From: "beduini" <beduini@justduckies.org>
Date: Sat, 3 Nov 2001 19:04:50 -0800
Subject: Return the Hero
Source: direct


XxXxXxXxX Chapter Six
Quantico


Having him back was the only thing she'd wanted, the only thing she 
could focus on outside of work for the last six months.  Her initial 
reaction upon seeing him had been an overwhelming sense of relief.  
When she awoke in the chair next to him and they spoke briefly in 
the middle of the night she was able to drift lazily back to sleep 
and for the first time in months, rest without the distraction of a 
dream.

In the morning as she showered and dressed for work her perception 
began to take on a different slant.  She crept around the apartment 
softly so that she wouldn't wake him, stealing long glances to 
reassure herself that he was still there.  She couldn't believe it.  
Not because she didn't want to, but because a small part inside of 
her heart needed proof that the man in her apartment was absolutely, 
without a doubt Fox Mulder. 

She had been deceived before, in the not-so-distant past.  She 
couldn't explain how another man could look and sound so perfectly 
like Mulder, but he did.  All of the strange things she'd seen and 
experienced in her time with the X Files taught her to be more open-
minded and accept that there are some things that cannot be 
explained.  But it also reinforced her basic need to try harder to 
explain and prove the validity of those things to the best of her 
ability.

The psychological implications of Mulder's latest experience and how 
it had altered the both of them would have to be dealt with.  It 
would take her a while to get past some of the emotional hurt she'd 
endured in the process.

To try to find a way to allay her concerns she turned to that with 
which she was the most familiar, the most effective tool she 
had...science.  She needed to prove to herself that the DNA from the 
blood sample she drew matched the DNA in Mulder's file, and that 
there were no other substances, foreign or otherwise, at play inside 
Mulder's body.  If she could prove the identity of the man, then she 
could begin to heal the emotional wounds that remained. 

The best way for her to deal with the emotional wounds was to 
maintain a degree of distance for the time being.  It was something 
that she'd grown very adept at over the last eight years. 

Even though she was late for her scheduled autopsy she went directly 
to the lab instead, starting the polymerase chain reaction first as 
it would take the longest.

The autopsy could wait.


XxXxXxXxX Skinner Residence


Alex Krycek was sitting in the back seat of his brand new sedan, 
sans disguise, when Walter Skinner climbed in to go to work.  He 
might as well leave the car unlocked for all the good the security 
system he had purchased did him.

Skinner let out an irritated sigh.  "I don't know where he is," he 
said gruffly as he sat behind the wheel, sparing Krycek only a quick 
sidelong glance.  He threw his briefcase in the passenger seat and 
gripped the steering wheel with both hands, but he made no attempt 
to start the engine.

"Still making up for lost time with his partner, I'd imagine," 
Krycek replied with apathy.  He sat in the middle of the back seat, 
both hands shoved into the pockets of his jacket.

Skinner turned, shooting him a surprised look.  "He's back?"

"Last night.  That's why I'm here."  He leaned forward, his mouth 
open in what could almost be described as an amused smile.  "I want 
you to do whatever you have to do to make sure he gets his files 
back."

Skinner's hands tightened and loosened on the steering wheel.  "It's 
not up to me."  He looked up into the rearview mirror - Krycek's 
eyes were dark and intense as they stared back at him.

"You're an Assistant Director, you've got input.  Let's just say 
it's in your best interest to do whatever it takes to get Mulder 
reinstated."

"Or else?"

"I think you know the answer to that," Krycek replied, making eye 
contact with him in the mirror once more and holding his gaze before 
opening the rear driver side door, slipping out of the car and 
walking away.

Skinner sat a moment, his knuckles turning white from gripping the 
steering wheel.  He let out a breath and released the wheel, 
glancing back over his shoulder but seeing no sign of Krycek.

He had expired at Krycek's hand one time already, only to be revived 
at the last possible moment.  Even in the hands of Scully and the 
other doctors at St. Katherine's Hospital his death was only delayed 
a few hours, and no one, even Scully, could provide the answer to 
the question of how to fight the disease that ravaged his 
bloodstream.

He was at Krycek's mercy.  He knew the stakes - he was in a position 
to provide information but also a casualty who Krycek was prepared 
to dispose of if he didn't deliver.  Just another pawn in a game 
where it was every man for himself.

And ultimately, so it was with Walter Skinner.


XxXxXxXxX Scully Residence


After Scully left for work Mulder pulled a few boxes out of the 
closet and found some of his clothes without too much digging.  He 
hadn't completely caught up on his sleep but he had several things 
that he wanted to do, like sweeping Scully's apartment for listening 
devices and starting the process for his reinstatement at the 
Bureau.  He'd had a shower and a shave and fixed himself a bowl of 
cereal followed by a sandwich before returning to the sofa once 
again, his body moving him there without his mind's intention.  
Lethargy and eventually sleep won out over his best intentions, and 
he dozed off again, this time with the television on low for 
company.

He'd achieved his first objective, and the Bureau came to him in the 
personification of Walter Skinner just before lunchtime.

Skinner looked surprised when he opened the door, even though he'd 
spoken with Scully on the telephone and she'd confirmed that he had 
returned and was staying with her.  Mulder greeted him as an old 
friend who he hadn't seen in a long time and invited him inside.

"Scully had some of my things stored in her closet," he said as a 
sort of apology for the unusually messy state of the apartment, 
which Skinner found strangely territorial coming from the man who'd 
run off without a word six months ago.  "So I was trying to find a 
few things."  Mulder was barefoot as he crossed the living room, 
picking up the opened boxes and tossing them into the bedroom before 
closing the door.

"Can I offer you something?" he babbled as he entered the kitchen, 
happy to have a familiar ally to talk with.  "Juice, milk - Scully 
doesn't regularly drink soda or beer at home but I think there's 
some wine and I know where she's stashed a bottle of good scotch..."

"I'm fine, Mulder," Skinner replied with a wave of his hand.  His 
tone was firm enough that Mulder stopped in his tracks in front of 
the refrigerator and returned to the living room.  He thought 
perhaps he was a little too exuberant for the AD's comfort, but six 
months with only two stony-faced men to speak to can do that to a 
guy.

"Of course, you are on duty."

It appeared that Skinner had been practicing his own stony 
expression while he'd been away.

Skinner looked him over, noticing the changes borne in his 
appearance over the last six months before speaking again, his voice 
belying his irritation.  "Where the Hell have you been, Mulder?"

Mulder drew a deep breath and blew it out slowly.  He had expected a 
confrontation at some point.  "California, mostly," he replied.

"Do you have any idea what you put people through by not informing 
anyone of your intentions or your location?"  Skinner's breath was 
coming in short, quick bursts and his eyes flashed angrily as he 
spoke.  "You have a responsibility to the Bureau as well as to the 
people in your life, Mulder.  Agent Scully and myself included."  

Mulder closed his eyes and let out a defeated sigh before moving to 
the sofa and taking a seat like a scolded child.  "I know that.  
Believe me, I didn't want it to play out the way that it did.  I 
didn't have a choice."

Skinner made no move to join him, still standing in the middle of 
the room.  When he spoke again the accusatory tone was gone from his 
voice, although the authority remained.  "What were you doing in 
California?"

"I was gathering evidence on the apparent resurgence of the project 
we thought ended with the mass-killing at El Rico Air Force Base."  
His tone had become sharp and he paused.  "The men involved in this 
project had a live extraterrestrial biological entity with them.  I 
don't know what they were doing with it or what purpose it served.  
That's what I was trying to find out."

Skinner closed his eyes.  It just kept getting worse and worse.  But 
it also explained a lot of things, like why Alex Krycek wanted 
Mulder back on the X Files.  "Did you?" he asked, his voice coming 
out a little hoarse, "Find out anything?"

Mulder shook his head.  "I saw and heard things but I can't offer 
any proof besides my memory.  That's what I need to do now - prove 
what I already know to be true."  He stood, facing Skinner.  "I need 
access to the X Files."

Skinner nodded slightly, squinting as he studied him behind his 
round spectacles.  That was the way it always was with Mulder and 
his quest.  What he believed in he believed with all of his heart 
but nine times out of ten he couldn't prove a damn thing.  For him, 
it was all locked in those goddamned files, including the existence 
of God, the keys to the pyramids and the Holy Grail.  If it hadn't 
been for his success as a profiler and Agent Scully keeping his ass 
relatively focused, he wouldn't have a chance in Hell at getting his 
job back.

But for Skinner, the thing about Mulder that made him respect him 
above all else was the way he held on to his beliefs in the face of 
all of that adversity.  He and Scully got closer than anyone to 
actually getting that proof.  And it was Scully's loyalty to Mulder 
above anyone else that earned his envy.  Even when she'd been 
thoughtlessly left behind.

"You abandoned your partner and your assignment, Mulder," he 
reminded him.

"I'm aware of that, Sir.  But I'm still an experienced, skilled 
agent with plenty to offer and that should be worth a second chance, 
if it's worth anything."

"I'd say you're up to your fifth or sixth chance, but I stopped 
counting a while ago."

Mulder grinned, sure of himself.

Skinner let out a short huff.  The former agent was a cocky son of a 
bitch but he had a point.  And he had more talent than Skinner had 
seen in anyone in all of his years with the Bureau - he would have 
pushed for his reinstatement on that alone, regardless of Krycek's 
demands.  He nodded again, his shoulders dropping as a small smile 
formed on his lips.  Goddamn pain in the ass.

He'd missed him.

He turned and walked toward the door.  Mulder made a move to follow 
but he raised a hand, stopping him.  "Don't.  I'll see myself out."  
He paused in the doorway, glancing back and sighing.  "Come by 
tomorrow and we'll talk about what it will take to get you 
reinstated."

Mulder responded with a solemn nod, a gleam lighting up his eyes. 


XxXxXxXxX Scully Residence


When she came home from work they sat down and he told her 
everything.

Krycek's visit in the middle of the night, his promise of returning 
him within 24 hours, Ulrich, Ellens Air Force Base, seeing the 
E.B.E., following the trucks, and then all about the physical 
conditioning and the development of his ability.  She sat silently, 
listening carefully as he had done with her so often in the past.

The conversation went on into the late hours of the evening.  By the 
time he came to the parts where he'd made contact with the E.B.E.; 
described what it had said to him; the amazing craft overhead; and 
how the men had disappeared in the flash of light, she was able to 
add her own experience to his story.

They were sitting on the sofa together, close but not touching, and 
she remained silent, letting the full impact of the story sink in.  
He watched her face, wanting to touch her, allowing her as much time 
as she needed.  It was a lot to swallow in one evening.

After a while she cleared her throat and spoke softly, "So now are 
you gonna tell me that Alex Krycek is one of the good guys?"

He thought about her question, drawing a deep breath.  "I don't 
condone what he's done in the past, and I don't approve of his 
methods.  But I can say with certainty that he's on our side.  We're 
all working for the same results."

"Except we don't kill innocent people as we're doing so," she 
replied, glancing up into his eyes.

He understood her issues with Krycek.  He shared many of those 
issues himself.  "I'm not saying that it was easy for me to be there 
with him, knowing the pain he's caused in our lives.  We didn't sit 
around and share stories about Boy Scout camp."  She offered a 
slight, sardonic smile at his joke and he continued.  "But the fact 
remains that he knew about the project and he wants to stop it as 
much as we do."

"He used you, Mulder."

"He needed me to help him find a way to stop it."

Her eyes were wide and serious.  "And what happens now?  What's 
going to stop others from using you as well?  Especially the people 
working on the project..."

"They don't know about it."

"How do you know?  You said they've been watching us for months, 
listening to our conversations, spying on our most private 
moments...they must know you're here now."

He stood, giving her a look, then walked in to her bathroom and 
returned with the small waste can, holding it out toward her.  "I 
took care of that this morning."

She leaned forward and looked inside. There were several small 
listening devices, all crushed.

She let out a long breath, incensed that they had been there for God 
knows how long, and relieved that he'd removed and destroyed them.  
"You got them all?" she asked, looking up at him searchingly.

His eyes were dark and his face determined.  "All of them."

She closed her eyes and leaned back into the sofa cushions.  He sat 
next to her, reaching out to take her hand but deciding not to.  He 
wasn't going to push her.  After a moment she opened her eyes and 
looked at him.  "This ability you've developed, Mulder..." she 
paused, licking the corner of her mouth, "have you..."

He cut her off before she could continue with a shake of his head 
and a firm, "No.  No, I haven't and I won't.  Not you."

She looked at him, then dropped her eyes and nodded slightly.  Then 
she stood slowly, letting her muscles stretch after sitting for so 
long.  "I'm going to turn in," she said without looking at him 
again, her tone indicating that she meant alone.

He smiled to cover his disappointment.  "I'm going to hang here and 
watch 'The Sopranos', catch up on what I've missed.  I hear Pussy 
got whacked."

She stepped around his feet and walked toward the bedroom, pausing 
at the doorway to turn and look at him.  Her expression was 
unreadable.  "Goodnight, Mulder."

He looked up, in his eyes a mixture of disappointment and 
understanding.  "Goodnight, Scully."

He clicked on the television and waited until he heard the bedroom 
door close before letting out a sigh of frustration.  He understood 
that she was trying to deal with the situation in her own way but he 
didn't like it.  He hadn't expect her to throw herself into his arms 
at first sight of him...well, truthfully, he had.  He wanted to pull 
her into his arms and bury his face in her neck since the moment he 
saw her curled up in that chair.

But it was different, being the one who left as opposed to the one 
left behind.

While he was on his own pursuits Scully had to deal with the 
uncertainty of not knowing where he'd gone or why he'd left, if he 
was safe or even alive and if she'd had anything to do with it.  
They had been through separations before, but when you're just good 
friends there are certain things that you don't consider.  But when 
you're good friends AND lovers there are other implications and the 
scenario takes on a different slant.  Feelings are involved, taking 
on more importance, commitments implied whether they were spoken or 
not.

Although they had been silently in love with each other for a long 
time, by the time he'd left everything was out in the open and there 
was no room for doubt in either mind how they felt.  They both 
understood that what brought them together was more than chance or a 
random series of events.  They belonged together.  He didn't see how 
she could doubt his feelings for her now...unless her own had 
changed.

That was a situation he didn't want to consider.  He wasn't getting 
that vibe from her, though.  No, it was more like before - before 
they'd become lovers, before she'd accepted her life's path and his 
place in it and let him inside.  He was still as much a part of her 
as she was him.  She just wasn't ready to make it all-encompassing 
once again.

So like before, he would wait for her.


XxXxXxXxX


She couldn't sleep.  She couldn't hear the television in the other 
room, but the soft bluish light beneath her bedroom door flickered 
every so often.  That wasn't the problem though.

She couldn't stop thinking.  About German priests and scripture 
reciting aliens and Alex Krycek and Mulder reading people's thoughts 
like the Stupendous Yappi.  About the results of the PCR test that 
she was waiting on, hoping that it would silence her fears about the 
man in the next room.

It was truly a fantastic story, and definitely worthy of Mulder...if 
they could prove any of it.  Several of the things that he'd told 
her didn't make sense.  Like claiming that Krycek could be trusted - 
that wasn't something she would have expected from Mulder after all 
that they had suffered at that man's hands.  She wasn't certain that 
she would be able to accept help from Krycek even if it were true.  
And what of the alleged mind reading ability?  That would have to be 
tested and proven in a controlled environment.

God, if it were true...

