From: "Lisa R. Colodny" Date: Tue, 28 Apr 1998 19:30:44 -0400 Subject: Resubmittal Rule 17 By Lisa R Colodny The young woman pulled omnipotently on the skirt that clung seductive against her shapely hips. Her hands moved precariously around her cleavage, pushing upward producing a tighter fit of silicone against silk. She pushed a strand of bleached hair behind her ear and moved to admire her profile in the mirror. She smiled to the image she projected, swayed back and forth in a mild rocking motion, and praised, "Cindy ole girl, you still got it." She glanced hesitantly at the stack of 8 X 10 glossy photos of herself atop the dressing table; then hurriedly snatched the pen from the dresser and began inscribing the photos. She wrote basically the same generic message on every picture, "Best Wishes" or "Highest regards", and finally "Much Love, Rachaela". She had finished autographing approximately 10 or so when the phone at her bedside rang. She tossed the pen aside and answered it quickly, "Hello." Her smile widened providing a wide view of perfectly capped teeth as she recognized his voice. "Arthur," she began, "I told you already. I won't be late." She looked quickly at her diamond wrist watch and continued speaking into the phone, "Yes Arthur, I understand." She nodded and glanced again at her watch, "Arthur, you're my manager, not my date." She shook her head as if the caller could visualize her through the phone. She sipped at the flute of champagne located by the phone and added reluctantly as if bored with is conversation, "Yes, Arthur, 15 minutes." She hung the phone up and applied the last touch of mascara unto the fake eyelashes that adorned her lids. The lights in the room flashed twice and the curtain over the window blew lazily against the chair that sat nearby. She looked quickly around, concerned at first, but calmed as the curtain fell back against the window. After replacing the cap on the felt pin she used, she made her way down the stairs to the living room. She collected her purse and approached the door to exit when the sound of ice against glass, followed by liquid onto ice made her hesitate. Cautiously she approached the sounds and gasped when she saw him sitting comfortably against her sofa with glass in hand. He looked exactly as she remembered from so many years ago. Her lips came together to form his name. "Shapur.." she whispered. He drank arrogantly from the glass, swallowing the liquid slowly, never removing his gaze from her eyes. She forced her lips to smile and proceeded further into the room where he sat. She made a waving motion with her hand, the diamond ring catching the reflection from the single lamp that barely lit the darkness. "Shapur," she repeated, her voice thick with fear. A fear she tried desperately to conceal from him, but failed. Her fear stood immense between them, an unpenetratable barrier. She looked nervously at the double doors that led to the balcony where the sound of the ocean was recognizably loud and noticed the curtains that flailed helplessly wild against the entrance. Her attention returned once again to him, only to discover him standing closer by her side. His dark eyes peering directly down unto her, his breath close against her cheek. His breath was warm against her face as he whispered, "Cindy, my dear you look well, child." She smiled and corrected him, "Rachaela, remember it's Rachaela now, Mr Shapur." His smile widened and his eyes grew narrow as he replied to her knowingly, "Of course, it is dear." His eyes locked once again with hers, "The time has come, Cindy." Her eyes grew wide with terror and her lip trembled, "No," she pleaded, "Shapur, no." He tapped his finger against the gold pocket watch he'd pulled from his jacket. "Cindy, " he announced, "Your time has come." She made as if to protest but he grabbed her wrist and continued, "There can be no deviation from the arrangement. You know this to be true." He replaced the watch as she pleaded and motioned towards the open door of the balcony. As if on cue the wind roared through the living room, enveloping them both. He stepped away from the path of the wind as it enclosed around her causing her hair to fly wildly about her face. Shapur's attention turned to the painting of Rachaela that hung proudly above the mantel. The painting was truly breathtaking as if the artist had consistently captured her infinite beauty with the single strokes of the brush. The painting was huge, it was central to the entire room, demanding acknowledgment of its ageless grace and unblemished beauty. Shapur chewed lightly on the tip of his pipe he held against his lips and retreated back against the room, nearly unto the balcony, leaving a ghostly trail of smoke. Rachaela's screams rivaled the roar of the wind for superiority as it pulled possessively at her clothes and hair. Her screams climaxed as her very flesh seem to pull away from the bone, however, spilling not a drop of life's wine. The wind continued to grow in intensity, causing chairs and accessories to pass idly by the woman as she fought against the turmoil. Shapur nodded to her as he exited the room to disappear into the night's darkness. Her form was barely visible on the floor as the wind completely engulfed her, silencing her screams for all eternity. In addition the canvas' paint began to swirl in similar fashion as if mimicking the force of the wind. The wind attacked the canvas, pushing the aged paints around and around. As the wind died down, the resulting painting was somewhat modified. In the aftermath the painting seemed to have "aged." Infact the woman no longer resembled Rachaela at all. The woman in this painting appeared to be in her seventies. Her hair thin and graying. The previously solid, voluptuous figure, now wrinkled, dry, and less clearly defined. Her eyes seemed different, too. Their attention focused on the brazen medallion that hung close against her neck. The eyes locked in terror upon the medallion's design, a figure closely resembling the mathematical infinity sign. The old woman's sad eyes looked as if she were in pain. They seemed to cry out for help. But tonight, there would be no relief for her. Shapur had made it so. J.F. Hoover Building X files Office 2 weeks later 3PM Fox Mulder glanced anxiously over to his partner's desk, again. He sighed and chewed his bottom lip; working up the courage to address her. Dana Scully went on working even though she knew he was looking in her direction, again. He pretended to read a case file, alternating glances between the case file and his partner. Finally she could take no more and asked, "Mulder, What are you doing?" He smiled sheepishly, "Just wondering." She pulled the glasses off her nose, rubbed the bridge where the glasses were irritating the pale skin, and replied, "About?" He closed the file and answered, "About you, wondering if you're okay? How you're feeling?" "I'm fine, Mulder." He nodded, replying only with the persistent blinking of his hazel eyes. She went back to the file, but was distracted by his continued gaze. "Mulder," she pleaded, "You promised." She gathered the files scattered on the desk and continued, "I want.." She hesitated, rethinking her selection of words carefully, "I need for things to continue normally, just like before we knew about the cancer." Before she even realized it, he was at her side, prohibiting her from stuffing the files into her briefcase. "Scully, we can't pretend that we don't know about the cancer." He rubbed her cheek with the back of his hand, "I worry about you." She sighed and pulled his hand away, "I know but Mulder.." She hesitated again and attempted to conceal the tremble in her voice, "I'm counting on you to hold me together." They stood in silence, hands barely touching as the ringing of the phone made them both jump. Mulder answered it on the second ring, his eyes revealing surprise at the caller's identity. He hesitated momentarily then handed her the phone. She looked questionably at him as he left the office without saying a word, closing the door softly behind him. "Scully," she announced into the phone. She shut her eyes, swallowed the lump that had formed in her throat, and bit her bottom lip as she recognized his voice. "Dana?" the