>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> Subject: So Shall you Reap 10 >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> The Coach & Horses public house. Stoke Easton Saturday 8pm Dana Scully was drunk. Not rip-roaring life-and soul-of the party drunk, nor sobbing into her gin drunk, but definitely not in control of her mouth and limbs. And the very strange thing was that she had no idea how she came to be in this condition. "Mus' be 'n X-file", she muttered sagely to herself. Phoebe Green leaned across the table, which was littered with glasses. "Agent Scully, I do believe you're finally having some fun. Mulder *will* be surprised when I tell him." She smiled wickedly. Dana realized that she was grinning at Phoebe. Had Phoebe said something funny? Dana tried to think about it, but it was too difficult. She shook her head a little. Detective Constable Watson , one of Phoebe Green's team based at Stoke Easton police station , came back from the bar carrying another round of drinks on a tray. He squeezed past Phoebe to sit on the bench next to Dana, then leaned back, putting his arm along the back of the bench behind her. He handed Dana another drink - and winked surreptitiously at Phoebe Green. "The cider here is famous - you really have to try it while you're here", Phoebe had told her when they had arrived an hour and a half before, to await Mulder. Dana wasn't a fan of the innocuous apple-fruit drink back home, but it wasn't worth a battle "Mm, interesting stuff!" she had remarked surprised at the tang of it, then pulling a face, slightly puzzled at the raucous laughter which had greeted her remark But she had been thirsty, and drank the first one very quickly, and then another appeared, and now another ...... And suddenly she wasn't feeling well at all. She vaguely remembered Mulder saying something about going to see the crop circle people earlier that evening. But where was he now? Phoebe touched her on the arm, and there he was, making his way through the crowd. Scully stood up, swaying slightly on her feet, and moved to meet him, bumping as she did so into a couple of lads and spilling their beer. "Sorry..sorry..." she frowned, looking at the mark the beer had made on the man's jacket. "Looks like the lady's had a drop too much" one of the lads said good-naturedly And Mulder was next to her, and he had heard what was said. He could smell the alcohol on her breath. Could see from her unsteady gait that she was at least half-drunk. Christ, he had to get her out of here. He grabbed hold of her by the elbow and twisted her round to face him. "What the fuck are you playing at here, Scully?" Shock made him rougher than he intended to be. "Mulder," she sought for control of her thoughts as she lurched against him slightly. "Mulder....I think I'm .....I think I've had ......I do'n understand...." Her gaze was unfocussed as she looked up at him, and her face slack. Her eyes widened suddenly, and her hand flew to cover her mouth, and she pushed past him and stumbled into the Ladies cloakroom. Mulder felt the anger bubble up inside him. Anger at Scully, for behaving like this in front of Phoebe Green. Anger at himself - because this must, somehow, be his fault. In the four years he had known Dana Scully he had never seen her even tipsy. This was so utterly out of character. Jesus, was *this* her reaction to having sex with him - to go out and get thoroughly smashed? That made him feel real good. Frustrated at his inability to follow her into the cloakroom and ask her just exactly what she thought she was playing at, getting plastered in the middle of an investigation, he turned to find Phoebe's cruel dark eyes watching him from across the smoke-filled room. A small smile tugged at the corner of her lips, then she turned away to speak to Buchanan. Scully emerged ashen-faced. "I do'n' feel so good, Mulder. I'm goin' home...." She leaned into Mulder, fumbled in his jacket pocket - "Gimme the keys, Mulder..." then stumbled heavily against him till he caught her and held her at arms length to look her in the face. "Don't be silly, Dana. You're in no state to drive." He took her by the arm again and pulled her through the crowded bar towards the door, shielding her with his body from the watching amused eyes of the Phoebe and her colleagues, his face grim. "You're hurtin' me Mulder," she whimpered, but he appeared not to hear, tugging the heavy door open violently, and pushing her out into the cold air. That was the final straw for Scully. Pulling herself free from him, she staggered over to a low stone wall and threw up comprehensively into the garden. Mulder let her go. Scully was his refuge: his love for her had become the bedrock of his life. What had he done to her? He had taken her, and cost her the cool professionalism that she protected so fiercely. This was his fault - and he could hardly bear to help her. For he knew about drink. He had seen what the demon had done to his father: huddled under his sheets as his father roared around the house looking for Samantha, night after night. Waking up to find whisky breath on his face, red accusing eyes staring into his own, he would lie completely still knowing that any movement would only enrage his father more. And in the morning the icy coldness of his father's manner, his condemning eyes - see what you have driven me to, because you couldn't take care of your sister. There was never any physical abuse, but the walking on thin ice, always holding his breath, the fear of upsetting his father because his temper was so much shorter when he was in drink - these were Fox Mulder's memories of his teenage years. He had often wondered why his mother didn't just leave. She was not a weak woman. And then the day he departed for college she filed the divorce papers. And when Phoebe had.....betrayed him, and he had thought there could be no future for him without her, he too had sought refuge briefly in the seductive depths of the bottle. Until he had woken up one morning in the bed of a woman whose name he didn't know, looked in the mirror and remembered nothing about what he had done the night before, or the night before that, either. So he had given up drinking spirits. A couple of beers at the weekend, or winding down after a case with Scully - that was his limit. His mind flashed to Comity and he grimaced. He had downed half a bottle of vodka in that motel room, but what he had told Detective White had been the truth: he didn't usually drink. That was why, the other night, it had only taken a couple of pints of ale to make him tipsy himself. And thinking of that he burned with shame again. Not this time because of the lust Phoebe had effortlessly conjured, but because Scully had been gentle and non-judgmental when she had found him asleep on the sofa reeking of beer - could he really not be the same for her? He looked at her now, sitting shivering on the low wall, her whole body shaking. He should go to her, hold her, help her. He should tell her that if it caused her so much distress then they must stop - his soul shrank at the thought of never knowing Dana Scully in that way again. But he couldn't go to her, and he recognized that was a failure, a flaw in his love for her. As he looked at her, she slid down to sit on the ground, and she began to cry, very softly. Dana Scully had no idea what was happening. The world whirled around her, she was so cold, so tired. She wanted Mulder to take her home, put her to bed, but he just stood over by the door, watching her. She knew that what had happened was a very bad thing. If only she could get back to the hotel, back to bed....she tried to stand up, and found a pair of strong arms helping her up. Not Mulder. She swiped away the hair that kept falling across her face. Not Mulder, Buchanan. "Agent Mulder," he called. "I think your partner could do with some help." Mortified, Mulder stepped across and transferred Scully to his own arm. Unlocking the car door, he bundled Scully into the front seat, and was crossing to the driver's side when Buchanan spoke again. "I don't know what your problem is, but your partner has been the victim of a very cruel practical joke." "Meaning what?" Mulder stepped close to the man, but Buchanan held his ground. "Go and ask your girlfriend in there - she's the one who thought it was so funny to spike Agent Scully's cider with vodka." "Scully was drinking cider?" "Yes - it's a local speciality - home-fermented and *very* potent. Enough by itself to fell a strong man, but with a shot of vodka added..." "For God's sake, why didn't you warn her?" Mulder hissed into the older man's face. "I would have - but by the time I found out what all the sly looks were about, you had arrived. Look, it's not for me to interfere between you and your partner..." Mulder glowered, and started to interrupt, but Buchnan continued, "but this is really not her fault. She needs you to help her, not condemn her. And she'll feel like hell in the morning. Save the grief for that bitch inside." So saying, he turned on his heel and left. Mulder leaned across and fastened her seatbelt. "I'm sorry Mulder....so sorry" she mumbled, and there was nothing he could say. He was the one who should be apologizing. ************************************* Lygon Arms. Half an hour later. He stripped her clothes off her gently, wiped her face with a flannel, helped her into her blue pajamas, and made her drink two glasses of water even though she protested that it would make her throw up again. Then he helped her slide under the covers and sat next to her stroking her hair. And all the while the fury burned in his soul at Phoebe Green. "Mulder..." "Hush." His hand smoothed across her forehead, lightly closing the eyes that had fluttered open. "Try to sleep, Dana. " "Oh God, Mulder, I'm sorry - I'm so sorry...I don't know what to say.....Mulder I could lose my job if they find out back home....and then I'll lose you too...." One lone tear squeezed its way out and trickled down her cheek. Is that what she really thinks, wondered Mulder. . And then he realized sadly that he had never told her, never used the words, and maybe she needed him to say them. "Dana Scully, for as long as you want me, I'm yours," he whispered into her hair. "I love you." But she was asleep, and didn't hear him. ******************************** . Lygon Arms 11.30pm. It had turned colder as Mulder walked out to the rental car. Scully had sunk into a deep slumber and he doubted if she would awake before morning. But Fox Mulder wasn't going to wait that long before he told Detective Chief Inspector fucking Phoebe Green just *exactly* what he thought of her fucking mindgames. The car started on the second turn, and he drove off through the empty lanes towards Holbrook Manor. ******************************** Lygon Arms Sunday morning 26th May - 3 am. Dana Scully woke with a start and a thudding in her head. Her mouth tasted disgusting. And she was alone. Groaning, she switched on the small bedside light. Definitely no Mulder in bed with her - he must be on the couch. Aspirin - anything - or she'd feel even worse next time she woke up. She swung her legs out of the bed and immediately regretted the violent movement. Her bag was next door - she *really* didn't want to disturb Mulder after making such a complete ass of herself . As the door swung back and light filtered into the sitting room she realized the couch was empty. Wildly she looked around, even though it made her feel sick to turn her head. Where the hell was Mulder? Surely he hadn't gotten another room...surely not. Was he so disgusted with her behaviour? She didn't remember much about those few hours, but the expression on his face when he saw the state she was in was seared into her brain. They had all been right. It was complete disaster. She pulled back the curtain. And she knew, with a cold certainty, where he was. Mulder had made his choice - and now they would all have to deal with that. *********************************** >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> Subject: So Shall you Reap 11 >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> DAY FIVE: AM Sunday 26th May 3am Rye Lane, Yarlington village. The flashing blue and red lights cut through the darkness, casting grim shadows across the tangled debris of the minivan, now pulled as far to one side as possible on this quiet country lane. The body of the fair-haired girl was loaded into the back of the ambulance, and the door slammed shut. Fox Mulder stood watching as the tailgate lights disappeared round a corner of the twisting lane. "Here," said a familiar voice quietly. "Take this." He turned as Phoebe Green handed him a mug of tea. He raised an interrogative eyebrow and she gestured to a woman dressed in a coat obviously pulled on in haste over her nightgown and a pair of wellingtons who was carrying a tray of hot drinks round to the support staff. "Farm up that track.....Eastcourt Farm. That's the wife. She was the one who first phoned it in." "She's dead, Phoebe. All of them are dead." The minivan had careered off the road and straight into a small electricity substation , then burst into flames. Eighteen six-formers and their teachers, returning from a performance of 'The Tempest' in Stratford, they'd somehow got lost among the dark lanes and ended up here instead of all being safely home in bed hours before. What a waste. He was utterly drained. Phoebe nodded, a bleak expression on her face. "Come on, Mulder, there's nothing else we can do here. " They had been at the scene for nearly two hours, among the first to arrive. The first intimation that something was wrong was when the power in the house failed and everything was plunged into darkness and silence. Pulling out of Mulder's arms, Phoebe had drawn back her bedroom curtains so they they could both see clearly the glow of the fire in the nearby sky.. Moving swiftly into professional mode, Phoebe had summed all temergency services, by which time the back-up generators in the house had kicked in. By the time they had roused the Ambassador and Mrs Matheson they could hear the sirens in the distance. "I have to go and check it out Mulder. It could be a terrorist incident directed at Richard, or even a decoy to leave us exposed here so I've got back-up units coming - once they arrive, I'm going to the scene. Are you coming.....?" The sirens were much closer now. When Phoebe and Mulder pulled up in her little Morgan - well-known to the local constabulary, so there was no problem getting through - only a couple of police cars and arrived. The wrecked vehicle smoldering, and there was no sign of life from inside. But one of the policemen, waist deep in a muddy ditch, cradled a young girl in his arms. She had been thrown out of the back of the van as it crashed. She was conscious, but barely so. The officer places her gently down on the grass and another man ran up with a blanket. More sirens could be heard approaching. Phoebe an Mulder went over. The injuries to the girl's lower torso were horrific - what wasn't crushed was burnt. Mulder knelt down, dipped his handkerchief in the brackish water of the ditch and wiped her face. She opened her cloudy eyes, and squinted at him. "It hurts," and Mulder had felt utterly helpless. With surprising strength she had reached out and grabbed his arm. "There was this light....it was so bright.....and the noise......" She looked to be about sixteen. Her eyes closed and her breathing became even more shallow. Phoebe was yelling into her cellphone for the ambulance to be quick. Mulder had continued to bathe her face with the water, but he had known that it was too late to do anything for her. Pulling himself back to the present, he realized that Phoebe was speaking to him. "Come on, Mulder. She touched his hand, lightly. "Time we were getting back. There's nothing more for us here. It's an RTA. I have to go back and stand down the guards at the Manor. ". Mulder took his empty mug back to the farmer's wife, a small, sturdy woman.. "They say it was kids?" At his sad nod, she continued. "I knew summmat like this 'ud 'appen when I looked out the winder and saw them 'helicopters. There ought be a law." She placed his mug on the tray and turned to go. "Excuse me......what did you say?" Mulder senses pricked. "It's always the bleedin' same. Them helicopters - night maneuvers they call it. Night-bloody-mare if you arst me. Woke me up they did - make the whole bloody building shake. An it's the same thing every month or so. I'm only surprised there's not been an accident before. And when you phone up Yeovilton to complain, they just say 'We've made a note of your comments, madam, but this information is classified. I'd bleeding classify