=====o=====================================================o===== "Xibalba" by Mary Ruth Keller E-mail: mrkeller@eclipse.net =====o=====================================================o===== Part IV - Frames of Reference (Disclaimed in Part I) -----o--------------------------------------------------o----- Dogberry: It pleases your worship to say so, but we are the poor duke's officers; but truly, for mine own part, if I were as tedious as a king, I could find in my heart to bestow it all of your worship. Leonato: All thy tediousness on me? Much Ado About Nothing -----o--------------------------------------------------o----- Maya Village Wednesday September 4, 1996 12.19.2.9.18 4:00 pm "Get out, now!" Skinner shouted, pushing the wooden door open. The contents of the cabinets had spilled out onto the floor, and they stumbled over them, trying to keep their feet as the ground jerked and heaved. After a minute or so, the shaking stopped. The main packet of seismic energy had passed through their region from the hypocenter 70 miles under the western mountains of Guatemala. Like Japan, the region lay close to the junction of three lithospheric plates, the North American, the Caribbean, and the Cocos. The view that greeted their eyes was in stark contrast to what they had seen just this morning. The jungle looked unchanged, but the village was in shambles. The roof of the church had caved in where the short bell tower fell on it. Many of the adobe houses were reduced to rubble, and Scully could hear moans and cries for help from them in Chol and Spanish. The clinic, however, was relatively intact, with only the contents of the cabinets damaged. It had been built of diagonally reinforced prefabricated panels, shipped in from Canada, flexible enough to withstand the shaking. Adobe was deadly construction material in earthquakes, but to people who had no money, building a home from sun-dried mud bricks was the best they could do. Since Mulder had a far-away look in his eyes that Scully needed not to see right then, she turned to Skinner. "Sir, we have to get some help to these people." The Assistant Director nodded. "We'll set the clinic back up again, get it in shape to handle patients. I had some basic medical experience in Vietnam, Scully. I think I can assist you with broken bones and the like." Skinner and Scully had synced several times when the three had been on cases in the field, but he had been careful not to strain her complex bond with Mulder. Garcia began shouting orders to his men. He wanted them together to hide back in the forest, since the disaster would bring humanitarian aid and outside attention to the village. He glanced back at the three agents, suspecting they would try to instigate a rescue expedition. Scully considered Garcia. They would need someone who could speak to the Maya for her, since Mulder knew but a little Spanish, and Skinner a few words in Vietnamese. She stalked over to him, placing her hands on her hips. "Where do you think *you* are going? Your people need your help!" Her eyes blazed as she blocked his path. "That's why I brought you here, Healer. I need to leave before the Red Cross comes and we are captured by the Mexican Government." When Garcia attempted to step around her, she moved in front of him. "We need you to stay. They need you to stay. I can't speak your language, and they can't understand English. This was a major quake and it will be hours, if not days, before help gets to a village this isolated." Garcia was furious. "Out of my way, woman!" He struck her, hard, with his arm, sending her slight body flying against the rough stones of the cistern. Garcia began to walk away, but was leveled by a blur of a man barreling at him. When his vision cleared, he saw it was Mulder who was sitting on his chest. The agent struck the Maya with his fist once, then winced. He leaned over, nose to nose with the guerrilla. "How can you call yourself a leader! These are your families here. Don't you know what it means to be responsible for someone else's life?" He shook the guerrilla by both shoulders. "You have to stay. No one else can do what you can do. We have to start digging people out, Now!" Garcia began to bluster back, then sagged, realizing the partners were right. "Okay, we'll stay. But just long enough to get the wounded out of the rubble and bury the dead. Then we'll have to go." Nodding, Mulder let Garcia up, not sure who had knocked the man down and yelled at him, Ux Balam or himself. He walked over to the well, where Skinner was helping Scully to her to her feet. "Scully?" He rested a hand on her shoulder. She nodded. "I'm fine, Mulder. Let's begin organizing the clinic. I suspect we'll be up another night or two before this is all over. --o-0-o-- Miami, Florida Wednesday, 2:30 pm Max Lowenberg opened the sliding glass door. "Caroline, dear, you'd better come and see this." Caroline looked up from the chaise lounge, wondering how two people could grow so close in so short a period of time. He squeezed her hand. "There's been an earthquake in Mexico. Aren't Fox and his partner down there?" She followed him into the sunny kitchen, where Max had CNN blaring from a small portable television as he cut up some fruit for a late lunch. The announcer was speaking with a map of the Yucatan hovering over his shoulder. "...The temblor's magnitude has been estimated initially at 7.3 on the modified Richter scale. The major damage was confined to relatively uninhabited areas of the forest, with only the major city of Tapachula, Mexico affected. We take you now to Guatemala City, the