel confusion.  "The name 
is familiar, but it is common enough.  I may have known the young man, though. 
I attended Wentworth as a boy."

     She responded to the obvious prompt.  "And did your children graduate 
from here as well?"

     He smile was ingratiating.  "My wife and I only have one daughter.  
She, of course, graduated from our sister school, Sterling Academy in upper 
New York."

     He was acting like they should have recognized the place.  Mulder 
couldn't resist saying, "If it doesn't have a decent basketball team, the 
place doesn't exist."

     Scully saw the chance for her children to attend this fine institution 
fly right out the window.  She knew there had to be a reason for sticking with 
Mulder all these years.  Hiding her grin, she stood up and extended her hand. 
"Thank you for seeing us.  There are several other schools we are looking at 
as well."

     "Do not deliberate too long on a choice.  Our enrollment is very 
selective and applications must be submitted in a timely manner."

     She could see in his eyes that no matter what, their application would 
find its way into the trash.

     They shook hands and were headed out the door.  Mulder turned suddenly 
and asked, "Do you by chance keep records of your alumni?"

     "Why, yes, we do.  May I ask why?"

     "I had a thought about finding the current address of my father's 
friend.  They lost contact a number of years ago and..."  He shrugged, 
indicating that it was just a passing thought.

     "We do not normally give the information to non-family members, Mr. 
Mulder."

     "Oh, I understand.  He would most likely have a better chance of 
locating him through the alumni office of Harvard."

     "Our records are updated each year for alumni dinners and awards," he 
said as a matter of pride.  "Thank you for considering Wentworth's.  You have 
the applications?"

     Scully smiled tightly again.  "Yes.  And thank you again," she said as 
they were ushered out of the office.

     They were in the car when Mulder said, "Ugh."

     "My thoughts exactly.  So?"

     "The filing cabinets in the room had current years on them.  I bet the 
older records are kept in the room behind the office.  It's probably a storage 
room and there wasn't a door to it leading from the hall.  There wasn't an 
electronic alarm system.  And the computer looked old enough for Josh to be 
able to hack into it."

     "I didn't think Apple II-GS existed outside of museums," she agreed.

     "I'll call the guys and make sure the place isn't hooked up to a 
security system."

     "It will take them a couple of hours."

     "Whatever will we do to keep ourselves occupied?"

     She grinned at his leer and for good measure ran her hand along the 
inside of his thigh.  "I haven't a clue, Agent Mulder.  Why don't you tell me 
what you're thinking."

     He stopped the wandering appendage before she caused him to wreck the 
car.  "Skinner was right."

     She returned her hand to her own lap.  "About?"

     "We would have been caught in the act if we had been lovers while we 
were partners."

     She fought a blush as she asked, "He said that?"

     "You think we would have managed to keep our hands off of each other 
in the office for five years?"

     "We did manage."

     "That's because we were idiots.  He's almost caught us several times 
since we got married."

     "Just that once, Mulder," she said, thinking about the incident a few 
weeks ago.  Lord only knows the stories that would have spread if it had been 
anybody other than Skinner to walk in on them.

     "What about the Christmas party?"

     "We were fully clothed and standing several feet away from each other 
when he walked in."

     "If he had been just a few minutes earlier, he would have gotten an 
eye full.  And what about that picnic?"

     "You were the one that was hiding behind the bushes.  I was in plain 
sight," she pointed out.

     "That's because I couldn't zip my jeans back up without causing 
permanent damage.  All you did was fix your skirt and put your underwear in 
your pocket."

     She smiled softly in remembrance.  Mulder had been the one blushing 
that time.  "I think we would have managed it.  We would have been much more 
mindful of being caught and of the consequences."

     "Consequences.  Smonsequences.  I had no clue about how you felt and I 
didn't want to make a fool of myself in front of you."

     "That never stopped you before, Mulder."

     "Hey, I had no power over those events.  Me telling you I was crazy 
about you would have been a situation entirely of my own doing."

     "I probably would have only heard the words 'I am crazy' and not the 
rest of it."  That wasn't entirely true.  She probably would have thought she 
had imagined the rest of it and convinced herself she had finally gone over 
the deep end.

     "No.  You would have agreed that I was crazy and I would have thought 
you were saying you were crazy about me.  Then we would have denied everything 
and--"

     She smiled softly.  "Then we would have ignored it ever happened.  You 
would tell me to only call you Mulder and ask about rootbeer again."

     "Iced tea.  And I wouldn't have been stupid enough to do that a second 
time," he argued.

     She raised her eyebrow in disbelief and let the subject drop.  
"Mulder..."

     "Hmm?"

     "What are we going to do about this?"

     "We won't be able to do anything," he said in disgust.  "But it will 
be one more answer when we find my father's records.  And the picture is one 
more clue on Cancerman."

     "One out of how few in how many years?"  She stared out the window for 
a moment.  "He's been too quiet, Mulder."

     "I know.  I haven't even detected the smell of smoke in Skinner's 
office for two months now."  He stopped as he pulled into the parking lot of 
the small inn.  His next words were on a completely different subject.  "Do 
you feel weird without the kids?"

     "You mean no noise, no toys, no diapers and no dirty clothes?"

     "Yeah."

     "Yeah," she agreed.  "But I kinda miss it, too."

     "You want to start on another one?" he asked and waggled his eyebrows.

     Her own arched.  "Only if you're going to carry it this time, Mulder."

     He shuddered in horror.  "I don't even want to think about which 
orifice it would come out of."

     She ignored the desk clerk's stunned expression at Mulder's continued 
comments and checked them in.

          * * * * * 

     She looked up at the clear, night sky and wondered, not for the first 
time, if indeed there was life out there.  Each pinpoint of light could 
possibly be a solar system that would support or had supported the fragile 
balance necessary for the phenomenon.  She knew they couldn't be the only ones 
in the entire universe, but she couldn't believe that others were here, 
either.  It had taken over four and a half billion years for them to get this 
far.  Who knew how long it would take to get to the point that Mulder believed 
had already been achieved by others?

     "Scully, are you awake?"

     She turned her head and smiled slightly.  "Yeah.  Just thinking."

     "About?"

     "The possibility of life on other planets."

     He grinned in triumph and then returned his gaze to the building.  He 
had been watching the grounds through the binoculars for almost two hours now 
and not even shadows had moved after the campus-wide lights out at ten.

     She was reminded of past stakeouts and was overcome by a vague sense 
of nostalgia.  She missed the quiet hours of just the two of them, but knew 
they now had different ones.  Sometimes it was spent working on reports at 
home, sometimes it was spent watching the children eat, sleep, or play, but 
most times their most quiet hours were spent in bed.  It was almost like when 
he would call her at two o'clock in the morning to forget his nightmares, but 
now his arms were wrapped around her as his voice echoed softly in her ear.

     And sometimes their quiet hours weren't so quiet.  She had muffled her 
screams into a pillow or his shoulder on more than one occasion.  And so had 
he.

     "Now what are you thinking about?"

     She could tell by the tone of his voice that he already knew.  Or at 
least had a pretty good idea.  "Nuthin'."

     "Come on, Scully.  Don't hold out on me."

     "I was thinking about the boys."

     "Uh-huh.  You were thinking about how we got the boys."

     "Do you think everyone's asleep?"  They couldn't afford to get 
distracted by the topic they were both now thinking about.

     He smiled slightly as he silently agreed with her on the subject.  
"No.  Some of the students are probably still up.  I think we should wait 
another hour before we head down there."

     She nodded once and returned to her internal musings.

          * * * * *

     "He missed the entire spring semester.  Five months.  He was back in 
time for summer classes and doubled up on things to graduate on time."  
Mulder's voice was hollow as it echoed in the small room behind the 
headmaster's office.

     She closed her eyes for a second to block out his pain, so she could 
think clearly.  "He was only out of school that long, not missing that long.  
Remember the report said that he was still missing as of February.  There's a 
note saying the Andersons contacted the school about his illness in March."  
She paused for a moment.  "Are there any school medical files?" she asked 
softly.

     Mulder flipped through the rest of the pages.  "No.  But they might be 
kept in the infirmary."  He continued to flip and found the pages of alumni 
donations and information.  He passed the file to Scully so she could read it 
for herself.  "That explains why he never got any calls from the school."

     "But it says he died in the same car accident as his parents?"

     "Yeah."

     "That's not what it said in the article Frohike found."

     She saw his forehead wrinkle in the dim illumination provided by the 
flashlight.  "Maybe they were new at the game of coverup back then?"

     She had to ask one last time.  "Mulder, are you sure it's him?"

     "Yes."  

     She nodded her acceptance.  His voice held the same quiet conviction 
as when he spoke about his sister.  She was going to suggest that they leave 
when something caught her eye.  "Mulder, did your search on Richard Carson go 
beyond his FBI days?"

     He looked at her, questioning the change in subject.  "Frohike didn't 
find anything in the DC or Massachusetts databases."

     "Well, I guess nothing compares to old-fashioned paper trails," she 
mused and pulled out a file.

     "Scully?"

     "He graduated five years before Anderson.  It seems he was a special 
case they admitted.  His family didn't come from money, in fact his father was 
a teacher here."  Mulder read the file over her shoulder as she softly 
continued to tell him what was in it.  "He graduated with honors, joined the 
FBI, left that after seven years and went to work for the State Department."

     He let that sink in.  "The same year as my father did."

     She read the rest of the file while Mulder stared into space.  "It 
seems he died in a train wreck."

     "Let me take a wild guess and say the same year William Anderson 
supposedly died?"

     "Mulder --"

     The sound of someone opening the outer door froze them both in place. 
She quickly replaced the file and turned the flashlight off.  Mulder went over 
to the door and tried to listen to what was happening in the office.  She 
reached out to find his tense shoulder and wondered how they would explain 
this incident to Skinner.

     Mulder looked down but couldn't see any light coming through the 
keyhole or under the door.  The thick wood prevented him from hearing more 
than muted voices and the sound of someone hitting a piece of the furniture.  
The cry of pain was the only thing he heard clearly.  When lights still didn't 
come on after that, he knew it must be students that were on some kind of 
mission.

     He felt Scully's tense fingers grab his arm and he bit back his own 
cry of pain.  She was digging her delicate, little fingers into the area where 
bicep met tricep and she knew it.  This was his punishment for getting them 
into this situation.  He pried her fingers away and put her hand back on his 
shoulder where she could do a lot less damage.  They hadn't been caught yet, 
so he didn't see why he should be punished.

     They both breathed a sigh of relief at the sound of the door closing 
again.  Cautiously, he opened the storeroom door and peaked around the corner. 
Indeed the coast was clear.  They hurried to the window and Mulder climbed out 
first.  The six foot drop was nothing and he softly landed on the ground 
behind the hedges.  Scully crawled through and he helped brace her so she 
could reclose the window.  As he lowered her to the ground, his hands wandered 
over areas that really didn't need to be touched for this particular task.  
She reminded him of that by lightly slapping his shoulder when she was on her 
feet.

     His grin was unrepentant and he nodded in the opposite direction of 
their car.

     She shook her head and pointed the other way.

     His return look was a combination of steely determination and a plea 
for understanding.

     /Shit.  The infirmary.  Dammit, Mulder./   She nodded and followed him 
as they slunk around in the bushes.

     She almost had another heartattack when three shadows crossed in front 
of her a split second before she stepped from behind the bushes.  Mulder had 
continued to move and softly bumped into her.  He froze and waited as the 
shadows continued their journey back into the dorm.

     She silently vowed to get even as Mulder picked the lock on another 
one of the buildings on the small campus.  At least there weren't any MIB's, 
security cameras, overworked, under-paid, underappreciated guards, or even 
large dogs with larger teeth to deal with on this excursion of his.  It looked 
like the only thing they had to worry about running into were teenagers that 
wanted to be seen as much as they did.

     The infirmary was a little more up to date than the other office had 
been, but it still used a computer system that was archaic.  There was a 
database set up for students and treatments they received at the school, but 
all the records only went back six years.   She shook her head at the question 
he didn't voice and looked around the room for a filing cabinet or a door.  
Two of the doors led to supply rooms and the filing cabinets in the room held 
only paperwork on the current student population.

     "Basement?" he whispered.