caller inquired. Calmly she answered, "What do you want?" The caller replied, "Please Dana, let me explain. I..." She interrupted him, "No Agent Gates, there's nothing you need to explain. Please don't call here again." With no further conversation she hung up the phone, collected her things, and left the office. Dana Scully's apartment 8PM Her thoughts were interrupted by the ringing of the phone. She pulled herself up from the embrace of the couch, tossing the afghan to the floor as consequence. She hesitantly picked it up and spoke warningly into the receiver, "What." Mulder's replied cautiously, "Scully?" She smiled into the phone and adjusted her nightshirt comfortably over her hips, "Hi Mulder, what's up?" He relaxed into the conversation, "I was about to ask you the same question. What's going on?" She shook her head as if he could see her, swallowed slowly closing her eyes in conjunction, and replied, "Mulder, I don't want to get into this with you. It's private." He paused, considering his reply carefully, "I'm your friend, Scully, as well as your partner." She waited, giving him no reply. He continued, "Anything going on in your head concerns me. My life may depend on your ability to react to the situation." He paused, then added, "I gotta know where your head is at." She answered, "I'm fine, Mulder. You need not worry about me, physically or emotionally." He ignored her statement, "Are you gonna talk to him?" She replied calmly, "It's none of your business, Mulder. Leave it alone." "Scully.." he began. "Mulder," she interrupted, her voice rising with agitation, "This isn't about your welfare. Like always I will be there for your when I need to be. Be it mentally or physically." He interjected, his voice teasing her seductively, "Physically? Physically? Define physically." She couldn't help but to laugh. However, she attempted to keep her tone disciplinary, "Mulder, please. Listen to me. You are overreacting as usual." He paused momentarily, "You have to talk to him. At least hear what he has to say.' She asked defensively, "Since when are you his allie? You don't even like him." He replied, "That's not the issue. I know how much he means.." "Meant, Mulder. Past tense, meant," she announced. He conceded to her, his voice softening, "Dana, you were contemplating marrying him." Spoke barely above whisper, "Mulder, he left nearly 3 months ago. I still don't know why." His voice continued to be soft and gentle, "Maybe he just needs to tell you why then." She shook her head, "Nothing he says will make any difference, Mulder. Nothing." He paused, selecting his words carefully, "Then what do you have to lose?" He added quickly, "Hear him out. Just once, Scully. Then maybe you'll know why he left." There was silence between them. He added quickly, "Then I'll kick his ass for you." She smiled into the phone, fighting to keep her tears in check, "Good night Mulder. And thanks." He knew she was crying so he said simply, `Goodnight Dana." FBI Building Next morning 8AM Mulder opened the door to his basement office and to his surprise found his partner already there. He paused at first, then proceeded quickly inside once he noticed the dark circles under her eyes. He pushed the slide carousal into the projector and flipped the lights off as he fell into his seat. Her attention focused on the image of the body before her. He looked to be in his fifties. The body was face down on what looked to be the floor of someone's bedroom. He had thick white hair combed neatly to the sides. His suit appeared to be an expensive, tailor cut pinstripe, probably European, Scully noted. Mulder informed her that the body of Drake Franklin was found early last week by his housekeeper during her weekly cleaning visit. Mulder handed her the file and flipped to another picture. This one was taken before his death. And as Scully had imagined he was nice looking for an older man. He had intense green eyes, his skin tanned an almost olive like color. He had dark eyebrows that seemed out of place against the white of his hair. She looked quickly at the file and then to Mulder, "What happened? How did he die?" Mulder snapped the lights on and leaned against his desk, "Police aren't sure, but they think maybe a bungled burglary attempt." "So Mulder," how is this an X file?" she asked. He smiled, "Well, with this alone. I wouldn't have even considered taking it. But you see Skinner got a call from a friend of Mr. Franklin. His name is Ian Wilmought. He insists that Franklin knew he was going to die. In fact Wilmought claims that Franklin was so sure he put all his matters in order." She flipped through the pages, the question weighing heavy on her mind, "Was he sick?" Mulder shook his head, "No, last physical was 2 months ago. He was fit as the legendary fiddle." She pointed to a line in the file, "He was a coin collector?" Mulder smiled and tossed a sunflower seed into his mouth, "No actually, he was a gambler by trade. Coin collecting was purely a hobby." She smiled, "I guess being a collector of rare coins is also more socially acceptable than being a gambler." Mulder nodded, "It would seem so." He flipped the projector back on to reveal a closer image of the picture he'd began with. He approached the image and pointed to a small gold coin nearly touching Franklin's hand. He looked quickly to her, "You know what that is?" She looked closely, "Looks like the infinity sign?" Mulder nodded and produced the coin, enclosed in a small clear evidence bag from his jacket. She took it from him and immediately noticed how heavy it was. "Is this pure gold?" she asked. He nodded, "Not only is it pure gold, Scully. The lab says it is very old. In fact that coin is older than your great grandfather." She smiled and handed it back to him, "Any idea what it means?' "It has many meanings in many different cultures. Some believe it symbolizes the opposing forces of good versus evil. Others." She interrupted, "Mulder, I know what it means historically. I meant why he would die clutching this coin." "And," Mulder added, "Why would any respectable burglar leave something like this behind?" She closed the file and asked "What time are we leaving?" He turned of the projector," We leave at noon for Waukeshaw, Nevada." Their attention turned to a light tap at the door, which subsequently opened as a result. Mulder was not surprised to see Agent Gates stepping solemnly into the room. Scully looked quickly from Mulder to Gates then asked, "What are you doing here?" Mulder grabbed his jacket and walked quickly towards the door to afford them some privacy. "Mulder, "she exclaimed, "you don't have to leave. Agent Gates won't be here very long." Mulder nodded, "I need to see Skinner before we head out. I won't be too long or very far away." He looked warningly to Gates as he closed the office door. She shook her head as Mulder closed the door, shrugged into the nearby chair, and indicated towards Mulder's empty chair "Have a seat Agent Gates. Say what you came to say and then please leave me alone." Her voice cracked as she finished the last of her sentence. She bit her bottom lip and looked wearily to him, "Why are you here?" He looked awkwardly around the room, focusing anywhere but her face. "Dana.." he began. She interrupted him, " Don't call me that. " He looked confused, "Call you what?" "Dana," she answered. "What should I call you, then?" he asked softly. "Agent Scully, " she answered, "you should call me Agent Scully." He nodded, "I know I hurt you and you have every right to be angry. But." She interrupted him again, "I am not angry at you anymore. I was at first, but not now. Being angry or mad implies that there are feelings. I have no feelings for or about you, either way." She stood and walked towards the door. Opening it she indicated, "So if that's all you're worried about. You needn't." He walked towards the door, but closed it tightly instead, "I came to tell you that I tried to forget about you, but I can't." He walked closer to her and she retreated backward, putting her desk between them. He went on, "I got this assignment about 3 months ago. It was highly confidential. This was a case that could make or break my career. I couldn't turn it down and I needed some time to think." She