capital of Guatemala for an update..." She touched the mute button. "He was headed further up the same river we took, to a ruined city called Seibal, once he left the Embassy. That's just north of the affected area, I think. Poor Margaret, I should call her so she won't worry. Do you mind?" Knowing Caroline and Margaret Scully were close friends, he shook his head. --o-0-o-- Scully Residence Annapolis, MD 2:30 pm "Margaret Scully speaking. Oh, Caroline! Have you heard?" She was brushing the Pomeranian when she saw the news. "I hope Fox and Dana are all right. Are you home from the trip yet?" Caroline had slipped into Max's study to use the telephone in privacy. "I hope so too, Margaret. Yes, I'm back from Mexico, but not in Chilmark. I'm down in Miami, staying with a couple from Vienna Fox and I met on the cruise." That was technically true. She was spending the night at Benjamin and Miriam Jenkins' house, but most of the time, she was with Max. She had come to know this gentle soul, and believed he had been at Dachau with her family. Margaret smiled. "I'm happy for you. It sounds as if you've found a few new friends, Caroline." "There's so much I want to tell you. I never knew my son had such good manners. He was always such a solitary boy, especially after Sam was taken. And such places as we visited! The Maya ruins were fascinating. But mainly, Margaret, I wanted you to know this. I think I've met someone..." --o-0-o-- Office Building Manhattan Island Wednesday 4:30 pm The elegantly dressed white-haired man gestured to his assistant, who turned off the television, and refreshed his coffee. With the earthquake, his assassin could be dead, or would at least have a difficult time making it back to civilization. Potentially, this vexing problem with the D'Amato documents was eliminated for good. Now that Mulder and Scully were dead, court orders to open their safe deposit boxes could be bought, and the notebooks would disappear forever. Without the papers, the images on the Net could be discredited as a cyberspace forgery and the Consortium's power affirmed. --o-0-o-- Maya Village 11:45 pm "Here's another one!" Mulder called out, pulling a timber off a woman cradling two children. Garcia leaned in, speaking urgently in Chol. The woman was crying softly, pointing into the wreckage. They helped the three out, then resumed digging, knowing they had one more child to save. Scully looked up as the woman staggered through the clinic door. She was leading a small boy by the hand, who was crying loudly and bleeding from several cuts on his face and shoulder. But what concerned the pathologist the most was a little girl, pale and still, with one arm pointed off at an unnatural angle, clutched over her mother's shoulder. She immediately settled the woman against one wall, taking the girl over to the cot. Skinner bent over the two, soothing the boy who was more frightened than hurt, as he began cleaning the cuts. He wondered if the woman was injured, but not speaking until her children were treated. Scully felt the girl's forehead, finding no fever, just shock and this broken arm. Wrapping the girl in a blanket, she left the limb exposed, biting her lower lip at the whimpers as she set the arm, then wrapped the splints and arm in bandages. When the doctor was finished, one of the village women took the girl and held her on her lap while sitting on the stones. Scully nodded. The women had amazed her, bringing blankets and boiling water to wash wounds, almost before she asked. She wondered which herbs they were adding to the pots. The glass vials of antibiotics had all been destroyed in the earthquake, so she could only hope the ancient remedies would do the job instead. Mulder rushed in, carrying the third child. "He's not breathing." He laid the boy down and stepped back to let his partner begin resuscitating him. After a few attempts, the boy choked, gasped, and started wailing. His mother ran over, calling his name, so Scully stepped aside to let her care for him. Scully glanced up at Mulder. "No major injuries other than that; he'll be all right. How does it look out there?" Her partner shook his head, placing one hand on the small of her back, feeling gratified that she leaned gently into it. "We've only been through a few houses, but Garcia has been a real help. He's deployed his men to the surrounding villages to see how bad the damage is. You're the only doctor for miles, Scully. How are you holding up?" She rubbed her face. "I'm tired, but it's good to work on something other than dead bodies for once. We'll be all right for medical supplies for a while, as long as we don't get overrun." Having finished with the boy and the woman, their boss joined them. "I just wanted to tell you two. Before these four came in, I got through to Villa Hermosa on the Zapatista's radio in the church. There's been a major power blackout in the Yucatan, and they're on battery power only. I used the GPS to send our location, but the Embassy helicopters are busy." His agents separated and turned to face him, Mulder querying anxiously, "But, don't they understand the magnitude of the disaster?" Skinner sighed. "Mexico doesn't have the same infrastructure that we expect in the US, and everything that flies has been pressed into search and rescue. We'll be here for the duration. Which leaves us with our old problem." He stared meaningfully at Scully, who dropped her eyes to the floor. Mulder glanced from one to the other. The Assistant Director continued. "But I think I know how we can protect ourselves until we can get back to the States. If you