     She shrugged at the possibility and followed him down the hall and 
then the stairs.  She could tell the path wasn't used frequently, but much to 
her relief, it was also kept free of creepy-crawly things.  At the bottom of 
the stairs and to the left were filing cabinets.  She read through William 
Anderson's file and knew Mulder was also looking for Richard Carson's.

     He brought the other file to her and asked about her findings on the 
one she was already reading, "Well?"

     "Nothing out of the ordinary," she said.  "Except..."  She knew he was 
going to make a big deal out of this.  "He suffered from nosebleeds his last 
year here."

     "Nosebleeds?  Scully..."

     "I know what you're going to say, Mulder.  But it gives a reason for 
them.  It says he had taken up boxing."  She finished reading the rest of the 
file and frowned.  "It also says he became more withdrawn his last year and 
that he had some recent injuries that hadn't completely healed, two small 
burns on his left thigh and a small scratch on his abdomen that had become 
infected.  The nurse attributed it to the "Incident" from the year before."

     He read over her shoulder again.  "Incident?"

     "God only knows what story they came up with to explain his absence 
with the least amount of scandal and publicity," she mumbled.

     "Yeah," he agreed and handed her the other file.  Somehow he didn't 
see people just accepting the family illness story.  Not after the newspaper 
accounts and the kidnaping investigation.  He was silent as she read what 
little information was available on Richard Carson.  She closed the folder 
after several minutes and handed it back to him without a word.  He placed it 
back where he had found it and followed her up the stairs.  He waited until 
they were on their way back to the B&B before he asked.  "What did it say?"

     "Nothing.  The kid was in perfect health."

     "Nothing?"

     "He had his shots on time.  He was in once or twice with a pulled 
muscle from being on the track team.  No mysterious nosebleeds, or mention of 
headaches, insomnia, or colds due to midnight walks in the forest."

     "So we have nothing.  Again."

     She didn't like the bitterness she could hear in his voice, but she 
understood it.  "We might."

     "What do you mean?"

     "I mean before we were interrupted by the midnight prowlers, I saw 
something in his main file."

     "You're drawing this out on purpose," he accused with a light tone.

     "No, I'm not.  I'm thinking before I actually say something."  She was 
silent for a moment and pulled the rest of her thoughts together.  "Carson was 
married."

     His eyes swung to her almost wildly.  "What?"

     "Up and coming, young FBI agent.  On the fast track to political 
esteem in the Bureau, he got married the year before he was sent up here to 
investigate Anderson's disappearance."

     "He's married?"

     "Was, Mulder.  Remember it said he died.  And the file said he had a 
daughter."

     "Maybe he kept in touch with them."

     She looked at him in mild disbelief.  "I don't think so, Mulder.  He 
does not strike me as the sentimental type."

     "We can check it out," he pointed out.

     She knew it would be fruitless to argue.  Then she remembered one of 
the other large breaks they'd had in uncovering the shadow government's 
actions.  It was from a time when they were just starting the cover-up game 
and hadn't realized the possible importance of computers.  So maybe...just 
maybe another clue from so long ago would help them find out something about 
the man that had played a very large role in their lives.

     "We can give Langly the information to get started when we get back to 
our room," she said after several moments of tense silence.

     He didn't gloat as she agreed to continue along the path.  He hadn't 
seen it as a battle to begin with and felt no sense of victory.  His thoughts 
were still internal as he parked the car at the end of the lot and waited for 
her near the trunk.

     "Are you ready for one more window?"

     "You've had a lot of practice doing this, haven't you?"

     He shook his head and boosted her up through the window.  He half 
expected her to shut it on his fingers, but knew she wouldn't.  It wasn't 
because she was afraid of the noise he would make.  Huh-uh.  She would end up 
taking care of the bruised appendages and she was most likely trying to save 
herself some work.  "You know I only do doors," he said once he was back in 
the room.

     "I probably should be grateful it's not heating vents.  Lord knows 
what kind of trouble you would get yourself into then."

     He grinned as he pulled the dark shirt over his head and threw it in 
the vicinity of the suitcase.  He climbed onto the bed behind her as she was 
taking off her shoes and tried to distract her from her task.  "Just imagine 
all the eavesdropping I could do at the Bureau."

     "You could definitely play with people's minds," she agreed.

     "More than I already do?"

     She gave up on trying to untie the laces on her shoes and settled for 
just kicking the sneakers off as she twisted and forced him back on the bed.  
She nodded and said, "You get off on it."

     "So do you," he agreed and used his hold on her hips to settle her 
more firmly against him.

     "They deserve it," she mumbled against his arched neck.

     He flipped them over and moved his thigh in between hers.  "So do 
you," he said again and went to work on the clothing barrier that was 
separating them.

          * * end * *


     Mulder politely extended his hand and greeted the man Skinner had just 
sent down to him.  He really wanted to pull his "Spooky" routine, but he could 
already hear the lectures from Skinner and Scully if he followed through with 
the urge.  He didn't go as far as to say it was nice to meet him, but he 
didn't ask the guy who he had ticked off to get the assignment either.  Mulder 
thought he was behaving himself.

     Special Agent Michael Carrington apparently thought he was being an 
ass, judging by the distasteful frown grazing the man's features.  Mulder 
couldn't help the half amused smile he knew he was wearing.  The name Michael 
Carrington brought to mind Michelle Pfeiffer while she sang about a "Cool 
Rider."

     "Well, Carrington, have a seat."  Mulder gestured to the room at 
large, but didn't offer to clear any of the chairs of their large piles of 
files and miscellaneous stacks of useful information.

     "I prefer Mike, or Michael."

     Mulder turned back to the layout of photos and rolled his eyes in a 
very Scully-like way.  Just for that, he decided to at least live up to part 
of his reputation.  "How do you feel about cattle mutilations?" he asked, 
keeping his features as impassive as possible.

     "Insurance fraud," the man replied without even looking at the photos.

     Mulder was shocked.  Completely speechless.  He twisted to look over 
his shoulder in awe, trying hard not to show his reaction.  Instead of being 
perversely amused by the man's statement, he was pissed.  He couldn't wait 
until the first time that "Mike" encountered something that wasn't completely 
explainable by conventional means and got his ass kicked.  And since "Mike" 
was built along the same lines as he was, it was bound to be soon.

     "That's one possibility," he conceded.  "But where would the ranchers 
get a hold of the technology necessary to perform some of the incisions?"

     "Local hospitals or universities."

     "For some of the locations, the nearest medical facility, usually just 
a clinic anyway, is almost an hour away with the nearest university close to 
two hundred miles away."

     "Air travel.  It would also explain any... unusual lights that 
accompanied the discovery of the corpses."  His new partner was standing with 
his hands on his hips, his jacket pushed back to reveal the gun in his side 
holster, and he was looking entirely too smug.

     Mulder was liking the little shit less and less.  "You'll get a chance 
to prove that theory," he said and stood up.  He walked over to his desk and 
pulled a file from the bottom of one of the stacks.  "Look over this.  We 
leave for Wyoming tomorrow at eight."

     "Tomorrow?  But..."

     Mulder let a little of his attitude show.  "Welcome to the life of a 
field agent."

     As soon as his new partner left, he grabbed the phone.

     "Scully."

     "It's me."

     "I thought we agreed on no phone calls at work when we were both in 
town," she said lightly.

     "Yeah, but I have to leave town tomorrow on a case."

     "With your new partner?"

     "Yeah."

     "Abduction?  Lights in the night sky?  Cattle mutilations?"

     "Try all of the above."

     "Oooh.  Sounds fun.  What time?"

     "We leave at eight."

     "Hey, Mulder."

     "Hmm?"

     "Just don't look at his mosquito bites if he runs into your room 
spooked."

     He smiled and reached for a file under a different stack.  "I can 
look, but I can't touch," he told her.

     "This is not the reason you called me," she said.

     "No.  It could have waited until we got home, but you need to 
rearrange your schedule now."  He heard her mumbled curses, but didn't grin.

     "You do this on purpose, don't you?  I've had to do it three times in 
a row now.  They stay mad at me for days afterwards."

     "It's not my fault they both inherited my distaste for doctors," he 
said in his defense.

     "Your distaste for doctors?  May I remind you of my title, Mr. 
Mulder."

     "No need.  It's Mrs. Mulder, or Mrs. Spooky, and has been for a number 
of years.  And besides you're a doctor for the dead."

     "I guess that's why you were my patient so often."

     "You know what that means, Scully?"

     He could hear her wariness in her silence.  "What?" she finally asked.

     "You just spent a long, fun-filled, satisfying weekend with a corpse."

     "Long?  Yes.  Fun-filled and satisfying?  No. You were pretty 
lifeless," she said and hung up to get the last word.

     He replaced the receiver.  "I was lifeless?  That's why you fell into 
an exhausted sleep more than once," he told the phone and started reading the 
background information on the area in question for tomorrow.

          * * * * *

     Mulder carried three pictures with him at all times in his briefcase. 
One was of his sister, taken the summer before she disappeared, one was of him 
and Scully that he had confiscated from Frohike, taken early in their 
partnership, and the third one was updated periodically.  This particular one 
was only a few weeks old.  Maggie had captured him and Scully while they were 
wrestling with the boys during one of the many Scully-family gatherings.  (He 
honestly couldn't recall the reason for the occasion.)  He didn't display the 
photos.  He didn't even leave them where a casual observer could see them.  
Somebody would really have to be looking hard to even recognize the small dash 
of color as the edge of a photograph.

     Somebody would have to balls of titanium to pull the photo out and 
then ask, "Is this your family?" as he sat back down in the borrowed chair in 
the small sheriff's office.

     "Yes," Mulder said and indicated that the photo should be returned to 
its original place.

     "She looks familiar."

     Mulder raised his eyebrow, but didn't say anything as he put the photo 
back and closed the briefcase.

     "I'm serious.  She looks very familiar."

     Mulder shrugged.  "When did you graduate from Quantico?"

     "Almost three years ago," Mike said defensively.

     "Special Agent Dr. Dana Scully.  Sometimes she agrees to call herself 
Mulder."  He would have thought Agent Carrington was already aware of who Mrs. 
Spooky was.

     The man was doing a credible job of appearing surprised.  "She was 
just starting to teach at Quantico."

     "She just returned to Quantico.  She taught there before she became my 
partner."

     "You married your partner?"

     Mulder hid his smile.  "I married my ex-partner."  At his continued 
stare of disbelief, Mulder said, "Don't worry.  Scully's the only ex-partner 
I've ever become involved with and that was only after we were no longer 
partners."

     Mike grinned a little self-consciously.  "I was just curious."

     "Next time just ask," he said seriously and stood up.  "Come on.  One 
of the ranchers has agreed to show us the location of the last find."  His 
grin was on the malicious side as he said, "I hope you know how to ride."

     "Ride?  A horse?"

     Mulder was glad at the uncertain, almost high-pitched quality of the 
man's voice.  At least he would be able to hide his own inexperience on 
horseback.  Not to mention the sore butt he could see in his immediate future.

          * * * * *

     Mulder carefully extended his abused muscles and stretched out on the 
bed next to his briefcase, reaching for the phone.  He dialed the familiar 
number and it rang twice before he realized what time it was.  It was too late 
to hang up though.

     "Mulder?"

     "Yeah.  I'm sorry.  I forgot about the time change," he said softly.

     " 'Sokay.  I wasn't asleep."

     "Sure you weren't, Scully.  Go back to bed.  I'll call in the 
morning."

     "OK, I was sleeping, but I'm up now.  And by the time you wake up 
tomorrow, I'll be on my way to work.  So what's up?  Are you missing me?"

     "Yeah."

     He knew she understood that he meant that in more ways than one when 
she said, "So how is Carrington working out?"

     "He prefers *Mike* or *Michael.*  And I think he hates me," he said 
with some optimism.

     Her soft laughed echoed over the wires and warmed him.  "You didn't 
spray an "X" in the middle of the road did you?"

     "Nope.  No roads."

     "Oh, god.  Mulder, did you spray paint one of the cows?"

     He grinned at her half serious question.  "Only because I didn't think 
of it," he said.  "So how were the boys' checkups?"

     "Fine.  All shots were administered with the maximum amount of fuss 
and they now hate Mom again."  He could feel the glare.  "You are taking them 
next time, Mulder.  You are not going to be able to get out of it."

     "They pull that pouty look, Dana.  I'm powerless against it.  You 
appear to be immune to its deadly force."

