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

XxXxXxXxX  Chapter Eleven
United Airlines Flight 1493


The flight was full, but it didn't matter to him since he was 
traveling alone.  Assistant Directors were entitled to fly business 
class, a luxury he chose not to take advantage of when traveling 
with agents under his charge.  He preferred to focus on the work, 
not the entitlement that comes with a specific title.  Some of the 
other A.D.s he knew were not so considerate.  Then again, some of 
those other A.D.s couldn't pull their heads out of their asses and 
recognize a red flag when an agent subtly waved one in their faces.

Those other A.D.s didn't have Mulder and Scully under their charge.

Skinner had stopped by Mulder's basement office before leaving for 
home and then the airport, making a quick visual survey of Mulder's 
desk and the surrounding area on the chance that there may be more 
information about their sudden departure for Arizona.  Other than 
stacks of old X Files covering every conceivable area, there was 
nothing.  Nothing to indicate the reason behind the unusual 
telephone call he'd received from Scully.  No reason why they'd 
dropped everything and taken off for Arizona with Alex Krycek in the 
middle of the night.

The message light indicated that there were voice mail messages 
waiting to be retrieved, but Skinner didn't know the password so he 
was unable to retrieve those.  It would take too long to try to get 
someone from the communications department down on a Saturday 
afternoon to change it.  There were new faxes sitting on the fax 
machine, however, and he scooped the papers out of the tray, shoving 
them into the side pocket of his briefcase on his way out the door.

Now settled into his faux leather airplane seat with a Scotch and 
water in hand, he pulled his briefcase out from under the seat in 
front of him and retrieved the fax.  It was from the Miami P.D., 
sent early the previous evening, informing Agent Mulder as the FBI's 
point of contact on the A.P.B. issued on Antonio Cardinale that 
Cardinale was taken into custody that afternoon trying to catch a 
flight to Mexico City under one of his known aliases.

Skinner popped the in-flight telephone out of the headrest in the 
seat in front of him and swiped his Bureau-issued Visa through the 
credit card slot.  Then he dialed the number listed on the fax for 
the detective in charge, one Eric Castro.

"Castro," a voice barked on the other end, the din of the common 
room he shared with the other detectives of the precinct audible 
even through the poor air phone connection.

"Detective Castro, this is Assistant Director Skinner with the 
Federal Bureau of Investigation.  I'm calling about a man you've got 
in custody, a Nicaraguan national named Antonio Cardinale."

There was a short pause.  "I believe you've got the wrong Detective 
Castro, Assistant Director Skinner.  Hang on."

Skinner heard a muffled exchange punctuated with the word "shit" 
before he was put on hold.  He imagined more words were being 
exchanged, knowing how much local law enforcement detested dealing 
with the Feds.  There was the faint sound of music mixed with static 
coming through the line, and another voice picked up the extension 
in less than a minute.

"Assistant Director Skinner?  This is Captain Hawkins.  There's been 
a...well, there's a situation down here involving the man you're 
asking about."

"What kind of a situation are we talking about, Captain?"  Skinner 
asked, letting out a short huff.

"Detective Castro, the one who contacted your office, is down at the 
county jail checking it out right now.  It...uh, well...it appears 
that the suspect hung himself in his cell last night."

Skinner bared his teeth and closed his eyes.  He should have 
expected to hear that.  Anything less would have been too easy.  He 
blinked and let out a sigh.  "Any witnesses?"

"Apparently not, at least none that will own up to it."

"What about a note?"

"Not that we've found."  He heard the muffled sound of a hand being 
placed over the receiver, then Captain Hawkins said, "Wait a minute, 
Castro's just come back in.  I'll let you talk to him."

He was put on hold again, this time much longer than the last.  Some 
nasally girl was whining in his ear to a disco beat about doing 
something again and Skinner reached up and pinched the bridge of his 
nose between his thumb and forefinger, closing his eyes and silently 
cursing the situation.  He should just hang up the phone and save 
the taxpayers a few dollars - experience dictated that nothing 
will turn up and nothing will be done.  Cardinale is dead, just like 
his brother, and whoever is responsible will remain unknown, just 
like with his brother.

And he got the privilege of unwillingly reminding Scully of that 
fact when he caught up with them in Arizona and told what had 
happened.

A new voice spoke on the other end, this one softer.  "Assistant 
Director Skinner?  This is Detective Castro.  I'm the one who sent 
you the fax regarding Antonio Cardinale."

Skinner took a deep breath.  The background noise had disappeared, 
which made him suspect that either Castro had moved into a private 
office, or more likely, everyone had stopped to listen to him 
explain the situation to the Feds.  "Detective, can you tell me what 
is going on?"

The detective cleared his throat, but still he started off hoarse.  
"Well Sir, the guard found him early this morning.  He'd taken off 
his clothes and tied them to the upper bars of his cell and 
around his neck.  We believe he had been standing on the lower bars 
and jumped off.  The coroner places the time of death around four 
a.m."

"When was the last bed check?"

"Two-thirty a.m."

"And no one saw this coming?"

"Uhhhhhhhhhhh...no Sir.  I questioned Cardinale yesterday evening 
after we confirmed his identity but he didn't say much.  I even 
tried in Spanish but it didn't make any difference.  He kept saying 
a name, or maybe it was a word.  He wouldn't tell us what it meant.  
It wasn't Spanish, I know that.  I thought he was trying to convince 
me that it was his real name or something."

"What was this word?"  Skinner asked shortly.  He was trying to be 
patient, but his patience was wearing thin with the lack of anything 
solid to go on.  

There was a pause.  "Uh, hang on, it's in my notes."  There was the 
sound of pages being turned.  "Cratchit, Crotchet..."

Skinner sat up in his seat, tilting his head slightly.  "Krycek?"

Castro repeated the name a few times softly.  "Krycek...Krycek.  
Yeah, that sounds like it."

Skinner closed his eyes and his shoulders slumped as much as his 
shoulders ever slumped, which was barely perceptible to the 
untrained eye.  He wondered what the hell Mulder and Scully had 
gotten involved in this time, running off with that son of a bitch.  
He let all of the air out of his lungs and shook his head.  
"Alright, Detective, when your men are finished gathering the 
external forensic evidence they need to finish their reports I want 
the body wrapped up carefully and shipped to Quantico."

"Yes Sir, I'll take care of it myself."

Skinner moved the receiver away from his ear and paused, then popped 
the air phone back into its cradle and set his jaw.  He tossed back 
the rest of his Scotch and water and stopped the flight attendant as 
she passed by his seat, discretely showing her his badge.

"Is this flight on time?" he asked.

She replied soberly.  "Yes Sir, I believe we're actually a few 
minutes early."

He glanced out the window, setting his jaw once again then looked 
back up at her, leaning in and speaking low for privacy.  "I need 
you to call ahead to Phoenix and ask them to hold the 7:12 flight 
to Flagstaff.  I've got to make that flight."

She looked a bit spooked but she nodded, and moved quickly toward 
the cockpit.  Skinner leaned back in the seat once again and closed 
his eyes.

He'd have more than a few things to say to that bastard Krycek if he 
caught up with him first.


XxXxXxXxX Enchantment Resort


The suite looked out over the canyon, an impressive display of 
towering red rock and green treetops against the heavy black clouds 
releasing their fury overhead.  Hundreds and thousands of years of 
water and wind had formed the canyon, as it would continue to do for 
hundreds more.  The changes were so slow and imperceptible, it would 
probably look the same one hundred years from now.

That wasn't his concern, however.  He looked at the canyon only to 
determine what was going on inside.  The man at the window took a 
drag off of the Morley poised between his thumb and forefinger 
and exhaled a long stream of smoke.

"What did you tell them?" he asked Krycek, who sat the wrong way in 
a straight-backed armchair behind him and to the right, his good arm 
resting across the chair's back.  He could just make out his 
reflection in the window's glass.

"I told them it was ill.  That it was using the energy from the 
vortex to heal itself," Krycek replied.

"We don't know that for certain," he said dismissively, taking 
another drag from his cigarette.  "Did they believe you?"

"Mulder did."  Krycek leaned forward in his chair, watching the 
smoking man carefully with his eyes while his face remained slack.  
He was not physically well, and had lost much of the strength he 
displayed in years past.  Mentally, though, he was at the top of his 
game.  Krycek sat up straight and cleared his throat.  "She wasn't 
as accepting, though."

A slight smile crossed the smoking man's lips, a look of near 
fondness.  "Agent Scully is always a harder sell."  He blew out a 
puff of smoke and stubbed out his cigarette in an ashtray on the 
table underneath the window.  Then he turned toward Krycek, taking 
his time before looking at him, lighting up another cigarette.  

"They know about Cardinale," Krycek said, watching his reaction 
closely.

He exhaled, his face unreadable, like the consummate gambler that he 
was.  "No matter.  Cardinale is no longer one of our concerns."  He 
displayed the same ambivalence he might show if he'd been told he 
was ten minutes late for a dinner reservation.

Krycek kept his eyes on him, knowing exactly what he meant when he 
said 'no longer one of our concerns'.  

"What makes you so certain Mulder will find It?  No one else has 
been able to," he asked, nodding his head toward the window.

He tried to determine what else the man knew that he might be 
holding back from him.  Outside there were flashes of lightening 
illuminating portions of the black clouds, the answer of thunder 
coming just seconds behind, but he saw nothing in the smoker's 
demeanor to give him any new information.

"Because he's Mulder," the smoking man replied as he dragged on the 
fresh cigarette.  "I have absolute faith in him.  He can find nearly 
anything once he's set his mind to it."

The man smiled, nearly gleefully, as he spoke of Fox Mulder.  His 
esteem and respect were evident, but as with Agent Scully, there was 
a fondness present as well.

The room where the two men held their conversation appeared to be 
nothing more than an upscale Southwestern-style resort hotel room in 
a private hacienda.  But in the other rooms of the suite, it 
was the complete antithesis of what one would expect to find in a 
resort nestled into a picturesque canyon in the Arizona desert.  
There were satellite receivers, monitors, a variety of computers and 
electronic equipment cabled together, all maintained and supervised 
by a handful of young men wearing lab coats, whispering silently to 
each other over the data they were collecting.

An old German with thinning hair and cold blue eyes passed through 
the stacks of equipment, appearing to be completely out of place as 
he gingerly stepped over cables and electrical cords.  The men in 
the lab coats fell silent and watched, allowing the man to pass 
unhindered.  He entered the room where the smoker and Krycek were in 
time to observe the end of the exchange between them, and both 
men looked up when he spoke.

"For this you have brought me here?  To watch out of the window and 
wait for a madman to run around in the rain when we have our own 
ways of bringing It back secure?"  His accent was thick but he spoke 
slowly and deliberately, like a man used to having everything around 
him pause for his response.

"Need I remind you I've already had to clean up after one of your 
sloppy mistakes," the smoking man replied flippantly without making 
eye contact with the German.  "You should be grateful that I took 
care of it before it became an issue within the Catholic Church."

The German's eyes grew colder, clearly not accustomed to being 
treated so disrespectfully.

"Besides..." the smoker paused, exhaling a cloud of smoke, "no one 
we've sent in there to retrieve It can get near It without becoming 
violently ill.  Alex himself couldn't even get halfway into the 
canyon before he was affected."

"And why does this Mulder not have the same reaction?" he scoffed, 
issuing the agents name distastefully in the process.

"It had no effect on either of them, actually," Krycek said, turning 
to look at him.  He was met by four more pairs of curious eyes that 
had lined up behind the old German, all young men of obvious Aryan 
descent.

They were not the same men monitoring the equipment in the next 
room, and each one held an air of self-confidence, certain in his 
ability and participation in the new project.  They were all so much 
younger than their counterparts, who must have been their age when 
the original project first came to fruition, Krycek thought.  
Younger than himself, even.

There were only two men left from the onset of original project now, 
left to pick up the pieces and try to rebuild a lifetime of work 
gone to hell.  And it was apparent that those two men were not of 
the same mind on how the new project should be managed.  Each 
decided his own method for achieving his objective and each 
assembled his own team of players.

There had been advantages to the consortium.  A group assembled to 
decide on the fate of the world was much more democratic than two 
men who couldn't agree.  There were more points of view and each 
was considered by all.  It was easier to accept the decision of a 
consensus.

"They were the perfect choice," Krycek stated, turning back toward 
the smoker and fixing his eyes on him.  "But you already knew that."

The smoking man smirked with pleasure, taking another drag.

"And how do you know that they will not take It away from us?  Or 
let It escape?" One of the young blonde men with the German asked.  
"They are federal agents."

"We know exactly where Agent Scully is," the smoking man answered, 
gesturing toward a laptop computer set up on the table next to the 
ashtray.  It was the only piece of electronic equipment in the room, 
and the screen displayed a topographical outline of the canyon, 
along with a small red point of light indicating the location of 
Agent Scully as indicated by the device implanted at the base of her 
neck.  A swirl of smoke followed his hand as he gestured, and he 
flicked the ashes off of the end of his cigarette as an 
afterthought.

"And what of Agent Mulder?" the same young man replied.

The smoker sighed softly, resignedly, and replied as if speaking to 
a very small child.  "Wherever Scully goes, Mulder will follow."  
His posture indicated that he believed he shouldn't have to be 
telling them this, they should already know.  "When they start to 
move out of the canyon someone will be waiting for them."

"We have waited and they have not moved for a very long time," the 
old German answered with a huff.  For all of his impatience he did 
not refute the smoker's claims, for he knew them to be accurate.

Another enigmatic smile played on the lips of the smoking man, and 
he drew a long, slow drag off of his Morley, savoring the power that 
comes with making others wait.  His demeanor made it clear that 
this was, after all, his show.  As far as he was concerned, he 
called all of the shots now.  The others were just incidental.

All except Mulder, of course.

"Give them time," he said, exhaling a cloud of smoke into the room.


XxXxXxXxX


"What are you doing here?"  Scully asked Father Schroeder, her brow 
furrowed and her eyes wide, showing her disbelief as she stared up 
at him.  "I was lead to believe that you were dead.  Mulder and I 
were assigned to investigate your homicide."

"And yet here I stand," he replied, folding his large hands in front 
of him, a kind smile on his face.  "I am here for the same purpose 
as you."

Father Marquette had indicated that Father Schroeder had been 
involved in a spiritual quest, but Father Marquette also believed 
that Father Schroeder was buried among his fellow priests in Holy 
Cross Cemetery.  She doubted that this spiritual quest was about 
finding an extraterrestrial biological entity.  And if it was, she 
was fairly certain that the church didn't know about it.

"Do you believe in miracles, Miss Scully?" Father Schroeder asked, 
giving her the same uneasy feeling that she had encountered in his 
presence the time before outside of St. Cyril's.

She shifted her weight from one foot to the other.  "I believe that 
God's hand can be witnessed, yes."