nodded, but gave no reply. The tears were welling up against her lids. She swallowed and closed her eyes as if shear will could command the tears to stay idle. She failed, as the tears began to fall down her cheeks. She whispered, "Please, just go." Before she could retreat, he was around the desk, pulling her by the shoulders towards him. He pulled her close and stooped down eye level with her. "Dana, "he pleaded, "I am so sorry. I never meant to hurt you." She pulled away, the tears falling freely now, "I asked you not to call me that." He paused, searching her eyes for any sign that he was getting through, "I got scared, Dana. You became so much to me so quickly. I couldn't breathe. I panicked. I am so sorry." With her back to him she asked him through her tears, "How could you just leave, like that?" She wiped the last of her tears away and turned to face him, "You asked me to marry you. Did you forget about that, too?" He nodded, "I meant every thing I said to you. I still do. Please, Dana. Forgive me." She swallowed the last of her emotions and replied in a controlled tone, "I don't know that I can. I don't know how to trust you ever again." He approached her again; but she held her arm out in front of her, "No, I need to think about this. I need some time to decide how I feel." He nodded and made his way to the door, "Okay, I'll give you some time." She nodded and remained with her back to the door as he closed it softly behind him. Waukeshaw, Nevada 3PM Mulder pulled the rental car into the parking lot of the Waukeshaw Inn and nudged his sleeping partner. She awoke quickly with a start then smiled sheepishly to him, "Sorry," she mumbled. He smiled and pulled their luggage from the trunk. Just as they reached the door, Scully's hand flew up to her left nostril hurriedly and wiped anxiously at the blood that ran down to her lip. Mulder handed her a handkerchief and pulled her over to the sidewalk, "Scully, why don't you get some rest. I can interview Mr Wilmought on my own." She shook her head, dabbing persistently at her nose, "Mulder, it's a nosebleed. I'm fine." He shrugged his shoulders, "No, you're not fine. You need to rest, just for a while. I'll.." She pulled away from his grasp, "I said I'm fine. I'm not staying here." Once said she marched into the Inn and waited for him at the desk. Mulder drove silently, stealing worried glances in Scully's direction, as they drove through Waukeshaw. As they came to a nice suburban area, she asked, "What's the number we're looking for?" He answered her as he checked the folder once again, "Roselin Acres, 51 Roselin Acres." She pointed to a small ranch off to her right, "There, " she indicated. He nodded and directed the car towards the ranch. The interview with Ian Wilmought did not take very long at all. He was a nervous little man. Slightly over weight with a round rosy cheeks that made both agents think instantly of Santa Claus minus the red suit and reindeer. He chewed insistently on the skin under his thumb nail, "He knew it. I tell you. Drake knew his days were numbered." Wilmought looked achingly at Scully, his eyes moving slowly up and down her form. Mulder positioned himself closer to Wilmought, blocking most of his leer, while Scully continued making notes in her book. "Mr. Wilmought," Mulder asked, "Why do you say that?" Wilmought forced his hand through the graying brown hair that hung shaggily around his neck and answered, "Ever since that movie star friend of his died he was acting like a fool. Kept raving on about the deal he made and how the time had come to pay his dues." "What kind of deal?" Scully asked looking up from her notebook for probably the first time. Wilmought smiled a toothy grin to her, enhancing the Santa resemblance even more, "I dunno. He never said exactly. Just that he made a deal and according to some stupid rule, now it was his time to die, just like his friend." Mulder looked quickly to Scully, "Who was his friend?" Wilmought smiled and began the leering ritual again, "You know that Hollywood star, Racheala?" Both agents nodded that they did, Wilmought continued, "Her and Drake knew each other." Scully inquired, "Knew each other in the biblical sense?" Wilmought shook his head, "No, not like that I don't think. Drake wasn't the most honoable man around. If they were involved like that, I'm sure he would have bragged. I meant that they were friends, had been for a long time." Mulder smiled, "Mr Wilmought, how old do you think Drake Franklin was?" Wilmought answered, "We celebrated his 59th birthday last month." Scully nodded, "Rachaela couldn't have been more than 25 when she died. How long are we talking?" Wilmought shrugged his shoulders, "I don't know, but Drake talked like they'd known her a long time." Scully folded her notebook closed and slid it into her pocket, "How do you think Drake Franklin died, Mr Wilmought?" He nodded, "Well, I don't think it was a break in. Most burglars tend to steal something and Drake had lots to steal." "So?" Mulder added, "What do you think happened to him?" "Agent Mulder,' he answered, "Drake dealt with a lot of angry people. He made his money on other people's loses. I think somebody lost more than they had to lose and settled the bill, permanently." "Did Franklin owe anyone?" Scully asked. Wilmought smiled, "Everybody in this town owes somebody something, Miss Scully." He motioned towards her, "Everyone has something to lose." He paused, then went on, "I heard once that Drake was familiar with a certain mobster's wife. Maybe the husband found out. " He looked impatiently to Mulder, "Who can say?" Scully thrust her hands into the pocket of her trench coat and stiffened, "Thank you for your time, Mr Wilmought." She turned and walked slowly towards there rental car. Mulder nodded to him as well, then walked quickly to catch up with her. Waukeshaw Inn 7PM "What do you think about Wilmought's story?" he asked. She took a sip of her tea and pushed her salad platter away, "I think he hit it pretty close, Mulder. Franklin was a gambler. He made lots of enemies, looks like one of them got even." Mulder stuffed a french fry into his mouth, "What about his association with this starlet who also recently died." She pointed to her lap top, "I requested the case file from the LAPD. Soon as it comes, I'll down load it and we can look her case over as well." He nodded and sipped his own tea, "Scully, I know you and Gates talked.." "Mulder, I already told you that I don't want to talk about it." He pushed his feet up under his legs and pushed himself closer towards her, "I know, but I'm curious.." She sighed, "He claims to have experienced a severe panic attack when faced with the concept of spending the rest of his life with me." Mulder smiled and nodded, "Did he indicate this fear was of you specifically or was he referring to just any one single woman? " She arched a copper eyebrow, "Is there a difference?" He swallowed hard, his fear building as he answered, "Scully, I know you're still hurting, but what he's saying maybe does make some sense." She added, "Only to another single man." He smiled and nodded, "What I mean is, I sort of can relate to what he experienced. In a way I understand." She looked up to him with a hurt expression, "Mulder, he left with no explanation at all. He's been gone nearly 3 months." She rose, tossed her dinner into the trash, and headed for the door; pausing before she opened it. Her voice was low, she answered without turning to face him, "I made love to him, I let him make love to me." She opened the door and exited adding as she closed the door, "It meant everything to me, Mulder. I thought it meant something to him as well." She closed the door. Mulder sat still listening to the click of her heels against the floor. He waited until he heard her door close and the snap of the deadbolt before he rose and changed into more comfortable clothes. About an hour had passed when she heard the soft rapping at her door, "Scully, it's me." She pulled the robe tight around her body and let him in. He handed her a canned soda and her laptop as he entered the room noticing immediately the redness and swelling around her eyes, "Wanna see if we got anything on Racheala yet?" She smiled and booted up her