====o=====================================================o===== "Passages in Memory" (revised) by Mary Ruth Keller E-mail: mrkeller@eclipse.net =====o=====================================================o===== Part IV - Recovery (Disclaimed in Prologue) -----o---------------------------------------------o----- For me that am a maid, though most ungentle fortune Have placed me in this sty, where, since I came, Diseases have been sold dearer than physic, O, that the gods Would set me free from this unhallow'd place, Though they did change me to the meanest bird That flies i' the purer air! Pericles, Prince of Tyre -----o---------------------------------------------o----- Woods, outside Bluefield, West Virginia Friday, February 7, 1997 10:37 am Ed Hawkins lowered the two-way radio from his lips, knowing the five other Rangers and Customs Agents at his command would reach him in a few minutes. He had been called down from his usual post in the Monongahela Forest to head up the raid, replacing Tim Parker, whose truck had thrown a camshaft, and now it looked to have been a success. Parting the branches of the Scotch pine with his rifle, he was startled by the two government issue handguns that hovered inches from the end of the barrel. Finding himself utterly at the mercy of whoever was behind the SIGs, Hawkins could only stammer. "Um, you..." When the partners saw the buffalo and mountain logo on the man's green, wide-brimmed hat, they shouted their affiliations, lowered their weapons, and flashed their FBI identifications. Scully crawled out of the damp space first. "We were following a lead on the kidnappings of a group of women over the past few decades." Mulder nodded as he stood through the greenery, appreciating her clear-headedness. "We had found evidence that some of the women were kept in that old RF&P warehouse below, and had been checking it out when I was attacked." He shrugged. "Naturally, I assumed..." The lanky, freckled Ranger frowned. "Hunh. Sounds like someone has their wires crossed somewhere. We were phoned an anonymous tip about stolen electronics stashed in it." He jerked his head in the downslope direction. "The ringleaders were to be here for a shipment out this morning. Since they were identified as mid- thirties Caucasians, one male and one female, driving an expensive import, when we saw the BMW,..." The three exchanged smiles, ruefully shaking their heads at their respective predicaments. Mulder waved his hand in a 'forget it' gesture, focusing down on his partner's face after she touched his elbow. Scully's eyes flicked down the slope of the mountain. "Obviously, someone wants us not to see what's in that warehouse." They walked out to the nearest clearing, where Hawkins pointed at his dark green four-wheel drive. As the rain suddenly intensified, the FBI agents pulled their damp jackets up around their necks. A small stream ran off the Ranger's hat as if it were channeling down a drainspout. "Let's hustle you two out of this miserable weather and go foil their plans, shall we?" Quickly climbing behind the high wheel, Hawkins waited while Mulder pulled the passenger side open and guided his partner into the cab. Noticing that they were both soaked to the skin, Hawkins set the heat on full blast in the truck before he radioed an all-clear to the rest of his team. On the long trip down the mountain, the Ranger observed the bright red scars, but said nothing, and, except for one quick exchange, neither had they. He had been partnered for most of his career with Lou Richards, dead of a heart attack in his own home. Hawkins knew the distance he himself would have gone to help the older man who had been his mentor and friend, so he could respect whatever mission these two had set for themselves. The only conversation came when Scully had shivered, her partner had reached in front of her to redirect the vent pointed at him to warm her, and shifted slightly closer to her. He had asked her then if there was anything else she needed, but she had replied, "I'm fine, Mulder." The worried look the dark-haired agent had focused on her auburn crown told Hawkins that she was far from all right. The Ranger wondered if the tiny woman beside him, radiating reliability and strength in an almost visible aura, had been one of those victims. Had it been himself and Richards, they would have pursued a case of personal significance even if they had been 'officially removed'. Hawkins suspected this pair was much similar. But, he also knew there were arguments about cases one conducted in public, and matters of a more personal nature that were discussed in private. This, he suspected, fell in the latter category. --o-0-o-- RF&P Warehouse Friday, 12:14 pm The Rangers and the Agents entered the building cautiously. The interior was one immense, unbroken space, where two rows of thick, rectangularly cross-sectioned concrete columns rose to the roof beams. The square windows that ran along both long walls just under the ceiling were blackened, by both deliberate painting, and through years of accumulated dust. But, the long skylights between the ribs provided sufficient illumination for the officials to scan the interior of the space. Mulder stepped forward, seeking any clue to the building's previous functions, before turning to speak to Scully. "Do you have the universal counter handy?" The frozen expression of fear brought him back to bend over her immediately. "What? Were you here, Scully?" Nodding slowly, she sank to her knees, and, as the others watched, began crawling around on the dark red concrete floor, lost in a sudden flood of painful remembrances. "I stared at these drains. There was one by every gurney, and I spent several hours each day on my side, gazing at the floor. I couldn't move, but I don't know why, I just lay there, focusing on the star-shaped pattern of holes." Dropping to his knees beside his partner, Mulder began whispering to Scully, his hand on her back. Hawkins quickly deployed the rest to examine the exterior of the building, trying to give the Agents some privacy. The Ranger found himself wondering for the second time what the personal connections the pair seemed to have to this investigation were. Concentrating on scanning the putative crime scene by walking along a row of silver covers over the little depressions in the floor, he sensed the formation of an idea. He faced the pair on the floor. "Agents, this reminds me more of a slaughter-house than an assembly line for locomotive engines. Drilling this many narrow holes through two-foot thick concrete takes days of effort." The Ranger noticed that Mulder had shuddered visibly at his choice of words, while Scully had shown no response at all, so he stopped. Hawkins found himself wondering if Parker had deliberately dodged this assignment, given his contacts in Washington. The Ranger used his hand radio to call the others in. "Boys, what we have here is obviously a false alarm; there haven't been any electronics stored here since RCA stopped making vacuum tubes. I think we can leave the FBI to its work." While Hawkins shepherded the rest out the door, Mulder nodded his thanks to him as he shifted to shield the silent woman next to him from the outside. The dark-haired agent rubbed her spine, hoping the contact would bring her focus from deep within her. "Scully?" She blinked. "Mulder?" She was back from wherever she had been and had her hand out to him. "Pass me your pocketknife." "Sure." He pulled his body up straight to fish for it in his jeans pocket. "Here." As she took it from him, she removed an evidence bag from her jacket and began prying up one cover with the can opener by wedging the hook under it. Mulder noticed her hands were shaking as she lifted the counter from her jacket to pass it over the hole. He was further alarmed when she needed several attempts before she could scoop the brown gunk out of the drain and into the pouch. "Are you feeling okay, Scully?" "Of course, Mulder." Her lips firmly pressed together, she continued to transfer the noxious residue to the plastic sack, until it was on the verge of overflowing. Her compulsion worried Mulder deeply, so he reached for her elbow, but she jumped backwards and to her feet when he touched her. The bag fell to the concrete, the impact debouching the contents to cover the red handle of his fallen knife. "Scully?" He stood and approached her, but pulled his hands away at her glare. "Mulder, I'm fine!" Her partner recognized that she was clinging to the professional facade of Agent Scully, the routine and the ordered analysis, to keep her demons at bay. "Scully?" "If there were operations performed here on humans, then there should be tissues, hair, and possible drug signatures in the drains. It wasn't radioactive." He nodded, holding out one hand. "Okay, Scully, okay. Pass me the counter, and I'll try sweeping the rest of the area." As she handed the unit over, her shoulders drooped, so he knew she was functioning at her limits of control. Once he had established a respectable distance between them, he glanced over his shoulder to see she was working on the next drain, forcing herself into total concentration. He had seen it last in Minneapolis, while she marched into a morgue to perform an autopsy that has shaken her to her core, before he lost her to Donnie Phaster. It hurt him as much to see this particular mask now as it had then. When he reached the far corner of the vast space, the meter needle swung all the way to the right. "Scully! Come here!" --o-0-o-- Georgetown Hospital Washington, DC Friday, 12:18 pm At the resident's call, Lindhauer trotted down the crowded corridor. "She's in here, Mr. Lindhauer." He had been fearful for his colleague when he had found her intensive care bed empty. 'Ace' waved him over to her side in her new private room, pointing to a line on the screen of her laptop when he reached her. "I think I've fixed my problem, come see." He listened to her explanation for several minutes, but finally, he had to interrupt the stream of C++ that issued ceaselessly from her. "'Ace', stop, please, we have to talk." She froze. "Is it about 'Charlie'?" At his nod, she closed the application and powered down the unit. "He's in love with you, isn't he?" He watched her head bob. "'Andrew' and I were afraid of that. How do you feel about him?" She clasped her hands in her lap. "I don't know." The admission was genuine, offered without rancor or artifice, just like the woman he knew and respected, so Lindhauer waited while she stared out at the warehouse. "I'm flattered, really." He sensed her hesitation. "But?" She focused on him. "No buts. 'Charlie' is the first guy to admit to an attraction to me, and while it may sound trite to an old heart-breaker like you," she offered as she tossed her hair, "it feels strange and wonderful all at once." 'Ace' smiled, allowing Lindhauer to read the joy in her eyes. "The years I was in college and graduate school, guys were only interested in talking to me long enough to use my suggestions for their projects, then they were gone, chasing some empty-headed blonde. You three had sought me out, and over the past year, I was hoping you were becoming my friends, but I never expected anything like this." She beamed, sobering as she glimpsed his darkening face. "You think I should discourage him, don't you?" Lindhauer patted her shoulder. "I don't know what to think or say, frankly. He's ecstatic he's finally told you, and you seem thrilled. But we have so much we need to recover, we must focus all our energies on the Organization, not each other." She nodded. "I understand, believe me, I do. 'Charlie' is so sweet, I can't fathom how he earned Black Lung's backing." Lindhauer shrugged. "A surrogate son thing? He reminded him of someone? Beats me." She tried to rub under her cast. "As long as it doesn't interfere with the Project, I suppose we could see where he wants to go with this." 