them if I could get my hands on 'em, I tell you. Scaring our cattle - we had five aborters arfter the last jaunt. Still, we got the compensation in the end - though my husband said it weren't really enough." "So - these helicopters - why do they cause so much problem?" The woman pulled her coat closer arund her with her free hand. Mulder realised that a heavy drizzle had set in, and he was getting wet and chilled. "Well, see they fly so low, and you can't see 'em at first, just hear the noise and feel the vibration. Then suddenly, on comes them powerful lights and you still can't see nothing if they're flying at you 'cos you're blinded - and then the vibration, as I said, it makes everything shake. Got knocked to my feet once by it. " "And where do they fly from?" "Told you, no-one knows. Could be Yeovilton - you know, the Fleet Air Base. Rumour is they've got all kinds of stuff there they don't want no-one to know about. Then there supposed to be some other Yank place over west. You're a Yank." she stated, then continued, "Them as came to pay us for them dead calves, they was yanks, but they never said where they came from." Mulder beckoned Phoebe Green from where she was talking to one of her officers. "Can you get someone over to take a statement?" Phoebe shrugged, and Mulder pulled her aside, and spoke quietly. "Look, I think you should, but this may be important for Mrs Matheson's case, so you wan to make sure it's someone discreet. Get them out here in the morning, and I'll give you a list of questions.". "You think you're on to something?" "I think I know what made the Range Rover crash, yes - but that raises as many questions as it answers." ********************************** By the time they'd got back to Holbrook Manor dawn was breaking., and Fox Mulder was so drained from the events of the night that he crashed out on the sofa in the library. His eyes closed, and he was asleep. He awoke to the aroma of coffee, and Phoebe shaking his arm. "Agent Scully called." She grinned wickedly at him. "She sounded a bit -under the weather!" "Phoebe...."His voice held a warning note. and he shrugged her arm off him. "Sorry!" She smiled a little ruefully. "I'll try and be good, Mulder. It's just that...." "I don't want to hear it." "You're no fun anymore, Fox Mulder," she pretended to pout. "She wanted to know where you were. I think you've got some explaining to do, Mulder. And if she means as much to you as you say, you'd better start working on your story pretty damned quickly. She'll be here within the hour. I'm off now. Enjoy eachother," she smirked. Mulder took at large mouthful of the coffee she had placed on the table for him, and grimaced. "Oh and Mulder...." He looked up warily, "You look like shit!" She leaned down, kissed him quickly, and laughed, "Scully's * really* getting a bargain!" and closed the door behind her. Mulder smiled, and relaxed back against the cushions. For the first time in fourteen years he could think of Phoebe Green without a wrenching in his gut. She had stood, the night before, laughing in his face, not bothering to deny the deception she had practised on Scully. "Oh come on, Mulder. You never used to be so boring! You must admit it was very entertaining to see a new side to the po- faced Agent Dana Scully. She needs to relax more often. You should be grateful to me - I'll bet she was a wild woman when you got her back to your room!" Mulder was icy calm. "Why'd you do it, Phoebe?" He stepped very close to her,so that he could feel her warm breath on his face." She gets to you, doesn't she? Pushes all your buttons, because she's all the things you could be if only you hadn't wasted all thse years on powergames and fucking everything in trousers...." "Oh, not quite everything. Mulder. Although I wasn't as discriminating as I should have been, perhaps. After all, I screwed you, didn't I." "Screwed is right, Phoebe. And then you couldn't let it be, you wanted to come back for another go again and again. You're sick, do you know that?" Now it was Phoebe's turn to be angry. "Sick - you're bloody right I'm sick! Of men and their double-standards! I don't need to waste my time on reluctant lovers! Don't you look at me like that, Fox Mulder, " she hissed, " Every time we ever fucked you *wanted* to do it! Whatever pathetic lies you might like to tell yourself now, you practically begged me to stay with you in Oxford, you came to me of your own free will in Boston." She stepped towards him, pushing him in the chest with her hand. "We had fun, Mulder. Remember that? Two people enjoy eachother, enjoying life - having a good time together? And I *never* promised you any more than I gave you. Whatever hope you might have had for us - those were your own dreams." They were standing barely inches apart, her face almost level with his. "I was in love with you, Phoebe. You knew that damed fine. I'll tell you where you found your fun - playing with me - seeing just exactly how much humiliation you could heap on me....." Fourteen years of bitterness burned through his words. " You took me apart, piece by piece, until I didn't know who I was any more. You didn't want me, but you didn't want to let your toy go, either. And then in Boston - you didn't want me then, either, you already had your arms full. But you set out to lure me back into your bed and dammnit you nearly succeeded...." "There was no nearly about it, Foxy." She was angry too, and she smiled at him maliciously. " Don't ever fool yourself. When you opened your eyes that morning after the fire, in our hotel bedroom, it was me you wanted to be seeing, not your little partner." "You made me hurt her then, and now you've made me hurt her again...." "Don't be so bloody feeble, Mulder.You control your own life. You wanted me in Boston. I was there, I remember." "Oh, you know all the ways to make me jump. And why the hell are you playing mind-games again now?" They were both shouting. " I'll tell you why..... beacuse you're a cruel, spiteful bitch who hasn't got the first idea how it feels to really love someone. " Phoebe's eyes were alight, her head thrown back...."Can you feel it, Mulder? The energy between us? You'd be a fool to deny it - and you're not a fool. Come on..." She moved up even closer to him, so close but not actually touching. "Who's going to know. Your little Scully? Not if you don't tell her. Come on, Mulder. Once more, for old time's sake. You know how *good* I can be.... " As she spoke her hands moved to his shirt and began pulling it from the waistband of his trousers. "Come on, Mulder, I know you want to..." Mulder thrust her hands from his body and stepped back in disgust. "This is a waste of time...... I was wrong. You're not sick, Phoebe." And he turned to leave. "You're just a cold- hearted bitch. I truly believe that you're incapable of deep feelings. I should feel sorry for you really, because you can't cut it as a human being. The only satisfaction you seem to get is in wrecking other people's lives - and you're beautiful and clever enough to have gotten away with it for half your lifetime. But you're losing your touch with these unsubtle gropings. " His words dripped with contempt. "It won't work with me any more. Go and find some other poor sucker and wreck his life.One day - I can only hope that one day it'll happen to you...... you'll love someone. And if there's any justice, they'll treat you like shit" Phoebe paled at his words. "Don't say that, Mulder....." And he swore to God that her eyes grew moist "Oh come *on*," he jeered, "Another stunning performance!" "It's happened. What a joke!" She gave a short, bitter laugh. " Phoebe Green. mistress of mind-fuck, finally fallen in love." She sat heavily down on the edge of her bed. "Jesus, don't you ever give it up. I'm not going to sleep with you, whatever games you choose to play tonight. I don't even like you any more.." But she continued as if he hadn't heard . "Mulder I hate it. I hate feeling so - vulnerable. How can you live like this? " She looked up at him and the lost look on her face wormed its way though his anger. "When your happiness depends on someone else - what they do, what they think about you? When you day can be made or broken by a smile or a harsh word over the breakfast table." She took a deep breath. "I'm sorry, Mulder. I'm sorry if I hurt you in the past, I was young and cruel. Please - can we talk?" "You think that makes it all okay?" He was incredulous. "Phoebe says she's sorry, so that's alright then!" She held out her hand to him.. "Please," she repeated. " Talk to me . Properly. I ...I think it might help us both." There was a heavy silence in the room The connecion between then that had begun all those years ago when he had fallen helplessly for this fiery spirit....he could still feel it.The history between them was powerful. "Who is he?" "It really doesn't matter, Mulder. " He sat down wearily on the bed next to her, and really looked at her for the first time since they had arrived in England. She looked worn: some of her sparkle had gone. "Sometimes I hate what I do, Mulder, but I can't seem to stop myself. Like today, with your Scully. You're quite right. She does push all my buttons. I envy her because she has such composure. She doesn't seem to need anyone. - she's entire and complete with herself." She held up her hand as it seemed he was about to speak. "I'm sure she loves you. I don't mean that. But I - hell," she managed a small smile, "You're a psychologist. You should be charging me for this.....I can't seem to function alone. I need someone ...strong.....it makes me feel alive to be able to make them do whatever I want. But as soon as I've got them - it seems like it's not enough." Mulder spoke more gently. "And this man, you're in love with, what about him? Why is this different?" "I don't know, Mulder. Maybe because I haven't been able to bend him to me, yet. Maybe when I do, it'll be just the same all over again. But I can truly say that I've never felt like this before. "She gave him a sad smile, and held out her hand to him. He took it. There was nothing sexual in this touch between them. Just two people who had known eachother for a long time. "I was really very fond of you, Mulder. I promise. But you were just too......easy. " "Not much of a challenge?" " I'm sorry." And then she said the most astonishing thing. "Can we be friends? I...I don't have many friends." In a burst of honesty... "It's difficult to make friend with the women when you're stealing their men .... And I've never really - liked - most of the men I've been with enought to want to be friends after - you know......" Her voice tailed off. An old story flashed into Mulder's mind. "I don't know, Phoebe." After all these years he was finally realising that Phoebe Green's behaviour not only ruined the lives of those she crossed but was utterly self-destructive too. But he surely didn't want to be the frog for her scorpion. " I'm sorry, but I'm not sure you *can* be just friends with anyone." "I don't blame you, Mulder. I'm not sure I can be either. But I'd like to give it a try. At least let's not be enemies." They sat in silence for a while, in peace with eachother for the first time in fifteen years. "Are you happy, Mulder?" she suddenly said, turning to look at him. Was he? He had spent twenty years mourning the loss of his sister; the past ten years looking for her - it was his quest. But now that he had Dana Scully by his side on that journey..... a slow smile spread across his face. ."Scully makes me happy, Phoebe....... and she brings me peace." "Is that all? Is that enough? What about passion ?" "Ah, never doubt the passion. I know all about it. I had a good teacher." They exchanged a wry glance. "I'm glad for you. She's a lucky woman." Mulder smiled a little, and shook his head. "No, I'm the lucky one. " He stood up. "I must go......." "Mulder - will you hold me for just a minute?" "I don't think that's wise......" But why the hell not? If she truly didn't mean anything to him now, except as a friend. "Why not" So he held open his arms, willingly and liberated, and Phoebe Green came to him as a supplicant for the first time. Then all the lights went out, and through the flimsy curtains of her room, Mulder saw a strange glow in the night. "Looks like something's on fire....". *********************************** Holbrook Manor 10 am Sunday 26th May Whatever Dana Scully had expcted to find when she walked into Holbrook Manor that morning, it wasn't to find a dishevelled Fox Mulder sprawled out on the library sofa, where he had clearly been sleeping. Her hangover was currently being kept at bay by a liberal dose of Tylenol, and her emotions had been shoved savagely back down into that place inside her whre she very rarely ventured, but she felt, and was sure she looked, jaded. Her memories of the night before were pretty hazy: she recalled throwing up in the pub car-park, though, and Mulder putting her to bed. "Mulder, you look as bad as I feel, " she commented drily. "Ooh, Scully, surely not! You wound me!" He stood up lazily and padded over to her. "How you doin'?" "I'm fine, Mulder." She looked away. "Oh, right." His tone was ironic. "That is Dana Scully's 'fine' as in 'I feel like hell, and I'm really pissed off at Mulder'." His long fingers slanted her chin up to him. "You're not fine, Scully. Trust me, I'm trained to notice these things. You're badly hung-over, and you're upset because when you woke up this morning I wasn't there, and I was here. It's okay to be not fine under those circumstances." She closed her eyes. "I'm sorry about last night, Mulder. I have no idea..." "Don't worry about it." His casual reply infuriated her. "Don't worry about it! Mulder I made a complete idiot of myself in front of all those people..." she added silently. "But I swear I have no idea how it happened......" Mulder thought about teasing her, but discarded the idea. This wasn't the moment. And it was easy for him to be so blithe - knew what had happened last night, both to Scully and to himself. She didn't know that her drinks had been spiked, nor did she know that Mulder hadn't spent the night in Phoebe Green's bed. "Come here," he ordered. "We have to talk first..." "No, we have to do this first......." Cupping both hands round her face, he angled her head up, then bent down and brushed his mouth against hers. "Good mornin', Dana." He did it again, and this time he felt her slight smile as their mouths moved lightly together. "Morning, Mulder. I missed you." She snaked her arms round him and buried her head in his shirt. "I feel like shit." "I know. We'll get you some coffee." "I'm angry with you because....you weren't there this morning and you didn't even let me know where you were. I hate that, Mulder, you know I hate that," she muttered into his chest. His arms tightened around her. "I'm sorry. I didn't expect to be gone so long. I had to see Phoebe." He felt Dana try to pull away, but held her just as tightly. "She was messing with your head last night - and she spiked your drinks." This time he did allow her to pull back. "Why?" "Maybe you should ask her.. I know she's sorry, and she wants to tell you so. She's envious of you, Dana." "Yeah, right, Mulder. As if." "Is there anything you need to tell me about what happened here last night, Mulder." It was so hard to ask. "No. Nothing that would hurt you. Phoebe and I had a long.....discussion." He smiled his heart-breaking smile at her. "You can imagine it was a little heated to begin with." Taking her hnd, he led her to the sofa, and sat her down. "But we sorted out some stuff between us....." She shivered in relief, and all of a sudden, her headache didn't seem so bad. "So what kept you?" "We've got a new lead, Scully." "On the case?" She gave him the Look. "While you were here with *Phoebe* last night you found a new lead?" "Okay." They were Scully and Mulder again. "How's this for a plan......." Suddenly there was a flurry of activity out in the hall, and the door was flung open. "Agent Scully..." Matheson's tone was urgent. "My wife has collapsed . We need your help....." ************************************* The waiting -room for the intensive care unit at Yeovil Ditrict Hospital consisted of a long corridor without windows, painted a muted yellow, with low vinyl seats and a collection of the usual old magazines. Scully has accompanied Annelise Matheson in the ambulance at her husband's request. He had followed in an Embassy car after making arrangements for the care of his son. Mulder had wanted to come too, but Scully had convinced him that the most useful thing that he could do was go home, freshen up, and see what Washington had come up with overnight. Matheson had just been called into