laptop, "Sure, let's see what the LAPD has on the case." Minutes later she looked up from the laptop screen with a confused expression that Mulder wasn't used to seeing on her face. "Mulder," she exclaimed, "This doesn't make any sense. Someone has messed up this report." He plopped down beside her causing her soda to topple over, "Why? What does it say?" She handed him a recent photograph of Racheala, "According to the police, this woman is over 60 years old." Mulder smiled, "Oh if only Mom looked this good, Scully." He flipped the picture over to inspect for a date. It was dated December 1996. He went on, "Scully, this girl in this picture can't be more than 25 years old. Are you sure we are talking about the same woman?" Scully nodded, "According to the LAPD, this actress Rachaela was born in the 1930's. Her real name was Cindy Hind. She was born in Cincinnati Ohio, an only child. Both her parents died in the mid 50's. She was married about this same time to a man named Sheridan LeFanu. They relocated to Ruwa, South Africa where he established a settlement known as POPT. This stands for Patrons of Power & Truth. LeFanu died from jungle fever the early 60's. They had no known children" Mulder picked up the telephone, she looked to him curiously. He replied, "Making us reservations to LA for tomorrow." She nodded and collected her notes. Skinner's Office Washington DC Later that night The older man blew the smoke from his cigarette towards the assistant director with an arrogance renewed. Skinner waved the smoke away from his face impatiently. He pulled his wire glasses off his nose and looked the cigarette smoking man in the eye, "I thought we had an agreement." The CSM inhaled another deep breath but blew it to his right this time before he replied, "We do, Mr Skinner. But a miracle takes time, even for me." Skinner pushed the glasses back on his nose and answered with restrained anger, "I did what you asked. I intercepted the sergeant from flight 549..." The CSM interrupted, "We would have gotten him anyway, you merely hastened the inevitable." He crushed out the cigarette and rose to face Skinner, "You really haven't done anything to cement me into our arrangement." This time it was Skinner that interrupted, "I'm sure Agent Pendrell's family and Nathaniel Teager's widow would beg to differ with you on that declaration." His jaw tightened as he spoke, "Agent Scully's condition is getting worse. Her bleeding is more frequent." The CSM walked triumphantly to the office door and motioned with his hand, "I'll be in touch." He left with nothing else to offer. He walked quietly down the hall and to the elevator, checking his side for the gun he seldom ever used. The garage was dark as he made his way towards the dark blue car parked in the reserved section. He had just opened the door and prepared to climb in when a voice in the darkness stated, "We need to talk." The CSM pulled himself back up and encountered the figure obscured by darkness, only the heat of his breath visible from behind the concrete column. The CSM lighted yet another cigarette and blew the smoke into the darkness, "We have an agreement, Christopher. You continue to perform as instructed and I'll see that Agent Scully lives a long and prosperous life." Chris stepped from the darkness and pulled his leather jacket closer around himself, "I came back, Father, as agreed." He pulled the cigarette from his father's hand and tossed it to the concrete floor; he paused before he smashed it out against the ground. His eyes met his father's, "Nothing productive can result from her death. You said so yourself." The CSM moved closer and placed his hands on Gates' shoulders pulling him closer, almost eye to eye. He patted his shoulder as if he were a child, "Christopher, as always you surprise me." Gates flinched but said nothing letting the CSM continue, "You feelings for her are unexpected, understandable but unfortunate." Gates interrupted, "Sir, It's you who has misunderstood." He snatched the cigarette from his father's hand and lit it, exhaling deep breaths of smoke into the space around his father's face. "If I end up with Dana after this assignment, that's terrific. However, my place in the organization remains my first priority. Dana is a bonus, a fringe benefit, per se." He took a few more puffs from the cigarette, before tossing in to the ground and crushing it out with the heel of his boot. CSM motioned with his hand for the younger man to be silent, Chris obeyed as CSM continued, "It is obvious you have feelings for her. You need not deny it. Be it physical or emotional, your feelings betray you, son." Gates stood proudly expressing no emotion, "No, my feelings for her are more of a physical nature. Fortunately, she has been very responsive. The relationship will continue as before, I'm sure of it." Gates looked nervously around him, "What is the next step?" The CSM smiled, "We think Agent Scully needs something to occupy her time other than the X Files." He anxiously lit another cigarette, "We have decided it's time Agent Scully became a mother. A baby would change her perspective, she should be easier to manipulate." Gates shook his head and thrust his hands deeper into his jacket pockets, "I thought that wasn't a possibility after the abduction. You said I didn't need to worry about that and I haven't been." CSM handed him a plastic packet containing 28 tiny pills of differing colors. "Agent Scully isn't aware of her infertility so I am only assuming she is acting wisely and taking precautions." He crushed out the cigarette, "You need only to replace her birth control pills with these. I hear these little pills can produce a miracle in about 9 months under ideal situations." Gates shrugged, "Is there really a purpose in you being a grandfather?" The CSM smiled, "No, actually the ideal of being the father is much more appealing to me. Perhaps if I was 20 years younger, I'd have taken the assignment myself." Gates shook his head, "You've never let your conscience affect you before. I can't see it affecting you now. If you truly wanted Agent Scully's `company', I'm sure you would have obtained it by now." He paused as if unsure he should ask the question, "I heard a rumor that you became very acquainted with her during her abduction." The CSM nodded and smiled to him as he turned and walked back towards his car. Gates blew a heavy breath and walked back into the darkness. The CSM watched as his son disappeared into the darkness, then climbed into the car and drove into the blackness of night. LAPD 7AM Scully followed the officer into the autopsy bay and motioned for Mulder to join her. The corpse of Rachaela was indeed at least 60 years old. She bared only a slight resembled to the young woman in the photograph Mulder held in his hand. Scully picked up the scalpel and motioned to the assisting medical examiner that she was ready. Mulder quickly excused himself and disappeared behind the safety of the waiting room wall. Nearly 3 hours had passed when she emerged from the laboratory. She looked tired as she pulled the surgical mask from around her neck She handed Mulder the file folder and disappeared to change back into her own clothes. She accepted the coffee he handed her graciously and began, "Mulder, she died of old age. Nothing more and nothing less. The body is that of a female Caucasian, approximately 60 years of age. To be honest I am sort of surprised that she expired because she was the healthiest 60 year old patient I have ever seen." Scully took the folder from him and continued as he followed her out the door, "No heart disease, no respiratory disease, nothing. She simply died." Mulder nodded and opened the door for her. She climbed into the car and asked, "Mulder, why aren't you saying anything. I just told you that this death isn't an X File." She looked around as the car began to move, "And where are we going?" He smiled, "Let's take a look at where this extremely healthy 60 year old female expired, shall we?" He made an I told you so look to her and added, "Did I mention that this 60 year old female was recently voted the second most sexy woman in the world?" Scully smiled, "Who was voted number 1?" Mulder shrugged his shoulders, "Dunno, some redheaded forensic