'Ace' smiled again, but it was a wistful, almost mournful, expression. "Knowing my luck, it's probably a passing fancy that will fade when acted upon, which is better than it festering for years and years, dividing us further." She shook her head. "That sounds so cold and calculating." Confused, she looked to her colleague. "I think too much like one of my machines sometimes, don't I?" Sighing, he patted her arm before he began seeking her inputs on the rest of the Group's decisions. --o-0-o-- RF&P Warehouse Friday, 12:26 pm As Scully pulled his hand down so she could read the meter, she dropped his pocketknife in his jacket pocket. "I set it to the most sensitive level for the drains, Mulder. Here." Relieved he had provided her something to focus on besides her past suffering, he surrendered the unit to her. When she repeatedly punched a red button on the side, Mulder, afraid she was withdrawing again, reached for her shoulder, but she was only changing the detection range. Finished, Scully pointed the counter directly at the floor while he transferred the knife back to his jeans. "This is the highest setting, and it seems it was right here. Look." When she stepped to her right, the needle flipped to the left side of the meter. Mulder shifted to face her from the other side of the hot spot. "Let me have the unit back, Scully." After she passed the sensor to him, he checked the needle, but even while the rads there were elevated, they were far lower than in the center location. "You're right, the implants must have been stored in a cabinet, but I don't see marks on the floor." He looked up. Her eyes were unfocused again. "It is in a tall cart with wheels, all metal tubes, with glass shelves and sides." She held her arm out at waist level. "About this high. Everything here is on wheels. I wish I could move so I could leave." She jumped as someone rapped on the open door frame. It was Hawkins again, making Mulder wonder how much he had overheard. The Ranger lifted off his green hat to scratch his heightening forehead before he commented, "I wouldn't hang around here too long, folks. We've had reports of bears and coyotes in this area." Mulder glanced down at her, but Scully barely sensed the Ranger's presence, so he replied with a tight smile. "Thanks." He held up one marked hand. "We've had our own adventures with coyotes we'd not like to repeat any time soon. We'll stay a little longer though; there might still be something here we should check out." The Agent saluted him. Hawkins sent Scully one last concerned look before he turned. "As long as you folks are certain," he called over his shoulder before he left. Mulder watched through the entrance as he heard a car door bang and the last vehicle outside pull away. When he turned back to his partner, he gasped and crossed over to kneel in front of her. Scully was crouching, rocking on her toes and hugging herself. He grasped both her shoulders, calling her name, but this time she did not flinch or fight. He knew she was wandering deep in her own past again, that this time, it would be a struggle to pull her back. "Talk to me." Her eyes were dilated, but she obeyed his desperate plea as quickly as if she were a new recruit in basic training. "It was right here." She was whispering, forcing him to lean close to hear her, even in this silence. "Every one of us is wheeled over here and - Oh!" She jerked and grimaced as she rubbed the back of her neck. "It didn't hurt as much as the other tests. I wonder what it is?" Tipping her head back, she pointed up at the sun's disk that had moved into view through the skylight overhead. "Look, the moon is out and it's full. I must have been here another month, then." She chewed her lip. "It must be October for it to be this bright." Mulder blocked the sun from her eyes with one hand, reaching with the other to tip her head upright. Before he could touch her, she doubled over, arms wrapped around her stomach. "They said there wouldn't be any pain, but there is!" A tear dropped to the floor. "Everything hurts here. But they're finished." She began crawling, moving purposefully across the space until she reached a spot that had meaning for her. "I'm back at my station. I hate my station, I have no skylight to see out of." Since she had huddled there, he stood and approached her, listening silently as she recounted her horrors. "If only I could move! I've counted the ceiling tiles and columns to the door so many times, I could escape at night when they leave us alone, if I could just walk away!" He settled down, his legs out straight. Grasping her shoulders, he guided her onto her side, resting her head on his knees where he could watch her face. "I'm here with you. Go on." Struggling with his own remembered suffering, he placed a pocket recorder on the concrete by his hip to save the memories for them to analyze later. "They are waiting for mature ova. They need three, but they don't want to use fertility drugs because the chemicals may cause unhealthy mutations, so here I stay. They've promised to send me on after they have three good samples." Mulder crouched over her, wrapping the other hand around the crown of her head. "Why do they want your eggs?" She frowned. "It's part of one of my chromosomes they want, not the eggs. One ovum for reference, one in case of a problem, one for testing and for development, they said. They keep talking about the Luck of the Irish, and all I want to do is scream and hit them, but I *can't* *move*!" He straightened, stroking her hair as he thought. Her stomach rumbled, and Mulder smiled, thinking that they would have to find a decent diner after this was over. "Wake up and we'll have some lunch, okay?" When she curled into a tight little ball, he gasped at the suffering his attempt at kindness had caused his partner. "I can't eat. Any meats have too many hormones; they'll disturb my cycles. Grains are out, too, they said. Too many drugs. I only have vegetables grown in chemical-free soil, with triply filtered air and water, and none for the next three days. Only purified water until I ovulate." Mulder moved the hair off her face. He licked his lips, almost afraid to speak to her again. "What else, Scully, can you tell me?" She jerked when he whispered her name. "I don't have a name here. No one knows or cares that I'm Dana Katherine Scully, that I have a medical degree or am an FBI agent." She shuddered. "Here I'm only a number, number 25101415. I see it on the back of the folder at the foot of my bed. I would love to hear my Mom call me Dana or Honey. Even Scully would be good." She smiled. "I'll never be angry with my partner for calling me that again. He only uses Scully." She mimicked him. "Sculleeee!" She sighed. "Then he would spout some absolutely insane idea. I wish he were here to say anything now. I would tell him it's all true, just to hear him stammer in surprise." More tears, one rolling over the bridge of her nose, the other down across her temple and into his jeans. "Oh, Mulder, where are you? I need you." Mulder bent over until his mouth was on her ear. "I *am* here, you're safe, you can come back now." But she was still stranded in her past, and she responded as from that dark time. "No! Don't say that! Don't lie to me again! I'm not all right! You strapped me down, poked me with needles, prodded my nerves with electricity until I'm so sore I feel like I'm on fire! What do you want from me? My ova?" A gurgling snort escaped her. "Take them, take them all and be done with it! I want to leave, can't you see? I want out!" She struck him in the chest. He grunted at her strength. He tried to contain her swatting hands, but they dropped to the floor. She began keening. "More tests, more injections? Why? You said I could leave now. Why more tests?" Mulder held her up by her shoulders. "Scully, come back now. This is enough. Come back to me, please." He shook her once. But she was still lost. "Do you want me to stop working with Mulder, is that why I'm here? I won't! I can't! There is so much hidden that needs to be exposed. So many questions to be answered. You can't hide it all forever!" Mulder was desperate, terrified he would lose her for good in her past, so he shouted in his fear and frustration, "Scully! You're safe! It's not real!" She jerked and gasped, finally returning to the present, and shifting until she was supporting her own weight. As Mulder kept one hand on her shoulder, Scully wrapped her arms around her knees, focusing on her partner again. "What did I say, Mulder?" Her eyes fell on the tape recorder, the white gears still revolving. "I need to know." His voice was gentle and hushed. "If it starts to bother you too much, I'll stop it, okay?" At her nod, he rewound the tape and pressed the play button. She listened carefully, but her face remained clear throughout. "I was an experimental subject with all those MUFON women, Mulder." Grasping her hand, he nodded. "And Sam. I'm convinced Sam must have been tested too, or else they couldn't have generated all those clones." He thought back to Phoenix, to their poolside conversation. "But why your genes, Scully? There must be millions of women of Irish descent in America, After all, the Scotch-Irish are one of the largest ethnic groups we have, so any one of them ought to do." As he tucked the black recorder away, she shrugged. "A unique mutation I'm not aware of in my family? I couldn't say, Mulder." Rubbing her arms, she reacted to feeling the cold in the vast building through her wet clothes. "We should leave." Mulder helped his partner to her feet, supporting her with one arm around her shoulders. "Whenever you need." She frowned at the deep concern in his eyes. "Oh. I don't mean because of me." She reached up to pat the hand curled around her upper arm. "I'm sorry I've frightened you so, Mulder." He shook his head. Her clear gaze fixed on his shifting hazel irises. "I don't mean that this isn't uncomfortable for me, it is; however, my memories and your tape recorder may be the only way we will ever know. But Hawkins was right when he said this building isn't safe from wild animals." He nodded. "Sure." "Let's check the electrical service to the building before we go. If they were running all the electronics and lighting you remember, then there should be as many breakers as in a stadium or two. You'll be all right?" Nodding, she walked on her own beside him while they headed to the back, where the Rangers had jumped Mulder earlier in the day. --o-0-o-- RF&P Warehouse Friday, 2:03 pm Scully frowned at the tall shiny grey box. "It looks new." After they both noted the absence of corrosion on the chrome handle, Mulder yanked the door open. "Yup, and mostly 440 Volt, 3 phase power at that." "Right. Just what you would expect for heavy machine tools and an assembly line, not the voltage most medical equipment runs off of. But, look, Mulder." She pointed out a dark, unweathered rectangle, centered on holes cut though the wall. "Hunh. That would have been for the extra circuits. They've been here, covering up their tracks, although it hasn't been that long ago." He ran his hand over the top of the breaker box and held it out. "Just a little dirt, see?" She nodded. "There's no reason to run a new service into a deserted building like this. I'm not surprised the Rangers thought it was still in use; that box must have been proof for them." He shook his head. "We're too late again, Scully. We've chased the route to here, but we still have no evidence ourselves. What?" She was biting her lip. "Yes, we do. I'd like to collect more samples from the drains. I've pulled out enough different-colored hairs that I think we were on the right track before I lost it." She winced. "I'm sorry, Mulder, I'll try to hold together better." Taking her by the elbow, he shook his head. "Don't be. This may be the only way we learn anything. That block of yours is still in place, I think, since you've only passed on personal observations, not clinical details. You're sure you want to go back in there?" Her head bobbed, so they reentered the warehouse. While they were scraping, filling and labelling, tremors ran through the building, then a train raced by on tracks less than fifty yards behind the structure. Mulder checked his partner and hurried to her side from the far end of the space. She was wide-eyed with fright again, so he tried rubbing her arms to reassure her where they knelt, but it was no use. He had lost her to her horrors another time. While he waited, she went rigid. "The tests are finished on me. They came back negative. I don't have it; I've failed; I'm unacceptable. They won't be sending me on with the others." She pulled away from him, staring out the back door at the empty tracks. "They've gone, but I'll never leave this place. I'm no good at all." Scully began shuddering with her remembered terror. "No, not the virus, please. I don't want to be changed. Just send me home. I won't tell anyone anything." Mulder thought of her branched DNA, how she had struggled back to life. "Changed? How?" Now her head began weaving back and forth, so he stopped. They had hit her block, and they would learn no more today. Instead, she was walking deliberately back to the spot she had called her station. "It's too late. They've started the procedure. I need to keep very still, so it won't hurt so much. This way the room doesn't spin, and my head won't pound." Mulder remembered the motionless, silent body in the hospital, nearly losing himself in the raw emotions that had possessed him at that time. He clenched his jaw, forcing them back down, until only a deep ache remained. But it was a new sorrow, stemming from the image of his vital, active partner, so fever-ridden from the retrovirus used on her she couldn't move her foot or shift her hand. "Oh." She jerked. "Something's wrong. It's not working the way they want. Oh!" She staggered. "It's not working at all. I've failed in this too. Now I'll be punished, like those other women were." She sank to her knees again. Mulder knelt to pull her head against his shoulder, rocking her in his arms. He dropped his face against her neck and inhaled deeply, fearing to ask what would have been considered a suitable chastisement for the cold, naked, half-starved woman she had been. "You were right, Scully, this *was* a continuation of the Nazi agenda, whatever the justification. This is torture for no reason at all. Come back. Knowing isn't worth this, not for you." The fear and sympathy in his muffled voice reached her. "Mul-der?" He lifted his head at her quiet call. "I'm