     "Only because I had years of practice with you, Mulder.  And I mean 
it.  They know if Mom takes them to work, they'll get shots later that day.  I 
don't want my children equating me with the evils of the pediatrician."

     He chewed on his lower lip and blurted, "And you?"

     There was silence and then "What do you mean?"

     "You had a doctor's appointment today, too."

     He stared at the muted TV as he waited for her answer.  "Yes, I did.  
I won't ask how you knew."

     "The number was written on the calendar.  And?"  She had been tired 
and slightly nauseous the past few mornings, and Mulder was worried.  She had 
tried to hide it, but toast was all that she had eaten on their trip.

     "Sinus infection."

     He exhaled in relief and could hear her own grin.  "That's all?"

     "Yep.  I'll be on antibiotics for the next couple of days so I guess 
it's a good thing you're out of town."

     "Oh, yeah.  Great.  We won't be tempting fate."

     "You were worried, weren't you?"

     "And you weren't?" he accused.

     "Not really.  Several other obvious signs were and were not present."

     "But enough of the others were there to make me nervous," he admitted.

     "We could eliminate the possibility of worrying, Mulder."

     "If it involves my genitals and sharp objects or suspension of certain 
marital activities, forget it, Scully.  It ain't gonna happen."

     "Now will you be able to sleep tonight?"

     "I may end up going into *Mike's* room to snuggle up with him, but 
I'll try it by myself first."

     "Be strong, Mulder.  I have faith in you."

     "You know, you're a real smart ass sometimes.  I don't know why I put 
up with you."

     "Do you want me to remind you why?"

     He swallowed hard at the deep throated purr coming over the lines from 
two thousand miles away.  "Why don't you go ahead and tell me."

     "You miss your collection that much, that you have to resort to phone 
sex?"

     "I miss you that much," he admitted softly.

     "Just another day or two.  And Mulder, I'm wearing the maroon outfit 
you got me for your birthday."

     His head dropped back against the headboard and he closed his eyes, 
picturing perfectly the sight of her in the silk pieces.  "Go with it, 
Scully."

          * * * * *

     Mulder was happy to note that he wasn't the only one that looked like 
he hadn't gotten any sleep the night before.  But he would bet that *Mike* (He 
couldn't even think the guy's name without emphasizing it) hadn't lost sleep 
for the same reasons.  After a very interesting conversation with Scully, he 
had gone for a run and thought about the case.  While Mulder outlined the 
things he had found out last night, Mike carefully drained the cup of coffee 
and impatiently waited for a refill.

     "Look.  Those kids got drunk.  They tortured a few cows, sobered up, 
ran away, and ended up in a car accident.  That's it."

     "Is that what the autopsy showed?  That they had a large blood/alcohol 
level?"  Mulder knew it wasn't true.  That's why he was asking.

     "I said they sobered up."

     "They were only missing for ten hours.  You're saying that they got 
trashed enough to think torturing cows was a good idea, went out in the middle 
of nowhere, even for here, without leaving any kind of tracks, did the job 
with laser precision while drunk, left, again without leaving any kind of 
sign, and sobered up as they drove three hundred miles in that time?"

     "That's exactly what I'm saying."

     "And you're completely discounting the sighting that occurred shortly 
after midnight?"

     "She was probably intoxicated as well."

     "Everyone in the county is an alcoholic that can't accept their 
problem and covers it up by saying they saw UFO's.  Is that right?"

     "I didn't say that, Fox."

     Mulder wanted to punch the complacent face across from him.  "I prefer 
Mulder."  Scully at her most skeptical had never ignored the facts like this 
guy was doing.  He was going to have to talk to Skinner as soon as he got 
back.  If he had to have a partner, he wanted one that he could at least work 
with and not be tempted to strangle the person.  "Go back to DC and write your 
report, Carrington.  Hand it in to Skinner.  And then you can explain to him 
why you chose to exclude more than half the facts on this case."

     Mulder wasn't warmed by the half frightened look on the other man's 
face.  "What other facts are there?" he asked almost belligerently.

     "Try the fact that these kids weren't the party animal type.  Try the 
fact that even ten hours later, the level of alcohol needed to get as drunk as 
you were implying would still have been be high enough to register.  Try the 
fact that one of the kids fainted at the sight of blood on a regular basis and 
wouldn't have had the stomach to take part in the mutilations."  Mulder felt 
like he was on a lecture circuit.  "The X-Files aren't about convenient 
evidence that fits preconceived theories.  These cases are X-Files BECAUSE 
they don't fit into the norm."

     The silence that descended was highly charged.

     Extremely tired and missing the person that could argue with him 
without treating him like an idiot, Mulder stood up and went to pay for his 
meal.  Mike wasn't that far behind and Mulder had a wonderful image of just 
dumping the dick in the middle of nowhere.

     "Look, I spent the past three years hearing stories about Spooky 
Mulder, the analyst, who could get into a guy's head better than the guy 
himself, and about Spooky Mulder, the..."

     "Lunatic that chases after little green men," Mulder finished.

     "Exactly.  And I don't have to tell you which stories outnumber the 
other."

     Mulder didn't bother with agreeing.  Even while he was gone, they had 
talked about him.  "You're worried about being the newest member of the Spooky 
Patrol."

     "It's not exactly something you want to write home to mom about."

     Mulder saw that as his OK to get rid of the guy.  But then he never 
was one to do what was always expected of him.  If *Mike* wanted out, *Mike* 
would have to work hard to get out.  And Mulder wasn't going to make it easy 
for him.

     "I don't know... Mom always enjoyed my stories."  He made sure his 
grin wasn't hostile.  Mulder decided that just for the hell of it, Skinner 
wasn't going to be able to find a damn thing wrong with HIS interpersonal 
skills.  And as division head, he would be able to officially dump a lot of 
the shit work on *Mike,* shit work that Scully had always made sure they had 
divided equally.

          * * * * *

     Three days later, Mulder waited impatiently for the line of people to 
be herded down the small aisle.  After a century or two, the line had moved 
enough for him to grab his garment bag from the storage area at the front of 
the plane and the people moved steadily after that point.  He absently exited 
the walkway and ignored the man that was several feet behind him.  All he 
wanted to do was get a cab and get home.

     "Daddy!"

     The phrase warmed his heart.  He heard it all the time in crowded 
places and it never failed to pull him from wherever his thoughts were.  This 
time it was no different.  Even though he knew Scully was still at work, he 
scanned the area for the voice.  He was pleasantly surprised to see Josh 
pulling on Scully's hand, trying to get to him.  He stepped out of the main 
stream of people and set his briefcase and bag down as the small body escaped 
the wrist hold and launched itself at him.

     The petite redhead finished crossing the distance with a little more 
restraint and wore a soft smile.  The other small body she held was reaching 
out to him as well.  His features lightened as he accepted Nick in his other 
arm and bent to softly kiss her.  "I didn't expect you to meet me."

     "That's why I did it," she said and retrieved his briefcase and bag.  
She started to lead the way out of the gate area and stopped.  "Mulder, 
where's your partner?"

     Mulder scanned the area in surprise. *Mike* had been at his heels the 
entire case and had even invited himself along on one of his morning runs.  It 
was a major change from the animosity at the beginning of the case and it made 
him nauseous.  "He's around somewhere," he said with a shrug.

     She raised an eyebrow at the tone but knew he would explain his 
attitude when they got home.  "Skinner called."

     "Just what I need.  What did he say?"  He tried to listen to Scully 
with one ear and the boys with the other, but Nick had more to say than the 
last time he had seen him, and Mulder had run out of ears.  He could see that 
she understood his dilemma and would wait to discuss the topic until their 
excitement over his return had diminished a little.

     His good mood evaporated at the sound of *Mike's* voice.  "Mulder, I 
can have that report on your desk tomorrow morning."

     He rolled his eyes and looked over his shoulder.  "I don't plan on 
going in tomorrow, so just wait until Monday."

     "But --"

     "It can wait, Mike.  Relax.  Not all of the cases are going to be this 
easy to solve."  Mulder turned back around and started walking again.  He knew 
Scully was wondering why he hadn't introduced them, but he just didn't want to 
deal with it right now.  He should have known it was the brown-nosing 
personality of his schizophrenic partner that was still in control, especially 
after his eagerness to turn a report in on a Saturday morning.

     "Hello, Mrs. Mulder.  I'm Michael Carrington."

     Mulder hid his grin at Scully's discomfort with being called Mrs. 
Mulder.  But he agreed with her.  He heard that and he started looking around 
for his mother.

     "It's nice to meet you, Agent Carrington," she said politely.

     "Oh, that's right.  Mulder said you taught at Quantico.  So do you 
prefer Agent Mulder or Dr. Mulder?"

     The look she shot Mulder almost had him laughing out loud.  "To avoid 
confusion, I still use Scully at the Bureau," she said and picked up her pace 
a little.

     Mulder tried to warn her it was useless, but she was actually 
listening to what Mike was telling her.  Mulder thought of the perfect way to 
get rid of the little leech.  He whispered the question in Josh's ear and 
waited for the inevitable.

     "Momma, we go G'an-ma's?" he asked as his father set him down.  He 
tugged at the big hand that completely covered his much smaller one, but Daddy 
wasn't going to let him run around any more than Momma did.

     Her eyes swung to meet the hazel ones of her son and then up to 
Mulder's.  She saw the plea in his and hid her amusement.  "As soon as we get 
to the car, kiddo.  And Grandma said she would have spaghetti for you."

     "Coo-ool."

     Mulder silently agreed and thanked Scully as Mike took the hint and 
went to get his own ride home.

     They were each buckling a kid in when she said, "That was low, Mulder. 
What if Mom hadn't already invited us?"

     "Maggie always says anytime," he said and stretched out in the 
passenger seat.

     "You're terrible sometimes," she responded, but he could hear the 
smile in her voice.  "He's that bad?"

     "He's that bad," he affirmed.

          * * end * *


     Josh and Nick were passed out in the backseat for the drive home.  
Mulder thought it was a safe time to bring up the subject.  "What did Skinner 
say?" he asked as he wearily rubbed his eyes.  The past three nights away from 
home had offered him little sleep and he felt like joining the kids in 
dreamland.

     "We're invited to his and Sharon's anniversary party."

     He groaned in misery.  "Who else is going to be there?"

     "No one else from the Bureau, if that's what you mean.  He said they 
wanted to keep it friendly."

     He knew she found his reluctance amusing, so he decided to explain 
himself.  "Do you know what it would do to my reputation if word got out I was 
friends with Skinner?"

     "You might get hooked up with a partner that was trying to brown-nose 
his way to the top?" she dead panned.  "Could he have been any more obvious?"

     "I don't think so.  Especially considering how he was acting the first 
day on the case.  The little shit actually pretended not to know who you are." 
And to prove that wasn't bad enough, he continued, "AND he pulled the picture 
of all of us out of my briefcase."

     "I wondered what had led to the discussion of us.  You're not exactly 
one to shout from the rooftops that you're married and have two kids."

     "Hey, I wear my ring," he argued and held up his hand to show her.

     "You know what I mean.  You waited every night to call after you were 
sure he was asleep."

     "Not really.  It just turned out that way.  I would go running to get 
away from him and it would be late when I got back.  And I kept forgetting 
about the time zones."

     "I believe that one, Mulder."  She did, though.  He was always so 
focused on a case that little else would penetrate his consciousness.  
"Anyway, Frohike e-mailed me right before I left work."

     "And you didn't tell me?"

     "I told him we would get a hold of him as soon as we got home.  How 
was I to know you would want to go to my mother's first?  And calling from 
there wouldn't have worked.  They wouldn't have recognized the address when 
they traced it."

     "I wouldn't be too sure about that.  It's the guys we're talking 
about.  Frohike," he explained unnecessarily.  "And your mother's was the only 
thing I could think of to get rid of what's-his-name.  If he had thought we 
were going right home, he would have tried to bum a ride.  I didn't even want 
to think about that possibility."

     "Mulder, why did Skinner finally assign you a partner after all this 
time?"

     He was watching the passing scenery and trying to think of an excuse. 
"Hmm..."

     "Because of me?  Because I helped you out on a few cases?"

     He could hear the hurt in her voice and turned to face her.  "No.  He 
said he didn't mind, but someone at Quantico had made a stink about it."

     "I make sure my work is done before I even look at the things you send 
over.  My supervisor shouldn't have had any complaints."

     "Skinner said it wasn't Thompson, either."