the unit to see his wife and hear the doctors' verdicts, and Scully was waiting outside alone. She knew what they were going to tell him, had known since the moment when she had pulled back the unconscious woman's eyelids and seen the extreme retinal hemorrhages - and all the other observations she had subconsciously been making over the last four days had clicked into place.. It was probably too late already. She had done her best at the hospital to make sure they understood the urgency, but the doctors here were not minded to listen to an American FBI agent who also happened to be a pathologist. "She needs an immediate blood transfusion to stabilize her Hb levels......check her esinophils...." But the woman had been stretchered through the double doors and Scully kept outside, and she had no idea what, if anything, they were doing in there. Should she have recognized it earlier? Had she been so consumed with her own problems that she had missed the significance of those vitals signs and because of that this woman was going to die? Dana Scully was not prone to irrational guilt, but she was tired, headachy and emotionally exhausted, and the temptation to wallow in it was strong. she admonished herself. She listed the symptoms in her head: fatigue, headache, pallor - yes she had observed these in Annelise Matheson - but hell, they applied to Dana herself today too, and most people at some point. The fainting she hadn't done before today. The hemorrhages in the eyes - she had only seen them this morning - had they been there on Friday? She hadn't been looking. Palpitations? The woman's hands had shaken a little as she held her newspaper - but Scully had put it down to the situation, the stress of what had happened to her, and the fact that Annelise Matheson herself didn't understand what was going on. Confusion - sure, she seemed confused. By the situation Scully had assumed. And then there was the incredible coincidence - she could just picture Mulder's expression if she called it that - of coming across two cases of aplastic anaemia - for that was what she was sure it was - in the space of a few days. Aplastic anemia which can be brought on by a massive irradiation. Which causes end-organ damage if not diagnosed and treatment commenced within six weeks of the incident. And a massive dose of radiation appeared to be what her son Jonathan had received - only in his case it had achieved a beneficial effect. Scully forced her mind to follow the logical train of thought. If you started from the assumption that what Mrs Matheson described - being caught in a bright beam of light such that her body looked like an x-ray plate - if you proceeded from that fantastical assumption, then you could logically say that the beam of light comprised some kind of massive dose of radiation . They had both been subjected to it. It had effectively destroyed the productive capabilities of the bone-marrow in both of them. But in Jonathan's case this had been a good thing, something that needed to be done anyway, and he had been in hospital, monitored and ministered to since, with the best medical care in the world to make sure that his situation remained stable. Whereas for Annelise Matheson the effect was extreme damage to her organs, hyperesinophilia, and eventually potentially fatal heart failure, because nobody had any idea that she was suffering from anything other than stress. Nobody had believed her. No blood tests had been done at the hospital six weeks before, when these anomalies might have shown up. And what about that other little girl in the hospital in London, George Hedley's daughter , whose symptoms had arisen after her road accident...had she been irradiated too? And by whom? And the 'spacemen' in white suits Annelise Matheson had claimed to have seen after her accident. Men with what sounded like radiation counters.Maybe she was wrong about the whole thing.......Scully stood up, as Richard Matheson pushed open the doors from the ICU looking bleak. "How is she , sir." Whatever contempt she felt for this man's behaviour, he was suffering with his child and now his wife. "Not good Agent Scully. They're talking about blood transfusions and blood counts....but she seems to be weakening. She's having trouble with her heart now, too." Scully winced to hear it. "Do you want me to stay, sir? Is there anyone you'd like me to call?" The man shook his head. "There's nothing either of us can do. If she makes it through the next couple of hours they'll be airlifting her to St Thomas's in London . I'll go with her of course." She left him there then, a lonely figure. "Mulder". He answered immediately. "Can you come and get me? And I have some ideas - pretty wild ideas - that we need to share." Mulder's tone was sombre. "Sure, I'll be with you in thirty. I've got news this end. We're going on a little rural adventure this afternoon." ********************** >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> Subject: So Shall you Reap 12 >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> DAY FIVE PM Sunday 26th May "Ah....... Mr Mulder, we didn't expect you quite so soon. Please excuse us if we finish our *spring-cleaning*." The snub-nose of the gun glinted blue in the harsh brilliance of the single naked lightbulb illuminating the low-ceilinged farmhouse room. A large wooden table was strewn with papers and boxes; crates of what looked like electrical equipment were stacked to one side. Mulder had struggled viciously after being grabbed from behind until he had felt the cold metal cylinder pressed into the side of his neck. He still hadn't seen the face of the man who had grabbed him, and who had subsequently hauled him into this room and bound his hands to the wooden chair in which he was now sitting. But the man who was holding the gun on him with such malignant intent was familiar -from where? It was clear that very hasty packing had been taking place - in fact most of the property looked deserted, and that was what had led to the situation Mulder now found himself in. ********************************* On the drive to Maiden Beech Farm from the hospital Mulder filled Scully in on the information Langley had e-mailed him. The place was rumoured to have been a development centre for Ronald Reagan's Star Wars technology back in the 1980's, a piece of Anglo-American co-operation arising from Margaret Thatcher's infatuation with the US President's ideas for global defence. Langley had ruefully admitted to having few useful up- to-date details, except for a possible link to the development of a new type of Stealth helicopter. Scully was surprised, on arrival at the farm, to find it so apparently dilapidated and run down. From the map they had been able to discover that the farm lands backed onto the Fleet Air Base: they had located a footpath that would take them within viewing distance of the buildings and provide them with the cover of trees. To all outward appearances, the buildings were perfectly ordinary except for an unusual cluster of antennae on the roof. There were three very large outbuildings, which, along with the house itself, totally enclosed the farm yard. Odd in itself, Mulder mused aloud to Scully from their vantage point on the wooded valley-side. Odder still was the large size of the enclosed yard. There had been no movement at all from any of the buildings for over an hour. It had begun to drizzle, and Scully shifted next to him a little, restless. "I'm okay , Mulder." She had caught his glance. "Pins and needles in my foot. How long d'you think we should wait?" Although she very rarely used her gun Scully felt vulnerable without her weapon. She was quite content to wait until Mulder felt ready to move in for a closer look, and settled herself more comfortably back against a tree-trunk. Dropping the binoculars back around his neck, Mulder turned to her. "I think we should give it at least another hour. Look how dark it's getting - I think we may be in for a storm." Indeed the rain was heavier, and the sky to the west ominously grey. "Great," Scully muttered. "Why is it, Mulder, that a little trip to the woods with you *always* involves me getting soaked to the skin." Still, at least she was dressed for it. She smiled, and nudged Mulder gently with her elbow. "Thanks." "What for?" Mulder looked confused. "I ragged on you for bringing these clothes for me..." She gestured to her brown jeans and hiking boots...."...but I'm really very grateful." He could be so considerate at times. And yet at other times he was the most obtuse man she had ever met. He gave her a sly smile. "Hey, you know I only did it so I could watch you getting changed out of that suit and all in the back of the car." "Mul..der! You promised me you wouldn't turn round!" She couldn't pretend to be angry, really. "Moi...break a promise, Agent Scully! I didn't....but what do you think rear-view mirrors are for. Very entertaining, too. Ever thought of taking up a circus career?" He gave her his best leer. "Shut up, Mulder." Impulsively she leaned in close to him, snaked out her hand and pinched him hard on the inside of his thigh. "Ow...shit!" He hissed loudly, and then saw in amazement that she was blushing. Her fingers still burned from the contact and she dipped her head forward so that a curtain of hair would hide her embarrassment from Mulder. Suddenly she felt his arm round her shoulder, pulling her in close. "I think," he whispered in her ear, "I think, in the interests of preserving body heat we should huddle together." "Is that right?" "It's what they taught me in Boy Scout camp!" "Don't you think it might me a bit - distracting?" Scully was suddenly very hot. Mulder sighed gently, and let her go. "You may be right, Agent Scully." "It was a very tempting offer, Agent Mulder, which I appreciate. May I take a rain-check?" She gave him a glowing smile, and they relaxed back together. "You know, this..." she gestured to the two of them leaning together..."This is going to take some working out." "I know." Mulder was serious now. "We need to talk about it. But until we can..." "What?" "I promise to keep my hands to myself while we're on a stakeout as long as......." and he leaned in and pinched her back in exactly the same place..."You promise to do the same." "The pain is the pleasure, Mulder!" Scully gave him an arch look, as they settled back to their vigil. She was not *going* to give him the pleasure of watching her rub her thigh. It'd only start him off again...... The farmhouse below was still quiet. Nothing moved in any of the surrounding fields. High above them came the faint whine of an aircraft fading away, and then there was silence apart from the pittering of the rain on their canopy of leaves. "Scully, there's something I've been wanting to say to you for a long time." Mulder continued to stare down into the valley as he spoke. Dana's chest felt suddenly tight: he sounded so serious. But she wasn't afraid of what he was going to say, not any more. Not after yesterday. She loved him too. "What is it, Mulder?". She didn't look at him either. Perhaps that would make it easier for him to say it. She knew that he loved her, but that he was finally going to say those words to her....... "I never really told you how sorry I was about your dog. About Queequeg." "Queequeg?" Her voice came out squeaky. She took a deep breath and laughed a little shakily. "Queequeg". She certainly couldn't look at him now. "I feel like it was my fault, Scully.....and I....hell, I wanted so much to hold you tight and try and make it better when we were stuck on that god-damned rock, but you were so angry with me, and the things you were saying to me were hard for me to hear." Suddenly Mulder's warm hand closed round hers. "It wasn't your fault, Mulder. You just feel guilty because you didn't like him." She squeezed his hand back. It wasn't his fault either that he hadn't said what she wanted to hear. And he was being really sweet, apologizing. If only he would shut up, and give her time to pull herself together again. "I feel bad, Scully, because I wasn't there for you. You've always been there for me...even when I didn't deserve it. When I ditched you to jump on that train." "When you ditched me to go to Alaska, and ran off to Hong Kong without me." "When I dragged you up to that logging camp and then gave away our last supply of fuel." "Even when you went running off after Bambi Berenbaum. Even when I had to shoot you...." Scully was regaining her composure now. "Especially when you had to shoot me. But you know what they say, Scully?" "What.....you always shoot the one you love?" She tried to withdraw her hand, but he held it tight. " 'Love means never having to say you're sorry.' " She did turn and look at him now, her eyes wide and dark. "I hated that movie, Mulder. And I always thought that line was crap. Or maybe I've never understood what it really meant. If you hurt someone you...care about, surely you should want to say sorry to them more than anyone else? Because they matter more?" He held her gaze, and they were talking about far more than an old film. "Of course you should. But even if you can't you'll still be forgiven. Because you know that the other person loves you enough to understand why you're such an insensitive, preoccupied ass sometimes, and to forgive you even when you can't say you're sorry. Or when you say you're sorry weeks too late." She whispered, half to herself, "Sometimes it's just nice to hear the words." Then, "What's brought all this on now, Mulder?" "Being here like this in the wet and cold and dark. You look the same..." Scully looked down at the dark blue jacket and jeans. Hell, he was right - it was even the same brown buttoned vest. "You called me 'Ahab'. That hurt, Scully. I don't want to drag you down. But Starbuck dies......" "Hush, Mulder." Scully had no idea that her words had made such an impact on him. She reached up and pressed her fingers to his lips as he started to speak again."Hush. I called my father 'Ahab', too." "I don't want to be your father, Scully.." He leaned towards her until his forehead was resting on hers. "I don't want you to be. But you're so like him in many ways. You both have honour. And a ...a noble spirit, and integrity. You do what you think is right even if no-one else can understand it, even if I can't understand it. And I love you for it, just like I loved my father, even though you frustrate the hell out of me sometimes. I'll willingly be your Starbuck, even if I've never seen the white whale, because I trust you." There was silence between them, and Scully shivered. It was cold and damp and....had she said much too much? "Dana Scully, have I told you today that I love you?" She closed her eyes. "Mulder. You've never told me that you love me." He shook his head a little, and raised his eyebrows. "But you knew.....didn't you?" She turned to look at him. "It's so nice to hear the words, sometimes." Her smile was small ."Thank you," she said simply. "You're welcome." He opened his arms to her, and they hugged briefly. "Back to work, Agent Scully." He kissed her softly on the nose. "You're cold. We've been here long enough. If there's someone in there, we're obviously not going to be able to see them from here. If the place is as deserted as it looks, we might as well go down. And this gloom'll make it more difficult for anyone to spot us." "Lead on Macduff." "Wrong country, Scully. You're out by about four hundred miles...." "Ha ha!" Quietly and cautiously they made their way down through the undergrowth towards the farmhouse. It was so dark it could almost have been dusk except for the yellowish tinge to the greyness. Moving around the outer walls of the buildings, they had been unable to see anything through the small windows: they had all been blocked from within. But the property still seemed completely deserted: not a sound from anywhere in the vicinity. Scully tugged at Mulder's arm and pointed to a small brick passageway. Moving together they found this led through to the central quadrangle. "This place is huge, Mulder," Scully hissed in his ear. "What goes on here?" On one side of the yard was the low farmhouse: the three other sides were bounded by huge barns. All of these vast structures had large steel doors: two of them were tight shut, but to the right of where the agents stood the steel door was slightly open, and they edged around to look inside. But it was too dark to make out very much......and before their eyes had time to adjust the air was filled with vibration and a high-pitched hummm that made Scully's ears ache as she clapped her hands to the side of her head to try and shut out the pain. Suddenly the yard was raked by a bright light, catching Mulder in its