here." Swallowing, she focused on his hooded eyes. "I'm sorry. I lost it again, didn't I?" He smiled a hopeless, forced grin. "Only a little. We should go; I think we have enough bags of goo for several hundred tests." She raised an eyebrow. "Right. If I need more, I can always check your bathroom out." As tremendous relief shone from his faces, he chuckled. "Anytime, Scully. After all, you clean for free." "Mulder!" She fired a weak version of the Look at his joke, so, believing she was finding her way out of the darkness, he released her, but as she inhaled, she shuddered. "That smell!" She pushed herself to her feet, reaching for her gun. "*He* was here then too!" She drew her weapon, pointing it at the door. Mulder rose and began to block her, afraid she might fire on the concerned Hawkins, returning to check on them, but then he smelled the Morley tobacco aroma. He responded as instinctively as she, whirling and leveling his SIG at the door. "You!" The man puffed once, then exhaled, firing a curling stream from his nostrils to intersect the plume rising from the end of the Morley he held at his chest. Her gun shaking in her hatred, Scully was shouting. "He watches, Mulder, he comes in and stands by my gurney, smoking and watching, just like he used to do when I had to report to Blevins." Mulder spared a glance of surprise at her admission, but his rage that his old enemy had escaped justice overwhelmed his other emotions. "What did your Fascist doctors do to Scully?" His tenor dropped to an angry growl, "Why are you still alive?" The old spy rolled his eyes. "Must we do this every time we meet, Mister Mulder? Agent Scully, in her present state, I understand, but you? Do you have any idea how much I have helped you?" He raised both arms, and a flurry of ashes cascaded from the end of the paper cylinder to the floor, leaving grey flecks on a brick red background. "As usual, you are the only ones with the weapons. Do you want my help, or should I leave, and allow the goons my young former associates have ordered here to work you two over?" Mulder blinked. "What are you talking about?" The old man sighed. "There is a squadron of rather well-muscled young men headed this way, with orders to make your sleep very uncomfortable for the next few weeks." He paused, letting his eyes trail slowly from one pair of scarred hands to the other. "Are either of you prepared for that?" But Mulder, still incensed, edged closer to his partner. "You're lying, you, you - " He cast around in his mind for the phrase his Mother had used. " - Ancient Chimney." The Man with the Morleys recognized the reference, and a look of surprise spread over his wrinkled features. "Fox, don't you remember?" His gaze turned inwards, back through time. "No, of course you wouldn't. You never woke up during any one of my visits, only when you thought I was that monster who was your Father." He steadied his nerves with a long drag on the cigarette. "Ask your Mother how she finally earned her citizenship." Lowering her handgun, Scully turned to her partner. "I think I know what he's talking about, Mulder. Your Mother and I..." She reached out to touch his side where she knew there was a scar from emergency surgery over two decades earlier. But the tall agent backed up, horrified, deep in paranoid denial. "No! I owe you nothing! Nothing at all! Tell me what you did to Scully, now!" As she heard their BMW moving away up the broken gravel road, she spun around to face the door. "Who is that? Where is he taking our car?" She lifted her weapon and assumed her shooting stance beside Mulder. The old man raised his hands higher. "Just my associate removing your vehicle to a safe location. If my former subordinates know what you drove up here, then they can follow you after you leave, can't they? Come with me, before the party starts, would you?" Mulder stalked forward, bringing the SIG a fraction of an inch from the old man's forehead. "No! We won't go with you. Then you'd have us in your power, and we would end up as two unidentifiable corpses found fifty years later at the bottom of one of those ravines out there!" The man stepped back. "Mister Mulder, use those extremely expensive brains of yours for a second. If I wanted you dead, how hard do you think that would have been? An assassin in the dark would have required only one bullet to finish you, either standing over your sofa, or while you were on one of those ridiculously foolish late-night runs you torture yourself with." Scully drew a deep, shuddering breath as she detected the faint sounds of other engines traveling down the only road out of their location. "He's right, we should go with him." Not believing his ears, the tall agent turned to face his partner. "Why? He's tried to kill us before. Why should we trust him now?" The old spy attempted to approach the younger man, but Mulder leveled the gun at his nose. "Stay back! I mean it!" The Smoking Man raised his hands again. "After last time, I have no doubt you do, Agent Mulder." As the SIG lowered, Mulder focused back on Scully and drew his eyebrows together. "Why?" The voice was level and the question earnest. She blinked twice, then answered succinctly. "Because of what he wanted to tell you on New Year's Eve. He knows what happened to Sam and where she is now." Mulder spun on his heel to stalk at the man, who shrank back before him. "Is what she says correct? Were you watching as they tested both Scully and Sam?" The old man shrugged. "What if I was, Fox? What if I was?" Mulder raised the gun again. "Tell me where she is now, or else!" Over his partner's protests, he cocked the trigger. The burning weed was dashed to the floor, where it rolled into one of the open drain holes. "There's no time for this, don't you understand?" But Mulder was lost in the chase. "Where is my sister? Where is Sam?" The man gave in to his rage. "*Safe*! That's all you need to know! It was good enough for Caroline and Bill, why isn't it good enough for you, Fox?" The agent's face softened. "You took her, wiped her memories of me and our time together, made clones of her body, why won't you tell me where she is?" The longing radiated from his eyes and suffused his voice. The auburn-haired woman was adamant. "*Mulder*! Someone's coming! We have to leave with him, *now*!" He faced the door, waving the gun at the empty air when he heard the squealing tires and roaring engines for the first time. "What are those?" Scully kept tugging on Mulder's arm, until the three raced out through the rear, just as the group of black vehicles stopped, and latches clicked free. The sedan that had struck Amanda waited. Scully spotted the hair and blood on the front right fender as she hustled Mulder past it towards the rear passenger side. She suppressed a sudden wave of nausea long enough to force them both within and slam the door. After a quick glance in the rear-view mirror to convince himself that both his passengers were secure, the old spy gunned the engine. He pressed the accelerator pedal, the black sedan swung around the warehouse, then shot off down the mountain road. Scully narrowed her eyes at their driver. The others, surprised to hear a car driving away, poured back out of the warehouse to stare at the sedan's rear, momentarily confused. The leader shouted, so they reentered their low, sleek vehicles, beginning the pursuit. But the old man had made many trips up and down the mountain, and soon he had taken so many twisting back roads that the others had given up the chase in hopeless confusion. Mulder, however, had lost all interest in whether they would escape safely or not, since the strain of remembering had destroyed the last of his partner's reserve and control. As if they were still alone in the warehouse, he focused solely on her. All she saw was the blood and tissue clinging to the vehicle, and she had pressed her head into the back of the front passenger seat, shivering. "Scully, it's okay." He slipped one arm under her shoulders while she struggled, fully aware that purging air, as her body was demanding she do, would bring her no relief. Hovering over her, he was horrified that the past few months had brought her this low. "You'll be all right. We'll get through this." As he rubbed her back, she covered her face with both hands. "I'm sorry, Mulder. It's my fault." He frowned. She pushed herself up until she was leaning on the seat back, white-faced and drained. "I didn't think this would happen." He moved his hand to her shoulder. "Hey, that's usually my line." Their driver had watched them in the rear-view mirror silently, but now he added his approval. "She's saved your life, as usual, Mister Mulder, you *should* take good care of her." The agent snarled at him. "What did your butchers do to her?" The old man lit another Morley. "How should I know? I'm no doctor. But we have to be ready, which is why your Father authorized the Project in the first place." Scully lifted her head off the vinyl. "Ready for an invasion? Is that what all these tests, the mutation experiments and secret technologies are for?" Her voice was still hoarse. His reply was an almost inaudible, "Perhaps. It's been so many years since I was really sure, Agent Scully." Mulder hooked his hands over the front seat and tried to look the driver in the face. "How many? Why didn't you tell the American people when you *were* sure? Why did you hide the truth?" The old man rolled his eyes. "Listen to yourselves! Think what would happen if you were to step forward and say you had evidence that there was an invasion coming from the heavens at some indeterminate time in the future. You would be either laughed off, locked up, or accused of trying to cause mass hysteria. It was enough to hide in the shadow of the Cold War, until Gorbachev started his *Perestroika* nonsense." He snorted. "Look what *openness* did to his country. We can't risk that here." The old man glared at the male Agent, determined to throw the Hunter off the scent. "Your Mother is a fine woman, Mister Mulder." He knew it had worked when the younger man glowered at him. "Just what are you to my Mother?" He drew on his Morley, the circle of red advancing towards his lips. "Only a friend, nothing more. I helped her, and you, once. She deserved better than your Father, and than myself, Fox." He gripped the steering wheel, refusing to respond to any more of Mulder's entreaties or threats, until he turned the car into a rest stop. "We've crossed back into Virginia on I-77." He pointed with one index finger, leaving the others wrapped around the steering wheel. "There's your BMW. My associate drove it here for you, just as I said he would." Mulder squinted at the bald man leaving the car. "Who is that?" The man with the Morleys chuckled. "That would be telling, Mister Mulder, just go. The tides of power have ebbed away from me, leaving me stranded. All I can do now is try to protect you and Agent Scully, as I promised I would. My time will come again." The agents exited, but Mulder's dark hair popped back into view. "How do I know you won't shoot me the next time we meet?" The old man blew a long blue stream into his face. "You don't. Consider this a Christmas Day Truce, just like 1914. Don't forget your own motto, it's a good one in this business, but not as original as you might believe. I may not be so helpful when we meet again." Scully tugged his elbow harder until he yielded, following her to the import, but both watched as the black car drove off. She squeezed his arm gently. "Mulder?" He focused on her. Scully pointed at the BMW. "We should assume they planted a bug in there." Nodding, he walked around the car, guiding her by the shoulder to one of the cold benches. "What do you think, is he really out of power?" Aching and exhausted, she rubbed her face with both hands. "For now. But I'd use him, just as he's used us, if we can. Otherwise, with X unable or unwilling to contact you, we have no access to the inner workings of the Shadows, nor do we even know their names, outside of McConnell." He sighed, watching the few travellers trotting up to the public restrooms. "I suppose you're right." He leaned over her. "Will you be okay, Scully?" She took a deep breath. "I don't know. But I would like to clean up a little." "Sure thing." They walked up to stand in line behind the others, more bleary- eyed than the rest. While she was still waiting behind a half- dozen impatient mothers with cranky toddlers, Mulder sent his partner an ironic little grin as he pulled the wide door open. --o-0-o-- Luther slid into the passenger seat as the agents watched, but he remained silent while the Smoking Man backed out and they left the agents behind. When he had awakened to a familiar smell and the old spy's visage, hovering over him in the night, he had believed he was seeing a ghost. A few quick jabs at his old superior's rock-hard gut had taught him otherwise. He decided, then and there, that this man had what it took to survive the changes in power, and decided to link his fortunes to his, just to stay alive. But, Luther was curious. "Why did you let them live?" The old man snorted. "Don't you understand? For a host of completely reversible reasons, they are in the ascendancy right now, not the