From: Martha <marthalgm@yahoo.com>
Date: Fri, 1 Sep 2000 19:01:08 -0700 (PDT)
Subject: The Wrong Kind of Paradise (1/5)
Source: direct


Disclaimer - all recognizable XF characters contained in this 
story are the creative property of 1013 Productions and FOX 
Broadcasting.

Classif:  S
Rating:   PG
Spoiler:  Requiem (US7)
Summary:  In the days after Mulder's apparent abduction,
          Scully, Skinner, and the Lone Gunmen learn of a new
          threat and rediscover some old acquaintances.  

Author's notes follow story.


The Wrong Kind of Paradise 
by Martha
marthalgm@yahoo.com


Scully's hospital room
2:33pm

He had not planned on telling Scully about Mulder's apparent 
abduction, but he should have never mentioned that Skinner was 
enroute to the hospital.  It inevitably led to her wanting to 
know where her partner was and, as her insistence grew, his 
resolve broke. 

Frohike could only watch as Scully struggled emotionally and 
verbally at the news - at first dismissing his edited account 
of Skinner's phone calls to the Gunmen over the past few hours 
until he reminded her that she could verify it with Skinner if 
she didn't believe him.  

`Smooth move, Frohike,' he thought, shaking his head.  He 
located the Kleenexes on the lower shelf of the bedside table 
and placed the box on the bed next to her clenching fist.  
Desperate to find something to allow him to leave her alone for 
a few minutes, opportunity presented itself when he came across 
her water glass and mumbled some words about getting her a 
refill.       

He lingered at the water fountain, slowly filling her glass and 
taking a few gulps for himself as he replayed his inept telling 
of the previous night's events.  He knew that she wanted the 
straight facts - waiting for Skinner to show up should have 
been the call, though;  there were better odds for the two of 
them to match up against one distraught Dana Scully.  

He had listened at the door before knocking, catching her while 
she was blowing her nose and hopefully before she could start 
on another crying jag - happy to give her those few seconds to 
compose herself before entering.  He pulled the lone visitor's 
chair up next to her bed.  They sat together in silence for a 
short time - every couple of minutes when Scully's breathing 
became labored and audible, he would reach out and touch her 
hand.  She would glance over at him and nod - perhaps she was 
making a mental note to add just that much more crying time to 
some point in the future.  Frohike had thought about leaving 
the room again but wanted to watch over her in case she decided 
not to wait for Skinner and try to leave.  Which brought him to 
why she was still in the hospital in the first place.    

Well, no time like the present.  How much more upset with him 
could she be?  "Did he know?"

"Did who know?"

"You know who.  Before he left for Oregon."

"I don't know what you're talking about."   

In the past few years, when the guys were working as much with 
her as they were with Mulder, Frohike had begun to develop a 
sense of when she was being less than forthright with 
information.  "Scully, there are very few circumstances that 
would make a reasonably healthy woman faint, especially one 
still in her childbearing years."

"What makes you think . . ."

Frohike continued as if he were practicing his summation in a 
bathroom mirror.  "Although in your case, that's not something 
that I would have thought possible, but I've read your chart."

"There's nothing on my chart."

"Nothing is spelled out specifically.  You have to interpret 
some lab results and read what is not there.  Couple that with 
your not being scheduled for a CAT scan - which, by the way, 
would have been the first test *I'd* run since you can't have 
an MRI with that chip still in your neck."  Frohike had a few 
more checkmates up his sleeve but decided to wage his final 
challenge.  "Well?"

"I have to find Mulder."

There was a slight quiver in Scully's voice when she spoke her 
partner's name out loud that made Frohike soften his stance on 
his curiosity about her present condition.  He was thankful to 
have been given the opportunity to change the subject.  "We're 
working on a few leads."

"Tell me."

"When you're discharged."

At this point, the exasperation module in Scully's spectrum of 
moods kicked in.  "Stop treating me as if I'm some sort of 
invalid, Frohike.  I'm being released in the morning."

"Sorry.  That was not my intention.  I'm just not comfortable 
discussing them in our present setting, you understand."  He 
gestured to the door and then quickly glanced up at the 
ceiling;  there would have been plenty of time for anyone to 
bug the room in his opinion, and he hoped that she would play 
along with his idiosyncrasy.  "Anyway, I need to get going."  
He did not repeat that Skinner was already on his way and 
didn't see the need to remind her of the details that Skinner 
was bringing.  "One of us will be back later.  With Mulder gone 
- well, not that any of us are up to filling his shoes, but he 
would want us to keep an eye out for you under the 
circumstances."

For the first time during his visit, Frohike saw Scully smile.  
"My mother has beaten you to that.  Oh," she called out as his 
hand rested on the door handle, "and I would appreciate it if 
you would not share your unsubstantiated theory with anyone 
else."

Frohike turned back towards her and saw the blue eyes across 
the room glaze over just a bit and then blink free of their 
excess moisture.  He had earlier decided to keep her pregnancy 
a secret for the time being and nodded his acceptance.  Scully 
would already be the object of everyone's concern in dealing 
with Mulder's disappearance;  she did not need the additional 
burden of pity from the outside world.  There would be plenty 
of time for that later.

~	~	~	~	~	~	~	~	

Scully's hospital room
4:20am

The door to the room opened and shut quickly, letting in the 
minimum amount of harsh hospital lighting possible but enough 
to awaken a light sleeper.  The intruding figure approached the 
bed while the occupant was struggling to sit up. "Agent 
Scully?"

"Ms. Covarrubias?  What time is it?"

"Early morning."  Marita had noticed Scully's eyes peering 
around her frame to the door.  "Your watchdog is in the men's 
room."

Scully had noted her visitor's white coat, mentally theorizing 
an attempt to not be noticed in the hallways.  "Making rounds 
now?"

The visitor was having none of this.  "Agent Scully, I'll get 
right to the point."

"Please do."

Marita's coolness continued in light of Scully's annoyance at 
being woken up so early.  "You've been told that you are in the 
early stages of a pregnancy.  Is this correct?"

"Why should that be any concern of yours?"

Marita repeated her question with some urgency.  "Is this 
correct, Agent Scully?"  When the patient continued to stare at 
the door and refused to answer, she continued, "I'll take that 
as confirmation.  Are you comfortable with the diagnosis?  What 
I mean to ask is, do you trust your physicians here?  What are 
your instincts telling you about this pregnancy?"

Scully glared back at her in disbelief.  How dare she bring up 
`trust' when she herself is in alignment with Krycek, of all 
people?  "Why don't you leave now so that I can get some 
sleep?"  

"And the father is Agent Mulder, is it not?"  

Had she been fully awake and oriented, Scully would have thrown 
back the bed covers and forcibly removed Marita from the room.  
As it was, she punched the rough hospital pillows to give them 
some thickness and turned over on her side, feigning sleep in 
the hope that the other woman would take the hint and leave.    

Marita tried for a softer approach and sat down on the corner 
near the foot of the bed.  "Dana, do you plan to go back to 
work?  Continue with your regular routine?"

"Why?"  Scully spoke into her pillows, suddenly questioning why 
Marita would show any concern for someone other than herself.  
"Do you think that someone wants to hurt me?  Hurt the baby?"

"No, Dana;  harming the child is the *last* thing that these 
men want."  

Scully turned over to face her again.  "I'm tired of people 
speaking in circles and not answering my questions.  Why don't 
you just tell me what you know?"

"If I may make a suggestion - don't go back to an empty 
apartment.  Not just yet."  Marita rose from her perch on the 
bed and turned towards the door.  "Do you have a place to go 
to, someone to stay with for a few days?"

"Yes."  Scully would not elaborate further, that her mother was 
expecting her to stay at her home through the coming weekend.  
Two could play this game.  

"Do that, and I will be in contact with Mr. Skinner.  I should 
be able to present enough evidence to convince you of what the 
future holds for you."  And for your baby, Marita would add as 
an afterthought as she closed the door behind her.  

~	~	~	~	~	~	~	~	

Lone Gunmen Headquarters
the following Monday
2:18pm

"OK, so tell me why I'm developing film instead of looking at 
the originals."  Frohike confronted Skinner upon returning from 
his darkroom.  "I can just see you doing undercover work," he 
added in a mocking tone.  "There's got to be a story there."

"The film is courtesy of Krycek.  The originals are in a 
briefcase."  Skinner sighed and completed the explanation, not 
wanting to undergo anymore interrogation after spending the 
past several days repeating to the Gunmen and to his superiors 
what had transpired in Oregon with Mulder.  "The briefcase is 
still in someone else's possession."

"Why not steal the briefcase?"

"The briefcase is attached to this other person."

Langly's ears perked up.  "Handcuffed?"

Byers interrupted from the other side of the room.  "Secret 
Service or military?"

"Military."  Skinner sensed that, with a few more keywords, 
these guys would be able to piece it together without ever 
leaving the room.

"And how did Krycek get pictures of the contents without that 
person knowing?" Frohike demanded.

"The individual in question is in the hospital.  Concussion."

"He knocked the guy out and broke into his briefcase to take 
pictures of the paperwork inside of it?  Don't we have enough 
problems right now?"

Skinner jokingly threw up his hands in surrender.  "Considering 
it's Krycek, I'm glad he didn't kill the guy."

Frohike returned to his darkroom to continue the development 
process and returned to the main office a short time later.  He 
handed off the CD with the photos to Langly, who promptly 
loaded it into the nearest PC.

Langly took a moment to clear some shadows and enlarge the 
frames.  "OK, so what are we looking at here?"

"What are all these sets of numbers?"  Flanked by the other two 
Gunmen, Skinner looked over Langly's shoulder at the screen, 
unable to comprehend the data on the photo. 

Another long minute passed while the Gunmen mumbled various 
combinations of possibilities under their breaths.  Frohike 
spoke up first.  "The first two kind of look like latitude and 
longitude, but those others don't jibe."

"Altitude.  Wind velocity."  Byers half-whispered after a few 
seconds and then started to point at the pairings on the 
screen.  "This is a printout from an old SDI program."

Skinner was still running his rusty map-reading skills through 
a drill.  "What, that Star Wars stuff from the eighties?"

"The Air Force was developing some special projects about 
weather in high altitudes back then - if you're tracking 
anything incoming or outgoing, you'd want to know what the 
weather was like over the target area so that you could 
compensate speed and trajectory and still hit your mark."

Langly was slightly bewildered.  "Why would Krycek want us to 
have these papers?"

"We should locate these areas first," Byers suggested.  "That 
might give us our answer."

Further investigation on the pairings of numbers led them to 
Marietta, Georgia.  Reynoldsburg, Ohio.  Ada, Oklahoma.  
Sidney, Montana.

And Bellefleur, Oregon.

Skinner nearly went ballistic with this latest discovery.  
"Wait a minute.  Does this mean that the Air Force knows about 
what happened to Mulder?"

"Possibly," Byers cautioned, "or they were just documenting the 
activity.  Some of these datestamps are consistent with the 
times that Mulder was in Oregon with Scully and with you."

"Do we stand a chance on getting someone in the Air Force to 
confirm this data?"

Langly and Frohike immediately turned towards their partner, as 
if to silently hand off that assignment to him.

Byers nodded his acceptance.  "I may have a contact that I can 
try."

~	~	~	~	~	~	~	~	~	~

Lone Gunmen Headquarters
4:14pm

"I came straight from my mother's," Scully began after all the 
initial pleasantries concerning her health were exchanged.  
"Have you found anything new about Mulder?"

Byers quickly spoke up.  "I've got a meeting in a couple of 
hours with someone who might be able to answer some questions.  
If he confirms some of our suspicions, then we'll have a route 
of action to start planning."  

Scully acknowledged his answer by absentmindedly drumming her 
fingers on one of the lab tables.  She looked around at the 
room's occupants, waiting for the expected elaboration, and for 
the first time noticed that someone was missing.  "I was told 
that Marita would be here with some information for me."

Skinner cleared some stray diskettes from a nearby chair and 
motioned for her to rest a while.  "She's already contacted us.  
She's on her way."

"She's here."  Langly pointed at the monitors.  He started to 
get up to let her in and was surprised when he noted that 
Scully was already at the front door.

Upon entering, Marita turned away from the others and half-
whispered to Scully, "Do they know?"

She did not need further explanation.  "I've told Skinner."  
Which is true, she reasoned;  Frohike may have guessed as to 
her condition, but she never actually *told* him.

Marita was again as insistent as she had been during the visit 
in the hospital.  "If we are to be of any assistance to you 
over the next year, they will *all* have to know." 

Scully honestly did not want to have to reveal her secret to 
too many people.  There were many questions that she either 
couldn't or wouldn't answer concerning the circumstances of her 
unexpected condition, and she had just spent the last two days 
hiding in her bedroom to avoid her mother's demanding stares.  
She reluctantly agreed with Marita - they all would need the 
best current information in order to get through the upcoming 
months.  Scully glanced over at Skinner before pausing to make 
her announcement to the Gunmen.  "I'm pregnant."

Langly muttered "Yeah, right," and then began looking to the 
others being suckered in with her joke.  But the other faces 
appeared to be taking her seriously, so he began to defend his 
argument.  "Scully, that's not possible.  We have your files 
from that Allentown clinic;  you can't *get* pregnant."

Byers appeared stunned by Scully's revelation but reasoned, 
"Research and modern technology have made great strides in the 
last decade."

Frohike and Skinner wisely kept quiet.

"The fact still remains that I am pregnant."  Not wanting to 
deal with the so-far unasked obvious questions, she turned her 
attention back towards Marita.  "Now what is this information 
that you have for me?  Why is my condition so important to 
anyone else?"