glare as he tried to flatten himself back against the wall. Shielding his eyes with his arm he realized he couldn't see Scully, couldn't see anything, as the vibrations grew stronger and stronger and the whole fabric of the structures seemed to shake. Mulder edged his way along the wall back towards the narrow passageway. He still couldn't see much the light was so blinding, but he could hear voices and footsteps clattering on the flagstones. But it was too late. He was grabbed in a bear hug as he backed into the passage-way, and the cold steel of a gun barrel shoved up under his chin. "Good timing, friend. Or not, from your point of view. Do come inside, and let's have a look at you." ************************************** Where the hell *was* Scully? For over two hours Mulder had been left tied to the chair in the farmhouse kitchen. Throughout the period other men - not the ones who had captured him - had come in to pick up boxes and carry them outside into the courtyard. He hadn't seen the man with the gun again, and his time was employed cursing the failure of his eidetic memory to pull a name for the guy, and trying to work some slack into the ropes coiled tightly round his hands and feet. Without success on both counts. Surely, if they had caught Scully, they would have told him, brought her in here. Easier to keep an eye on two prisoners if they are both in the same place. On the other hand, if she had managed to escape he would have expected that by this time she would have been back with reinforcements. It was quite dark outside now. Although the windows had been covered the backdoor swung open and shut as the crates and boxes were carried out. They were leaving in a hurry, that was for certain. He looked up as he heard the rhythmic drone of rotor blades out in the yard again. A different machine from the one which had caught him in its spotlight - that had lifted off again, shaking the building, a while before. "Not one of our specials, Mr Mulder - but I think you know about those. " He was back, and Mulder realized with a jolt why he had found it difficult to place him. He face was familiar, but the voice - no, to be exact, the accent - was different. Not a country yokel after all....far more refined and not even English. Clipped mid-Atlantic tones. Unplaceable. Mulder seriously doubted whether his name was Bob Flowerdew or he had a wife called Elsie. The man pulled up a chair, and sat down opposite Mulder. "Last night's - accident - was most unfortunate. We had hoped to have an extra few days to effect a more orderly departure." "Accident!" Mulder's tone was derisive. "We both know that was no accident." "Let me assure you, Mr Mulder, that the persons responsible for the -ah - error of judgment that gave rise to that distressing incident will be disciplined. " He paused, then continued smoothly, "After all, look at the inconvenience it has caused us. And you yourself - another inconvenience. As I said earlier, we really didn't expect you just yet." "You can't hope to get away with keeping me here.....there are people who know where I am..." "Your delightful partner...yes, we know all about her. But don't worry, we've nearly finished. Another couple of hours and we'll be gone. You can all search to your hearts' content then. But until your friends come.." the man known as Bob stood up.... "I'm afraid we're going to have to put you downstairs. Now, I sincerely hope you're not going to be troublesome, Mr Mulder, because I have special instructions not to damage you." Smiling slightly, he pulled the gun from his shoulder-holster and gestured with it to one of the others to untie Mulder. "You think you can kill with impunity - but why all this here?" Mulder recognized that struggle would be futile. His hands were unbound from the chair but then tied tightly behind his back. His feet were freed and he was pushed roughly to his feet. His captor smiled slightly. "Haven't you ever heard of the Special Relationship, Mr Mulder? Two countries with a mutual interest sharing research and development - what could be more friendly. And hiding in plain sight next to the airforce base, with no-one to comment much on the comings and goings - this place has been extremely useful. It really is rather unfortunate that the project has had to closed down just before coming to fruition. And I doubt if we'll be able to find another site with so many....natural advantages." "It's not just the new technology is it? That's not why you're here really. There's something special about this place, some reason why you needed them to be here, in this country, in this specific site..." And Mulder knew why. It was one of those times when a leap of intuition took him to the answer: he didn't understand how it worked himself. He just *knew* sometimes that he was right. Often Scully wouldn't believe him, couldn't follow his leap until she had worked her way painstakingly to the same place by logic and science. "The U.F.O studies. All the sightings....that's why you came here!" "Very clever, Mr Mulder." The man beamed at him like a teacher at a star pupil. "They said you were good - oh, yes," he nodded, "Your reputation is known to us. Now.." He bent down, and with one hand grabbed a metal ring embedded in the floor, pulling up a trapdoor hatch. "Down here, please. I'm afraid it may be a little cold and dark." Mulder felt a sharp shove in the small of his back and he moved forward somewhat unsteadily and looked down the hatch. Stone steps led down to a bare room, illuminated only by the light filtering down from the room they stood in. "Why kill them?" Another shove, and Mulder moved down the first of the stone steps. "What we do in concomitant with the threat. The lives of a few unfortunate individuals cannot be allowed to outweigh the greater good for our countries. And see what happens when we get sentimental, Mr Mulder, and let people live - like Annelise Matheson. Now, if it had been up to me, we'd have dealt with her the same as all the rest." His voice was chilly suddenly. "Well, you've killed her anyway. She's dying in hospital." They were by now near the bottom of the cellar steps, and the other man who had accompanied them lit up the room with his powerful torch. " Ah, Mr Mulder, now that really *was* nothing to do with us." "Why are you telling me this?" In the corner of the cellar was a mattress and blanket. "See, we don't want you to be uncomfortable while you wait. I hope for your sake your friends search thoroughly, otherwise you might have quite a *long* wait." The man pushed Mulder to sit on the mattress with the barrel of his gun. "Why am I telling you this? You've found us..why not? And it's over. We've finished here, unfortunately, and you'll never be able to prove anything." He smiled. "Your tenacity is well known to us, Mr Mulder - and we wouldn't want you to waste any more of the taxpayer's dollars trying to figure this all out!" The torch was snapped off, and the two men retreated up the steps. The trapdoor thudded shut and it was completely dark. Mulder heard the scraping of bolts being thrown as any hope of being able to escape from this place vanished. Very faintly he heard the noise of a helicopter lifting off - not, as 'Bob' had said - one of their specials, but bigger than an ordinary one. Some kind of military transport? Something big enough to put all those crates in? He settled back on the mattress. There really *was* nothing to do until Scully arrived with the backup. Then they'd tear this place apart. It was very cold. But Mulder was very tired indeed. He hadn't slept properly for days, so it was that very soon he fell into a fitful slumber, to be startled awake hours later by the scraping back of the bolts and light flooding in to the cellar. "He's in here," shouted a familiar female voice. "Mulder, are you all right?" He stumbled to his feet, blinking. The cellar was full of figures. Someone untied his hands and put a blanket round his shoulders. He was led up the steps and out into the farmhouse kitchen. "Where's Scully?" He looked around. Phoebe Green looked back at him. "Scully? We assumed she was with you. No-one's seen her since this morning!" ********************************************************* >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> Subject: So Shall You Reap 13 >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> Leg muscles screaming with cramp, Dana Scully crouched motionless behind a wooden crate. In the darkness of her hiding-place she could not read her watch, but time had stretched out since she had stumbled into the barn barely seconds before the blinding flare of light had trapped Mulder in it's glare. She had crawled behind a stack of boxes, scarcely able to think because of the searing pain in her head - and then the agonising vibrations stopped and she could pick out the sound of footfalls and voices shouting from the yard outside. The blackness inside the building was intensified by the dazzle outside....but suddenly that snapped off, too, and Scully's eyes began to adjust to the greyness. In the centre of the structure, occupying more than half the area, was a large military transport helicopter of the kind Scully recognised as a Chinook-clone. But not quite like any she had seen before - much more sophisticated, streamlined. And black. Wooden crates and boxes of various sizes were stacked around the vehicle: most of them appeared to be sealed, but others were open, and Scully had carefully and quietly worked herself round the perimeter to settle down behind one of these. Scully had been unable to distinguish his voice among the confusion outside, and it had become obvious very rapidly that he had not followed her inside the barn. At first she had hoped that he had managed to slip back the way they had come but as time passed with no sign of ...well, anyone, she could not stop the worry that crept to the edges of her thoughts. Had he been taken? It was clear that these people, whoever they were, were well- organised and well-funded. Specially modified Chinook transports don't come cheap.Scully watched as a succession of khaki-clad men loaded boxes into the helicopter in front of her. For a long time they carried in crates and what looked like peices of electronic equipment which had obviously been stored elsewhere; eventually, though, to Scully's alarm, they began to load methodically the crates stacked in the barn itself. She *had* to get out of there....but there was no cover. No sooner had one man left than another entered carrying more equipment. Very soon, her hiding place would be dismantled. The crate immediately in front of her was made of some kind of rough wood, slatted, so that by peering closely through the narrow gaps she could see to the interior which was half-full of folders and papers. But it certainly wasn't big enough to hold her . Nevertheless, by working her fingers through she was able to snag the corner of a small sheaf of paper, and very carefully she eased it out through the slit. It was too dark to read it, and the paper crackled alarmingly when she gingerly folded it in half and tucked it inside her breast-pocket. Scully settled back on her heels again, and considered her limited options. Another half an hour, and they would have cleared the place at this rate - and found her. No, she didn't think they'd be impressed. But maybe stepping forward would be better than just waiting to be discovered. But the decision wasn't necessary. Scully became aware of increased activity out in the yard - shouting - British and American voices - and then the unmistakeable clatter of rotor- blades as another helicopter landed in the cobbled courtyard. And suddenly her barn was empty and she had to move *now* - could be her only chance - where to? Not out of the door...she moved forward, committed .....no side-entrance, .....but the hatch to the belly of the helicopter was open and she scrambled inside just as the huge sliding doors of the barn were pulled right back. Scully lay back against the side of the hold, breathing deeply, allowing the adrenalin rush to subside as she considered her situation. Immediate discovery had probably been averted. The rear of the craft where she found herself was big enough to stand up in. If she pressed herself tight enough up against the bulkhead someone climbing into the helicopter the regular way might not see her at a casual glance, but she could see through the window at the front of the vehicle that the boxes she had been hiding behind were now being loaded up into the second helicopter out in the yard. Before she could be noticed she crawled back to the load area. She made a tiny space for herself, forced between two crates and settled down to await - whatever. With only sounds to guide her, she was startled when both side doors of the helicopter were slammed shut. Scully strained to hear any more, some clue as to what was happening. She could hear a diesel engine start up - not lorries, louder. The noise came closer, settled down to an idle for a few seconds and then was revved again. She was moving! A heartbeat later, she realised this was merely the Chinook being towed out of its hiding place. She was not in the air yet. One of the side doors had been opened and shut with a bang. From the voices, two men had climbed in and were obviously taking up their positions in the cockpit. A second before her own helicopter was started up, she was sure that she heard the other one start as well. Well, she was finally on the move and no choice but to sit it out. Without a change in the engine note, the floor of the Chinook pushed her skywards and she was in the air. Helicopters were noisy, she knew that, but at least the ones in which she had travelled previously had not been full of cargo like this one. Crates which creaked and groaned and threatened to fall on her at any moment. Crates of different sizes. Crates containing - well, what? Now, with a bit more light and time on her hands, perhaps she could find out. The nearest revealed nothing. Pushing her hand gingerly through the narrow gap she had created forcing the lid up, she felt only cold, hard metal. Try another, she thought. Ah, success. Papers of some sort. Scully grabbed a handful and dragged them out. No one could hear her - she led the lid slam back and dared anybody to come. After a while, Scully put the papers to one side. Reading them in the gloom of the cargo hold was nearly impossible. But these were documents that Mulder needed to see. Would see. After all we've been through, let it not end like this....her mind slipped brieflly back to their fevered coupling in the hotel. She was fiercely glad it had happened, sorry it hadn't happened before - saddened at the things she hadn't told him that she might now never have the chance to say. Enough, thought Scully. I am not going to sit here and wait to be found. Stretching tired and aching limbs, she eased herself out from her tiny space and looked around for a weapon, because a weapon she would surely need. Nothing. What's that? Looks like a gun. Yes - a flare gun, a Veri pistol. Scully almost fell over the crates in her hurry to get to it. She seized the gun, balanced it in her hands to get the weight of it: an equaliser, something that she could use in the coming showdown. Loading a flare and stuffing another in her pocket, she eased herself forward to the cockpit. It was pitch dark outside and the angle of the window glass acted like a mirror for the small cockpit. As a result, although the pilots could not see the reflection from down in the cargo bay, as Scully approached to within a few feet, they suddenly became aware that someone was there. The co-pilot made to relese his belt, stand, and shout 'What the...'all in one movement... 'SIT DOWN' Scully ordered and the shock of a woman yelling loudly in his ear forced him to do just that. "Now that I've got your attention - who'd you work for, and where are we going?" The pilot regained his composure very quickly. 'Who we are isn't important , and there's only one thing important about where we are going." He paused and actually smirked at her. "You'll be dead within a few seconds of us landing," With that he turned to look directly into Scully's face, challenging, mocking. 'You're the one that's going to be dead,' she replied. "Have you ever seen what one of these will do to a man?' She lifted the flare gun into full view. Scully hadn't either but she could guess. 'If I fire it right here and now at the instruments, the whole cockpit will blow and kill you both. Now take me to the nearest civilian airport!' She enunciated her words carefully. 'You fire it and you'll die as well.' The pilot smiled at her. "I know that". She felt a faint hope. These men would always underestimate her because of her sex. 