Organization. So we help them, and by helping them, we weaken the others, until such time as we can be in control again. Then, we can turn the Project back to its original purpose. But, I've cast seeds of doubt in the minds of the FBI, so they too, will be off-balance, and we can shape them to our own ends. Are you sure no one suspects I am still alive?" Luther nodded. "Your former agent and the Four think they only have each other to worry about." He eyed the man in the passenger seat. "Good, then when I return you to DC, this is what I want you to do..." --o-0-o-- Piedmont Motor Inn Wakefield, Virginia Friday, 10:24 pm "Okay, thanks for the directions." Mulder took the room key from the motel clerk, nodded, and hurried back to the car. He had left Scully there, moving back and forth from consciousness into the fitful state she had revisited in the warehouse, and each time she awoke, she would be frightened and confused. Now, he just wanted to find some haven for her to come to be herself again, and this rat-hole off US Highway 460 would have to be it. Forcing his fears out of his mind, he opened the car door and knelt by her. "Hey." She looked over at him, her green-blue eyes clouded but focused. "How much further do we have to go?" He pointed at the long row of tiny rooms. "About twenty yards. Think you can handle that?" At any other time, she would have been insulted, or he would have been teasing, but this time she was worried, and he was very serious. She swung her feet out of the car. "Lay on, James." He wrapped his arm around her waist to help her up. It didn't matter that the room had only one double bed, or no view of the entrance. All she needed was sleep now, rest to strengthen her will so she could deal with the flood of images pouring from her subconscious into her waking mind. He propped her against the car as he retrieved their bags and locked the vehicle. She regarded the low building warily. "Which room?" He pointed again. "173, just six doors down, okay?" She nodded, chewing her lip and stepping forward, slowly but deliberately, before he could wrap his arm around her again. He shortened his stride to stay with her. They moved along the sidewalk in silence, until he grasped her elbow. "This is it, Scully." She leaned into his hand while he unlocked the door and pushed it open. Waiting for her to move, he bowed slightly. "Ma'am?" She surveyed their temporary quarters. "The Ritz-Carlton, Mulder." He let himself grin at her joke, since that was exactly what this place was not. Whatever color the walls had once been, a coating of the exhaust from the endless stream of vehicles on the highway, mixed with the grease from the motel diner, concealed it for all time. The room was narrow, no more than eight feet wide, so the double bed was jammed in the corner and directly in front of the entrance. In the narrow space between the bed and the pocket bathroom door was one rickety particle-board table supporting a brass lamp, green in spots, with a bent harp and dusty shade. Immediately to the left upon entering the room was a fold-down wall-mounted table-top, its linoleum laminate yellowed and dimpled. A single chromed aluminum chair, the plastic cushions shiny with grime, was shoved into the corner. A shelf, supporting the twelve inch black and white TV, with a tensioning rod mounted underneath, positioned over a wall-mounted phone and the foot of the bed, was the room's closet. Neither of them wanted to check the bathroom at the moment, but the sign at the highway had advertised 'clean', so they could hope for reasonably sanitary with fresh towels and hot water, when the situation called for it. She sagged onto the edge of the broken-down mattress, resting her head in her hands and leaning against the wall. "Sorry, Mulder, this is as far as I go tonight." Scully glanced up at the rusted coat hangers, but found she was unable to do more than drop her jacket off her shoulders and onto the threadbare tan carpet. He set their bags in front of the chair and joined her. "No problem, this is as far as either of us go." He rubbed her spine. "If you want to sleep, go ahead." Nodding, she walked around him to the head of the bed, pulling down the covers and unlacing her boots before she crawled in. "At least we won't be wet and cold." Curling up, she sighed. "There was only this room left?" Mulder slid up beside Scully, grasping her shoulder and switching on the brass lamp. He wanted to watch her face for any recurrence of the terror, the only sign that would precede the recovery of more of her memories. "No, but with what could be coming after us, I wanted us together." He glanced back at the door. "It's circle the wagons time, pardner." While her eyes remained closed, one corner of her mouth twitched, grateful for his joke. "Right. How much do you think we can trust *him*?" She felt him stand before tucking the blanket and the surprisingly clean, sweet-smelling sheets more tightly around her, so she opened her eyes. He stared at her, deeply fearful that she had forgotten their previous conversation. "As far as he said, until he sees the tide turn, then the truce is over. We won't know when that is, I don't think, so you rest. We need to be ready." He squeezed her shoulder again before straightening. "Yes." She glanced at the bathroom and slid out from under the covers. "I'll be the first victim." He grinned as she disappeared behind the pocket door. When she emerged, he was in the chair, his feet propped on their bags, and his gun in his lap. Scully slipped back under the blankets, watching him stare somberly out the window. "Thanks, Mulder." His head swiveled, and he regarded her with shadowed eyes. "Why are you thanking me, Scully? If you'd never been assigned to me, if you'd never trusted me, you never would have been taken, and you wouldn't be suffering like this," he murmured as he stared at the holstered weapon, "tested and tortured, and without a sister." He propped his chin on his hand, resting his elbow on the dusty windowsill, to look back at the trucks whizzing by on the two-lane road. She pushed herself off the bed, to stagger down its length, taking a seat at the foot. "I'm thanking you for more than you can know." He dropped his arm to his lap, and turned to face her. "Scully, you don't have to..." She shook her head. "I used to blame you for Missy, until we thought your Mother had died. Helping you through that grief gave me the strength to release my own." His jaw clenched. She covered his hand with hers. "But it wasn't your fault, anymore than my abduction was. I think from what the doctors were saying as they worked on me, I was supposed to have some rare recessive gene they needed. I, or Missy, probably would have been taken at one time or another anyway." He leaned towards her, and in those hazel windows to his soul, she saw one of his burdens of guilt begin to dissolve. "Really? Are you sure?" She shrugged. "As sure as I can be of anything I remember from that time." She frowned, rubbing the red spots on her hand. "But, they should have known. There was an article by a research group at NIH in NEJM about a year ago. I won't bother you with the medical jargon, Mulder, but basically, what they were looking for runs in Irish families, in dark-haired women only." He dropped his feet to the floor. "Your Mom has it?" She nodded, but her partner was frowning. "But that means none of her children inherited it?" Scully glanced at the threadbare, tan carpet. "Missy wasn't born a blonde, Mulder. She started dying her hair in high school." He turned back to the window. "They killed the one who would have had it." He heard her shift, and faced her again. His partner, who had been focused and reasoning just moments earlier, was choking and reddening, crumbling inside herself. He moved over to her, letting the gun fall to the floor, and pulled her into his arms. "Hey, it's okay, you're not alone against this." Scully made no effort to reach around him, but just leaned limply against him, her face hidden in the crook of his arm. Mulder rocked his partner, stroking her hair and rubbing her back while she shivered against his chest. When the worst was over, he carried her up to the head of the bed, settling her on the pillows and pulling the blankets to her chin. He slouched on top of the covers, sliding one arm behind her shoulders, and staying close until she was through the rest of the terror. She had thrown one arm over his stomach, pressing tightly into his side, sometimes crying a little, moving her lips without making a sound. Then, the implanted block swept away, she would speak in a clear voice, recounting details of procedures into his tape recorder he was unsure he could ever listen to again. Finally, the furor within her stilled, and she went limp against him. He gathered the covers tightly around her. He began to move away, to return to his post guarding the door, but she tightened her arm around him, and he smiled. He lowered his face to her ear. "I'll be right back." Scully nodded, then released him enough so he could rise and cross the room to draw the curtains and retrieve his weapon before returning to her. Mulder knew he wouldn't be free to move for hours. He ached from their scramble through the cold, wet woods, and from the knowledge that the slumber he was fighting off would have been recovery for him, too. He pushed the pin through the lamp to cast the room in darkness, knowing she would sleep through the rising of the sun. Once his eyes adjusted to the dim light, he patted his SIG on the nightstand and checked her face a final time. As the silence deepened, his mind drifted along deep currents of thought. He smiled at the memories of his nights over the past five years, reaching a simple, but unshakable conclusion. Whether he had finagled a snooze on her couch, or had propped the adjoining door between their hotel rooms open, he always slept better when she was close by. He didn't know if his ease came from the pleasant associations with his sister, or his much-denied human nature as a social animal. But it was not time for the rest his body craved, now he would watch and guard, protecting his partner until she was strong enough to stand by his side again. --o-0-o-- Georgetown Hospital Washington, DC Saturday, February 8, 1997 2:14 pm Out of the corner of her eye, Amanda caught a wiggling, orange object hovering in her doorway. She closed her laptop and giggled. "Drew, if you bring me any more stuffed animals, I'll have to start giving them away to the kids with leukemia on the fifth floor!" His round face appeared above the tiger, delighted at this new side of her. "Well, in that case," he declaimed, sweeping the assorted cats, zebras, and bears off the mattress, then spinning on his heel, "I will act as your courier." "No, wait!" He looked back over his shoulder. "Not yet. When I leave, okay?" "Sure. Actually it won't just be me stopping by today. 'Finn' and 'Andrew' will swing by in about fifteen minutes." She shook the striped tail on the new tiger. "Oh, what's up?" Drew pulled the hospital chair closer and sat. "Mulder and Scully have slipped past our men, Lisa." She stared at the warehouse for a few minutes. "Oh. That's bad. We can't sanitize too much more of the route before compromising ongoing operations. These older parts, sure, but we need to keep the trains running, and the experiments on schedule, until the transition is complete. After last year, when Mulder almost bought it, you know they both understand that." He nodded. "And they're still too well protected by Matheson for us to touch them." Tentatively, he reached over and took her hand, interlacing his fingers in hers. She smiled and squeezed back. "'Finn''s picked up nothing new working there?" He was focused on their hands. "Hum?" She shook them. "'Finn'? Matheson?" He sighed. "Oh, right. No, we have the classified proposed plan for stand-down, and it's still locked up in committee." 'Charlie' shrugged. "You know how it goes. The Senators whose states would be affected by the job losses are fighting it tooth and nail, claiming national security, etc. etc." 'Ace' nodded. "It's really all about planetary security, if those idiots only understood." She watched 'Charlie' shrug. "It isn't?" "Black Lung wasn't so sure, towards the end, anyway. He would never say anything, but I sort of felt he wasn't too pleased with how the Consortium in Manhattan was running things." She attempted to shift her shoulder, but failed. "Do you have any evidence?" He nodded. "I'd like to see that, and soon." "Okay." He leaned forward, placing a quick kiss on her fingers as they heard the voices of the other two down the hall. 'Ace' and 'Charlie' released their grips before Lindhauer and McConnell entered. As soon as they had entered, 'Ace' addressed the two men, "'Charlie' told me about Mulder and Scully." Lindhauer nodded. "We think we've worked something out." Frowning as he pushed a turtle aside, McConnell sat down on the edge of her mattress. "Yes. I checked the records of membership for the Norfolk chapter of "Sons of White America" and I found a very interesting name there: Scully. Charles O'Shea Scully is apparently a member." The brunette programmer grunted, but 'Charlie' gasped and shot a question back. "He had the document and passed it to his sister before we could break into his house and retrieve it! Would he help us, do you think?" 