     "Then who?"

     "I don't know.  But he said it's promotion time and I got the 
impression you were up for one.  They didn't want some people to think you 
were getting promoted because of your continued work on the X-Files, I guess."

     "By some people you mean Harris.  He spends all day gossiping and 
sitting in other people's offices so he doesn't do any work himself.  And when 
someone points out he isn't pulling his weight, he bitches about the free time 
other people always seem to have."  She was quiet for a second.  "So how long 
do I have to stay out of them?"

     "I haven't a clue.  A couple of weeks maybe?"

     She nodded once and then asked, "So what are you going to do to get 
rid of *Mike*?"

     Mulder smiled as she said the name the same way he did.  "Nothing."

     "What do you mean?  I was looking forward to hearing your plans."

     "I'm going to be completely professional."  He tried to look wounded 
when she snorted in disbelief.  "Well, I am.  I figure if he pulls this shit 
with Skinner, he'll be the one to get rid of the as ... alien."  The last word 
was substituted as a small foot hit the back of his seat, letting the two in 
front know that little ears were listening.  "Anyway, he's not only 
close-minded, he's a bit on the stupid and prejudiced side."

     "You would be able to get rid of him faster if you pulled one of your 
little tricks," she said helpfully.

     "They never seemed to work on you," he said as he closed his eyes and 
used his best put-upon tone.  "Besides, I would be labeled uncooperative again 
and lose some of my autonomy.  I can ignore him for a few months."

     Her smile was soft as he faded off into sleep.

          * * * * *

     Mulder headed right for the phone after they had put the kids to bed, 
not really caring what time it was.  He pulled Scully down on the couch next 
to him as he waited for the office of The Lone Gunman to answer.  The machine 
picked up and Mulder exhaled a sigh of frustration.  The message was just long 
enough for the calls to be traced.

     "If you don't stop doing this to me, I'll give your number to some 
co-workers of mine," he said, more than half seriously.

     "Mulder?"  It was Frohike.

     "As you well know."  He braced himself for a wide range of news.  
"Dana said you contacted her."  He felt her amusement and grinned down at her. 
The only time he consistently called her Dana in the company of others was 
when he spoke to Frohike.  He couldn't help it.  The little weasel still tried 
to put the moves on her occasionally.

     "Yes.  It was about that project you wanted help on."

     "Don't keep us in suspense, Frohike.  What did you find?"

     "The lovely Agent Scully is listening?"

     Mulder rolled his eyes.  "She's sitting on my lap.  What did you find, 
Frohike?"

     Scully rolled her eyes and looked at the lap that she wasn't sitting 
on.  Mulder shrugged in apology and listened as Frohike said, "You want to 
discuss this over an open line?"

     "It's not like we're dealing with government secrets here.  It was 
just an address check."  Mulder downplayed it, just in case someone was doing 
a random listening in.

     "Sorry, Mulder.  Old paranoias die hard."

     "No.  They just fake their deaths and assume new identities."

     Frohike chuckled slightly before answering.  "It's legit."

     "OK."  He was unsure if he should feel triumphant about this 
possibility or terrified that he might actually get some answers.  "That's all 
we needed to know."

     Mulder was about to say goodbye when Frohike interrupted.  "Hey, I 
made some of my chocolate chip cookies, if you want to bring the boys by."

     He saw Scully's eyes widen in anticipation as Frohike's voice became 
loud enough over the phone for her to hear and he chuckled.  "Are you trying 
to steal my family away from me by showing your domestic side?"

     "Whatever will work, Mulder.  Anytime tomorrow afternoon would be 
fine."

     "That will depend on what time we actually get out of bed and get 
moving, Frohike.  I'll call you if we decide to drop by."  He hung up before 
Frohike could comment on the bed statement.  It was never a good idea to give 
him an opening line.

     "Cookies and an address.  Tomorrow looks like it's going to be a good 
day."

     Mulder wasn't really paying attention to what she said.  With 
everything else out of the way, he could now concentrate on the thought that 
had been plaguing him since they had been interrupted Tuesday morning by the 
dual alarm clocks in the other room.  "Dana?"

     Her smile was knowing as she said, "Hmm?"

     "Are you still on the antibiotics?"

     "Subtle, Mulder.  And yes, I am.  But I planned for that possibility." 
She stood up and extended her hand.

     "You did?" he asked and bent to nuzzle behind her ear.

     Her arms went around his neck and she pressed herself forward.  "Yes. 
And I got enough so that we could make up for lost time," she said against his 
lips.

     "Good.  Because that's exactly what I plan on doing."

          * * * * *

     By the time they did get moving, it was after a late lunch.  Saturday 
cartoons always played havoc with their plans.  Mulder could never pull 
himself away from his favorites, even if he had seen them all at least twice. 
 To justify it, he claimed that he was spending quality time with the boys.

     Scully admitted that it was partially true.  The three of them were 
pretty much in their own little world between seven and noon.  She didn't mind 
their absorption either.  It gave her time to herself to catch up on things 
missed during the week, or time to just soak in the tub without someone 
banging on the door, demanding her attention.

     Mulder waited patiently until she had emerged from the bathroom, 
swathed in her robe.  When she was sitting, brushing her wet hair, he said, 
"How long do you think it will be before we can look into that?"

     She shrugged.  "Depends on where it's at.  But we'll probably have to 
wait a few weeks.  I don't want to move too fast on any of this."  She looked 
pointedly at the bodies that were draped over him.

     "We can't wait too long though.  The address might change."

     "The guys can keep tabs on things from here.  Taking any time off 
again so soon will alert someone."

     He nodded his acceptance and knew they still had to be ultra-cautious. 
"I'll tell Frohike we'll be there around two."

     Josh's attention swung away from "The Ghost Who Walks" and he said, 
"Unka Froo?"

     Scully smiled at Josh's name for Frohike.  It served the little pest 
right to be saddled with something like that.  "Yep.  We're going to see Uncle 
Froo and he said he had chocolate chip cookies for you guys."

     That got Nick's attention, too, and he started clapping at the 
prospect.  She waited until a commercial before picking the baby up and taking 
him to the kitchen.  To get to Frohike's on time, she knew she better start 
the feeding and the bathing process now or they could forget the three hour 
time frame Mulder had placed them in.

          * * * * *

     Byers passed them a sheet of paper while Frohike took the boys into 
one of the other rooms that few people ever got to see.  There were two 
addresses on it.  One was for the daughter and one was for the granddaughter.

     "Julie Carson Donovan, the wife, died about five years ago from breast 
cancer.  The daughter, Angela Donovan Reynolds was adopted by the second 
husband when she was barely five years old and never made an attempt to 
contact Carson's relatives in the New England area.  The Donovans lived in San 
Jose for the past thirty years.  The granddaughter, Jessica, is going to 
school at Texas A&M."  Byers tone didn't say anything, but his look said he 
didn't really understand that one.  California to Texas?

     Mulder's look said it would be hard to justify a trip to the college.

     Scully's look said it wouldn't be any easier to justify San Jose.

     Langly's look said to stop ignoring the rest of the world and speak 
out loud.

     "We've searched everything.  There was never any mysterious increases 
in their bank accounts.  Their way of life was within the limits of their 
incomes.  Their jobs are legit.  If it's a coverup, it's good," Byers admitted 
with reluctant respect.

     Mulder nodded in acceptance.  "You mentioned relatives in New 
England?"

     "Mother and father, both deceased.  The mother died almost fifteen 
years ago and the father about three years after that.  There are some distant 
relatives but not ones they seemed to keep in contact with when they were 
alive."

     "Was there anything else on Richard Carson?" Scully asked.

     "Nothing beyond the article about the train wreck with a list of the 
passengers.  And anybody that would have known him while he was still an agent 
would be hard to track down."  Langly and Byers shared their own look before 
Byers continued, "But we'll get on it, if you think it would help."

     Mulder shook his head no.  The people that would have known Carson 
were retired and had been for a number of years.  Years before Cancerman had 
shown his face and made Mulder's life at the Bureau a bit more interesting.  
"Don't bother.  I'm sure you've fallen behind on your own work with helping us 
out."

     Langly nodded.  "I think there was a conspiracy or two that we missed 
in our last issue.  Some people are still complaining about it."  He said it 
with a quirky smile to let them know he was joking.

     "They probably think you've fallen prey to a government hit squad and 
are now being held captive, if not killed, by them, and that they've 
insinuated someone in your place to ferret out all of TLG's subscribers."

     Frohike clutched his heart as the woman of his dreams spouted a 
complex and paranoid scenario.  "You're probably right, Agent Scully.  And may 
I say, you're looking lovely today."

     She resisted the urge to look down at the pants and shirt she was 
wearing.  It was still hot outside, but there was no way she was going to wear 
shorts in Frohike's presence.  "You already have," she pointed out and 
accepted the bag of cookies he passed to her.  She eyed the plastic 
distrustfully and shared a look with Mulder.  She turned her attention back to 
Frohike and said, "I will be serving some more of these to my children."

     "Oh, I have another bag for Josh and Nick.  I made that batch 
especially for you."

     Now she was really worried.  "Thanks, but we don't need two bags, 
Frohike.  One will be plenty."  She was definitely not going to eat any of the 
delicious looking things in the bag he had already given her.  Not with it 
being a special batch just for her.  God only knows what he might have done to 
them.

     "Dana's right, Frohike.  Thanks, but the boys don't need that much 
sugar."  Mulder knew what she was thinking and he had the same idea.  He 
wouldn't put it past the man to put something in the cookies.

     Frohike knew he had been outmaneuvered and gracefully gave in.  "I'll 
just freeze these for another time then," he offered sincerely.

     She felt a shiver run through her at the thought, but she offered a 
small smile anyway.  He was sweet in a repulsive sort of way sometimes.

     "We'll keep an eye on things and make sure there isn't any suspicious 
actions on their part," Frohike offered as they started gathering their 
things.

     Scully paused as she shouldered the diaper bag and stopped Nick from 
pulling the plug on Langly's computer.  She had no idea what possessed her, 
but she reached out and squeezed Frohike's arm.  "Thank you," she said softly.

     Mulder thought his friend was going to go into convulsions, but he 
understood.  She still managed to disarm him with her mere presence and he had 
been fighting his instinctive, and sometimes embarrassing,  reaction to her 
for more than eight years.  But unlike Frohike, he could act on those 
feelings.  "Thanks," he echoed and followed her out the door.

          * * * * *

     Mulder sat in the little room and contemplated the end of the world.  
He kept his features impassive with just a hint of arrogance though.  There 
was no way he wanted the two military goons that were watching him to know he 
was worried.  They would mistakenly think it was them he feared.

     But it wasn't.

     He feared something greater and more powerful than they could ever 
even hope to achieve to be. 

     He feared Dana Scully-Mulder.

     Shit.

     He was toast.

     "So do you two witness UFO sightings often?"  They ignored him again. 
"I guess if the base is responsible for the aircrafts, they're not really 
Unidentified, are they?"  Mulder wasn't even sure if they were breathing.  He 
did know that they could move though.  Ever time he shifted insolently in his 
seat, their eyes would track every muscle that twitched.  He continued with 
the questions and the comments, hoping for some kind of reaction.  Anything to 
make this trip worth the trouble he was going to be in with his wife.

     He had missed Josh's first day of preschool for this.

     Skinner was going to have a conniption.

     Carrington would finally ask for a transfer.  (But that would be a 
good thing.)

     Scully was going to kill him.

     And maybe, just maybe, Cancerman would come out of the woodwork again.

     That last thought was the one that had prompted this flight into past 
recklessness.  There had been no sign of the man since shortly before they had 
started looking into his father's abduction.  No sight.  No sound.  No smell. 
The complete and utter lack of anything had made him nervous.

     Had the old man finally died?

     And if so, who was his current watchdog?

     His best defense had always been knowing, if not who his enemy was, at 
least what he looked like.  Now he wasn't sure if they even had that.

     The sound of a door screeching open ended his internal musings and his 
external smartass remarks.  A major from earlier was leading a large man in a 
trenchcoat directly to him.  The light from the bare bulbs reflected off the 
bald head and told him who it was before they were near enough for him to 
distinguish the features of the AD.  When they did get close enough, Mulder 
almost wished the military hadn't contacted anyone about him, that they had 
quietly disposed of his body.