'Do it then.' And he meant it. The threat of death was not going to persuade them. If she pulled the trigger they would all die - she would have achieved little, and Mulder would never see the files. But.... She tugged at her lower lip with her teeth, and then smiled back. .....If these men were willing to die then they were trained to follow orders to the letter. It was their job to get the helicopter to wherever it was going or die in the attempt. The cargo behind Scully must be *very* important so...blowing up the helicopter would mean the loss of all the data and equipment now piled up behind her. 'On the other hand' she spoke conversationally, "if I just fire into the cargo back there, you *will* have time to land before the whole thing goes up. You know the significance of what is on board: do you really want to lose it?' Scully moved slightly, suggesting that she was about to wheel round and fire into the cargo area. 'And' she added for good measure '...you even run the *terrible*risk of being alive to answer the questions.' The two men looked at eachother. "Bitch..." she heard the co- pilot mutter. 'What do you want?' asked the pilot, in a softer tone. Scully smiled inwardly: she had won a battle if not the war. 'Firstly, what happened to my partner. Do you know?' 'Is he the one we left tied up in the cellar?' 'Then we go back. How long have we been flying?' 'An hour." Flatly. "Won't have enough fuel...' 'Yeah, right. There's hours of flying time in a Chinook. Take me back. And hand over your guns.' Scully stared straight into his face, 'I may even let you go when we get there'. *************************************** With a last look of defiance,the pilot settled back down in his seat and brought the helicopter back around. Reluctant as he was, she was right. They did'nt dare lose this cargo if they could avoid it .....and the chance would come to overpower the woman when they landed. They would still have just enough fuel to get to their original destination too. And plenty of time to prepare their story as to how a team of heavily armed men had been hiding on board. Well - maybe they had better work on that one. ************************************** They took the place apart. Every nook, every crawl space that was possibly big enough to hide Scully's diminutive frame. The yard filled with police-cars. Men in dark suits moved purposefully through the outbuildings, clambered up into the eves, tramped through the acres of woods surrounding the farm. Nothing. "Then we search again." Mulder, almost swaying with exhaustion, leaned back for a moment against the barn wall where he had first been taken. "We search again" The head of the Armed Response Unit team turned to Phoebe Green and Matheson, flanking Mulder. "She's not here, sir. Further search'd be a waste of resources better deployed elsewhwere. We've put out an APB: notified the ports and airports. " Mulder's eyes glittered. "I said we fucking search *again*..." His voice was low, dangerous, as he leaned forward into the man's space. Phoebe stepped between them, giving Mulder a hard stare.. "Thank you, Inspector. We appreciate your efforts." The she turned and held Mulder's glare. "There's nothing more we can do here....." Mulder pushed past her and strode off back into the brilliantly- lit interior of the farmhouse. She followed to find him wildly pulling open the doors of all the kitchen units, tipping out the drawers and pulling over pots and pans in a glittering cascade on the floor.. "Mulder, Mulder....." Phoebe came up, circled him from behind in a tight embrace so that his arms were trapped at his side. "We'll find her, Mulder, but she's not here. We'll find her, though. Soon. I promise..." He was shaking , tried to shrug out of her arms, but she just held him tighter, pushed him down onto a chair, and stood behind him hands on his shoulders, thumbs digging into the tension in his neck..... --------- He gave a strangled sob. < Oh God, not again, Scully, not now.......>---------- From the yard came the sound of engines staring, then the whine of motors receding up the bumpy farm-track. "D.I.Green?" The ARU Inspector poked his head round the door, studiously not noticing that his superior officer was standing pressed against the FBI agent. "We're pulling out . The Senator asked me to tell you that he is leaving too, so...." Damn. She needed to go back with Matheson, it was so very important that she be with him right now, but Mulder looked like he was just about to fall apart. Phoebe sighed. What a time to develop sentitivity and a conscience. "Tell him five minutes, Joe. I'll see you back in Stoke Easton. Wire Agent Scully's description to all ports and airports - Mulder, do you have a photo of Scully?" Moving as a man underwater, Mulder stood up and pulled out his wallet from the back pocket of his jeans. Opening it, he picked out some photos and flicked through them. One of them was of a young girl with dark hair and dancing eyes, the print curling at the edges. His sister Samantha, Phoebe guessed. There were several of Agent Scully. Mulder looked at them, frozen. "Here." Phoebe plucked them from his fingers and flicked through them. "Take this one". She handed it to the Inspector who was still hovering at the door. "Fax it to the press...tell them it's urgent. To the Times, with a personal message to Dick Frane, the editor, that I want to see it on the front page. He owes me a favour." She handed the rest of the pictures back to Mulder as the Inspector left to deliver her messages and fax the details from his car. "Come back with us, Mulder, you need to sleep." "No." Mulder stood up. "I have to go." "Go where!" Phoebe's exasperation showed in her tone of voice. "People don't just disappear, Mulder...." Her voice died away in the intensity of his look, and she took a deep breath. "Look, I'm not really sure what the hell's going on with you right now, Mulder. She's *not* here, and there's no point in sticking around...." "That's absolutely right, Phoebe." Mulder's voice was flat. "You don't know what the hell's going on here. But if Scully's been taken again..." "Taken?" "....This is the only place there's any chance of a lead, something, anything..." From above came a thud...thudding. The old buildings started to shudder as the noise grew louder, deafening. "Christ! They're coming back!" A blinding light flared through the small kitchen window and Phoebe could see little. She felt Mulder grab at her arm, pull her out towards the yard, that light and the noise. Trying to shade her eyes she resisted , and he released her. "Mulder...come back..." She stumbled into the open after his dark shape in time to see a huge helicopter of a design she had never seen before setting down softly in the yard. Suddenly there was silence, and the searing light emanating from the undercarriage of the machine was cut. Moving over to Matheson who was slowly climbing back out of his car, a little distance from where Mulder stood gazing intently at the craft, Phoebe caught her breath as two men in khaki flying overalls clambered down from the vehicle, ducking slightly to avoid the slowly spinning rotors. "Put your hands behind your heads!" And holding a large gun on them, Special Agent Dana Scully followed them down onto the cobbled courtyard. **************************************** Safe, safe.....there was *Mulder* ...and all in one piece. . Scully felt her legs trembling, and tightened her grasp on the gun. It was nearly over. She glanced across at the small group of figures. Phoebe Green - good. And Matheson - better. "I've got a present for you, Senator," she called out. "Inspector Green, could you call for a squad car to take these men into custody. They should be charged with at least two counts of murder. And you should read them their rights. We need to do this by the book...." Scully stepped forward, gestured for the two men to move ...... "Agent Scully. Put down your weapon." What? Scully heard Mulder's gasp, and her posture stiffened. Weight balanced, gun in both hands, it took Scully a couple of seconds to process what she's heard. She raised her voice. "Sir these men have been engaged in testing this ..." she gestured briefly at the helicopter with her gun..." on the civilian population here. As such there actions have been unlawful and have resulted directly in the deaths of at least two......" Christ, was the man dense or something? Did he think she was standing here for the good of her health? "I said put down your gun, Agent Scully, and allow these men to leave." No way. She was not going to allow them to get away with this shit any more. Not after what they had done to her sister, to Mulder's sister. Not after stealing three months of her life. "No Sir!", she shouted. "I can't do that, Sir! They've got important information in there - documents that will prove what agent Mulder saw in New Mexico ! That could tell us what's in those files in West Virginia." "Agent Scully, you are working to me in this matter. I'm giving you a direct order. Put down your weapon." Matheson's voice was calm, reasonable. "Mulder! Don't let him do this! What ever the truth is, we'll find out from the stuff in those packing cases. " Scully could hear her own voice rising. "Hold on, Scully!" Mulder moved angrily toward the Senator. At the sound of Mulder's voice, Scully straightened, took a firm hold on herself. "Inspector Green," she called. "Please call for back-up. These men have committed serious crimes under your jurisdiction. They and their superiors must be held to account in a court of law." Scully glanced round at the Englishwoman, who stood silently her eyes on Matheson's face, her expression unreadable. *God, what's the matter with them*. "Phoebe for Christ's sake..." Mulder pushed the woman aside and reached for the two-way radio in the car. "Inspector Green," Matheson gave her a nod, "will not be calling for back-up, Agent Scully, as these men you are unlawfully holding have diplomatic immunity. As such they cannot be prosecuted..." "Bullshit!" Mulder interrupted fiercely. "Should you persist, however, Inspector Green will have no option but to request assistance to disarm you, and report for conduct to the appropriate authorities for prosecution and disciplinary action." Scully laughed mockingly. "Report me? It'll be worth it. At least I'll know. At least Mulder will know." Matheson stepped forward. "I really, *really -* didn't want it to come to this, Agent Scully." He held a standard-issue Sig Sauer P226 in clear view. "You have no choice. None of us have a choice." There was an unmistakable bitterness in his tone. "Sometimes we have to lose the battles in order to win the war. Now put the gun down, and let those *gentlemen* remove themselves and their helicopter. " "Christ...you too...." Scully heard the anguish in Mulder's voice, and rage burned deep in her bones. But the fucking bastard held all the cards. Her mind raced through the possibilities - taking the men and the helicopter at gun point - where to? Ridiculous - completely non-viable. Even Mulder couldn't get away with that. "Scully. Scully, do as he says." She looked into Mulder's eyes and saw her own emotions reflected there. The prick was right. This was a battle they were going to lose. But she's get the bastard one day for doing this to Mulder. She lowered her gun arm. "Drop the weapon, Agent Scully." Quite deliberately slowly, Scully unclipped the magazine from the gun and slipped the ammunition into her pocket. Then she released the weapon so that it fell onto the ground with clatter. "Gentlemen." Matheson addressed the two men in grey. "You may leave. " The taller man stepped forward to retrieve the weapon...then brought it up in a swift blur to smash Scully hard on the side of her face, the force of the blow sending her spinning to the ground, hot pain crashing through her cheekbone, her head, as the world span to a dizzying, merciful dark. *************************************** >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> Subject: So Shall You Reap 14 >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> DAY 6: MONDAY. Monday 27th May Too many hospitals. Too many times like this. Usually he was the one waking in pain and sometimes shame to Scully's tired face. But he'd had his share of watching too. He sat beside the bed, clasping her hand lightly, as she lay in a shallow sleep. They had brought her by ambulance to the hospital in Yeovil, the same one Annelise Matheson had been taken to. She had been conscious but dazed throughout the short journey, and Mulder had refused to let her talk about what had just happened, but shushed her gently with his mouth on hers, soothing her as best he could with his touch when she became restless with pain. Now he had time to think. Hell, he couldn't help but think. For a moment the sense of betrayal threatened to overwhelm him. The shock of seeing Matheson - a man he had regarded as an ally - holding a gun on Scully. Okay, not holding it *on* Scully, he conceded. But just holding it was enough. In the frantic moments after the attack on Scully, when Mulder squatted at her side cradling her head in his arms, with the roaring of the Chinook still ringing in his ears, he had been too preoccupied to care about the man. Then the paramedics arrived, and pulled her gently from his grasp to roll her into the stretcher, and Mulder had heard Matheson saying to them: "Will she be all right?" ...and he had lost it. Right then. Had slammed the bigger man back into the wall with a violent push and pinned him there, hissing words with controlled venom. "You'd better pray she *is* all right, you bastard, or God help me......" "If it'll make you feel better, Fox, go ahead." Mulder had let him go suddenly, so that he slumped back against the brickwork. "Just tell me why. Why bring me over here for this - this charade. Don't you understand...those were the men responsible for what happened to your wife." He was shouting now. "It's over, Mulder. It doesn't matter any more. We're done here. Annelise is dead - she died an hour ago. I was in my car driving over here because they'd told me that you'd been found. The hospital rang my mobile and told me she was dead. And now you and Agent Scully must write your report and go home." The older man's voice was steady, emotionless, but Mulder saw his hands tremble. "There won't be any more damage here." "But you let them *go*." "Agent Mulder," said Matheson wearily, "You're in no mood for this now. Come and see me tomorrow. Bring me a report that I can accept. We'll talk about it - talk about your future - tomorrow. Agent Scully needs you now...." he had gestured to the ambulance, and Mulder had turned from him and boarded the ambulance without looking back. Scully's eyelids fluttered, and her leaned forward to hear her mumble, "My face hurts. Get them to give me the good stuff, Mulder." He gave her fingers a squeeze. "No can do. Not until the guy in the white coat comes back with the x-ray and scan results. " They'd cleaned off most of the blood, though her hairline was still matted and sticky. The discoloration of the right side of her face was rapidly changing from livid red to purplish, and a patch of hair just above her temple had been shaved to allow the doctor to insert six neat stitches. "You don't look so great yourself," Scully muttered crossly. Oops, Mulder grinned. Caught staring again. "Hey, it suits you, Red. You should wear purple more often." "Bastard." But Scully's mouth twitched upwards a fraction. A little later she roused again. " My jacket, Mulder....." It was hard for her to talk: her face was stiff. "Look in my jacket pocket." He looked searched the cubicle, then shrugged. "Sorry, Scully. It's not here. The paramedics took it off you when they were fixing the monitors on you. Maybe it got left behind at the farm. I'll ask Phoebe to find out." He leaned over her, stroked the good side of her face. It wasn't a fractured skull, there wasn't any sign of concussion, just a painful and now rapidly-swelling cracked cheekbone, the doctor was finally able to advise them. Actually, Mulder felt a bit sorry for the guy. First of all Scully had demanded a mirror to inspect the stitches, then she'd told him she had no intention of staying in hospital for the night and had written him a short list of the medications she wanted to take with her. After a brief tussle of wills - mainly, Mulder suspected, a matter of professional dignity on the part of the doctor, since the poor man looked half-dead on his feet and was probably at the end of a sixty hour shift, not to mention that the hospital could undoubtedly use the bed-space - Scully had signed a