pathologist on TV. Can't remember her name." The drive to Rachaela's house took about 45 minutes in the LA traffic. It was a luxurious ocean front home with high security walls and closed circuit television cameras everywhere. After producing identification, they were allowed up to the main house. Almost immediately Mulder was drawn to the multitude of photographs covering the entire estate. He examined them one by one, calling for Scully to join him downstairs. He heard the clicking of her heels long before she appeared in the down stairs room, "Look" he motioned, "all of these pictures are of a young Rachaela, except for this one." He indicated to the massive oil painting that adorned the living room. She nodded, "That's odd, Mulder. But it doesn't mean the pictures are all of the same person." She indicated to the oil painting, "That is the woman I performed an autopsy on this morning." She took one of the pictures from Mulder of a much younger Rachaela, "This could be her granddaughter." She looked to put the picture back when her attention jumped quickly back up to the oil painting of the older woman. She moved in for a closer look, "Mulder," she pointed to the medallion around the woman's neck, "Isn't that the same design as we saw on the coin?" Mulder pushed close against her, "Yeah, I think it is. The infinity sign again." Scully's phone interrupted their conversation. She slid her phone back into her pocket and informed Mulder, "That was the toxicology on Rachaela / Cindy, or whoever. At least I can give you a cause of death now." She had his attention, "She died of an overdose, Mulder. Her blood alcohol was 3 times the limit required to be considered drunk. The test was also positive for 2 different types of benzodiazepines as well as marijuana." She folded the file closed, "Her central nervous system shut down, Mulder. She over dosed." He shook his head, "But that doesn't explain the age thing, Scully." She pulled him towards the door, "It's not her, Mulder. These pictures have to be of a granddaughter, Mulder." He touched the file folder, "She had no children, Scully. You said so yourself." "A niece, then, Mulder. Some relative who happens to look a lot like she did when she was younger." He looked at her skeptically. She smiled to him and continued, "Remind me to show you a picture of my grandmother sometime, Mulder. I look almost identical to her when she was younger." They arrived back at the hotel in record speed. After enjoying a quick lunch, Mulder excused himself to make some calls after suggesting to Scully that she take nap for an hour or so. She nodded to him as he left and looked awkwardly down at the bloodied Kleenex she'd hidden from him during their examination of Cindy Hind's house. Maybe a short nap would do her some good. She collected her things and walked quietly to her room. She didn't realize how long she'd slept until Mulder's banging on the door awoke her with a start. She answered the door awkwardly, realizing she'd slept in her skirt and jacket. They were rumbled and worn. He assessed quickly from her appearance that she'd been sleeping and was both anxious and relieved at the same time. He pushed into her room, "I've got something." She smiled and moved to the closet, pulling out a fresh, wrinkle free set of clothes. He made himself comfortable on the bed while she disappeared into the bathroom. She asked him through the open door, "What did you find?" Mulder answered her over the sound of zipping and unzipping, "Drake Franklin was also a founding member of POPT. It seems Franklin, Cindy Hind, Sheridan LeFanu, and another man all lived in Ruwa together during this period of time. They all lived there together for nearly 3 years." She reappeared in the room dressed in a beige pantsuit. She moved closer to him, "Why did they leave?" "LeFanu died of jungle fever. The group separated then. As far as I know, they never saw each other again," he informed her. She smiled, "So much for the power of truth." As a second thought she added, "Do we have an identification on the 4th person?" Mulder smiled, "Senator Jeff Boltwood of Pennsylvania." Warmuster, Pennsylvania Boltwood Residence Senator Jeff Boltwood looked around worriedly. He wiped again at the persistent sheen of sweat that ran down his forehead, into his eyes, making his vision blur. He pulled open the desk of his drawer and checked again, the gun was still there, loaded and ready for him, whenever he came.He pressed the button his phone and announced, "Douglas, I need you a second, please." The senator's aide appeared obediently, "Sir, what is it you need?" Boltwood took a long sip of vodka from his glass and replied, "I need you to contact someone for me. The name and address is here on this paper." He made as if to hand the paper to the aide but pulled it back possessively, "You speak only to him or his partner. No one else, you understand?" The man nodded and looked to the half empty bottle of liquor, "Sir, are you all right? Perhaps I should take this." He made as if to remove the bottle from the senator's desk, but the senator spoke out, "No, John, leave it." The senator then handed him a manila envelope, "John, if anything should happen to me. You see that this package gets to the man or his partner at the address I gave you." The aide moved closer, "Senator Boltwood, if you're in some sort of trouble, please. Let me help." The senator shook his head, "Mr Douglas, you have been a good aide. And John you have also been a good friend. If I were to tell you the story of that package, you'd think I'd lost my mind." He took another sip from the glass and whispered, "Maybe I did lose my mind back then. Maybe we all did." He motioned for the aide to leave. Once the aide had left, the senator poured another drink and checked the drawer for the gun again. 9AM Next Day Mulder pulled the rental car into a parking spot next to Boltwood's black Mercedes. He indicated towards the light blue Porsche parked close by, "The politics of business bust be booming, Uh?" Scully smiled and nodded. They walked quietly up the steps and tapped loudly on the door. Mulder pulled his sunglasses down and looked over his shoulder towards the estate grounds. Scully joined him in the inspection and nodded, "It's sort of strange that we, complete strangers, can just walk up to the residence of a US senator and not be intercepted." She looked to her partner, "Don't you think?" He nodded but didn't seem to be listening. His attention was focused on the black rod iron gate that surrounded the Senator's compound. He pointed to the twisted metal that lined the top of the gate and asked, "Look familiar?" She shook her head, "I never realized the infinity symbol was so common." He smiled, "Me neither." Suddenly feeling very unnerved he cautiously checked the gun at his side. Before he could prepare any more, the large wooden door crept slowly open and revealed a thin, elderly man with gray thinning hair dressed in a formal black & white suit. He smiled, stepped aside, and indicated for them to enter. Mulder went for his badge, but a stern voice from above made both the agents turn and look upward towards the second level where Senator Boltwood was mounted at the top of the stairs, "There's no need for identification, Agent Mulder." He took a long drink from glass and indicated that they should join him, "Please Agent Scully, Agent Mulder, be my guests." The agents conformed and curiously made their way up the stairs. Mulder glanced quickly at his partner then to the senator, "Kinda early for vodka, Senator Boltwood. Rough day already?" The Senator laughed and clumsily made his way into his den. He barely managed to fall into the chair even after being aimed in the right direction by Mulder. Scully pushed her hands deep into her pockets, surveyed the room inconspicuously, and asked, "Senator Boltwood, how did you know we were coming?" He slurped down the remainder of the glass and poured himself another glassful, after offering the bottle up to Scully. He smiled to her and licked his lips, "Of course I knew you were coming I sent for you." Mulder shook his head, "No sir, we came to ask you some questions about the deaths of Cindy Hind & Drake Franklin. I believe you knew them