"Because I've already been through a similar situation."  If 
Scully's announcement had been a stunner, this latest bit of 
news was a knock-out punch to them all.  "I was held at Fort 
Marlene.  I had been infected with the black alien virus, and 
they experimented on me with vaccines that they had hoped would 
make them immune.  The last round of dosages seemed to work.  
And then as you know," she looked directly at Scully, "all hell 
broke loose.

"Jeffrey Spender had tried to help but Alex Krycek finally got 
me out of there, and we started running.  But they found us, 
confined us, and eventually we began to work for them again.  
Running their little errands.  Only the errand that they sent 
Alex to do landed him in a Tunisian prison.  And I was in a 
hospital with what was diagnosed as a high-risk pregnancy.

"The baby was Alex's.  I had been told at the time that he had 
been ordered to conceive a child with me.  We both had been 
exposed to the substance."  Marita approached Scully, reaching 
out to lay a hand on her forearm.  "It does have the ability to 
alter and disguise cells in certain areas of the brain.  The 
changes are not that noticeable in adults, and we've seen that 
it can not be transplanted from one person to another."

Scully began the next sentence, "But in an infant . . ."

"Yes.  If both parents had been exposed to any of the variables 
and the mutations allowed to flourish, then a child from their 
union may inherit those mutations which would be allowed to 
develop right from the fetal stage."

"What happened to your baby?" Langly called out.

For the first time since arriving, Marita appeared visibly 
shaken.  "I don't know.  She was taken from me at birth.  I was 
told that she had some genetic problems and that she died 
several hours later.  I was never allowed to see her so I can't 
swear to this with any certainty, and of course, there are no 
records of my confinement."

"How convenient."

"Mr. Langly, if we are to work together, then there must be 
room for a small amount of trust in certain matters between us 
all."

There was a short pause while the group absorbed the 
ramifications of Marita's statements before Skinner spoke up.  
"So what do we do - send Agent Scully into hiding until the 
baby is born?"

"That might not be such a bad idea," Marita answered.  "I 
believe that, sooner or later, they will come to take Dana and 
her unborn child."

"The same `they' that took Mulder?"

"Honestly, I can't be sure that the two incidents would even be 
related, but Alex believes that Agent Mulder was taken to use 
to trade for the baby at a later time."

The three Gunmen, as was their habit, turned to each other to 
work on an approach to the problem.  "How can we be sure that 
Scully's child will even be affected by any of this?" Langly 
began. 

Byers continued in the same line of thinking.  "Isn't there a 
statistical possibility that there will be no anomalies with 
this child even if both parents carry the mutation?"

"Yes, that is possible."  Frohike pushed himself up off of the 
couch and started to cross the room towards the computers.  "So 
we would need to be able to locate any other women who may have 
been exposed to the black virus and monitor any subsequent 
pregnancies, although coming by that information may be damn 
near impossible to get."

"Gentlemen."  Marita commanded their attention.  "You don't 
have to look too far for your first control subject."  And 
their attention is what she got.  "I am also pregnant."

~	~	~	~	~	~	~	~	~	

Lone Gunmen Headquarters
later that evening

"Shouldn't we tell her about the coordinates we found?"

Langly was still looking over the printouts from the most 
recent satellite transmissions, looking for the same set of 
values that they had come across when looking for the alien 
spaceship.  Skinner was briefing Scully on his latest round of 
information gathering at the FBI.  Marita had left a few 
moments earlier, presumably to meet up Krycek.

Byers looked over at the agents to make sure that they were 
otherwise occupied before answering.  "Let me get confirmation 
back from my contact first.  I'd rather not get her hopes up 
with uncollaborated information."

Frohike immediately read behind his partner's weak explanation.  
"If the docs think that she would be in any danger of not 
carrying to term, they'd have confined her already."

"That's another thing."  Langly leaned in to bring their circle 
a bit closer.  "You know, I didn't want to say this earlier but 
aren't we making an assumption that the baby is Mulder's?"

Frohike whispered through clenched teeth, "Who else's would it 
be?"

"I don't know, but just because they're partners and all . . ."

Byers interrupted before Frohike could further lose his temper.  
"I think that the concerns that Ms. Covarrubias has raised 
about the baby's possible inherited genetics and Scully's 
acceptance of that theory would lead to only one probable 
father of that baby."

Langly was not prepared to let the subject drop.  "You mean 
it's Krycek's?"

"Oh, you are asking for it now."  Frohike slipped off of his 
stool and began backing Langly against the wall.

"Hey, I'm kidding here.  Jeez, lighten up."

"We're talking about Scully here.  This is *not* something that 
you should be joking about."

"Of course it's Mulder's."  Byers again checked for their 
guests who were still deep in discussion.  "We've been busy and 
probably haven't been paying too much attention to the two of 
them lately for either one to say anything.  *But* until we 
hear it straight from either Scully *or Mulder*, none of us 
brings the subject up in front of her.  There's no need to 
embarrass her any more than she already is.  Understood?"

Even while the other two were making their agreement to the 
deal, Byers was silently hoping that Mulder was indeed the 
father of Scully's child.  Though not practical, he was not as 
convinced of it as he should be, given Scully's past medical 
record.  And that thought worried him.    

~	~	~	~	~	~	~	~	

Hoover Building
X Files Office
Friday, 11:32am

Scully was catching up on her reading of interoffice memos when 
Skinner appeared in the doorway.  She was about to address him 
when he put his fingers to his lips, motioning for her to keep 
silent and then gestured for her to follow him out into the 
hallway.  He put his hand on her shoulder and guided her ahead 
into a nearby supply closet, shutting the door behind them.

Her curiosity was piqued, hoping that there was news about her 
partner.  "What's all this about, sir?"  

"We . . ." Skinner began, "you don't have much time.  Are you 
still planning to go out to lunch at your usual place?"

"Yes, but I don't understand."

"Just let me get all of this out first.  A short time ago, 
someone tried to make a grab for Marita.  As luck would have 
it, Krycek was there and *took care* of the situation.  She's 
fine but the general consensus now seems to be that you'll be 
next."

Scully was shocked at the news of this latest event - she 
thought that she would have more time before Marita's 
prediction of having to run away came true.  "They'd come after 
me here?"

"We think that they will probably wait until you get home this 
evening.  They wouldn't know about the earlier failure just 
yet.  I want you to go back to your office and gather anything 
that you think that you will need later, but don't make a big 
show of it.  Don't get on the phone and don't tell anyone what 
I'm about to tell you.  You are to pretend that you're just 
leaving the building to go to lunch.  Understand?"

"Yes."

"Head for that sandwich shop.  Don't stop anywhere along the 
way.  When you turn the corner onto 9th Street, Langly should 
be there with the van.  Just get in and go."

Scully put her hand on the doorjamb and paused.  "Should I call 
you on your private line later?"

"No.  I don't want to hear from you."  Skinner shook his head 
before apologizing.  "I didn't mean it like that - I just don't 
want to be put in the position of having to lie about you.  
`The less I know' and all that.  As far as I can tell anyone, 
you left for lunch and you never got back to your office.  If 
we're lucky, no one will know that you've gone until Monday 
morning."

"Sir, about Mulder?"

"The Gunmen will be contacting you with updates.  I didn't want 
them to tell me what they'd arranged.  Krycek is taking care of 
Marita - he says that we're on our own with you."  Skinner 
almost added a cynical postscript to that but he was thankful 
that Krycek had notified him as soon as it happened.  "It'll be 
a good thing that you're both not in the same place.  I will 
also see to it that your mother is not unnecessarily worried 
about your disappearance. I won't be able to tell her much but 
at least I can assure her that you are still alive."

~	~	~	~	~	~	~	~	~	

Washington DC
Friday, 12:02pm

Scully walked briskly down E Street focusing on the corner of 
the building ahead of her knowing that, when she turned the 
corner, her life would abruptly change.  She had quickly 
gathered her billfold and keys and weapon that were in her top 
drawer, but there was little else that she wanted to take.  She 
had looked around, wanting to find something of Mulder's to 
take with her.  She regretted not taking more time to look and 
nearly stopped to go back to the office when she noted that she 
was already at the corner.   

The van door was slightly open.  Frohike peeked out and pushed 
it wider.  "Get in."

Scully settled into the bench seat while Langly pulled out into 
traffic.  "Where is Byers?"  She did not see him occupying his 
usual passenger-side seat.

"We're meeting him."  Frohike motioned to her with his hands, 
"Give me your cellphone."

She watched as he removed and examined the battery, putting 
both it and the phone into a plastic bag on the floor, before 
it registered that he was not going to give it back to her.  
"No.  What if . . ."

"We'll monitor your phone calls.  Problem is, someone else may 
also be tracking it so you can't take it with you.  Understand, 
Scully, that we may have to dump it later to throw people off 
your track."

She reluctantly agreed to his wishes.  She realized that she 
was also giving up the last avenue of contact that Mulder had 
with her.  

Frohike was not yet finished with taking inventory.  "What else 
do you have on you?  Come on, Scully, everything.  We have to 
be sure that they haven't already planted something on you."

She turned over what was left in her pockets.  She saw her keys 
disappear into the same bag as her phone.  Her billfold was 
opened, and the money transferred into a similar wallet.

"I'm sorry, Scully, but you can't take any ID or charge cards. 
Is there anything in here, pictures or stuff, that you'd want 
to keep?" 

She shook her head.  She was now thankful that her one picture 
of Emily was in her nightstand at home;  if the guys had to 
trash her personal items, at least that small memento would not 
be lost.  "I'm keeping my weapon."

"I hope you won't need it, but you should hang onto it."  
Frohike looked it over before handing it back to her along with 
the wallet.  "Your new ID is in here.  Don't open it yet, not 
until you're on your way.  You'll also have a account for any 
funds that you need.  I would like to take this moment, 
however, to remind you that we did not have a whole lot of lead 
time on this.  The picture on the license is about a year old."
   
"Can you at least tell me where I'm going?"  By now, they were 
traveling on Interstate 95.

"That's Byers' job.  We should be seeing him shortly."

A few more minutes passed before she spoke again.  "Do you know 
anything about Marita?"

"Last we heard, Krycek was spiriting her away to her own hiding 
place.  I'm sure that this is nothing new for the two of them.  
They've been on the run before."  Frohike paused to check the 
mile marker signs on the interstate.  "We have an agreement 
that we don't tell the other about where you ladies will be 
living.  Just safer that way."

Langly pulled off of the interstate into a designated rest area 
and parked at the far side of the lot near the picnic area.  
Within minutes, a white late-model Toyota Camry pulled up 
beside them.  Byers, dressed in tan dockers, dark green 
pullover shirt, and sunglasses emerged with two small bags.  

Langly was impressed with his partner's new dressing habits.  
"Damn, you do clean up good."

"One of the perks of doing this kind of work.  How are you, 
Scully?"  Byers had carried two bags into the van and handed 
one off to Langly.  "OK, guys, here's your snacks as promised."

Langly took the bag and prepared to leave the van.  "We've got 
to say `good-bye' now, Scully.  Take care of yourself.  Drop us 
a postcard or two.  Just kidding about that last part."

"Good-bye, Scully."  Frohike began to mumble something else and 
then leaned over to kiss her on the cheek.  He left the van 
just as quickly, never turning to look back for fear of 
becoming too emotional over their forced separation.

Byers walked to the back of the van and pulled down the black-
out shades.  "Here's the thing, Scully.  You're going to have 
to change.  We may have to use your clothes later as a decoy."  
He handed her the second bag.  "I'm pretty sure about the sizes 
though I do admit my taste may not be on par with yours.  And 
no, I didn't even try to get underwear.  You'll have to buy 
more clothes once you get to where you're going."  Byers 
climbed out and added before closing the door, "Just make sure 
that you put on the hat and the sunglasses before you come out 
and get into the car."

Scully examined the contents of the bag for her new outfit - a 
pair of pull-on khaki pants, a dark blue tank top with matching 
lightweight sweater, and deck shoes.  A cloth pouch purse, 
sunglasses, and a small straw hat with dark blue trim 
accompanied them.  He didn't do too badly, she thought.  

She dressed quickly, leaving her clothes behind in the bag and 
placing her new wallet and weapon inside the purse.  Her 
getting out of the van was their signal to continue again.  As 
the four settled into the vehicles, they were all individually 
hoping that they had gotten out of DC in time to make all this 
work.  

They pulled out of the rest stop, Byers and Scully in the lead 
with the van following them.  After about thirty minutes of 
verification that they were not being tailed, Langly exited the 
interstate according to the agreed plan.  Frohike moved to the 
rear of the van, keeping the Camry in sight for as long as 
possible.  

"We're going to see her again, Frohike."  Langly watched in the 
rearview mirror and tried to reassure him.  "She's going to be 
safe.  We'll make sure of that."

Frohike swore at that moment that he was never going to rest 
until that day came.  

~	~	~	~	~	~	~	~		

Interstate 95
2:01pm

Byers pulled into another rest stop and parked, once again at 
the opposite side away from most of the traffic.  

Scully spoke first. "Please don't tell me that I have to change 
again."

"No.  But this is where we part company."  Byers leaned back in 
his seat and began the speech that he had spent the past hour 
practicing.  "What I need for you to do is to go to the ladies 
room.  Take your time;  try not to be conspicuous.  Wait at 
least seven minutes and then come back out."  He paused to make 
sure that he had her full attention.  "There will be another 
white Camry waiting right here.  Don't hesitate - just get into 
the passenger side and go.  I promise you, Scully, it will be 
all right."

She was stunned.  She had assumed that Byers was to accompany 
her to her new life.  "When will I hear from you guys?"

"We'll be notified once you get to your destination, and we'll 
be in weekly contact after that unless an emergency comes up.  
It will all be explained to you shortly.  Trust me on this, 
Scully.  Mulder will never speak to me or the guys again if we 
screw this up."