"Then why do you doubt my presence here?"

Scully opened her mouth as if to reply, then closed it again.  The 
man standing in front of her was clearly just a man, a hulking big 
man made of flesh and blood.  She'd experienced what she would 
refer to as a vision before, several years ago, but from her 
experience she believed it had to involve someone very special to 
her to be valid.  

This was not such a situation.

"Well, whether or not your being here is a result of God's hand as 
you suggest, I need to know, are you or are you not Father Ulrich 
Schroeder?" she asked bluntly.

"I have been called by that name, yes."

Scully let out a long breath of air and looked around, her eyes 
squinting from the brightness of the emerging sun reflecting off of 
the wet trees and plants around her in the canyon.  So this was 
Father Schroeder.  Alive.  She still felt uneasy, and Mulder's 
recent disappearance didn't help ease her nerves.  He still didn't 
appear to be anywhere within eyesight and she wondered where he 
could be and why he'd skipped out on her while she was meditating.

"He is nearby," Father Schroeder said, as if reading her thoughts.

"Who?"  Her voice was sharp, suspicious, as she looked up at him 
once again.

"The one you are worried about.  Mulder."

"If you know where he is then tell me."

Father Schroeder smiled.  "As I said, he is nearby."  He looked into 
her eyes and she felt like he was looking straight into her soul. 
"You have resolved the personal issues we discussed the last 
time."

His staring made her pulse race and she took a deep breath to slow 
it back down.  She had a feeling of conflict because she knew this 
man to be a legitimate priest, and she'd been raised a Catholic - 
raised to trust men of the cloth.  Confide in them.  And yet, this 
man seemed to know things about her that she hadn't shared, in 
confession or otherwise.  And she knew he had formed a past alliance 
with Alex Krycek, and man whom she distrusted almost as much as the 
smoking man himself regardless of Mulder's assertions that his 
intentions were the same as theirs.

Torn, she answered finally, "Yes.  How did you know that?"

"I have felt it," he replied, "We all have."

She held his gaze.  "WE who?  Who are you working with?"

He took a deep breath, as if preparing himself for something 
important.  "Are you familiar with Universal Law, Dana?"

"In what context?  Where laws of the Universe are concerned, there 
are no set laws, only theories.  The theory of a stationary Universe 
states that the Universe is comprised of fundamental ingredients, 
all of which are mutually present and fixed variants...space, time, 
matter, energy, forces, fields, charges.  There's also..."

Father Schroeder shook his head and held up his hand.  "No, I speak 
not of theories of science, but of Universal Law, the Law which 
governs all things.  What defines the consciousness of God and how 
it is expressed.  You may know it as Dharma.  It is the law of cause 
and effect, of balance."

"Dharma."  Scully thought a moment, trying to tie what she knew of 
Buddhism to what she knew of Father Schroeder.  "You studied 
Buddhism as a Carmelite."

He nodded.  "Yes, I have studied many religions and religious 
practices.  Buddhism is one of many, but I chose it specifically 
because it is one I think you may be familiar with, besides your own 
religion.  Is that correct?"

She nodded, wondering what Father Schroeder knew of Buddhism and 
what it had to do with her inability to locate Mulder in the canyon.  
"I am familiar with some of the teachings but I know very little.  I 
have done a little reading in the last year."  She remembered 
borrowing a few of Mulder's books on the subject just after her 
experience in a Buddhist temple lead her and Mulder into opening to 
one another about their feelings.  She'd stopped reading just after 
Mulder disappeared.

He looked at her, his eyes warm.  "You have learned more than you 
know."

She drew a deep breath through her nose and let it out slowly, 
processing their exchange.  Father Schroeder had steered the 
conversation toward religion and religious theories, but her primary 
objective still was to find Mulder.

"Perhaps, but right now I'd like to know where Mulder is."

He smiled again, shaking his head gently.  "You already have the 
answer, you just need to access it."

"Fine.  How do I access it?"

"Ask yourself, what is life?  Life is comprised of relationships 
within relationships, each one an evolving process.  And each 
process is a system within a system.  All of these relationships, 
processes and systems mutually share rights and responsibilities 
that allow them to develop their potential and to fulfill their 
ultimate purpose.  Everything that exists exists because of its 
relationship to something else."

She crossed her arms in front of her.  "So you're telling me that 
the answers to every conceivable question are available to me and 
anyone who knows how to access them because we're all inextricably 
tied?"

"Yes."

"Including Mulder's location."

He smiled and let out a soft laugh.  "Yes."

"And this information is..." she held her hands up, "where, 
exactly?"  She was getting frustrated with his ambiguous replies.

"In the Akashic Records."

At least that was a specific answer.  She smacked her lips and 
nodded, running her tongue over her upper molars.  "The Akashic 
Records."

"The complete record of everything that has happened in the Universe 
since the beginning of time."

She let out a huff.  "Right."  She bowed her head, sucking on her 
teeth, then looked back up at him.  "And how, exactly, do I access 
these records?"

"You already have.  You have accessed the Universal Consciousness.  
That is how you and I have come to be standing here."

She stared at him and sighed.  "You're saying you're here because 
I'VE accessed the Universal Consciousness?"

"Yes.  Through much resistance of mind and perception, you have come 
to realize that thought and perception are life's greatest 
adversaries when you take the time to observe your surroundings, 
question and examine what you know to be true.  You understand that 
everything in life has purpose, potential and value.  This means 
that everything is unique and nothing is ever wasted.  We are all 
connected, but you, Dana, have been given a gift.  A gift of faith 
and of love, a unique gift that has seen, WILL see you through 
adversity.  Both of you."

Scully blinked at him, her eyes wide and her mouth falling open.   
Somehow, Father Schroeder had gained access to her innermost 
thoughts and feelings.  About herself, about Mulder.  She'd had the 
same unnerving sense when she'd met him before, but this time she 
knew.  He had read her, everything inside of her, like an open book.

"I see you are uncomfortable," he spoke, more softly.  "That is not 
altogether a bad thing.  Resistance develops potential and gives it 
worth.  Obtaining or achieving anything of worth involves 
overcoming some form of resistance.  But above all else, always 
remember to listen to your heart, Dana.  That is where you will find 
your answers."

He stepped forward and laid a hand on her shoulder, and she felt 
herself sinking to her knees on the damp ground, no longer able to 
resist.  His voice grew stronger, more resonant.  

"For it is by grace you have been saved, through faith - and this 
not from yourselves, it is the gift of God."

Even with her eyes closed she knew that he was giving her his 
blessing, making the sign of the cross in the air above her.  Then 
she felt his hand lift from her shoulder.

"Use it well, Dana.  For yourselves and for all of us."

A flash of light followed, and she raised her head, opening her eyes 
with a gasp.  She was no longer in the middle of the box canyon, but  
found herself back in the alcove, sitting cross-legged underneath 
the rock's ledge.  The rain was pounding the ground and in front of 
her lay the fallen pine tree.  It was as if she'd never left the 
alcove, except that darkness had descended.

And to her right sat Mulder, his eyes closed and his breathing slow 
and steady.


XxXxXxXxX Chapter Twelve


Mulder was chasing an alien.

A gray, to be exact.

He'd spotted It after lightening had struck and felled the pine tree 
just outside the alcove, and he followed It into a box canyon, then 
lost sight of It.  The rain had petered out, leaving the ground 
soaked and foliage covered in drops of water, but the air was clean 
and smelled fresh, like pine needles and newly tilled earth.

Reaching a clearing, he drew in a deep breath of air and let it out 
as he turned a full circle, trying to figure out where It might have 
gone.  There was a steep solid wall of red tinted rock at the back 
and sides of the canyon, with a little bit of scrub brush growing 
out of the cracks and on the ground, just for added color.  Farther 
up there were trees.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" a deep voice asked.  He couldn't tell where 
the voice came from, and he spun around to check behind him once 
more.

It was there.

Mulder blinked at It a few times, and It blinked large, black, 
almond-shaped eyes in response.  Mulder's lips parted, a look of 
shock and surprise on his face.

"I don't bite," It said.  He noticed that It didn't move It's mouth.

"I didn't expect you to," Mulder replied aloud, noting how different 
this one looked from the one he'd chased in the tanker trucks all 
the way to Trona.  This one was small, smaller than Scully - exactly 
like he'd expected a gray to look. 

"I'll take that as a compliment," It replied, still not moving It's 
mouth.  Mulder realized that he was hearing it telepathically, just 
like reading thoughts only he didn't have to work at it.  It just 
came naturally.

"It's just that the other one I saw wasn't like you."  Mulder 
thought the response.

"Like me?" It answered.

Mulder paused, realizing that to the best of his knowledge, he was 
communicating telepathically with an alien.

"It was...taller," he stammered, raising his hand in the air above 
his head as an example.

"Are you implying that I'm short?"

"No, I wasn't implying that," he replied, quick to repair his 
mistake.  Then he realized that it wasn't offense that drove the 
question, but mirth, and he relaxed a little bit.  A gray with a 
sense of humor.  Who'd have thought?

"I'll take that as a compliment as well.  I understand your last 
experience left you confused."

Mulder shook his head, unused to having his every thought read by 
someone else.

"So you're familiar with the other one.  Who was he?"  He paused, a 
look of realization crossing his face.  "Or should I say she?"

"What do you think?"

Mulder thought about the question.  "She?"

"Not exactly."

"Okay, so It was of a different race altogether?"

"Not exactly.  I didn't say there wasn't a connection.  We're not 
all the same, just like you're not all the same. I don't have to 
look like this, you know."

"You mean you can change form?"  He had seen evidence of this 
before.  "Then why this...?"  He gestured from head to foot.

"Because you are more inclined to believe if you see me this way."

"As an alien?  You look like an alien because of me?"

"Are you suggesting this look is less than desirable?  What makes 
you think you're so much to look at?"  It paused a beat before 
continuing.  "But let me put it this way, would you be more or less 
believing if I looked human?"

Mulder ran his hand over his mouth, staring at It.  Unreal.

"I thought I'd found one of you guys once before.  It turned out I 
was high on mushrooms.  I'm wondering what it is affecting me this 
time."

"What did you have for lunch today?"

"Airplane food.  Tasteless, yes, but not psychotropic, at least, I 
don't think it was.  Otherwise, there'd be a lot of weird crap going 
on in Arizona tonight."

The gray chuckled, a low, deep laugh like James Earl Jones.  In 
fact, it sounded a lot like James Earl Jones.

"You're pretty funny, you know that?"

"I could say the same about you."  Mulder paused, crossing his arms.  
"Who are you?"

"I am not James Earl Jones."

"I didn't say you were.  I suppose you can change your voice as 
well."

It raised a long, slim finger and pressed it against It's face where 
It's nose would be, then pointed it at him.

"Nothing gets past you."

Mulder's lips parted in a near smile.  Unreal.

"So, who are you?"

"I am all that is and ever will be."

"That's what the other one said.  So It WAS one of you, then."

"Why do you need to know about the other?"

"I need to know why It was here.  Just like I need to know why 
you're here."

"I'm here to talk with you."

"Uh huh, right.  You expect me to believe that you're here because 
of me?"

"No, technically, you're here because of ME.  But, we are in effect 
talking, aren't we?"  It asked.

Mulder blinked at It once more.

"Right."  He looked it over, still marveling at the fact that he'd 
found It.  "And what do they call you, then?"

"They?"

"They.  Others."

"Why do you have to assign a name to everything?"

He shrugged.  "How else do you communicate?  Do you just call each 
other 'hey you' or what?"

"We don't call each other anything.  We know who we're speaking to 
and who is responding to us.  Names are irrelevant."

"You already know everyone?"

"Yes, and vice versa."  It sighed.  "But if you must, you can call 
me Andy."

"Andy?" he spoke aloud, letting the name roll off his tongue with a 
surprised tone, then quirked his eyebrow at it in a very Scully-
esque maneuver.

"I've always liked the name Andy."

'Andy' Mulder mouthed, looking down at the ground and shaking his 
head with a smirk.

This was worse than his psychotropic mushroom experience.  Maybe 
this was a result of that electric orgasm he and Scully had 
experienced earlier, affecting his synapses.  Why else would he be 
seeing an extraterrestrial biological entity named Andy with a sense 
of humor and a voice like James Earl Jones?

"I can see you've picked up a lot of behavioral and thought patterns 
from your partner.  The answer is, because you respond to humor, 
that's why."  It replied.  "There is a reason for everything."

Mulder had forgotten that they were communicating telepathically and 
his thoughts were the same as statements.

"So what are you here to tell me, Andy?  Or are you just here to 
mess with my head?"

"That's not too hard to do, apparently."

Mulder scowled.  "So you're here to talk but you're not here to say 
anything, is that correct?"

"I have plenty to say."

"Then why do you keep talking circles around the subject if you 
already know what I want to know?"

"There was a subject?"

Mulder pressed his lips together and shifted his weight from one 
foot to the other impatiently, crossing his arms in front of him.  
He was seriously beginning to wonder if he was being set up for some 
kind of candid camera program, or worse, some kind of cheesy Fox 
Network ratings-grabber like 'America's Funniest FBI Pranks.'  It 
was quite an elaborate scene if that were the case.  And where was 
Scully?  He couldn't believe she'd wandered off without him.  He 
needed to find her, and she needed to be here to see this.  He 
glanced around, hoping to catch sight of her and uncrossed his arms.  

"Just tell me why you're here."

"I told you, I'm here to talk with you.  Are you ready to listen 
now?"

He paused.  "I've been ready.  So far all you've done is talk in 
circles."

"I'm just answering your questions."

"Okaaaaaaaayyyyyyy," he replied slowly, nodding.  He wasn't going to 
fall into another one of It's tangential traps again.  "What did YOU 
want to talk about?"

"About the future of your people.  Your race, your planet."

Mulder drew in a long breath and let it out slowly.  "Let's just cut 
to the chase, shall we?  You're here to begin colonization."

"I didn't say that.  I told you, I'm here to talk with YOU."

"Alright."  He took a moment to try to clear his head.  Maybe it was 
the lack of sleep that was causing his mind to play tricks on him.

"It's not a trick." It responded.  "There is no ulterior motive.  I 
am nothing more or nothing less than what I have revealed to you."

Mulder sighed.  The lack of sleep he'd had notwithstanding, he 
wasn't' tired, and this - Andy, or whoever - was really starting to 
annoy him.  He wanted answers.

"What is the future?" he asked.

"I don't know the answer to that question.  The future is not 
predetermined.  There may be probabilities and likelihoods, but 
everything depends on how each individual uses his or her free 
will."

"Free will."

"Yes, free will.  Everything that is to come is a result of your 
decision, and you can make a difference.  It all begins with you."

"Why me?"

"Why not you?  You see yourself as separate from the rest of the 
universe, but you don't realize that you are as much a part of it as 
the sun and the smallest grain of sand."