both." Boltwood nodded and wiped his hand through his hair making it stick up awkwardly in front. He swallowed and sipped nervously at his drink. Finally he shook his head, "I knew them, we were friends a long time ago." Mulder asked quickly, "How long ago?" Boltwood smiled to Mulder as if they shared a secret, "A long, long time ago." Scully pulled the glass from the senator's hand, "Senator, we need to ask you some questions. You need to be cognitive." He pulled closer to her, so close that she withdrew as the smell of alcohol made her instantly nauseated. He examined her suggestively, "I've spent the last 30 years slightly uncognitive and produced some of my best work." She nodded, "Do tell." Mulder smiled to her and intervened, "Senator Boltwood, please, focus on the questions." Boltwood looked longingly at the bottle Scully had placed on the desk, "We lived together in 1933. Franklin and I knew Sheridan. The 3 of us grew up together as boys. We were all dirt poor with empty pockets and fancy dreams." He smiled nostalgically, his mind lost somewhere in the past as he continued, "In 1933 Franklin and I went to Ruwa to join Sheridan. He had been there a little over a year. He believed he'd found salvation for us all." Scully asked, "Salvation?" Boltwood nodded, "Sheridan discovered the path into his own soul. A path defined by his wildest dreams and his most sacred desires obtainable, within his grasp, a mere touch away." Mulder put in, "Lotto?" Boltwood ignored him, "When Franklin and I got there in 33, Sheridan and his girlfriend, Cindy, were deeply entwined in Shapur's way of life." "Shapur?" Mulder repeated, "Is this a religion." "No, Shapur is a man, or so he said he was. Personally, I'd call him a demon" Boltwood made his way to the desk and retrieved the bottle, filling his glass without even looking to Scully. He continued, "Of course, back then I believed him to be just a man. Now, I know I could not have been more wrong." Scully breathed a sigh of impatience, "Senator Boltwood, you aren't making any sense, Sir." He laughed, a loud insanely laugh that echoed throughout the estate, "Your right, Agent Scully, none of this makes any sense. But, it is the truth so help me God." "Go on, Senator," Mulder urged. "Shapur promised us the riches, any dream fulfilled. We followed him just like the proverbial lambs." He drank greedily again, "I can but hope my slaughter comes as painlessly." Scully cleared her throat indicating that she was tiring of the game. The Senator went on, "We made deals with Shapur. Riches, Fame, power beyond belief, all for the price of one's soul." He looked quickly to Scully as if registering her doubt, "You don't believe, Agent Scully. Neither did I until I read about their deaths." He paused, "We thought we could take his riches and laugh at his promise. Somehow, I believe it is Shapur who is laughing now." "Tell us about the deal, Senator," Mulder demanded. The senator leaned on the desk for support, "Quite simple really, Cindy wanted eternal beauty bound in youth, Franklin wanted money, and me. I wanted power." "What about Sheridan LeFanu? What did he want and how come he died?" Senator Boltwood shook his head, "Sheridan thought he wanted immortality. Until he found out that immortality would cost him Cindy." Mulder interjected, "This Shapur person wanted Rachaela, er.. Cindy?" Boltwood nodded, "Yes, the price for Sheridan's immortality was Cindy. Shapur was a dreadful man. He seemed to take pleasure in tormenting Sheridan." Boltwood spoke quietly as he added, "He likes torturing us all." It was Scully's time to decipher, "So Sheridan refused to share his girlfriend. What happened?" Boltwood continued speaking in a slow, quiet methodology, "Sheridan loved her very much. There was no way in hell he'd agreed to it. He died the next morning. The doctor said it was jungle fever. But Sheridan wasn't even sick. Franklin found him dead in bed the next morning." Scully continued, "Then what?" Boltwood answered, looking straight into her crystal eyes, "Shapur announced that same morning that he wanted our answers to his proposed `deal' ". He emptied his glass, "We were so afraid, we agreed. Each of us would get our wish and then at some undetermined time Shapur would come and reclaim the debt." Boltwood looked anxiously out the window, "The time has come. Shapur is here, now." Same Afternoon Waukeshaw Inn Mulder hung up the phone and announced to her, "I have made arrangements to take Senator Boltwood into protective custody." He tore excitedly into the package just delivered to his door and continued, "There is a US Marshal on his way to the estate now. He will stay with the senator until we get back there." "Mulder," she exclaimed, "You don't believe that story?" He looked sheepishly to her, "Well, I find it intriguing. There are some aspects of it I am not quite clear on, but I want to investigate some of the things he told us." "You really believe these people made a deal with this devil figure Shapur and now their markers are being called in? Mulder, please." He moved quickly to where she sat and pointed excitedly, "Scully, How can you explain Cindy Hind's well preserved body?" She stood up and pulled her suit jacket off, "I don't believe the pictures in the mansion and that body are the same person. That old woman died of a drug overdose, Mulder. Her toxicology results were positive for alcohol, sedatives, and marijuana." She handed him the folder with Drake Franklin's picture on top. "He was a gambler, Mulder. And gambler's make lots of enemies. I don't suppose he is the first Vegas gambler to die under mysterious circumstances. It happens in this arena every day." Mulder finished off his ice tea and asked, "What about the Senator's story?" She smiled, "He's had a lot to drink. He is obviously upset over the deaths of his friends. I don't doubt that they all lived happily together in Ruwa until this Shapur person rocked the boat. But I don't believe that 60 years later Mr Shapur is able to go around and kill off his former friends over some love lorn fall out." She disappeared into the restroom and returned wiping her face with a hand towel to find Mulder studying his package carefully. She nudged him. "What? What is it?" He smiled, "Cindy did only one movie before she became `Rachaela'. It is odd because most movie critics do not even consider her an actress because she performs so very little. She is simply a star with no explanation." He looked to her awaiting a reply. She said simply, "One word, Mulder. Madonna." He smiled but went on, "Franklin Drake was so broke at one time he was living in a shelter. Then suddenly he collected on a series of long shots and when he died he was one of the richest men in the country." "Mulder, "she stressed his name out, "That is life in Vegas. That's why they call it lady luck." He continued reading the file, "Did you know that Senator Boltwood won his very first campaign. He has been serving as Senator ever since. Scully, the man has never lost any election, big or small, ever." She countered, "If he had this power, Mulder, why isn't he president. Wouldn't you think the ultimate power trip to be holding the office of president of the United States?" Mulder laughed, "I was thinking more along the lines of President of the Adult Video Association." She punched him in the arm, "I'm serious." He leered, "So am I. Where do you suppose this Shapur guy lives? I might need to make a deal." The telephone brought them to a halt. Mulder smiled and handed her the phone. He cupped his hand over the phone and informed her, "It's Gates." "Hello," she said flatly. "Dana," he began, "I was hoping I could see you tonight. I've taken the liberty of booking a flight out this afternoon. I just want to talk." "I'm working, here," she announced. "I know, but I was thinking maybe just to get a bite to eat or something, even just coffee," he replied. She hesitated, her thoughts clashing wildly, biting her bottom lip she said, "All right, call when you get into town." His voice revealed his spirit was high, "Great." She warned, "This doesn't mean that I've changed my mind. I'm just willing to listen, that's all." "That's more than I'd hoped for," he answered. She had hung the phone up and turned to