'Ace' chuckled at the irony of the possibility. "I doubt it. Most military types only talk big, but won't act on their fears." She cocked her head. McConnell held up his hand. "He's also registered his son, John, for tomorrow's meeting, so I think I know how we will be able to stop the FBI and retrieve the report, all in one shot." The four put their heads together, Lindhauer enjoying how much it felt like it was when they were still subordinates, complaining about their bosses again. --o-0-o-- Dark Apartment Fairfax, Virginia Saturday, 2:37 pm As he ascended the short flight of stairs, Luther grumbled to himself about having to break into yet another apartment to retrieve yet another stolen file. He only hoped the occupant would be away, since he had too much respect for his former colleague to enjoy shooting him, if he had too. He also had to admire his old superior, who had navigated a straight course through all the convolutions and reversals. Waiting for three minutes, he began working the lock. Once inside, he checked the rooms and closets in the one-bedroom suite, before settling down to his task. With gloved hands, he switched the papers in the folder on the coffee table with the ones in his jacket, and left as quietly as he had come. After the latch clicked behind his uninvited visitor, X slid the inner cabinet in the side of his coat closet open, pushing his way through the wool wraps to the bifold doors that granted access to his living room proper. The folder on the table had been shifted slightly. He flipped it open and sprawled on the sofa to read. Frowning at the subtle changes in the text and numbers, X stared up at the cobwebs hanging from his ceiling. The lean, athletic African-American pushed himself upright. With a practiced twist, he reached through the coats, slid the side door open, and lifted out a red striped report, straightening the stack he had bumped. Checking at several separate points in the text, he nodded. --o-0-o-- Piedmont Motor Inn Wakefield, Virginia Saturday, 3:47 pm Dana Scully stretched and opened her eyes. She had been drowsing in a swinging hammock on a hot, sticky, *wonderful* summer afternoon, waking to read a few lines in one of the "Jungle Books", or just to watch the birds twitting in the trees. But now she was hungry, it was approaching evening, and time to go in for dinner. "Hey." Her partner, his face deeply lined compared to what it had been earlier, was brushing her hair out of her eyes. She checked around the room. Even though Mulder had closed the drapes, the late afternoon sun filtered in through tears and broken seams. She looked back up at the man she was closer to than any other person in her life, grateful for his presence while she stumbled through her terrors. He was reclining on top of the covers, nestled against her, one arm curled around her body, just as hers was draped over his waist. "How long?" He rolled onto his side to face her, letting her slide back on the pillows as he propped his head up on one hand. "About sixteen hours." He looked down at the door. "So far, no MIB's, or CIA commandos." He pushed himself upright. "You thirsty?" She nodded. He turned away from her. After she heard a snap and a hiss, he swiveled, holding a bottle of mineral water in one hand, and a filled clear plastic cup in the other. Scully sat up and took the cup, draining it slowly. The liquid revived her as she drank, so she crossed her legs under her hips. "Whatever *he* did must have bought us the time we needed." Nodding, the dark-haired man placed the cup and bottle on the table, turned, and rested one hand on her covered knee. "How much do you remember?" "About the warehouse, or my abduction?" He shrugged, and, as she shrank back under the blankets, leaned close to her. Scully paled. "All of it." His face exuded his sympathy and horror, then, offering her the only comfort he could think to give, held his arms out to her. She settled against him. As he enveloped her tightly, she wrapped her arms around his back and dropped her head on his breastbone. Mulder spoke quietly to his partner. "I'm sorry. You never deserved to have to endure any of what you did." Still leaning against his chest, she raised her head until it bumped his chin. "Don't blame yourself, at least the nightmares will stop, right, Dr. Freud?" Smiling, he rested his cheek on her crown of auburn hair. "Yeah, and I know a little more about what happened to Sam." They separated, Mulder shifting to drop his feet to the floor. She turned down the covers and slid over beside him, crossing her stockinged feet in front of her. "How far did we travel along 460?" He glanced over at her expression of quiet confusion. "Wakefield, Virginia. The map showed Portsmouth as another collection point, and..." He glanced at the carpet, not knowing how to break this news to a woman who would never have children. "The guys have been patching messages from your family through to me. You have a new nephew, Charles William Scully." She stood, twisting and heading for the bathroom. "Is Val all right?" He watched her from his perch on the bed. "Yup. Your Mom and her Mom are there, so the Doctor doesn't have to go rushing to the rescue again." Crossing the narrow aisle to the recessed door, Mulder waited until he heard her close the valve in the sink, and pressed his hand flat against the hollow-cored wood. "I have your memories on tape, Scully, so sometime later, when you feel up to it..." She slid the barrier back to gaze up at him. "Sure. But right now?" He stepped in as she exited, placing that same hand on her back so they could pass each other without collision. "Right now, we both shower, and you eat some solid food for the first time in three days, partner." Scully waited for him to emerge, then took the chair as she pulled clean clothes from her bag. When she sensed him hovering over her, she looked up and grasped his wrist. "Thanks for taking care of me." Resting his hand on her shoulder, he smiled briefly. "I'm sorry I almost got us caught, Mulder." He sat on the bed across from her. "Nothing for you to be sorry for. Your body reacted to the memories of the surgery and experiments as if they were really happening again. I know post- traumatic stress syndrome when I see it, Scully. I'm just glad you didn't slip back into a coma." He pointed at the bathroom. "You first. I'll call and have something delivered. We'll pack, eat, and split afterwards." He checked the parking lot through the drapes. "I think we're all right still, the cars outside are different." Nodding, she crossed the narrow aisle, sealing herself off as he reached for the phone on the wall. She poked her head back out to remind him of her dietary preferences. "Light on the - " He smirked. "Cheese, I know. Extra swimmers though, right?" Scully growled and retreated, since he had ribbed her with her least favorite of ingredients. Chuckling, Mulder heard water begin to beat on the floor of the shower stall. --o-0-o-- Scully Home Norfolk, Virginia Saturday, 5:32 pm Margaret released the lever on the pump sprayer and the water stopped running down the crockery, forming into strings of beads instead. She heard her son's cast thumping towards the top of the stairs. "Mom?" She hurried out to look up at him. "Yes, Charlie?" "Where's John?" She crossed her arms. "He's in here playing. You're not serious about taking him to that meeting with you?" He worked his way carefully down the flight, speaking again after he stepped down onto the landing. "Mom, Val and little Charlie won't be home until Monday, and Alice is at the hospital with Val until her condition stabilizes. He's bored around here, and this may be the last quality time I spend with him for a while." Realizing the futility of the argument, Margaret closed her eyes. An image of her grandson struggling to escape a rough pair of hands appeared in her mind, as bright and harsh as a photographer's flash, and she jumped back. "I'm coming with you." Since she used her no-nonsense, 'sass me back and you'll lose your TV privileges for a month' tone, the Son acquiesced, before turning to call the toddler to them. --o-0-o-- Piedmont Motor Inn Saturday, 5:53 pm When she heard a voice outside, Scully checked the figure on the sidewalk through a rend in the curtain. It was a delivery man from the local pizza parlor, who was waiting, two red and white boxes and a stack of paper plates balanced in his hands. She knew then that her partner had ordered as he usually did, two mediums, one with everything, and one veggie, light on the cheese. She scanned the surrounding parking lot, and let the gap fall closed. Her partner, his weapon cocked but held behind his back, jerked his head at the door. Opening it, Scully paid the man quickly, with a generous tip, before she closed and locked it. Holstering his weapon, he set it, in the leather case, on the raised shelf. Flipping the box top, Mulder grinned at the steaming mound of sausage and pepperoni piled on the dough. As the smell hit Scully's nostrils, she found she was ravenously hungry, so she pulled two pieces from the veggie pizza to her paper plate. Frowning at her partner when he grabbed for a black olive dangling from one side of the slice she was holding aloft, she handed him half the stack of plain white paper napkins. --o-0-o-- Bojangles drive-through Norfolk, Virginia Saturday, 6:07 pm Margaret passed the stained bag over the seat to her son and grandson. Little John had been hungry, so they stopped for fried chicken and a biscuit. "Your drinks, Ma'am." The blond, pole-thin teenager with faint fuzz on his chin, leaned forward, holding out the cardboard tray with a large and a child-sized cup stuck through the holes. When he saw his Mother shudder, Charlie leaned forward, still holding the bag high while his whining son grabbed for it. "Mom? Are you all right?" She shook her head. A picture of those same rough hands, reaching out for her, had struck her with an almost physical impact. "I'm fine, Charlie." She forced a smile as she guided the car forward to the intersection and checked the traffic. --o-0-o-- Piedmont Motor Inn Saturday, 6:42 pm Scully eyed the last piece of Mulder's pizza. Her partner was sprawled happily on the bed, rubbing his stomach. "Dunno, Scully, you're missing some *really* good stuff." He lifted his head to focus on her. "You want that, Dr. Ornish?" She frowned. "No. I was thinking about how the women there were all so much meat for them to cut up." Now he pulled himself erect. "Why was it mostly women they were after, Scully?" The irony of her answer brought a wry smile to her lips. "In a way, you were partly right about the genetic sampling." Puzzled, he leaned forward. "Oh?" "Yes. Much of what I saw there was cell collection and testing. In a woman, you have a more than complete set of human chromosomes, since the Y is a truncated X. The size differences between the two are why so many recessive-gene traits, like color-blindness or hemophilia are sex-linked." He cocked his head, thinking. "I always wondered about that. So men only have one copy of certain genes, and if that one's recessive, then we always develop the disease or the deficiency." He looked to her for confirmation. She smiled. "To someone with no medical knowledge, the procedures will seem other worldly, but, it's all human experience, as far as I can remember." Mulder crossed his arms, attempting to piece together the accounts she gave him earlier. "But, you said in the warehouse they kept you there through three full moons. Why would that matter, if all they wanted were the chromosomes?" She tucked her drying hair behind her ear. "The medical knowledge the doctors around me displayed was not all that far beyond most of the advanced experimental procedures I've read about in the journals." His eyes narrowed. She lifted her chin, responding to his thought as if it had been spoken. "They need ova for vis-vitro development, Mulder. No one has solved the problem of mitosis without reproductive cells, so they use the live ova, with the extra commands for rapid replication, and they replace the genes within for testing." He stared down at his boots. "That mitosis thing is one hurdle that keeps 'Jurassic Park' just a book, given our present technology." "Right, rapid cell division doesn't happen with normal DNA. I was never sure why my cycles were so irregular after my coma, and why my ovaries stopped functioning so soon after the surgery, but, I think, in addition to the mature eggs, they took most of the immature ova as well." She shrugged. "They may have developed a way to bring them to maturity through hormone injections. If they could already grow fetuses outside the body, it wouldn't be too difficult." Her partner stood and touched her shoulder. "But the man in Klemper's Greenhouse talked about hybrids." Scully rose as well, chewing her lip. "I should have thought of this then, Mulder. What if the hybrids were between species, but not between extraterrestrials and Homo Sapiens, just between closely related primates?" His eyes cleared. "Chimpanzees and humans." She nodded. "The intelligence