"I am."  Mulder replied flatly.

"Man has a habit of reducing his understanding to the perceptions of 
his own mind.  He has difficulty breaking through his own frame of 
reference and allowing his imagination to take quantum leaps into 
other dimensions, transcending the limits imposed by lifetimes of 
structured thinking."

"You said lifetimes."

"Yes, lifetimes."

"As in, more than one."

"Yes."

Mulder nodded, processing everything he had just heard.  
Reincarnation.  This was getting interesting.  Strange, but 
interesting.

"And everything I do has an effect on everything else."

"With each individual soul's progression, the machinery and the 
movement of the entire cosmos is effected, because each individual 
soul is that important."

"So each individual soul is a part of the whole, has an influence on 
the whole, which is what will determine the future."

"Exactly.  Imagine then...the power of two."

"Two what?"

"Two souls.  Joined, progressing together."

"Twice as effective?"

"More than twice.  For along with each individual soul in the union 
there is also the strength of the union."

"The whole is greater than the sum of its parts."  Mulder replied.

"Yes."

"And that isn't a common occurrence?"

"Oh heavens, no.  Anybody can claim they are in love and have sex.  
Many do.  This is different."

Mulder looked down at the ground and kicked at a pebble with the toe 
of his shoe.  Then he looked back up at Andy.

"I realize that.  Why have you gone to all of the trouble just to 
tell me this?"

"What I'm telling you isn't anything different than what I would 
tell anyone else in your position, if they were ready to listen.  
You are ready to listen."

"That's it?  Because I'm ready to listen?  I thought you said that 
two souls joined was a rare occurrence."

"Rare, but not impossible.  But you're both ready now.  You've 
completed a journey of sorts."

"Both?"

"Yes.  The union you've formed is a very powerful one.  It has not 
gone unnoticed."

"Then why aren't you talking to both of us?  Why just me?"  Mulder 
looked around again, hoping Scully may have wandered into the 
clearing.

Andy just blinked at him.

Mulder looked at him a moment.  "You said that you look and sound 
this way, that you approached me with humor because that is what I 
would respond to.  So Scully is seeing something or someone else, 
something that SHE will respond to, isn't she?"

Andy blinked at him again.  "What can I say?  You're sharp as a 
tack.  Can I tell you a story?"

Mulder paused a moment, then raised his hand in an open gesture.  
"Be my guest."

"You see, you...your people...have been in a period of trial.  No 
doubt you've noticed the enormous changes that have occurred within 
the last century.  Technology, interpersonal relationships, 
lifestyle, your beliefs and the way that you approach them.  Great 
changes in your environment and the weather.  It's no accident."

Mulder drew in a deep breath and let it out, remaining silent.

"There have been great leaps in knowledge.  You've conquered 
diseases.  But you've also created diseases.  You've found ways to 
be more comfortable, yet people suffer every day.  Needless, painful 
suffering."

"But we're working on it," Mulder replied.  "It's not completely 
hopeless.  Every day we find new cures, new methods of treatment.  
Lives are saved."

"Yes.  This is important.  Even the sparing of one life makes a 
difference."

Mulder shrugged.  "So what's the problem?"

"You've strayed too far."

"Strayed how?  And from what?"

"You were given independence along with free will with the hope that 
you would use that free will to CHOOSE to live your life the way He 
intended.  But rather than strive for that ideal, you've turned away 
from it.  You've been given models to follow, but over time you've 
become lost in the earthly world."

"This sounds more like a sermon than a story."

"This isn't my story, smartass.  I'm getting to that."

Mulder's mouth fell open slightly and he nodded sheepishly.

Andy continued.  "I mentioned a period of trial.  Years ago, your 
people were approached.  They were told what I've just told you and 
given a choice.  Well, actually, several choices.  Mass destruction 
of your world as you know it was spelled out.  The apocalypse.  
Colonization."

"The Conspiracy."  Mulder supplied at the word 'colonization'.

"Yes.  You have some knowledge of this project already.  These men 
who were contacted were not chosen randomly.  They formed a 
consortium, a group comprised of men of position from all over the 
world.  They shared one goal - to find a way to deal with the 
ultimatum that they had been given."

"Resist or serve."

"That is correct.  The potential in their hands was boundless.  
Hunger, dissention, socioeconomic tribulation...they had the ability 
to end it all worldwide.  They had the basic elements:  an open 
dialogue and a common obstacle to overcome.  They had the 
opportunity, the voice, the financial means.  They knew what was at 
stake.  But they chose another path.  They chose power and personal 
gain over the greater good."

"Sounds like the U.N."  Mulder replied.

"With heavier overtones.  Those members who opposed the consensus 
were punished, many had their lives and their loved ones taken from 
them.  Not to mention the deliberate killing of hundreds of 
innocents."

Mulder swallowed, nodding again.  He knew of this first hand.  His 
sister, his father.  Scully's sister.  He nearly lost Scully.  More 
times than he cared to count.

"Yes, you have lost loved ones," Andy responded.  "But I assure you, 
they are not lost."

Mulder shifted his weight, crossing his arms again.  "The project 
was stopped, but these men, those behind the original 
conspiracy...they have resurrected the project.  They had the other 
one, and they want you."

"I am in no danger," Andy replied.  "The project is finished and the 
trial is over.  Don't misunderstand me, the men who are left are 
dangerous.  They are not functioning with the greater good in mind 
and they can do much harm.  You know this.  You should be careful."

Mulder nodded again.  "So what of this trial?  What happens now?"

"The future is not finite."

"But we passed?"

"By the skin of your teeth, you might say.  You played no small part 
in that."

"Me?"  Mulder replied with surprise, then tilted his head, squinting 
up at the sky as light sprinkles of rain began to fall again.

"You and your partner.  I told you, you have not gone unnoticed.  
Two people united against a group of many.  You are an example of 
how free will can be used toward the greater good.  You've proven 
that there is still potential for your people to achieve their 
ultimate goal."

"So if we've already achieved this, why are you here?"

"Remember, the future is not finite.  The two of you are among 
millions in the cosmos.  Some have the greater good in mind and many 
do not.  We felt that you needed to know that you're heading in the 
right direction, but you've still got a long way to go."

Mulder shivered, feeling chilled as the rain grew stronger.  "But 
what are we..." 

He was interrupted by a sudden flash of lightening, so bright that 
it illuminated everything in the canyon.  He reflexively shielded 
his eyes, and heard a loud cracking, a crash and the booming of 
thunder.  When he opened his eyes he was no longer standing in the 
box canyon.

He was sitting in the dark underneath the rock ledge in the alcove, 
barely able to make out the outline of Scully sitting next to him.  
He could hear her quick, heavy breathing, and as his eyes adjusted 
to the darkness he was able to see her eyes, looking at him with 
bewilderment.

"You're not going to believe this," he said.

"Try me."

He shifted his position, and glanced out into the darkness.  "Okay, 
but I'll tell you on the way.  Krycek said they'd close the entrance 
to the canyon when it got dark and we've got to get out of here 
before they find us."

He climbed out from under the ledge and she did the same, smoothing 
her hands over her suit jacket as she stood.  She paused, and Mulder 
stopped a few feet away, turning to look at her when he realized she 
wasn't following him. 

"What is it, Scully?"

She was suveying the ground.  "My ring," she replied, looked up at 
him with wide eyes as she massaged her bare ring finger.  "It's 
gone."

"What?" he stepped back over to her, kneeling down and reaching 
inside of the alcove, running his fingers over the flat, layered 
rock.  He didn't find anything but smooth rock.

"It's not here."  He stood, placing a hand on her shoulder and felt 
her let out a shuddering sigh.  "It's too dark.  We're not going to 
find it tonight, Scully."

She looked up at him, her face crestfallen and her eyes showing her 
disappointment.

Mulder ran his hand over the back of her head tenderly.  "It's just 
a ring, I'll get you another one.  I'll even let you pick it out.  
C'mon, let's get out of here."


XxXxXxXxX Enchantment Resort


The room was lit by a flash of lightening followed almost 
immediately by the loud crash of thunder, and the equipment set up 
in the main room of the hacienda powered off, the monitors going 
blank.  The men in lab coats rushed around pressing power buttons 
and checking cable connections as the smoker lit another Morley in 
the next room, drawing the smoke deep into his lungs.  After a 
moment one of the men approached him, the sweat glistening off of 
his brow.

"What is it?" the smoker asked.

"All of the settings and connections check out alright, but we're 
not picking up any readings."

The smoker exhaled, his eyes squinting as he looked at the man.  
"That's impossible."

"We've checked everything twice, Sir.  The lightening must have 
caused a power surge that effected all of the settings.  Either 
that, or..." he swallowed.  "It's gone."

The smoker turned and looked at the laptop on the table.  The spot 
indicating Scully's position had moved - Scully and Mulder were on 
their way back out of the canyon.  He glanced over at Krycek, who 
met his look briefly, then quickly left the room.

He brushed by the old German on his way out.

"I was afraid that this would happen.  This is not acceptable," the 
German stated, his blue eyes boring into the smoker's.

The smoker took another drag from his cigarette, forcing a smile.  
"Nothing has changed."  He stubbed the cigarette out and turned to 
face his co-conspirator.

"I told you, Herr Strughold, I have everything under control."


XxXxXxXxX


There were men from the C.D.C. on the flight from Phoenix to 
Flagstaff, and Skinner overheard their conversation on the way.  
Like him, they had been on the flight from D.C., and they were going 
to investigate a reported public health situation that had come out 
of one of their local offices, involving a highly trafficked tourist 
spot in Sedona.

Skinner knew the M.O.

A sudden public health threat, the closure of a canyon after the sun 
goes down, and all of it happening in the paranormal hotseat of 
Sedona.  Without thinking twice he followed the men through the 
airport, stood behind them in the rental car line, and followed them 
out of the parking lot all of the way to Sedona.

He was certain Mulder and Scully would be there.

His credentials got him beyond the road block just beyond the 
entrance to Enchantment Resort and into the parking lot at the mouth 
of Boynton Canyon.  He stood off to the side, observing while some 
of the men suited up in their protective coveralls.  What made him 
uneasy, however, was the glimpse he'd gotten of a stack of high-
powered rifles in the back of one of the unmarked government 
licensed trucks.

Military issue rifles.

An in-air phone call to the Bureau just after his call to Miami had 
earned him the make, model and license number of the car the agents 
had rented against Scully's Bureau-issued Visa, and with the parking 
lot nearly empty now, it wasn't difficult to locate the vehicle.

They were in the canyon.

He wasn't one to take unnecessary risks, especially when there was a 
potential for disease or virus.  He'd learned first hand about the 
darker side of what modern medicine and technology were capable of a 
couple of years ago when Krycek infected him with some kind of 
nanotechnology that invaded his bloodstream, and kept him at the 
bastard's mercy.  He had been pronounced dead on the operating 
table, only to make a miraculous recovery just minutes later.

Krycek had made his point clear, and Skinner was compromised.

There hadn't been another demonstration of the power Krycek held 
over him, and he'd done everything asked of him.  He knew even now 
that Krycek would kill him without conscience if he didn't.  Still, 
if he got one clear shot at that bastard, he wouldn't hesitate to 
take it.

Now, even though he wasn't clear on what role Krycek was playing 
with Mulder and Scully, the situation seemed to warrant action.  The 
people behind the closing of the canyon were deadly serious in their 
intentions and he feared that Mulder and Scully had been set up, by 
Krycek or possibly the smoking man himself.  Making his way through 
the parking lot by carefully crouching beside the parked cars, he 
waited until he had an unobserved path into the canyon and sprinted, 
slipping behind a large bush.  When he was certain that no one had 
seen him he moved on down the trail, into the canyon and out of 
visual distance of the parking lot.


XxXxXxXxX Chapter Thirteen
Boynton Canyon


The rain had stopped, and the clouds began to break up and move on, 
allowing them moments of moonlight to help guide them along the 
rocky path.

"I don't accept that, Scully," Mulder was saying ardently, following 
closely behind her while the clouds temporarily masked the moon.  
"We both came in contact with an individual entity that claimed to 
be there specifically to deliver an important message, and we both 
found ourselves right back in that alcove within seconds of each 
other with no knowledge of the amount of time we spent there.  Yet a 
significant amount of time had clearly passed."

Small pieces of rock crunched under the hard soles of her shoes as 
she walked, and she was grateful that the path was more rock than 
mud.

"Mulder, you and I have had very little sleep in the last 48 
hours."

His mouth pressed into a thin line and his response was clipped.  "I 
wasn't walking in my sleep."

"I believe you experienced something, Mulder, whether it was a 
result of being in a highly suggestive state of fatigue or...or the 
residual effects from coming into contact with that energy source 
earlier.  What I'm saying is that I don't believe that what I 
experienced and what you experienced was a possible abduction or a 
simultaneous telepathic visionary event."

"Parallel experiences both taking place in a box canyon several 
hundred feet away from where we started and finished, both during 
the same block of time, both receiving the same message...what would 
you call it, then?"

She stopped, her breathing slightly accelerated from the exertion, 
and looked over her shoulder at him.  Her look told him she wasn't 
going to take his bait.  If she did, he knew what her answer would 
be.

Mulder sighed.  "Alright, for the sake of argument, say you and I 
both were sleepwalking.  According to the Kabalist, Eliphas Levi, 
the paraphernalia and instruments of divinations, such as 
somnambulism, premonitions and second sight, are simply means for 
communications between the divinator and the individual who consults 
him.  They serve to fix and concentrate two wills upon the same sign 
or object.  Thus one is enabled at times to see a message in the 
leaves of a tea cup, or in the clouds, in the white of an egg..."

She drew in deep breath and held it a moment before letting it out.  
"Father Schroeder is alive, Mulder, and he's in this canyon.  I 
spoke with him."

"Then you admit the possibility of my abduction theory, that I 
actually spoke with the E.B.E. then?  That it wasn't a vision for 
me, either?"

"Andy?" she asked with no lack of incredulity.  The moon came out in 
time for him to see her eyebrow cocked as if challenging him to 
prove that one.

He realized how ridiculous it sounded as he was relaying the details 
of his encounter to her.  If anything, she ought to know based on 
that fact that it was too far-fetched NOT to be true.

"I told you, he said that he chose humor because I would respond to 
it.  Just like you responded to seeing a man of the cloth."

"If your other theory is true, if we both saw was a vision at the 
same time, then why him?" she asked, turning all of the way around 
to face him.  "Why Father Schroeder?  Why not my Sunday school 
teacher, or the family priest who gave me my first communion?"

Mulder stared back at her stubbornly, shaking his head as she 
continued to walk ahead.  "I can't answer that.  I don't think we 
choose our messengers, I think they come along when our minds are 
open enough to receive them.  Explain to me how we both 
simultaneously heard different presentations of the same message - 
the oneness of all life, the power of two individuals striving for 
the greater good of all mankind..."