The invocation of Mulder's name for the first time during their 
drive unnerved them both, but Byers recovered quickly.  "You 
have a long drive ahead of you.  You should take advantage of 
the facilities."

Scully placed her hand on Byers', which was still gripping the 
steering wheel.  "Good-bye.  And thanks."

Byers watched Scully enter the ladies room, then alternated his 
attention between that door and his rearview mirror.  Within 
two minutes, an identical automobile slowly made its way 
towards where he was parked and pulled up beside him.  

He removed his sunglasses and looked at the driver.  She was so 
beautiful, he thought.  Though he had not actually seen Susanne 
since that last night in Las Vegas outside the Monte Carlo, he 
carried the memory of that parting moment, knowing that they 
*would* see each other again - someday, she had said.  To only 
have that final visual that may have to last them a lifetime - 
he had hoped that Scully had picked out a good one of her and 
Mulder to carry with her in the coming months.  

The urge to get out of the car washed over him.  He wanted to 
go over to her and hold her and kiss her and drive away with 
her.  But he also knew that he would endanger Susanne's well-
protected new life, just as he might now hinder getting Scully 
safely hidden.  The guys . . . Skinner . . . Mulder were now 
dependent upon him to carry out his end of the plan.  To leave 
Scully behind.  And Susanne.

Byers fumbled for the keys and started the car.  He made one 
last turn towards Susanne and mouthed `I love you', barely able 
to get out those words before the sting of tears began to 
overwhelm him.  He put his sunglasses back on and slowly, 
deliberately, pulled his car out of the parking space and back 
onto the road toward home.

Susanne had returned the endearment, though she could not be 
sure that he noticed it before he drove away.  She was still 
drying her eyes when the passenger door opened and a now-
curious Scully slid into the seat.  

Scully dug into her new purse and pulled out a travel-size 
tissue that had been thoughtfully packed for her.  "Are you 
OK?"

"Yes, thank you.  I will be."  Susanne checked herself in the 
side mirror before turning back to her traveling companion.  
"Are you ready to go?"

Scully was now the one struck with tears.  She nodded her 
response and turned to look out the window as Susanne headed 
for the interstate and her new beginning.
     
=======================
~~ to be continued ~~
=======================

begin part 2

The Wrong Kind of Paradise 
by Martha
marthalgm@yahoo.com

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Oh, if she could've only seen
But Fate's got cards that it don't want to show
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Interstate 95 South
somewhere near the VA/NC border
3:01pm

"So."

They had driven in silence for the last forty miles, each 
a bit wary to tread on the private musings of the other.  
Not that they were particularly great friends, especially 
when you considered that their only other meeting was in 
Las Vegas just before Susanne had gone underground and 
when neither were really at their best.

"So," Scully echoed and paused before continuing.  "I 
imagine that the guys have given you an earful of about 
what's happened."

Susanne shook her head.  "John didn't give me a lot of 
details.  Just to drive to the rest area at Exit 133 on 
the southbound side of the interstate and pick you up and 
be prepared to have you stay with me for a while."

Good, Scully thought.  One less pair of prying eyes to 
watch her every move and rain down kindness and pity.  Her 
mother's admonitions to get enough sleep and eat the right 
kinds of foods and Skinner dropping by her office on a 
regular basis - she did not know how she would hold up 
under another seven to eight months of their attentions.  
If she stayed with Susanne for any great length of time, 
she would have to be told, but for now she was at ease 
with not having to put on a brave face.

It struck her as to how quietly she had gone along with 
the events of the day so far.  Four days ago, she had been 
told that there was a possibility that she might have to 
go into hiding to protect herself and the baby, and now 
she was riding down Interstate 95 with someone she barely 
knew, with no possessions and without a word to her 
mother.

Perhaps she was just tired of considering the inevitable.  
She and Byers and Langly had argued at length as to why 
exactly she would have to go if that time came and how 
could she conduct a search for Mulder if she was in some 
godforsaken town with little communication and no 
resources.  They countered with the stance that Mulder's 
return would mean nothing if she was also missing.  They 
would continue to confer with her on new leads and act on 
her suggestions, but she was urged to protect herself.  
And her baby.  If she had not been pregnant, she would be 
camped out in the Gunmen's quarters for the duration and 
taken the primary role in the search for her partner.  As 
it was, her priorities had been rearranged for her.  
Mulder would have insisted upon it.  

Mulder.  She imagined him at a roadside phone booth in the 
middle of the night, frantically punching her cellphone 
number, swearing and pounding on the glass windows for her 
to pick up and didn't she know that he would contact her 
as soon as he was able to free himself.  But he would then 
call the Gunmen, whose phone lines were open twenty-four 
hours a day, and they would tell him where she was and she 
would only be in the next town and he would refuse their 
suggestions to wait for them and slam down the receiver 
and hitch a ride and bang on her front door and . . .

And she was turning this into some melodrama.  He would 
probably turn up in the same woods where he disappeared; 
the guys or Skinner would go and pick him up and then 
bring him to her.  Or she would come to him if he needed 
hospitalization.  For each reunion scenario that she 
played out, Mulder was always alive.  She would not allow 
herself to imagine the worst.  

She also realized that she had been ignoring her traveling 
companion.  "How have you been since Vegas?"

"Well, as you know, they got me out of there with a new 
identity and a one-way ticket to Seattle.  I got a job as 
a hospital lab technician for a while.  Not very exciting 
but at least I felt like I was making a positive 
contribution to society for a change.  Then John told me 
about an opportunity with a start-up company in North 
Carolina and so . . ."

Scully glanced over at her when her words drifted away and 
noticed that Susanne was playing with a ring on her left 
hand - a wedding ring.  Susanne caught her eyeing her and 
explained, "Part of the new identity.  By the way, I'm 
known as Susan Miller now."

"And I'm Donna Shelley."  Scully remembered pulling out 
her new ID while waiting in the ladies room at the rest 
area.  She had not given it much thought at the time but, 
just now when she said the name out loud, she started 
giggling.  "They're not terribly original, are they?"

"No, but I do give them points for the quick turnaround 
time."         

~	~	~	~	~	~	~	~	

Lone Gunmen Headquarters
5:12pm

For some reason that Frohike could not figure out, the 
crackling of tension in their offices was set so high that 
he was afraid that the sprinklers would suddenly go off.  
He was tired of tiptoeing around without knowing a good 
goddamn as to what was wrong.

Byers had returned within two hours after the other two 
had gotten back, and he had not uttered one coherent 
sentence since sitting down in front of his PC, waiting 
for Susanne to check in.  Never mind that they would 
probably not reach their destination for another couple of 
hours - he was going to wait them out and drive crazy 
anyone within earshot in the meantime.

In an attempt to diffuse Byers' blood pressure from 
reaching critical levels and calm the atmospheric waters, 
Frohike patted him on the shoulders.  "You did good work 
this morning, getting everything pulled together within a 
couple of hours."

Byers was in no mood to be placated.  "Let's not confuse 
the issues here.  This is a temporary solution - Scully 
may not be able to stay with Susanne for very long."

"Why not?  Susanne's been protected.  She's been doing 
well with her cover."

"And I don't want to see it compromised with this latest 
development."

"Wait a minute."  Frohike backed away from his partner and 
circled the table to face him.  "Since when did Scully 
become a `development'?  If Mulder heard you say that . . 
."

"But he's not here.  And it's the best that we could have 
done in the short term."  Byers' tone softened but not his 
delivery.  "They're both wanted by people working for the 
shadows in the government.  If they find one, they find 
them both."
     
He had contemplated his situation during the long drive 
home and reached the conclusion that he'd been patient far 
too long.  He wanted to be selfish.  He saw no good reason 
for Susanne and he to be apart the way they were - with 
limited contact and having little time for even the most 
private of conversations.  Mulder and Scully obviously got 
to be a bit selfish somewhere along the way - why couldn't 
he have a little happiness for himself?  

Frohike gave up when Byers refused to carry on with the 
argument.  He left the main office area and nearly ran 
over Langly.  "What's with him?"

Langly hunched his shoulders up with his patented `how the 
hell should I know' pose but Frohike was already down the 
hallway and not looking back.  He knew exactly what was 
bugging Byers - he was also sure that Frohike would have 
immediately seen the signs if his own concern for Dana 
Scully had not been overriding his emotions.  

Langly decided that an unbiased approach was needed in 
this case.  "Why don't you take a break for a bit?"

Byers never took his eyes off of the screen.  "No."

"Byers, it's going to be - minimum - another hour before 
they check in.  Go out and take a walk.  Go upstairs and 
take a bubble bath."  Langly smiled.  He knew that would 
get his attention.  "Just get out and do something before 
this place blows apart.  I swear, between your scowling 
and Skinner calling every ten minutes for an update, *I* 
should be drawing a bath right now."  He stood right 
beside Byers and began to shoo him away from his post.  
"I'll be right here waiting.  If a message comes in before 
you get back, I'll find you.  Girl Scout honor."

Somehow, the thought of Langly in a short green dress 
uniform with that green beret sitting atop his long blonde 
hair began to eat away at Byers' bad mood.  "OK, OK."            

~	~	~	~	~	~	~	~	~

Carpenter, NC
6:16pm

Susanne walked her through a tour of the house.  "It's 
convenient to both the interstates and the airport, in 
case I need to leave in a hurry.  Like this morning."  She 
continued on into the kitchen while Scully remained behind 
in the dining room.  "I'll give you the codes for the 
house.  They are changed about every ten days - I hope 
that you're good at memorizing numbers.  Would you like 
some tea?"  

She filled the tea kettle and set it on the stove.  
"Motion detectors with lights are at the exterior doors 
and the four corners of the house.  I don't get many false 
alarms but, during the early spring and fall, I do get a 
number of deer."  She came back into the dining room and 
sized up her new housemate.  "You know, Dana, you're not 
looking well.  Do you want to lie down for a bit?"

"I think that I just need to freshen up.  The tea sounds 
wonderful, and I am getting a bit hungry."

"I can have dinner ready shortly.  After that ride, you 
probably don't want something terribly heavy.  How does a 
salad and steamed zucchini and squash sound?  That's the 
advantage of being out here in the country - you get all 
these roadside places to pick up fresh items."  Susanne 
pointed out the bathroom to her.  "There are more towels 
in the closet if you need them.  I'm just going to drop a 
line to John to let him know that we've made it home."

"I'd like to talk to them also, if I could."

"All I'm doing right now is leaving them a message on a 
Usenet newsgroup under one of my many aliases.  It's not 
the most efficient medium, but it is convenient and 
quick."  She noted the dejected look on Scully's face.  
"Don't worry.  We have a scheduled call with them at 
eleven o'clock tonight."

~	~	~	~	~	~	~	~

Rutland, VT
9:23pm

"Be it ever so humble."

Marita glanced around the antiseptic apartment.  "It will 
do."  It always did, she thought;  Alex could come up with 
the perfect hiding place for a time or two before they had 
to move on, but she missed her old apartment in New York.  
The permanence of it, of knowing where things were and 
where she stood.  She missed having her possessions about 
her and men waiting for her on the other end of the phone.

Too many of those men are now dead - burned beyond 
recognition - or have gone missing in the months since 
that purge, since Alex had gotten her out of that clinic 
and they'd first started to run.  She caught a glimpse of 
herself in the bathroom mirror as she followed Alex into 
the bedroom and a shiver ran down her spine as she 
remembered how she first looked before her recovery.  
"Someone knows."

Alex crossed the room to put a suitcase into the closet.  
"Obviously."

She set one of the bags on the bed and began to unpack.  
"Who was that person from this morning?  I didn't 
recognize him."

"Don't know.  He's not someone from the old glory days."

"You probably shouldn't have killed him.  We could have 
gotten some information out of him."

"No.  Guys like that, that do those kinds of jobs, don't 
have the kind of information that we need."  He settled 
into the lone chair in the room.  "He might have been able 
to tell us who paid him to try to kidnap you, but he 
wouldn't have known who initially gave that order."

"How can you be so sure?"

"Because I used to be just like him."    

He had been watching her from the far side of the room as 
she removed her clothing from the bag and sorted them into 
the dresser drawers.  He had seen her do this so many 
times that he was able to pick up on her routine - her 
underwear and nightwear always went to the top drawers, 
sweaters in the lower left-hand one, and knits in the 
lower right. The bathrobe would be the last item pulled 
out and was usually draped on any chair in the room.  "Are 
you ever going to tell me about her?"

She glanced at him, knowing exactly what he was 
questioning and wondering where he wanted this 
conversation to go.  "There isn't much to tell."

"It's not true what they told you.  That first time."  He 
was still having trouble believing it himself.  Before he 
found himself in that Tunisian prison, he had never 
considered that Marita would get pregnant.  She had always 
made it quite clear that she intended to be in the game, 
not watching it from the sidelines saddled with a child.        
"It's not true."

She was becoming bored with the subject matter.  "So you 
keep saying."

"Look, I wouldn't have just abandoned you."

Marita let out a small laugh.  "We both know that given 
the circumstances, you probably wouldn't have been there 
for me.  I don't hold that against you in any way.  Truly.  
I understand that what interests you above it all is its 
worth - its bargaining power.  I have growing in me what 
the old man could not obtain for himself."  She had 
stopped unpacking and placed a hand on her belly.  "Don't 
look so dejected, Alex.  You keep your part of the bargain 
and I'll keep mine.  This is *our* future.  I'm not going 
anywhere."

"Did she have a name?"

"I never got around to giving her one."

Now it was Alex's turn to sneer.  "Liar.  You would have 
had one picked out - one for a boy and one for a girl, 
unless you knew the sex prior to the birth.  So what was 
the name?"