will excuse me..." He pushed out the door past the partners. Mulder watched him head to the church, then turned to Scully. "What was that about?" She looked up at him. "Skinner was concerned the Shadows would use this as a opportunity to attempt to do something to us. But I wanted to check the tomb out, and I thought you would, too..." Just then, one of the guerrillas, speaking rapidly, ran up and pulled Mulder away. After checking behind her to be certain the clinic contained no immediate crises, Scully stepped out into the night. People were streaming in out of the forest, some limping, some carrying family members. The pathologist retreated from the sight. She was right, earlier, it was going to be a long time before she slept again. Mulder had done them all a big favor by letting her have those extra two hours. --o-0-o-- Maya Village Saturday, September 7, 1996 12.19.2.10.0 3:45 pm Dana Scully leaned against the doorway, staring at the shapes of three bodies lying under blankets in the side room. One was Evers, whose death bothered her not in the least. Her profession usually left her respect for the dead undiminished, since her autopsies were customarily performed on victims, rather than criminals. Two nights ago, however, she had watched, faintly amused, as Skinner, overwhelmed by the stench, shoved the now- rigid corpse into their last over-sized plastic bag. But two were little children, carried from a distant village to the clinic late the previous night. One had arrived barely breathing, to expire just as she was carried inside. The other was her brother, bleeding internally as she had back in March, when Dr. Anderson's medical skills had saved her own life. Scully had looked into the pale little face, knowing there was no hope, that she could not perform the extensive series of operations that would save him under these conditions. She had made the decision with her famous clinical detachment, then died inside slowly over the next few hours along with the boy. Now she could afford to grieve, since the patients were all either resting around the village, or on their way back to what was left of their homes. Mulder and the Zapatistas had finished searching here by Thursday at noon, so Garcia and his men vanished soon thereafter, melting into the jungle. He kept his word to Mulder, burying the two people from the village they had not reached in time. The pitiful arrivals from the other villages had petered out early this morning. The Assistant Director had called an associate in the States to line up several doctors, Vietnam vets like himself, to take over for her. Flying out late on Thursday in a private helicopter, he was returning this evening, with *protection*, he had promised mysteriously. Scully felt long fingers gently working on the knots in the cramped muscles of her shoulders. Her partner had shown a remarkable amount of self-control, putting up with more broken bones and blood than he liked to see when examining corpses in the field. Perhaps it was because he was helping these people not turn into cases for a coroner that he had proven so capable. He pressed against her back. "Scully?" She leaned into his hands. She ached all over, needing a hot bath and twenty four hours of blessed slumber before she could feel human again. She had made certain he caught naps whenever he could, knowing he was drained from encountering Ux Balam after thirty-six hours with essentially no sleep. She blew out a breath. "I know this sounds strange coming from a pathologist, but," she continued, her voice dropping, "I couldn't save them. Their parents carried them for miles, and there was nothing I could do for them once they were here." As she chewed her lower lip, a single tear slid down her cheek. He turned her around by his hold on her shoulders to face the interior of the main room and the plaza outside. "But you did save all these others." She looked at him, noticing first the lines in his face, and then, that the three days beard was back. "Not just the Great Dr. Dana Scully. All the women that weren't injured, and some who were, worked every bit as hard as I did." He shook his head. "No, they took breaks, you didn't. Now, you get to rest. I've set up a place for you to sleep in the church, private accommodations for one. This way, Mademoiselle." He offered her his arm, which she accepted with a courteous nod of her head. They walked carefully around the people sleeping on the floor of the clinic, among the shaded pallets in the plaza, and through the side door of the church. In the empty side room off the sanctuary, he had built up a pad of plantain leaves and maize husks, wrapping the materials in the tarp. By stuffing straw into a shirt, he had constructed a reasonable facsimile of a pillow, and draped the makeshift bed with the blanket Jose had given them. She settled on the rustling mattress. "Mulder, you were right, it is a four poster bed." They smiled at each other. She was asleep before he closed the door to cast the room in darkness. --o-0-o-- Saturday 6:21 pm She awoke to the touch of his hand on her shoulder and sound of her name, spoken as he knelt by her head. "Mulder, what is it? More patients?" The light filtering into the room behind him told her it was just before sundown. "No, it's Skinner and he's brought the media. They want to see the famous Dr. Scully working in the jungle in a makeshift hospital for the Mexican earthquake victims." She groaned and rolled over. "Anything but that. Haven't we had enough exposure for one year?" He sat next to her. "Well, it was your idea originally. Once