Physically he appeared to be relatively healthy and unharmed but his 
appearance had changed since she'd seen him last.  Her mouth had 
fallen open when he stood up from the sofa that morning and she'd 
seen for the first time how he had filled out - his chest and 
shoulders were as broad as Skinner's now.  He was still lean, but 
much more muscular than before.

Looking into his eyes, listening to his voice as he told her all 
about his adventure, she could believe.  He thought like Mulder, 
used the same speech patterns as Mulder, expressed himself like 
Mulder.  And he looked at her the way Mulder did.  He made her feel 
the way Mulder did.

But her feelings, or more importantly, her heart, was the thing that 
she had to protect.  She'd like nothing more than to ask him into 
her bed and subsequently into her heart the way she had done one 
spiritually enlightened night months ago - it seemed like forever 
ago now.  Their romantic involvement had been brief but it was more 
satisfying than any other relationship she had ever been involved 
in.  Before she could open herself up like that again she had to be 
certain.

Absolutely certain.

The light that had been flickering underneath the doorway stopped 
flickering and she wondered if he was still awake, or if he was even 
there.  Her brow furrowed and she threw the comforter aside, 
climbing out of bed and crossing over to the door barefoot.  She 
paused, listening, and tentatively opened the door.

She would just take one more look, just to make sure he was still 
there.

He was sitting in the middle of the sofa watching some dark, spooky 
looking movie, still dressed in the button down shirt and jeans he'd 
been wearing earlier.  He sensed her presence and turned his head, 
only to catch her standing in the shadows.  "Is everything okay?" he 
asked, standing and turning to face her.

The scene on television changed, casting more light into the room 
and concern etching into his face off of the look on hers.  He had 
seen that look a few times and it always made him uneasy.

She looked up at him, still wearing the same unreadable expression.  
Her brow was still furrowed with concentration and she crossed the 
room in several swift steps, stopping just in front of him, her eyes 
focused intently on his chest.  Reaching up, she deftly unbuttoned 
his shirt with singular purpose.

His lips parted in surprise but he stood silently still, regulating 
his breathing, his arms remaining at his sides, uncertain about what 
she was doing or what she wanted from him.  He wanted to touch her.  
She was so close that he could smell the fragrance of her hair.  
God, he'd missed her so fiercely in the six months he'd been away 
that he'd found himself looking for and recreating specific 
reminders just to get him through, such as the fragrance of her hair 
or the distinct sound of her gait as her heels hit the hard floor.  
That morning, even, he'd stood in her shower with his nose buried in 
the shampoo bottle and his hand wrapped around his cock until the 
water started to turn cold.  

She pushed the shirt over his shoulders and down his arms, placing 
her fingers on his chest as his shirt floated to the floor.  Her 
hands were warm and she stared at his exposed torso, her eyes 
intense.  The room was dim, but the television gave off enough for 
her to be able to see him.

He was bigger than he used to be, if this was really Mulder.

Harder, the muscle mass more dense.  That would be from all of the 
physical training he'd described.  His hands were clenching and 
unclenching in loose fists as her fingers came up to his left 
shoulder and touched the small scar, prodding it, feeling it.  She 
knew this - yes, it looked the same.

She circled around him slowly, her occasional glancing touch turning 
his skin to gooseflesh and causing his heart to pound in his chest, 
the blood rushing south.

She reached up and felt the smooth skin behind his neck, running her 
fingers up into his hair and finding no evidence of scarring, then 
proceeding with her examination of the rest of his back.  When she 
came full circle to stand in front of him once more she ran the back 
of her fingers down his chest, over his Pectoralis Major and down 
his Rectus Abdominis.  'Six pack' the trainer at the gym called it - 
the muscles flexing inward involuntarily from her touch as he gasped 
softly.

"What are you trying to do, kill me?" he whispered hoarsely.  

She didn't respond to his reaction.  His breathing grew shallow as 
she placed her palms flat over his chest, pressing against him 
lightly, feeling the resistance of flesh and muscle and his 
resounding heartbeat.  He forced himself to breathe regularly.  It 
was a doctor's touch - he didn't think her actions were intended to 
arouse, although she was arousing him just the same.

"Is it really you, Mulder?" she asked, more as a rhetorical question 
than a question requiring a response.  She leaned her cheek against 
his chest, listening to his rapid heartbeat.  Then she turned her 
head so that his forehead rest just over his heart and drew in a 
deep breath - yes, despite the use of her shampoo in the shower that 
morning he smelled like Mulder, too.

He raised his hands and let them rest gently on her silk clad 
shoulders, allowing her the freedom to pull away if his touch was 
unwanted.  She responded by lifting her head, her eyes wide and 
searching as they met his dark, aroused eyes.

He let out the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.  "Who do 
you think I am if I'm not me, Scully?" he asked, his voice rough but 
holding a hint of surprise.  He knew she wouldn't answer the 
question, just as he had a pretty good idea what she was doing and 
why.

Her breath caught as his hands came up to cradle her face.  She 
clutched his upper arms loosely in her hands, holding herself steady 
as she looked into his eyes.

Nobody else ever looked at her like that except Mulder.

"Scully," he said softly, affectionately, almost an admonishment, 
rubbing his thumbs against her cheeks while his eyes confirmed 
without question that the man inside and out was Fox Mulder.  He 
wiped the moisture away from the outer corners of her eyes and bent 
down to place a tender, soft kiss against her forehead, pulling back 
to look at her once again.  "What will it take to convince you?"

Her breathing was as shallow as his when she looked up at him.  The 
need and the desire to reconnect with him became too powerful and 
slowly her lips parted as he leaned down to press his against hers.

His lips were soft and his mouth was warm.  She had adored kissing 
Mulder - just after they'd become romantically involved they had 
spent whole evenings doing what she remembered as nothing more than 
kissing and dozing before drifting off to sleep.  Their kiss now was 
similar to those kisses she'd shared with Mulder in the past; sweet 
and tentative, passionate but not to the point of distraction.

He drew a deep breath without taking his lips away from hers and 
deepened the kiss, pulling her closer, responding the only way his 
body would allow after being apart from her for so long.  He was 
ready; he wanted to make love to her.  Maybe if he showed her how he 
felt about her, she would be convinced.

But she broke the kiss and stepped back, the niggling doubt keeping 
her from allowing it to go any further.  She had to use her head.  
After all of the emotional trauma that she'd been through the last 
six months she had to be positive that it was all behind them.  

"What will it take to convince you?" he repeated again softly.  His 
eyes showed his hurt, but he made no move to pull her back into an 
embrace.

She struggled to catch her breath as she watched him, still looking 
for something that would give him away as a fraud but only seeing 
the man that she remembered.  She was dealing with a lot of 
conflicting emotions that would have to be worked out.  "Time," she 
replied after a pause.  "We've both been through a difficult time to 
say the least.  We need to put it behind us and figure out how to go 
forward.  I need to be certain..." 

She looked away, leaving the rest of her sentence unspoken and he 
nodded his acceptance.  He knew she needed to feel secure about him 
without worrying that he was going to run off and leave her the same 
way again.  It hurt to have her trust in him stretched so thin, but 
he knew that he deserved it - she had been as patient as a saint 
already.  He remembered how he'd felt when she'd gone off with the 
smoker without telling him and that had only been a few days.  As 
much as he wanted things to be the way they had been before, he owed 
it to her to give her a little of the same.

"If that's what it's gonna take, then take all the time you need.  
Time is the one thing that I have in abundance to give right now."

She looked up at him again and gave him a slight, almost 
imperceptible smile before stepping back, the shadows masking her 
expression once again.  Then she turned and went back into the 
bedroom, closing the door behind her.

At least she didn't lock it, he thought to himself.  He wouldn't 
venture in unless invited, but at least she trusted him enough to 
realize that.  It wasn't much, but it was something.


XxXxXxXxX Chapter Seven


The blood typing, toxicology and PCR reports all confirmed that the 
man staying in her home was Fox Mulder.  Other than a slightly lower 
than usual but very healthy cholesterol count, there was nothing 
unusual about him.

The results were in around mid-morning, leaving her with a little 
time on her hands before she was due in Skinner's office at one to 
discuss Mulder's reinstatement.  Mulder had taken the bus from her 
apartment to the Hoover Building early that morning and Skinner's 
assistant had called her just after ten a.m. to set up the meeting.

She saw that as a good sign.

She was relieved by the positive outcome of the tests.  The science 
can't be refuted.  But that did little to relieve her conflicting 
emotions about wanting to resume the relationship as it had been 
just before Mulder left and wanting to protect herself from another 
hurt as big as the once she'd just endured.  Which was why she was 
now sitting in the chapel of St. Cyril, just outside of Washington, 
D.C.

She'd passed by the small church nearly every day since she'd been 
reassigned to Quantico, and the quaint, New England style 
architecture always drew her attention.  It was unusual to see such 
a structure in this area - it seemed more appropriate for a small 
town.  That morning, for some unknown reason, she'd been inclined to 
stop on her way back into the city.

She needed to think and this seemed like the perfect place to do it.

There was nothing remarkable about the church.  It was Ecumenical, 
small, the pews and altar constructed of a nice, dark mahogany and 
the tile floor clean and shiny.  There were two large mixed bouquets 
of beautiful fresh flowers on either side of the altar, presumably 
from a recent wedding over the weekend, and the pleasant, sweet 
floral aroma permeated the air.

There was a service in progress, the pastor just standing up for the 
gospel as she took a seat in an empty pew near the back.  The church 
was small and relatively unpopulated - not surprising for a weekday 
service.  The only other person in her immediate vicinity was a man 
in black two rows ahead.

She felt strangely at peace there, like she belonged.

The pastor began his sermon and Scully bowed her head, partly 
listening and partly thinking about her own situation.  She trusted 
Mulder with her life and she loved him like no other person in her 
life.  He was everything.  But that was the problem - no one can be 
everything to someone, there had to be a balance.  The only balance 
that she could see in the equation was that she appeared to be 
everything to Mulder as well.

By her estimation, that made the both of them equally screwed. 

A word the pastor spoke caught her attention and she raised her 
head, listening.

"...and what of destiny?  Perhaps you feel that you were destined to 
meet significant people in your lifetime, but what are the qualities 
of those relationships now?  It is no longer up to destiny to 
determine how we have chosen to think, feel and act toward those 
people in our lives, and that includes ourselves.  We all get caught 
up in the day to day hustle and bustle...I know I do.  We become 
preoccupied with the mechanics of life, with fear, doubt, 
worry...and we forget about the mechanics of the heart, to share the 
best of ourselves with those we love.

"It is our choice, our WILL, to love every single day.  Life engages 
us every day with opportunities to express the love of the Creator.  
Most of these situations involve other people, whether they are 
family, friends, acquaintances, co-workers, or people that we 
encounter briefly in everyday life.  Love can come without the least 
effort, but it is also the thing worthy of the most effort we can 
give it."

Scully realized she had been holding her breath and she let it out 
slowly, blinking back sudden tears filling her eyes.  She felt as if 
the pastor was speaking to her, that he knew what was in her heart 
at that very moment.  That he had seen the conflict inside of her 
and was addressing her personally, touching her deepest emotions.

He continued to speak about love and the Creator's desire that we 
love one another with a pure heart, but she could only stare at him 
with unseeing eyes, thinking of the words that she had just heard.  
'It is our choice to make the most out of the love we've been 
given...the thing worthy of the most effort we can give it.'

She was still considering the words as the pastor prepared the 
sacrament of communion.

No one would fault her for wanting to step away and allow time and 
distance to heal her heart.  It would be the safest, most logical 
thing to do.  But if Mulder were to leave again, if something were 
to take him away from her, would it hurt any less then?  Would she 
accept vindication in her decision to remain sheltered...or would 
she forever regret not spending the time that she had with him to 
the fullest?

An elderly woman was singing in a shaky voice, "See that you love 
one another, with a pure heart, fervently," and Scully stood, 
walking up the short center aisle to accept the host.  On her way 
back to her seat the man in black caught her eye - literally.  He 
was wearing a priest's vestments, and something about him seemed 
vaguely familiar, although she couldn't put a name with his face.  
He held her gaze a few moments, until she looked away.  

Following the service she remained in her seat until all but she and 
the priest in black had exited the chapel.  They both stood at the 
same time, and she gave him a polite smile as they exited into the 
late morning sunshine, she one step ahead of him.

The pastor of the church was standing to the left, speaking with two 
elderly women who had been in attendance.  Scully could feel the 
priest's eyes on her as she walked down the front steps and she 
turned to look at him once more, a look of confusion on her face.

"I'm sorry, Father...but have we met before?"

The way he looked into her eyes was familiar, but he shook his head.  
"No, we have not."

She nodded, and turned to leave when he spoke again, "I sense you 
are experiencing some doubt...?"

There was a slight accent in his voice and she shook her head 
slightly, a look of confusion on her face as she smiled 
apologetically.  "No, not if you say we haven't met.  Perhaps you 
remind me of someone else."

He just looked at her, his gaze becoming uncomfortable for her and 
she looked down.

"What did you think of the gospel?" he asked after a long moment.

She drew in a deep breath.  "It was very..." she let out a huff, 
touching her tongue to the corner of her mouth.  "Timely," she 
replied.

"It had meaning for you, then?"

She looked past him at the board by the entrance to the chapel.  The 
title for the day's sermon was listed as 'Get Thee Behind Me, 
Satan.'  Strange that the title didn't fit the sermon.  The day and 
date were correct.  She looked back at the priest and nodded.  "Yes.  
I have some issues to sort out.  Personal issues."

He nodded.  "Are there others involved?"

She paused.  "Yes.  One other person in particular."

"God has given us free will to make choices for ourselves.  He wants 
us to learn how to use our freedom and exercise our independent 
nature, but in a way that benefits ourselves and others."

She looked at him, thinking.  She knew what choice she needed to 
make, just as she realized that it had been her own choice to 
squirrel herself away from the rest of the world while she was 
looking for Mulder.  She could have stayed in the basement office 
investigating X Files in his absence, but the Bureau's decision that 
she search for him on her own time and at her own expense made it 
fruitless to stay there.  Bearing the expense of the search only 
made her job security that much more important.

She had thought that the emotional reminder of being in the basement 
amongst Mulder's files and effects would be too much for her to deal 
with on a daily basis.  But in hindsight, it might have helped her 
deal with her pain if she'd chosen to go on investigating X Files as 
she continued to look for him.  For she knew deep in her heart that 
she wasn't an incomplete person for the absence of Mulder, but 
rather, she was a complete person for everything that she and Mulder 
had shared in their years together.

She could have handled the X Files on her own, and done an excellent 
job at that.  But she wouldn't have been as effective as she would 
having Mulder there with her.  It was his energy and his passion 
that drove them forward, just as it was her attention to detail and 
insistence on gathering all of the facts before drawing conclusions 
that kept them focused.  She allowed him to be all that he could be, 
just as he allowed that in her.  Alone, she would have walked the 
middle ground.

All in all, it wasn't as if she had not been aware of what she was 
doing when she'd transferred back to Quantico, but it seemed like 
the simplest thing to do at the time.

It seemed likely that Mulder would get his job back now, and would 
certainly want her back on the X Files with him.  Without her, it 
would be the middle ground for him as well.

Of course, she would go in a heartbeat.

Which only left her with her personal feelings for the man to 
decipher.  Should she protect her heart and continue doing what 
she'd been doing for the past six months, and for nearly eight years 
before that - following the safest emotional path...

or choose that which would require the most effort...that which 
would offer the most reward but was also the most uncertain path?