Mulder when she felt the familiar stream escaping from her nose. "Dam," she screamed while running into the restroom and slamming the door behind her. As Mulder neared to knock, he heard the soft gasps of her crying and hesitated. He waited a few minutes, then on the door tapped, "Scully, you okay?" She appeared in the doorway, "Fine, just a nosebleed." He caressed her shoulders, she pulled away, "I'm okay. What do we do now?" He answered and pulled her close against him "Let's go protect our remaining witness. Shall we?" She nodded, "Let's talk to him without the aid of Jack Daniels this time." He nodded and followed her out the door. Both agents had that foreboding feeling as the car came to a halt once again beside the Mercedes. Mulder pointed to the Marshal's patrol car and stated, "The calvary's here." She nodded and followed him into the house. They knocked four times before they entered the house, guns drawn. They found the body of the butler lying unceremoniously against the wall of the foyer. His feeble old neck twisted at an unnatural angle. His tired ole eyes, peaceful as if his end was inevitable. They made their way room by room until Mulder directed her to the stairs. She went first, he followed closely behind. They discovered the federal marshal's body hanging pretentiously over the balcony. There was only a little blood dripping from a small wound in the center of his head. No other wounds were evident, he looked almost as if he'd merely fallen asleep. After a quick search of the rest of the house, the trail took them down to the stable. Once again Scully pushed ahead with Mulder checking the sides and the rear. Once they reached the stable, he pulled her arm and indicated he would enter first. She nodded and took her stance to cover him. Mulder entered cautiously, checking to his left and right. He had gone only a few steps inside the stable when the gunshot rang out. It vibrated loudly throughout the structure. And when she fell it seemed to Mulder that it took forever for her to hit the ground. He dropped to his knees and pulled her to cover, firing his weapon into the direction he believed the shot had come from. In the distance he could here the sounds of someone running out the back entrance. He pulled out his cell phone and barked into the receiver, "This is Special Agent Fox Mulder of the FBI. I have an officer down." He spoke to Scully, "Stay with me, Scully." She made a heavy breathing noise as if to reassure him she was indeed still breathing. Quickly he gave the operator the address and pushed the phone back in his pocket. He brushed the hair out of face and demanded, "Scully, can you hear me?" She pushed his hand away from her face and announced, "Stop yelling, Mulder. I'm not deaf." Her breathing was heavy and labored. He acknowledged the large blood stain seeping through her suit jacket and yanked at the suit and blouse until it ripped way affording him a chance to examine her. He pulled her jacket completely off and knotted it up and under her head as a pillow. He tore the blouse away, using the material to push against the wound to staunch the flow of blood. "It looks like it entered just below your shoulder, Scully." She flinched as he continued to press down on the wound, the pain growing increasingly worse, "Mulder," she advised, "not so hard. You're hurting me." He winced as she said the words, "Sorry, Scully, but you're bleeding a lot. I don't know how to stop it." She started to shake her head but instead she passed out, folded in his arms like a child. The fire truck arrived just as the ambulance pulled away with Scully in tow. Mulder looked pitifully at the Senator's estate as the last of it fell to the ground in burned ruins. He wiped his brow leaving a trail of smote and exhaled regretfully. He knelt to the ground and collected his jacket, then walked defeatedly to the car. He was ready to shut the door when the fireman informed him that they found the Senator's body in the charred ruins of the house. Mulder followed the fireman to where the gurney lay occupied by a figure covered with a sheet. He pulled the sheet away and looked at the remains of Senator Boltwood. Mulder nodded to the fireman and let the sheet fall idly back into place. As it fell, Mulder noticed a small tattoo on the Senator's right hand that bore incredible resemblance to the now infamous infinity sign. Mulder shook his head and mumbled under his breath, "Paid in full." The fireman inquired, "What was that Agent Mulder?" Mulder nodded and rose walking towards his car, "Nothing." 7AM Nevada Medical Center She became aware of the pain as soon as she woke. It was terrible, it seemed to radiate down her entire left side of her body. Moving her left arm seemed futile, so she decided to try the right arm instead. She stopped when she realized someone's forehead was laying on her right hand. Attempting to sit up for a closer view was nearly as painful as trying to move her left arm. She opted to move her head instead. This proposed movement made all the occupants in the room stand at attention. Mulder's head snapped up off her arm, "Scully?" "Mmmm," was all she managed to get out. She bit down on her lip and swallowed painfully. Quickly someone handed her a glass of water and pointed the straw so that she had easy access to it. She looked up to discover Chris' hand steadying her own so that she could drink. He smiled and took the glass away, making sure to put it within her reach. "What happened?" she asked, her voice hoarse and low. Mulder replied, "Senator Boltwood shot you, don't you remember." She shook her head and rested it back on the pillows, "I remember going in the stable." She paused then added. "I remember you tearing my shirt off. You'll pay for that, you know." He smiled, "Gladly." Then he added leeringly, "Too bad, I only gotta replace the shirt though." This brought a smile to her pale face. Their tirade was interrupted by the stern voice of the assistant director, "Agent Scully, you need to rest. Agents Mulder & Gates will be OUTSIDE if you need anything." Both agents rose and followed their superior out the door. Mulder glanced back to her as he shut the door, relieved to see her already nodding off back to sleep. Skinner looked quickly to Gates, "Why are you here?" He replied, "I'm off duty, Sir. Dana was expecting me. I needed to talk to her." Skinner looked to Mulder, who nodded as if validating Gates' reply. Skinner turned and looked back to Scully's door, "Mulder, she's going to be fine." He ran his hand over the top of his bald head, "You should go back to DC." "Sir," Mulder began, "I have lots of vacation time. Need I remind you, Sir that your are always on my back about taking some of my vacation time." "No, Agent Mulder, "Skinner warned, "You needn't remind me." "I need to make sure she's okay. Scully and I will return together," Mulder declared. Skinner shook his head, "Agent Mulder, there is a case in DC, an X file, that requires you're immediate attention." "But, Sir." Mulder started. Skinner interrupted, "No buts Mulder. Back to DC tonight." He looked to Gates, "Agent Gates can watch over Agent Scully, if you insist." Mulder shrugged and disappeared back into her room. He checked her over again, then kissed her on the forehead before leaving the room. When he came back out to the hallway Skinner was gone. He motioned to Gates, "You call if anything changes. I mean anything." Gates nodded that he understood. The next 2 days were sort of a blur for Scully. She was in and out of consciousness nearly the entire period of time. It was strange because some of the things she remembered just did not fit explainably into her recovery regimen. Her recollections were hazy, minute flashes that bordered dream and reality. She dreamed of her father; she dreamed of Melissa. She forced the disturbing image of Cancerman poised up against the wall of her hospital room. His smirking smile, an unsettling realization, even in sleep. She remembered being moved again to another examining room. There was a bright light overhead and other examining tables close by. She recalled images in surgical dress moving intimately around her while others dressed in dark suits waited off in the distance. Her mind reeled from the anesthesia, one