we're on CNN, any attempts on our life would turn the spotlight onto the Shadows. We'll be safe until we reach the States. And he's brought more doctors so we can get out of here and go home." She sat up, then, bringing her head up next to his. "They'll need to know whom to treat first. Some of these people need a real hospital to keep from being crippled the rest of their lives. Ooh!" The various parts of her body that needed more rest protested her sudden movement, but she pushed herself up and walked out the door, Mulder behind her. The village had been transformed again. She never realized how much equipment satellite news feeds required. She could pick out, among others, CNN, CBS, NBC, and BBC reporters, all with cameramen, lights, and racks of equipment waiting to be set up in the plaza. Microphone and power cables trailed in the soil. Skinner's protection for them was the Modern Media Circus. --o-0-o-- Miami, Florida Saturday, 3:21 pm Max had moved the TV out onto the deck, so Caroline and he could keep up with the news. Margaret called down regularly, now that she knew where Caroline was, updating her and trying to pry more details out of her friend about Max. The latest report was blaring from the set. "This is Christiane Amanpour, coming to you from a village in the Guatemalan rain forest, where the survivors of the recent Tapachula earthquake have a special doctor to thank for their good fortune." Visible behind the reporter were the pallets in the plaza. Caroline slid to the edge of her chair. "Special Agent Dana Scully is a pathologist with the FBI, here consulting with the CIA on the disappearance of two scholars in the Yucatan. When the earthquake hit, she was the only doctor these people could reach for help. Dr. Scully, you and your partner, Agent Mulder weren't supposed to be here at all, were you?" The camera turned to the agents. Caroline noticed how exhausted they both looked. But, her son's partner was resolute. "Yes, we were kidnaped by a group of Zapatistas operating out of this village when we were on the ruins of Seibal to the northeast..." Scully recounted their trek through the jungle, leaving out the supernatural aspects of the past few days. She and her partner answered several questions before a commercial break began. After the live feed returned, the reporter interviewed, through an interpreter, several of the Maya. When the special report concluded, Max muted the television, and turned to her. "Caroline, now that they are safe, I'd like to ask you a favor." She looked over. "Would you stay here through Yom Kippur? The Temple services are so wonderful, and something tells me you haven't celebrated Rosh Hashannah for years. I know Miriam won't mind." She knotted her hands. She had so hoped he would ask, but now she wasn't sure. "Max, thank you. Let me think about it. I've had a lovely time here with you and the Jenkins." "But you want to go to your own home after all this travel?" She considered the big silent house in Chilmark, with the shrinking days and cold winds. But she was, technically, a widow for less than a year. "Caroline?" She saw Max was waiting for an answer. "No, it's not that, Chilmark isn't home, not really. Give me until Rosh Hashannah, then I'll decide. My tickets are for the fifteenth anyway. I'll just delay them for two weeks if I change my mind." They held hands. --o-0-o-- Office Building Manhattan Island Saturday 5:15 pm The elegant man had witnessed the same broadcast as Max and Caroline. Mulder and Scully had obviously survived the attempts on their lives, and with all this media attention, the Consortium could not act, not immediately. But other pressures could be brought to bear. The death of a loved one, perhaps? Dana Scully had a mother and two brothers. Lose one, and she still had a family, but Mulder only had his mother. They had recently taken a vacation together just before this case. Strike at her now, and he would be lost. His chain-smoking associate in Washington was subtly shielding Mulder and, recalling the man's life, he thought he knew why. He asked his associate to dial Washington. When he heard the call connect, he spoke without the initial pleasantries. "It seems your suggestion to leave them alone was correct. They do have a knack for staying alive. Well, if not them, then someone close to them. We have to get those notebooks back for the sake of continued stability. I want you to eliminate Mulder's Mother." He heard the sharp intake of breath. "And I want you to handle it personally. There will be no slip-ups this time, correct?" The voice that answered was strained through clenched teeth. "It will be taken care of." "Personally?" There was a pause. "Personally." The call was disconnected. --o-0-o-- Washington, DC 5:30 pm Taking another puff of the Morley, the old spy stared at the chair in front of his desk Caroline had occupied. He couldn't do this. But how? He knew his superior expected him to stand over Caroline Podhowitz and put a bullet in her brain. He was afraid he might lose his nerve if he had to look at her again, and remember her promise. An explosion. Yes, blow up the house at Chilmark and incinerate her remains in the maelstrom, so he would never have to see her again, dead or alive. He would have his agents lay the charges, but he would detonate the explosion himself, fulfilling his promise to his superior in New York. And for good measure, he would level the West Tisbury home of Bill Mulder that neither of them had had the heart to sell. Then perhaps Mulder and Scully would understand what they had done, and could be persuaded