"Afterwards."

"After what?"

"After this."

Marita draped the bathrobe along the back of the chair 
behind Alex and then bent down to kiss him, hard and with 
urgency.  She then stepped back, pulling him with her 
towards the bed - towards a few minutes of not having to 
think about the child that had been lost and not having to 
plan for the new one.

Afterwards, they had both drowsed for a time.  Marita got 
up from the bed and reached for the robe on the chair. 

He heard her mumble something when her back was turned to 
him.  "What?"

She turned to face him, tying the sash.  "Elaine.  I would 
have named her Elaine."

~	~	~	~	~	~	~	~

Rutland, VT
5:02am

Marita silently padded into the kitchen and headed for the 
refrigerator.  Alex knew her habits and what to stock for 
her when he made the arrangements for the apartment.  She 
removed the small container of milk and set the carton on 
the countertop while she hunted for a saucepan.  

Warm milk had been a favorite of hers since childhood.  It 
reminded her of the cold evenings when she and her sisters 
would be wrapped in blankets in front of the fireplace and 
sip on the warm milk or sometimes, for a treat, cocoa 
before they dropped off to sleep.  Life had been simpler 
then, and sometimes she needed the reminder of a more 
innocent time while the world was swirling madly about 
her.  There were a few mugs in an overhead cabinet and, 
next to them, a small container of nutmeg.  He had 
remembered her fondness for the spice.

Pouring the hot milk into the mug and then adding a few 
shakes from the spice box, she sat down at the dinette 
table to wait for Alex to finish showering.  He would be 
leaving in a few hours and not be back for several weeks, 
he had said.  He had to go and `be seen' in some other 
places to throw those who were interested in them off the 
track.  But he would be back.  And in the meantime, she 
had some plans of her own to make.

Alex seemed genuinely concerned for her health and for 
their baby.  Yes, their baby, she reminded herself;  Alex 
must always believe that this baby is his.  

She did not question it when the old man first made the 
suggestion - obviously the mutations that her eggs carried 
did not evolve well with Alex's `contribution'.  Perhaps 
he did not carry any of the variables from his episode 
with the black substance.  Perhaps this was why her first 
attempt had come out so horribly, horribly wrong.  Another 
substitute had to be found if she were to give birth to 
`the first chapter in the renewal of humankind', as the 
old man put it.  

No, she did not question it, but she knew.  The old man's 
obsession with Fox Mulder was apparent even through his 
weak dismissals of his impatience with him.  He spoke of 
Mulder with more fondness than he ever gave for his own 
son.  

In these last months, as his health began to deteriorate 
at an alarming rate, he would ramble on before sleeping -
about the operation that was to have given him the 
capabilities of the gods.  About the previous 
experimentation with the black substance on Mulder and his 
connection to the recent operation.  About the matter and 
the blood and the other substances that Mulder had 
contributed to their inventory for further examination and 
exploration.  

The old man had offered her another chance to influence 
the future and she took it without hesitation.  To have 
that power, to know that her child might secure the 
protection that her future needed, was singularly 
enticing.  And when she was sure that the procedure had 
taken hold, she manipulated the weak man into telling her 
where Alex had been held and planted the seed that he 
would be most beneficial to protect her gestating project.  
Whether he realized that he was being used or not or even 
cared, the old man had acted upon her suggestions to bring 
Alex back into her life.

It was only a matter of time before she could manipulate 
Alex into getting rid of the old man before he had a 
chance to develop a guilty conscience and confess her 
secrets.  But the incident this morning meant that someone 
else knew or at least suspected her motivations.  Greta 
was the most likely choice.  The nurse may have listened 
in on some of those conversations and divulged that 
information to protect herself from the old man's 
supporters.  Perhaps Alex might like toying with her for 
an evening or two before gutting a confession out of her.      

Marita continued to sip her hot milk while watching him 
through the open bedroom door.  They had been able to pass 
the word on to Skinner to get Dana Scully to a safe place.  
No harm must come to that woman if she indeed was carrying 
Mulder's child.  The old man had kept his surveillance of 
those two a priority over the years but more so in the 
last couple of months.  He had been babbling those last 
few days about a renewed spirit in their midst.  Could he 
have known about the pregnancy or even had a hand in it as 
he did with hers?  

Scully had not appeared overly distraught about her 
condition but was apprehensive about acknowledging it.  
Marita was curious as to why but could wait for her 
answer.  Wait until after the baby was born.  If Scully 
indeed was able to produce a specimen for the cause, she 
might prove useful in future developments.  And if not, 
then she could still be used to secure Mulder's release.  
Beyond that, she held little value in Marita's eyes.

~	~	~	~	~	~	~	~

Lone Gunmen Headquarters
Saturday
10:59am

Byers paced behind the man seated among the bank of PCs.  
"Come on, DJ.  Give it to me."

The dark-haired man continued with his keying.  "Settle 
down, Curly.  This will take a moment or two to set up."

"Curly?"  Frohike and Langly had now entered the room and 
caught the tail end of their conversation.

"Don't tell me that these guys have never seen you with 
your hair down?"  Seeing Byers' embarrassment, DJ 
continued. "Back in college, we'd started out in ROTC 
together, short hair and all.  But in between semesters, 
we'd let our hair grow.  Beards and mustaches too.  
Problem was, when his hair started to get a bit long, it 
would curl at the ends.  So he got nicknamed Curly."

It was at times like these that Byers wished he didn't 
blush so easily.  "It was the lesser of the evils.  Some 
of those other names wouldn't have been allowed in polite 
society."

Langly was now intrigued.  "Such as?"

"Are you kidding?"  DJ was enjoying watching his buddy 
relive the old college trauma.  "He was named after a 
president who specialized in womanizing and had his head 
almost blown off.  Hell, we had our pick."

"But the rules were that you had to be able to choose one 
that you could scream out in public without inviting 
arrest."  Byers visibly cringed at remembering some of the 
more colorful alternatives.   

"I notice that you kept the beard.  Trying to compensate 
for taking a government desk job instead of getting your 
commission?"

"I wasn't cut out for the military life."

"Your dad was none too pleased, though."

Byers paused to consider his father's reaction to the 
decision to drop out of the ROTC program.  "I like to 
think that he understood."

"But if he could see what you do now."  A series of screen 
flashes caught DJ's eye, and he turned his attention back 
to running program.  "OK.  Here it comes."

The Gunmen gathered around the main monitor while DJ 
continued, "It looks like they've thrown in a couple of 
extra variables, but everything else looks about the 
same."

Langly sat down at the next station and prepared to work. 
"So what do we do with all of this?"

"You'll want to establish a pattern of hits either in date 
order or the frequency of visitations at each crosspoint.  
You say that you've got resolutions from the satellites 
for a specific period at a specific place?  You might be 
able to match them with these other unknowns to determine 
where it was just before or after that location."

Activity on the overhead monitors announced Skinner's 
arrival to the headquarters.  Introductions were made, and 
DJ was urged to continue with running explanation.

"Curly here has been avoiding alluding any of this to 
extraterrestrial activity.  But I got to wonder - most 
people would use this program for tracking incoming and 
outgoing, not something moving from place to place.  
Weapons don't usually skip around."

Skinner provided their defense.  "We need to determine if 
there are more than one of these things out there and, if 
so, do they travel together."

"The dates then come into play.  Are they leaving and 
returning on any kind of a regular basis?  If they're 
returning, we have a set of signatures to look for with 
the satellites."

"And if they're not?"

Frohike interrupted them.  "We'll establish parameters 
based upon what we do have and pray that we get some 
hits."

DJ overlooked Langly's progress.  "There have been 
significant modifications to the programming since I last 
worked on the projects.  Without knowing what the military 
designated for these other variables, I might be leading 
you into a missile silo for all I know."

Skinner asked Byers about getting an update on Scully's 
latest check-in, and they crossed the room to allow the 
others to work in peace.

"Who is that guy?" Skinner asked.

"Let's just say that he may have had a hand in the 
original concept."

"He's *military*?"

"Not anymore.  He's a games developer for . . . well, 
you'd know the names;  I'd just rather not say too much.  
We've been trading favors for a while."

Several hours would pass with Langly punctuating the air 
with cursing after every realignment of the variables led 
to gibberish on his screen.  The last thirty minutes, 
however, both DJ and Langly sounded positively orgasmic 
with enthusiasm as they keyed closer to an end result.

"OK," DJ announced.  "We've got a place that's getting 
more than its statistical fair share."

"Define `fair share'," Frohike called out from across the 
room.

"If I said that, in proportion, it gets more hits than 
Cindy Margolis' site, would that mean anything to you?"

Frohike let out a low wolf whistle, and the rest joined 
him in laughter as soon as they made the connection. 

DJ began pulling the papers out of the laser printer.  
"Since this printout data is fairly recent, there's a good 
chance that you could still find something there."

"Where?"  

"Would you believe Devils Lake, North Dakota?"

"We need to call in the Marines."  Frohike looked over his 
shoulder to see Skinner coming back into the room.  "Or 
one in particular."

DJ teased the Assistant Director, "You mean `ex-Marine', 
don't you?"

"There's no such thing as an ex-Marine."  Skinner's tone 
of voice left no doubt that this was not a laughing matter 
to him.

Frohike stepped between the two before additional words 
could be exchanged.  "You could use some backup out there.  
What do you say, guys?  Road trip?"

Byers looked up from the new printouts.  "Take Langly with 
you.  I'll stay here and monitor communications."

Frohike turned around and read what Byers' expression was 
telegraphing - that he did not want to be out of regular 
contact with Susanne - and sympathized.  "Yeah, and if 
Scully needs anything, someone should be close by.  And we 
still haven't heard from Krycek either."

"Somehow, I get the impression that he just might be there 
waiting for us," Skinner added.  "So, who's going to play 
travel agent and make the arrangements?"


=======================
~~ to be continued ~~
=======================


begin part 3


The Wrong Kind of Paradise 
by Martha
marthalgm@yahoo.com


Carpenter, NC
Saturday
3:16pm

Scully sipped the lemonade slowly in the simmering heat of 
the not-yet-summer afternoon.  Lounging with her feet up on 
the ottoman with the ceiling fan twirling slowly just above 
her, she kept a watch on the county road from the house's 
screened-in porch.  Mercifully, the porch faced east, and 
she was spared the full force of the afternoon sun.

Earlier that morning, Susanne had taken her to a local flea 
market to pick up some clothes.  She had initially 
hesitated at the idea of doing so, but Susanne had assured 
her that there would be a quality of selection to choose 
from - albeit of a casual variety - and she would need some 
items to tide her over until the Gunmen's promise of 
funding came through.  She had found one of those long 
tannish gauzy skirts with a pullover top to her liking 
along with a chambray skirt and blouse.  A faded pair of 
jeans and a man's Hawaiian-print shirt rounded out her 
purchases.  She had made Susanne wait in the parking lot 
while she went back inside the building to hunt down a pair 
of sandals at the last moment.  

Susanne had given her one of her cotton nightgowns to sleep 
in, the kind that had the little blue flowers printed on it 
and ribbons threaded throughout the bodice area.  She had 
changed back into it to take a nap when they got home, and 
she wore it still.  Her mother had warned her that she 
would have moments of fatigue and to take the time to lie 
down for twenty minutes or so to rest up, but Scully 
thought that she was talking about later on when she had an 
additional twenty or thirty pounds to lug around. The 
morning sickness that had dogged her sister-in-law Tara 
was, thankfully, a no-show so far.  Even her mother's 
warning about the smell of coffee becoming an adversary was 
not panning out as Susanne only kept tea in the house.  And 
the orange Pekoe of ordinary Lipton soothed what morning 
stomach jitters she had.      

Susanne had warned her that she would probably go out while 
she was sleeping to buy more food and reminded her of the 
alarm situation.  There was the code for the two entrances, 
the front door and the door leading to the porch.  The 
windows were never to be opened and were on a separate 
alarm keypad.  A second generator ran the household 
lighting and computer equipment in the event that any wires 
were cut.  The house was at the end of the county road so 
there should not be any traffic coming towards the house; 
the person delivering the mail used the driveway to turn 
around but would never pass the perimeter fence.  

Scully set down the empty glass on a side table amid a 
cellphone and her weapon - another one of Susanne's 
suggestions, to keep both within line of sight at all 
times.    

As of eleven o'clock last night when the Gunmen had called, 
there was still no word from Marita and no further 
information or leads on Mulder.  Susanne had let her speak 
with Frohike first, where she promptly started to scold him 
for the new name she had been saddled with.  He apologized 
profusely, blaming the last-minute heads up that they had 
received and offered to change it.  Scully turned him down, 
knowing that they had probably already gone to great 
lengths to set up a suitable new background for her based 
upon that name.  Frohike had said that a package would be 
arriving Tuesday via the usual channels and that Susanne 
would know what that meant.  

Byers had then gotten on the line and given her a message 
from Skinner that he would be seeing her mother in the 
morning to let her know what had happened and that Scully 
was safe.  After thanking them, she handed the phone back 
to Susanne and watched her as she slipped to the other side 
of the room to continue the conversation in hushed tones. 
Scully had felt like a voyeur, eavesdropping on moments 
that were meant to be private, so she quietly walked back 
into the extra bedroom and settled in for the evening.        

The unfamiliar sound of an automobile coming up the unpaved 
driveway interrupted her recollections.  Scully reached for 
her weapon and tried to focus on the driver - there were 
simply too many white Camrys on the road these days to be 
able to quickly distinguish as to whether it was Susanne 
returning from the market or someone who was going to 
become very unwelcome.  She had quickly settled down and 
released her hold on the weapon as Susanne waved out the 
open driver's side window, as if to reassure her that a 
friendly presence was approaching.  