Opening herself up to Mulder the first time had been the biggest 
risk she had ever taken.  Doing it again would be the second.

The priest was still watching her, almost as if he were listening to 
her thoughts.  "Thank you, Father."  She smiled gratefully, finally 
feeling some sense of resolution as her choice became clearer.

He nodded, a strange look in his eye as he held her gaze a moment 
longer, then turned and walked down the steps, heading off alone 
down the sidewalk.

It occurred to her then how strange it was that a priest would be in 
attendance at a weekday service in a small, seemingly ordinary 
Ecumenical church.

But then again, she rationalized, perhaps his presence was no more 
unusual than her own.


XxXxXxXxX F.B.I. Headquarters, Washington, D.C.


Mulder wouldn't need to go through the Office of Professional 
Conduct to be reinstated.  Once he told Skinner the complete story 
of his disappearance, the fact that Alex Krycek was involved and had 
drawn a gun on him was enough to turn Mulder's official status from 
abandonment of his assignment to abduction at the hands of a 
suspected felon.  Like Scully years ago, he would be reinstated to 
active duty with full benefits with nothing more than a creatively 
worded recommendation by the Assistant Director, a clean bill of 
health from his doctor and the ever-present, required paperwork.

Skinner had already spoken on the telephone with Scully's immediate 
supervisor at Quantico about her transfer back to the X Files.  As 
long as she was made available for consultation and could handle an 
autopsy or two until they replaced the headcount there wouldn't be 
any problem signing her back into the charge of Assistant Director 
Skinner immediately.

Silently she sat across from the A.D. without masking her surprise 
at the expedient turn of events.  She would be irritated at their 
assumption that she wanted to return to the X Files, if it hadn't 
been true.  Equally surprising was the fact that Mulder wasn't even 
in the room with them.  Noting his absence, she expected to hear 
that he'd been sent down to Karen Kossoff for psychological 
evaluation, or perhaps he was at the range brushing up on his target 
practice for the mandatory firearm re-certification. 

When Skinner told her that he was down in the basement waiting for 
her she couldn't hide the smile that took over her entire face.


XxXxXxXxX


Mulder sat balanced precariously on the rear two wheels of his desk 
chair, his legs up on the desk and his arms tucked behind his head, 
surveying his kingdom.  Scully hadn't exaggerated - everything was 
exactly as he had left it, pencils stuck to the ceiling tiles and 
all.

Perhaps she would explain to him the law of physics and how it 
applied to that little anomaly.

When he heard through the open doorway the familiar, quick-paced 
click of her heels on the linoleum as she walked down the hall he 
closed his eyes, a beatific smile taking over his face.

He was home.

She stopped in the doorway, taking in the sight.  Mulder was dressed 
in the familiar charcoal suit, blue shirt and striped tie, feet up 
on the desk, a shit-eating grin on his face.  She wanted to weep 
from the beauty of it.  She couldn't help herself - she burst out 
laughing.

Her silly, giggly, infectious laugh filled him with joy and he 
wanted to run over, grab her and swing her around the room and yell, 
'We're home!'  He settled for a sarcastic grin and the slightly used 
phrase from long ago, "Nobody here but the F.B.I.'s most unwanted."

"I wouldn't say 'unwanted'," she replied, walking toward him.  "They 
kept your office intact for six months.  Paperwork and perfunctory 
medical examinations aside, you were re-instated in less than a 
day."  She stopped directly in front of his desk, crossing her arms 
in front of her in the pose he was all-too familiar with.  "I'd say 
you are definitely wanted by the F.B.I., Mulder."

"Amazing, isn't it?" he asked wide-eyed, without a trace of sarcasm 
in his voice.

"Amazing should have been your middle name."

He grinned, his eyes sparking at the comment.  He wasn't going to 
touch that one under the circumstances.  "Oooo," he replied instead, 
pursing his lips and letting out a soft "ah" with a slight grin 
before sitting up and pulling a file off of the top of the stack 
behind the desk.

He remembered this game well.

When he spoke again his voice took on the familiar tone of the 
lecturer.  "I found the files on El Rico, Cassandra Spender and 
Gibson Praise, in addition to the notes we'd compiled following the 
bombing of the Federal Building in Dallas and our little side trip 
to Antarctica."  He glanced up at her, "Plus, anything that had any 
remote reference to an E.B.E., including the "Alien Abduction" 
video, Dr. Zama and the secret railroad."

To the best of her memory, there were strong similarities between 
the retrofitted tanker trucks in Trona, Mulder's recent experience 
and all of the cases he mentioned.  She met his eyes, then peered 
over his desk.  On the floor next to him was a stack of files, at 
least three feet high.

He stood, shaking down his pants legs.  "How about we take these 
home, stop by and pick up one of those deluxe, deep-dish, Chicago-
style pizzas from Uno's that I've been dreaming about for the last 
six months, and see if something jumps out at us based on the new 
information we've acquired?"

She drew in a breath and held it, then let it out again.  That was 
the Mulder she knew and loved, out of the frying pan and right back 
into the fire.  He was probably expecting her to respond with a 
logical reason why they should wait a few days before jumping in 
with both feet, but the truth was, she wanted back in as much as he 
did, if not more.

Still, she had to point out the obvious.  "You're not officially 
back on the payroll until you pass your examinations."

"So I've got plenty of time to kill," he replied with a grin.

Six months of nothing but dead people, she reminded herself.  She 
was beginning to feel like that kid in "The Sixth Sense," only the 
dead people she saw were inanimate.  She was more than ready for a 
little excitement, even if it involved a stack of files almost as 
tall as she.

"Then why wait?" she replied, a self-satisfied smile playing at her 
lips off of his surprised look.  "Let's get started."


XxXxXxXxX Scully Residence


Scully pulled off her reading glasses and placed them in front of 
her on the coffee table, squeezing the bridge of her nose between 
her thumb and forefinger.  "What I can't figure out is what kind of 
tests were being performed on the entity you saw, and why you saw no 
one else come and go besides the person who delivered the supplies."

They had been at it for hours, the pizza and leftovers long since 
consumed, along with several pots of coffee.  Mulder was on his 
feet, pacing off his unaccustomed caffeine buzz while they debated 
the points that had been raised from reexamining the files.

"I don't know, maybe there were others and we never saw them.  Maybe 
they kept them inside the trucks along with It."  He had been 
throwing out ideas all evening, his mind seemingly working overtime 
to keep up with the caffeine racing through his system.

"I saw those trucks, Mulder.  Maybe they would have been able to 
keep one other person inside and even that would be at great 
discomfort, unless that person..." she didn't finish her statement.

Mulder was poking around the mantle, touching the photographs and 
picking up the knick-knacks.  "What?" he asked, then stopped, 
turning to look at her, "Unless that person was unconscious?"

She looked down and nodded.  "We could only hope.  Consider the 
alternative."

"If there was such a person," he added, his inflection stressing the 
word 'if', "And we have no evidence to suggest that."
 
She stood up stiffly from where she had been sitting Indian-style on 
the floor, slowly letting the vertebrae in her spine straighten, one 
by one.  "Other than what you saw and a couple of abandoned trucks 
that are probably long gone, we have no evidence whatsoever."

Mulder watched her, and from the late hour, the tired look on her 
face and the tone of finality in her voice, he knew that she was 
about to say goodnight.  With a silent sigh, he walked over to the 
closet and pulled out a set of sheets and what she recognized as the 
old comforter from his own bed.

"What are you doing?" she asked, stopping in mid-stretch and 
dropping her arms to her sides.

"Just getting my bed ready," he replied.

"You're going to bed now?"  She said it like she was disappointed, 
with a little irritation thrown in for color.

"I don't have to.  I thought..." one look at her face and he put the 
bedding back in the closet, closing the door, then turning to face 
her.

She sat down on the sofa.  "About those scriptures, Mulder...can you 
remember specifically which ones you heard?"

He blew out a breath of air, his cheeks puffing out in the process 
as he thought a moment.  "I am the light of the world."

She nodded.  "What else?"

"Everlasting life.  Uh, Book of Revelation...the dead rising to the 
Lord.  Salvation."

She stared at him wide-eyed, her mind obviously working as she did 
so.  "Can you be more specific?  A specific verse, or, or...the 
correlating chapter and verse number...?"

He closed his eyes, concentrating.  "'I will give you a new heart 
and put a new spirit in you; I will remove you from your heart of 
stone and give you a heart of flesh.  And I will put my Spirit in 
you and move you to follow my decrees and be careful to keep my 
laws.'"  He opened his eyes.  "It said that just before I heard your 
voice."

Scully stared past him, mumbling, "...with a pure heart, fervently."

"What was that?" he asked, catching only the last part of the 
sentence.

"Something I heard today."  She looked up at him.  "I stopped by a 
church today, just before I met with Skinner.  I'd seen it, but I'd 
never been there before.  There was a priest there, Mulder, sitting 
in the back during the service.  He spoke to me afterward."

"What did he say?"

"He looked at me like he knew me, although I asked if we'd met 
before and he said with certainty that we hadn't.  And then he said 
something about free will and God's desire for us to make choices 
that benefit others."  

He chewed on his bottom lip thoughtfully.  "What do you think he 
meant by that?"

She looked up at him and he realized that she was about to tell him 
something very significant.  

"What?  Scully, what is it?"

She hadn't expected to get into this tonight, but it looked like it 
was inevitable.  "While I was speaking to him I realized something, 
Mulder."  She paused.  "I realized that I have to look past my fear 
and choose to live my life in the way that will be the most 
beneficial to others, but especially to myself."

He shook his head, replying vehemently, "You do that, Scully.  Every 
day.  You're the most fearless person I know."

"You don't know, Mulder.  You haven't seen me the last six months."  
She looked directly into him, the intensity of her gaze making him 
nervous.

He swallowed and shifted from foot to foot, still trying to deal 
with the caffeine in addition to his nerves.  "Well, maybe you 
should think about this a while before you make a sudden decision 
that could effect the rest of your life."

She stood and walked over to him, the look in her eyes tender, 
almost apologetic, like she was about to give him some very 
important news.  She placed a hand on his cheek and he felt a 
sudden, irrational fear well up inside of his belly.  

Oh God, she was going to dump him.

"I was lost," she said softly, absently brushing her thumb softly 
against his cheek.

He closed his eyes to the sensation, bracing himself for the 
big kiss-off, but she remained silent.  He opened his eyes to see 
her watching his face intently.  Notably, his mouth.  

"But...?" he interjected, waiting for her judgement.  As she started 
to rise up on the balls of her feet, leaning toward him, he 
understood that she wanted to kiss him and held still, closing his 
eyes again, scared shitless that this was it.

It was a sweet kiss, but it didn't feel like goodbye.  It felt more 
like...hello.  Maybe even I missed you.  He opened his eyes once 
more as their lips parted and she was very close, her eyes searching 
his.  He couldn't stop himself from leaning in and capturing her 
lips between his once more.

"I missed you so much," she whispered against his mouth, returning 
to the kiss as she wrapped her arms around his neck.  She opened her 
mouth, and when her tongue encountered his she whimpered, the 
feeling of liquidity flowing through her body clear down to her toes 
and centering somewhere in the middle.  Mulder...yes, this...THIS is 
Mulder.

If this was how it was going to be saying goodnight every night at 
her apartment, he wondered how long it would take her to drive him 
over the edge of insanity.  When they pulled apart for air, he 
voiced that thought, resting his hands on her shoulders.  "Are you 
deliberately trying to drive me crazy?"

She kissed him again, her hands sliding up underneath his T-shirt 
and stroking the skin on his back.  He groaned, his grip on her 
shoulders tightening as he gently pulled back.  "Last night you said 
you needed some time to think.  I'm not reading your mind, Scully, I 
promised I wouldn't, although it sure as hell would give me some 
clue about what you're thinking.  I need you to tell me what this 
means."

She looked at him a moment, drawing a deep breath.  "It means that 
I've realized that you and I can function separately, but we both 
work better together."

He let out a long breath of relief and nodded, a slight smile on his 
lips.  Letting go of her shoulders, he reached up a hand to caress 
her cheek with the backs of his fingers.  "That's hardly news, 
Scully.  We've been partners longer than Ruth Bader Ginsburg has 
been in the Supreme Court."

She smiled, knowing he understood what she meant but he wanted her 
to spell it out for him, anyway.  "I wasn't talking only about work, 
Mulder."

He looked into her eyes with a look of pure joy mixed with a healthy 
amount of desire.

"So..."  His hands slid down her back to cup her bottom and he 
pulled her lower body up against his gently, letting her feel his 
arousal without grinding against her.  "You're certain."  

Her head fell back as she felt him pressing against her and she 
replied breathlessly, "I'm certain."  With that, he began placing 
kisses down her neck, bending her back as he molded his body to 
hers.

She couldn't help but touch him, his shoulders, arms, back - feeling 
his solid flesh in her hands.  She needed to convey her emotions to 
him, how much she'd missed him.  How much she wanted him.  How much 
she loved him, would always love him in spite of everything, 
including her own fears.

Mulder needed the contact, had craved it for months while they were 
apart.

She fanned her fingers out and pressed against the skin of his back 
again, her fingertips slightly kneading the flesh.  God, he was 
so...big.  Hard.  Everywhere.  The more she became aware of it, the 
more she was actually becoming seriously aroused by it.  When his 
hot mouth left her neck, she took the opportunity to capture it with 
hers again, the kiss growing deeper and more intense the longer it 
continued.

He pulled back with reluctance and looked at her, asking silently 
for her consent.  She took a step away from him, understanding that 
it was her offer to make and he wanted there to be no room for 
misunderstanding.

Looking down, she took his hand in hers, weaving their fingers 
together and turning them over.  They were so different - his hand 
big and dark and hers smaller and pale - yet they still fit 
together.  Not uniform, but complementary.  Different but perfectly 
balanced.  She looked up into his face and he looked up from their 
joined hands, meeting her gaze.  With a warm smile she led him 
slowly and deliberately into the back, through the short hallway to 
the bedroom.

They undressed each other slowly, their eyes meeting frequently and 
pausing from time to time for a warm smile or a reverent caress.  
When they slid between the sheets he leaned over her and kissed her 
slowly, setting the tempo for the rest of the evening.    

Their lovemaking was passionate like new lovers, with the joy of old 
friends reuniting after a long time apart.  The flutter of an 
eyelid, a soft smile, the drawing and releasing of breath in a gasp 
or a sigh - all things were a meaningful part of the coupling.  It 
was familiar and natural, like the way unpracticed fingers lined up 
on a keyboard, automatically knowing, despite years without use, 
which keys to strike.

And as they lay together in sated lassitude afterward, kissing and 
dozing the way she so fondly remembered, they both had the 
confirmation they sought.  That after years of fighting fate, this 
was the way it was meant to be with them.

Together they were one perfectly complete entity.


XxXxXxXxX


The soft snick of the front door closing woke her and she blinked 
the sleep out of her eyes.  Sunlight was streaming in through the 
edges of the blinds and she was temporarily confused, having slept 
like the dead the entire night.  It was a luxurious feeling but she 
sat up quickly, realizing that Mulder wasn't with her in the bed.

"Mulder?"  She said, already throwing back the comforter as the 
unbidden thought occurred to her that he might be gone.

No.  Oh no.