to turn over the notebooks, rather than risk further loss of life. Caroline was in Miami now, but would fly north in a few days. The computer hackers in his organization could access any system in the country, and he knew she had tickets home next Sunday. His operatives could lay the charges without risk of detection. Her death would follow the return of the agents to the States, but not so late that the son would have sufficiently recovered from his ordeal. Let Mulder suffer, as he had, for years. --o-0-o-- Maya Village Saturday 10:30 pm Fox Mulder could tell his partner was past the point of exhaustion. She was moving mechanically from the clinic to the pallets in the square, reminding the doctors Skinner had flown in what care each patient needed. The six friends of his from Vietnam were rested and healthy. Finally, he stood in the clinic door on one foray inside, blocking her exit by holding on to the doorframe. "Scully, whatever it is, they have it. You've told them three times about the boy with two femurs ruined by rickets. Skinner knows what's wrong with most of these people, you've said it so often." He smiled, hoping she would stop. But she marched straight up to him to glare in his downturned face. "Agent Mulder, out of my way. We'll be leaving soon, and some of these children need tetanus shots." He took hold of both of her wrists. "No. We won't leave until it's light, so you get to rest now. You've had six hours sleep over the past three days and even I couldn't function on that. Let the other doctors do some of the work. Okay?" Somehow the logic of his words reached her. She surrendered to her fatigue. "Okay, I'll get some more use out of that four-poster bed. What about you?" He leaned into her face. "Well, that mattress is big enough for two very friendly people, if you're asking." She gave him the Look. "No? You wound me, partner." They grinned at each other. He pressed his arm against her back at the waist, walking her across to the church. When he opened the door, she saw that a cot with a sleeping bag was set up on the other side of the small space, as well as their two bags from Seibal. His breath, warm and moist, passed over her ear before he spoke. "I'll be right here, should you get lonely, otherwise, Good Night, Scully." They dropped into their respective beds, Mulder hoping that his sleep would be untroubled by dreams of Ballgames, Cosmic Monsters, and twins in Canoes. Scully hoped nothing at all, since she was asleep almost as soon as she lay down. --o-0-o-- Ux Balam hovered over the agents, realizing how completely they had proven their mettle to him. Truly there were nobles among the whites, like himself, who understood the meaning of leadership, as the One of his Blood did not. For each sacrifice, a sacrifice, then. He knew what he had to do. --o-0-o-- Xibalba No place No time Ux Balam hovered, unnoticed, by the end of the Ballcourt. "Great Lords!" The ball bounced out of play, unheeded by the participants. Itzam-Yeh turned his huge feathered head towards the voice. The gods with heads of alligators, the skeletal Lords of Death, and Itzam-Balam, the man with the head, paws, and tail of a jaguar, all turned. Itzam-Yeh, the sky god of the Maya, resplendent in scarlet plumage more iridescent than any earthly macaw's, challenged Ux Balam. "Who comes here?" He rotated on his birds' feet, looking down at the shade of Ux Balam, standing alone and defiant. "You? You were returned to the Middleworld. Why are you here in Xibalba?" "I have come to offer a sacrifice, Great Lords. There are two who do not belong here, who were taken unawares." The gods of the Maya roared in laughter, a spectral sound that shattered the blackness. Itzam-Yeh bobbed with delight. "All but a few come here unawares, oh King. Why are these special?" Ux Balam pointed to the pale-skins, taking a rest beside him on the Court's edge. The Lords laughed before he could speak. Itzam-Yeh ruffled his magnificent feathers. "Them? They knew of our myths, and you have taught them well. Their souls are safe, so go back." Ux Balam stood his ground. "They should not be dead. It was an accident that they opened the way to Xibalba. Let them go." Itzam-Yeh stamped his feet, irritated by the king's persistence. "Who are you, little King, that we should just let them go? Who can you offer to play with us?" Ux Balam grew intense. "Myself, Lords of Xibalba. I will come back to the Ballcourt and play to the end of Time with you, if you let them go." Itzam-Yeh flew over the court, landing in front of Ux Balam's shade to fix one glittering eye on him. "Very well, let it be so. You were always more innovative in your Game than the others." Ux Balam bent to speak to the archaeologists, before he disappeared from the edge of the square and reappeared on the Ballcourt. The scholars vanished. The people of Seibal shouted for their champion as he waved to Yax-Zok. He looked to K'awil and Jose, calling him by his Maya name, Hunahpu. They would give the Lords of Death great sport indeed. --o-0-o-- On Wednesday, September 11, 1996, Dr. Robert Harris and Dr. Steven Waters walked in the front door of the American Embassy in Villa Hermosa. Oblivious to the uproar their appearance caused, they asked first after their students and then about their artifacts. --o-0-o-- Maya Village Sunday, September 8, 1996 12.19.2.10.1 7:15 am Richard Matheson's feet crunched on the rocky soil of the plaza as he walked beside Walter Skinner to the side door of the church. "Walt, you should have called me first, not let me see this on CNN." The Assistant Director was immensely