of a person, in a body with the equivalent strength of an adult chimp or gorilla, although it would probably be sterile, would make the perfect soldier for a high-tech war." She smiled at his disbelieving look. "It's not as much Science Fiction as you might expect, Mulder. Think of the cross between lions and tigers called a tiglion or liger, depending." He stared. "What?" "No joke. The average human polypeptide is more than 99% identical with its counterpart in chimps. The mean genetic distance between Homo Sapiens Sapiens and the Genus Pan is less than that between the horse and the donkey, and we know they can be cross-bred. Since the mid-seventies, several different geneticists have speculated that it might be possible, but always considered the experiment unethical to perform." He shook his head. "Yeah, one thing the Shadows have never had too much of is scruples." He stepped back and slid the partition between them as she checked the room for any remaining possessions. "Scully?" She turned to see his dark head protruding through the slit in the doorway. "Hum?" "Sterile would mean they needed to keep creating new ones all the time, right?" She nodded. "It would explain all those up-to-date records in the old Strughold Mine, too. As our medical knowledge improved, they could be more precise about whom they kidnapped for their tests and experiments." He stepped back, sliding the door shut. --o-0-o-- Virginia Beach Pavilion & Convention Center Virginia Beach, Virginia Saturday, 7:03 pm Margaret guided the Volvo into a parking space between two jacked- up pick-ups, both with chromed roll-bars. Twin Confederate flags were pasted in the bottom corners of the back windshield, flanking a loaded gunrack, and the bumper was plastered with slogans: "America, love it or leave it", "Every Mother is a Working Mother", "God said it, I believe it, and that settles it". Margaret shook her head. While she agreed with many of the sentiments behind the jingoisms, seeing them here cast them all in a far more sinister light. Her anxiety increased the closer they came to the entrance. Charlie finally stopped. "Mom? Will you please tell me what's bothering you?" She stood stock-still. "I just don't feel we should be here, Charles. There is something wrong about all this, I know it." He fiddled with the rubber hand pad on his left crutch. "Oh, Mom, don't start the woo-woo stuff again. At least Dana never fell for it, even though Mel did. We'll be fine. John?" The toddler was crouching, seriously concentrating on something. "Daddy? I think I need to go." The simple request broke the tension. Margaret scooped him into her arms. "It's all right, Charles, I'll see to this; you go on in." As she carried him around to the restrooms, she saw a group of men outside, who looked too well- dressed to blend into the rest of the crowd, who were in jeans, cowboy hats, and flannel shirts. Then she spotted the women's room, and she was Gamma again. "Look, John, we're here." But the little boy had overheard his father talking. "I'm big enough, Gamma, I want to use Daddy's bafroom, not yours!" Margaret blanched. The child had firmly set his jaw. She recognized one Scully trait that John inherited from his Gamma and Daddy. "Okay, just this once." She carried him to the other side of the partition, and they waited until another Father, all flaxen curls and pale blue eyes, approached with his own son, who looked almost like his miniature. "Excuse me, but would you...?" He nodded, bent down, and held out his hand to John. "Hey there, my man, I'm Roger, and this is Alex." Awed, the little boy shook it. Margaret leaned over. "Remember what Mommy taught you, John-John." The toddler pumped the giant palm with all his might. "Hi! I'm John Scully." Roger laughed. "He has a future in politics, that's for sure, Mrs. Scully?" He watched her nod. "Well, John, shall we take care of some guy stuff?" Smiling, she held the men's room door while Roger shepherded the two boys inside. --o-0-o-- After walking with Roger and Alex to the children's area, the younger man offered Margaret his arm and they sought out her son. As the two pushed though the crowd, they traded facts about themselves. She nodded with sympathy as he recounted his wife's recent death from ovarian cancer. "Mom! Roger!" Charlie waved them over, pointed to four empty seats beside him. The two men shook hands. "Chuck! I didn't know this was your Mother." She smiled at his surprise. "There aren't *that* many Scullys, are there?" Roger shrugged. "I should have seen the family resemblance right off, since Chuck and I have talked so many times before at the local Sons Chapter." As the lights came down, the crowd quieted, and the announcer opened the rally by calling a local minister forward to give an Invocation. After the prayer was finished, Margaret studied the leaders and guests on the stage. One, with red curls and glasses, seemed faintly familiar, but she focused on the announcer again, who was explaining the remainder of the program. She was relieved to hear that they would be finished by 10:14 pm and could make an early night of it. --o-0-o-- Along US Highway 460 Saturday, 8:17 pm Dana Scully glanced over at her partner as he inhaled deeply, forcing himself awake. Since he had been staggering from his forced insomnia as they had packed and left, she had ordered her partner to use the time to nap, hoping his full stomach would keep him out for a few hours. But, she could tell it was to no avail. "Hey, you shouldn't be awake this soon, Mulder. You could barely keep your eyes open in those old dock-side warehouses we thought had been used by the Consortium in Portsmouth." She flashed him a tiny smile of reassurance. He blinked as he focused out his window. "Where are we now?" She glanced down at the odometer. "Headed west on 460." After checking his watch, he stared over at her. "Already? Well, that proves I should never argue with a Navy kid. This *was* almost as fast as high-tailing it out of town on I-64." Scully tucked her chin. "It isn't only that, Mulder. We agreed as to what we expect an unaltered site should look like, but if we take the interstate, we'll be miles away from them so we can't stop and check." She pushed her hair behind her ear. "It won't be *that* much later before we reach San Diego and begin searching for Sam." He had been deep in thought for the time she had slept, question after question peppering his sleep-deprived mind. Now, he checked her readiness to converse with a quick roll of his eyes. "Scully?" She nodded as she turned her attention back to the white strips in the headlights. "Yes, Mulder?" "Sam was only a child when she was taken. How could they..." She lifted an eyebrow. "Sample her for ova for the experiments?" She shrugged. "Your Mother said she would just lose her memory, right?" She checked for his assent. "As horrible as it is to contemplate, I think - " "You think she was retested once she reached puberty?" "Probably. Like me, she may not even have been aware it was happening the second time around." "Oh." He fell silent, watching the lighted houses pass to their rear, turning only when his partner began speaking. "She's strong, Mulder, she's your sister and Caroline's daughter. She'll be all right when you find her." He punched the dashboard, then shoved the reddening hand under his arm. "I wasn't there for her, Scully. She was all alone when they did the things to her they did to you." He bit his lip. She glanced at the torn skin on his knuckles and shook her head. "Hey, I had the strength of your beliefs, remember? She must know you loved her, somewhere inside her." She signaled and passed a dusty blue pick- up truck, knowing what she had said sounded terribly silly, but it unfurrowed her partner's forehead. "Scully?" His voice was so low and tenuous she was afraid he had hurt himself. "Hum? You okay, Mulder?" He pursed his lips. "I'm still having trouble squaring all your memories against what happened with that clone of my sister." She pulled off into the parking lot of a now-closed bank and turned off her cel phone. He touched her arm. "Are you all right, Scully? Should I drive?" As she shifted to face him, she shook her head. "I just wanted to talk to you with all my attention, Mulder. I'm convinced now that what's happened to us over the past five years falls into a completely different category from the standard abduction stories. We've seen too much that can't be explained as normal hallucinations, that does not fit with these nebulous, hazy products of an overcharged imagination." He cocked his head. "Sculleeee, don't tell me, that after all we've seen, you think it was only human activity that was involved?" She gripped the leather seat with both hands, so he waited for the explosion. But, she continued in a hushed voice, speaking as if she were the only one in the car, "Oh, Mulder, is that it? Does it hurt less that way? The monsters are all out there." She waved at the black sky. "Not in here." She touched her chest, then took in his befuddled expression. "I'm sorry, I've never thought of your theories quite like that before." "I don't understand what you're saying, Scully." But her mind was racing, and she let out a small laugh. "Of course, I should have seen this before." She started laughing, louder and longer. "Of course, that's it!" He grasped her elbow. "Scully! Are you all right?" She was beaming, the sight bringing a twitch to his lips as well. "What, can you tell me?" Excited, she leaned as close to him as she, in the deep bucket seats, could. "We can't solve a problem if we look in the wrong place for the answers." Finally comprehending, he leaned back. "The experiments on you had nothing to do with that woman who claimed to be my sister; the cloning techniques were too advanced." She nodded. "If that was a clone and if it was of your sister." He shifted in the seat, staring at her in a lengthening silence before he spoke. "What?" Scully glanced at him. "I hope when we find her that she doesn't look anything like the woman who was in Massachusetts, that her visit was all part of some scheme to throw you off the trail. I so wish my memories had held all the answers for us both, Mulder, but I don't think they do. What they really are, since I'm not blessed with an eidetic memory like you, are my perfectly fallible recollections, filtered through a mind that imposes reason and order on everything it sees." He shifted around to face her. "Do you think your memories were tampered with in ways we haven't determined yet?" She shrugged. "I don't know, Mulder. We've learned much more than I ever thought we would, and I'll try to make sense of everything I've said for you, but, I really can't understand, how if the doctors were crossing humans and chimpanzees, they would end up producing so many duplicates. Or, how or even whether ova from your sister were given away to produce that woman who visited you. Or, why the copies would decompose so rapidly after death." He crossed his arms. "Could it just be that aliens are involved, even though you won't admit it?" She dropped her head in her hands. "Of course it could, Mulder, I'm a scientist, too, and it would be wrong of me to ignore that possibility." He waited, having had this discussion with his partner many times before. He expected a long lecture on not assigning god-like powers to the aliens, to which he would respond that perhaps their science was so far beyond ours it only looked like magic. That usually earned him a first-class Look, and a flood of words he couldn't begin to comprehend, no matter how many times he reread Kip Thorne or James Gleick. Her next sentence, spoken in the same soft voice, surprised him. "I've already admitted it." He thought back to that conversation they shared as they bandaged each other for the last time. "You did, and I shouldn't push you on it." She turned her face towards him. "You've been so certain that Sam and I were in the same places, suffering the same tortures. I want to think she was too, Mulder, because then we would have a trail, something tangible we can follow to her. Otherwise..." He stared out the window, finishing the sentence in a hollow, immensely tired voice. "If she was whisked away in a beam of light that was more than an implanted memory, we don't have a clue or a prayer of bringing her back." He felt her rubbing his shoulder, so he looked down at her white hand, then up at her sorrowing face. She wanted to comfort him, but could only manage an apology. "Please, don't think I wanted her to suffer. If anything, I hope she escaped what the MUFON women and I went through, Mulder, that she was just sent on to a new life." She tightened her grip, but he sat up suddenly and patted her hand, so she released him. "Actually, Scully, you may be on to something. The woman your Father showed me didn't look like the one who came to my Father, she looked like," he explained, frowning, "well, more like a cross between my Mother and myself." He swallowed as the full horror in the revelations dawned on him. "But that would mean my Father, that he knew, willfully lied to both Mom and me, at least until the end, when he told my Mother a part of the truth." He stared at her, chewing his lip. Scully nodded. "Mulder, he