She rushed out into the living room, her eyes wide and her lungs 
feeling like they would explode.  Then she encountered Mulder, 
soaking in the sunlight coming in through the opened blinds of the 
front window.  His tanned skin glowed golden, his hair outlined with 
a white halo as he perused the newspaper, wearing a pair of faded 
old button-fly jeans partially buttoned, and his old reading 
glasses.

He looked up when she entered the room, his lips curving up in 
surprise as his eyes traveled over her.  In a very un-Scully like 
impulse she had neglected to put on any clothing and now he had an 
unadulterated vision of his partner in full daylight; translucent 
skin with a smattering of tiny freckles where it came in contact 
with the sun, copper red hair messed and makeup washed away.

Holy shit, what a sight.  He had been too long in the company of 
nothing but men not to be affected by it.  Some things in life 
happen without warning and he could only stare at her as all of his 
blood ran south once again.  "Hey Scully," he said, swallowing, 
trying to keep his voice from cracking.

She stared at him, drawing in deep breaths, blinking her eyes at the 
image before her like a child staring at Santa Claus.  He had opened 
a few more boxes and they surrounded him, some of the contents laid 
out on the coffee table for closer examination.  

"I heard the door," she said hoarsely.

Not all of the oxygen had left his brain and he realized that she 
must have assumed that he'd left rather than just stepped out to 
pick up the paper.  He might be angry over her assumption that he'd 
sneak out on her, especially when she'd just let him back in and 
they had spent the better part of the evening and early morning 
wrapped around each other in the most intimate of ways.  But the 
expression she now wore was a testament to how deeply she'd been 
hurt over his unexplained absence.  He frowned instead, silently 
berating himself.  She had been able to forgive him but there was 
still a lot of emotional healing that had to take place.  

He thought he knew something that might help in that regard, at 
least as far as letting her know where HIS intentions lay.  It was a 
bit of a risk, but a risk he'd spent a lot of time thinking about 
and had wanted to take for a long time.  He approached her, dropping 
the paper on the coffee table and keeping his eyes on her face while 
he took her hand in his.  "Come over here, Scully, I want to show 
you something."  He paused, looking her over a moment before looking 
into her eyes again.  "Uh...are you comfortable like that?"

She realized he was referring to her state of undress and smiled 
self-consciously, looking around the living room and spotting one of 
his black T-shirts lying on the top of a newly opened box nearby.

He spotted the shirt at the same time and reached past her with one 
arm to grab it. "Not that I mind, of course," he added quickly with 
a cocky grin as he handed the shirt to her.  She threw him an 
admonishing look and he released her hand long enough for her to 
slide the shirt over her head, the hem falling mid-thigh.  Then she 
raised her eyebrows at him in question and he led her over to the 
sofa.

She sat, indifferent to anything around them except what he had to 
say.  He sat next to her, her hand still in his, and he gave it a 
gentle squeeze.  "First..." he smiled softly, leaning in and kissing 
her lips tenderly, "Good morning."

She looked into his eyes, the previous look of panic in hers 
replaced by a warm glow and a slight smile on her lips.  "Good 
morning.  You're up early."

"Not so early," he replied, tucking the ever-stubborn strand of hair 
behind her ear as he'd done so often in the past.  "I woke up around 
six-thirty.  I watched you sleep a while, then decided I'd go out 
and get the paper before I woke you."

The look in her eyes grew serious.  "Did you find something in this 
morning's paper?" she asked.

"No..." he reached over and picked up a small, battered tin box off 
of the coffee table, turning it over and over in his hands.  "I've 
only read the basketball scores so far."

He grinned, and she grinned back at his predictability, then his 
expression turned somber once again.

"I found this in one of the boxes that you'd packed and stored for 
me."  He took a breath, letting it out slowly before continuing.  
"It's something that I've wanted to give you since I came across it 
cleaning out my mother's house just after she passed away.  We got 
wrapped up in another case...I let too many things get in the 
way...I don't know why I held on to it for as long as I did.  But it 
belongs to you - I guess in a way it always has."  He held it out to 
her, looking into her eyes.  "I want you to have it now."

She swallowed, looking down from his grave face to the box in his 
hand.  "What is it?"  For all she knew, it could be another 
microchip.

Placing the box in her palm, he closed her fingers around it and 
looked into her eyes earnestly.  "Open it."

She studied him a moment, trying to read the masked expression in 
his eyes, then slid the top off of the box, finding a small piece of 
chamois inside.  Unfolding the chamois carefully, she revealed a 
petite antique gold ring, the setting a square cut half-carat 
emerald flanked by two smaller marquis cut quarter-carat diamonds.  
She let out a small breath, her expressive eyebrows rising briefly 
as she examined the ring by holding it up in the light.  The 
craftsmanship was exquisite - it must have been the epitome of 
luxury in its time.  She thought it was even more exquisite with age 
- she'd seen nothing like it adorning the catalog pages and store 
windows.

"It's beautiful," she said at last, her voice catching.

"It's very old.  It was my great-grandmother's," he said softly, 
then swallowed back the lump in his throat.

Her breath hitched and she looked up at him, her eyes clearly the 
most beautiful shade of aquamarine he'd even seen.  His mouth felt 
like cotton as he captured the ring from her fingers and took her 
left hand in his, sliding the ring onto her ring finger while she 
watched silently.

"We'll have to have it sized," he commented with a nervous grin, the 
ring passing over her knuckle with room to spare.

It wasn't that big, really - just a little loose.  She deduced that 
Mulder's great-grandmother must have been where he got his height.  
She smiled, holding it in place with the fingers of her other hand 
while she hunched over to look at it more closely.

"You're the only family I've got left now, Scully," he said 
solemnly.

She didn't look up but from his perspective she looked like she was 
about to cry, her expression a mixture of wonderment and 
overwhelming awe.

"You don't have to say anything right now.  I know you're going to 
want time to think, unless the answer is no...you can go ahead and 
tell me now if it is...just...say it...get it out there."  He 
gestured with his arm to make his point, and swallowed again, 
pausing.  "The ring belongs to you, whatever finger you want to wear 
it on."

She drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly.  She had not been 
expecting this.  "It's beautiful," she said softly and he smiled, 
watching her face and feeling a swell of hope tighten his chest as 
he realized that she wasn't saying no and she wasn't moving the ring 
to another finger.

"It's perfect for you," he replied, and when she looked up at him, 
his face so full of unadulterated love that it made her breath catch 
in her chest.

They gazed at each other a moment, then she looked down once more, a 
tiny smile on her lips as tears filled her eyes, threatening to 
overflow.  She sniffed, wiped her eyes and glanced to the side, the 
newspaper laying on the coffee table falling into her line of 
vision.  Her expression changed to surprise and then shock.

"Oh my God," she said as she sat up straight, reaching out and 
pulling the newspaper onto her lap.

"What?" he asked, reacting off of her alarm.

"This man in this picture on the bottom of the front page.  I've 
seen him before, Mulder."

The caption read, 'Priest Killed In Carjacking Identified' and she 
shook her head, letting out a short huff as she quickly skimmed the 
brief article.

"Father Schroeder was fatally wounded when he stepped between two 
armed men and an older gentleman during a carjacking right here in 
Georgetown two days ago."  She paused, then glanced up at him.   
"That's impossible.  This is the priest who spoke to me following 
the service at St. Cyril's yesterday morning."

Mulder looked down at the photograph, his own eyes growing wide.  
"You're sure?"

"Positive."  

He ran his hand over his face, letting out a long breath.  The man 
in the photograph, Father Schroeder, was Ulrich.  Father Ulrich 
Schroeder.


XxXxXxXxX Chapter Eight


He found himself with a lot of time on his hands while waiting for 
his reinstatement to become official.

He could get into the Hoover Building with a visitor pass arranged 
by Skinner, and Skinner turned a blind eye to his foray into the 
basement to look at the files.  He couldn't visibly remove anything, 
though, unless accompanied by another agent, like Scully or the A.D. 
himself.  But after a full day of nothing but researching files and 
the Internet, using Scully's login and password, he was bored.

There was nothing - NOTHING - about an unusual incident in the 
Mojave Desert during the last week.  No reports of strange weather, 
no satellite photos indicating the presence of a very large imposing 
craft of unknown origin.  No missing person reports to give away 
potential identities of the men working on the project.

Nothing.

He and Scully had been able to go over all of the files they had 
taken home, and some interesting issues were raised, but there 
wasn't anything tangible to tie any of the previous cases to what 
he'd seen and experienced in California.  Everything was related 
somehow, and yet, it was all different.  Like one big cosmic 
coincidence.  The only common denominator was the fact that he and 
Scully had investigated every case.

On the second day, he decided to work on a different approach and 
went to the District of Columbia Medical Examiner's Office, intent 
on doing a brief visual examination of the body of Father Ulrich 
Schroeder.  He was suspicious about the legitimacy of the alleged 
carjacking, and wanted to verify that the man involved was the same 
man he had just spent six months with.  After working so closely 
with Scully all of those years, he'd learned a thing or two about 
gathering all of the facts and examining a dead body.  But the 
Assistant M.E. wouldn't allow him inside to view the body for 
himself.  Accredited officials and next of kin only, he was told.

Scully was still driving out to Quantico every day to wrap up her 
current assignment, and was unable to chaperone him around town and 
act as his badge and credential.  She was trying to help where she 
could, having called the D.C. Assistant M.E. to request a copy of 
the autopsy results on Father Schroeder.  But those results had yet 
to arrive, so there was nothing to do but wait.  To make his boredom 
even more complete, she'd had to work late both nights, finishing 
reports and trying to get everything in order so that she could move 
back to the X Files.  So he didn't even get to have her in the 
evenings.

He didn't know what she would decide about the future of their 
personal relationship, but he was certain that she loved him.  He'd 
never, ever tell her, but he could hear her thoughts while they made 
love the other night - it wasn't intentional, but he was so focused 
on her and what they were doing that they just came through.  He'd 
worked so hard to learn how to use it, he hadn't thought to learn 
how not to.  And he didn't want to - he could finely tune his 
ministrations off of her responses to give her the most pleasure.  

Since he didn't know how to stop it, he considered it a freebie, a 
gift.  Like a wet dream, only better.  And her heightened pleasure 
under his hands only made him more excited.  It was a win/win 
situation, by his estimation.

He went out and ran, partially out of boredom, partially to keep in 
shape, but mostly to work off some of the nervous energy that 
collected in his muscles.  He jogged through the Georgetown streets 
and to the University, listening to people's thoughts as he passed 
them by, just to keep his mind in shape.

Finally, in the early afternoon of the third day following his 
initial reinstatement meeting with Skinner, he was presented with 
his badge, I.D. and Bureau-issued weapon.  In Skinner's office and 
in the presence of his former and now current partner, he grinned 
from ear to ear as he shook Skinner's hand.  He was already planning 
a visit to the D.C.M.E.'s office as soon as they were finished, 
hoping that the body of his acquaintance would still be there so 
both he and Scully could give it a cursory examination.
 
"Now that you officially have a job and an income I assume that 
you'll be getting your belongings out of my storage unit."  The A.D. 
quipped gruffly with a hint of a smile as he stepped back behind his 
desk.

The fact that he and Scully were in effect living together under the 
same roof hadn't come up, even after Skinner had observed Mulder in 
the very hospitable and territorial role of host in Scully's 
apartment.  And although it wasn't of interest to the Bureau in a 
professional sense whether or not they privately shared their bodies 
and a bed, Scully averted her gaze.

Mulder froze for a millisecond, then recovered with, "You mean you 
haven't turned that unit into a rec room yet?" 

Skinner snorted his response and the issue was dropped.  He wasn't 
in any hurry - he wasn't using the unit, anyway.  He had an agenda, 
however, picking up a file that had been sitting on top of his desk.
  
"First order of business, Agent Mulder..." Mulder looked up at the 
A.D. with a questioning glance and a gleam in his eye at the 
deliberate use of his title. 

Skinner glanced up and met his eye, then looked down again, noting 
that his intent was recognized.  "VICAP has a case that was just 
handed over to us by the D.C.P.D. this morning."  He sat, glancing 
over at the two agents as an indication for them to do the same.  
"What appeared to be a gangland style homicide and carjacking has 
all of the earmarks of an international hit.  We've been asked to 
step in and I want the two of you to make it your top priority."

Scully and Mulder shared a look as they sat down, both expelling a 
breath of air as they waited for the A.D. to continue.

He cleared his throat, conscious of the potentially sensitive nature 
of the information he was about to deliver.  "The target was a 
Catholic priest from the Carmelite Institute, a German national by 
the name of..." he paused, flipping open the file in front of him.  
"Father Ulrich Schroeder."

He paused a moment without looking up, then continued.  "The 
intended target of the carjacking has disappeared, his last known 
residence and the registration on his automobile listed the same 
address - a used record and musical paraphernalia store in 
Alexandria.  No one at the store seems to know anything.  As for the 
two suspects..."

He paused again, drawing another breath to shore up his battlements 
for the aftermath of the information has was about to deliver, 
"...witnesses near the scene of the crime have identified one of the 
men from composite books and photographs in the FBI database.  A 
Nicaraguan national by the name of Antonio Cardinale."

Scully's eyes widened and Skinner glanced over at her.  "Cardinale," 
she said in confirmation.

"The younger brother of Luis Cardinale," Skinner replied. 

Scully's hands were clutching the arms of the chair tightly as she 
bowed her head, letting out a frustrated huff.  The fact that Luis 
Cardinale was never brought before a court of law for the murder of 
her sister was a tender spot even still.  Mulder was watching her 
with concern and she looked up, meeting his gaze.  They held an 
extended, wordless conversation - something that Skinner recognized 
as unusual but not completely out of the ordinary, as he'd been 
privy to such exchanges between the two of them on many occasions in 
the past.

This time, however, there was a thick tension in the air.

Skinner was aware of the circumstances of Mulder's disappearance - 
Mulder had given him an abridged account of his time in California 
that didn't include specifics like names, although he knew that Alex 
Krycek was involved.  They had discussed it and agreed to keep the 
reality of Mulder's special ability out of the official report - 
common knowledge within the Bureau of such an ability would only 
serve to subject him to ridicule.  And if word spread, it could 
threaten his credibility and the credibility of the Justice 
Department in the eyes of the more skeptical law enforcement 
agencies. 

What was far worse, if Mulder's ability was to be proven and made 
public, it would turn him overnight into the most powerful and most 
sought-after human being on the planet.  And not solely by those 
with good intentions.  The implications were so far-reaching that it 
had the potential to became a threat to both mankind and to Mulder 
himself, a threat that none of them wanted to see come to fruition, 
regardless of the potential for the good that it could also achieve.

It was the threat to Mulder himself that was Scully's primary 
concern, and from the expression on her face that fact was coming in 
loud and clear to both of the men in the room.  The men who were 
behind her sister's death did not act randomly - they had been there 
to kill her and shot Melissa by mistake.  If the same men were 
involved in the homicide of Father Schroeder, there was a definite 
agenda in place.  And if they knew about Mulder's ability...

Mulder closed his eyes against the searching blue of Scully's, 
running his hand over his forehead as he expelled a long breath of 
air. 

"Is there something I should know about, Agents?"  Skinner asked off 
of their silent argument.

"It looks like Scully and I both happen to have a vested interest in 
this particular case,"  Mulder replied, opening his eyes and briefly 
tipping his head to the side, toward his partner. 