proud. Over the past few months, he had worked to smooth over whatever difficulties had forced the Senator to distance himself from the X-Files. Now, the grey-haired Democrat was staunchly in their camp again. Skinner nodded. "Rich, I didn't know how big this was, otherwise I would have." He pulled the narrow wooden door open, illuminating the interior of the windowless room. Mulder, on his back, jerked upright when the light hit him. In the night, he had been awakened by animal sounds, and found Scully's Sig in her bag. Now, he blinked, reaching for it and aiming at the door. Skinner pushed Senator Matheson out of the line of fire. "Agent Mulder!" Mulder pursed his lips in embarrassment as he lowered the Sig. He slid off the cot to bend over Scully, who was stirring on her side, facing away from him. "Scully, get up, Dad's here, and we have to get ready for school." She turned over, seeing first his face, then Skinner and Matheson in the doorway. "Sir? Senator?" She ran her fingers through her hair as she sat up, trying to look as presentable as possible, then sighing at the futility of her actions. The Senator stepped into the small room. "Agent Mulder, Agent Scully, if you will come with me, you two have an appointment with the President of Mexico." The partners glanced at each other. "What?" Mulder looked to Skinner, who was still outside, for confirmation. The Assistant Director inclined his head once. "That's right, people. Apparently all this," he explained, waving his hands at the cameras behind him, "won't protect you for long. But the Senator's idea just might. So?" The Senator stepped back outside to wait by their boss. Scully reached for her bag, finding it open, the contents ransacked. Mulder crouched beside his partner. "I found your gun. I heard animals outside." He held it out for her. "Thanks." She took it, removed the clip, and tucked both in the bag, hurriedly packing the clothes back around the computer. As they walked out, she slung the strap over her shoulder and grabbed the blanket, trailing it along behind her. Mulder chuckled and leaned over to whisper in her ear, "You won't get that past the teacher, Linus." Senator Matheson's helicopter sat in a clearing beyond the village. As they boarded, Scully flipped the blanket over her shoulder and poked her partner's ribs. "Did too, Lucy." While the rotors spun up, the Senator leaned back from the front seat to yell something in Mulder's ear. Scully prodded her partner as he sat back. "What?" He pulled her head close to his. "We should be in Mexico City by the afternoon, after stopping at the embassy in Villa Hermosa. Matheson wants us to look good for the cameras when we get our medals." She put her face next to his ear, cupping her hand to speak and be heard over the whine of the rotors. "What medals?" "Their equivalent of our medal of Honor. The Shadows have two governments to worry about now, not just one. And think how it'll look on your resume, Scully." They settled back for the trip. --o-0-o-- Miami, Florida Sunday 2:30 pm Caroline grabbed the phone on the first ring. "We're watching, Margaret." CNN was carrying the ceremony live, with the translation of the President of Mexico's speech appearing at the bottom of the screen. Once finished, he draped a medal over the bald head of Walter Skinner, the now clean hair of Dana Scully, and the shaved face of Fox Mulder. Both of partners looked uncomfortable at all the formality and trappings, but Skinner took it in stride, having been decorated in Vietnam. Caroline spoke into the receiver. "They look so drawn, Margaret. The past week must have been terrible." --o-0-o-- Somewhere over the Gulf of Mexico Sunday 8:30 pm Richard Matheson leaned over Mulder's shoulder. "Walt wants to get back to DC immediately. Where should I drop you two?" Mulder turned away from the window and glanced up at the Senator. He frowned momentarily, then looked over at his partner, who was sitting by herself in the front of the legislator's private jet, before he responded, "Let me speak with Scully, Sir." He walked over to her, worried. When they boarded the plane, she had moved to a different part of the cabin from the three men, claiming a lack of sleep. He touched her shoulder. "Hey, pretty lady, this seat taken?" She looked up at him, smiling briefly. "My mother warned me never to talk to strange men on airplanes." Grinning, Mulder slid into the seat beside Scully, bumping shoulders as he leaned over to study her eyes. "Matheson wants to know where we would like to go, once we reach the States. Any thoughts, partner?" She sighed, looking back out the window, then as she turned to face him, the overhead light caught two vertical tracks, one down each cheek. "I don't understand how these medals will help us." The baffled agents had discussed this new turn of events after they quickly showered and changed at the Embassy. "Could you get anything out of Director Skinner or the Senator?" He shrugged. "No, only significant stares." She glanced at her lap. "Oh. We should warn our Mothers. This isn't over yet, and if we were chased all the way into the Chiapas Highlands, close family members may be next." "I know. I'm planning on asking the Gunmen to sweep our apartments for wiretaps or bombs as soon as we land. So, Annapolis?" She nodded. "Yes, we don't know exactly where your Mother is in Miami, but I'll bet my Mom's been burning up the phone lines with her ever since she set foot in the Sunshine State." "With your luck, Scully, Miriam has joined in, and they're arranging for double nuptials with all the trimmings." She