     Mulder hadn't seen the man's jaw that tight in years, at least not 
when it came to his actions.  He had forgotten what it was like to really be 
on the man's Shit List.

     "Hello, sir.  Glad you could join us.  I think they were just about to 
serve dinner."  The last was a bit of wishful thinking as his stomach growled.

     "Agent Mulder, you are being released into my custody.  But charges of 
trespassing, breaking and entering, and destruction of government property are 
being brought against you."

     /Shit.  Shit.  Shit.  Shit.  Shit./  Out loud, he said, "That's all?"

     The major and Skinner both looked like they were going to need a 
crowbar to unclench their jaws.  "Agent Mulder, the Air Force feels it is 
being generous in the leniency of the charges against you."

     The Air Force might feel it was being lenient, but Scully was going to 
go for his balls.  He opened his mouth and was stopped before his vocal cords 
even started to vibrate.

     "Let's go, Agent Mulder."

     He felt like Dad had come to pick him up from the principal's office 
as he quietly followed him out of the building and to the car.  If the guilt 
was this bad with Skinner, how the hell was he going to make it through the 
scene with Scully?

     "Sir --"

     "Save it, Mulder.  I don't want to hear it."

     Shit.

          * * end * *


     It was bad.  It was really bad.

     Skinner dropped him off at the apartment and said the first words to 
him in over three hours.  "I want you in my office first thing tomorrow, Agent 
Mulder."

     He got out of the car with a nod and slowly made his way to their 
apartment.  He almost expected the locks to have been changed, but his key 
turned easily and he opened the door.  He knew she was up.  He had seen the 
light from the street and her shadow pacing in front of it.  He softly closed 
the door behind him and opened his mouth.

     "Scully --"

     "Ssshhh.  I just got him to sleep," she whispered and indicated the 
sleeping baby in her arms.

     Mulder felt another large wave of guilt wash over him as he realized 
Nick's cold must have gotten worse.  He shucked his light jacket and unclipped 
his empty gun holster.  He marveled at his brilliance when he realized all the 
paperwork this little escapade was going to generate and turned to sit down on 
the couch.  At the last second he had to change directions as the small form 
of Josh curled up in the cushions registered.

     "He has been waiting all day for you.  He wanted to tell you all about 
school."

     Mulder nodded numbly and brushed Josh's hair away from his forehead.  
The phrase "I'm sorry" was stuck behind a large lump in his throat.  He looked 
up at her not sure what to say.

     "Did you at least find what you were looking for?"

     "No.  They had moved it all already," he said when he finally found 
his voice.

     "If it was ever there at all.  Mulder --" She stopped abruptly and 
shifted Nick in her arms.  Her voice had started to rise and was pulling the 
baby from his uneasy sleep.  "We'll talk about this later," she said in a 
softer voice.

     He nodded.  Maybe by then he would have a well thought out reason for 
going off like that and not telling anyone.  But he doubted it.

     He carefully gathered Josh up and headed towards the bedroom.  Mulder 
laid him down and turned to go back into the living room to help with Nick if 
he could.

     "Daddy?"

     "Hmm?" he asked and squatted down next to the bed.  He was knocked a 
little off balance as Josh launched himself out of bed.  He wound his arms 
around the small body and said, "Hey, it's OK."

     "Momma scared."

     He twisted to sit on the bed and cupped Josh's head.  "She was worried 
about me," he tried to explain.

     "Momma sad, too."

     This wasn't the first time that Josh had known what one of his parents 
was feeling and it almost scared him.  The manifestation of psychic ability 
had always been one of his strongest beliefs.  But this was his little boy he 
was talking about.  He didn't want his proof in the form of his child.

     "Daddy?"

     "Ssshh.  It's OK.  Go to sleep and you can tell me all about school in 
the morning."

     Josh nodded but didn't let go of his neck.  Mulder held him until he 
fell back asleep and then gently finished loosening the slack hold.  Josh 
twisted a little and Mulder reached for the new Marvin the Martian.  This one 
held a ray-gun instead of a baby bottle (I too big for bottle), but was again 
from "Misser Skin."  Josh clutched it close and stayed asleep.  Mulder sat 
there for another minute before he tried to go to the living room again.

     Scully looked up from the sleeping baby with impassive features.  She 
was sitting in the rocking chair her mother had given them when Josh was born 
and kept a slow steady pace.

     "Dana," he began softly and almost flinched when her eyebrow raised.  
"I really thought I had something," he said as he sat down.

     "Then why the cloak and dagger, Mulder?  Why didn't you tell me you 
were going or at least take Carrington with you?"

     He faced a major flaw in his slight prevarications.  "I didn't want 
you to worry."  He did flinch at the eyebrow this time.  It had sounded good 
in his head.  "Can we talk about this later?" he asked defensively.

     "Sure, Mulder."

     He stood up and went to wash away the grime from two days of running 
through the woods and an all-night stakeout.  His stomach rumbled again to 
remind him it had almost been that long since he had eaten, but he didn't want 
to go into the kitchen to get some food.  Going into the kitchen meant facing 
Scully again.

     //You're being a coward.//

     \\Yep.\\

     //She doesn't seem that mad.//

     \\You're a fool.  She's furious.  And hurt.  And probably still a 
little bit scared.\\

     //Come on.  It's Scully we're talking about.  Your partner.  She'll 
just give that little smile and accept it.  She knows it's part of who you 
are.//

     \\That's Dana in there taking care of our sick son.  God, the last 
time I pulled something like this we were barely talking to each other and she 
still worried about me.  I could hear it in her voice when I told her how much 
time was left on the timer.\\

     //She loved you then.  She loves you now.  It won't be any 
different.//

     \\Remind me of that when she flinches away from my touch because she 
can't stand the thought of being hurt like that again.\\

     //She won't use sex against you to get what she wants.//

     \\No, but she'll retreat behind her walls.  And it's going to take a 
lot to get past them again.\\

     He vigorously rubbed the towel through his hair.  When that didn't 
stop his thoughts, he attacked his face with it.  It still didn't help.  The 
little voices inside his head kept arguing.  The one was trying to justify his 
actions and the other was reminding him that it was his wife he had ditched 
this time, not just a partner he had been reluctantly saddled with.

     He went into the bedroom, determined to ignore the argument still 
raging within him.  He stopped cold as he spotted the plate of food sitting on 
the dresser.

     //See.  Told ya.  She's your partner.//

     \\Dammit.  She should be yelling at me, not accepting my actions and 
taking care of me.\\

     //You want her to be pissed?//

     \\You want to go back to the way things were then?  You want to go 
back to that dark apartment and the loneliness and the constant nightmares?  
She's not your partner anymore.  She won't be in the basement tomorrow, 
waiting and silently supporting you as Skinner rips you a new asshole.\\

     //She won't leave you.  She loves you.//

     \\And she's strong enough to go on without me if it comes down to 
it.\\

     That shut both voices up.

     He pulled on a pair of shorts and picked up the plate to take into the 
other room with him.  She had put Nick in his bed, but the door was slightly 
ajar in case he woke up again.  She was giving him space, but, dammit, he 
didn't want it.

     All but one light was out and she was curled up in the same corner of 
the couch that Josh had occupied earlier.  He sat down at her feet and started 
munching on the roast beef sandwich she had made for him.  When his stomach 
stopped trying to fold in on itself, he slowed down and turned to her.

     "I did it mainly to draw Cancerman out."

     She looked at him with unfathomable eyes, but didn't say anything.

     "I don't know why I didn't tell you."  That wasn't entirely true.  He 
knew she wouldn't have wanted him to do it.

     "Did you once think I would agree with the plan?"

     "No."

     "Why not?"

     "Because it was reckless.  It was idiotic, almost juvenile."

     "Mulder --"

     "They're going to press charges," he said quietly.

     "Then it will be easier to get away to check out the granddaughter."

     "Before or after I get out of Leavenworth?"

     She closed her eyes and put her chin on her knees.  "What exactly do 
they have you on?"

     "Trespassing, B&E, and then there was an incident with a jeep and a 
security post."

     "Do I want to hear about it?"

     "Actually, it's kinda funny."

     "Mulder... I would have gone along with the idea."

     His head fell forward.  "Aren't you going to chew me out?"

     She frowned.  "You want me to?"

     He nodded.  "It would make me feel better," he admitted.

     A small smile played on her lips.  "Well, I don't feel like yelling, 
Mulder.  I just want to go to sleep."

     "You've been up since five this morning, haven't you."

     "Try yesterday morning.  I didn't get any sleep last night."

     "Nick's been that sick?"

     "No, Mulder.  He's just been cranky with a fever and stuffed up nose. 
I didn't sleep because I was worried about you."

     "Oh."  He stood up and took the plate into the kitchen.  He even 
rinsed it before he put it in the dishwasher and realized how much he had 
really changed in the past four years.  He went back into the living room and 
offered his hand.  "Come on, Scully.  I need my rest for the meeting with 
Skinner tomorrow."

     He pulled her to her feet and he saw the frown wrinkle her brow.  "You 
know, Mulder, the only thing I don't like about this whole thing is that I 
can't yell at you, even if I wanted to.  It would wake the boys up."

     "You could go into Hoover with me tomorrow," he offered a little more 
than half seriously.

     "And get to you before or after Skinner has taken a chunk out of you?"

     "Whenever."

     "I think I will stop by for lunch," she said as she crawled under the 
covers.  "Maybe by that time, my relief over your relative OK'ness will have 
settled into anger at being ditched."

     He was quiet for several minutes before he curled around her and 
softly asked, "You really would have gone along with the plan?"

     "Yeah.  But I would have made sure there was an escape plan, too," she 
said just as softly and pulled his arm tighter around her and tangled her feet 
with his calves.

          * * * * *

     "Have a seat, Agent Mulder."

     /At least I get to be comfortable during this./

     "Would you care to tell me why you found it necessary to trespass on 
that base?"

     He didn't even get the pleasure of choking on second hand smoke.  
Damn.  "I had information suggesting the base was responsible for several of 
the recent disturbances in the area."

     "You HAD information?"

     "Yes, sir.  The photographs and transcripts were confiscated when I 
was taken into custody."

     "What?"

     "They claimed it was a matter of national security."

     "And why weren't these items kept in a safer place?"

     "Because they would have found a way to get rid of the evidence no 
matter what, sir.  I've learned it's easier to just keep the stuff on me 
instead of worrying that innocent people may be injured in a hotel fire."

     Skinner nodded once in acceptance.  "Agent Mulder, I'm going to have 
to place you on suspension until this matter is cleaned up.  I doubt all 
charges will be dropped, but the Bureau is going to do their best to reduce 
them, so this won't appear on your civilian record."

     /Suspended.  Damn./  He hadn't thought about that.  He nodded and 
stood up.  With a large amount of reluctance, he handed over his badge.

     "And your weapon?"

     "Confiscated, sir."

     Again, Skinner nodded.  "You are only suspended from field duty.  You 
still have to file your report and process the paperwork for the lost gun, the 
impounded Bureau vehicle, and anything else that was lost or stolen on this 
case."

     "Yes, sir."  He now had weeks ahead of him with nothing to do but 
paperwork.  Something he always looked forward to.  But now he could also get 
away to Texas with the least amount of hassle.

     "And, Agent Mulder."

     /Shit.  There go my travel plans./   "Yes, sir?"

     "It's been requested that you not leave the area until this is 
settled."

     He would definitely have to skip Texas now.  "Yes, sir."

     "Dismissed."

     /Ouch.  That hurt./   "Sir?"  Mulder almost had to screw his courage 
up to silently motion to the empty chair by the empty ashtray.

     "Yes, Agent Mulder?"  He shrugged and shook his head in confusion.

     "I was just wondering if you noticed how clean the empty hangar was."

     Skinner's demeanor underwent a softening.  "No, Agent Mulder.  I did 
not," he said out loud but nodded yes to the statement.

     "Yes, sir," he said again and left.

     Mulder was brooding as he made his way down to the basement.  An 
undetermined amount of time to be spent on paperwork alone.  It would probably 
drag into months as the two bureaucratic giants battled it out and sacrificed 
the lives of many innocent trees.  And for what?  Cancerman hadn't been at the 
meeting.  MIB's hadn't been at the base.  And it was probably the only airbase 
in the US that was legitimately testing experimental manmade aircraft.  That 
would explain the frequency of the crashes.

     But it also confirmed the growing suspicion that he had.  

     Cancerman was either dying or already dead.