~	~	~	~	~	~	~	~	~

Minneapolis - St. Paul International Airport
Saturday
8:10pm

Skinner fastened his seatbelt buckle as the Northwest 
flight crew underwent its pre-flight announcements.  

He had decided to call the civilian travel office that the 
FBI contracted with to book his flight out of National.  It 
was work related after all, he thought, and it gave him a 
good basis for an alibi when he did not return to DC before 
Monday morning, when people might start asking about Dana 
Scully's whereabouts.  Frohike and Langly were planning on 
leaving from Dulles in the morning, to give them more time 
to sort through their equipment and decide what they could 
carry on without setting off any of the airport alarms.

After receiving confirmation on his itinerary, he called 
the office and left a voicemail for his assistant, letting 
her know that he would not be in the office until almost 
noon on Monday.  He then called Scully's extension and left 
a similar message there - knowing that Scully would never 
get that message but that anyone who might be listening in 
would and think that they were conducting business as 
usual.

Before going to the Gunmen's headquarters earlier in the 
day, he had kept his promise to Scully by visiting her 
mother to explain the circumstances of her disappearance 
and to warn her that people may come to interview her once 
that disappearance became common knowledge.

Margaret Scully had not been shocked that her daughter was 
being pursued, though Skinner thought that she may have 
been hiding it well; she appeared to be more concerned with 
her daughter's health.  Though neither specifically used 
the word `pregnancy' during that short visit, they silently 
acknowledged that both knew of Scully's condition and 
reassured the other that she was aware enough to seek the 
appropriate medical attention that she needed.  

As he was leaving, Skinner warned her that she may be 
watched and that any incoming phone calls might be 
compromised.  If other family members were to call to 
inquire about her daughter at a later date, Mrs. Scully 
confidently replied, she would be able to carry off the 
conversation without giving away the game.  She reminded 
Skinner that as a Navy wife, she would spend many months 
with little contact from her husband and many times did not 
know where on any of the seven seas he might have been.  
She did insist, however, that some plan be worked out for a 
regular update on Scully's welfare and, if possible, to 
actually be able to speak with her if circumstances 
allowed.  Skinner promised her that the Gunmen would make 
every effort to keep her in regular contact with her 
daughter.  

Skinner had given a cursory look around the Scully house as 
he drove away.  If anyone had noticed that he had been 
there, he had his explanation at hand - he was simply 
looking for Scully to inform her of the latest developments 
in the search for Mulder and, when he could not contact her 
at her own place, he went to her mother's.  Nothing unusual 
in that, he convinced himself.      

The flight into Grand Forks, North Dakota, passed by 
uneventfully, and Skinner picked up his rental car and 
started driving west across Highway 2 towards Devils Lake.  
That late at night, under the clear sky that the 
forecasters had predicted, Skinner had thought that there 
would be dozens of stars to keep him company.  But the sky 
was pitch dark and seemed a bit eerie, and he cracked a 
window to let the cool air keep him awake until he reached 
his Red Roof Inn an hour and a half later.  

~	~	~	~	~	~	~	~	~

Devils Lake, North Dakota
Sunday 
8:45am

A quick meal of ham and eggs and coffee at the local 
Breakfast House started off his day.  Skinner debated with 
himself as to how best approach the local law enforcement 
with his inquiries.  He decided to not identify Mulder as a 
fellow FBI agent but rather as someone who was a possible 
witness to an event.  After assuring the lone person 
manning the police station that morning that Mulder was not 
a criminal nor suspected of any wrongdoing, Skinner was 
told that there had been no John Does recorded in over a 
month at either the jail or the hospital.  As he turned to 
leave, the clerk began to tell him that there was a group 
of odd people over at the campgrounds off of Route 57.  The 
buzzer that accompanied the opening door drowned out the 
clerk's last comment, and Skinner asked him to repeat it.  

"They think they're looking for aliens.  Can you beat 
that?" 

Skinner remembered seeing the exit for the campgrounds 
earlier that morning and, within thirty minutes, found 
himself driving along the road encircling the lake, trying 
to figure out how to distinguish alien seekers from your 
ordinary everyday campers.  He figured that he had found 
the right crowd when he came across several silver trailers 
with small satellite dishes attached to the roofs along 
with other antennae equipment.  

He approached three men who where gathered at one of the 
picnic tables drinking coffee and pulled out his ID.  "I'm 
Assistant Director Walter Skinner with the FBI.  Can I 
speak to the person in charge of your group?"

A tall thin man in a plaid shirt and jeans stood.  "That 
would be me.  Jim McCaskill.  Don't tell me those local 
police boys went and called the FBI on us."

"Actually, I'm here on a somewhat unofficial capacity.  I'm 
conducting a search for a missing person, and it's possible 
that you might have crossed paths with him within the last 
two weeks."  He pulled out an old black-and-white file 
photo and passed it on to the men.  "He's about six foot 
one, brown hair, hazel eyes.  Name's Mulder."

Six pairs of eyes stared back at him.  "Mulder?" McCaskill 
repeated.  "Fox Mulder?"

Skinner forced his chest to squeeze out the air that had 
become trapped in his lungs.  Could it be this easy, he 
thought.  "Yes, Fox Mulder.  Have you seen him?"

McCaskill pointed back at him.  "Wait right here."  He took 
the photo and ran over to the second trailer, knocking 
first, and then entering it.  A moment later, he emerged 
and was followed by a blonde woman in jeans and a red 
sweater.

She had the photo in her hand as she walked up to Skinner.  
"Do you know this man?  You're FBI, right?  Do you work 
with him?"

Skinner realized that the woman did not know him, but he 
recognized her from the case file photos.  She was Sharon 
Graffia, who had somehow gotten Mulder and Scully involved 
on a case with a passenger jet and an alien craft that may 
or may not have been shot down by the military.  The same 
case that they were investigating when Pendrell had been 
killed.  The last he knew of Sharon was that she had 
checked herself into a hospital for psychiatric evaluation.
"Yes, I'm AD Skinner, Mulder's supervisor.  Have you spoken 
with him lately?"

"No," Sharon replied.  "We're looking for him, actually."

"How did you know that he was missing?"  Skinner looked 
around at the gathering crowd.  "And why here?"

"We had some help."  Sharon turned and motioned one of the 
group forward.  

Skinner crouched down as the boy approached.  He had 
thought that boys of that age grew in spurts, but Gibson 
Praise hardly seemed to have aged in the two years that had 
passed since he and his agents had seen him last.  In fact, 
the only difference appeared to be that his hair was now a 
dark brown as opposed to the sandy color on the videotape 
of that deadly chess match in Canada.

Gibson spoke first.  "She's OK, isn't she?"

Skinner began to smile.  "Dana Scully, you mean?"

"Yes.  You've been worried about her.  And her partner."

"Fox Mulder."

"He's not here right now.  He was, but he went with the 
rest of them."

Skinner looked up at McCaskill and Sharon.  "The rest of 
them?"

"You'll see," Gibson reassured him.  "We'll find them."  
McCaskill tapped the boy on the shoulder, and they returned 
to the main picnic table to fix themselves a bowl of 
cereal.

Skinner was still trying to believe his luck in coming in 
contact with the child after all this time.  "How long has 
he been here?"

"We found him just outside Denver about four months ago."  
Sharon and Skinner began to walk a bit away from the crowd. 
"Or maybe he found us.  He just seemed to know the kind of 
work that we were doing and started giving us information 
about some of the places where we should be doing our 
research."

"Did you ask him how he knew these things?"  Skinner 
noticed that she was hesitating about saying anything 
further.  "You know that he has gifts in certain areas."

"That he does.  At first, he kept telling us that we didn't 
need to believe him but that it wouldn't hurt to go and see 
for ourselves.  He's a very special boy."

"More than you know."  They had stopped walking and turned 
back to watch Gibson eating his breakfast.  "I don't 
understand how he's managed to survive.  We thought we lost 
him a couple of years ago."

"He says that he would approach only those that he knew 
wouldn't hurt or betray him.  He was with some farm or some 
reservation families before he found us."  Sharon paused to 
remember a face from a few years back.  "There's just this 
quality about him that reminds me of someone."

"What did he mean by `he went with the rest of them'?"

"Gibson doesn't elaborate much, just tells enough to keep 
us in the right direction and stopping us from going about 
things in the wrong way.  I think that he's still afraid to 
trust.  I mean, he can clearly see who each of us are down 
to our last thoughts.  He'll even let me mother him a 
little but . . ."  She looked up at Skinner, slightly 
embarrassed.  "That's not answering your question.  This 
gets a bit weird."

Tell me about it, he thought.  "Weird is why I'm here."

"About ten days ago, we were in Rapid City, and Gibson was 
looking at our maps when all of a sudden he tells me that 
we've got to go to North Dakota.  Pointed out this specific 
location and everything.  Says that they're all here.  When 
I asked him what he meant by `they', he tells me that it's 
all the people in the spaceships and that they're leaving 
soon.  Well, when he said spaceships, the first thing that 
flashed through my mind was my friend Max, and then Gibson 
says that no, Max wasn't there but that Fox Mulder was."

"He said that Mulder was here?"  Skinner shook his head.  
"Gibson only reads minds - how could he have known that?"

"He must have been in contact before with someone who knew.  
Every time he says we need to be somewhere, we find things.  
So we tell him that we'll be driving this way shortly, and 
Gibson's like, no, you have to leave now.  So he and Darryl 
and I get on a plane, and we're here a couple of hours 
later."

"And you saw something."

"Yes."  Sharon looked away for a moment before continuing. 
"Well, no, I didn't see anything.  We'd gotten a car at the 
airport, and we were driving around.  Gibson tells us to 
pull over, and he gets out and starts running in this open 
field.  Darryl must have gotten out and ran after him, but 
I couldn't move.  I just had this strange feeling - like I 
knew what was out there.  I could sense . . ."  Her words 
drifted but she quickly recovered.  "I just couldn't move.  
And then it happened.  There was this bright beam from the 
sky, very quick, and then it went out.  It got so quiet, no 
insects, no wind - nothing - and then I started calling for 
the others.  Gibson came back to the car alone."

"What happened to Darryl?"

"According to Gibson, he was taken.  I told him that this 
was not a joking matter - I know what it's like to be 
taken, if only for a short time, but he insisted."  The two 
began walking back up the road.  "Everyone else got here 
the following evening.  At first, we were only staying to 
see if Darryl would show up.  Personal experience tells me 
that if he was abducted by whatever was out there, then 
more than likely he'll be returned somewhere close."

"Has he been found?"

"Not yet."

Skinner stopped walking when he noticed that Gibson had 
left the picnic area and was slowly making his way towards 
them.  "And yet you've stayed?"

"We've come across some places that appear to be some sort 
of gathering or staging area.  The ground impressions are 
enormous, and no one local seems to be able to account for 
them.  We're finishing up the soil analysis now."  Sharon 
was startled when Gibson tugged on her sweater.  "Gibson, 
are you all right?"

Gibson turned his attention towards Skinner.  "Mister?  Her 
name is Scully, isn't it?"

He nodded.  "The lady who helped you a couple of years ago?  
Dana Scully?"

"There's someone close by calling out her name."

Sharon played with the boy's hair.  "Are you sure it's not 
just Mr. Skinner thinking about her?"

"No.  There is someone out there, heading this way."  
Gibson walked slowly out to the middle of the road and 
pointed to a figure staggering alongside a fence in the 
distance. 

Skinner felt a chill run down his spine.  "Mulder."

Gibson shook his head.  "It's not Mulder."

Sharon began walking towards the other side of the road to 
get a closer look.  "Oh my god, it's Darryl."

Several of the campsite group, including Skinner, ran down 
the road to help their returning member.  They tried to 
carry him back to the camping area, but Darryl remained 
rigid, as if frozen, with his hands clenched in fists and 
knees unbending.  He was muttering something incoherent, 
but it sounded like he was repeating a chant over and over 
again.  

They got him to finally sit down on a bench, and Sharon 
brought a cup of water to his visibly parched lips.  Darryl 
swallowed some but most of it ended up on his mud-stained 
jeans.  As Sharon reached for a refill, he started his 
chanting again but was quieted when feed more water.

Darryl was silent for a moment, as if not noticing that he 
was back among his friends, until Gibson approached him. 
They locked eyes, and Darryl began his chant again, only 
this time his voice was louder and clearer.  

It was still indecipherable to Skinner until Gibson 
momentarily turned his way and started chanting with the 
returnee:  Dana Scully, Dana Scully.   

Skinner quickly moved to Darryl's side and knelt beside him 
opposite Gibson.  He observed the eye contact between the 
two, sensing that one was reaching into the terrified mind 
of the other and soothing it as the man's chanting became 
clearer and softer.  Skinner felt himself beginning to 
hyperventilate when he realized that the man was indeed 
calling out the name of one of his agents - a name that he 
should not have known.  "How do you know Dana Scully?"

Darryl turned to him and then looked down at his own 
clenched fists.  He held out his right arm and then slowly 
uncurled his fingers.  The tips of his nails were caked in 
red from blood, and Skinner could see that the man's hand 
must have been in that position for some time, desperately 
digging into his own skin.  It took a few seconds for it to 
register that the man was harboring something precious 
within that grasp.

A small gold cross necklace.

And the chanting continued.  ". . . for Dana Scully.  Dana 
Scully."