may have had no choice in the matter, you don't know. But, the willful, well, after what Caroline told me, I'd believe that." The strain of the past few days as well as the absolute absence of meaningful rest tore away any self-control the sensitive man who was her partner may have had. His anger flared. "You were so close to your Father, how can you know..." Enraged, he flung the door open and stomped into the darkness. "Mulder, I didn't mean..." She hurried after him, calling out to him. When she found him, leaning against a flood-killed oak and weeping jaggedly, Scully stood in front of her partner, trying to soothe any hurt she may have inadvertently caused. "Please, that sounded harsher than I meant it to. I'm sure your Father *did* love you, as best he could." She could not bring herself to relate to him all Caroline had told her, knowing now his Mother had been correct to pass on to him as little as she had. He had covered himself with his jacket while he tried to sleep, so had left the car in only his black canvas shirt. Mulder shook his head fiercely, the words escaping through chattering teeth. "I tried to please him, really I did, with all the grades and awards, but he never even noticed me half the time, and the other half, well..." She touched his arm, connecting in the only manner that would reach him at this moment. Mulder stared down at her. "Your Father truly loved you, Scully, honestly was proud of you, genuinely wanted to be with you. But, mine..." A fresh pair of tears rolled down either side his nose. "I've spoken with Max more openly than William Mulder ever wanted to converse with me." She reached up to cover one cheek with her hand, pulling the sticky wetness aside with her thumb, gratified when he let it rest there, rather than stepping away or pushing it off. "I'm sorry, I spoke without thinking, Mulder. You're right, I don't know. Come back into the car and tell me what it was like, if you feel you can." He nodded. She dropped her hand to tug on his arm, until he followed her, childlike in his obedience, into the warmth of their vehicle. Once they were buckled in, she swiveled in the driver's seat. "I've never told you the rest of what I think your Father said to me on the Solstice, did I?" He shook his head. "Well, he said we'll find Sam together, just as you think my Father said as well." "Oh." She glanced over at him again. "Mulder?" He was ruminating, and when he spoke, it seemed to her he was thinking through his speech, not initiating a conversation. "If the Bounty Hunter said she was still alive, both our Fathers said we'll find her, and the woman I saw doesn't look like the clone, then maybe there is hope." She lifted an eyebrow, two thoughts appearing simultaneously. and He shook his head, sending her a tiny, apologetic smile. Scully responded, "Maybe we both wanted it to be true, and convinced ourselves of the fact through our mental experiences that night." She shrugged. "You tell me, you're the psychologist." He sighed. "It's possible, Scully." He dropped his head against the headrest. "Or is it just enough that you want to help me find her? Sometimes I lose hope of seeing her again, but then a new piece of the puzzle turns up, like that document, or like you recovering your memories. Then I think she's not so far away, so I can keep looking." He rubbed his face with one hand. She studied the dark circles under his eyes and listened to the catch in his voice with her doctor's senses. But it was as his friend that she spoke, hoping to persuade him to rest before he burned out worrying about his sister. "I hope we learn something about Sam on this trip, Mulder; we've never been this close before." Lifting the black leather jacket from the floor, Mulder slipped back into it. "I know. We need to take advantage of this opportunity, Scully." She chewed her lip as she squinted at the motel sign across the street. "They have an all-night diner. We could grab something more substantial than pizza. Do you want to check in for some real sleep? You haven't had more than an hour or two at a time since Wednesday night." He shifted to face her, squaring his shoulders, and forcing a faint grin. "Nah, just some coffee will do me fine. We should try to put another fifty miles behind us before we stop tonight." He paused, searching for words to reassure her, but those two quick sentences were all the eloquence he could manage. --o-0-o-- Virginia Beach Pavilion & Convention Center Virginia Beach, Virginia Saturday, 9:21 pm Margaret was impressed by the polish of the speakers, but there were words and phrases she was extremely uncomfortable hearing, over and over. Little things, like: "A Christian Nation" Since coming to know Caroline Lowenberg, she had been made forcefully aware of the power of the majority to slowly silence differences in personality. She was bothered that Caroline's son had turned his back so firmly against the religion and culture of his ancestors. Or: "English only" Or: "Reading, writing, and 'Rithmetic are what our kids need to learn today" She shifted in her seat, wondering how John was doing. She had left him babbling and tossing a ball with Alex, and found herself hoping her premonitions were groundless. Then the red-haired speaker rose and took the microphone. As he began his presentation, Margaret's jaw dropped. When he took his glasses off, she felt herself gripping the armrests. Heedless of the eyes fastened on her, she pushed her way into the aisle and started running for her grandson, sending up two quick prayers, one to the Blessed Mother, and the other to St. Brigid for his safety. Concerned, Charlie watched her, then hoisted himself to his feet. After a moment's thought, Roger declined to join them. --o-0-o-- Margaret pushed through the double doors. The well-dressed men she had seen earlier lined the walls, and the children were huddled in the center with the young women who were taking care of them. A slender man, barely into his twenties, grabbed her. "Who are you?" Margaret drew herself up very straight. "That's not important. What do you want with these little boys?" "Where is the Scully child? Where is John Scully?" She clamped her lips together. "I don't know anyone by that name. What do you want with these children?" She stared at the hand on her sleeve as it tightened around it. "What is your name?" At that moment, Charles clomped through the door, giving Margaret the opportunity to wrench her arm free. He frowned at the scene. "Mom? What's going on here?" One of the other men stepped forward, tall and blond, almost Scandinavian in complexion. Set deep in his face were a pair of liquid blue eyes, the color not that of a clear lake in high summer, but of a glacier, cold enough with hatred to freeze Margaret in place. He had the air of a leader, and the other man moved her out of his way. The tall man confronted Charlie. "Are you Charles O'Shea Scully?" Before Margaret could catch his eye, he replied in the affirmative. Lindhauer pointed his finger at the quiet huddle of boys. "Which of these is John Scully?" Charlie swallowed. "He's not here. We left him home with his other grandmother." Margaret nodded. Lindhauer walked over to Alex and lifted him off the carpet, shaking him until the block he was holding fell from his tiny hand. "Don't lie. Is this your son?" When Charlie stammered a no the boy was dropped carelessly, but as Lindhauer reached for the next child, the officer's nerves failed. "What do you want from me?" Lindhauer stepped away from the children, descending on him like a falcon. "We want your sister to return the document, and delete the computer copies we know she has had made." Margaret clenched her fists. "Charlie, what is this all about?" His jaw worked. "Mom, do you have Dana's cel phone number?" At her nod, Lindhauer produced his own, and she punched the buttons as he supported it. After several rings, he snarled at her. "There's no answer." He pushed the unit in her face. "Try again." From memory, she tapped out Fox Mulder's number, praying that one of them was still awake to respond. --o-0-o-- Along US Highway 460 Saturday, 9:48 pm Checking his sleeping partner, Mulder lifted his cel phone out of his jacket to disable the ringer so as not to wake her. He glanced at the briefcase by her leg with the report in it. He had gently persuaded her to forego her coffee for a quick snooze. She needed to rest, despite her protests, and, normally, a catnap or two would be good enough for him. Her immediate concern for him when he had run from the car both heartened him as to the state of their partnership, and chastened him for his own, too numerous, shortcomings. She had learned when he needed her to come after him, to pull him back to reality, but he couldn't afford to indulge himself in too many bouts of self-pity. It was, as the man with the Morleys reminded him so forcefully, too dangerous. He shifted in the seat to check the rear-view mirror. There was one car, way back behind them, but it turned off, so they were still clear of the Shadows. The twists of fate astonished him, and he would have to speak to his Mother as soon as possible. The cel phone vibrated against his chest, so he lifted it to his ear. "Mulder." He listened. Despite the whisper, Scully stirred and looked over at him to see he was deadly serious. Sensing his partner was awake, Mulder let himself growl, "How do I know this is real? Why would you ...? How do you...? Where are you? We'll be there in three hours, no more." He terminated the call and pulled off into the nearest driveway. "Scully?" She straightened, her coat crumpling into her lap. "What? What's wrong?" He had pushed the car door open and was jerking his head towards the road. She flew out and hurried down the blacktop to stand by him under a tall street lamp, where they both clasped their jackets tightly around themselves. "Scully, your nephew has been taken hostage, along with twenty other two-year-olds." "Mulder! Who was that?" He leaned close to her. "One of the new Shadow leaders, as far as I could tell. For the report, they'll exchange your Mom, brother, and the kids, as long as the Gunmen purge all digital copies, but we have ten hours to make up our minds." Lifting his cel phone out of his jacket, he pressed the third speed dial button, but Scully terminated the call. He stared at her. "We knew this was coming." "You're okay with this, Mulder? I would understand if you wanted to keep going." She inhaled deeply. "Really, I would." His shoulders drooped. "We don't have much choice, do we? It's wrong for your family to be ensnared as mine was, and as we are; besides, we've lost so much, you and I." She chewed her lip. "What?" Scully eyed her partner seriously. "I think I see a way out of this." She leaned against him, pulling down on his shoulder. "Did they ask for the version we have on film?" Shaking his head, his eyes widened with comprehension at the import of her question, whispered in his ear. He draped one arm over her shoulders and breathed into her hair. "I don't think they know about that, Scully, but how can we use it?" "Your memory, Mulder, have you ever tried to reproduce something exactly from an image in your mind?" Both eyebrows shot up on his forehead. "You mean like that report? I could try. Are you suggesting I memorize the unsanitized version, compare it against the photos you and Frohike took, and fill in the deletions after the exchange?" She nodded. "Are you awake enough to do that?" Reveling in her optimism, he grinned and stepped back. "I am now. I may not retain all the details exactly, but it *will* be better than nothing. There are stray ink marks left on the sanitized pages, so I'll concentrate on those recovered parts. You wanna drive back to Norfolk, Cato?" She crinkled her nose at him as they returned to the expensive green rental. --o-0-o-- Virginia Beach Pavilion & Convention Center Virginia Beach Sunday, February 9, 1997 12:27 am There were only three sleek black vehicles in the parking lot next to the Volvo station wagon when the BMW pulled in alongside them all. After the conversation with Mulder, the men had escorted the Scullys outside, leaving the remaining children all too frightened to say much to their parents when they came to take them home. Margaret wondered if the blond leader knew how many nightmares he was responsible for inflicting on those helpless boys, but she suspected he didn't think much about such things. She watched through the rear windshield of one of the sedans as Dana stepped out of the driver's side, and Fox unfolded himself from the other, carrying a small brown briefcase. The tall leader, accompanied by the red-haired speaker, approached their car. Both agents stiffened when they saw the ruddy curls and glasses, and her daughter's partner moved over so he faced McConnell, not Dana, offering her what protection he could. While she could hear no words, Margaret could read, by the almost imperceptible clues in his body language, that Fox was ready to assault the shorter of their adversaries, should he approach his partner too closely. The red-haired man seemed to be aware of it too, and stared down at the briefcase the FBI agent had handed him. Finally, a simple gesture from the leader towards