of the dark suits seemed familiar, his balding head and gold rimmed glasses seemed to bring her comfort. She remembered having her hospital gown changed a number of times, but the reasons were unclear. During one of these instances, she dreamed of the bald man approaching her, clutching her hand in comfort and covering her nakedness with a warm blanket. On the 3rd day she awoke back in her same hospital room with Chris clinging protectively to her hand. She smiled when she saw him and squeezed his hand, "Where's Mulder?" Chris returned her smile and informed her, "Skinner forced him to go back to DC." She stretched as much as her shoulder would allow her too and asked, "How long have I been out?" He kissed her hand, "Three days, on & off." He looked to her, "Do you remember anything?" She pulled forward with a little aid from him, "No, I vaguely remember the surgery. I have images of the OR, but that's about it." Her smiled deepened, "I dreamed about you." He caressed her hand against his cheek, "Pleasant dreams? I hope." She swallowed hesitantly, "I dreamed you were in the OR with me. I could see you through the glass, but we couldn't talk. I couldn't talk. You were just watching over me, smiling to me." He smoothed the red hair away from her eyes, she went on, "It was very comforting." Their eyes locked for a moment, he kissed her forehead, "You're gonna be fine." She pulled her hand free and traced the stubble along his jaw, "You need a shave, Agent Gates." He smiled & placed his hand over hers. He admitted, "You gave us quite a scare " Shaking his head he added, "I thought Mulder was going to go crazy until you woke up." She nodded, "He's just afraid he's gonna get stuck with all the paperwork on this case." He laughed and pulled her hand close to his chest, "Somehow, I don't think that's it." He leaned in close to her, bringing his face close to hers and told her, "I really need to kiss you now. Is that okay?" She could feel the warmth of his breath against her cheek, she closed her eyes and nodded. His kiss was soft and unthreatening, a gentle brush of his lips against hers. The next one, however, was more omnipotent and it overwhelmed her, until she couldn't breathe. He sat down on the edge of the and continued his ministrations, stroking her neck softly until she whimpered against his lips. She gently pushed against his chest, he pulled his lips from hers and looked hesitantly into her eyes. She smiled to him and whispered, "I forgive you." Skinner's Office 1 week later Skinner looked anxiously from one to the other, then finally asked, "Agent Scully, How are you feeling?" She smiled and answered quickly, "Much better, Sir. Thank you for asking." His attention turned to Mulder, "How's that report coming?" Mulder handed him a file folder, "All done, Sir." Skinner flipped quickly through the pages, making gasps of impatience after every few pages, "Agent Mulder," he began, "Do you really believe the actress in this picture is over 60 years old. And that she made some deal with this Shapur who granted her eternal youth?" Mulder sat proudly, back against the chair, "Yes sir, I do." Skinner looked to Scully, "Agent Scully, what are your thoughts?' She hesitated, "I will admit, Sir, that there remains a number of issues I can't explain. But I doubt the existence of anything paranormal in this case. I believe the actress known as Rachaela died from an overdose. I can find nothing to support any other cause of death." She glanced sideways at Mulder, "In addition I believe the death of Drake Franklin to have resulted from his gambling connections. The Senator was drinking heavily when Agent Mulder and I interviewed him. He was obviously upset over the deaths of his friends. I believe he became delusional and killed his employee along with the marshal because he believed them to be this Shapur person who was stalking him and his friends." She added, "There was, however, nothing to explain the symbolic references we found associated with all 3 victims. Agent Mulder, also, believes the Senator to have had the same symbol burned into his hand after or during his death. There are a number of unanswered questions that still persist." Skinner continued to shake his head long after Scully had stopped talking. He cleared his throat, "Well, I think most of the questions have been answered enough so that very little still lingers. I'm closing this one." He handed it to Scully, "Will you write up your conclusions and submit it when you're finished?' She nodded and took the file from him just in time to see the front of it smear with blood. Instantly her hand went to her nose and she excused herself, leaving the file on her seat. Skinner rushed to her chair and picked up the file examining it closely. Mulder touched his arm, " She gets a lot of nosebleeds, Sir." Skinner handed him the file and replied, "You're excused Agent Mulder. Go check on your partner." Dana Scully's Apartment 2 weeks later 10PM He rolled her over atop his chest and caressed her naked back tenderly, "You are an amazing woman, Agent Scully." He kissed the top of her head as he said it and smiled to her. She snuggled closer atop him, wrapping her arms around his waist and breathing in the scent of him as she lay against his chest. She kissed his neck and moved upward until she found his lips again. She pulled her lips away and pushed his hair away from his forehead, "I missed you." He moved his hands up until he touched the pucker of scar tissue around her shoulder. He touched it tenderly, "Does it still hurt?" She shook her head, "Not much." He kissed it tenderly and asked, "Better?" She smiled, "Maybe a little bit?" He kissed her again and again, changing directions, up and down, left and right. Asking her after every kiss if it was better. Finally, after nearly kissing nearly every inch of exposed flesh above the sheet, he asked, "So where to now?" She smiled to him, `You seem to be a smart man." His kisses rose up her neck, under her jaw, around her ear, up to her eye lids, until he flipped her over unto her back and continued making his way back down the trail he'd just traveled. He had just reached the valley that disappeared under the sheet when she pulled his head up and grabbed his lips with hers again. Their lips locked in a firery battle of passion, when she mumbled between heavy breaths, "Chris you know what I'd really like?' He kissed her neck again, his tongue dipping into the indention of her throat, `What?" She giggled as a result of the attention he was paying to her neck, "Promise you won't laugh." He pushed closer against her, nearly crushing her against the mattress. Concentrating hard on the kisses he placed he replied, "I won't laugh. What is it you want?" She paused for effect and answered seductively, "Ice Cream". His body stiffened, he paused his ministrations, "What?" She laughed and arched an eyebrow at him, "You asked." He shrugged his shoulder and replied, "Now?" She nodded and clutched the sheet tight around her chest , "Fraid so." He pushed himself up and away from her and rose unmodestly heading for the kitchen. She heard the familiar opening of her refrigerator followed by it closing. He appeared at the doorway a few minutes later dressed in jeans and a t shirt. She sat up quickly covering herself with the sheet, "Where are you going?" He approached the bed and sat down, "You're all out of ice cream. I'll be back in a minute." She pulled at his arm, "No, don't be silly, Come back to bed." He pulled away, "I'll only be a minute." He kissed her cheek, "After you eat all this ice cream, I'll be fun, warming you back up." She smiled and kissed him full on the lips, "Don't be long." He smiled and whispered, "I can't be gone too long. I don't have on any underwear." He pulled away and disappeared into the living room, calling out to her, "I'm taking your car. Mine's blocking you." She acknowledged him and laid back down against the pillow comfortable in the silence. Only a few minutes had passed when the silence was interrupted by the unmistakable sound of a car bomb exploding. She looked out in horror, knowing even beforehand that it was her car. Her world exploded as she vaguely remembered falling forever and then suddenly hitting the floor. The end 29