Skinner glanced over at Scully, who looked back at him with her 
shoulders back and her chin raised, her lips pursed in what could 
not be construed as a happy expression.  He knew that look - it was 
the fiercest, most protective of all of the pointed looks in the 
Dana Scully repertoire.  And it only came out when she perceived 
that someone she cared about was about to be harmed in some way, 
whether it was the memory of her sister or Mulder himself.

No way was he going to step in the middle of that.

He looked down, drawing a breath and proceeding cautiously, "What 
kind of an interest?"

"Father Ulrich Schroeder was the other man with Krycek and I in 
California.  He's the one who helped me develop my..." he paused, 
uncertain what was the most appropriate name to assign to his new 
understanding.  "...telepathy," was the word he finally chose.

Skinner sighed and sat back in his chair, his jaw set as he stared 
at Mulder through the glare off of his glasses, making his 
expression unreadable.  "What's his involvement with Alex Krycek?"

Mulder shook his head.  "I don't know.  They weren't allies.  Each 
had his own agenda, but they also worked together out of necessity 
toward the larger goal."  He paused.  "I guess we all did."

Skinner took off his glasses and laid them down on top of his desk, 
pinching the bone between his eyes while he thought about the case.  
Mulder was leaning toward Scully, offering her his silent comfort, 
but Scully remained upright and uptight.  "From the description 
given, the other suspect bears a strong resemblance to Alex Krycek."

Scully turned her head to look at Mulder and Mulder shook his head.  
"I don't believe Krycek is responsible for this."

"You of all people know what Krycek is capable of," Skinner replied 
quickly, sitting up in his seat.  

Mulder was silent, contemplating his words.  Yes, he knew better 
than anyone what Krycek was capable of.  And regardless of their 
recent alliance, Krycek very well could have disposed of Ulrich if 
he felt he didn't need him any longer.

"I want Scully to take a look at the body," he said, his eyes 
holding Skinner's.  "She'll be able to determine if the shooting was 
a deliberate hit or a random act of violence."

Skinner looked at him, then at Scully and back again.  "You'll have 
to settle for the autopsy report.  According to the Medical 
Examiner's office, the body has already been claimed by the church."

"Then we'll go to the church," Mulder replied.


XxXxXxXxX Carmelite Institute, Washington D.C.


"Carmelites are an order, Mulder," Scully explained as they walked 
toward the entrance of the Carmelite Institute, adjusting her stride 
to keep up with his fast pace.  "Members of the order dedicate 
themselves to continuous spiritual growth through theological study 
and education, prayer and ministry, among other things."

"So a priest like Father Schroeder could take off for six months or 
longer without being missed?" Mulder asked, stopping in front of the 
entrance.

"If he was involved in the research of a specific issue that was 
paramount to his spiritual development and the spiritual development 
of others."  She crossed her arms, taking on the stance of the 
lecturer.  "Carmelites walk among the people as prophets, denouncing 
oppression and promoting the oneness of the human race as a whole."

Mulder squinted at her in the late afternoon sun.  "Are you telling 
me that the Catholic Church officially considers extraterrestrial 
life as part of the human race?"

"Why wouldn't they?" Scully countered, surprising him by not arguing 
about the assumptive nature of his statement.  "They've got a vested 
interest in all life.  If it has a soul, it can be saved."

The door opened and a middle-aged man in a black shirt, with the 
traditional collar and black pants stood before them.  "Yes, what 
can I do for you?" he said pleasantly.

They turned toward him, holding up their badges for him to see.

"I'm Special Agent Fox Mulder and this is Special Agent Dana Scully 
with the Federal Bureau of Investigation.  We'd like to talk with 
you about one of the priests associated with your order, a Father 
Ulrich Schroeder."

The man's eyes indicated his understanding and he nodded.  "Ah, yes.  
You'll want to talk with Father Marquette.  I think he would be more 
likely to have the information that you're looking for.  If you'd 
follow me..."

Mulder stepped aside to allow Scully to enter before him, and they 
both followed the priest inside.  The interior was simple, but 
clean; comfortable, but not luxurious.  There was a large crucifix 
on the wall opposite the door and Scully glanced up at it, 
automatically bowing her head briefly as she had been taught in 
childhood.

Their escort noticed and gave her a gentle smile, leading them into 
a small room near the front of the building.  The room contained a 
table surrounded by chairs.  The walls were lined with various 
versions and translations of the Bible, the Apocrypha, the Dead Sea 
Scrolls, publications by the Vatican and other books including 
several that were too large to fit onto shelves vertically so they 
were placed horizontally across the bottom shelves.

"I'll tell Father Marquette you're waiting to see him," he said with 
an amicable nod, and left them alone to peruse the shelves.

Mulder let out a low whistle, running his finger along one of the 
shelves.  "This is some collection.  They've got everything from the 
Koran to the Kabbalah."

Scully had turned over the cover of one of the larger books lying on 
the table.  It was a book of Gregorian chant, with colorful 
calligraphy and secular artwork adorning the pages.  At his comment 
she looked up and glanced around the room.  "I could spend an 
afternoon in here, easily."

Mulder pulled a book off of the shelf on the life of Saint John of 
the Cross just as a white-haired priest shuffled into the room, much 
older than the first man but wearing similar black clothing and 
collar.

"How do you do, I'm Father Marquette," he said to Mulder, who was 
standing closest to the door.  "I understand you're here about 
Father Schroeder."

Mulder stuffed the book back into it's slot and extended his hand to 
the priest.  Scully stepped over to do the same.  "Agents Mulder and 
Scully," she said.

He shook both of their hands and held his hands out for them to sit 
at the table.  "Please."  They sat and he sat next to them, turning 
his chair to face them so that he could converse easier.  "How may I 
be of assistance to you?"

Scully spoke first.  "Father Marquette, I understand from the 
Medical Examiner's office that the church has claimed the body of 
Father Schroeder."

Father Marquette nodded.  "Yes.  Father Schroeder had no living 
family outside of the order - we were his family.  His passing was 
so sudden...we celebrated mass for him and laid him to rest in St. 
Mary's just this morning."

Scully looked at Mulder, who let out a sigh.  An actual visual exam 
of the body would be impossible now.  If only he had been allowed 
into the morgue yesterday, he thought begrudgingly.  "This morning?" 
he said with disappointment.

Father Marquette looked confused.  "Yes.  We were told that they had 
finished with him so we performed last rights and sent him back to 
the Lord."

Mulder nodded, his mouth set in disappointment.  As he stood to 
leave he leaned over to offer his hand to the father.  "Father 
Marquette, thank you for your time."

The father shook his hand, then stood, surprised that the 
conversation was so brief.  He glanced from Mulder to Scully and 
back, his confusion evident.  "I'm sorry I couldn't have been of 
more help to you."

"Thank you for your assistance, Father."  Scully had stood alongside 
Mulder and she offered her hand as well, giving him a tight-lipped 
smile.

He followed them to the door, and Mulder stopped, turning to address 
him once more.  "Did Father Schroeder spend an extended amount of 
time away from the institute recently?"

Father Marquette's face lit up at the opportunity to contribute more 
information.  "Why yes, yes he did.  He was on a spiritual retreat 
for the better part of the year.  He had just returned this weekend, 
spiritually enriched."

Mulder nodded, offering a tight-lipped smile of his own.  It seemed 
likely, then, that Ulrich and Father Ulrich Schroeder was indeed the 
same man, although he wasn't sure about the purported spiritual 
enrichment part of the experience.


XxXxXxXxX Scully residence


Scully had fallen into bed exhausted well past midnight the last two 
nights, and Mulder had been wondering since he'd woken that morning 
to find her gone with a note explaining an early meeting at Quantico 
if any lovemaking would happen between them that night.  He knew 
better than to expect her to want to have sex every single night, or 
every other night for that matter, but he had hoped that she might 
clue him in on what she expected from him now.

They were, after all, together now.  Whatever that meant.

Once he'd had her, he couldn't help it if he wanted it practically 
all of the time now.  They had nothing in their long history to draw 
from in this situation.  After their very first time together as 
lovers it had been over two weeks before they had come together 
again, and even then they were both a little awkward trying to read 
each other's signals on the way there.  Schedules and work 
obligations interfered, and too many years of denying the attraction 
and attempting to keep things platonic created behavioral patterns 
that couldn't be altered by one night of incredible passion.

Still, he hadn't been surprised that their working relationship was 
strengthened by the new intimacy.  It was as if they could be more 
empathetic toward each other's points of view in addition to being 
emphatic in their own.

And once they got past the awkwardness, they found that they were 
very compatible.  They had just found a groove that seemed to be 
working for the both of them when he'd gone off with Krycek.  
Thinking back on it, if he hadn't just finished a long tedious 
assignment on surveillance and in serious need of sleep the night 
Krycek showed up in his apartment he wouldn't have been there alone. 
Or he wouldn't have been there at all.  He'd have been at Scully's 
apartment instead.

That had been months ago, though, and they were still finding their 
way back to that level of intimacy.

It was Friday night and Scully was finished at Quantico, she'd 
reminded him as they left the Institute.  So they had gone out to 
dinner to celebrate his reinstatement and her return to the X-Files.  
It was relatively early when they'd gotten back to her apartment, 
and both agreed when the conversation took a turn toward the events 
of the week that it had been a very long, emotionally taxing week.  
They should probably try to get some rest instead of debating their 
current case into the wee hours of the morning.

The look in her eye and the way she arched her eyebrow at him told 
him otherwise.

While she was in the bathroom brushing her teeth he had changed into 
his pajama bottoms, and he sat on what he now assumed was his 
designated side of the bed.  She turned out the light and exited the 
bathroom barefoot wearing her dark blue silk pajamas, switching off 
the remaining lights in the apartment until there was just one light 
at the side of the bed illuminating the room.  Intermittently she 
rubbed her hands together, the faint smell of scented lotion 
enveloping her, and Mulder stood expectantly to face her as she 
stopped on the opposite side of the bed, her eyes rising to meet 
his.  Her eyes ran over him briefly, as his did hers, then with a 
mutual smile from both of them, they both pulled back the covers and 
slid between the sheets.

She turned off the light and kicked her feet underneath the covers.  
He smiled.  He rolled onto his side to face her and she did the 
same, meeting somewhere in the middle of the bed.  He caressed her 
cheek with his hand, and she leaned in to place a tender kiss 
against his lips.  Kisses grew more intense, gentle caresses became 
enflaming strokes and ultimately they shed their night clothes, 
sliding together with hearts pounding until they both occupied the 
same space.

Much later, he lay on his left side bathed in afterglow, his head 
propped up on his arm as he gazed down on her serene face.  She was 
on her back, her eyes closed.  He knew by the cadence of her 
breathing that she wasn't sleeping, and she emitted a soft hum - 
almost a purr by his estimation. 

It was dark except for the faint light off the street lamp seeping 
in around the edges of the window dressing.  But it was enough for 
him to see the soft curve of her upper lip as he traced a feather 
light trail with the pad of his 
index finger.

"Sleepy?" he asked softly.

"Hmmmm...relaxed," she replied with a gentle sigh.

Her voice was light and airy...it was what he'd come to know as her 
unguarded tone.  Others might call it pillow talk whisper.  Either 
way, he loved it.  He loved everything about her.

He loved HER.

He ran his finger up the side of her cheek slowly, along her temple 
and over her eyebrows, his touch gentle and the upward tilt of her 
lips showing him her contentment.  His finger traveled down the 
bridge of her nose, over her lips once again, up the line of her jaw 
and traced the shell of her ear before she opened her eyes, blinking 
at the ceiling in the darkness.

"Mulder?" 

"Hmmm?" he hummed, leaning down to press his lips against her 
forehead as his hand moved slowly down the middle of her chest.

"Do you believe the man that I spoke with outside of St. Cyril's is 
in fact the same man you were with in California?"

He was silent a moment, his hand running up and down her bare arm 
before he slid his fingers under hers, entwining them at the tips.  
"I wouldn't rule it out."

She gave his fingers a squeeze.  "And you're certain that it's the 
same man who was involved in the carjacking."

Again, he was silent, thinking before responding to her question.  
"From the post-mortem photographs in the file Skinner gave us and 
our conversation with Father Marquette, yes.  Unless Ulrich had an 
identical twin, but Father Marquette said that he had no living 
relatives."

Scully's brow furrowed slightly as she thought about the situation.  
Mulder slid his index finger across the gold band of the antique 
ring she was wearing.  Some time in the last few days she must have 
had it sized - it fit perfectly now.  They hadn't discussed it since 
he gave it to her, but the fact that she was still wearing the ring 
on her left hand was a good sign.

"I'm beginning to believe that there are no such things as 
coincidences."  She said at last.

"What do you mean?"

"If that was Father Schroeder who I spoke with, then he must have 
been there for a reason."

He lifted her left hand up to his lips, kissing the ring softly.  
"What reason?  You said he spoke to you about free will."

"He spoke about using our free will in a way that will benefit 
ourselves and others."  She specified, entwined their fingers again 
and holding his tighter this time.  "How we choose to act and 
respond to the people around us."

"How is that different than what you already do every day?  You 
can't deny that a lot of people benefit from the work that we do."

She drew in a long breath and held it, then let it out slowly.  "I 
know.  That was part of it, I think.  For me to return to the X 
Files."

"And the other part?"

Reaching her right hand up, she placed her palm against his cheek, 
stroking her thumb over his lips.  "That's what I've been thinking 
about.  I think it was much more specific than that.  He asked me 
directly if I enjoyed the gospel - the sermon the pastor had given."

He turned his face, kissing her palm, then leaning into her touch.  
"What did you say?"

"I told him that it came at a time when I had issues that I needed 
to resolve.  And he asked me if there were others involved.  But you 
know, Mulder, the way he asked it, it was like he already knew.  
Like he knew me, knew what was going on inside of me."

"So what are you saying?  You think he was reading your thoughts?"

She held her breath a moment.  "No, not my thoughts..." she paused, 
considering the best way to phrase it.  "My heart.  He looked at me 
so strangely, almost intimately.  It was as if he could see 
everything I was feeling."

She looked up at him, and he looked down at her with eyes shining, 
smiling.  His look was both amused and adoring, as he knew it wasn't 
an easy admittance for her.  Her admitting it so freely enthralled 
him to no end.

She grinned, understanding that he was pleased with her openness, 
and rolled over onto her side to face him, mirroring his pose 
and propping her head up with her hand.

"You know...I've been thinking about what Skinner said today, 
Mulder...ARE you going to get another apartment?"

Still smiling, he tucked her hair behind her ear before replying, 
"I've gotta do something with my furniture.  Skinner isn't going to 
keep it forever."

"There are alternatives, of course..."

He studied her face.  "Such as...?"

She looked down at the space between them on the bed, running her 
index finger up the back of his wrist.  "What would you say if I 
asked you..." she paused, rethinking her approach, then looked back 
up at him.  "Would you consider staying here...living here?"

He blinked at her, reading her expression.  Her look was vulnerable 
and he was about to ask her where SHE intended to live, but from the 
tone of her voice he understood what she was asking.

"What, you mean like a trial run?"

"No,"  she replied.  "I mean..." she let out a breath, then drew 
another one in, "like people do when they make a lifelong commitment 
to each other."

His expression was slightly dazed, slightly amused as he took in her 
words.  His heart was pounding and he wanted to be sure that he 
understood her correctly.

"You're saying you've made a decision?  You want to buy the 
proverbial cow, Scully?  Even when you're already getting the milk 
for free?"

Mulder called upon humor in times of stress and she grinned at his 
teasing, then her expression grew solemn.