chuckled at the thought. He leaned over and whispered in her ear as he started to rise from the seat. "Of course, Dad back there could keep his retirement fund if we just eloped." She laughed out loud, wondering how he could lift her spirits so quickly, and glanced back at a puzzled Walter Skinner. He paused, then touched her arm. "Oh, and that other thing that's bothering you, but you don't want to talk about yet. I'm here for you, Scully, no matter what. Okay?" She nodded, covering his hand with hers. --o-0-o-- Observing the interaction between the agents, the Senator turned to Skinner. "They always this close?" The Director nodded, ignoring the past fall, when he was concerned he would have to separate the partners before they shot each other. "Yes. It has made it tough working in the field with them the past few months." "You've been in the field?" Skinner replied through gritted teeth. "Strings, Rich. They were given the X-files back, and I was given strings that could be yanked." The Senator studied the indentations in the left armrest from Skinner's grip. "I think I can help you with that problem, too, Walt." --o-0-o-- Office Building Manhattan Island Sunday 7:30 pm "I've seen enough." The long hand waved at the television. "If you would be so kind." His assistant touched a button, and the now dark screen vanished behind a descending marquetry panel. He knew his superior disliked electronics, despite their necessity. His compromise with the Modern Age involved camouflaging the state of the art surveillance and communications equipment behind raised wooden panels, stained glass, and Old Masters. When the elegant head inclined towards the door, once, the younger man left. The white-haired man steepled his fingers. The media circus would have been a passing distraction, and he could have resumed his pursuit of the D'Amato notebooks in a matter of weeks. But, while the cameras focused on the President and the three FBI agents, he saw the faces of the nameless men in grey suits behind the glitz and glitter. Power among the shadows was not distributed as it was in the visible governments, where Mexico was seen as the weakest of the NAFTA triad. There were secrets in Mexico that needed to remain concealed, but if the agents were killed now, elements of the shadow government in Mexico would be required by the visible one to assume the causes pursued by Mulder and Scully. The Consortium's southern counterpart would not hesitate to use such a moment of weakness to enhance its own standing. This brought him back to the assignment he had given his associate in Washington. Would the test he had devised affect this matter in any way? If the Smoker lost his nerve and failed in his mission, then he could remove his senior agent from any significant position for having exhibited weakness and irresolution. If the old spy succeeded, then he would leave the comforts of these tasteful walls, and use his personal contacts with Agent Scully to point the finger of blame back to his chain-smoking operative. Agent Mulder would act as his Mother's Avenging Angel, ridding him and the Consortium of both troublesome men. --o-0-o-- Annapolis, MD Monday, September 9, 1996 12.19.2.10.2 11:45 am Margaret Scully was changing the sheets on Dana's bed to the flannel ones she had purchased at Potomac Mills and adding an extra blanket. She wanted to be ready just in case her daughter stopped by during the autumn before Thanksgiving. She hurried down the stairs, hearing muffled barks, and when she entered the main floor hallway, his little claws scratching the wood panels. She entered the living room, finally getting a clear view out the window in the door. It was her daughter, and she was with her partner. She hugged Dana, then Fox. Mulder flinched, as he usually did, not expecting her to hold him so tightly. They were both thinner than they should be, but he looked happy. Scully picked up the Pomeranian, holding him up over her head, then cuddling him. "Was Mister Red Wiggles a good boy?" The little dog's tail was shaking most of his rear half. Margaret laughed, looking to Mulder. He grinned back, glad to have escaped from matchmakers and guerrillas to this island of calm. Margaret Scully felt for him. Scully scratched the dog's ears and chin thoroughly before putting him back down on the rug, where he spun in circles of delight. Mulder touched Margaret's elbow. "Mrs. Scully, do you know where my Mom is?" She faced him. Having learned that about him during Dana's abduction and recovery, she decided not to elaborate her response. "She's in Miami, with Max Lowenberg, and a Benjamin and Miriam Jenkins. Didn't she leave you a message?" Mulder shook his head. "We haven't been to our apartments yet. We wanted to warn both of you that the situation with the D'Amato papers seems to be heating up again. Have you seen anything strange around the house or neighborhood in the past week or so?" Margaret considered. "No, Fox, I haven't. No black cars, or people skulking around the house. Mr. Wiggles makes a good watchdog, and he would have let me know if anyone was here." She turned to her daughter. "He barks furiously every time the mailman stops by. And the furnace repairman practically ran out of the house in terror. He was trying to bite his ankle." The partners exchanged a glance before Scully queried. "Did you say furnace, Mom?" "Yes, dear, but I always get the unit checked out before the temperatures turn colder. You know that." Mulder stepped closer to his partner's mother. "Mrs. Scully, did you know the man by sight?" She was horrified at what they were