=======================
   to be continued
=======================  

begin part 4

The Wrong Kind of Paradise
by Martha
marthalgm@yahoo.com

==============================================
Alone in the silence
She wakes up too soon and reaches for his arm
But she'll just keep reaching on
==============================================

Devils Lake, North Dakota
Route 57 Campgrounds
Sunday
10:19am

Skinner gently picked up the delicate cross necklace from 
Darryl's palm and held it before him.  It had to be hers, he 
thought.  There was no other explanation for it.  He pulled 
out a handkerchief, dropped the necklace into the middle, 
and carefully refolded it before placing it in his jacket.  
He turned his attention back to the returnee.  "He needs to 
see a doctor.  He's in shock."

Someone from the group shouted to another, "Kenny, bring the 
van around."

Skinner helped carry Darryl from the picnic bench to the 
spot that had cleared when the vehicle backed up to the main 
area.  Two others pulled Darryl through the open door and 
settled him onto one of the seats.  

"Are you coming with us?" one of them asked Skinner.

"I'll catch up in a few minutes."  He watched with the 
remainder of the group as the van pulled away and noticed 
that Gibson and Sharon were standing together but apart from 
the rest of the crowd.  He approached them.  "Gibson, do 
your parents know that you're alive?"

Gibson looked up at Sharon and then back at Skinner.  "No."

"Should I call them?"

Gibson continued to stare back at the man, as if to 
challenge his suggestion.  "They stopped looking for me a 
long time ago."

"I still think that they would like to hear that you are all 
right."

"They think I'm dead.  I know it's cruel to let them think 
that, but they'll just be worried all the time if they find 
out."

Skinner decided not to push the issue for the time being.  
"Will you be staying in the area for a while now?"

Sharon nodded and replied, "We'll wait until Darryl is out 
of the hospital, of course, but I think that we're pretty 
much finished here."

"Here's my card," Skinner reached into his jacket, "and this 
is the direct line to my office.  I have to leave first 
thing in the morning, and I want to make sure that you have 
this.  I want you to call me and let me know where you go.  
And if you run into any trouble, I want to know about it.  
I'll be there with any help that I can give."

Gibson spoke up again.  "That lady - Dana.  Are you going to 
give back her necklace?"

"Yes."

"She'll be sad, won't she?  She wanted him to keep it; 
that's why she gave it to him.  Now she'll think that he 
didn't want it."

"I'm sure that's not the reason, Gibson."  Sharon put a hand 
on his shoulder to try to get him to look at her.  "Maybe he 
gave it to Darryl because he knew that he was coming back 
first, to let her know that he was all right."

The boy continued to stare at Skinner.  "But he'll be back 
soon anyways.  He could have waited until then."

Sharon knelt down beside the boy.  "Gibson, how do you know 
that Agent Mulder is coming back?"

"I don't know.  I just do."

"Can you tell us when?"

Gibson began looking around, as if there was something else 
vying for his attention.  "Soon.  But not here."

"Can you tell us where?" Skinner asked, but Gibson had 
already begun to wander away from them back towards the 
trailers.  He watched with Sharon as the boy entered the 
nearest one.  "Listen, I have some colleagues who'll be in 
town later on this afternoon.  I'm going to send them out 
this way.  They're not law enforcement, but I think that 
they can be a lot of help to your research.  And they know 
Mulder and Scully quite well."

"Gibson seems quite taken with Dana."  Sharon pulled at the 
sleeves of her sweater as the morning chill began to wear 
off.  "We didn't meet under the best of circumstances, but 
she did visit me in the hospital a couple of times after 
that.  Maybe if we get to DC soon, we can come visit."

"I think that Scully would like meet Gibson again." 
Especially now, he thought to himself.

~	~	~	~	~	~	~	~	~       

Devils Lake General Hospital
12:22pm

The ringing surprised him as he had momentarily forgotten 
that he had a cellphone in his pocket.  "Skinner."

The voice was Frohike's.  "We're about to hit the town 
limits.  Where are you?"

"At the hospital."

"Care to elaborate?"

Skinner walked further down the hospital hallway away from 
the floor nurses' station.  "There's someone here who may 
have seen Mulder within the last ten days.  I'm waiting for 
the doctor to get through with him so that we can talk."

"He's *seen* Mulder?"

"This conversation will make more sense once you get here.  
Take the first exit on the bypass around Devils Lake and 
follow the signs."  He quickly hung up when he noticed that 
the doctor had exited the examining room and was talking to 
the group that had accompanied Darryl to the hospital.  He 
walked back to the main area and waited for the doctor to 
finish his brief summary of `let's wait and see' before 
approaching him.  "Doctor, I need to be able to question 
this man."

"I can't let you do that just now."

Skinner pulled out his FBI credentials and continued with 
his assertion.  "I'm pursuing a missing witness, someone 
that your patient has had contact with recently.  Now, they 
were both reported missing at about the same time, and you 
can see the condition of one of them.  Another man's life 
may be at stake here."

The doctor refolded the patient file and tucked it under his 
arm.  "He's not going to be able to tell you much.  If you'd 
wait until the fluids kick in and he gets some rest, he 
might actually start making some sense."

"What has he been saying?"

"He keeps asking for someone named . . . Kelly, I think, and 
mumbling something about telling her he's coming home soon."  
The doctor shook his head and headed for the nurses' desk.  
"Sorry, that's about all."

Skinner checked with the other men in the group.  After 
receiving assurances that they would remain to keep an eye 
on Darryl until he got back, Skinner thanked them and headed 
for the main exit where the two Gunmen were waiting for him.

Frohike hopped down off of the stone fence that surrounded 
the building.  "What's up, G-man?"

Langly was still stretched out on its ledge.  "Yeah, where's 
this witness?"  

"He's going to be out of it for a while."  Skinner paused at 
the bottom of the stairs and waited for them to join him. 
"I'll come back and question him later."

"So, how do you know he's seen Mulder?"

Skinner reached into his jacket and pulled out the 
handkerchief, opening the folds but not touching the 
necklace otherwise. 

Frohike genuinely seemed to be shocked.  "Is this what I 
think it is?"

"Is that - blood?"  Langly looked as if he faint on the 
spot.

"It's quite possible, but it probably belongs to the guy 
inside."  Skinner refolded the handkerchief and put it back 
in his jacket pocket.  "I'm going to hand this over to the 
labs when I get back and see if there is anything out of the 
ordinary here."

"So where to now?" Frohike asked.

"How do you guys feel about doing some camping?"

~	~	~	~	~	~	~	~	~

Devils Lake
Route 57 Campgrounds
2:01pm

Skinner had introduced the two Gunmen to Sharon Graffia and 
Jim McCaskill and was outlining their mutual interests. 
"There is someone else here you may have heard Mulder and 
Scully talk about before.  Gibson Praise."

"Whoa.  Really?"  Langly was pumped.

"The kid had the most amazing brain scans."  Frohike paused 
to consider the implications of someone with those abilities 
residing with a group that appeared to offer little in the 
way of protection and turned serious.  "Are other people 
aware that he's with you?"

"No."  Sharon looked to McCaskill.  "Well, not that we know 
of.  Is Gibson in any kind of danger?"

Skinner gave a quick look around to see if Gibson was in the 
area before continuing.  "How much of his past has he told 
you?"

McCaskill shook his head.  "At first we were sidetracked 
because he startled us with his being able to know exactly 
what we were looking for.  Once we got him to tell us his 
name, a quick search told us about his chess playing and 
what happened during that one match.  But the last we could 
find was that he was taken into protective custody.  After 
that, there was nothing."

"Gibson was kidnapped just after that incident."  Skinner 
lowered his voice and added, "And we're quite certain that 
he was subjected to some unusual medical testing."

"That would make sense," Sharon whispered.  "I found some 
old scars.  Gibson would never tell me about them.  Was this 
because of his special gifts?"

"Yes.  Do others ask you about him?  I mean, when you're out 
traveling.  I don't see other children here."

"We say he's mine," McCaskill replied.  "My wife and I lost 
our son some years back.  SIDS, they said.  Lost the wife 
right after that.  I still have the birth certificate for my 
child - figured that if we ever had to, we'd use it for 
Gibson."

The two Gunmen looked at each other in silent confirmation 
before Frohike made his offer.  "We have some experience in 
that area - Social Security Number, school records, 
immunization cards, that sort of thing.  If you're 
interested in going ahead and getting it done now."

~	~	~	~	~	~	~	~	~	

Skinner's apartment
Crystal City, VA
Monday
6:11pm

Rain delays in Minneapolis on the return flight put Skinner 
behind schedule in getting back to DC.  He had first stopped 
by the lab and given them the necklace, with explicit 
instructions to run every test known to man and science, 
stopping short of harming the evidence.  He would expect 
their report the following afternoon, he told them. 
Afterwards, he went upstairs to his office and found, to his 
relief, that there were no urgent messages or voicemails 
about or from Scully.  He decided it would be easier to get 
an early start on the paperwork in the morning.  

Skinner had already unlocked the door to his apartment 
before he noticed the lurker in the shadows.  "You're taking 
a chance showing up here."

"Your office hours suck."  Krycek did not wait for a verbal 
invitation, following Skinner inside and shutting the door 
behind him.

"How is Marita?  Have you gotten her settled?"

Krycek nodded and looked around the apartment, noting that 
not much had changed since the last time he was there.  "And 
Scully?"

"She's safe," Skinner replied and then added, "for the 
moment."

You're not going to tell me where she is, are you, Krycek 
thought.  He had other ways to mess with his mind.  "Were 
you able to get any leads on Mulder in North Dakota?"

Skinner dropped the mail he was sorting through onto the 
dinette table.  "Who says I was in North Dakota?"

"You should really learn to pay your way in cash or at least 
with fake credit cards if you don't want people to know 
where you've been."

Skinner remained calm but wasted no time in getting to his 
phone and punched in a number.  "Frohike, are you still with 
the group?"

"Yes, but not for long.  A couple of hours ago, one trailer 
pulled out of here for . . ."

"Don't tell me where," Skinner interrupted.  "I'm not sure 
my line is secure.  Will the rest follow shortly?"

"Yeah, they went to pick up the package in town, and then 
they're gone."

Skinner turned to face Krycek.  "Make sure that they get out 
OK."

"Will do.  I'm out."

"I'm heartbroken that you still don't trust me."  Krycek may 
have been playing the innocent, but he never expected to 
have the other man charge and pin him against the wall.  
"Hey, watch it."

Skinner applied more pressure to the fake arm to keep in 
place, reasoning that it might do more damage than a bare 
fist if there was any resistance.  "Who else knows?"

"Anyone who can get to your travel request and receipts."

A quick and reasonable answer, Skinner thought.  He released 
Krycek and backed away.  "I wasn't expecting to find 
anything."

"So you *have* come across something."

"People have a habit of dying when you're around."

"Only when they deserve it."  Krycek finished readjusting 
his jacket after their tussle.  "Hey, I didn't have to tell 
you about Marita nearly getting grabbed or getting those 
reports for you.  So did you find a lead or what?"   

Skinner thought it over for a moment.  "What do you know 
about North Dakota?"

"There's a missile silo there that I'm not anxious to see 
the insides of ever again."

"Apparently, there's an area around Devils Lake that started 
acting like a UFO Union Station some weeks ago.  A group 
that tracks that kind of activity went to check it out at 
about the same time Mulder and I went to Oregon, and one of 
their guys also ended up missing.  Only this guy shows back 
up with a message from Mulder for Scully."

"And that message is?"

"That he'll be home soon."

~	~	~	~	~	~	~	~	~

Lone Gunmen Headquarters
Thursday
9:59pm

Skinner entered the main work area to find Langly and 
Frohike examining archived satellite traffic.  "Good to know 
that you've gotten back in one piece.  Did Gibson and Sharon 
and the others get on the road OK?"

Frohike spoke first.  "They're heading for their base home 
in Indianapolis.  I take it that there's a lot of data that 
they want to sort through.  I was planning on contacting 
them next week about any findings."

"So what's been going on at the J. Edgar?"  Langly began 
scooping together the scattered disks.  "Has anyone noticed 
that Scully's gone missing?"

"That's why I've stayed away until now."  Skinner circled 
behind Langly to peek at the data scrolling on the monitors.   
"Someone in the mailroom apparently made a big stink about 
not being able to deliver folders and went to Personnel to 
see if she was on vacation.  They called me Tuesday morning.  
I went through the routine with Mrs. Scully.  We went to her 
apartment, found nothing out of place, spoke with the 
landlord.  We made all the right noises in front of 
witnesses.  She filed the missing person's report this 
morning - she didn't want my name on it for when Scully 
turns back up."

"They've called twice - Susanne and Scully," Byers added. 
"They want to know what we've found."

"About all we've told them is that we made a trip to North 
Dakota where there was evidence of activity but no 
verification.  She's going to call back again soon."  
Frohike sighed and shook his head.  "She's getting restless 
and making noises about getting back into the search 
herself."

"She can't do that," Skinner sharply replied.

Frohike snorted, "You tell her."

"Well, I've got to talk to her sometime."  Skinner reached 
into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small plastic 
evidence pouch that contained the cross necklace.  "I had 
the lab do every kind of test it could think of doing, and 
I've got nothing that connects to Mulder."

Langly quietly asked, "What about the blood?"

"Not his.  Must be Darryl's.  All the other residues can be 
attributable to human sources - sweat, most likely.  Too 
small for fingerprints."  Skinner ran his thumb lightly over 
the chain.  "I'm just not sure that I want to tell her that 
I have this."

"We could wait and let Mulder give it back to her."

"No, I should give it to her now.  At least then she'll know 
that there's been some attempt at contact on his part."  The 
necklace suddenly felt heavy in his palm.  "Mulder meant for 
Scully to get this.  When's the next phone call?"

Byers answered, "Tonight at eleven."

Skinner nodded, paused as if making a quick decision, and 
turned to Byers.  "Can you arrange it so that I can meet 
with her this weekend?"