"Mulder, it's a universal theme in most, if not all religions, and 
we've both been exposed to more than just a little religious-themed 
information of late.  We've had little sleep, combined with the fact 
that our relationship has recently changed on a much more personal 
level..."

He let out a huff, crossing his arms in front of his chest the way 
that she had done so many times in the past.

"So THAT'S your explanation?  It's just coincidence?  The part that 
we BOTH heard about you and I having a powerful connection...are you 
gonna tell me it's just a load of romantic crap brought on in the 
afterglow of last night's sex or that electric orgasm we both just 
experienced?"

She could tell by his tone that he was growing angry, and she 
studied his face carefully, trying to read what was in his eyes.  
"Of course not," she said softly.  She knew their connection was a 
powerful one before they ever set foot in Sedona, even if they had 
never consummated the relationship.

"Then you accept the message?  Or at least PART of it..."

"It's not the meaning of the message that I doubt, Mulder, it's the 
way that you claim it was delivered."

He ground his teeth together, stepping closer to her and she could 
see the frustration flash in his eyes.  His voice was soft as he 
spoke, but it held a slight tremor.

"Tell me something, Scully.  How is it that you can go into a 
Buddhist temple and see a vision, you can see Emily lying on a 
gurney in the place of a cadaver during an autopsy, but you can't 
accept this for what it was?"

He held her gaze and she stared back at him, not knowing what to 
say.  It wasn't him she doubted.  She never doubted him or the depth 
of his beliefs, she merely questioned the plausibility of his 
allegations.  Didn't he understand that by now?  She opened her 
mouth a few times to tell him so, but Mulder broke their gaze, 
moving past her to head down the path alone, his jaw set and his 
shoulders squared.

"Mulder..." she called to him, then let out a frustrated sigh, 
following him down the trail.


XxXxXxXxx


They moved on in silence, neither speaking but both thinking about 
their disagreement.  Mulder was considering that perhaps she HAD 
really spoken with Ulrich, as he hadn't actually seen the event take 
place.  It was possible that she had walked into the canyon, had a 
conversation with Father Schroeder and then returned to the alcove 
without remembering how she got back.  What didn't make sense, 
though, was the fact that she could remember the conversation but 
not the part about returning to the alcove.  That, and the fact that 
Father Schroeder was reportedly dead and six feet under back in 
Washington D.C. 

Mulder had to concede that he hadn't slept since the night before 
last, and although he felt no fatigue, it was possible that he might 
be suffering from sleep deprivation.  And he had spent more than a 
passing thought on their developing relationship, so her arguments 
were valid.

For her part, Scully was crabby, and she knew it.  She had the 
beginning symptoms of a potential migraine.  She had been dragged 
out of her comfortable apartment in the middle of the night, just 
after sex, sans shower or sleep, and across the country to go 
traipsing around nature in a rainstorm.  She felt dirty, sticky, 
itchy and cold.  She wanted a hot shower and a soft bed, even though 
she wasn't tired...she just wanted to shut her eyes and turn off her 
thoughts for a little while.  She wanted to forget that Mulder was 
pissed off at her for thinking the way she thinks and that they were 
in Arizona with Alex Krycek, chasing aliens and talking to alleged 
dead priests who wanted to impart divine wisdom about the power of 
their relationship.

She wanted to go home.  At this point, she'd even settle for the 
rental car and miles of good road in the right direction.

She considered that perhaps Mulder had come closer to the truth than 
she'd like to admit - He had more or less implied that she might be 
more inclined to believe she'd had a vision if it had been hers 
alone.  She'd always taken a more skeptical approach whenever Mulder 
insisted he'd seen something not easily explained, as it was always 
her designated role to do so.  Usually, Mulder wasn't there to take 
the leap of logic for her when she would more readily accept the 
less-than-plausible theory.  And the fact remained that they both 
received messages that were strikingly similar, both of them finding 
themselves right back in the alcove with no knowledge of how they 
had gotten back there.

"Listen to your heart," Father Schroeder had told her, and she had 
taken his message to heart, despite her questions about his 
appearance.  She had to consider both points of view.  And there was 
one thing that had yet to be done, but she could do when she got 
home.  She would petition the church for permission to exhume and 
examine the body that they claimed and buried in the name of Father 
Ulrich Schroeder, to lay to rest once and for all the question about 
the identity of the man lying in St. Mary's Cemetery.  That would 
explain a lot about the nature of her meeting with the man in the 
canyon.

Mulder had stopped, and was looking at sky ahead.  She stepped up 
beside him, watching his face for a clue about what he was thinking.  

"What is it, Mulder?" she asked, concern in her voice.

His lips were pursed together, his eyes squinting.  "Chopper."

She looked in the direction of his gaze, and they both saw a 
helicopter rise up in the distance, the movement of the spotlight 
accompanied by the soft, distinct sound of the machinery.

"Do you think they're looking for us?"

He didn't appear to be angry with her anymore.  He bit the inside of 
his cheek, still watching, and shook his head.  "I don't think so.  
Whoever that is, we probably want to avoid them at all costs.  Come 
on."

He touched his hand to her lower back and she let out a breath, 
moving ahead with him at a much quicker pace than before.


XxXxXxXxX


Skinner found himself at a juncture where the trail split and he 
chose another direction, the one that led upward toward the back of 
the canyon, rather than heading toward the prominent knoll and the 
strange rock formations.  It was dark, but the moon was beginning to 
make an appearance more and more frequently and he was able to make 
his way without stumbling or falling into the wash that ran 
alongside the trail.  The trail was firm, as it was mostly rock and 
packed dirt, but there were a few muddy places that he had to 
navigate around.  However, the lack of visible footprints led him to 
believe that perhaps he'd chosen the wrong trail.

He heard a helicopter engine, and saw a searchlight illuminating the 
area that he assumed was the mouth of the canyon where the C.D.C. 
had begun their investigation.  The presence of the helicopter was 
actually a bonus in his estimation, as it gave him an idea of where 
they were in relation to where he was, so he had the advantage when 
it came to staying out of sight.  He figured Mulder and Scully would 
be avoiding that helicopter as well.

He proceeded cautiously, making as little noise as possible while 
keeping his ears open for sounds of other feet on the trail or maybe 
even voices.  After nearly half an hour of hiking in relative 
silence, he paused just below a rocky incline which lead up to a 
ledge.  It would be an easy climb and since nearly all of the clouds 
had vanished, he had the assistance of full moonlight to help him 
see the way.  From the ledge he'd be able to see a good portion of 
the area that lay ahead of him.

He saw movement on the ledge, and crouching beside a large bush, saw 
the figure of a man.  He was facing the other direction, looking out 
over the canyon as Skinner had intended to do.  Unaware that he had 
been spotted from behind, the man crouched down on his haunches as 
he perused the canyon.

Alex Krycek.

Skinner moved slowly, picking his way up the incline as quietly as 
possible.  The helicopter was drawing closer, the sound of its 
engine helping to mask his approach.  As he reached the flat ground 
of the ledge Krycek turned, realizing that he had company.

"Assistant Director Skinner," Krycek said with a chuff, as if he'd 
expected to see him all along.

"Where are they?" Skinner asked.  He didn't need to say who - they 
both knew who he meant.

"Down there, somewhere," Krycek pointed over the edge toward the 
canyon below.  Skinner stepped closer and looked down.  There as a 
sharp drop, and then a sprinkling of brush and trees on the wall of 
the ledge where it gradually inclined toward the bottom of the 
canyon.  Beyond the incline, there was a large clearing that 
appeared to be some kind of camping site.

It was a long way down.

"What's going on here?" Skinner asked, looking Krycek in the eye as 
he did so.

"An alien hunt," Krycek replied.  
 
Krycek's flip demeanor played on his already raw nerves, and Skinner 
grit his teeth.  "I've seen the C.D.C. gathering in the parking lot, 
Krycek, and they aren't here to take water samples.  What kind of a 
game are you playing?"

"It's no game," Krycek said, pressing his lips into a thin line.  He 
turned, looking back out over the canyon once more.  "This is deadly 
serious."

"Are they being set up?"  Krycek didn't respond, and didn't meet his 
gaze.

Skinner folded his arms in front of him and shifted his 
weight on his feet.  To say he was already irritated was an 
understatement.  He let out a huff of air and clenched his eyes shut 
a moment.

"What's your role in all of this?" he prodded.

Again, Krycek didn't respond.

Mulder's voice came from behind, saying, "That seems to be the 
$64,000 question."

Skinner and Krycek both turned to see Mulder and Scully stepping 
onto the rock ledge behind them.

"Are you two alright?" Skinner asked, glancing from his face to hers 
and back to his again.

"Fine," Mulder said with a nod, standing with his feet spread apart 
in a position of defense.

The sound of the nearby helicopter was growing louder, indicating 
that it was getting even closer.  "But we need to get out of here 
before that chopper finds us or we may all be what they'll sell to 
the media as the next big outbreak of the Hanta virus."

Skinner nodded, and Scully touched a hand to Mulder's arm.  "Father 
Schroeder..."

Mulder looked at her a moment, then nodded.  He understood she was 
concerned that he might still be in the canyon.

Skinner watched their interaction, and asked with incredulity, "What 
about Father Schroeder?"

Scully replied, "He's alive and I have every reason to believe he's 
in this canyon."

They had to talk louder than usual to compensate for the sound of 
the helicopter filling their ears.  Skinner turned to Mulder.

"I didn't see him, but Scully did," Mulder shouted.

Scully looked up at him with a look of gratitude for accepting her 
interpretation of her experience and he met her look with a gleam of 
respect in his eye.  

"She saw him in the back of the canyon.  He may have made his 
way out already but we have no way of knowing that."

Krycek let out a huff, shaking his head.  "That wasn't Ulrich.  I 
can 
promise you that he is very dead."

"You said you weren't involved in his murder."  Scully replied, 
turning to face him.

Krycek remained silent, and Skinner stepped forward, grabbing the 
younger man by the lapels of his leather jacket.

"You'd better start talking while you still have the ability, 
Krycek.  What do you know about it?"

"I don't know anything more than what I've already told you.  You 
won't find the shooter."

"Antonio Cardinale was apprehended trying to leave the country.  He 
hung himself in his cell in Miami.  Again, what do you know about 
it?" Skinner asked him.

"Antonio was a hired killer, hired by smoking man, just like his 
brother Luis."

Scully paced back and forth in front of him like a caged tiger.  
Smoking man.  C.G.B. Spender.  The man who made overtures to her 
about the cure for cancer, convinced her to follow him, talked about 
turning over a new leaf before dying then betrayed her and Mulder's 
trust in her.  The mere mention of the man crushed her capacity for 
forgiveness.

"You're saying that smoking man hired Antonio Cardinale to kill 
Father Schroeder, just as he hired Luis Cardinale to shoot my sister 
in my apartment?"

"He hired him, but it wasn't your sister he was supposed to kill."

She drew in a long breath, her chest rising as she glanced over at 
Mulder.  His hands were clenching and unclenching into fists at his 
sides.  

"Smoking man wanted me dead.  You would know that because 
you were there as well, weren't you?"  Scully nearly barked at 
Krycek, her accusation hitting him square on the mark as her eyes 
burned into his.  "Both times, then and now."

He averted his gaze briefly, then met her look head on, which in and 
of itself was a reply.  "I didn't kill the priest."

Scully's anger was at full boil with Krycek's admission.  He was in 
her apartment with Luis Cardinale.  Hired by C.G.B. Spender to kill 
her because she'd gotten to close to the truth about the project.  
And for all of Spender's paternal ramblings of affection and 
respect, taking credit for saving her life, for the technology at 
the base of her neck that allegedly put her cancer into remission, 
he was the one responsible for taking Melissa's life.  Missy, her 
big sister, who never knew what she was stepping into when she 
walked in that apartment door and received a bullet.  All of the 
suffering!  Not only had he tried to have her killed, he had taken 
her, took away three months of her life and her ability to bear 
children.  

She felt the full implication of his betrayal even more keenly than 
before, in addition to the sting of Krycek's participation in that 
betrayal.  He stood before her.  A living, physical testament to the 
pain and deceit.

She knew Mulder suspected Krycek of killing his own father, and as 
all of the pieces fell into place her heart hardened.  She reached 
behind her back, feeling for her weapon, making sure it was still 
there.  One false move on his part and all it would take was one 
clear shot right between the eyes...one shot in exchange for the 
mountain of hurt she and Mulder had suffered at the hands of these 
men.  For Missy, for Emily, for Bill Mulder and Samantha...

Her finger twitched as it touched the cold gun metal, her head 
immediately starting to throb as her headache grew stronger.

One shot.

Mulder turned away from Krycek, his hands on his hips and his lips 
pulled back over his teeth in an angry grimace.  His feelings were 
obvious, and he was barely keeping them under control, but it was a 
hell of an internal debate.  He wanted revenge, for himself and for 
Scully.  He could see Scully seething, feel her pain and that was 
even more of an incentive to take him out.  He should have taken out 
that black-lunged S.O.B. when he had the chance, but Krycek would do 
in a pinch. 

He'd spent six months with Krycek, reading his thoughts.  He never 
read this...the man was adept at keeping secrets.  For all of his 
Hegalian intent, Alex Krycek deserved to die for his sins just as 
much as C.G.B. Spender did.

Skinner was not oblivious to the pain his agents were experiencing, 
and he already had his hands on Krycek.  He shoved him against the 
rock wall that supported the ledge, his back mercilessly pressed 
into a large protrusion that bent his spine at an unnatural angle.  
Krycek grimaced, trying not to show how uncomfortable he really was 
as Skinner got down in his face.

"Whether you actually pulled the trigger or not, this is where it 
all ends, you son of a bitch."

Krycek laughed in his face in spite of his pain - a hollow, 
frightened sound meant to show his lack of fear.

"You don't get it," he said, his eyes serious.  "It's not just me or 
him.  It's never been just him.  He's had to answer to someone else 
just like I've had to do." He tossed his head in Mulder and Scully's 
direction.  "Just like they do with you and you do with..."

"Who?" Skinner interrupted.  He was close enough to feel his panting 
breath, his teeth bared.  He shoved against him once more, his 
forearm covering his trachea, crushing it.  "Who is calling all of 
the shots?"

Krycek struggled against Skinner, unable to gain any leverage.  If 
he could just get a foot on firm ground... "Strughold," he huffed 
out finally, his body drooping from the exertion.

Mulder turned and looked at Scully, and she glanced up to meet his 
gaze.  "Strughold Mining Company," she said to him in a low voice, 
barely audible above the chopper's engine, and he nodded.  All of 
those files they'd found years ago, locked in the side of a 
mountain.  All containing tissue samples.  A genetic database of 
every man, woman and child born in the United States since the 
1950's.