"I'm saying if we're going to do this, then let's do it.  Let's call 
my family priest and set a date, Mulder.  In my church or in a park 
or even in the basement of the Hoover Building if that's your 
inclination...so long as it's in front of God, my priest and my 
family and anybody else who wants to witness the event I want to 
stand up with you and entrust you with everything that I have within 
me to give."

His mouth fell open and all of the air left his lungs.  He blinked 
at her a few moments, then swallowed.

"Alright," he nodded, swallowing again as his mouth had suddenly 
gone dry.  "Let's do it.  The location and participants are 
irrelevant to me as long as you're there."

She smiled at him, a full-on, brilliant, light-up-her-whole-face 
smile.  His eyes shone as he climbed out of the bed, coming around 
to her side and wrapping the top sheet around her, picking her up 
off of the bed.

"Mulder!" she exclaimed with a laugh, "What are you doing?"

"I wanna dance with you.  We need to practice for the reception," he 
replied with a wide grin as he carried her giggling out into the 
living room.

"I didn't say anything about a reception," she quipped as he powered 
the stereo on with his elbow.  Bryan Ferry was loaded in the CD 
player and he let her slide down to the floor gently, waiting as she 
gathered the sheets up around her in a makeshift toga before he 
pulled her back into his arms.  Then they began swaying with the 
music, looking into each other's eyes with mutual amusement and 
affection.

She had to stand on her toes to reach his lips and she placed a soft 
kiss there.  He laid his cheek against hers.

"I'm not letting anyone cut in, either," he whispered.  "Not 
Skinner, not your brother who thinks I'm the worse thing in the 
world for you, not even Frohike.  I'm going to keep you all to 
myself."

"I know what's best for me, Mulder, not my brothers or anyone else," 
she whispered.

He smiled, his cheek curving against hers.

The sound of the deadbolt on her front door being slid back was loud 
enough for them to hear, but in their collective state of undress 
they scarcely had time to turn and face the door, let alone locate 
their weapons left on the beside table.  Time seemed to move in slow 
motion as they watched the door swing open to reveal the intruder on 
the other side.

Alex Krycek stood cloaked in the shadow of the doorway, his 
silhouette enough to indicating his identity.  Mulder had turned 
Scully so that she was behind him, effectively blocking her from 
Krycek's direct line of vision.

Scully's breathing had grown heavy and he knew she was angry enough 
to attack as she wriggled out from behind him.  "Scully, wait..." he 
said, holding her by the shoulders.  "Don't you ever knock?" he 
snapped at Krycek without thinking.

Of course he never knocked.  This wasn't a social visit.  Alex 
Krycek didn't make social visits.  They couldn't see his eyes 
through the shadows as he took in the image before him, but despite 
the flash of amusement that passed through them, Krycek's voice was 
all business.

"Put some pants on, Mulder.  We've located another one."


XxXxXxXxX Chapter Nine
Skinner Residence


Waking in the middle of the night to the summons of the telephone 
never meant good news, and a chill ran down his spine when he heard 
her voice issue one single word from the other end.

"Sir?"

"What is it, Scully?" he asked thickly, his voice rough from sleep.  
He didn't need to ask - he knew it was about Mulder.  With the 
appearance of Krycek in his parking garage and the connection with 
the murdered priest it was only a matter of time before something 
else happened. 

Her voice was controlled but she spoke a little too quickly for 
normal circumstances.  "Agent Mulder and I will be going out of town 
for a few days, Sir, pertaining to the case we were assigned today.  
We'll check in as soon as possible, as always."

He paused a moment at the oddness in the way she spoke.  But he was 
relieved that it wasn't another Mulder disappearance or worse.  At 
least she'd be there to back him up this time, hopefully keeping him 
out of trouble.  "See that you do, Agent Scully," was all that he 
said, and with that she hung up.

Skinner replaced the phone in the cradle and laid back against the 
pillow.  'As always' stuck out like a sore thumb, although the 
entire conversation was unusual.  Mulder and Scully didn't make it a 
habit of informing him about their whereabouts and he usually found 
out about their forays out of town after the fact.  But it was the 
two words, 'as always' that made up his mind.  Scully was placing 
him on alert.  He would make sure he knew exactly where Mulder and 
Scully were and what they were doing by whatever means he had 
available to him.
 

XxXxXxXxX


Hanging up the telephone, Scully turned her back on Krycek, who was 
standing in front of the window looking out into the darkness.  She 
shrugged on her jacket as Mulder walked out of the bedroom pulling 
his T-shirt down over his abdomen.  He had put on his tennis shoes, 
but hadn't bothered to tie the laces.  Scully passed by him on her 
way back to the bedroom to collect her weapon and cel phone - Bryan 
Ferry was still playing softly on the stereo and she hit the power 
button with the heel of her palm as she passed by.

Nothing like the appearance of Alex Krycek to kill a mood.

At Krycek's insistence, Mulder drove the three of them to the 
airport in Scully's car.  This time, they would be traveling on a 
commercial airline courtesy of the Federal Bureau of Investigation.  
Krycek had directed them to Baltimore where he'd reserved three 
tickets on a 5:30 a.m. flight and Mulder raced down the 95 toward 
BWI, unconcerned as Scully usually was with the posted speed limit.  
There was hardly anyone on the road at this hour, anyway.

All joking about her propensity for speeding aside, he was both 
relieved and concerned that Krycek agreed to bring Scully along this 
time.  In fact, it hadn't even been an issue, it was just assumed 
that she would accompany them both.  If she could indeed be tracked 
via the implant in her neck, then Krycek was no longer concerned if 
the men behind the resurgence of the conspiracy knew her location.  
It was certain that news of his own reinstatement at the Bureau was 
already common knowledge.  Sadly, the halls of the Justice 
Department could not discriminate between the just and those unknown 
informants who were willing to share information for the right 
price.  Based on this it was evident that, as opposed to the last 
time, their involvement wasn't meant to be a secret.

Scully had been silent since she'd dressed and pulled a few things 
together for their trip.  He knew from the expression she wore that 
she was quietly seething in the presence of Alex Krycek.  But he 
also knew that she was thinking about the situation, breaking it 
down and examining the evidence like the top-rate investigator that 
she was.  He would have beat the crap out of Krycek himself if he 
hadn't held a gun to his head the last time he showed up for a road 
trip.  He wasn't one of his favorite people now, but knowing that 
Krycek was trying to achieve the same objective that they sought, he 
could only try to keep the peace until they'd finished what they 
started.

After that, Krycek was on his own.

In fact, if he wasn't doing all of the driving, and nighttime 
driving at that, he'd focus on Krycek's thoughts for more 
information about where they were going and what he knew about the 
E.B.E.  But as tired as he was, he knew it was doubtful he'd be able 
to make a connection, let alone sustain it for a decent amount of 
time.  He'd have to make due with what Krycek was willing to divulge 
for the time being.

Scully, however, had evidently reached her limit on unanswered 
questions, preferring to take the direct approach.

"What exactly is your involvement with Antonio Cardinale, Krycek?" 
she asked in her most severe voice, breaking the silence the three 
of them had endured since they'd belted themselves into the car.

Krycek held his mouth in a straight line, staring at the road ahead 
from the middle of the back seat.  "There is no involvement," he 
replied.

"You deny that you were present when Cardinale shot Father 
Schroeder?"  Scully asked, her lips pursed and her eyebrow raised in 
question.  She received no confirmation and she looked over at 
Mulder, who was staring ahead, down the road out into the darkness.

If he was surprised to hear the news, he didn't show it.

"I wasn't there," Krycek said after a long silence, his timbre less 
defensive as the sound of the tires on the asphalt marked the 
passing seconds.  "But I know who's behind it."

"Who?"  Scully asked, still on the offensive as she turned slightly 
in her seat to make eye contact with him.

Krycek swallowed, looking back at her steadily.  These two could 
glare at each other for days without flinching and Mulder would be 
hard-pressed to choose which one would falter first.  He doubted it 
would be Scully, knowing the strength of her will.

Scully had read an answer to her question in Krycek's steady gaze.  
"Smoking man," she replied flatly, looking at him with contempt.

Mulder began to grit his teeth.  He'd figured out that old C.G.B. 
was involved somehow, but hearing it confirmed only infuriated him.  
He glanced at Scully, seeing the frustration in her posture as well.  
She turned and faced forward once more, letting out a huff and 
resting her elbow against the car door, covering her mouth with her 
hand as she looked out the side window into the darkness.   


XxXxXxXxX


They were going to Sedona.

Their flight connected through Atlanta, where they transferred from 
a MD-80 to a Boeing 757 bound for Phoenix Sky Harbor International 
Airport.  Mulder and Scully were assigned to seats D and F with seat 
E vacant, while Krycek was seated on the other side of the plane, 
four rows ahead.  Mulder had taken care of the seat assignments 
himself and it was the most distance between Krycek and he and 
Scully that he could arrange without switching someone to first 
class.

Scully had spent most of the first leg of the trip staring out the 
window at nothing but clouds.  Mulder knew she needed time to think, 
to deal with her emotions and set them aside so that she could focus 
on the work ahead of them.  He had spent six months coming to terms 
with Alex Krycek and all of the damage that he had done in their 
lives.  He did not forgive him, but he knew that Krycek wanted to 
put and end to the conspiracy once and for all just as badly as he 
did.  He had to put that above his personal feelings about the man's 
lack of morals and the methods by which he achieved his goals.

He had attempted to tune into Krycek's thoughts during that flight 
to Atlanta, but he was drained from the lack of sleep and couldn't 
focus enough to catch more than the random thoughts of the other 
passengers.

After they were airbound out of Atlanta, Scully turned toward her 
partner, her eyes weary but determined.  "Why Sedona, Mulder?" she 
asked, her voice belying her fatigue.

She was letting him know that she'd put her issues with Krycek 
aside, temporarily.  She had been considering the question of their 
destination off and on since they left Baltimore, and now she wanted 
his input.

Mulder unfastened his seatbelt and moved the arm rest out of the way 
so he could stretch out and scoot closer to her.

"It makes sense, Scully," he replied.  "Some people believe that 
Sedona is the place the Native Americans called Nawanda, a place of 
spiritual growth where they would seek what the Great Spirit wanted 
for their lives.  It's been said that 'Star People' had touched down 
in ancient times, and that the Native Americans kept in contact with 
other Galactic peoples for centuries.  The special energies and 
frequencies in Sedona make it easier for them."

"Special energies?" Scully replied, watching him with a mixed look 
of skepticism and curiosity.

"The Vortexes.  Sedona has four major and several other minor 
vortexes within a ten mile radius."

"Vortexes," she parroted.

"Energy fields, positive and negative, yin and yang.  Like what we 
experienced on our first case together in Bellefleur when the rental 
car went ballistic."  

She raised her eyebrow at him in acknowledgement and he continued 
with a slight grin at the shared memory.  "Biologist Lyall Watson 
wrote that the earth's magnetic field is riddled with local 
deviations and irregularities.  These faults have been very 
carefully plotted and the most persistent of them have become quite 
notorious, such as the Bermuda Triangle and Stonehenge.  Native 
Americans believe there's a powerful vortex on the island of Kauai, 
also red-rock country, like Sedona."

"So what is it in the red rocks that makes it so powerful?" she 
asked.

"Iron oxide and silica," he replied.

Her brow furrowed as her mind processed and catalogued all of the 
information he'd just spewed.  She knew iron oxide and silica were 
good conductive agents.  "So you're saying that because of its 
geological makeup, Sedona is some kind of Grand Central for 
spacecraft?"

"Spacecraft, witches, New-Agers, metatphysicians, psychics, 
astrologers, mediums, healers, vegetarians..."

The last part earned him a slight smile and arched brow.  "That begs 
the question, why haven't we been to this place before?"

"Too obvious," Mulder replied.  "Harmonic convergence and all of 
that crap."

She let out a soft snort before falling silent again, lost in 
thought.  Mulder was reminded of the time he had belittled her 
sister's beliefs in alternative forms of spiritual enlightenment.  
'Just because it's positive and good doesn't make it silly or 
trite!' Melissa had told him when he called it crap to her face, 
trying to get him to pull his head out of his ass and admit his 
feelings for the younger Scully.

He reached out with his right hand to take Scully's left, his 
fingers glancing over the ring like a testimonial.  It took them 
more than six years since that day, but they finally got one thing 
right - they both knew how they felt about each other.  He had to 
give Melissa credit for seeing it so clearly then.  He only wished 
that she was here to see it now.

Scully herself had come a long way in the last several years toward 
accepting some of the less traditional methods of healing and 
investigation.  She told him about the holistic healer she'd called 
in to help her friend Daniel when he'd slipped into a coma.  She 
believed that it was the alternative approach, rather than medicine, 
that may have brought Daniel out of the coma and back to the road of 
recovery.

Much like Melissa had done to Scully's comatose body all those years 
ago.

Scully looked up at him, their eyes meeting.  She had endured more 
than anyone because of the project and the conspiracy surrounding 
it, and he reached over with his left hand, gently running a finger 
down the side of her face.  "After this is all finished, Scully, I 
promise you that justice WILL be served and the people who have 
caused so much suffering because of this project will be held 
accountable."

Her eyes clouded and she let out a long breath.  So many people had 
suffered.  She knew it would be fruitless to even try to seek 
restitution - these people were constantly beyond the reach of the 
law and to expect results through the judicial system would be a 
wasted effort.  But she did believe that Mulder would do his best 
and make every possible effort toward that goal.

"I hope so, Mulder," she said wearily, laying her head back against 
the seat and closing her eyes.  "God, I do hope so."


XxXxXxXxX Federal Bureau of Investigation, Washington, D.C.


By 8 a.m. Skinner knew that they had purchased two tickets to 
Phoenix via Atlanta, with another connecting flight to Flagstaff.

He confirmed through Delta Airlines that Agents Dana Scully and Fox 
Mulder had indeed boarded both the Atlanta and Phoenix flights, but 
he wasn't aware that Alex Krycek was with them, and under an assumed 
name, had purchased his own ticket with cash.

Skinner had his suspicions, though.  They didn't take off abruptly 
in the middle of the night without a very good reason, Mulder's 
enthusiasm notwithstanding.  Since it was officially the weekend, if 
they'd gone to Las Vegas he might have assumed otherwise, having 
noticed the nice gold ring she'd been wearing the last couple of 
days.  And Scully didn't seem to him like a woman who under any 
amount of persuasion would agree to run off to get married in the 
Elvis Chapel of Love.

So he called the Phoenix Field Office and asked the S.A.C. if he had 
anyone available to go down to the airport with a digital camera and 
get shots of every passenger boarding the 10:51 a.m. Mesa Airlines 
flight to Flagstaff.  It took a little negotiating and he ended 
owing the man a favor, but by 2:10 p.m. Eastern Standard Time he had 
the proof via email on the screen in front of him.  Alex Krycek was 
with them.

One telephone call ensured that he was on United Flight 1493 to 
Phoenix out of Dulles at 5:45 p.m.


XxXxXxXxX


Mulder drove the rented Ford Crown Victoria past the tall pine trees 
and out of Flagstaff on Highway 179. The window was cracked on his 
side so that he could feel the crisp, pine-scented air on his face, 
helping him stay awake and alert as he navigated the mountain road.  
The road edged a few very steep drops and he forced himself not to 
look out at the breathtakingly beautiful mountains capped with 
clouds.  Thankfully, he'd stopped at a news stand in Phoenix and 
picked up some sunflower seeds.