release, and they walked out into the misty darkness. It was either very late, or very very early depending on your point of view. In the taxi back to their hotel, Scully fell asleep leaning against him - they'd finally given her the good stuff. Mulder smiled and put his arm round her shoulders. When they arrived he woke her enough to walk her up to the room, laid her down on the bed. The lovely, four poster bed with the cream linen. Carefully he stripped off her shirt and her jeans. She helped him shrug off her T-shirt, just conscious enough to wriggle when he directed. What the hell - after all they'd been through? He searched through the cupboard drawers until he found the nightdress - the one she had worn on the first night, when she was waiting for him like a bride for her beloved. Carnal lust is not appropriate under these circumstances he told himself sternly and not entirely successfully as he removed her bra. Christ, she looked so soft, so voluptuous. Almost involuntarily he ran his hand lightly across her breast, cupping its warm weight. Scully's hips shifted as she sighed into his touch. She was so vulnerable, so utterly trusting. Taking a deep breath, he pulled her forward, and slid the nightdress with the utmost care over her bruised face and down onto her shoulders and arms.Then he rested her back and lifted her torso enough to slip the hem of the garment down to cover her to her ankles. Turning the lights out, he slid into the bed next to her. ****************************************** Scully woke finally in the middle of the afternoon: maybe it was the aroma of the chicken soup Mulder had ordered for her which roused her. She studied her face in the bathroom mirror to assess the damage. Pressing the flesh around the wound lightly with her fingertips she concluded that it could have been a lot worse - sore, but not unbearable. Rainbow-hued for a few days, though, she grimaced. Brushing her teeth hurt, too. She applied enough make-up to cover the worst of the damage, more on her eyes and lips than usual to distract attention from the bruising, and went out to find Mulder sprawled on the couch, surrounded by papers, laptop humming on the coffee-table. He looked up. "I was just coming to wake you. Lunch is served." "Mmmm.....chicken soup. You have some?" "Ate a while back. Been trying to write this report.Lets get out of this place as soon as we can." His tone was dry, and he didn't look at her again. Scully spooned down the watery broth. Better than nothing - maybe. At least she didn't have to chew it. "Have you spoken to the Senator today? Did Phoebe find my jacket" "No and yes. The jacket's over there." Scully said a silent prayer as she lifted it. If only.....but the paper was gone. Oh, but it would have been something for Mulder. She took a deep breath. Okay, let's try again. "How are we going to do this, Mulder. What are we going to put in our report....the truth? Or..." "Right," Mulder interrupted. "And what might that be? Come on, Scully, nobody here's interested in 'the truth' - even if the two of us could agree about what it was." Scully laid her spoon down neatly. She knew this mood of his, depressed and bitter. It happened at the end of some of their cases, those where evidence had been snatched right out of their hands, leaving no tangible proof , nothing to substantiate Mulder's theories. The last time it had happened they had quarreled bitterly about the train-car experiments, about the bodies in the pit which Scully had seen in Virginia - living human experiments or human/alien hybrids? They had been at odds with eachother for weeks - Scully knowing in her heart that the basis of his anger was his failure once again to keep hold of concrete evidence which he believed he had seen, but hurt at the extent to which he seemed prepared to exorcise his own demons by attacking her, and by shutting her out of his life. And then those awful cases in New England and the damned gargoyles...... she shook her head slightly. Ouch - mistake. "Well, but for our own satisfaction, Mulder." She stood up and caught sight of her reflection in a small mirror hanging above the ornamental fireplace. "I'll work on my account of what happened yesterday afternoon, and I'll look over yours . Then we can combine them into a final draft with what you've already got." She walked back through the bedroom and into the bathroom. "You won't *like* what I've already got, Scully". The sound of the water running into the basin drowned out any further comments Mulder might've made. Her cheek throbbed as she rubbed the foundation off the inflamed flesh, and then scrubbed at her eyes and lips. This time she didn't even try to disguise the bruising, applying only the light make-up she normally wore, then went back out to join Mulder. "Shift," she ordered, forcing him to scoot along the couch so that she could sit next to him. . Mulder glanced at her as she sat down, and then looked back, studying her more intently. "Hey Scully, that chicken soup's worked wonders. You look much better already. You looked really rough when you first came in." Scully couldn't help herself. She grinned at him even though it made her face hurt and reached out to rap the top of his head very lightly with her fist. "What?" His look was one of genuine bemusement, and Scully grinned at him again. "Mulder" She gave him The Look. "Stop making me laugh." And this time he smiled back at her, his posture more relaxed, affection shining in his eyes. "I think that bump on the head must have done more damage than we thought!" Then of his own volition her passed to her the notes he had been working on. Without thinking, she pulled her reading glasses out of their case which was lying on the coffee table, and shoved them on. "Y-ouch" "O-oh..." Mulder mouthed in sympathy. "That bad, huh?" "Maybe if I -" Scully gingerly lifted the spectacles off, "If I balanced them down on the end of my nose............." "Red, your nose is so small it's *all* end. If you move them further down they'll fall off!" Mulder snickered at his own wit. "Oh, right. We're insulting noses now are we." Scully crossed her arms and sat back. "People in glass houses, Mulder...." He leaned forward, so close to her that she could feel his warm breath tickle her as his whispered in her ear, "Hmm, but you know what they say about men's noses and feet Agent Scully." "Maybe I should do some research right now, Agent Muld....." Her voice trailed off in puzzlement as he pulled back at her words. Fighting to control a twinge of hurt and disappointment at the abrupt termination of their flirting, Scully bit her lip and picked up again his report. "Here." He took it from her. "I'll read it to you. I don't want you to strain your eyes, if you can't wear your glasses." And he moved back to her again so that they were touching from the shoulder down. What was with him? Scully frowned a little as he began with a recitation of the facts which had brought them to England. Then she sighed, and relaxed against him. Such a complex man. ".....That's one of the main reasons they *came* here, Scully," Mulder reiterated, exasperated. "That's why such an important project was developed on foreign soil! It was an opportunity to examine at first hand and in action alien technology, and to measure up the best that we could create against them -" "Mulder, there's no evidence *whatsoever* for what you suggest." "What about the documents you saw in that helicopter? What about those helicopters? " "Nothing I saw or read was proof of alien involvement. I can't say to you that it excluded it, but I didn't have time to look. Yes there were references to West Virginia - to the tests on me, on Duane Barry. And yes - " Scully squeezed Mulder's arm gently, "- I thought I saw your sister's name in one of the documents. But it was too dark too see properly, I can't be sure...." "And now we'll never have the chance to confirm it. " The bitterness was back in Mulder's voice. They had been arguing about the report for hours. It had grown dark outside and they were no nearer to agreement than they had been when Mulder had started. "Mulder do you *really* want to hand a report to Matheson saying that the US government has been based here for the last ten years developing secret helicopter technology, using it to chase the UFO's which according to your theory commonly buzz this part of England? And that it has systematically and quite deliberately eliminated by causing apparent accidents any citizens who might have been able to give first hand descriptions of these activities? There's absolutely no evidence to support any of this!" Scully's incredulous tone made Mulder lose his temper. "Damnit, Scully, you're going to let them get away with it again! Coming up with some so-called 'rational' scientific explanation! You do their work for them.....just like after that train business. You believe all their lies - anything, rather than to face the truth." "The truth? You think it's the 'truth' that Annelise Matheson and her son had a very close encounter with a UFO, and that a US helicopter flew so close to their car that it crashed, killing the driver, and that US personnel then abducted her and her son, drugged them and then nearly a day later deposited them fifteen miles away on a hillside so that no-one would believe them about the UFO? Even those crop-circle nuts don't believe that! They said the crop circles were poor fakes!" "Can't you see - ever heard of hiding in plain sight? *One* of them was real enough. The craft Mrs Matheson saw made it. And there wasn't enough time that night after the incident to destroy all traces so it had to be hidden another way - by surrounding it with fakes! The project must have really thought that the shit was going to hit the fan when the helicopter radioed back the license plate of the vehicle which had been spotted in contact with the alien craft -" "Come on, Mulder! " Scully took a deep breath. "What about the radiation?" "What about the scopolamine in Jonathan's blood?" Mulder countered. "We know they use that stuff. Just like in Wisconsin." "Okay. I agree that Mrs Matheson and Jonathan were abducted - by those people we met yesterday. I can even accept that they dosed them up with hallucinogens and ditched them later so that no-one would ever believe what they said. They stumbled across *something*, Mulder - but not a UFO - government tests!" "Christ, Scully, not again!" "Radiation tests, just like the others in the USA. Just like those people I saw in..........." "The ones that were so conveniently gone when we went back -" "Tests on an unsuspecting civilian population of a new radiation weapon in their secretly developed helicopter they kept stashed at that farm. All those people had been subjected to a massive dose of radiation. Jonathan Matheson was lucky that it killed his cancer - a side effect that they didn't expect." "Then why bother to save Annelise Matheson and her son? If they were going to die anyway? The project leader *told* me they didn't kill her, that what was happening to her was nothing to do with him." "Well they would say that now, wouldn't they?" Scully shook her head. "I don't know why they went through the charade with Matheson's wife, Mulder. Maybe they were panicked when they first found out who they'd used as test subjects. But I can't think of any other explanation for the radiation. And we know that the government has conducted such experiments in the past. It's a matter of record." "How is it that you can believe apparently without question that the governments of the US and the UK could condone such depraved tests on their own populace, but you can't open your mind to the idea that we are not alone?" Mulder stood up and stretched, fetched a glass of water. He moved over to look out of the window, staring into the blackness at the night sky pinpricked with stars. "I think they're just curious, Scully." "Who?" Scully was confused. "The ones who come. The aliens. They want to see how we work - so they look at us. Inside. Maybe they don't even realize the effects what they do - the radiation they use - has on us." He spoke quietly now. "I've read reports before just like Mrs Matheson's - a woman in Puerto Rico....." Scully joined him to look into the dark. After a while she said softly, "I don't find it hard to believe in human evil, Mulder. I've seen so much of it in these last years. I don't need to look outside this earth for the cause of wickedness." Mulder looked down at her with a soft, sad half-smile. She linked her arm in his, but he didn't relax against her. "We're never going to agree about this." "About so much, Scully." He looked away again. So - what were they going to do? And not just about the report to Matheson. Could they argue like this, fiercely, intellectually, passionately disagree, and yet still be lovers? They had managed to do all that and still be friends. There was no report they could both put their names to. And, hell, Matheson didn't want the truth, whichever version it might me. His wife was dead. She wouldn't be embarrassing him any more, Scully thought with sudden bitterness. She had liked the woman. So - if he wouldn't concur with either version as being politically acceptable, what was the point? "I think we should tell him to shove his report." Now he did lean into her. "Where the sun don't shine." "Would you like to tell him, or shall I, Agent Mulder?" He turned and took her loosely in his arms, resting his chin on top of her head. "I'd like that pleasure, Agent Scully." Scully tilted her head to look up at him. He looked so very tired, shut off from her again. "Time for bed, Mulder." "O-oh, is that an invitation?" But Scully could tell that the reply was automatic. His heart wasn't in it. She pulled his head down and brushed his lips with hers. "It's whatever you want it to be. But just let me hold you tonight. We'll think about the rest " - and they both knew she wasn't just referring to the report - "tomorrow." >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> Subject: So Shall You Reap 15 >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> DAY SEVEN. Tuesday 28th May Scully awoke to find herself alone next morning. The sun was streaming through the flimsy curtains, and she could hear Mulder moving about in the outer room. She closed her eyes again and sighed in frustration. If Mulder had wanted her to waken with him in bed this morning he could have made it so. There were ways - and such a pleasant rousing it would have been. Depression settled softly like dust over her mood. They were going to go back to Washington with nothing resolved. One more experience they would dance around and skitter away from discussing. One more experience which should have brought them together, opened them up to eachother, was driving them again to silence. Bound together in a common purpose......those words echoed in Scully's mind and sounded half-familiar. But they were bound back- to-back: unable to escape the powerful ties which kept them together, drawing warmth and comfort from eachother's presence, but unable to reach the intimacy that such closeness promised. She heard Mulder enter the room, heard the faint rattle of crockery .. She lay curled up on her side, totally relaxed. The mattress shifted as Mulder sat down next to her, and then gentle fingers began stroking her hair. "Wake up, sleepyhead." Involuntarily she shifted slightly into his touch, and then his warmth leaned into her, she felt his breath on the side of her face as he trailed his lips up her cheek, ever so delicately across her bruised face, to begin lightly nipping her ear-lobe. "Wake up, Dana." His voice was low and soft, breath tickling her skin as he whispered so close It was too much...too much what she wanted: instinct prevailed as she rolled onto her back grazing her face across his to find his mouth with hers. Abruptly she felt him pull back from her and her eyes flew open. She felt absurdly close to tears. "Breakfast's getting cold." Mulder sat , dressed already in his jeans and T-shirt, watching her with an unreadable look in his eyes. He gestured to a tray, waiting on the bedside table. Scully pushed herself up to a sitting position. "Breakfast in bed?" She regarded him quizzically "Do we have time for this? What time does our flight leave?" "We have time. But there's business to take care of this morning, and somewhere I want to show you today before we go home. So come on - sit up and eat." He sat the tray on its little legs across her lap, then whipped off the salvers with a waiter's flourish. "Jesus, Mulder - if I eat all this I won't be able to move for the rest of the day!" "Happy to help you out..... Scoot over." He settled on the bed, on top of the