Her name had been on one of those files.  So had his, covered over 
with Samantha's name instead.

Skinner pushed him harder.  "Who is Strughold?" he asked roughly.

"An original member of the consortium," Krycek replied hoarsely, his 
feet slipping out from under him, creating added pressure on his 
throat where Skinner had him pinned.  "Part of the Paper Clip 
operation, the one directly responsible for instigating and 
implementing the project." 

"The consortium is finished," Mulder yelled, stepping forward.  
"They all died at El Rico.  There is no more project."

"No.  Not everybody," Krycek replied, the sweat dripping off his 
brow.  "Strughold wasn't there.  Smoking Man wasn't there."

"And neither were you," Scully added with contempt.

Krycek coughed, the air passing through his lips in thin gasps.  
"You're wasting time.  They're here now.  Both of them.  To capture 
the E.B.E.  To rebuild the project."

"Whatever they told you, the E.B.E. is gone," Mulder replied, "and 
there's not going to be another project.  It's out of their hands.  
It's finished."

Krycek chuckled, despite his situation.  His eyes were dark and 
cold.  "There will be another project.  Don't you get it?  These 
people control the future.  In true Nazi form, Strughold has 
retained records on everything.  He's got a team of geneticists 
assembled.  All he needs is the genetic material from the living 
E.B.E. to 
pick up where they left off last time."

"Not if I have anything to say about it," Skinner growled in his 
face.  "You may have been able to manipulate me in the past, but 
that stops right here, right now, even if I have to die to see that 
it does."

Krycek closed his eyes, then looked straight at him.  "I don't have 
the ability to kill you anymore."

Skinner barely heard him.  Or perhaps he misunderstood.  "What?" he 
barked.

"The nanotechnology that infected your blood.  It's gone.  The body 
breaks it down like any foreign substance."

"How?" Scully asked, stepping closer so that she could hear better 
over the pulsing of the helicopter engine growing nearer and nearer.

"White blood cells.  They attack it like an infection and eliminate 
it in the usual way."

"How long?" Skinner hissed.  When he didn't receive an answer, he 
pushed his full weight against Krycek's throat and growled, "HOW 
LONG?"

Krycek's feet kicked underneath him, struggling for leverage, small 
rocks spraying out with his effort.  "A couple of months after you 
were infected."

Skinner's fists clenched, and he let out a huff, the pressure on 
Krycek's trachea easing off.  At that moment, Krycek was able to get 
his foot firmly planted on a large piece of rock, and he shoved 
against Skinner's chest with all of this strength.  Skinner stumbled 
backward, grabbing onto Krycek's jacket in the processing and 
pulling him back with him.  Their balance was thrown off and they 
both fell to the ground, wrestling for power.

At that moment a helicopter appeared from behind the rock wall, a 
drab green, the air from the blades thrashing the plants and shrubs 
to and fro and whipping Scully's hair into her eyes.  It was dark, 
but the spotlight shone down on them, creating a nearly cinematic 
illumination on the scene that was unfolding and preventing them to 
see beyond the source of the light.

Scully had her weapon out the second Krycek had shoved Skinner, both 
hands wrapped around the gun's grip, her legs spread in the standard 
position as she hunched forward, her focus right on the two men 
struggling.  Her head was pounding and out of the corner of her eyes 
she saw Mulder had assumed the same position, his attention 
alternating between the men on the ground and the chopper in the air 
above.

"I can't get a clear shot," Scully called out to Mulder, her eyes 
never leaving the two men on the ground.

"Neither can I," Mulder yelled back.  The men rolled toward the 
rock's edge and they held their breath, letting it out slowly as 
they rolled back away.

With the sound of the helicopter and the spotlight hitting her eyes 
adding to the throbbing cranial ache, Scully closed her eyes and 
shook her head, hoping to clear her blurring vision.  When that 
didn't work, she let her arms drop down to her sides, still 
clutching her gun, and rubbed her eyes with the free hand.

"Scully?" Mulder called out to her with concern.  Krycek landed a 
solid punch into the side of Skinner's jaw, and illuminated by the 
spotlight, the two moved toward the steep side of the ledge once 
more.

The helicopter had no place to set down so it circled, attempting to 
keep the spotlight on them but their movement making the tracking 
difficult.  Hovering above, the volume of the sound changed 
according to its position in the air.

Scully heard a hum growing louder in her ears as the sounds of the 
helicopter, the men struggling and Mulder shouting her name grew 
fainter and fainter.  Her vision became a field of fuzzy white, the 
bouncing spotlight fading out of view, and she stumbled to her right 
in an attempt to compensate for the wave of dizziness that 
disoriented her.  All at once she was wrapped up into two strong 
arms, the comfort and warmth of Mulder washing over her like 
security blanket and she buried her face under his chin.

The humming began to fade and the sounds of the helicopter and the 
chaos grew stronger again, accompanied by the soft whispers of 
nonsensical words and 'shhh' coming from Mulder's lips.  She turned 
her head, and illuminated in the spotlight she saw Skinner 
straddling Krycek's hips, pounding his fist into his face as Krycek 
tried to hold him off with his one good arm.

For all of her anger, she knew that violence was not the solution.  
Father Schroeder had mentioned that there was a connection between 
all things, and she knew that answering violence with violence would 
only perpetuate that violence.  Krycek had confessed to 
reprehensible crimes, but it was not their right to take his life 
from him.  His life was in God's hands.  

"Mulder," she said with alarm, looking up at him.  Mulder was 
watching the scene, a look of helplessness on his face.  "Mulder, 
he's killing him."  Mulder looked down into her face with an 
expression that said, 'I know, but I'm not letting you go' and she 
met his look with large pleading eyes.  Do something.  "Mulder.  
Please."

He drew in a shaky breath and ran a finger down her cheek, nodding.  
He remembered what Andy had said about the importance of life - all 
life, and each individual soul, and he understood why she wanted him 
to intervene.  Helping her to her feet, he let go of her when he 
could see that she was able to stand on her own.  'Are you okay?' he 
asked with his eyes, and when she nodded he carefully moved toward 
the two men near the edge of the ledge.

"Sir!" he yelled, receiving no response.  Krycek was twisting 
underneath Skinner, his hand clamped around Skinner's throat as 
Skinner pushed his face into the rock with one arm, the other trying 
to pry Krycek's fingers off of his neck.

Mulder moved a little closer, illuminated by the spotlight and 
entering Skinner's direct line of vision.  "SIR!" he yelled again, 
the wind from the chopper blades whipping the loose material of his 
T-shirt around his body.  He looked up at the helicopter, almost 
expecting to see a rifle trained on him, but all he could see was 
the glare of the spotlight.

Skinner saw Mulder out of the corner of his eye, and with his teeth 
clenched, yelled, "Mulder, help me!"

"NO SIR!" Mulder yelled back.  "Not like this!  You have to stop!"  

Scully appeared in the light next to him, her arms outstretched with 
her palms flat out in the universal body language to stop.

"SIR!" she yelled, her hair thrashing around in the wind.  "Let it 
go!"

Skinner glanced up at the both of them, and in that one second 
recognized it as one of the life-altering moments of his life.  Out 
of anger he was about to kill a man with his bare hands.  He could 
claim self-defense, but he realized that his desire to kill had 
nothing to do with self-preservation and everything to do with hate.

His years in Nam, barely old enough to vote, taught him about hate, 
and he'd lived the rest of his life in the shadow of his actions.  
He had done things since then that he was not proud of, but he would 
not add this to his burden.

Skinner removed his hand from Krycek's face and used both hands to 
wrench the fingers away from his neck.  Krycek let go, and for the 
briefest instant the men saw into each other's eyes, both breathing 
heavily.  Then Skinner moved to get off of him and Krycek twisted, 
sliding his leg underneath Skinner's leg and dropping him to the 
ground.  He rolled over on top of him, and Skinner grabbed his 
shoulders to hold him off.  He shoved, and Krycek rolled over the 
top of him, grabbing him around the neck.

Scully gasped as they came right up to the rock's edge.  In one of 
those unforgettable moments in life that seem to move in slow 
motion, both she and Mulder moved forward, too slow and too late to 
stop the two men from rolling over the steep side of the ledge into 
the canyon far below.


XxXxXxXxX  End Chapter Thirteen 


Himself as in all beings,
And all beings in himself,
Sees he whose self is disciplined in discipline,
Who sees the same in all things.
Who sees Me in all,
And sees all in Me,
For him I am not lost,
And he is not lost for me.
Whoso reveres me as abiding in all things,
adopting the belief in oneness,
though abiding in any possible condition,
that disciplined man abides in Me.
- Bhagavad Gita [vi. 29-31]


XxXxXxXxX Chapter Fourteen


"NNNOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!"

Scully's anguished wail echoed through the canyon as she knelt at 
the rock's edge, her chest heaving as she peered into the darkness 
below.  Mulder was right beside her, squinting to try to see farther 
or better than the moonlight and his limited, unassisted eyesight 
would allow.  The helicopter was pulling back, its spotlight 
scanning the incline and the bottom of the canyon.

"It's too far, Mulder," she said mournfully, her eyes still intent 
on the ground below, hoping for a miracle.  "There's no way..."

"We don't know that," he said firmly, his voice intense.

The farther the spotlight traveled down the incline, the stronger 
her feeling of dread became.  The angle was wrong; they couldn't be 
that far out into the canyon.  Skinner and Krycek would have had to 
jump off of the ledge at a full run to even attempt to land that far 
away.

Scully closed her eyes and turned away, her back hunched and her 
shoulders sagging forward.  The sound of the helicopter marked the 
passing of time, each second excruciating in its inability to bring 
the men back.  Mulder was still scanning the ground below, and she 
turned to look at him, her eyes weary.  She watched him a moment, 
knowing he was clinging to his hope that they may have survived the 
fall.

"Mulder," she said in a low, defeated voice.

He didn't reply, and she swallowed thickly.  "Mulder," she said 
again, a bit louder.

"No, Scully.  No."  He shook his head.  "I don't believe it.  I 
don't."  He wouldn't look at her, or let his eyes leave the 
spotlight.

She drew in a deep breath, her entire upper body heaving as she did 
so.  Then she exhaled slowly, placing a hand on Mulder's shoulder as 
she watched his face in the pale moonlight.

He bit his lip, tracking the spotlight across the floor of the 
canyon.  She turned away, tears forming in her eyes, unable to bear 
the look on Mulder's face any longer.

"Scully," he said a moment later, his voice urgent.

She turned back.  He was leaning farther over the ledge, his face 
expectant. 

"Scully, look."

With both hope and dread she turned and looked back down into the 
canyon, seeing the spotlight illuminate the figures of the two men 
in the clearing far below.  They were lying on their backs, about 
four feet apart.  It was too far to see if they were breathing, but 
their limbs didn't appear to be set in any unusual angles.

It was impossible that they could have fallen that far and survived.

And then, Krycek moved.

Her mouth fell open as she watched Krycek look up at the helicopter, 
then stand on his feet.  He seemed a little stiff and perhaps 
disoriented.  He glanced down at Skinner, wiped his hand over his 
mouth, and stumbled off into the darkness.

"That's not poss..." Scully said with disbelief, stopping mid-
sentence when Skinner lifted his head, the light shining off of his 
bald spot like a beacon in the night.

Mulder's laugh was pure joy, and her own face showed her surprise 
and then her delight as she watched the assistant director sit up.  
He brushed himself off and shielded his eyes, trying to spot them on 
the ledge.  Then he turned and looked up at the helicopter, rising 
to his feet as the chopper slowly landed in the clearing.

They saw him move toward the helicopter and climb inside, and after 
a few moments it lifted from the ground, rising up toward the ledge.  
There was no room for the helicopter to land, but it came close, 
hovering just above them with the side door open.  Both standing, 
they could see the pilot, a Native American male wearing a uniform 
that indicated he was a park ranger.

Skinner was belted into the passenger side adjusting the way his 
glasses fit behind his ears.

"This is Joe Littlefoot," Skinner yelled at them through the open 
door, his voice just audible above the sound of the chopper's 
blades.  "He heard about the closure of the canyon and thought he'd 
offer his services."

"Are you alright?" Scully yelled back.

"All things considered, I feel fine!" he bellowed, and Mulder turned 
and looked at Scully with a wide grin on his face.  "Joe's offered 
to take me to the hospital to get checked out."

"I want to come with you!" Scully replied.

Skinner shook his head.  "I'll be alright.  I need you to locate 
Krycek before he gets too much of a lead."

Mulder raised his hand to bid them off, and Joe Littlefoot nodded at 
them.  Then the helicopter lifted, turning back in the direction it 
originally came from.  As the sound grew fainter, they realized that 
they could hear another helicopter in the opposite direction.

There were, in fact, two helicopters.  Joe Littlefoot's, and the 
C.D.C.'s chopper still hovering near the mouth of the canyon.  The 
chance was pretty good that the agents' presence in the canyon was 
now known, if it hadn't been previously.

Mulder held Scully's gaze, and without saying a word they agreed to 
move on in search of Krycek.


XxXxXxXxX Enchantment Resort


His thick hands clenched in fists at his sides, Strughold glowered 
at the men who nervously worked on the electronic monitoring 
equipment.  He had seen this project through every development since 
the very beginning, and it was clear to him that it was all falling 
apart under his colleague's tutelage.

They had raw materials frozen from before - samples of blood and 
tissue - but a live specimen was more than difficult to secure.  Not 
the human test subject - they were easy to find, but there hadn't 
been any 'contact' with the extraterrestrial race since before the 
unfortunate incident at El Rico.

He questioned whether or not there was an actual extraterrestrial 
biological entity in that canyon.  This time, he had not been the 
one with whom contact was made, and this made him suspicious.  He 
questioned his colleague's motives.

Conrad Strughold was a man who had seen more than most in his 
lifetime.  He'd survived the war of his youth.  He missed his 
country and, despite familial difficulties, he had made a good life 
for himself in the United States and later in Tunis.  He had escaped 
the Nuremburg trials so many of his peers had to face and survived 
the recent horrors of the rebels who came to destroy the project and 
the rest of the consortium.

Now the only one left besides him was Spender.  The smoker was a 
mere shell of the man he once was - physically ill and delusional.

He'd never trusted Spender.

Watching him now, cool behind his cloud of smoke and staring out the 
window into the canyon, Strughold knew that there was no future to 
be made with this man.  This man wanted to play games with men like 
Alex Krycek and Fox Mulder.  This man was not interested in the 
science.

The young men that Strughold had brought into the project himself 
were the new generation, though.  They had a vested interest in 
Eugenics and racial purity.  They understood their heritage, the 
importance of their role and that the future was theirs to fight 
for.  They would do it for him.  These are the men on whom he could 
lay his hopes and his legacy.

The new reich.