the cars, doors opened, and Margaret offered her son a hand up, as little John, overwhelmed by the evening's events, raced out. Scully knelt to pick up the child, his wide eyes fastened on the retreating backs of the men who had held them captive, as the two strolled casually away from the terror they had caused. Scully faced the older woman. "Mom." While the toddler clung to the Agent's neck, the two women embraced. Margaret checked her daughter over closely for the first time in more than a week. "Dana, you look terrible." Barely hearing the cars pull out, they laughed, more with relief than amusement. "I mean, it's wonderful to see you, but have you slept at all?" Scully shook her head. "I'm fine, Mom, it's Mulder who hasn't." The older woman looked up. The lines and grey pallor choked off her words of sympathy, so she hugged him with all her strength, feeling him curl over her. He rested his head on hers. "I'm okay, Mrs. Scully." He stepped away to rub her arms. "We'll both be all right, as long as you are all safe." As Scully passed John to Margaret, Charles finally joined them, and, feeling awkward, the siblings exchanged handshakes. Mulder felt for his partner. Scully was backing away from her brother and towards him, shrugging off the other man's nearly inaudible thanks. "As long as you are all okay, Charlie, it's fine. I'm sorry you had to go through all this." Hidden from the view of the rest, Mulder pressed his hand into her back, and she reached behind her to grasp briefly it in gratitude. Charles Scully pointed one crutch at the Volvo. "We'll meet you at my house, all right?" Margaret commanded quickly, and firmly, "Don't either of you think about driving back to DC tonight, not in the shape you're in." Mulder and Scully exchanged a glance before he raised both eyebrows. "I guess we've been told, right?" She nodded. "See you back at the ranch, Mom, Charlie." In three minutes, the BMW and Volvo sped away to Norfolk, leaving the parking lot completely deserted. --o-0-o-- Unidentified Airplane over the Piedmont Sunday, 2:18 am Closing the less than pristine document, Lindhauer slipped it into a bag, and sealed the container. In a few weeks, the contents would be meaningless, since the last of active operations were due to be switched over to a fleet of eighteen-wheelers, augmented by small jets, like the one they presently occupied. The planes would deliver the more sensitive merchandise from Central America. It had been the "War on Drugs" that required they keep the old lines and routes active. But, with the Democrats back in power, a few well-placed words about civil liberties as well as the futility and expense of patrolling thousands of miles of coastline, would soon curtail the official surveillance. Lindhauer glanced across the narrow flight table at McConnell, who was just finishing up a phone conversation. "So, how did recruiting go?" McConnell smiled. "We'll have several new squadrons to call on, whenever we need them. Combining patriotism, with an offer of good employment driving semis, as many of these guys used to do, was more than sufficient enticement." He laid the cel phone on the table. "That was Luther. He's examined Black Lung's personal estate, and it's just as we thought. Not only was his investment portfolio flush with profits, he had made arrangements to travel to the Mediterranean just before he was killed." Lindhauer nodded. "So the old men had succeeded in finally assassinating him; he wasn't plotting to fake his own death, as 'Charlie' had thought. His thing for 'Ace' has muddled his mind. Good. That only leaves us with two major problems." McConnell glowered. "X can still be useful. Let me handle him." Lindhauer sighed. "Very well then, one. I suggest we keep a much closer eye on Mulder and Scully in the future." He pointed to the bag. "That, was too close for comfort." "What do we do about 'Ace' and 'Charlie'?" Falling silent, the two men stared out their respective windows. --o-0-o-- Apartment 5 Alexandria, Virginia Monday, February 10, 1997 8:47 pm Margaret checked the cars in the parking lot before she turned to her daughter, who was cuddling the Pomeranian and talking absolute nonsense to his little pricked-up ears. The elder Scully had been away from Annapolis long enough, Charles had returned to light duty, and Alice could take care of Val, John, and little Chuck until her daughter-in-law was back on her feet. Margaret took a step towards Scully. "I hope Charlie's learned his lesson, Dana, and he stays away from those groups you warned him about." She stood over her daughter. "Honey, will there be anything more I should be aware of, or can I go home and sleep in peace?" Before replying, Scully settled the little dog in her lap, continuing to scratch the center of his spine. "Mom, I don't know. Mulder and I have spent the day in his office, trying to predict what the Shadows will attempt next so we can develop defensive strategies. But for you, the best I can say is to keep an eye out, just as you have been since Thanksgiving. We'll bring the Gunmen around to sweep the house if needs be. And..." Her mother nodded. "I know, Dear. Call the police if I have any suspicions." Scully looked up at Margaret. "No, Mom, I'd like you to start carrying a cel phone with you so you can request help if you need to. Yes, call the police, but one of us afterward as well." Dana Scully held up her hand. "I'll pay for it, you need to be able to call for assistance anywhere, not just from the basement or kitchen." Margaret sobered. She walked over to the sofa and sat by her daughter, placing her hand on her cheek, covering the dark circle under her eye with her thumb. "Okay. I'll take care of it at my end. You and Fox rested so little in Norfolk. Will you be all right?" Scully buried her face in the long red fur. "I'm fine, Mom." Margaret shook her head. The older woman settled back on the cushions. "How is Fox?" The wiggling canine jumped to the floor at Scully's feet. He sauntered off to the bathroom, sniffing loudly as he checked his old home for any scent of interlopers. "He's run down, Mom, but he's in that odd stage of exhaustion he reaches where he seems to be, well, happy. He brought in bagels for Cynthia and myself this morning." Her eyes bright, she lifted one corner of her mouth. "'Low-fat doughnuts', he says, just before he slathers on an inch-thick layer of garlic and scallion cream cheese." While her nose crinkled at her daughter's copycat gestures, Margaret laughed. "At least you're both mending, Honey." Squaring her shoulders, Dana Scully nodded. "It should be slow at work for a while. Nichols was supposed to start with us next Monday, but one of the drug busts he was in charge of was moved forward in Federal Court, so he'll be busy preparing and delivering his testimony for at least the next three weeks." Margaret frowned. "This Nichols is one of your new Agents?" Her cel phone buzzed, she answered, then listened to her caller for a few moments. "Oh, really, Mulder? When did you hear that? Did you want to show it to me?" She raised her chin, and her Mother heard amusement creep into her voice as Dana Scully continued, "Oh, Mom's here right now. Bye." She terminated the call. "He's on the way over, but he says Hi, in case you hit the road before he arrives." Margaret shook her head. "I'll always make time for him, he ought to know that by now. I love speaking with him when he calls." Scully stared. "He calls you?" "Mum-hum. Just yesterday, he phoned to tell me you were both home safe, and we chatted for nearly an hour." When her daughter repeated the question in astonishment, Margaret took her hand. "I think he feels he's earned my love by helping rescue the three of us, but he shouldn't have such a low opinion of himself." She fixed her only girl in a gentle motherly stare. As the Pomeranian clicked through the hall and turned into the kitchen for a few slurps of water, Scully followed his flopped- over tail with her eyes. Margaret patted her arm, still bothered by the angry red marks she saw there. "Are you sure you don't want him back?" Her daughter sobered. "No, he's safer with you, and you're more secure because you have him." Margaret couldn't contain the, to her, obvious comparison. "And you have Fox." As she expected, her daughter's head snapped around, her red hair lifting away from her neck like a swirling skirt. "*Mother*! I do not *have* Mulder!" The older woman covered her smile by turning to fluff one of the embroidered pillows. "Yes, dear." They listened to the thud of footsteps on the carpet in the hall, stopping at her door, and Scully walked over to unlock it. Judging by his rounded shoulders, Margaret knew the man on the other side was, just as Dana had indicated, careworn. But, the quick little smile he favored Margaret with before his eyes settled on his partner radiated contentment. "Hey." As Scully led him back to her sofa, Margaret caught his swift grasp of her daughter's shoulder. She watched as the long fingers trailed partway down her back before Dana stepped away, so the older woman rose and hugged him. Instead of the confused withdrawal she expected, Mulder returned her embrace warmly, then held her out at arm's length. "You'll be travelling back to Annapolis tonight, Mrs. Scully?" "Yes, I will Fox, and I'd better start soon. Sweetie?" The little canine entered as if waiting his cue, but Scully intercepted him for one final squeeze. As she took the dog, Margaret kissed her daughter goodbye, and turned to go, passing the tall man. His eyes were twinkling. "Hey!" The Pomeranian under her arm, Margaret stood on tiptoe to hold his head and peck his cheek, before she waved at the pair and stepped out. Scully looked up at her partner, surprised by his unabashed request for affection. "So, where's the article on the abductees found lying in a spiral in a wheat field in Cornwall?" When he sat, she picked up on his changed mood and settled by his side. "What is it?" He fingered the remote she had dropped on the coffee table. "We still need to work through your memories, and I need to write down what I've stashed in mine, before I begin to forget." "So? We have the next two weeks, Mulder." He shook his head. "Not here, Scully." She raised an eyebrow. "But the Gunmen swept the office for us this morning." He drew two plane tickets partially out of his jacket pocket and wiggled them. "Miami, partner, where we won't be disturbed. I've already cleared it with Skinner." After a quick glance at the front door, she frowned. "If Mom finds out..." Chuckling, he rolled his eyes. "She'll start picking out China patterns, I know." He bent forward to remove his waist-length coat. "But, up here, we could easily be pulled into another case by VC, and we need to concentrate. Down there, if you need to take a break or something, it won't be like it was in January, with our families around." They stared at each other for a long moment. He had weighed their options, and considered this the most expedient course of action, she knew, but she also understood he would respect her decision. "I'll have to think about this, Mulder." He nodded. "I'll make some herbal tea, all right?" He stepped into the kitchen, jacket and tickets in hand. While she listened to the water running and the cabinet doors opening and closing, she powered up the television, and groaned. The local news station was showing a Winter Storm Warning for the following evening, calling for another two feet of accumulation. He spun when she appeared in the doorway. "When are those tickets for, Mulder?" Smirking, he pointed to the polychrome folders on the kitchen table, next to the coat that was carelessly dangling off one side of a kitchen chair, so she crossed over to read them. "Tomorrow at eleven on Delta, Scully. I've checked with Max. He depends on the Jenkins to keep an eye out for him, but he'd rather someone was in the house periodically. That way it's kept up, and doesn't become an easy target for burglary. He's already alerted his cleaning and gardening services." She thought about the warmth and sun, the beach and the pool. She remembered the week of frustration, slipping on ice, fighting to find parking spaces that weren't filled with piles of snow, and knew what she wanted. "I'll start packing right now, okay?" He arched an eyebrow. "I knew I could make a believer of you, Scully." She stopped in the doorway to call back to him. "You're all ready to go, aren't you, Mulder?" He walked up behind her to lean over her shoulder. "My bag's in the trunk. We could always fly out tonight, oof!" He rubbed his side where her elbow had contacted it. "Don't push it, partner. I thought we were working." Turning her with a hand on her shoulder, he nodded. "It won't be easy, Scully. I know that. I just wanted to find a quiet, private space to reflect and recuperate." She shifted her feet and leaned against the door frame. "You're right, Mulder. We need more unpressured time to recover than two weeks of paperwork would give us." She sighed and looked up at him. "Thanks for making it for us." His eyes were deep pools of sorrow. "Thank me when we're finished, not before." As the kettle whistled, he released her with a pat on the back. --o-0-o-- END - PASSAGES IN MEMORY - RECOVERY