Scully had fallen asleep on his shoulder after their conversation 
when they'd left Atlanta and slept until their approach into 
Phoenix.  He was going on 32 hours since he last slept, and as the 
steep road gave way to the safety of the forest in Oak Creek Canyon 
he allowed himself a small sigh of relief.  

Neither Mulder nor Scully had spoken to Krycek unless completely 
necessary since they had disembarked from the plane in Phoenix and 
caught the puddle-jumper to Flagstaff.  Krycek wasn't much of a 
conversationalist, but even if he had been they'd kept it strictly 
business.  They were going to get the job done and get the Hell out 
of there, which made it a quiet drive.

As they neared Sedona, Mulder began to grow aware of his retreating 
fatigue, replaced by a feeling of buoyancy that left him fidgeting 
in his seat.  To his right, Scully was sitting up straight, her blue 
eyes wide as she watched the beautiful scenery unfold, mile after 
mile.  Every once and a while a slight smile would float across her 
lips, followed by a deep breath and slow exhalation of air.  Then 
she would glance at him, their eyes meeting briefly.  He wondered if 
she was feeling it, too.

It really was beautiful.  Maybe they'd come back here when they 
could enjoy it, just the two of them, he thought.

"Now that we're here, where exactly are we going?" Mulder asked 
Krycek as they crossed into the Sedona city limits.  There were a 
lot of galleries, he noticed, but he didn't think they would be 
doing any gazing at art on this particular visit.  He had been 
feeling uneasy about Krycek's lack of forthcoming information, 
telling them only what was necessary when it was necessary.

"Straight ahead," Krycek replied.  A few minutes later they reached 
a stoplight at the crossroad to Highway 89A, and Krycek instructed 
Mulder to turn right and follow the highway.

Instead, Mulder pulled into the parking lot of a Burger King and 
stopped the car.  "I need to stretch my legs for a minute," he said, 
opening the door and climbing out.  "Scully, you want something to 
drink?" he asked, bending over and looking back at her through the 
open car door.

She was already unfastening her seatbelt.  "I'll get it myself."

As they walked toward the entrance, Krycek got out of the back, 
leaning against the car in the direct sunlight.

"Mulder, what's going on?" Scully asked as he opened the door to the 
restaurant for her and followed her in.

"Don't you feel it, Scully?"

"Feel what?"

"The energy.  I feel like I could run a marathon and just an hour 
ago I could barely keep my eyes open.  It's amazing."

She stepped into line behind a thirtysomething couple in matching 
pink polo shirts scrutinizing the overhead menu with hesitation.  
Mulder was headed for the men's room.

"What do you want to drink?" Scully called to him.

"Whatever you're having," he replied as the couple in front of her 
argued about sodium versus fat content.

In the restroom, Mulder entered one of the stalls and turned the 
latch behind him.  He sat on the toilet without dropping his jeans, 
and took a deep breath, willing his breathing to slow.  Closing his 
eyes, he focused on the light, expanding the point wider and broader 
until it filled him.  It came so quickly that he nearly lost 
concentration, all of his senses suddenly aware of everything within 
and surrounding him.  The voices were crystal clear...someone 
considering if sugar wouldn't be preferable to Nutrasweet...Scully 
wondering if she should get two sodas or one super-size...

He paused on Scully a moment, feeling the warm liquid sensation of 
her thoughts inside of his head.  Although she was merely ordering a 
soda, it reminded him of the evening before, hearing her thoughts 
while he was inside of her.  But sex wasn't something he should be 
dwelling on at the moment, he decided, so he moved on.  Just beyond 
was his intended target...

Krycek.

He was watching a woman in shorts at a gas station across the 
Highway, filling up her Jeep Wrangler.  Krycek was thinking about 
sex, too, but not in a complimentary way for the innocent young 
woman - he had her placed in a position of submission but extreme 
willingness to perform to his whims.  Mulder stayed with him through 
the fantasy, though he was thoroughly disgusted, finding Krycek's 
thoughts dirtier than any triple X film he'd ever watched.  Part of 
the reason was he knew that it had little to do with sex and 
everything to do with control.  

Krycek had some serious control issues.  

As the girl unknowingly climbed into her vehicle and drove away, 
Krycek's thoughts shifted away down the highway, wondering how far 
they were from enchantment.  Scully must have walked out of the 
restaurant at that moment and drew Krycek's attention.  Rather than 
risk hearing something equally disgusting about his future wife and 
being forced to beat the living crap out of the sick fuck before 
they got where they were going, he broke the connection, blowing out 
a long breath.

Opening his eyes, he took a few more deep breaths.  He'd barely 
broken a sweat and he wiped his brow with tissue, surprised.  He'd 
been so tired earlier.  Perhaps the energy from the vortexes was 
enhancing his ability, he guessed.  Never since he'd learned how to 
use the ability had it been so quick or easy - he felt like he could 
have gone on for hours.  Exiting the stall, he washed up in the 
sink, running his hands through his hair before drying them on a 
paper towel and going out to rescue Scully from probable, and 
gratefully, incognizant defamation.

Along the way, he wondered what Krycek's twisted idea of enchantment 
might be.

Krycek was already sitting in the back seat and when Mulder appeared 
Scully climbed into the passenger seat, handing him the super-size 
diet cola as he slid in behind the wheel.  He accepted the drink, 
took a sip, handed it back to her with a look of gratitude and then 
folded his hands in his lap.

Krycek was looking out the window, and after a moment, realized that 
Mulder hadn't started the car.  He looked up at him, and saw that he 
was being watched through the rearview mirror.  "Down the highway, 
make a left out of the parking lot," he said. 

"No," Mulder said firmly, "not until you tell us exactly where we're 
going and what you think we're going to find once we get there."

"You're wasting valuable time," Krycek replied.  The muscle in his 
jaw twitched as he clenched his teeth, and he and Mulder stared at 
each other for a long, tense moment before Krycek assented.
  
"Alright."  He paused, letting out an impatient huff.  "We need to 
get to a canyon just off of the highway.  Near one of the major 
vortexes."

"Why?" Scully asked, "what's in the canyon?"

"The E.B.E.," Krycek replied.  "We may already be too late.  They're 
not going to leave it there for long, they'll want to take it 
somewhere secure to be analyzed."

Scully and Mulder exchanged a look.  "Then why did they leave it in 
the canyon?" Mulder asked.

"It needs the energy.  Look, can we at least talk about this on the 
way?" Krycek asked impatiently, "The name of the canyon is Boynton.  
Boynton Canyon."

Mulder started the car and Scully pulled the roadmap courtesy of 
Lariat Car Rental out of the glove box.  Her finger quickly ran up 
the line representing Highway 89A.  "It's right here, Mulder.  
Boynton Canyon."

Mulder pulled out of the parking lot onto the highway.  He was 
intrigued by the notion that the E.B.E. needed energy from the 
vortex.  If the raised energy level in Sedona affected him so 
strongly, what would direct contact with a major vortex do to the 
E.B.E.?


XxXxXxXxX Chapter Ten
Sedona, Arizona


'So, Enchantment is a resort,' Mulder thought as they made the turn-
off on Dry Creek Road from Highway 89A.  After nearly five minutes,  
a sign indicated that Boynton Canyon was to the left, so he followed 
that road, then made another right when the sign indicated the 
canyon was that way.

He could see the grandeur of the canyon from the road.

Public parking and access to the canyon was ahead to the right, 
whereas the resort was straight ahead on the access road.  In the 
distance he could just make out the tall green fencing commonly 
found around tennis courts.  After all, there's architecture that's 
unobtrusive, and then there's necessity.  'What's a resort without 
tennis?' he thought.  No doubt there was a nice green golf course 
nearby as well.

There were a lot of cars in the public parking lot near Boynton 
Canyon, and Mulder braked in the middle of it, just looking at them 
all.  

"Am I supposed to believe that there's an extraterrestrial 
biological entity sitting out there in a public park filled with 
tourists?" Scully asked, her voice flat as she looked over the lot.

"Maybe it has the ability to make itself invisible," Mulder replied, 
not without mirth, turning his face to offer a grin when she shot 
him a look.  She didn't smile, but he did notice a spark in her eyes 
indicating that she appreciated his tease.

"It's there," Krycek replied with conviction, leaning forward in his 
seat.  "Park the car."

Mulder pulled into a nearby parking space and stopped the car, then 
sat back in the seat, dropping his hands from the steering wheel.  

"Now what?" he asked Krycek in the rearview mirror.

"Let's go find ourselves an alien," Krycek replied, a near grin on 
his face as he opened the back passenger side door.  He almost 
seemed like he was having fun.

Scully glanced at Mulder and he met her look, then they both 
unlatched their seatbelts and climbed out of the car.  Scully looked 
ahead toward the trail, assessing the area.  Of course, she hadn't 
thought to wear suitable shoes.  But then again, she hadn't been 
forewarned that they would be hiking in Arizona.  She'd get by, 
though - she always did, Mulder reminded himself.  She never 
complained about it, either.

She had plenty of other things to say, however.

"Mulder," she whispered as they followed a few yards behind Krycek 
through the parking lot, "you can't possibly be falling for this."

"What do you mean?" he asked her, leaning closer.

To their left a group of middle aged women gathered around another 
woman, who was addressing the group.  The speaker was tall, with a 
long silver braid and wearing a black turtleneck, long black skirt 
and what looked like riding boots, black.  There were silver cuff 
bracelets on each of her wrists and large silver hoops dangling from 
her earlobes.  Around her neck she wore a long silver chain with 
what looked like a large quartz crystal hanging from the end.

"...this vortex is a balance between the masculine energy, which we 
talked about when we visited the Airport Vortex, and feminine 
energy, as we experienced at Cathedral Rock.  Finding a balance of 
energy is extremely important, as it is in our every day lives.  
Having a masculine/feminine balance is important to our 
relationships as it strengthens those qualities that make 
relationships work well, honesty, openness, intimacy and 
commitment."  

The woman started walking as she spoke and the others followed, 
about ten yards behind Scully and Mulder.  "As we walk toward the 
vortex, we'll also have an opportunity to talk about the medicine 
wheel and the healing effects it can have..."

"I mean," Scully continued, "that I find it extremely unlikely that 
we're going to find anything extraterrestrial in a canyon full of 
people looking for some meaning or purpose to their comfortable 
lives in what appears to be the New Age equivalent of Disneyland."

Mulder let out a snort.  "You think they're charging admission?" he 
teased.

"...ask that you please do not disturb or remove anything from the 
area, even the smallest rock," the woman speaking to the group was 
saying, "out of respect for the Native American spirits who reside 
here.  If you would like a vortex-charged item to take home with 
you, such as a crystal or a chakra stimulating pin or bracelet 
specially designed by local Native American artisans, there are 
special items available through our catalog or life-force shop that 
the spirits have given us permission to offer to you on their 
behalf.  And as participants in this tour, we can offer these items 
to you today at an extra fifteen percent off of the original price."

Scully raised an eyebrow at Mulder as if to say, 'see what I mean?' 
and he grinned back at her.

She always was a tough sell.

Krycek was waiting at the entrance to the trail, pressing against 
his temples with the thumb and forefinger of his right hand.

"How far, do you think?" Mulder asked him, stepping onto the soft 
dirt at the entrance to the trail marked BOYNTON CANYON TRAIL NO. 
47.  He looked up at the sky, noticing that the ominous clouds that 
had been hugging the mountaintops as they drove into town were now 
growing darker and moving their way.

"That's up to you, wonderboy," Krycek replied with a smirk, dropping 
his hand to his side.  "Ask It how we can reach It."

Mulder stood still, placing his hands on his hips as he looked down 
the trail, seeing several hikers coming and going in opposite 
directions.  "It doesn't work that way.  I have to have a target to 
focus on and this place is full of people who will create 
interference."
 
Scully was looking down the trail with her head cocked to one side, 
almost as if she recognized someone or something, and she started 
walking down the path by herself without turning to look back at her 
companions.  Mulder noticed her out of the corner of his eye.  
"Scully, what are you doing?" he called out to her, and when she 
didn't reply, he followed, catching up to her with several long 
strides.

"Scully?" he said again, "what is it?"

Scully shook her head, standing still but continuing to look down 
the path.  "I was wrong, Mulder," she said.  "I think there may be 
something here."

"What?" he asked, and when she didn't reply, he touched her face and 
turned it toward him.  "Scully?" he said again.  She was beginning 
to make him feel a little nervous...reminding him once again that 
she carried an electronic device in the back of her neck...a device 
that they knew little about.

"I don't know," she replied carefully, her eyes wide and sincere as 
they looked into his, "but we need to see what is in that canyon."

"Scully..." Mulder prodded, still concerned.

"What do those rock formations remind you of, Mulder?" she asked, 
pointing toward several large red-tinted pinnacles to the north of 
them.

He looked at the formations.  His brow furrowed, and he sucked on 
his lip, then let it go as the answer came to him.

"I saw similar formations near Trona."

Krycek had passed them just moments after Mulder reached her, and 
was at least fifty yards ahead of them on the trail by the time they 
turned together toward the path.  His steps were heavy, labored, 
although he was moving at a fairly quick pace.  Scully and Mulder 
started up the trail behind him, caught up with him and then passed 
him at the fork to another trail leading up a hill.

Mulder could feel the energy increase in intensity.  To his right 
there was what appeared to be a dry creek bed, and the energy seemed 
stronger there, as if it were flowing through it.  Scully was just a 
few steps ahead of him, and her gait was light and easy.  There was 
a near bounce in the way she moved, and he was pretty certain that 
she could feel the energy, too.  The wind had kicked up, teasing the 
edges of her hair into her face, but she reached up and pushed it 
away before he had the chance to think that he might like to do it 
for her.

"Mulder, look at this tree," she called to him, stopping to examine 
a Juniper tree growing along the trail.  "It's twisted into a 
spiral."

Mulder looked up at the tree, his hands on his hips.  "They all 
are," he replied, looking at the other trees nearby.  Farther ahead, 
they could see that the trees became even more twisted.

As they walked Krycek was having an increasingly difficult time 
keeping the pace.  He would trip on exposed tree roots, his feet 
leaden and his bearing slow, as if he could hardly lift his feet.  
He was having trouble navigating around some of the juniper 
branches, and scrub brush that seemed to be completely off of the 
path for Mulder and Scully scratched at him, catching his clothing 
and even the skin on his face and neck.

Scully and Mulder easily navigated past the plants and rocks on the 
path, their feet seemingly gliding above the ground rather than 
touching it.  Turning a bend, they came upon a huge boulder, with a 
woman sitting in lotus position atop it, her eyes closed and her 
body relaxed in meditation.  Scully took a moment to look back.

Krycek had stopped back by the juniper tree they had examined, bent 
at the waist and back heaving from his labored breathing.  Scully 
reached out and took hold of Mulder's hand to stop him, and a charge 
went through them, rolling down one arm to the other through their 
joined hands.  They both jumped back in surprise.

"What the Hell was that?" Scully asked, her heart pounding.

Mulder was looking at his hand, massaging his tricep.  "I don't 
know," he replied.  "Give me your hand."  He held his hand out and 
she looked at him, then down at his hand, tentatively reaching out 
to clasp it with her own.

It happened again, but when she moved to release the connection 
Mulder held on tighter.  The sensation was moving past his arm, 
through his upper body and spreading.  "Wait," he said softly, his 
eyes holding hers.

Her breathing increased, and her eyes grew wide as the sensation 
grew within her.  "Mulder..." she whispered, fighting it.