     He would call the guys at lunch and have them start looking for the 
needle in the haystack.  Who knew.  Maybe one of these times, it wouldn't take 
months to get a solid lead for one of his ideas.

          * * * * *

     "So?" she asked as she sat down on the park bench next to him.

     "Suspension until the thing goes to trial."

     "Full or half?"

     "Three quarters, if there's such a thing.  I have to finish the 
paperwork for this case, but Skinner didn't mention anything beyond that."

     She nodded and accepted the plastic wrapped sandwich he handed her.  
"Chicken salad from the cafeteria?  You went all out, Mulder."

     "With me on suspension, we're going to have to watch our spending," he 
said around a four-dollar burger that was worth maybe twenty cents.

     "So when are we going to Texas?"

     "Can't," he said with a shake of his head.  At her raised eyebrow, he 
continued, "I've been told not to leave the area."

     "And?"

     "And there was no sign of him.  I'm going to have the guys start 
looking into it."

     "How?  We don't have a name."

     "But we have a description and a possible diagnosis."

     "You think he's in the hospital?"

     "Or dead," he agreed.

     They finished the rest of their lunch in silence.  Scully broke it as 
they were putting their trash in the bag Mulder had brought their lunch in.

     "I got the promotion."

     "That's great.  So what does it mean job wise?"

     "More paperwork, less teaching.  Unlike you, I'll actually have people 
in my division."

     "Hey, I have myself and Carrington."

     "So is he "dickweed" or "brown-nose" this week?"

     "I don't know.  I haven't seen him.  Hopefully, I can keep it that 
way."  His hand lingered at the small of her back as they walked to her car.  
"You still haven't yelled at me," he offered as an opening.

     "I think you're doing a pretty good job of it yourself."

     "I had visions of you leaving me," he said softly, confirming her 
statement.

     "Unlike some people I know, I don't ditch my partner, Mulder."

     He clutched his chest in pain.  "I'll apologize to Mike."

     "You'll apologize to me and you'll apologize to your son, Mulder."

     She was definitely angry now.  He shouldn't have joked about it.  "I 
am sorry, Scully.  And I'll make it up to Josh," he promised.

     The downtrodden look was back on his face and her features softened.  
"Mulder, I understand."

     "I should still have told you.  That note was a coward's way."

     She didn't agree or disagree.  "I have to go.  I'll see you at home." 
She stretched to reach the lips that were lowering to hers.  "Try not to get 
into any more trouble before then," she ordered.

     "I love you, too," he said as she closed the door and started the car. 
He stood and watched as she exited the parking lot and pulled into the traffic 
headed towards Quantico.  With great reluctance, he headed back to the Hoover 
building and the rest of the paperwork that was waiting for him.


     He figured because something good had come out of his little escapade 
he could start working on making his disappearance up to his family.

     Mike had been transferred.  Not only was he not coming back to the 
X-Files when Mulder's suspension was over, he wasn't even coming back to DC.  
And it wasn't because of Mulder.  Mike was getting married and his future wife 
taught at a small school in the middle of nowhere, more nowhere than their 
first case in Wyoming.  He was going to be stationed there because the 
university had a nuclear reactor and the current agent was retiring.  Mulder 
had no clue what Mike would be doing besides backgrounds, but Mulder didn't 
really care either.

     So because he was happy about that, and because he couldn't handle 
anymore paperwork, he went home.  There was almost two weeks worth of 
dry-cleaning that needed to be taken to the store, some that had to be picked 
up, regular laundry that needed to be done, groceries that needed to be 
bought, and a million other little things that had piled up during his absence 
and Nick's illness.

     His paperwork-only restriction might also be in his favor for a few 
other reasons.  He wouldn't need to be in the office all day for that and he 
could spend some of the time with the guys tracking down leads on Cancerman.  
Plus, Josh wouldn't have to go to the babysitter's for the half-days twice a 
week he was in school now.  The grandmotherly woman they had hired was a 
friend of Mrs. Scully's that had just moved a few minutes from them and she 
had jumped at the idea when Maggie had suggested it.  After some paranoid 
background checks with promises from the guys to keep an eye on things, too, 
they had both agreed on her.  But with him on suspension, that wouldn't be 
necessary.

     Scully figured what was up as soon as she opened the door and partook 
of the smells coming from the kitchen.  There really was no comparison to 
coming home to a clean house with dinner on the table and a long soak in the 
foreseeable future.  Especially after a very long week, a long day at work and 
an even longer car ride with two cranky children during rush hour.

     The boys rushed into the kitchen as soon as she let go of them and she 
followed a little more slowly.  She saw that the computer was on and that he 
had been talking to the guys.  And according to the last message on the 
screen, he was going to be helping with the search for Cancerman's physical 
whereabouts.  She agreed with him wholeheartedly on the subject.  It was more 
comforting to know who their watchdog was and who they had to keep an eye out 
for than to be completely ignorant of who was watching them.

     "Hi."

     "Hey," he said in return.  "I know it was your turn to cook, but I 
hope you don't mind," he said and set Josh back on his feet after greeting 
him.  He put Nick in the highchair and gave him a sippy cup of juice.

     "You know how much I love to slave over a hot stove.  I'll have to put 
you in the doghouse for this."

     "As long as you keep me company.  But who will watch the kids?" he 
asked and started to nuzzle her neck

     Before she could answer, a little voice popped up.  "Daddy, stop 
kissin' my Momma."

     Josh had definitely become possessive of his mother lately, Mulder 
reflected with a groan.  Scully laughed softly in his ear and he let her go.  
"We have to get him past this stage," he mourned.

     "Well, you can start working on it when you pick him up from school on 
Thursday," she said and headed back into the other room.

     "How do you find these things out so quickly?"

     "Mrs. Henderson mentioned it when I picked Josh up.  She also said she 
would be happy to start watching Nick too as soon as he was potty trained."

     "He's going to learn this weekend."

     She grinned at his emphatic statement.  "Tired of changing diapers, 
Mulder?  And you wanted another one."

     "Hey, I only said that 'cause I thought you were pregnant again," he 
stated.

     "Again?  You make it sound like it's happened every year or 
something."

     "Well, Nick is almost a year and a half old.  That's how old Josh was 
when you got pregnant with him."  He shrugged and followed her out of the 
kitchen.

     "You're right."  She paused for a moment and Mulder became worried.  
"OK, no sex until you get fixed."

     "Neither of those choices is optional.  I already told you that."  He 
pulled her to him again and bent her back over his arm.  Her eyes were 
sparkling with humor and his darkened.  Slowly he lowered his head.

     "Daddy!  Stop!  My Momma!"

     He rested his forehead against hers and slowly straightened.  "More 
effective than any other means of birthcontrol on the market," he muttered.  
He stepped away from her and bent to pick up the child that started squealing 
as he tried to avoid his father's tickling fingers.  "Listen you, how do you 
think she got to be your momma?"

     Scully's voice echoed down the hall.  "That's Josh you're talking to, 
Mulder.  Remember he was the modern medicine one."

     "That's what you think."

     She returned a few minutes later in casual clothes and asked, "Huh?"

     "What do you think I was thinking about in that little room?"

     "*Debbie Does Dallas*?"

     "Nope.  Didn't use a tape."

     Her cheeks flamed and she hurried into the kitchen.  "So what did you 
think about?" she tried to ask nonchalantly as she unnecessarily stirred some 
of the pots on the stove.

     He leaned down to whisper, "I'll tell you later."

     "Stop," Josh said from his upside down position and used his mother's 
body to righten himself again.

     "Definitely later," she agreed and set the twisting body back on the 
floor.

          * * * * *

     Mulder wanted to hit something.  He wanted to throw the computer 
across the room and let out a howl of rage.  But he didn't.  For several 
reasons.  One was the small boy playing in the corner.  Two, it wasn't his 
computer.  Three, he would have to clean up the mess.  And four, he didn't 
have LSD laced water as an excuse for his loss of control.

     "We'll find something eventually, man," Langly said from the computer 
next to him.

     "It's not going to be in this century," he muttered.

     "Well, since we've started the new one, it is possible."

     "Shut up, Frohike."

     "Cheer up, Mulder.  At least he isn't blowing smoke in your face."

     "Call me paranoid, but that doesn't exactly sit well with me."  The 
ringing of his cellular phone wasn't welcome, even though he knew who it 
probably was.  "Mulder," he barked.

     "It's nice to hear from you, too."

     "Hi, Dana."

     "God, you're with Frohike, aren't you?"

     "Yep.  What's up?"

     "I have to attend a pathologist's conference in two weeks."

     "Oooo.  Sounds fun.  Whatever will you talk about?"

     "I talked to Skinner.  You can go with me."

     "And what would I do to occupy myself while you are discussing dead 
bodies with a bunch of lab trolls?"

     "Drive about a hundred miles to College Station."

     He bit his tongue before "Scully" passed his lips.  "Dana, where is 
your talk?"

     "Houston."  He could hear her smile cross the airwaves.  "Are you 
game?  I have to make hotel arrangements today.  If you don't go, I'll have to 
share with one of the other pathologists from the department."

     "And the boys?"

     "I was going to ask Mom to watch them if you want to tag along or they 
can go too.  If we bring them, you could take them to NASA.  So are you game?"

     "Dana, I'll follow you anywhere," he promised.

     "I'll believe it when I see it, Mulder.  I'll go ahead and put your 
name down on the travel vouchers then."

     "I'll start getting more information on this end then.  I'll see you 
at home."

     "Yeah.  I gotta go or I'll end up staying late again."

     Mulder ended the connection in a much better mood.  Seeing Frohike 
hovering over his shoulder almost made it do a 180, though.  "What?"

     "You don't tell her you love her?"

     "All the time, Frohike.  But not when I know you're hanging on every 
word."

     "Hmph," he replied and went back to work on sorting through a stack of 
satellite photos.

     Mulder grinned and started making plans.

          * * * * *

     He picked up the carry-on and waited as Scully closed the file she was 
reading and put it in her briefcase.  She looked up at him with a question in 
her eyes and he nodded once to let her know he was OK.  They moved in tandem 
down the walkway and unto the plane.

     "We have seats together?"

     "That's what happens when you make reservations more than a day in 
advance, Mulder."

     "I never knew," he replied in awe.

     She shook her head at his demented humor and scrunched herself into 
the middle seat.  With the unknown person on her other side, she was going to 
have to fight Mulder for the armrest and she knew he would use dirty tactics 
in the war.

     Halfway into the flight, she ended the silence.  "There's a tour for 
the spouses that will be going to Johnson's Space Center tomorrow at one."

     He looked over the rim of his glasses at her and smirked.  "I've seen 
it already."

     "Oh, well.  Then I'll call Dave and tell him you're not coming."

     "Dave?"

     She could see him going through his memory banks, searching for the 
name and/or the reference to NASA.  "A friend of mine from undergrad."

     "You mean I can get a behind the scenes tour?"

     "I thought I told you that already.  I was going to have lunch with 
the two of you and then he was going to show you some of the more unusual 
places."

     "You think they might have a fallen angel there?"

     "Only in the form of you, Mulder."

     "Hey," he protested.  "What exactly are you calling me?" he asked in 
confusion.

     "That does have many layers to it, doesn't it?  You figure it out, 
Mulder."

     "Yeah, I'll go.  Wednesday is when I was planning on going for that 
other tour, anyway."

     "Thank you for telling me, Mulder."

     "I did."

     "When?" she asked incredulous.

     "Just now," he admitted with an innocent smile.

     "I can't wait until Josh and Nick start pulling that trick."

     "What trick?"

     "You'll see," she promised.

     "I can ground them if they do."

     "Like Skinner does with you?"

     He frowned in defeat.  "If that doesn't work, I can always pull the 
guilt trip thing."

     "I don't pull a guilt trip thing."

     "I never said you did," he said in triumph and went back to reading 
the parapsychology journal.

          * * * * *

     Mulder drove down the highway and let the early morning air clear his 
mind.  He didn't know what he expected to find with this little trip, but he 
knew he at least had to see Jessica Reynolds.  He couldn't imagine a 
descendant of Cancerman as being human.  That would mean he had been one once. 
And maybe.  Just maybe.  The old man had become sentimental and had contacted 
her.