Strughold watched as Spender turned to check the laptop screen on 
the table near the window, lighting another cigarette.

Again and again with Agents Mulder and Scully.

And Agent Mulder - he had been right under their noses all of this 
time.  Bill Mulder's snot-nosed kid, the perfect hybrid.  The most 
talented geneticists in the world would have been able to collect 
years of research from him.  Mulder could have communicated with the 
colonists, read their thoughts and learned their true intentions. 

But Spender was not interested in the science.  He wanted to BE Fox 
Mulder.  He had the most valuable part of Mulder cut out, placing it 
inside of his own head.  It had been for nothing, and he had 
rendered Mulder useless to the project as well.

Strughold was finished with Mulder and Scully, finished with Krycek 
and Spender and their silly games.  Turning away from Spender, he 
walked out of the room.  He would continue his project elsewhere - 
there was nothing for him here.


XxXxXxXxX Boynton Canyon


As they came nearer to the entrance of the canyon, Mulder and Scully 
moved more cautiously, aware that the area was under intense 
scrutiny.  Ahead of them the helicopter was hovering over the trail 
that they had just left, the one that led into the back of the 
canyon.  The agents had turned and were now headed toward the knoll 
and the unusual rock formations just inside the canyon's mouth.  
They passed by the twisted juniper trees while above them, the stars 
were bright against the clear, black sky.

Mulder paused just at the base of the knoll.  He listened intently 
for the sounds of anyone nearby, hearing only the sound of Scully's 
breathing and the helicopter in the distance.

"Mulder?" Scully said softly, leaning in close.

"I'm fine, Scully.  I want to try to pick up on Krycek's location."

"Do you think he's still in the canyon?"

"I don't know."

She let out a sigh, her eyes turning to look at the strange rock 
formations outlined against the stars above them as they continued 
up the knoll.

She thought that one of the formations looked a lot like a coffee 
pot. 

Mulder stopped again at the top of the knoll, feeling the energy of 
the vortex at its most powerful.  This had to be the center.  
Closing his eyes he drew in a deep breath, letting it out slowly and 
almost immediately he could hear Scully's thoughts, pondering coffee 
pots and the shapes of the rock formations just ahead of them.  He 
forced himself past her, without trying to figure out her logic, 
searching for what could almost be described as distorted white 
noise, for the sound of another clear thought.  It was like trying 
to tune a radio manually - finding a clear signal required finesse.

Suddenly, there was a cacophony of voices in his head and then the 
feel of hard gun metal in his back.  He opened his eyes, seeing 
Scully standing rigid beside him, her hands raised.

"We've got 'em," someone was saying behind him.  Whether it was to 
others or into some kind of communication device, he wasn't sure.  
When the man said, "no, just the two of them, on the knoll," and 
then "yes, sir," in response to silence, he knew it was the latter.

"Federal agents," Scully declared over her shoulder in her firmest 
voice.

They were searched and relieved of their weapons and told they could 
drop their arms.  As they turned to look at their captors, they saw 
three men dressed in full decontamination suits and bearing semi-
automatic rifles.

"Nobody told me this was a costume party," Mulder said without 
inflection.  Scully's eyes met his, and they shared a look.

"What grounds are you holding us on?" Scully asked the men sharply.

"Exposure to a suspected contagion," was the reply.
They both knew that was a load of shit, just as they knew that these 
men weren't from the C.D.C.

"What contagion?" Scully asked, receiving no further reply.  She 
glanced at Mulder again, and the group was joined by half a dozen 
more men in contamination suits.  The helicopter came shortly 
thereafter, the red rock formations casting twisted coffee pot 
shaped shadows over them as the black chopper's spotlight circled 
behind and around to keep the scene illuminated. 

One of the men stumbled and bent over at the waist, much like Krycek 
had done earlier.  The man on his right lowered his rifle and leaned 
down to look into the distraught man's face.  Another turned toward 
them.

"What's wrong with him?"

The man who was ill shook his head, drawing in deep breaths.  "I 
don't know.  It was just a headache, but it keeps getting worse.  
I'm sweating like a horse, and I think I'm gonna throw up."

"It's the same thing that happened to the others back at the 
entrance.  Get him out of here!" Came an authoritative voice from 
the dark as two of the men in decontamination suites helped the man 
climb down the side of the knoll.

"Agent Mulder."

Both agents turned to see C.G.B. Spender approach.  He wasn't 
wearing a decontamination suit, and there was a lit Morley 
positioned between his lips.

The armed men still standing in front of them moved to the side, so 
that Mulder and Scully were effectively boxed in between the side of 
the knoll, the sentries and Spender.

Agent Scully," Spender added with a lilt, "A pleasure to see you 
again."

"What's going on here?" Scully nearly barked at him as Mulder 
shifted his weight from one to foot to the other, his mouth pressed 
into a thin line.

The smoker smiled at her, drawing on his cigarette as his eyes 
narrowed.  "You're looking well."

"I wish I could say the same," Scully responded.  "You look like 
hell."

Mulder crossed his arms in front of him.  "Cut the crap, and tell us 
what you want this time."

Spender paused.  "You don't know?"

"Know what?" Mulder said, "That we're being held at gunpoint for 
exposure to a SUSPECTED contagion, by a group of men masquerading as 
the C.D.C., while YOU'RE walking around unhindered and unprotected?"

There was another pause as the smoker blew out a breath of smoke and 
drew in another.

"What brings you to Arizona, Fox?" Spender asked, his voice 
conversational, with a hint of paternal affection.

"I had a craving for real guacamole.  You?"

Spender dropped his cigarette to the ground and rubbed it out with 
the toe of his shoe.  He immediately lit another.
"I heard there was an alien in this canyon."  He blew out a breath.  
"Have you seen it?"

"She did," a voice answered from just behind him.

Krycek's voice.

He nodded toward Scully, and her lips parted in surprise as the 
smoker turned to face Krycek.  She glanced at Mulder, who was 
intently watching Krycek.

Spender took in Krycek's somewhat dusty and disheveled countenance.

"Nice of you to join us, Alex."

"I don't know where you got that idea, Krycek, but you're mistaken," 
Scully said.

Krycek stepped forward, entering their loose semi-circle.  "It was a 
shapeshifter.  She saw it in the back of the canyon."

Scully's eyes grew wider at the assumption.  Was that what she'd 
seen impersonating Mulder years ago?  A shapeshifter?

The question was, a shapeshifting WHAT?

"She saw a man," Mulder replied, glaring at Krycek.  With Krycek's 
obvious betrayal, he expected his carefully-honed ability would be 
outed as well, if it hadn't been already.

The smoker studied Scully as he drew in a deep breath of smoke.  
"Where is it, Dana?"  His voice was soft.  Tender.

Deadly.

At the use of her given name, Mulder glared at Spender, his eyes 
dark and angry.  He made it clear he didn't like the familiarity 
that the smoker showed with her.

Spender exhaled smoke through his nose and smiled, knowing that he'd 
struck a nerve.

"I saw a man.  A priest," Scully said firmly.  "Not alien."

"She said she saw Father Ulrich Schroeder," Krycek added.

The smoker took another drag from his cigarette.  "Is that right?  
And where was Agent Mulder while this was taking place?"

"He wasn't there," Scully said firmly, glaring at Krycek in warning.

"So Agent Mulder hasn't been exposed, then.  He can go.  We need 
only detain Agent Scully," Spender said casually.

Mulder stepped closer to him.  "Listen, you son of a bitch -"

He was stopped by the insistence, once again, of gun metal.

A thickly accented voice came from out of nowhere, saying, "Let the 
evil-doer go on doing evil and the filthy-minded wallow in his 
filth, but let the good man persevere in his goodness and the 
dedicated man be true to his dedication."

Mulder's lips parted in surprise, and the smoker and Krycek both 
looked up to see Father Ulrich Schroeder standing directly behind 
Mulder, his hands folded in front of him.

Staring at the priest, Spender swallowed and drew in a breath, his 
cigarette poised between his thumb and forefinger at his side.

Ulrich stepped up, standing next to Mulder.  He looked up at the 
helicopter hovering overhead, then met Mulder's gaze, offering him a 
knowing smile.

Mulder stared at him in understanding, and closed his eyes, focusing 
on the mental voices around him.  He could pick up more than one, 
coming in succession and sometimes overlapping, but each a distinct 
voice.

Spender was afraid.  He had not counted on a shapeshifter.  He did 
not possess the ability to communicate with it telepathically, and 
he longed for that ability.

He was not aware that Mulder possessed that ability.

"Who are you?" Spender asked Father Schroeder, his tone no longer 
conversational.

"I am the Alpha and the Omega, the first and the last, the beginning 
and the end," Ulrich answered calmly.

Mulder heard Ulrich's response in his head and in his ears.

Krycek glanced to the side at Spender, gauging his response to 
Ulrich's presence by the growing cylinder of ash at the end of his 
cigarette.

In his own hand he held a cylinder of steel.  The sharp point was 
still encased in the metal, but when deployed it resembled an ice 
pick.

Mulder read his intention, and inside his head he screamed, "No!"  
Opening his eyes, he became caught up in Ulrich's peaceful gaze.

Ulrich knew as well.

"Who sent you?" Spender demanded in the same tone as before.

Ulrich's gaze shifted from Mulder to Scully, although his expression 
remained the same.  "I am here to deliver a message."

"What message?" the smoker commanded.

Ulrich took several steps toward the smoker, speaking softly while 
holding him in his serene gaze.  "Go your way to the end and rest, 
and you shall arise to your destiny at the end of the age."

Spender raised his hand and brought the cigarette to his lips, 
inhaling deeply.  His hand shook.

"Is that all?"

Ulrich did not reply.  He turned and looked once more at Scully, 
then Mulder.

"Remember, I tell you the truth, whoever hears my word and believes 
him who sent me has eternal life and will not be condemned; he has 
crossed over from death to life."

Krycek approached him from behind, the pick-like instrument 
deployed in his palm, poised for striking.  With one swift motion he 
buried the sharp end into the back of Ulrich's neck, dropping the 
weapon to the ground and stumbling backward, away from the body.

They all waited for the bubbling green ooze and toxic fumes to seep 
out of Ulrich's wound.

Instead, a ray of light extended out from the opening in the back of 
Father Schroeder's neck, and his body began to radiate, outlining 
him with a faint glow that gradually grew brighter and brighter.  A 
faint, high-pitched hum could be heard, mounting in volume as the 
light became brighter.

Krycek rose to his feet.  With darkened eyes he deemed that this was 
not what it appeared to be, but much, much worse.  Out of self-
preservation he ran off into the night, as far as he could get from 
the canyon and Ulrich's glow. 

Scully reached over and grabbed Mulder's hand out of empathy, 
feeling a jolt of energy between them like before, reaching up her 
arm and into her torso.

This time she did not let go.

As before, the energy passed through her into him, and through him 
back to her, both of them trying to control their physical reactions 
to the sensations.  Like before, as it spread through their bodies 
it became a constant throbbing sensation, its intensity increasing, 
the tempo building.

The light around Father Schroeder grew brighter, and the smoker's 
eyes belied his horror.  

"Shoot!  Shoot!" he screamed at the armed men watching with open 
mouths.

Several of the men raised their rifles and fired.

Light burst out of the places where the bullets struck the priest's 
torso, the sound rising in pitch and volume, the light's intensity 
growing brighter and brighter as the rays expanded.  Light was now 
radiating out of his eye sockets and the ends of his fingers.

Mulder's eyes were closed, and in the midst of the chaos Scully 
heard him say, clear as a bell inside of her head, "Don't let go."

"I won't," she thought in response, squeezing his hand tighter.

His squeeze in response told her that he'd heard her.

In the air above them, the helicopter's engine sputtered, and the 
spotlight shot up into the clear desert sky as the chopper turned 
forty-five degrees to the side.

Spender saw the helicopter pilot was losing control, and that the 
bullets he'd ordered into Father Schroeder had no effect.  He knew 
his only chance at salvation was to retreat, and yelled to the armed 
men, "Get the hell out of here!"

He took two steps backward, then turned and disappeared down the 
side of the knoll, followed by three of the men.  Four men stayed 
behind on the knoll, watching the scene before them as if in a 
trance.

Father Schroeder's wounds were growing larger, the light expanding 
and taking up more of his physical being while still glowing 
brighter.  His body began to break apart, light shooting out of him 
in all directions, illuminating the night sky.

"Don't look at him, Scully!" Mulder said inside of her head, and she 
shut her eyes tightly, sucking in a deep gasp of air.  The sound in 
the canyon was deafening -- the failing helicopter and the high, 
screaming wail coming off of Father Schroeder.

Inside Scully's head, Mulder's voice was soothing, repeating over 
and over, "It's going to be alright; just hang on, it's going to be 
alright."

The helicopter skirted to the right, going into a tailspin.  It was 
a horrifying sound.  The wind from the chopper's blades was whipping 
their hair and clothing against their bodies, and the sound was so 
loud it seemed that the helicopter would come down right on top of 
them.

Mulder and Scully did not move, nor did they open their eyes.  They 
continued holding on to each other, listening to each others' mental 
voices of comfort while the sounds of the world coming to an end 
screamed all around them.

The armed men still standing on the knoll were shielding their eyes 
with their hands, still watching as the light emanating from Father 
Schroeder become so bright, so white that it was blinding. 

The earth underneath their feet moved as the helicopter hit the 
ground a few hundred yards away and exploded into a fireball that 
rolled up into the nighttime sky, the heat from the fuel-burning 
fire blasting against Mulder's and Scully's backs.  In front of 
them, Father Schroeder expanded in a burst of white brilliance that 
extended into the stars.

And then he was gone.


XxXxXxXxX Chapter Fifteen


The only sound in the dark canyon was the hiss and pop of the fire 
coming off of the chopper's wreckage.

Mulder opened his eyes, and blinking a moment, turned his head to 
look at Scully.  Her eyelashed fluttered as she met his gaze with an 
expression of bewilderment.  They were all alone on top of the knoll 
and except for the fire's glow from the wreckage, the canyon was 
shrouded in darkness.

Their hands were still joined, and they slowly let go, closing their 
eyes as the residual sensations of release washed over them.  As 
their breathing returned to normal, they opened their eyes and 
looked at each other again.

Whatever had just happened, they'd survived it.

Mulder turned to survey the wreckage of the helicopter crash behind 
them.  From the mangled steel, the heat of the burning fuel and the 
all-encompassing fire, he knew that there were no survivors.

Just below the knoll he saw the bodies of four of the armed gunmen 
lying prone on the ground.  Scully had already started down the 
hill, and she reached the men before he did.

The glow from the burning chopper was enough to see that the men 
appeared to be thrown off of the knoll, their arms outstretched as 
if they'd been pinned to the ground.  Although they were still 
incased in their decontamination suits, each one of the armed men 
was left with two black, smoking holes where his eyes had once been.