duvet and covers, sitting back against the headboard. Eventually Scully leaned against him with a sigh. "Can't manage another thing. And what was that ...." She prodded with her fork an odd-looking fried substance - a dark brown pattie with white lumps. "I did have a piece," she said quickly, "but I'm curious to know what exactly it is." "Did you like it?" "Mulder!" She twisted, and punched him lightly on the arm. " No I didn't like it, okay? Now - what was it?" "Called 'black pudding', Scully." "Fine. Are you going to tell me more, or should I book an autopsy bay for further investigation," she said in mock irritation "You *would* have fun, Agent Scully..... Okay!" He held his hands up in surrender. "It's an English speciality. To set the day off right. Made of pig's blood mixed with cereal. That's why it's that dark rust colour. The blood. Like a sort of blood sausage." He grinned at her, that goddamned boyish grin that made her heart flip, and her mood lifted "Mulder," she replied with dignity, "you are *disgusting*". Mulder eased himself off the bed, took the tray from her lap and padded over to the casement window. "Come here." He turned and held his hand out. An early morning haze still clung over the fields, but the sun had begun to burn it off already so that it merely clung to the stream which meandered through the small meadow. Willows arched gracefully from both banks: all was dainty, neat, lush. It was going to be a scorching day. "It's lovely," she sighed, clasping his fingers lightly, pleased when he pulled her to his side. They stood together in silence for a long minute. "Too bad I haven't had time to see a bit more." She shrugged, and the tone of her voice was philosophical. "I guess that's always the way for us." And Mulder squeezed her fingers briefly. "We'll see what we can do today." Then he seemed to shift gear, and spun her round, spanking her lightly on her backside. "Time to get rollin' , G'woman! I'll start the packing." "Muld-er". Scully stood in the doorway between the bathroom and the bedroom.. She was dressed in her bra and panties , a matching red silk set from Victoria's Secret which Missy had given to her, two birthdays ago, 'to hot up your love life, Dana.' Mulder didn't appear to notice. Her dripping hair fell round her face as she rubbed at it with a towel. The bruised cheek was less inflamed, even though the contusion was darker and showed up more. She had decided to try again at disguising it, though with a less heavy hand than the day before. Mulder had already finished packing his own case - he was quick and careful at the task - and hers was open and ready on the bed next to his. She regarded him thoughtfully for a moment. "You're looking awfully informal today, Mulder. Not that I'm complaining," she added hastily. ", but we still have to go see Matheson." "He's not going to be happy with what we have to say, and quite frankly I don't give a damn any more what he thinks of me. The good politician, Scully, will just have to take us as he finds us." "The trouble is, " Scully moved over to her wardrobe, and scanned the scanty collection of clean garments, "That he's going to have to find *me* in this." She held up her red suit. "I never did get the chance to put any dry-cleaning in. I only brought one pair of jeans and they got filthy the other night. We're going to look like the Odd Couple." She hung the offending suit on the door. "Oh hell!" "What?" Mulder started to lay carefully in her suitcase the remaining items from her wardrobe. "I haven't even got a clean top." She stood staring into the open drawer as if she couldn't quite believe it. "Just wear the suit without one then." Mulder was very matter-of- fact. Disturbingly so. This wasn't like him at all. Where was the leer, the smart comments - Lord knows there was an opening for them here, Scully thought sadly. It that what we've lost? Well, they say you don't know what you've got till it's gone. She straightened her back. "Okay." Her voice sounded high and unnatural to her own ears. While she finished dressing and applied her make-up - a more subtle version of the previous day's attempt - Mulder finished packing her case. She stood examining the finished effect in the long bedroom mirror. Normally she wore this red suit with a black cotton top and without it, as she moved, the lapels of the jacket gaped revealing her bra. And what exactly would Matheson - and Lord help us Phoebe Green - make of such a display? "I need a safety pin. Have you got a safety pin, Mulder?" "Of course." He knew exactly where to find one amongst his belongings. "Want any help fixing it?" His heart didn't sound in it, but Scully didn't care. "Yes. Look, I'll hold the lapels in position, and you fix the pin....no, *not* like that, Mulder - so you can't see it - you'll have to pin it from the inside..." "Uh, wouldn't it be easier if *I* held the jacket together and you -" "No it would not," she said, irritated. "I wouldn't be able to see what I was doing......what are you doing Mulder?" He had moved behind her, was leaning over her shoulder, fixing the pin from behind, his fingers warm on the exposed skin of her neck and chest, his lips pursed in concentration and eyes dark. She watched their reflections in the long mirror. "All done!" He looked up and smiled at her in the mirror, but as his eyes drifted over her he pursed his lips. "Are those the only shoes you've got?" Scully looked at her black pumps. They went fine with the black top she usually wore with this suit. "What's wrong with them?" "Did you bring any sandals?" Scully crossed her arms and glared at him. "No I did not. I didn't bring my string bikini, either. Since when did you become the fashion critic?" "It's just that those aren't really suitable...oh well. Lets go and get this over with. All ready to check out?" Scully nodded and picked up her purse and laptop. Mulder carried her suitcase as well as his own and she took his laptop. It was just one of those things he always did: Scully knew that he didn't do it to patronize her, but because he was innately a gentleman. Whatever that meant. She took a last look around their suite. Nothing left behind; once they had walked out of this room there would be no reminder at all of what had happened between them. Her depression deepened. "Hey Scully, did I say that you look totally hot? You should go for that style more often..." Her face split into her widest smile.... ".....If only Frohike could see you now!" Scully slammed the door behind her ********************************************* "Agent Mulder.....Fox." Matheson held out his hand .Mulder ignored the polite gesture, and Matheson continued smoothly, "I hope you're recovered from your short stay in the hospital, Agent Scully." Annelise was dead, but Jonathan was getting better. It was a trade-off, and one that Richard Matheson found it hard to feel guilty about. It hadn't been of his choosing - he was glad he hadn't been called on the make such a choice. He felt, in fact, quite buoyant, wondered if it was some kind of delayed shock. But everything seemed to be falling into place. The problem of Annelise was solved. He could be a dignified, bereaved candidate now, not one with a half-mad wife and a very demanding mistress. "You have a field report for me?" "No sir." Scully stepped forward, chin up., and Matheson thought he caught a brief flash of - what - surprise? irritation? on the male agent's face. "No?". Scully glowed like a jewel against the dark-paneled walls. "You would've had no use for the report we were going to write, sir, so there seemed little point in going to the effort of producing it for you." Matheson looked at her: she certainly was a formidable woman. The sight of her emerging from that helicopter holding the project pilots at gunpoint - he wouldn't forget that in a hurry. And now standing here sexy as hell......and with that mouth, those lips ..... "I'm sure you'll think of something - convenient - to explain it's lack to A.D.Skinner in Washington," she continued. "And I'm *quite sure* , sir, that there won't be any difficulties for Agent Mulder or the X-Files over it's absence, since should the details of what actually happened here become available at any time it might prove uncomfortable for some of your friends....." "Not my friends, Agent Scully." "Re-ally." She turned to the door, and Mulder glanced at her, eyebrows raised. " Well, you and Agent Mulder have some things to discuss. I suggest you explain that to him. Good day, sir." And Matheson smiled. She was the bad guy: the one with the threats. Left Mulder free to make his peace with him, if that was what he wanted. He certainly didn't seem too happy about it now. Agent Scully had obviously taken him by surprise. It took Mulder a couple of beats to understand what Scully was doing, why she had taken the initiative when they had decided that he was to be the one to tell Matheson what to do with his report. The two men faced eachother. The sense of betrayal which had swept over Fox Mulder when he had heard Richard Matheson order Scully to let the pilots and their information go had merged with all those other betrayals of his life into the dull ache he carried with him always. He was damned if he was going to speak first. "I had no choice, Fox." Mulder shrugged, insolently, deliberately. "It was all over, anyway. 'They' promised that. No more deaths. " "And what about justice? What about the truth?" "Don't be so naive." Matheson crossed to his desk, lit a cigarette and inhaled deeply. "Gave it up six years ago," he said inconsequentially. "Bad for the political image." Then, "And do you think you *know* what the truth is, Agent Mulder. I doubt that, and I seriously doubt whether the American people would care to know what their government had to do in their name. I don't like it any more than you do." What was the point in replying? Silence stretched out between them. Let the man justify if he could. "After the telephone call about my wife, I received another from - shall we say a mutual acquaintance. He told me what to do about you - about the set-up at Maiden Beech, its necessity. He assured me that my co-operation in a satisfactory outcome to the situation would ensure my future success I'm sure you know what that means, Agent Mulder.......for both of us. " Matheson stubbed out his cigarette. "In four years' time, I'll be President. Then you'll have your truth." Mulder turned on his heels. "If you really believe that, then you're the one who's naive, not me." And with savage pleasure, he slammed shut the door behind him. ************************************** It sure hadn't taken her long to step into Annelise Matheson's shoes. Scully regarded Phoebe Green with a grudging admiration. Glad as she was that Mulder and the woman had come to some peace in their relationship, Scully still despised and disliked her for the pain she had occasioned him in the past. But the woman positively glowed. Just as Mulder marched out of Matheson's study, Phoebe came into view shepherding David Matheson along the corridor. So-o...she's managed to snare the Ambassador. Well, at least it'll keep her off the streets. "Fox!" Phoebe sidled up to him knowingly, for effect, Scully was sure, giving Mulder a peck on the cheek as Richard Matheson came silently into the hall. "Time to say goodbye - Fee." Scully raised an eyebrow at him, and Mulder grinned back. "She always hated being called Fee - didn't you?" Mulder turned to Phoebe Green, . Actually, she didn't look as if she hated anything or anyone. The metamorphosis was astonishing. You could actually have taken her for a real human being with a heart, Scully thought cynically. "Fox was always unfair. How could he possibly have got the idea that I was mercenary, Agent Scully?" They were both talking through Scully, but the teasing banter between Mulder and this woman was new to Dana. Maybe it was new to Mulder, too - he actually looked as if he were enjoying it. "We're off now, Phoebe." "Thought your plane wasn't till this evening, Mulder?" "Places to go - people to see! Wish I could say it'd been a pleasure." Mulder moved to embrace the tall, slender woman. She held him off at arm's length for a beat, and they looked at eachother. "Friends?" "Friends." He kissed her cheek, then released her. Phoebe stepped forward. "Agent Scully - Dana - goodbye"...and before Scully realised what was happening, the taller woman hugged her, too. "Congratulations," she whispered into Scully's hair. "And to you too," Scully murmured, pleased to note surprise and then sly admiration on the older woman's face as they stepped apart. ******************************************* Scully glanced up at the Tor shimmering in the heat as Mulder reversed into a parking-space they had been lucky to find in Glastonbury's busy High Street. Tuesday was market day. "This is where it all began." "We're not here for the case, Scully. I just need to pick something up." He cut the engine. "You wait here -I won't be long." Scully shook her head. It would be way too stuffy in the small car, even with the windows open. "Not the case," she said, as Mulder steered her across the busy little street, "The Arthurian legend. Look at all this stuff!" She pulled him to a halt outside a low-fronted shop , windows filled with crystals and books entitled 'Avalon Revisited' and "Ley-Lines in History", incense-holders and pottery models of grotesque dragons and weird castles. Mulder looked up at the purple sign above the window. "Bilbo Baggins? Ah, I didn't realize he was one of the Knights of the Round Table," he said. "Want to go in?" Scully shook her head, but Mulder persisted. "Since we're here - how about buying you some sandals." He pulled in her to the shop. The tang of patchouli oil assailed her; the dark interior of the shop glowed with the rich colours of Anokhi print dresses , cheesecloth tops and skirts, brightly-coloured t-shirts. "No - Mulder, I..." But he had moved to the back and didn't hear her, gesturing to row upon row of hand-painted boots and shoes ranked along the rear wall. And indeed they were lovely. Beautifully wrought. 'Hand Made on the premises' said a notice.. The leather was smooth and cool under Scully's fingers. Pastel colours, painted with stylized astrological figures, baroque suns, rainbows. She picked up a pair of thonged sandals, simpler than many of the other designs, but still unusual; red and gold threaded like marble. "Just try them ......?" Mulder stood very close to her, almost protective, almost pleading. This place. Scully felt a little breathless. "Okay." She sat down, and Mulder knelt in front of her, slipped off her shoe, and slid the sandal onto her foot, lacing the leather thongs round her calves with warm fingers. "And the other one. Is that too tight?" She shook her head, shifting position, allowing him access to her other foot. "Are they comfortable?" Mulder pulled her to her feet, didn't let go of her fingers. Scully wiggled her toes. "They seem fine." Finally she looked up at him and smiled. "They're fine, Mulder - I'm just not sure they go with the suit....." They both stood, looking at her reflection in the shop's cheval mirror. "Okay...." He sounded as if he were considering the problem,. "Well then....." Pulling one of the dresses from a rack he held it in front of her. "Go and try this then." It was blue, cornflower blue, cerulean blue even, Scully thought a little crazily, covered with little red blossoms. She really wanted to get out of this shop, away from this familiar scent, but she knew that look on Mulder's face. And it * was* going to be very hot today, and she would be uncomfortable in the suit jacket even without a blouse. She looked back at the mirror again. She had really never been the flowery type. She bit down hard on her lip. Melissa would have looked lovely in this. She had been so pretty, as well as beautiful. The same flame hair, but not straight - preRaphaelite curls. The same pale skin - but never went freckled in the sun. Slimmer, taller, vivacious. Not small and plain. Not with a too-pointed chin and a nose which didn't fit her face. Dana Scully looked in the mirror, but it was her sister's face she saw. Wildly, she reached out and grabbed a cotton top from the rail. "This, I'll take this. Is there anywhere to get changed?" She was shown to a little cubicle with heavy drapes on three sides as walls. She stripped off her hose and laced the sandals back up again, then shrugged into the cream top. . It fitted snugly - more snugly than she would normally go for. Little cap sleeves. And cropped. Damn, she hadn't noticed that when she'd snatched it off the rail. The drapes moved. "I like it." Mulder's voice was husky as he stepped in. The space was very