     When he got to the school, she had already left for her morning 
classes.  He spent a little time talking with one of her friends, trying to 
see if she had been contacted by anyone resembling Cancerman's description.  
She wasn't very helpful and Mulder went to walk around the campus after 
leaving his cellular number.  He thought about contacting the registrar's 
office for her schedule, but that would require his badge.  It would also 
alert certain parties (like Skinner) if they called to verify it.  He also 
thought about contacting the guys to get it for him, but two of them were on 
an out of town on a "top secret" mission.  Mulder wasn't sure if he wanted to 
know what it was.

     He walked around the campus and even checked out the library to see if 
they had a book he had been meaning to look up for research reasons.  He tried 
contacting her after lunch when he hadn't heard from her by then.  This time a 
different voice told him that she was working at the hospital.  Mulder spent a 
few minutes trying to find out which one and how to get to it.  He finally 
caught up with her around three o'clock.

          * * * * *

     He floated in and out of awareness with frustrating irregularity.  He 
knew he shouldn't be here, but the opportunity had been difficult to pass up. 
He amended the thought and substituted impossible.  If it had only been 
difficult, he wouldn't be here.

     The entire situation made him feel weak, powerless, out of control.  
It was not something he was used to experiencing.  But he still had one thing 
in his power.  They didn't know where he was.  No one knew.  And what they 
didn't know couldn't be used against him.  He fluctuated between contacting 
them or just accepting the pain and the fear.  Then he would think about the 
price he would have to pay if they did find out where he was.  It wouldn't be 
his price alone now and he was finding it difficult to continue down any road.

     He closed his eyes and felt the machines force air and fluids into 
him.  He could almost feel each individual drop of the IV as it made its way 
into his veins.  But the air moving in and out of his lungs was a different 
story.  That feeling was more of a memory than an experience.

     The shape shifter had been right when he said that he had lung cancer. 
He had been around things like that too long to completely disregard the 
prophetic words.  So he had gone to a doctor, one his "friends" didn't know 
about.  He had used an identity that he had set up and kept hidden for almost 
forty years and he had been diagnosed.  He was told he had maybe five years 
left.

     The decision had been easy really.  Die or let them control him for an 
eternity.  Going to them for help would make him a tool instead of a player.  
He had lived too long as a player to go back to being a tool.  He chose to 
die.

     But in choosing to die, he had fallen prey to a human weakness.  He 
had thought of the name he had left behind.  He wanted to know that he would 
live on somehow.  The general public would never know of what he had done for 
the past several decades and he would become a vague memory to Skinner, Scully 
and Mulder.  But being a memory wasn't enough.  He wanted to know that he 
would live on.  That at least a part of him would live on.

     Jessica Marie Reynolds.

     For months, he had known he was nearing the end and three weeks ago, 
he knew he was almost past the point where even they could help him.  He 
thought it would be simple.  A quick flight.  A short drive.  A few seconds 
just looking at her.  But the flight had been long.  The drive had been hard. 
And the few seconds came once or twice a day now, depending on her schedule.

     It had been pretty damn stupid of him to collapse in a fucking 
hospital.

     He wanted to give a philosophical shrug, but his muscles refused to 
follow his commands, much like the people involved in the X-Files.  As his 
thoughts turned to Mulder, he wasn't surprised to hear his voice.  He had been 
seeing the man in shadows and hearing his voice in his head for years.

     He sometimes wondered if Bill Mulder had encouraged his son to join 
the FBI as a form of revenge for what had necessarily been done to Samantha 
Mulder.

          * * * * *

     Mulder tried to hide his reaction as one of the nurses pointed to the 
candy-striper headed straight for them.  She was so ... normal.  He could 
barely process the information.  She was young, healthy, and looked like she 
had never even tried a cigarette.  Sure, smoking wasn't EVIL, but...  Bringing 
himself back to the present, he showed Jessica a picture of Cancerman.  It 
wasn't an actual photo, but one the guys at TLG had helped him produce.  
Digitally aged enhanced, the 1970 photo became thirty years older.

     "Have you seen him?"

     She took the photo and eyed it carefully.  "I'm not really sure.  I 
mean, I see a lot of people come in and out of here, but he does kinda look 
familiar."  She got a curious look in her eyes.  "What has he done?  Did he 
kill someone?"

     Mulder gave a reassuring smile.   /Not that I can prove./  "It's 
nothing that melodramatic.  I just need to ask him some questions.  Are you 
positive you haven't seen him?"

     "I'm not sure.  Really.  I rotate around the hospital, so it's not 
like I'm even in one area all the time."

     "He wouldn't have been a patient.  But someone probably would have 
asked him to stop smoking in the hospital."

     "We do get a few of those.  And they don't realize it isn't just a 
social issue.  A few weeks ago, the head nurse, Julie, had to tell someone to 
stop, right as he was lighting up.  He looked like he was going to ignore her, 
but then he put it away.  Funny thing, he's still here."

     Mulder frowned.  "As a patient?"  Cancerman wouldn't still be here.  
Unless he didn't care if his granddaughter was brought to the attention of his 
little group.

     "Well, now he is.  I don't know why he was here before, but he 
collapsed right in the middle of the hall while I was on duty.  Scared the 
sh... stuffing out of me.  The guy was kinda creepy.  All beady eyes.  He 
sorta looked like your guy in the photo, but this one's way older."  She 
looked at her watch.  "I have to go.  I need to take someone to X-ray.  But 
like I said, if you ask one of the nurses, they might recognize him.  Tammy 
especially remembers faces."

     "Thanks," he said as she hurried off.  He put the photo in his pocket 
and reviewed his options.  Jessica had been confused as to why Mulder had 
contacted her instead of one of the nurses.  He couldn't really tell her that 
the man had probably been watching her from the shadows.

     Mulder fingered the badge he had in his coat pocket.  It was an older 
one that he had reported lost.  And it had been.  He found it while he was 
packing up his old apartment when he first moved in with Scully.  She had put 
it away somewhere and had no trouble locating it almost four years and an 
apartment move later.  She was so organized it was nauseating sometimes.  If 
he used the badge to gain information while he was on suspension and they 
found out, it could make things even worse for him.  But he had a feeling and 
the nurse probably wouldn't tell him anything without the badge.

     Indeed, she didn't want to answer his questions without ID.  And he 
couldn't change his story from the one he had told Jessica Reynolds either.  
They were bound to compare notes and that would cast even more suspicion on 
his actions.

     She studied the picture Mulder handed her.  "He does resemble one of 
our current patients.  But the man has been very ill and looks much older.  
Could you tell me his name?"

     Mulder debated and ended up saying, "He may be using the name Richard 
Carson."

     "Close, but no cigar.  The patient's name is Carson Richards."  
Something in his face must have shown his surprise, because the nurse asked 
hesitantly, "Do you think it may be the same man?"

     "Would it be possible to speak with him?"  If the man was in ICU, the 
hospital would want to verify his ID and if he had to go through any more 
security checks, the Bureau would become aware of what he was doing.  And so 
would the other people he wanted to keep uninformed.

     "I don't see why not.  But if you don't mind, I would like to remain 
in the room.  In case he becomes agitated."

     Mulder nodded.  "Agitated" wouldn't begin to describe Cancerman's 
reaction at being found if he was in hiding.



     He knew he was being watched and that the watcher was not friendly.  
He cautiously opened his eyes to just slits.  The room was empty, though.  
Maybe it had just been one of the nurses.  He had been watched for so long by 
hostile, sometimes deadly, eyes that he felt them even when he was alone.

     The door opened and a young woman stepped into the room.  "Hello, Mr. 
Richards.  Is there anything I can get for you?"

     He didn't even try to smile.  For one, the muscles needed for the feat 
no longer worked and she wouldn't be able to see it behind the oxygen mask 
anyway.  "No thank you ... Jessica.  I'm fine."

     "I was serious about the offer yesterday, Mr. Richards.  I can pick up 
a book or two for you at the library.  I know you don't watch TV that much."

     "Again, thank you, but no.  I wouldn't want to impose."

     "It honestly wouldn't be one.  If you think I'm just giving you 
special treatment, I'm not.  I've got a deal going with the library.  I 
actually get people to read their books and I get five percent of the 
profits."

     "Motivation I understand," he said honestly.  "Fine.  Something on 
Kennedy, then."  She had been asking him almost every day for a week.

     "You don't want anything a little more modern?"

     He shook his head and she left with a smile.  She wasn't a bad kid.  
Considering he was part of her gene pool.  He thought about her question.  
With most of the time constraints gone, new things kept coming to light.  Not 
a single one had been accurate, so far, though.  "You would be amazed how 
modern that period still is," he said to the empty room.

     He closed his eyes again, but kept them open just enough to see if 
anything moved in the room.  That was how he usually slept.  When he wasn't 
being fed painkillers he didn't want.  No one on staff would reduce it any 
more than they already had without some kind of reason.  And he couldn't tell 
them he was afraid his enemies, or worse, his friends, would be able to get to 
him in such an unaware state.

     The sounds of his machines kept him company for the next hour.  
Jessica wondered why he didn't watch TV.  It was because with the machines and 
it on, he could only hear things moving in the room.  Without the TV, his 
range of hearing extended to several feet down the hall.  The better to hear 
someone approaching.

     He must have dozed again with the last dose of medication.  Either 
that or he died.  When he opened his eyes, Mulder was sitting in the chair 
across the room that had remained vacant for almost four weeks.  He recovered 
slowly, said, "I'm not contagious," and indicated the chair closer to the bed.

     "With everything you've been involved with, I wouldn't be too sure," 
Mulder quipped and slowly crossed the room.

     "How did you find me?" he asked carefully, fighting the panic.  If 
Mulder could find him so easily, the others wouldn't be far behind.

     "I wasn't looking for you."

     "You spoke with..."  He wasn't going to compromise her if Mulder 
didn't already know.

     "Jessica Reynolds.  Daughter of Angela Donovan Reynolds.  
Granddaughter of Richard and Julie Carson."

     He really wanted a cigarette right now.  "What was left for you to 
find that?"  He wasn't sure if Mulder would answer him.  If he were in 
Mulder's place, he would be afraid the evidence would disappear once again.  
But if he *were* in Mulder's place, he would be looking at a dying man that 
had lost his power and had much to fear.

     "Wentworth's.  The name William Anderson and my father's abduction his 
last year there."

     "He told you?"  He couldn't imagine when that would have happened.  
Bill Mulder had been told he had been ill, in a coma, for that short time he 
didn't remember in his teens.  The older Mulder had never questioned that 
story.  He also believed the one about his parents' car accident and the 
necessity of changing his name.  The older Mulder had never pursued the truth 
like his son had.

     Mulder laughed humorously.  "Don't worry.  My father never told me 
anything.  I found an X-File.  It was about the disappearance of William 
Anderson and the agent on the case was Richard Carson."

     "You always said the truth was in there."  He fought to collect 
himself.  "Why are you here, Agent Mulder?"

     "Who is your replacement?"

     He started to raise his hand to bring the cigarette to his mouth.  
Instead, he pulled the oxygen mask away from his face.  It was a small attempt 
at covering his vulnerability.  "Better the enemy you know," he agreed.

     "Something like that."

     "I don't know.  I've been here awhile.  He's probably been in place 
since then."

     "Thought you were going to live forever?"  Mulder sneered.

     "No.  But close enough."

     He knew Mulder must have seen his uncertainty, his fear, when he 
asked, "They don't know where you are, do they?"

     The time for games and misleads was over.  He had avoided the 
so-called therapy for long enough that there was little time and no hope for 
him.  At least that was the case as long as they didn't know where he was.  
"No.  They don't."  He paused as he thought out this last mind game.  "And I 
don't want them too."  He told himself he was playing on Mulder's emotions, 
his sense of compassion.  He didn't realize the reason Mulder was still 
listening was because Mulder knew he was telling the truth.

     "Why?"

     "I was once like you, Agent Mulder.  I was a good agent that had a 
promising career and a new family.  I was sure of myself and my government.  I 
wouldn't stop for anything but the truth.  And I found it."  He started to 
cough and had to replace the oxygen mask.  It was either that or one of the 
nurses would return and interrupt them.

     It was several minutes before he could continue.  "Your father found 
the same truths, but he dealt with it differently.  Me, I cut all ties.  
Everything that could be used against me, I made it so that it no longer 
mattered.  Your father always was different.  He *needed* your mother.  But in 
the end, he had less than I did.  He didn't have his daughter, his son, or his 
wife."  He had almost taken pleasure from Bill Mulder's pain.  It seemed to 
justify his own decisions.  "I knew my callousness had insured my family's 
safety."