"I thought that you didn't want to know where she was."

Frohike offered a compromise.  "We could have it couriered 
with our other information.  She'd have it by Monday."

"No."  Skinner placed the necklace back in his pocket and 
looked at his watch.  "I think that I need to explain this 
one in person."

~	~	~	~	~	~	~	~	

near Carpenter, NC
Route 50
Saturday
1:02pm

Skinner felt oddly out of place in the passenger seat of the 
rented Camry.  When he had asked Byers to arrange to let him 
meet with Scully, he did not expect the Gunman to invite 
himself along, much less do the driving.  But with what he 
had been able to decipher, he suspected that Byers had his 
own motives for making this trip.  

He had reminded Byers that the parking deck in his apartment 
complex had a video system and had arranged to be picked up 
several blocks away.  He packed a change of clothes and a 
few personal items inside his laptop bag to lessen suspicion 
should anyone be watching and note that he might be away for 
more than a few hours.  

They had listened to National Public Radio (NPR) stations 
and their `lighter' Saturday line-up fare to pass the time 
before Byers pointed out to Skinner to note certain street 
names for future reference.  The last few miles were taken 
slowly as the car maneuvered around deep puddles down the 
unpaved road and then the graveled driveway.  A white 
clapboard farmhouse awaited them at the end.

Susanne met them on the porch.  "Dana's in the kitchen, just 
off to the right," she motioned to Skinner after their brief 
introduction.  She felt awkward in that she seemed to be 
trying to get rid of him quickly so that she could be with 
Byers, but she released that guilt once the two were alone.  
"Hello."

"Hello there, yourself."  Byers was so sure that, once the 
two had some time to themselves without conspiracies or 
imminent death hanging over them, he would be able to find 
the words that he had only rehearsed in his mind when he was 
finally alone with Susanne after all this time.  Seeing her, 
however, crumpled all those speeches faster than a well-
planned building implosion.  He finally recovered enough of 
his senses to reach out to her and draw her into an embrace.  

They stood there for a moment, hearing nothing but their own 
breathing, until Susanne broke the silence.  "How long can 
you stay?"

"I have to get Skinner back to DC sometime tomorrow.  Can 
you put up with us for that long?"

Susanne gave him a squeeze before letting Byers go.  "I 
think that I can manage that.  Come on inside."

"I need to contact the guys, let them know we got here 
safely."

Susanne took Byers' hand and led him into the house.  They 
had to pass the kitchen on the way to the computer room and 
saw that Scully was pouring a couple of glasses of tea.        

Skinner took one of them and sat down at the small wooden 
dinette set in the corner of the kitchen.  "Thank you, 
Scully.  You're looking well."

"I've been doing little except for sleeping and reading on-
line articles."  She closed the refrigerator door and joined 
him at the table.  "How is my mother?"

"Holding up.  I talked with her yesterday.  She filed a 
missing person's report so you're going to want to be 
careful with your picture being out there.  She knows you 
are safe, but of course she can't share that with the rest 
of your family."

She let out a tentative laugh that quickly turned into a 
sigh.  "I can just hear Bill now."

"I've had the opportunity to get an earful from him already.  
Mulder should probably not show up at any of your family 
gatherings any time soon."

Scully was now all seriousness at the mention of her partner 
and leaned forward across the table.  "I'm glad to hear that 
you're still in an active search for him.  The guys won't 
tell me much, and I know that you had to have found 
something up there."

"I'm not sure where to begin."  It was difficult to look her 
in the eye and say that, but he had no other opening line 
planned.  

"You have to tell me everything," Scully urged.  "I need to 
know - good or bad."

"I came across a group of UFO researchers that had some 
people that you might remember.  Sharon Graffia, for one."  
Skinner paused as he noted the surprised look on her face 
and wondered what the reaction would be when he completed 
his sentence.  "And Gibson Praise."

The sight of the sickly boy that she had once cradled in her 
arms flooded her thoughts.  "Gibson?  He's alive?"

"Yes, and still with whatever powers he possessed back then 
and maybe more to a higher degree now.  Gibson is the one 
who guided that group to North Dakota."

Scully reached out for Skinner's forearm.  "There's more, 
isn't there?"

"Gibson told them that that area was a major jump-off point 
for the kinds of crafts that I saw in Oregon.  He mentioned 
Mulder *by name* prior to their leaving for that place."  He 
placed his hand over hers.  "He also says that Mulder will 
be back."

"How?  How could he know?"  Scully pulled away and leaned 
back in the chair.  "Did he say when?"

"He just said that it would be soon.  I don't know if he 
really *does* know, but I think that he is telling the 
truth."  Here goes nothing, he thought.  "When they first 
got to the place that Gibson pointed out, one of their group 
disappeared.  Only Gibson and Sharon witnessed it, and it 
fits with what I saw when Mulder vanished.  Right after I 
found the group, the missing man turned up.  He was calling 
your name, and he had this with him."  Skinner reached into 
his shirt pocket and then held out his hand to her.

For a moment, it seemed to Scully as if the world had been 
plunged into a solar eclipse - everything had been blotted 
out and turned to black except for the illumination from the 
cross that lay before her in Skinner's palm.  She reached 
out and he turned his hand over to gently drop the necklace 
across her fingers.  She brought it closer to her face to 
examine it, but she already knew.  She knew that it was 
hers, the same one that she had fastened around Mulder's 
neck before he had left.  He was giving it back to her 
again.  

Scully swallowed hard and tried to find her voice.  "This 
man, the one who came back."

"I was able to question him before I left, but there wasn't 
that much that he could remember.  I showed him Mulder's 
picture, but he couldn't ID it.  He recognizes your name; he 
just doesn't know why he knows it.  He might remember more 
with time, but there's no guarantee."

"Why?"

"I don't know, Scully.  Maybe this is just Mulder's way of 
letting you know that he's coming back."

Her voice was suddenly flat, as if to mask her fear of what 
was now running through her mind.  "Or that it was his last 
chance to return this."  She looked up at Skinner, blinking 
her eyes in an unsuccessful effort to keep the tears from 
spilling over.  She stood with a hurried, "Excuse me," and 
left the kitchen.

Skinner listened to her footsteps trailing down the hallway 
and heard a door close a few seconds later.  This is going 
to be a long afternoon, he thought as he too left the 
kitchen and wandered out onto the screened-in porch.  

=========================
~~ to be continued ~~
========================= 


begin part 5

The Wrong Kind of Paradise V 
by Martha
marthalgm@yahoo.com

========================================
For the cold hard truth revealed 
What it had known
========================================

Carpenter, NC
Saturday
7:03pm

"Where is Gibson now?"

Skinner had not heard her approach the screen door, absorbed 
as he was with listening to the early evening song of the 
locusts.  The door creaked open, and he watched as she 
walked barefoot across the floorboards to the screen framing 
of the porch before turning to face him.  He noticed that 
she was again wearing the familiar cross necklace.  

Scully spoke again.  "I need to speak with him."

"I don't think that's wise at this time."

She seemed puzzled at his response.  "How do we know that he 
is really safe?  If you were able to find him, how much 
longer do you think it will be before others find out, the 
kind of people who would hurt him again?"

Skinner had to admit that sending someone out there to watch 
over him was not an option that he had considered, 
especially since it meant explaining *why* someone had to 
watch him.  "It was a fluke that I even found him in the 
first place."

"If he knows where Mulder is, that he might be back soon, I 
need to talk with him.  We have to find out what he knows."

"But that's just it, Scully.  He doesn't *know*.  He may not 
know anything for sure until it happens."

"All the more reason for me to be with him."  Her voice had 
started out as a whisper but then grew more forceful with 
her increasing frustration.  "I can't just sit here until 
the phone rings.  I need to be there.  I *have* to be there 
when it happens.  I don't understand how you could have left 
him alone.  Unprotected."

"Putting the two of you in the same place may not be the 
prudent thing to do.  If someone does locate either of you . 
. ."  Skinner quickly changed the subject.  "He has 
apparently been very selective about who he approaches, and 
it has kept him safe.  He's a very cautious little boy."

"Gibson should be fourteen or so by now.  He shouldn't be so 
little anymore."

"Honestly, it doesn't look like he's aged any since we first 
saw him."

"That's odd.  Puberty should be doing a number on him by 
now."  She walked back towards the door but paused beside 
his chair to issue her ultimatum.  "You'll contact the 
people with him.  Get me to where Gibson is, or I'll ask 
Frohike to come and get me and take me there personally."

As the door slammed behind her, Skinner knew that she would 
follow through on that threat and that Frohike would be only 
too glad to help her.  He followed her back inside the house 
to start making the phone calls.

~	~	~	~	~	~	~	~

Carpenter, NC
Saturday
9:16pm

Byers and Susanne were on the couch in the living room, 
listening to the local oldies station.  They were lounging 
in each other arms, as they had most of the afternoon, 
catching up on all the small talk that they had missed out 
on in the months since their `reunion' in Vegas.  They had 
talked of the things that they would do without regard to 
when they would be done - it was understood that these 
events would take place without question.  It hurt too much 
to focus on a timetable to their future, knowing that it 
could be interrupted in an instant. 

"Dana told me about the baby."  Susanne shifted to catch his 
reaction.  "You couldn't say anything?"

"It wasn't my place to tell.  If she was going to be here 
for any length of time, I know that she would have said 
something to you."

She smiled, wondering if that was the real reason he had 
never brought the subject up.  "Why do I get the feeling 
that this wasn't something that you were expecting, so to 
speak?"

"We didn't know that Mulder and Scully . . . well, they'd 
never said anything to the three of us."  He had been told 
that he had a tendency to blush easily; he could feel his 
ears reddening as he stammered out his answer.

"But you've been friends for a long time."

"I sense that this part of their relationship is still 
somewhat new to the both of them.  I doubt even Skinner 
knew."

Susanne paused and wondered if she wanted to take this 
conversation in another direction.  She decided to take that 
chance.  "John, why did you come here today with Skinner?"

His embarrassment was now complete.  "I wanted to see you."

"You've known where I've been since Vegas.  You could have 
visited any time you'd like."

"I couldn't take the chance of compromising your location - 
no matter how many precautions I took, I'd always be worried 
about those people finding you."

"And now?  Do you think I'm in any less danger now?"

His guilty conscience swerved into the fast lane - Just 
admit it, Byers; you've been too much of a chicken to 
approach her before now.  You've been wanting to take her up 
on that `someday' offer for months but you always stopped in 
your tracks because you couldn't take the chance that she 
might reject you.  Here's the perfect opportunity to tell 
her the damn truth.  "It's this thing with Mulder being 
missing.  He and Scully - they've known each other for 
years, and we could sometimes see that there was more than 
just a partnership at times.  I didn't want another day to 
go by without being able to talk to you, actually seeing 
you."

The spark of sadness in his eyes caught her offguard.  "What 
if something like this happens to us?  What if . . ."

He cut off her morbid speculation with a kiss.  They parted 
a moment later, and Byers shifted to allow her to rest her 
head on his shoulder.  "We've already lived it.  Or at 
least, I have.  I'd lost you for almost ten years.  I didn't 
even know if you were alive.  And then after Vegas, I was 
always afraid to contact you in case someone was tracing the 
lines."

"Langly would never hear of that.  Most likely, no one's 
even been trying to find Susanne Modeski.  Poor Dana," she 
sighed.  "Mulder goes missing, and then she finds out that 
she's pregnant."

"Sounds like a soap opera."

"I don't want a soap opera, John.  I just want `us'.  Can we 
at least have that?" 

They continued to make plans for their future - on that 
couch and in her bedroom - into the early morning hours.

~	~	~	~	~	~	~	~

Rutland, VT
Tuesday
9:22am

Marita had electronically combed the records of the state 
nursing agencies for Virginia and Maryland.  If Greta *had* 
applied for a new position, she had done it with a facility 
that did not bother to check her accreditations with the 
state boards.  

It may have been possible that Greta was being taken care of 
by friends of the old man so that she would not have to 
work.  Alex was looking into that scenario and had visited 
several locations in New York and western Virginia that had 
served as safehouses in the past but had had no luck so far.

There was another possibility that lingered in the recesses 
of her mind - that the old man was not dead and that Greta 
was still taking care of him.  That would explain why her 
recommendations files remained undisturbed but opened up the 
larger questions as to where they were now located and their 
current capability to interfere with her plans.  

And if she was able to find them both, she would need a 
secure place to house them. 

Or dispose of them after she had gotten the information that 
she needed.  She had not yet decided on their fate.

~	~	~	~	~	~	~	~	

Indianapolis, IN
Wednesday
4:42pm

The cab had made two wrong turns off of the interstate.  
Scully carried the small piece of paper where Skinner had 
scribbled down the address and had repeated the street name 
several times.  She was on the verge of making the driver 
pull over to ask for directions but was equally concerned 
about not making a scene - she did not want this driver 
remembering that she was in his cab. 

The wig of light brown curls should have been enough 
camouflage to disguise her identity in case her photo was on 
the circulating missing persons' bulletins.  Hiding her red 
hair was the main objective but, looking in the harsh 
lighting of the women's room in the airport, she thought she 
looked more like a recovering chemo patient rather than 
someone trying to mask her looks.

The driver finally found the house.  She quickly handed him 
a twenty and a five for the $22.45 meter and got out of the 
cab, toting the small carry-on bag that Susanne had given 
her.  Scully had not bought that many new clothes, waiting 
instead to expand her wardrobe in step with her waistline.        

She was greeted by several household members, including 
Sharon Graffia, who had shown her to the converted study 
that would be her room for the next few weeks.  Scully 
quickly sought out the bathroom to wash her face and shed 
the wig.  As she returned to the living room, she found 
Gibson Praise waiting for her.     