Scully let out a few short breaths and looked up at Mulder.  There 
were no words to express her emotions at that particular moment.


XxXxXxXxX Enchantment Resort


"We won't know for certain until we can compare it against the 
records back in D.C." Scully was saying into the telephone as Mulder 
emerged from the bathroom engulfed in a cloud of steam.

She was wearing purple silk pajamas, her toes curling into the thick 
pile carpeting as she twisted the phone cord around her fingers.

"Did you tell them how far you fell?"

Listening to her side of the conversation, Mulder rubbed a towel 
over his head.  Another towel was wrapped around his waist, and his 
hair stuck up on end.

"Yes, we've taken a room at the resort."  She looked up at Mulder 
and smiled as he walked past her.  "Thank you, sir."

She hung up the phone and turned to face Mulder, who was crouched 
down in the far corner poking at the fire he'd built earlier, while 
she had been showering.

"Based on the distance he fell, the hospital wants to keep Skinner 
under observation the rest of the night.  He's got a dislocated 
shoulder, but everything else appears to be fine."

"Bumbles bounce," Mulder replied, throwing another piece of wood 
onto the fire.

As an involuntary groan escaped, she smiled in response and sat down 
on the bed.

Mulder turned and looked at her, but didn't say anything.  He only 
offered a gentle grin.

"It'll be light in just a couple of hours, you know," she said 
softly, watching him turn around and poke at the fire once more.

He stood, dusting off his hands.  "I know.  It's not even cold, but 
I like the atmosphere."

He stood and crossed the room, switching off the light and coming 
around to the other side of the bed.  She pulled back the comforter 
and slid between the sheets, and he dropped the towel from his 
waist, doing the same.

"I've come to a conclusion, Mulder," she said quietly as he scooted 
up behind her, spooning against her body underneath the covers.

He propped his head up on his hand.  "What's that?"

"That I don't care how much a person can accomplish if a body didn't 
have to sleep.  I need it for my sanity.  We should have driven back 
to Flagstaff or Phoenix for a room."

"And miss the opportunity to stay at a world-class resort on the 
Bureau's nickel?"  He smiled and reached out to run the back of his 
index finger down the curve of her cheek, his voice rough and 
intimate.  "Besides, YOUR sanity has never been in question, 
Scully."

She turned her face and looked at him, her eyes shining at his 
implication.

"It may be when I try to come up with a rational explanation for 
whatever the hell it was I saw out there tonight."

Mulder thought a moment.  "I don't know that there is a rational 
explanation, or one that can be proved, scientifically or 
otherwise."

"We were in the direct line of fire when Father Schroeder was shot, 
Mulder.  Why didn't either of us get hit?"

He was still stroking her cheek with his finger, his eyes glassing 
over as he considered her question.

"I don't know," he replied, shaking his head slightly, turning his 
focus back to her.

She sighed and he scooted closer, cupping her face in his palm.  
"Let me take your mind off of everything for a while.  Just relax 
and let go."

Scully closed her eyes in assent, and Mulder slid his hand under the 
covers, gently glancing over her front, down her arms and over her 
wrists, where his fingertips stroked the skin gently before moving 
back up her arms again.

She felt herself loosening, softening to the sensations he created 
with his gentle touch and the press of his warm body against hers.  
Her breathing slowed and her mind traveled, not lighting on any 
subject but drifting placidly.

Finally.

"That's nice," she murmured, her eyes still closed.

"Mmmmmmm..." he hummed, one hand reaching down underneath the hem of 
her pajama top to stroke the soft skin on her abdomen.  "Since 
neither of us needs the sleep..." he drawled, letting his voice and 
his wandering hand finish the thought for him.

Her lips curled up in a smile, but her eyes remained shut.  "Alright 
with me," she said in a low, husky voice, then reached up and curled 
her fingers around his face, pulling him down for a deep kiss.  "Let 
me drive," she whispered against his lips as they pulled apart, her 
eyes sparkling in the darkness.

"Alright with me," he echoed.  He shifted his weight and turned onto 
his back with his head resting on a starched beige pillow.  She 
crawled on top of him, straddling his hips and pulling her pajama 
top over her head in one fluid movement.

Mulder slid his hands up her back and around in front, caressing her 
breasts and running his thumbs over the rigid nipples.

She let out a soft breath, and his hands rose up to cradle her face.

"I love it when you drive," he growled, pulling her down toward him 
for another breathtaking kiss.


XxXxXxXxX


They lay on their backs side by side, arms and legs extended, the 
moonlight streaming across their bare skin.

He rolled over onto his side, then parting her thighs with his knee, 
crawled over her and with a self-satisfied smile, settled himself 
into the cradle created there.

"Again?" she asked with a glint in her eyes, letting out a soft 
grunt as his body sank down against hers.

"Mmmm..." was all that she heard as he pressed his lips underneath 
her jawbone.  She decided it was more a vibration than a sound, 
closing her eyes and lifting her chin to give him better access to 
the soft skin of her throat as her hands came up to cup his bare 
shoulder blades.

"How does anybody sleep around here?" Scully asked, blinking up at 
the ceiling.

"Maybe you grow accustomed to it.  Think of all the things you could 
accomplish."

"It's not normal."

"It has its advantages."

She lowered her chin to look at him, and he raised his head to offer 
her a wide, lecherous grin.

"I can see that.  You're enjoying this, aren't you?" she stated.  
"Vortexes to keep you awake all night, a four-star resort hotel 
room, room service..."

He moved his hand over and entwined his fingers with hers above her 
head.  "A beautiful woman in my bed...can't blame me for taking 
advantage of a situation when it presents itself," he said, the 
smile still curling on his lips as he lowered his face to her neck 
once again.

She could tell from the way he was lightly grazing on her neck that 
he wasn't really intending to make love one more time.

"I suppose not," she replied with a smile, closing her eyes.  She 
was content with his attentions, even if they didn't lead anywhere.

Content to just float for awhile.

They were silent a few minutes, then Mulder lifted his head to ask, 
"Wanna watch TV?"

"Anything good on?" she mumbled without opening her eyes, sorry that 
it had to end so soon.

He reached over to the bedside table and grabbed the remote control.  
He tried powering the television on over his shoulder, but the 
screen was a menu of options, and he wasn't wearing his glasses.  
Squinting at the television, he could just make out option three as 
the number for viewing television programming, and he pushed the 
button on the remote, hitting two by mistake and getting the screen 
to review their room account instead.

"Shit," he muttered, rolling off her to lay on his side, trying 
again and finally succeeding.  "Infomercial, Infomercial, Burt 
Reynolds movie..."

"What's on HBO?" she asked, still not opening her eyes.

He was silent a moment, still flipping through the channels as small 
blips of noise and conversation marked his journey.  Finally, Bruce 
Willis appeared.  

"Die Hard Two.  Yippee ki-yay, motherfucker!" he quoted, settling 
back against the pillows with the remote resting on his bare 
stomach.

She still didn't open her eyes.  "Guy movie."

He turned his head and gave her a stony stare, his mouth set in a 
grim line.  Then he picked up the remote control and turned off the 
television with a pitiful sigh.

After a moment, he reached over again, pulling out the drawer on the 
nightstand.

"What are you doing?" she asked, opening her eyes and raising her 
head partway off of the pillow to look at him.

"Looking for a deck of cards.  Wanna play Go Fish?"  He pulled a 
small booklet out of the drawer.

"Not really."

He made the grim face again, and laid back down, looking at the 
booklet.  It was a schedule of timetables for America West Airlines.

"Mulder?" she said in the way that people do when they want to 
preface a question or statement.

"Yeah?"

"Let's go home."

Statement, not question, he noted, flipping through the booklet to 
the scheduled flights to Baltimore.  "There's a direct flight to 
Baltimore out of Phoenix at around 9:30 a.m."

She looked back at him, her eyebrow raised, and he grinned.  
Finally, something they could agree on.


XxXxXxXxX Sky Harbor International Airport, Terminal Four


Mulder took a sip from the too-hot cafe mocha and sucked in a breath 
of air to cool his mouth as he stepped around a passenger examining 
her airline ticket.  Crossing from the Starbucks counter to the gate 
where Scully sat perusing the Sunday morning Arizona Republic, he 
noticed a dark-haired man in his middle to late thirties standing 
near the counter at the adjacent gate, watching Scully with wide 
eyes, his mouth hanging open.

Smiling to himself over Scully's inattention to the admiration, 
Mulder handed her the non-fat cappuccino she'd ordered, and a small 
brown bag containing a non-fat apricot blueberry muffin, which she 
hadn't ordered.  She looked up, met his gaze and his smile, 
accepting the bag with appreciation.

She really did derive joy from the simplest things.

Scully went back to perusing the paper, and Mulder took another sip 
of his mocha, smiling with the satisfaction of knowing her well 
enough to please her.  Glancing up, he noticed that the lurker was 
still watching Scully, and when he realized that Mulder had noticed 
him, his mouth closed into a tight-lipped smile, his eyebrows 
falling as he shrugged.

"Father Schroeder made the local paper," Scully commented quietly, 
pointing to a small blurb near the end of the A-section.

Mulder looked back down at her and broke off a piece of her muffin, 
popping it into his mouth as he read over her shoulder.

"I want to examine the body the church buried, Mulder."

He nodded, finishing the article, which was only a small, follow-up 
blurb mentioning the burial and stating the official facts of the 
carjacking.  He glanced up when his peripheral vision caught someone 
approaching them.

It was Scully's admirer.

Scully looked up just after he did, and her mouth dropped open, a 
look of surprise crossing her face.

"Mike?" she said, and Mulder realized that she actually knew the 
man.

"Hi Agent Scully," Mike said, offering her a smile.  "Is this your 
missing partner?" He raised his hand briefly toward Mulder.

She placed a hand on Mulder's forearm and smiled.  "Not missing 
anymore.  Mulder, this is Mike Moreno.  Um..." she reached up and 
rubbed a finger over her nose, presumably scratching an itch, before 
continuing, "Mike is the manager of the Desert Rose Motel in Trona.  
He took me to the mine to look for you after I'd spotted the 
abandoned tanker trucks."

Mulder looked at Mike, and they nodded their heads at each other. 
Mulder stepped closer to Scully, his hip brushing against her 
shoulder.

"So what brings you to Phoenix, Mike?" she asked pleasantly.

He shifted his weight from foot to foot.  "Oh, just a layover.  
We're on our way to Cabo."

"We?" Scully asked.

Mike smiled sheepishly.  "Oh, Mindy...uh, my wife.  We've just come 
from Vegas.  We flew in from L.A. yesterday and decided to get 
married, so we stayed up all night so we could get the early flight 
out to Cabo."  He nodded at the both of them.  "You know, 
honeymoon."

"Vegas?" Mulder turned his face to look at Scully with a hopeful 
look in his eyes, his eyebrows raised and a playful smile on his 
lips.

She cocked an eyebrow at him that said, 'no way', then offered Mike 
a warm smile.  "Congratulations.  So where is your new wife?"

"She's in the ladies room, I don't know, fixing her makeup or 
something."  Mike shifted again, crossing his arms in front of him.  
"So I'm glad I ran into you, Agent Scully.  I found out a couple of 
days after you left Trona that the government really does own that 
land where we found those trucks.  They bought the mine and 
everything about three months ago."

Mulder raised his head, his eyes focusing intently on Mike.  "Are 
you sure?"

Mike shifted nervously under the scrutiny and nodded back.  "Yeah, 
Mindy's dad works for the Naval Weapons Center.  He said they've 
been doing some testing out there but they had to stop."

"What kind of testing?"

"He doesn't know; it's beyond his security clearance.  I only found 
out about it because there was an accident when they were working on 
the mine.  They contracted an outside company to seal off the 
entrance to the mine, you know, so that nobody could get hurt 
inside.  But they used too much dynamite or something and the entire 
mountain caved in.  A couple of the workers got trapped inside and 
died.  It was terrible - the story even made the Los Angeles Times.  
There hasn't been anybody out there since the accident."

Mulder nodded and looked at Scully.  He'd told her about the upper 
entrance to the mine that the men in lab coats had accessed by a 
retractable ladder, and they both knew whatever had been left behind 
wasn't meant to be found.  Just as likely, the people who were 
buried inside the mine were already dead before the accident. 

One more cover-up to be added to the list.  Mulder wondered how 
Smokey and his men would cover up the deaths of those four victims 
from the knoll.  Maybe they'd just doused them with gasoline, lit 
the match and listed them as casualties of the helicopter crash.

A woman with long frizzy blonde hair walked up to them, and Mike's 
posture straightened.  "What's going on?" she asked somewhat 
suspiciously.

"Hey, Honey," Mike said, putting an arm around her.  "Remember I 
told you about the FBI agent I took out to the mine?"

She was wearing enough makeup for them to be able to see it, and she 
wrapped her arms around Mike's waist, looking up at Mulder.  "Hi," 
she said, smiling flirtatiously.

"Hi.  Uh, Agent Mulder," he replied in response, offering his hand 
with a slight grin.  It was obvious that Mike had neglected to tell 
his new bride that the FBI agent he'd escorted out to the mine was a 
woman, and he decided not to remedy that oversight.

"Agent Scully," Scully added. 

Mindy looked down at her, her smile fading a little, and shook 
Scully's offered hand.  With mirth, Scully glanced up at Mulder just 
as the flight to Cabo San Lucas was being called over the 
loudspeaker.

"That's us," Mindy said, looking pointedly at Mike.  The look and 
her tone was enough for them to see who was in charge of that 
relationship.

"Yeah, okay," Mike replied.  "Agent Mulder, Agent Scully," he nodded 
to each of them, careful not to linger too long on Scully's face.  
"Nice to see you again."

"You too, Mike," Scully replied, offering Mindy another smile as the 
two of them headed for their gate.

Mulder glanced down at his partner with amusement, and she met his 
gaze.  Then she drew in a deep breath, her demeanor changing.

"Los Angeles Times Online," Mulder said, reaching down and picking 
up her laptop case.

"That's exactly what I was thinking," she replied, accepting the 
case from his hand, pulling out the computer and powering up the 
cellular modem.

After a few minutes she was connected and searching the Los Angeles 
Times database for the article about the Trona mine accident.  She 
found it, and when it came up on the screen, Mulder crouched down 
next to her, both of them scanning the paragraphs until they found 
what they had been looking for.

"There it is," Mulder said, pointing to the exact line.

"Yes, it is."  Scully answered flatly.  "Strughold Mining Company 
was contracted to seal the mine."

Mulder straightened, looking down at her as she bit the inside of 
her cheek.

"Strughold is the one we need to go after, Scully.  If Krycek is to 
be believed, he's the one behind all of it."

She let out a huff.  "After all that we've been through with Krycek, 
his believability is worn thin."