          * * * * *

     Mulder stood in the door trying to control the wave of hatred he felt 
and watched the old man breathe.  He turned to the nurse and said, "No.  It 
isn't him.  Thank you for your time."

     "Agent Mulder, should I call you if I do see him?"

     He reached for one of his cards and wondered if it would be valid 
after the hearing next month.  "Please do.  But I doubt he'll show up.  Coming 
here was a long shot."

     She pocketed the card and went back to the nurses' station.

     Mulder went down to the cafeteria until the shift change.  He thought 
about calling Scully, but she would be in the middle of the conference and the 
news could wait.  It wasn't like she didn't already know where he was.  And he 
wasn't too sure if his brief glimpse of the man had been accurate.

     He entered the room again two hours later and just stood there for a 
moment.  After several minutes he crossed to the bed and pulled the chart for 
"Carson Richards" from the little box.  Even after spending all this time with 
Scully and his memory, there were still things he didn't know about medical 
terms and jargon.  But he knew enough to see that the man before him was 
dying.  Of lung cancer.

     He didn't feel a sense of triumph, or even relief.  He almost felt 
defeated.  The man would never be brought to justice for his crimes.  Hell, 
most people weren't even aware that the crimes had been committed.  He wasn't 
even being punished by his own people.  He was just dying like millions of 
others around the world.  Like they would all do eventually.

     Mulder really hoped that the idea of Karma held true.  But then again, 
the idea of this man coming back even as the lowest of the low seemed too good 
for him.  What would be an ideal situation would be to have him become one of 
the victims.  But ideals that were reality were as common as spherical 
chickens.

     He crossed the room again and sat in the chair behind the door.  He 
just sat there and contemplated how he wanted to handle this situation.

     Time passed slowly, but eventually Mulder became aware of the man's 
growing state of consciousness.  He almost smiled when he saw the man's fear, 
but that would be childish.  They both knew he was afraid and it was enough 
for Mulder.  

     Mulder crossed the room to sit in the other chair, mostly because he 
couldn't hear the man clearly through the oxygen mask.  He could see the flash 
of fear turn to panic as Cancerman asked how he had been found.  He knew what 
the man was doing when he didn't say Jessica Reynolds name.  Mulder saw no 
reason to withhold the information.  He even traced the family tree back, so 
there wouldn't be a doubt.

     "What was left for you to find that?"  

     Now that information he was more reluctant to share.  A fire at the 
school would eliminate the files and pretty much all of his information.  But 
then he took a good look at the man.  He was frail, almost skeletal.  And he 
knew the man was dying.  That he was afraid.  He finally answered. 
"Wentworth's.  The name William Anderson and my father's abduction his last 
year there."

     Mulder could see that caused a major shock.  And he understood.  If 
Bill Mulder had had a change of heart, they hadn't given him time to actually 
say anything useful.  They had killed him before he had told Mulder anything 
more than a few alcohol clouded, cryptic phrases that still made little sense. 
Mulder wanted to see the man's reaction to the X-File with his name on it.  
His suspicion was confirmed.  An oversight.  A small incident of misfiling.  
Someone in a hurry.  A bored agent trying to avoid paperwork.  More questions 
that had maybe one answer between them all.

     But there was one more question that wasn't part of that X-File.  "Who 
is your replacement?"

     That generated a nervous reaction.  The man actually seemed to try to 
bring an imaginary cigarette to his mouth.  Apparently his fear wasn't only 
that of the unknown.  It involved his cohorts, too.  "They don't know where 
you are, do they?"  Mulder could see the mind games starting to form in the 
man's head.  He had always been able to see them.  What he hadn't been able to 
see was how much truth lay buried in their lies.

     "Why?"  Why didn't he want anyone to know he was in the hospital?  
What did he know that was so important that Cancerman didn't want his buddies 
to find him?

     "I was once like you, Agent Mulder.  I was a good agent that had a 
promising career and a new family.  I was sure of myself and my government.  I 
wouldn't stop for anything but the truth.  And I found it."  

     Mulder hated being compared to the bastard.  They were nothing alike. 
The only thing they possibly had in common was that they both had four 
nucleotides in their DNA, and even that was questionable.  Now Cancerman was 
talking about his father.  Bill Mulder.  The man that had been brought low by 
having a family, by caring about other human beings.

     If that was such a mistake, why had Cancerman even come to Texas?  Why 
had he stayed after his collapse?  There must have been someone he could have 
called to get him out of there, away from one of the people he had protected 
all these years.

     Trust No One.

     Deep Throat's last words.

     Words he thought he had lived by.

     But he knew that wasn't true.  He had taken calculated risks and 
trusted people.  Senator Matheson, for example.  And then there had been less 
risky people to trust.  Byers, Langly, Frohike.  And when Scully had come 
along ...  Something inside of him had trusted her almost immediately.  It 
hadn't been a mind game he had played to win *her* trust when he had told her 
about his sister after they had known each other barely twenty four hours.  He 
could have chosen a million other things to tell her if that had been what he 
was doing.  Something less important, less painful.  But he had shared the 
most important one.  And look where he was now.  Scully brought others with 
her to be a part of his life.  Mrs. Scully and somehow Skinner became 
included.  There were six people in his life he could call on under any 
circumstances and they would be there.  To help in any way they could.

     Six people.

     So few.

     So many compared to the man dying by himself.

     Mulder wasn't interested in listening anymore and stood up.  Cancerman 
seemed to lose interest in speaking as well and fell silent.  He took one last 
look at the man in the bed and turned to leave.

     "Agent Mulder," he rasped.

     Mulder looked over his shoulder with a resigned expression.

     "I want to make a deal with you."

     "I thought you didn't make deals."  He remembered the tape, Melissa 
Scully's death and what Scully had gone through because of it.

     "They can't find out where I am just yet.  In another few weeks, it 
won't matter.  But right now there's still time."

     In spite of himself, Mulder was curious.  "What will be different in a 
few more weeks?"   /Besides the fact I may be in jail./

     It almost looked like the man shrugged, but it was hard to tell.  
"I'll be able to die," he said simply.

     Mulder's mind raced with the implications of that statement.  "Are you 
telling me, if they were to find you right now, you *could* get better?"

     He ignored that statement and said, "Agent Mulder, I still have the 
DAT tape."

     "And you're willing to give it to me in exchange for not telling them 
where you are?"  He paused and then pointed out, "But since I don't know who 
the "them" is anymore, I don't know if they've followed me here or not."

     "I was unaware that you had found out about me.  They won't know it 
either.  I'll be safe until it's too late."

     It was too easy.  "What?  Is the tape blank?"

     "No.  But some of it has been erased and the rest damaged," he 
admitted.

     "Why should I trust you?" Mulder asked bitterly.

     "Because I'm going to trust you."

     Mulder pondered that.  "I'll be back," he said and left the room.  He 
exited the hospital and scanned the parking lot.  Dismissing his car, he 
started to walk.

     Cancerman was for all purposes dead.  He had no clue who is new shadow 
was, and now he wouldn't be able to judge how close he was to the answers.  
Would it be worth it?  Keeping silent on the subject for the tape?  A tape 
that had been partially erased.  He couldn't even remember what he had seen of 
the original.  His memories of that time were cloudy and unreliable because of 
the drugs that had been in his system.  But one of the intact portions might 
contain the information on what was done to Scully.  Or even him.  Somehow he 
doubted it would have anything on his sister.

     /You have the new car, the washer and dryer, and the all expenses paid 
trip to Europe.  Are you willing to give it up for what's behind door number 
two?/

     He saw a bank of payphones and reached into his pocket for some 
change.  He dialed the hotel and asked for their room.  A moment later the 
desk clerk was back on line.

     "I'm sorry, sir.  No one is answering right now.  Would you like to 
leave a message?"

     "No.  No message.  Thanks.  I'll call back later."

     He hung up and stared at the number pad.  He was almost relieved that 
she hadn't been there.  Turning on his heal, he headed back to the hospital.

          * * * * *

     He let himself into the hotel room and sat on the edge of the bed at 
her feet.  She was on the phone and offered him a curious smile.  He returned 
it wanly and listened as she spoke first with Josh and then with Nick.  She 
passed the phone to him and he half-heartedly tried to decipher the baby talk. 
It was a little easier to understand Josh when Mrs. Scully put him back on the 
phone, but he knew he missed most of what his son had said.  He gave the phone 
back to Scully so she could finish the conversation with her mother.  She hung 
up shortly after.

     "Mulder, what is it?"

     "He was there."

     "Who?"

     "Cancerman.  He was in the hospital there."

     "What?" she managed.

     "He's dying."

     "He went to be with his granddaughter?"

     "No."

     "Mulder, tell me what happened," she said softly and moved to sit next 
to him.

     Haltingly he told her what he had seen and what had been said.  He 
even told her what had been in the man's hospital records and she confirmed he 
didn't have much longer.  It was some time later when she asked, "Did he tell 
you where the tape is?"

     He didn't answer the question and instead repeated the possibility, 
"There probably isn't anything useful still on it."

     "But then again, there might be."  He remained silent and she started 
to point something else out.  "Mulder --"

     "Even if there is any useful information on it, I don't expect it to 
lead to my sister.  You didn't see her name in the documents when we first had 
it."

     She nodded in acknowledgment.  "But Albert hadn't looked through all 
of it."

     "Scully ..."  He paused.  "I don't need it to give me hope.  I *know* 
she's out there ... I want to see what's still on the tape, but I don't want 
to do him any favors."

     "What do you mean?  What does he want you to do for the tape?"

     He raised his hand and smoothed her fierce frown.  "All he wants is 
for me to not let his location be known.  He just wants to die."

     "Mulder, the man is in the advanced stages of lung cancer.  All that's 
left for him is to die."

     "No.  They can cure him.  He doesn't want that."

     "They can cure cancer?"  Her eyebrow raised, her arms crossed and her 
lips pursed in her classic "Skeptical Scully" pose.

     "That's what he implied."

     "More like that's what you inferred."  She stood up and began pacing. 
"Mulder, you can't cure cancer.  You can treat it, you can remove it, but you 
can't cure it."

     "Scully, what if --"

     "Stop right there.  Let's deal with the other matter before we get 
into government conspiracies that involve keeping the cure for cancer a 
secret."

     He had to smile at that.  "Alright.  But think about it..."

     "Mulder."

     He nodded solemnly.  "He told me where the tape is, but I didn't 
promise him anything."

     "You didn't have to.  As soon as you accepted the information, he knew 
you would keep quiet, regardless of whether or not you used the tape."

     "I'm that predictable?"

     "No.  I think the more appropriate term would be honorable."  She sat 
back down next to him.  "So where's the tape?"

     "In DC.  A safe deposit box."  He snorted without humor.  "Under my 
name."

     "That was nice of him.  Now we don't have to break any more laws to 
get to it."

     He nodded in agreement and flopped back down onto the bed.  "Scully, I 
think I'm getting too old for this."

     "That'll be the day.  So what are we going to do with the 
information?"

     "Let's see the extent of it first.  I have a feeling it's going to be 
pretty useless, though.  He wouldn't have surrendered it otherwise."  He 
turned onto his stomach as she stood up and crossed the room.

     "So when does your flight leave?"

     He raised his head in confusion.  "Huh?"

     "When are you going back to check it out?"

     "I wasn't planning on it," he admitted as he turned onto his side.

     "What?"

     "I haven't made any plane reservations.  I hadn't even thought about 
it.  We're going home on Friday, anyway."

     She knelt on the bed and sat on her heels.  "You're serious?"

     He still looked confused and then it dawned on him.  "You thought I 
was going to take off without you?"

     "Don't look so innocent, Mulder.  It wouldn't have been the first 
time.  And may I remind you of the hearing in a few weeks, in case you've 
forgotten the last time you went off without me."

     He pulled her down across his chest.  "Those days are long gone."

     "That's only because there are handcuffs in your near future."

     "Handcuffs, Scully?  Are you turning kinky on me?"

     She held his wrists down by his head.  "You're the one that likes the 
blindfolds and the food products," she said as she nuzzled her nose down the 
vee of his shirt.

     "I never hear you complaining."

     He wasn't sure, but it sounded like she said, "And you never will."

          * * end * *

End NB IV - Old Lies