"Just go with it, Scully," he replied softly.  "Trust me."

His eyes held hers, and after a few seconds her shoulders relaxed 
and her breathing slowed down, her body growing accustomed to the 
foreign sensation that was now coursing through the whole of it.  
She looked down at their joined hands with a look of awe, and he 
could see by the expression on her face that it was not an 
unpleasant feeling once she accepted it.  It was nothing more than 
the simple experiments she probably conducted in high school science 
class, but there was no visible source for the initial current. 

She raised her eyes back to his, slow smiles spreading across both 
of their faces.  They were each giving and receiving the current, 
from one to the other, back and forth, again and again until the 
feeling no longer seemed to travel through them, but was an ever-
present, pulsing sensation.  Like one heartbeat that they both could 
feel.  After a moment, he let go of her hand and she gasped as the 
connection broke, leaving her prickly and tingling.

After the initial shock from the break in contact, Mulder felt a 
peaceful warmth spread throughout his body, like endorphins after a 
long run, or an orgasm.  It was one of the most incredible things 
he'd ever experienced in his life.  He'd never felt more aware, more 
loved, or more in love.  And yet, he didn't feel like his mind or 
body were impaired or hindered by the energy in any way.  He was 
ready to do it again.

The woman on the rock had opened her eyes and was watching them with 
a large, knowing smile before climbing down and making her way out 
of the canyon.

"Something is wrong with Krycek," Scully said, drawing him back to 
task.  He looked down the trail and saw Krycek standing off to the 
side, bent at the waist and his hands resting on his knees.

They walked back down the path to where Krycek had sat on the dirt 
and Scully stepped closer, shifting into doctor mode.  "What is it?" 
she asked him, crouching down beside him.

"I don't know," he replied, and she could see the beads of sweat on 
his brow.  There were several angry red scratches on his face and 
neck.  "It started as a headache, but it's gotten worse.  I'm having 
trouble catching my breath."

"You may be having an allergic reaction to one of the trees that 
scratched you, or something that was on the branch that made contact 
with your skin."

He looked up, embarrassed and irritated as a pair of hikers 
effortlessly passed them on their way back.

"Any nausea?" she asked, reaching out to touch his forehead to test 
his temperature, but he flinched away.

"Some," he replied, huffing out a series of short breaths.  "I'll be 
alright.  You guys go on, I'll meet you back at the car."

Scully glanced up at Mulder, then stood.  The clouds above 
threatened a heavy storm.  Krycek looked up at Mulder a moment, and 
Mulder nodded, "Alright."  He turned, and Scully stopped him.

"Mulder..."

Mulder looked back over his shoulder at her. 

"I think we should consider going back with him.  Look at the sky."

Mulder looked up, just as a flash of lightening lit up a dark cloud 
to the north.  The storm clouds were moving in, and ever since they 
entered the trail the sky had grown darker, the wind blowing almost 
steadily.

"This path follows a dry wash, and flash floods in the desert are a 
common and deadly occurrence at this time of year."  She let out a 
long breath.  "Besides, we have no topographical maps, and we aren't 
prepared for this kind of weather.  I want to find out what is going 
on here as much as you do," she added, "but Krycek should have 
someone keeping an eye on him to make sure his condition 
doesn't get worse."

He looked at Krycek, who was shivering and sweating as he hauled 
himself back on his feet, and Mulder glanced back down the path 
leading into the canyon, thinking about the points she had raised.  
Turning, he walked back toward her.

"What are you doing?" Krycek asked, wiping the sweat off of his brow 
with the cuff of his shirt.  "We have no idea how long it's going to 
be here."

"Scully's right," Mulder replied, biting his lip and his eyes 
squinting in judgment as he looked at the terrain surrounding them.  
"That looks like a Hell of a storm."

"You think It's going to let a storm hold it back?"

"Wait a minute."  Scully said, stepping closer.  "You said earlier 
that the people behind this new conspiracy were keeping it here.  
What do you mean by 'It' not letting the storm hold it back?"  She 
paused, waiting for another hiker to pass.  "Exactly who is involved 
in this?"

Krycek continued to shiver but remained silent.

Mulder stepped closer to him.  "I'd like to hear the answer to that 
question."  When Krycek still didn't respond, he took matters into 
his own hands.  "Fine," he said, pressing his lips together.  He'd 
get the information out of him one way or another.  Closing his 
eyes, he let out a long breath, regulating his breathing. 

Krycek realized immediately what he was planning and decided to 
share.  "They know It's here in the canyon, drawing from the energy 
of the vortex.  They know It's wounded or seriously hurt and It 
needs the energy to help heal Itself."

Mulder opened his eyes, pinning Krycek under his gaze. 

Scully rested her hands on her hips, letting out a loud huff.  "So 
they had you bring Mulder out here to find it for them."

Krycek glanced sideways at her.  "They don't know he can do what he 
does, otherwise, they would be here instead of me and we wouldn't be 
having this conversation."

Scully let out another huff, not believing him, and he turned to 
face her.  

"Look, right now, your presence here is nothing more than the usual 
nuisance to them.  They've had people in here looking for it without 
success.  They plan to create a public health hazard threat after 
the sun goes down tonight so that they can shut the area down to 
perform a thorough search.  Believe me, once that happens this place 
will be locked up tighter than a drum."  He looked at Mulder.  "And 
they aren't going to let a little bit of rain stop them."  He 
swallowed thickly.  "It's your call, Mulder.  Either you find it, or 
they do."

Mulder met Scully's gaze as she looked up at him.  He had to agree 
with Krycek.  If the area was going to be closed down after dark 
then his only chance at finding the E.B.E. before they did was to do 
it as soon as possible, storm or no storm.


XxXxXxXxX


The farther Krycek got away from the vortex, the better he felt.  By 
the time he neared the beginning of the path he was almost feeling 
back to normal except for a lingering headache.

The wind was nearly howling through the canyon, and the dark, heavy 
clouds were hanging low overhead, the flash of lightening and the 
subsequent sound of thunder indicating that the storm was about to 
let loose.

He didn't follow the path back to his original starting point, 
however.  He wouldn't be going back to the car as he'd told Mulder.  
There was another entrance to the canyon for the guests of the 
resort, and he went that way, as he had intended all along.


XxXxXxXxX


The wind grew humid, then began to fill with small drops of rain.  
As the desert accepted the moisture, the sweet, earthy smell of damp 
red clay and rock permeated the air.  The rain increased into a 
steady thrumming of light drops, pasting their clothes and hair to 
their skin.  They kept moving, the vegetation growing thicker and 
the air growing cooler as they passed through groves of Ponderosa 
pines.

Big, fat drops were falling, faster and harder, soaking them 
through.  Shivering, they moved carefully, cautious not to 
accidentally slip or fall into the dry wash below.  Their footing 
was sure, and like a guardian, the omnipresent energy seemed to keep 
them alert and just warm enough to move on in the face of the rain 
and wind.

When the sky opened up and the rain became slick cold sheets of 
water that made it difficult for them to see more than a few feet 
ahead of them on the path, they shared a look and agreed to find 
temporary shelter.  Within yards they came upon a rock formation 
with an alcove just big enough for the two of them to share, and 
they ducked inside.  They sat side-by-side, with their arms wrapped 
around their legs Indian-style on the dry flat rock.

Mulder coughed, shivering involuntarily and wiping the drops of 
water off of his face with the back of his wet hand.  Scully was 
struggling futilely to peel the sodden material of her jacket away 
from the skin on her arms.  After a moment, she let out a resigned 
huff and gave up.

"Cold?" he asked her.

"Not really," she lied, tightening her arms around her legs.

He knew she was lying, just as he knew it was for his benefit.  
"Wanna hold hands?" he asked, bumping her shoulder with his and a 
smirk playing on his lips.

She was silent for a moment.  "What the hell was that, Mulder?" she 
asked, then turned her head to look directly at him, resting her 
cheek on her left knee.

"The vortex," Mulder replied with a nod.  When she didn't respond, 
he said, "Do you deny that you've felt the effects of the vortex's 
energy since we've been here?"

She exhaled, then drew in a deep breath.  She couldn't exactly 
refute the evidence when she was wide awake and feeling like she 
could climb any mountain.

"Whatever the reason for the second wind we both are experiencing," 
she answered, "I'm more inclined to believe that what happened 
between us earlier came from static electricity caused by the 
storm."

"The storm," Mulder replied flatly.  "You're saying that was just an 
over-glorified version of static cling?"

"Well, what do you think it was?"

"Yin and yang, masculine energy and feminine energy converging," he 
replied with another cough, his knees gently bouncing with residual 
nervous energy.  "The ideas behind Yin and Yang developed by 
observing the physical world...nature appears to group into pairs 
comprised of mutually dependent opposites.  According to the 
Chinese, everything has physical existence because everything 
manifests both Yin and Yang qualities."

"So you're saying that just from the simple fact that you're male 
and I'm female the vortex generated an electrical current between us 
strong enough for us both to feel it?"

"You saw what it's done to that tree."

She paused.  "We didn't generate that energy, Mulder, vortex or not.  
It had to have come from a source that we made contact with."

"Maybe there's a current, like a river of energy that runs from the 
vortex toward another source.  It's natural resting place." 

"A river of energy," she repeated skeptically.  She turned her head 
and looked up at the falling sky, trying not to get rained on any 
more than she already had been.  "It doesn't seem to show any signs 
of letting up anytime soon," she commented.  "How much farther do 
you think we have to go?"

"Not too much farther," Mulder replied, drawing his legs closer to 
his body as a drop of water dripped off of the end of his nose.  "I 
think we're really close."

Scully fell silent, and Mulder added, "We've been going up an 
incline, and seem to be fairly high up.  I don't think a flash flood 
is in our near future."

She turned her head and looked at him directly, an eyebrow raised.  
She had just been thinking that very thing.

"I didn't, Scully, I promise."  He shifted closer to her, tightening 
his arms around his legs as he shivered.  "All these years together 
have taught me a few things about the way your mind works."

She looked back out at the falling rain, watching rivulets of water 
run in little blood-red ditches toward the lowest common ground.  
Then she moved a little closer to him.  She wondered how easy it was 
for him to do what he does.  Could he just turn it on like a switch?  

"How do you do it, Mulder?" she asked softly without glancing over 
at him.  "I've been thinking about it and I don't get it."

He shrugged lightly, understanding what she was asking.  "I put 
myself into a position of relaxation and acceptance and then I 
concentrate."

"That's what I don't understand," she replied, her voice gentle.  
"How do you know what to concentrate on?"

"I don't," he answered.  "It's like peripheral vision.  I focus on a 
single point of light and expand it.  The thoughts come and I have 
to maintain my concentration on the light while listening to the 
thoughts at the same time.  Then I sort of sift through them until I 
find the one I want."

"What happens if you lose your focus on this light while you're 
listening to the thoughts?"

"When I try to focus too hard on any one specific thought without 
the light I lose the thought.  I have to do both or it doesn't 
work."

"Hmm," she replied, nodding slightly as she thought about it.  "So, 
the key was keeping yourself receptive and neutral."

He studied her for a moment, a look of fondness on his face.  "Would 
you like to try it?"

"What, here?  Now?"  She asked, and he shrugged, still smiling 
warmly.  

"Do you have a better suggestion?"

She was biting her upper lip, still thinking.  "Yes, I would."  She 
replied, glancing up at him a bit hesitantly.

He drew in a breath and let it out slowly.  Scully was forging new 
territory.  "Have you ever tried to meditate, Scully?"

She gave him a raised eyebrow in response, knowing he already knew 
the answer to that question.  The epiphany she reached meditating in 
front of a Buddhist statue and the subsequent chain of events 
changed a lot of things for the both of them.

Namely, their personal relationship.

Mulder grinned with understanding.  "Okay, this is a lot like 
meditation.  The first thing is to relax your muscles and regulate 
your breathing.  The best way is to start with your toes and work 
your way up, imagining the muscles loosening as you go up.  Close 
your eyes."

She did as he asked, and let out a long breath, drawing in a few 
shallow breaths until her breathing began to slow and even out.  He 
watched her hands grow slack, her shoulders relax and her head tip 
slightly to side before he continued.

"Find a point of light and focus on in."  His voice was softer, more 
melodic in its signature monotone.  "Behind your eyelids...don't 
open your eyes, see it in your mind.. it's a pure white light...can 
you see it?"

"Hmmmm..." she replied, licking her lips.  She could see the point 
of brightness he described and she focused on it.

"Expand it, take it into you and feel the warmth spread throughout 
as it grows."  He paused, watching her as her brow furrowed.  
"Accept it, Scully.  Embrace it.  The light is everything that is 
good and just and right with the world."

A smile came to her lips, and he smiled in response, even though he 
knew she couldn't see it with her eyes closed.  "What do you hear, 
Scully?"

"I hear you," she said softly.

"You do?"

"Your voice, Mulder.  I might be able to hear something else if you 
weren't talking constantly."

He let out a soft chuckle.  "Alright, I'll just sit here and think 
happy thoughts in your direction."

Without his conversation she could hear the rain falling against the 
ground, the trickling of water as it traveled and dripped off of the 
rock ledge above, and the rush of the wind through the treetops in 
the canyon.  She kept her focus on the white light and as it grew, 
the sounds became background music to the feeling of peace that she 
began to feel within. 

No wonder so many people extolled the merits of meditation.  She 
found that her mind began to free-associate thoughts, random ideas 
and memories floating by.  She didn't analyze it, but allowed them 
to flow without censure.

She was aware that she wasn't hearing anything else, though.  Just 
the wind and the rain from the storm.  The more she tried to hear 
something else, the harder it was for her to maintain her 
concentration.  She reminded herself of what Mulder had said about 
focusing on the light and letting the rest of it come unbidden, and 
she redirected her attention to the warmth and the light.

A flash followed almost simultaneously by a crash of thunder and the 
cracking sound of wood broke her concentration completely, and she 
opened her eyes to see a fallen pine only a few yards away.  The 
storm was directly upon them.  But Mulder was no longer sitting next 
to her.

She leaned forward, looking out from beneath the rock's ledge to see 
if she could see him nearby.  When she didn't spot him, she climbed 
out and stood, turning a full circle without catching sight of 
Mulder.

"Mul-der!" she shouted into the wind, her voice no match for Mother 
Nature.  It was still difficult to see, and the huge raindrops were 
pelting against her, the water running into her eyes and ears and 
down her arms and legs.  "Mul-der!" she tried again, feeling 
something akin to panic beginning to stake a claim in her stomach.

Turning nearly full-circle again, she thought she could just make 
out his shape standing on the other side of the fallen tree.  With a 
sigh of relief, she pushed the dripping hair away from her eyes and 
carefully stepped around the branches of the tree to join him.  The 
rain began to soften, growing lighter and finer, giving her clearer 
vision.  By the time she had circumnavigated the tree, there were 
only a few residual drops falling from the sky.

Mulder was farther away than she had first thought, and he was 
walking away from her, toward the back of the box canyon.  She 
called to him again, but he didn't turn around.  So she followed 
him. 

He stopped when he entered a clearing, and as she got closer, she 
spoke.  "What's going on, Mulder?"

Mulder didn't reply, and she stepped up behind him, tapping the back 
of his soaked jacket to get his attention.  When he turned around, 
her eyes grew wide and she caught her breath.

It wasn't Mulder she had followed into the box canyon.  It was 
Father Ulrich Schroeder.