That he appeared exactly as when they first met, with the 
exception of his hair color, shocked her a bit.  She rushed 
over and knelt in front of him, taking his two hands in 
hers.  "Gibson?  Are you all right?  How . . ."

"You ask too many questions."

No, nothing about him had changed, she thought.  She *had* 
asked all of her questions in the space of the seconds it 
took to reach him.  But would he answer them?

Gibson settled her fears.  "He is alive.  And we will find 
him.  It's not much longer now."

"But Gibson . . ."

"He's thinking of you, too.  It will be OK, Scully."

She got back up on her feet and guided him towards the couch 
to sit down.  "Gibson, I want to know.  I need to know 
everything.  How did you get out of that reactor?  What 
happened to that creature?  Who took care of you?"

"I know that I was in there for a long time.  I was really 
tired a lot.  I fell asleep."  He inched himself backwards 
to rest against the pillows.  "One time, I woke up and I was 
outside, in the desert.  I could hear people talking the 
regular way, and I knew that these people just wanted to 
help me get better.  So I stayed with them for a while.  But 
I was scared that those men would come back and find me so I 
left."

"How did you survive?"

Gibson sunk deeper into the pillows.  "I did some bad 
things."

"What kind of bad things?"

Gibson hesitated and then lowered his voice, as if he did 
not want the others in the house to hear him.  "I took food 
from a couple of stores.  I stole some money once."

"You should have tried to find me."  She put an arm around 
his shoulder.  "I would have helped you."

"You would have only put me in another hospital."

"Honey, you were hurt and needed help back then."  Scully 
remembered his accusations of being her lab rat shortly 
before he disappeared the last time.  "I should have never 
let you out of my sight."

"I did dream of Mulder once; he was in a hospital too.  I 
tried to talk to him, but I don't think he heard me then."

"Can he hear you now, Gibson?"  Scully was still curious as 
to how his powers may have expanded per Skinner's previous 
remarks.

Gibson replied by shrugging his shoulders.  "Only sometimes.  
I don't think that he wants to hear me.  I think that he'd 
rather hear from you."

"I can't do what you do."

"Yes, you can."

She stared back at him and relaxed her hold of his shoulder. 
The boy stared back at her, not believing that she did not 
know how simple it could have been.  Gibson pointed to her 
necklace, and Scully picked up the cross with two fingers.  
She decided to give it a try - she'd done her fair share of 
odd things.  

`Mulder, when are you coming home?'

The air around her changed, like she was in a plane that had 
lost cabin pressure in mid-flight.  Nothing moved - no 
shadows, nothing in the background shifted and all the noise 
from the other rooms faded with the exception of a buzzing 
in her ears.  Scully watched as Gibson looked back at her 
with knowing eyes and nodded.  In that moment, she received 
her answer in a voice that she had not heard in several 
weeks.

`Soon, Scully.  Soon.' 

~	~	~	~	~	~	~	~

Skinner's apartment
Crystal City, VA
Saturday
7:31am

The telephone call had caught him in the middle of getting 
dressed.  "Where?" Skinner asked again.

"Paragould, Arkansas," Frohike repeated.  "In the northeast 
section of the state."
  
Byers' voice came over the line.  "Little time to explain.  
Scully is with Gibson and the group.  They're driving."

The Gunmen were working in tandem, and Frohike took over 
again.  "They were already on the road when we got the call.  
Gibson says they'll make it there in time, but they've got a 
few hours on us."

Skinner was trying to figure out the fastest way there.  
"Where's the nearest airport?"

"Memphis.  You're already booked.  Northwest 857 leaving at 
9:20.  You'll need to make your own arrangements for a 
vehicle, though."  

"And the three of you?"

"We're on US Airways 896 right behind you.  If we time this 
right, we'll be coming in from the south as they head in 
from the north."

Skinner jotted down the information on a small notepad next 
to the phone.  "And Gibson is sure about this?  Mulder's 
coming home?"

"Scully believes him.  That's all I need to know."

Byers again interrupted.  "Hang up, Skinner.  We can contact 
them once we start getting close."

~	~	~	~	~	~	~	~

Somewhere in Missouri
Interstate 55
12:48pm

Scully turned around to find Gibson huddled in the back seat 
of the van.  "Gibson, is something wrong?"

He kept staring out of the window and croaked out an answer. 
"No."

She got up from her seat and sat down next to him.  "Gibson?  
Something *is* wrong.  Tell me."

He first looked at the other people in the van and then 
turned towards Scully.  He continued to speak in a whisper.  
"I know you're gonna have a baby.  And I know that there are 
people out there who want to take your baby.  Cause they 
think it will be like me.  After we find Agent Mulder, 
you'll still have to hide from them and take Mulder with 
you.  Cause they want him, too."

This alarmed Scully.  He did not seem to be scared, but he 
shivered like someone with the knowledge that they were 
facing a non-too-pleasant future.  "Who, Gibson?  Who are 
these people?"

"The same ones who took me before.  That man who's always 
smoking.  He's still trying to find me."

She put her arm around his shoulders to comfort him.  "When 
we get there, you stay with me.  Nothing is going to happen 
to us, understand?"

~	~	~	~	~	~	~	~

Paragould, Arkansas
Route 135
8:16pm

After pulling over to the side of the road and parking among 
the other vehicles, the Gunmen spotted Skinner and Scully 
walking along the perimeter of what appeared to be an 
abandoned construction site.  They exchanged details of 
their decidedly uneventful flights before asking about the 
evening's agenda.

"We're waiting for sundown," Skinner explained.  "Should be 
anytime now."

Langly, ever curious, checked out the membership of the 
other groups gathered nearby.  "Where's the Wonder Kid?"

"Gibson?"  Scully looked around the immediate area.  
"Gibson?" she called out again with no response.  She walked 
over to Sharon and Jim McCaskill, thinking that they might 
have been talking with him.  "Has anyone seen Gibson?  He 
was right beside me.  I don't know where he went."

"He was just there, over by that rock, a few minutes ago."

Scully walked over to the spot that Jim had pointed out and 
circled around the small boulder, thinking that perhaps 
Gibson was hiding on the other side.  Finding no sign of 
him, she turned around and looked across the terrain, paying 
particular attention to the growing shadows and potential 
hiding places for young boys.  Before she could take a step 
away from the rock, Scully began to feel the change in air 
pressure around her, much like she had experienced before, 
and instinctively froze.  

The wind picked up, and she noticed some of the other group 
members starting to move within her range of sight in the 
growing darkness.  A light, she thought; there should be a 
light from the sky, they had said before.  Several moments 
then passed, and there was no change in her view.  She 
called out for Gibson again but only heard the movement of 
the others behind her and a faint echo in the distance.

Scully began to panic - she had lost sight of Gibson who was 
her only established link to Mulder these last couple of 
days.  She reached for the cross on her necklace, the one 
object that comforted her, the one object that had been 
given back to her from someplace beyond.  And she thought of 
them both - Gibson, whom she hoped was still somewhere near 
her and Mulder, whom she was promised would be coming back 
to her that night.

A small group that included Frohike and Skinner headed in 
her direction with flashlights.  One of them handed her a 
spare, and they began to spread out forward in their silent 
search.  Scully continued with the hunt, her hand at her 
throat, fingering the cross.  Concentrating and hoping that 
both Mulder and Gibson could hear her pleas.  

Another few moments passed.  Scully had to stop her forward 
motion when the pressure began to feel like her head was in 
a vise.  Her eyes began watering from the pain, and she let 
go of her necklace to wipe away the stray tears.  The 
pounding in her head seemed to subside, and she shone the 
flashlight ahead of her to maneuver the descending slope.  

A movement caught her attention, but she thought that it was 
another searcher who had passed her when she had stopped.  
It then dawned on her that the figure was moving towards 
her, and at first she thought that it was Gibson coming back 
from his hiding place, to come back to her side as she had 
made him promise.  But the figure was growing larger, larger 
than the small boy should be, as it approached.

Scully's single scream echoed across the terrain and brought 
the other members of the search party to her location.  They 
found her on the ground, silently weeping and cradling an 
unconscious Fox Mulder.          
        
~	~	~	~	~	~	~	~

western Tennessee
Tuesday
2:13am

Mulder was waking up again.  The Gunmen and Scully had 
gathered around the bed, waiting to see if he would be able 
to push through the barrier of consciousness this time and 
become alert enough to carry on a sustained conversation.  
Earlier attempts had Mulder falling back asleep in mid-
sentence, when he spoke at all.

"What happened?"  Mulder made an attempt to sit up but was 
only able to shift his shoulders.  "Where are the others?"

Byers spoke up first.  "What others?"

"Theresa.  Billy Miles."

"There was no one else, Mulder.  Only you."

"But they were right there with me."

Scully had been so relieved at hearing him speak that she 
had not wanted to interrupt but now found her voice.  "You 
were the only one there."

"We have to go back."  Mulder made another attempt at trying 
to get out of the bed.  "Where am I?"

Scully put a hand on his shoulder to get him to stop 
squirming and to listen to what she had to say.  "Too much 
time has passed, and we've been traveling for a couple of 
days."  

Frohike looked at the puzzled expression on Mulder's face 
and stepped in.  "You don't remember what's happened, do 
you?"

The Gunmen and Scully exchanged several stares and mouthed 
phrases before Scully proceeded with the explanation.  
"Marita Covarrubias had warned me - right after you 
disappeared - that someone may be after me.  Gibson Praise 
told me the same thing just before you reappeared.  I'm 
taking them seriously."

Langly finally got his chance to contribute to the 
situation.  "You're in a safe house in Humboldt, Tennessee.  
You both should be able to stay for a bit longer, hopefully 
until you're able to get some rest.  But after that . . ."

"We got Scully underground," Frohike added.  "We can do the 
same for Mulder."

"Together."  Scully placed her hand on top of Mulder's.  "We 
stay together."

Frohike reached out to put a hand on Scully's shoulder.  
"Under the circumstances, we wouldn't consider any other 
option."

"Where's Gibson now?"  Mulder was now more aware than he had 
been and was able to push himself up against the headboard 
while Scully rearranged the pillows.  "I thought that I saw 
him . . . I don't remember where.  I could have sworn that 
he was the one leading us out."

"We lost track of him in all the excitement," Langly 
explained, "and no one's seen him since."

Byers helped out with straightening the blankets.  "We have 
come to one conclusion - that he might have been taken in 
exchange for you."

"In fact, since he's the one that guided us to that spot, it 
could very well be that he orchestrated the entire event."

Scully met the confusion on Mulder's face with an 
explanation.  "He may really be more like they are instead 
of like us."

Mulder, probably still not convinced that he understood 
everything that had been said so far, moved on to more 
pressing matters.  "So what happens now?"

"Skinner went back to DC a couple of days ago, to file the 
reports that nothing happened out there, that there were no 
further developments in your missing person's case.  No one 
knows you're back, Mulder - only those of us in this room 
along with Skinner and the people in Sharon's group, and 
we're going to keep it that way.  CGB Spender or someone 
working for him may still be interested in finding me."

"What now?  You have something that they want?"

Another round of tense stares passed between Scully and the 
Gunmen.  Without further hesitations, the three made their 
excuses and turned to exit the room, leaving the FBI agents 
to their privacy.

~	~	~	~	~	~	~	~	~

Rutland, VT
Tuesday
9:03am

He was barely awake, and it hurt to walk.  He was dizzy and 
wanted to throw up.  There was a sharp pain in his arm where 
the other person had grabbed him and was now dragging him 
down a hallway.  Gibson guessed by the harsh fluorescent 
lighting streaming down from above and the passing doors 
with small windows and deadbolts that he was in a dormitory 
or a clinic of some kind.  He had a working history with 
such places.

He could barely lift his head to see who it was that was 
forcing him to make this long walk.  He tried to listen for 
that person's thoughts, but the drugs that he had been given 
earlier were making a maze out of his own thought processes.

They rounded a corner and came to a door at the dead end.  
Gibson could hear that another person was now with them, the 
two of them whispering, and then a rattling of keys.  He 
still could not see the two of them clearly, but their 
talking helped him to focus.  The dark-haired man he had met 
before - he was one of those who had driven him to that 
place where they had operated on him.  The blonde-haired 
woman was someone new but - somehow - she seemed familiar.  

The door opened and Gibson was pushed inside.  It had been a 
while since he had stood on his own.  He was still weak and 
sank to the floor.  He did not have the strength to twist 
himself around to face them as the man told him that this 
was his new home, and the woman told him to get some rest 
before the door behind him was slammed shut and bolted.

Gibson tried to focus on his immediate surroundings - there 
was a table with a few chairs next to him and a sink and a 
toilet in the corner.  He forced his head to turn, and he 
spotted a bed a few feet away.  He did not have the strength 
to drag himself to the comfort of a mattress and blankets 
and, instead, stretched out on the cold linoleum floor. As 
he surrendered to the drugs and the exhaustion, he thought 
of another dark-haired man and a red-headed woman and hoped 
that he had given them enough of a headstart to find some 
happiness in the present.

Because their time in paradise would not last.           

==================================

All sections written & posted May - August 2000.

I have written what I would have liked to have seen as the 
opening episode for Season Eight - I just like the idea of 
the secondary characters being more involved with the action 
than we have seen in past years.    

The title and quoted lyrics are taken from `Walkaway Joe', 
recorded by Trisha Yearwood and written by Vince Melamed and 
Greg Barnhill, and are used without permission.

I would like to thank the members of the Lone Gunmen Mailing 
List for their support and encouragement, especially when I 
was posting sections that had little Gunmen content.

Comments and questions are always welcome.  

end


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