small: they stood touching, and Scully had to lean back a little to look up at him. "You have good taste, Dr Scully." She was mesmerised by his smoky voice, by the darkness of his eyes - all pupil now. He slid one arm round her shoulder,with his other hand traced a finger lightly across her exposed belly. "Very good taste." And slowly, agonisingly slowly, he bent down and kissed her, lightly at first, and then as she responded, more passionately. She felt herself pushed firmly back against the mirrored wall, the glass cool to her heated flesh. They ground against eachother, frenzied again now, his hands roaming over her belly, down between her legs, up under the little cotton top as she lost herself in the strength, the maleness of him...... "Is everything all right in there?" They pulled apart at the sound of the shop-owner's voice. "Uh..mmmm...fine, thanks." Scully's voice was a little breathless, shaky. She looked at Mulder for a long second: he smiled lazily back at her still holding her lightly arm round one shoulder, combing his fingers through her now-tousled hair with his free hand. Mulder pulled the curtain and stepped out. "We'll take them." ******************************** Jayne stopped fanning herself with her book when the couple walked in. Carefully marking the place with a Dante Gabriel Rossetti bookmark she had borrowed from stock, she swivelled on her stool and watched them. Something about them set them apart from the general run of customers coming to Glastonbury Romantics. She wanted to be a writer, prided herself on being observant. The man, dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, moved over to where she was sitting behind the counter. Mmm, nice bum, quirky face - *lovely* eyes. The woman followed him, a little irresolutely.. "Not your usual kind of place," she heard her mutter. The woman was stunning. Short, like herself, and slight. Burnished, copper hair like a curtain framing her face, all pale skin and blue eyes. "May I help you?" Jayne smiled at them "I've come to pick up a picture. Name's Mulder." Mulder - a German - no Dutch - name. But the accent was an American. Jayne pulled out from a drawer under the counter a large notebook, and began working her way up through the last manuscript entries. "Ah, yes. Actually it came in on Saturday....you're lucky we haven't shipped it off to your American address already. She slipped out to the dark back room to find the picture. She could hear the two of them murmuring as she searched through the piles of cardboard-wrapped prints of various sizes stacked up for collection or dispatch. She found the one she wanted - 'Mulder' written in large, black felt-pen on the brown paper wrapping. When she returned, they were standing, arms linked, grinning over a collection of old photographs framed in pastel boards. "A little something for Frohickey, perhaps?" She couldn't quite catch the name, but the man picked up several of the pictures and held them at arms length, pretending to study them seriously. Edwardian ladies in corsets and garters cavorted in sepia in ones and twos, draped themselves around chairs, even stood plumply wrapped in large white towels as if they had just that minute stepped out of tin baths. The woman disentangled herself from his arm, laughing, and reached out to snatch them from him, but he was much taller than she , and held them out of her reach. "Give him one of those and you'll really encourage him.". The woman crossed her arms across her chest and gave him a look. It just made him laugh more, and he bent over, kissing her on the nose, and slipping the pictures back into the stack. Before she was caught staring, Jayne carried the package to the counter. "Here it is! If you'd just like to check....." She began to peel off the corrugated paper from round the picture, held it with its back to her so that the couple could see it clearly. "Yep, that's fine." Mulder moved forward. "You can package it so I can carry it home?" The woman stepped up to the picture and tapped it lightly with her fingertip,, an amused and slightly surprised expression on her face. Nope - no ring. Not on honeymoon then. "You never cease to amaze me, Mulder." She shook her head. "I never would've figured her for your type." Leaning towards him, she murmured, just in Jayne's hearing, "If she dropped a few pounds and most of her clothes maybe-" "My goodness!" Jayne had turned the picture round to wrap it again, catching sight of the subject matter for the first time. In a simple pale aqua wooden frame with echoing tint in the surround, the picture itself showed a young woman in a cream, draped gown and shawl. She sat on a marble bench, dark luxuriant bushes behind her, holding a spray of pale yellow blossoms from one of the plants negligently under her chin , entirely self-contained and totally engrossed in the book which was open on her lap. Her features were classical: oval face with a long chin, straight nose, full lips. Her hair, a rich rust, was parted in the centre and pulled back loosely into her nape. She looked up at the woman, stunned. "This looks just like you!" And then to cover her confusion as the woman turned to the man with glowing eyes she said, "I wish my best friend Sally was here....she believes in reincarnations...have you ever tried past-life hypnotic regression -" The man almost snatched the picture off the counter - "I haven't finished wrapping it yet!" she called, but they were already half way out of the door. ************************************ >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> Subject: So Shall You Reap 16 (end) >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> She was a witch. But in her own, very special way. And he didn't think she really knew it herself. Fox Mulder leaned into the pole and propelled the punt forward another six feet. He wanted their next time to be slow, languorous, memorable. And also, he had a plan for the day. So he had restrained himself that morning when all he really wanted to do was shove Dana Scully back down on the bed and fuck her till they both throbbed with pleasure. And he had nearly lost it altogether in that shop. Now she lay at the other end of the punt, one arm over the side, fingers trailing in the water, with that cool little half-smile of hers, watching him. "I like to see you working, Mulder." Her voice was throaty, low. The River Thames runs through Oxford, along the backs of the colleges and then out across the fields, down and away for thirty miles until it becomes the main artery at the heart of London. . On several occasions already the pole had got stuck and they had nearly lost it as the punt had begun to drift away. Now Mulder steered the craft as best he could towards the bank, bumping it gently and tying the rope loosely around a convenient willow which dipped its long green fingers into the water. He moved carefully up the punt, sat down next to Scully and, leaning over her, pulled up with a flourish a bottle which had been cooling over the side in the water. Opening the small wicker hamper which the Lygon Arms had provided and discreetly loaded into the trunk of the rental car for him early that morning he produced two champagne flutes. They had lunched in the Cotswolds, in a small village called Boughton-on-the-Water, a little place with a little stream running through the middle crossed by tiny bridges. The main street was lined with honey coloured buildings selling home-made fudge, scented candles and tourist trifles. They ate scampi-in-a-basket in a pub incongruously named the Alligator and Boy, Mulder's speculations as to the origin of the name growing wilder and wilder as the meal progressed. And then they had driven along undulating roads through the sunshine to Oxford. "You've done this before." Scully's eyes were serious, questioning, although she appeared to be totally relaxed, reclining back, head turned to look at him. Mulder didn't answer immediately, instead held the glasses out to her, and she sat up, taking them both Unscrewing the metal frame around the neck of the bottle he popped the cork with his thumbs, and poured the wine into the two glasses, pausing for the bubbles to subside a little, then pouring again. "Never before with the woman I love, Red." Leaning forward, he touched his mouth lightly to hers, then took one of the glasses and saluted her. "To the future, Scully. " And they drank the wine - cold, and dry, and tasting like strawberries on the palate - then he laid her down gently in the bottom of the punt and made slow, gentle love to her with his hands and lips. Much later, they walked languidly along the gravelled paths behind the colleges, Scully holding onto his arm tightly, a little giggly, for she had more of the champagne than he, until he turned her into a passageway which led to a neat quadrangle. "There." Scully's eyes followed his gesture up. "Those were my rooms!" Suddenly an immense figure in academic robes flapped into view. "Fox Mulder! As I live and breathe!" and first his hand and then Scully's were being pumped up and down in vigorous welcome. "You've decided to abandon a life of crime for something important I hope, Fox," the deep voice rumbled, "such as academic research!" But the eyes were twinkling. Mulder grinned back at the man. "Dana Scully, meet one of my old mentors, Professor Peter Sawyer. Peter, Dana's my partner. We've been over here on a - consult - for the American Embassy..." "Your partner indeed!" The large man stepped back and looked at Scully appraisingly. "In all senses of the word, clearly! Who would have thought the Eff Bee Eye would be so liberal in their thinking." He winked at Scully, and Mulder's laughter rang off the surrounding building. "Delighted to meet you my dear. You must let me buy you tea. Four o'clock at the Randolph. Must go now, Fox - you know how it is - Vice Chancellor's got himself in a pickle again and called an emergency convocation. See you later!" And he flapped off round the corner without waiting for a response, like a great black bat. Tea at the Randolph was an Oxord tradition, according to Mulder as he assured her that they'd still have plenty of time to make their plane. Scully looked around the Fellows Lounge at the ever-so-slightly shabby armchairs and heavy dark-wood furniture, the Victorian paintings which didn't seem quite to meld with the Art Nouveau wallpaper, and frowned a little as they waited for Professor Sawyer to arrive. "I think I'm experiencing 'deja vue', Mulder. This place seems oddly familiar. " Mulder leaned forward. "Spooky," he whispered narrowing his eyes at her in an attampt at a mysterious leer, making her giggle again. The waiter was setting down the silver teapot, and assorted crockery and a plate containing a pile of scones when Peter Sawyer arrived. He'd dispensed with the academic gown, and sat down on the sofa next to her, loosening his tie. "My God, it's hot in here. Pour the tea, there's a good boy, I'm absolutely gasping," he addressed Mulder. Scully placed one of the scones carefully onto a sideplate, and looked round the low table a little puzzled. "Scully's having a paranormal experience, Pete. She thinks she's been here before!" Mulder grinned broadly at the older man, then continued to Scully, "The cream and jam's over there -" he pointed to a tiered trolley, "- you pick what you want. Come on....." He stood up and held out his hand to her, but Scully shook her head. The couch was *very* deep, she still felt a little buzzed from the champagne and the weird feeling hadn't left her. "I trust you Mulder. Bring enough for both of us." "Yes, ma'am!" Mulder picked up both plates and moved over to the trolley, busying himself piling into little white pots a selection of jams, and a heap of the thick lumpy clotted cream to spread on the breadcakes. Scully leaned back further on the sofa, and turned to the Professor, to find him watching her with speculative but kindly eyes. "He's teasing you, you know. You're good for him. I've never seen him so at ease." She tilted her chin up. "Teasing - how?" "This place is familiar - yes?" In response to her nod he continued, "Have you seen the film 'ShadowLands'?" Of course! Scully gave herself a mental slap. "The place where C.S.Lewis met his American wife, " she stated wryly. " See what working with Fox Mulder for four years has brought me to!" "Hmm." The sounds rumbled deep in the man's throat. "Yes - they actually filmed that scene here - thank you dear boy," as Mulder placed on the table the confections he had selected, and then slipped out of the room. "I've heard a great deal about you, my dear." Now Scully *was* surprised. She had no idea Mulder still communicated with anyone from his Oxford days. There was so much she still didn't know about him, she reflected. She grinned at the man, hoping she didn't look too much like a chipmunk, "All good, I hope." "Latterly. Although from the first, Fox was impressed by your - well, shall we say - tenacity to the tenets of science." He leaned forward, serious now. "How is he really? I have worried about him, you know. He's had dark times in his life. Take care of him: he's very special." Oh Mulder, how is it that you can't see what affection other people have for you. Why do you let yourself go alone into your darkness and shut us out. "I will." She tucked her hair behind her ears, and bit into a scone thickly covered in strawberry jam and clotted cream. "He's very special to me, too." And she had been only half-surprised when Mulder had reappeared to tell her that he'd taken a room for the night; they were flying out tomorrow after all... ..They had dined at the hotel, and she had come up here ahead whilst he had gone to fetch their cases. It was dark outside: the drapes were pulled. She looked around the Balliol suite. Another four-poster bed, but not remotely like the Lygon Arms. Richly embroidered fabrics and a thick, silk canopy. The bed had been turned down, the sheets white, crisp and cool. Then he stood in the doorway, an absurdly uncertain look on his face. "Is it okay?" "Come here." She held out both hands to him and they came together in a fierce hug and bruising kiss. "Fox Mulder," she murmured into his mouth when she'd got her breath back. "You've been seducing me all day long, and if you think you can get away with frustrating me any longer, I'm not half the woman I think I am......" And she pushed him back onto the bed and turned off the light. ************** End of day Seven. ******************************************* EPILOGUE ONE. Day Eight Wednesday 29th May 1996. E-Mail to Fox Mulder from anon@anonservice.fi.net Been missin' you , bro. Place has been jumping while you've been gone. Mucho activity down in Arricebo - confirmed reports of a Fallen Angel. All gone quiet again now . Looks like you missed the big show. Get in touch. The usual. ****************************************** EPILOGUE TWO. Thirteen Months Later. Washington Post, 26th June 1997. Political sidelines. Richard Matheson, who left the Senate after a distinguished career representing his home state of Virginia to serve as Ambassador to the United Kingdom, returns to Washington today to take up a temporary 17th Amendment appointment in Congress on the sudden death in post of his successor Senator Robert Cleveland. Matheson, whose second wife Annelise, the mother of his two sons, died unexpectedly from leukemia a year ago in England, is expected to use this appointment to launch his bid for the Democratic nomination for the Presidency in the millennium year. Insiders state that the powerful backers who helped him secure this appointment are confident of his success at that time. No replacement as UK Ambassador has yet been named. Matheson will be accompanied by his new wife, Phoebe (aged 36), who has already proved to be an asset to this career politician during his ambassadorial appointment. So we could be looking at an English First Lady, folks! ****************** The End. ****************** Allelujah! Just a brief note in case anyone made it this far - there really *is* a picture as I've described by Charles Edward Perugini, and I really *did* find it in a gallery called Glastonbury Romantics when I went there for the day to do a little research for this story :-D And a final note added in May 1997 - the brief reference to past-life hypnotic regression in the abovementioned shop was written in July 1996 (the story was first posted in Summer 1996) - months before we had the misfortune to suffer through 'The Field Where I Almost Puked Up At The Mawkish Sentimentality And Bad Bad Acting'. {".....Could be love!" { {"Must be fate, Mulder...." Fox Mulder and Dana Scully from 'Tooms'. >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>