Mulder sat down in the seat next to her, stretching his legs out in 
front of him.

"Mulder, if Krycek has told anyone about your ability..."

Her eyes were wide with concern when he met her gaze, and he let out 
a soft sigh.

"I don't think he will, Scully."

"He could use it against you."

"I could use it against him."

She looked down, and he reached over and took her hand in his, 
pulling it over so that their clasped hands rested on top of his 
thigh.

"The project is finished, that much I'm sure of.  There are still 
dangerous people out there -- there always will be.  But it's our 
job, Scully, to use whatever resources we have available to us to 
stop those people from hurting innocent victims and taking more 
lives."

Scully looked up at him and let out a slow breath.  "No more running 
off in the middle of the night without telling me, Mulder."  She 
squeezed his hand tightly for emphasis.  "I want to be included, no 
matter what."

"No matter what," he promised, his eyes warm and his expression 
serious.

The announcement for their flight was called over the loudspeaker, 
and Mulder stood, pulling Scully up with him.

"Let's go home, Scully."


XxXxXxXxX Epilogue
Six months later


Scully's autopsy report on Father Ulrich Schroeder lay open on his 
desk, on the top of his current caseload pile.  Directly underneath 
were previous X Files they had investigated; Kevin Kryder, Dara 
Kernof.  Harold Spuller.  He was looking for the one thing that 
would offer the perfect explanation for what they experienced in 
that canyon in Sedona months ago. 

The autopsy report was conclusive, but the implications of that 
report could not be answered by science.  Father Ulrich Schroeder 
was dead, had been read his last rites and buried in the cold 
District of Columbia ground.

A small unmarked package inside of a padded shipper envelope arrived 
for Scully in the afternoon mail drop, and Mulder considered it 
carefully, turning it over in his hands as he sat at his desk, alone 
in the basement.  Scully wasn't there to open it, she had taken the 
day off - too much to do, she'd said.

He preferred the distraction of work, and figured he'd end up being 
a nervous annoyance to her, anyway - although his nervous energy 
manifested itself in other ways.  The ceiling was riddled with newly 
sharpened pencils and the waste can was overflowing with freshly 
wadded up balls of paper.

Along with the package for Scully there was a large envelope from 
the German Consulate, which he had opened immediately.  The contents 
from inside were also strewn across his desk.  There was a document 
called a Geburtsurkunde, which he deduced was a birth certificate; a 
Meldeschein, a census document from the City of Munich, and a few 
other documents which he couldn't pronounce, along with a receipt 
for the retrieval and photocopying charge imposed by the consulate.  
He looked the documents over once more, then he picked up the 
telephone and dialed Scully at her mother's house.

Leaning back in his chair, he placed his feet up on the desk as the 
phone rang through.  "Hey Scully, how's it going?  You need my 
help?" he asked when he heard her voice answer, slightly out of 
breath, on the other side of the line.

She let out a soft sigh.  "No, unless you want to come over and keep 
my brothers occupied.  They've been underfoot all day trying to 
be...helpful."

Mulder rolled a pencil between his fingers, his foot wagging on top 
of the desk.  "Trying or succeeding?"

She let out a huff.  "Charlie wants to move the gazebo across the 
yard.  He thinks that we're going to need more chairs."

"ARE we going to need more chairs?"

"No.  I've told him repeatedly that this is a small event but he's 
not listening.  I'm beginning to rethink your Vegas idea."  She 
paused a brief moment before adding with amusement, "How's your 
head, by the way?"

"Almost back to normal now.  What did they tell you?"

She laughed what might better be described as a giggle if it weren't 
coming from Dana Scully.  "I was there when they brought you home, 
remember?  Other than confirming that you're a lousy drunk, they've 
said nothing specific."  Her voice changed, taking on a softer tone.  
"Whatever happened, I'm glad you could all find some middle ground."

"You're the middle ground, Scully.  They love you.  We've found 
something we could all agree on."  He heard her draw in a deep 
breath through her nose and knew that tears were threatening.  "And 
you?  Did you get your millions of things done today?"

She sniffed again, and sighed.  "Only about six hundred thousand." 

"Want me to take your mind off of table assignments and party favors 
for a little while?"  She could hear his smile in his voice as he 
spoke.

"I've been tying Jordan almonds up inside of little lavender circles 
of netting until my fingers hurt, Mulder.  And I don't even LIKE 
Jordan almonds.  Any distraction is welcome at this point."  Her 
voice changed from frustrated to interested with the change of 
subject.  "You sound smug.  What have you got?"

He paused a moment for effect.  "A package of documents from the 
German Consulate pertaining to one Father Ulrich Schroeder," he 
replied, even more smug than before.

"Really?"  He heard her exhale through her nose, and imagined her 
sitting up straighter in her seat.  She probably had a good idea of 
what was in the package as she was the one who had requested the 
information from the consulate in the first place.  He was willing 
to bet she wasn't prepared to hear the results, though.

"It's all in German, but I assume that the 'Geburtsurkunde' is a 
birth certificate, right?"

"Uh huh."

"So, Ulrich Schroeder's birth mother's maiden name was Louisa 
Schroeder."

She was silent a moment.  "So, he used his mother's maiden name.  
When I petitioned the church for permission to exhume the body, 
Father Marquette indicated during our conversation that Father 
Schroeder had a special bond with his mother before she passed away.  
He probably felt that it would honor her memory to use her maiden 
name when he was ordained."

Mulder was silent, and she knew he was setting her up for bigger 
information than the fact that Ulrich was using his mother's maiden 
name.  "What?" She added, sensing the mounting drama through the 
phone line.  "Mulder, you're not going to try to tell me that the 
body I examined wasn't..."

"No!  No, your results were conclusive.  But there was something 
about his DNA that you weren't able to test, even if you'd known."  
Mulder replied.

She paused.  "Known what?"

"Ulrich Schroeder's birth father is listed as one Conrad Strughold."

"WHAT?"  Scully nearly barked into the telephone, and he heard her 
say, "No, mom, I'm fine" over her shoulder.  "Mulder," she said, her 
voice lowered, "Are you sure?"

"Yep.  Keep in mind that my German isn't as good as yours, but 
according to the heiratsker...heiratsur...

"Heiratsurkunde?"

"Yes.  According to that, Louisa Schroeder married Conrad Strughold 
in Israel in early 1960 at the tender young age of nineteen."

"Israel?"

"Yes, but Ulrich was born in Munich in December of that year.  I did 
a little checking...every marriage in Germany has to take place in a 
city hall in order to be considered official, unless it takes place 
in..."

"Israel," Scully supplied.  "This is the first solid information 
we've been able to collect on Strughold, Mulder."  Her voice grew 
softer.  "How can Father Schroeder be Strughold's son?"

This was a subject bordering on sensitivity for Mulder, having 
questioned the role his own father had played in the original 
project.  "We can't choose our relatives, Scully, but we can create 
a family of our own choosing."

His implication was clear, and she waited a moment before replying.  
"Mulder, Ulrich was murdered by a man hired by the remaining members 
of the consortium.  If Strughold IS his father..."

"As far as the official investigation goes, it doesn't change 
anything, Scully.  The case is closed.  We have no physical evidence 
linking Antonio Cardinale to the consortium, whether Strughold was 
involved or not."

The line was silent as Scully thought about what he said.   "Maybe 
the son was trying to make right the sins of the father."  She 
paused again, and it was Mulder's turn to be silent. 

He could relate to Ulrich's situation.  

"We'll find Strughold, Scully.  Someday, somehow."  His voice was 
resolute.  "Justice will be served and he will pay for his crimes."

She let out a sigh, only too familiar with dead ends and cold leads.  
"So what else have you got on Father Schroeder?"

"School records, it looks like."

There was a knock at his office door, and he looked up to see 
Skinner standing in the doorway.  "Hey Scully, before I forget, 
there's another package here for you," he told her as he waved 
Skinner inside, sitting up in his chair and taking his feet off of 
the desk.

"There is?" her voice indicated her surprise.  "Crate and Barrel or 
Pottery Barn?" she asked happily, transforming into a girl on 
Christmas morning.  Or simply a girl.

He grinned, turning the package over again.  "Neither.  And it's 
addressed to you, not the both of us."

"Oh.  Well, who's it from?"

"I don't know.  There's no return address.  It's postmarked Sedona."

He heard a soft crack, like the sound of teeth coming down on a 
candy-coated almond.  "Open it," she said, audibly chewing on 
something.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes.  But I'm warning you, if it's proof of another E.B.E..."

"I know, I know.  I have a solid appointment at one o'clock tomorrow 
afternoon and for two weeks after that and nothing is going to stop 
me from keeping it."  He heard a voice speaking in the background on 
her end and she sighed into the phone.  

"Mulder, I've gotta go.  Bill has started cleaning out Mom's 
refrigerator.  He says he wants to phone the bakery and tell them to 
have the cake ready tonight for him and Tara to pick up so we have 
one less thing to worry about tomorrow morning."

Mulder laughed.  "Alright, I'll be there in time for the rehearsal, 
ok?"

There was a crashing sound in the background, and Scully muttered, 
"Oh shit.  Make sure you're on time, Father McCue has to be back at 
the church by 8:30."  He could hear her yelling, "Bill!" as she hung 
up the phone.

Mulder replaced the receiver in the phone's cradle with a laugh.  He 
looked up at Skinner, who was standing in front of his desk, 
listening to his side of the conversation with a look of 
commiseration, having been there before.

"Is everything alright?" Skinner asked with mild concern.

"She's crazed."  He noticed that Skinner carried his satchel.  "Are 
you on your way out?"

Skinner shifted his weight, standing in 'at ease' position.  "I just 
stopped by to see if you need anything."  He pushed his glasses 
farther up his nose.  "How are you holding up?"

Mulder picked up the package addressed to Scully and twirled it 
between his fingers.  "I'm fine," he replied with a self-effacing 
grin.  "Anxious, but fine."

Skinner nodded, noting the green Mulder had worn to work in his 
complexion that morning seemed to have faded.  "You're one lucky 
bastard, you know."

Mulder nodded, his mouth set in a soft smile.  "Yeah, I know.  
You're going to have to get in the ass-kicking line, though, if you 
plan on making the 'be good to her or else' speech.  I've heard it a 
couple of times already."

"I know - I was there, remember?"

Fox Mulder in a Navy family.  God help him, or help the Scully's.  
Skinner couldn't decide.

Mulder grinned, his fingers worrying the edge of the package until 
he tore it open, and he pulled out a small white cardboard box, his 
expression clouding before he looked up briefly.  "You got 
everything?  The rings?"

Skinner's eyes showed the same amusement he'd worn the night before 
as he was reminded of the previous evening's events.  Mulder must 
have asked him about the rings fifty times at the very least.  
"They're safe in my apartment" was his standard, patient reply.

Mulder nodded and opened the small box, his mouth falling open as he 
spied the contents.

Skinner's expression changed from warm amusement to mild alarm.  
"What is it?"

Mulder held out the object with the tips of his fingers.  It was his 
grandmother's ring, the one he'd given to Scully.

"Is that the same ring she lost in the canyon?" Skinner asked, his 
eyes growing wide.

Mulder looked at it closely.  "One and the same."  His face split 
into a grin as he looked at the ring more closely.

Skinner shook his head.  "How?"

Mulder shrugged.  "Native American legend states that bad luck will 
fall on anyone who removes anything from holy ground without first 
obtaining permission.  Boynton Canyon is considered a sacred place.  
Maybe the reverse is true for something left behind."  He looked at 
his watch, then popped the ring back into the box and stuck it in 
his trousers pocket.  "I'll walk you out.  I have just enough time 
to stop by the jeweler down on the next block if I leave right now."

"You doubt its authenticity?"  Skinner asked, stepping into the 
hallway.

"No, I'm sure of it.  There's something I want to have inscribed 
inside the band before I give it to her tomorrow."

Mulder pulled his suit jacket from the coat tree near the door and 
switched off the light, looking around the office one more time.

"Two weeks in Italy and not an X File to be had," Skinner commented 
over his shoulder.  "I expect I'll see both of you back here in 
under a week."

Mulder shook his head.  "Not this time."  He meant it.  If he'd 
learned anything, it was that life is uncertain.  With everything 
that he and Scully had been through, they owed it to themselves and 
each other to grab whatever piece of joy they could latch onto and 
hold on to it as long as possible.

That included each other.

Skinner was smirking at him and he threw a look over his shoulder at 
the A.D. before closing the door behind him, grinning.  He carried 
no files out with him, no documents, just the ring in his pocket.  
Everything else would have to wait.

Come hell or Alex Krycek, Fox Mulder was going to marry Dana Scully.
 

XxXxXxXxX The End



Notes:  There are so many people without whom this story would never 
have been completed.  First and foremost, my family, who have to put 
up with me and my obsession every day.

Thanks to the readers who kept me going through the long, long, 
LOOONNNNNGG process.  And if any of you ever catch word of me, 
beduini, and WIP in the same sentence, please nip it in the bud or 
slap me upside the head with a two by four!

Kerri did the beta on the whole enchilada.  She's fabulous.  Not 
only is she accurate and thorough, but she's timely and offered 
great commentary and suggestions that helped out when my vision left 
me.  And she's a great cheerleader and friend.  Thank you, Kerri.

Pam answered my plea for information and in turn offered me a wealth 
of research that blew me away, both in its subject matter and in its 
volume.  There's a future story in there.  NOT a WIP, I say.  Pam, I 
hope you know what you're in for.  If you had HALF as much fun as I 
did going through the research, we're going to have a blast.

Marty offered many valuable suggestions in characterization, none of 
them sugarcoated.  I thank her, even if she did laugh at me when I 
was describing the finale to her over the phone.  Hmpf.

Dlynn got stuck in the nastiest, hairiest chapter full of people and 
made sense of my ambiguous pronouns.  Thanks to her we now know who 
'they' are.

And finally, thanks to the people at the Haven's fic board, who have 
kept me otherwise occupied with interesting conversation, fabulous 
reading material and wonderful support over the last several months.

So - where'd this all come from?  (I always wonder about that when I 
read a fic) - personal interest, mostly.  I don't necessarily 
practice all of the ideas I put forth in this fic, but I've studied 
the subjects for years and have always found more than a grain of 
truth in there.  Revisiting the specifics was a lot of fun.  I've 
been to most, not all of the places but I confess that the knoll in 
Boynton Canyon is no where near as large as I imply here.  Creative 
license, ok?  And Trona really does stink, in all senses of the 
word.

As for the premise, I saw the potential for a Mulder disappearance 
around the middle of Season Seven when I knew that there were 
contractual issues, and decided to write my own version of events.  
Chris Carter has done a better job - he is the master.  But writing 
this was a fun ride, nevertheless.  

On to season eight!  Bring him home, boys.

beduini2@yahoo.com

August 9, 2000