implying. "No, he said John was laid up and he was taking his shift. But you don't think they'd put a bomb...?" The agents raced to the stairs. "Dana! Fox!" Margaret called after them, then headed for the basement door herself. --o-0-o-- Scully was crawling around behind the furnace when Margaret arrived. Mulder was looking up in the overhead beams, checking for recent marks or holes. The Pomeranian bounced down the stairs as fast as he could, immediately joining Scully, scratching and snuffling. He loved it when people did dog stuff. Margaret leaned on the doorframe. "It's okay, you two." Her daughter poked her head out, and her partner looked over at the two Scully women. Margaret waved her hand helplessly. "I tried to tell you upstairs, but you ran off. The man never got down here. Sweetie there chased him around the living room and he left." Mulder regarded the dog with a little respect and some surprise. "Well, score one for the Red Menace." He crossed the room, offering Scully a hand up. "Be careful, Mrs. Scully. Don't let anyone in unless you know them, and know them well enough to be able to tell if they're not quite themselves." Margaret took a step back, shocked. "You two aren't planning on disappearing anytime soon, are you?" Scully met her mother's eyes. "Not if we can avoid it." She glanced up at her partner. "Except for the airplane flight home, we've both been on our feet, literally, for almost a week, now. But we wanted to make sure you and Caroline Mulder were okay." Mulder put his hands on his hips. "And stay that way, Mrs. Scully. Do you know how I can reach my Mom?" Margaret read the worry in his darkening face and hunched pose. "Yes, I do. Come upstairs, I have Max's number in my address book." The Pomeranian continued snuffling. He barked once, then looked up as the people were headed back upstairs. He pounded after them, not wanting to miss anything else important. There were few people barks he understood, but the magic call to 'lunch' had just been sounded by the older woman. --o-0-o-- Margaret and Dana Scully were making sandwiches at the counter while Mulder talked on the kitchen wall phone, pacing in the hallway, stretching the cord to its maximum extension. "Yeah, Mom, we're okay. Really, we are, just tired." A pause. "Mom, don't panic. Just keep a watch out. If you see anyone strange hanging around, wherever you are, just leave. " Another pause. "Yes, Mom, even in the middle of lunch, just leave the money and go." He leaned against the door, his shoulders sagging. "Oh, and Mom?" He waited. "Don't go home yet. Let us check the house out for explosives and wiretaps. And when you do, change your airline tickets, use a different carrier, something. Please, Mom, I'll pay. Yes, yes, love you too. Bye." As he crossed the room to hang up the phone, Margaret took him by the arm. "Sit down, Fox, have something before you leave. Dana tells me you walked through the jungle for two days and a night, then didn't really eat again until late Saturday." He was grateful for her concern, wolfing down three bologna sandwiches before Margaret Scully's phone rang again. His partner answered. "Scully. Frohike? It's clean? Mulder's too?" She swallowed the bite of tofu burger she was chewing. "No, I will not give you back rubs for the next thirty years to show my gratitude!" She rolled her eyes at her partner, who snorted. "No, not even one. Frohike! Never! I'm at my Mother's! No! Goodbye!" Margaret began laughing at her daughter's expression of utter frustration, then turned to Mulder, who was slowly drinking a glass of root beer. "He's the one?" Mulder nodded, looking back at his partner, and raising an eyebrow. She dipped her head once in response. "They're both clean. No hidden cameras, no wiretaps, no bombs. We can go home. How is your Mom?" Mulder shrugged. "She's okay. She's with Max almost constantly, so I warned him to keep an eye out as well. Anyone who survived a concentration camp can probably take good care of my mother." Margaret refilled Mulder's glass. "I should say so, Fox." She looked from one to the other. "Do you both have to go back now? Stay here tonight. You look like you could use the rest." The partners exchanged a glance, then nodded their agreement. Scully looked up at her mother. "Okay, Mom, but just for tonight. I'd like a hot bath. Getting drenched twice and a quick shower at the Embassy just isn't the same." Mulder concurred with Scully, but then, she never had trouble convincing him to stay at her Mother's. --o-0-o-- Washington, DC Tuesday, September 10, 1996 12.19.2.10.3 5:45 pm "Yes?" A cigarette burned in the ashtray while the old man answered the phone. "The explosives are in place? Just as instructed?" The leather chair squeaked as he turned to face the window. "Very well. Send me word when the target is in the air." He placed the receiver in its cradle. He wanted to weep, but after so much time, tears were no longer a response his body knew. Caroline Podhowitz, the woman who had joked with him over lunch all those years ago, was the target. Her only crime was agreeing to marry a man she didn't love for the security it provided a stranded, familyless refugee. Now the cold, lonely house in Massachusetts would be her place of execution. The sudden horror of his plan struck him. He stood, looking out over the city, remembering her words: You are a monster! --o-0-o-- Miami International Airport Miami, Florida Sunday, September 15, 1996 12.19.2.10.8 9:30 am "Max, are you sure about this?" Caroline Mulder stood at the gate, ready to board, holding Max Lowenberg's hand. The white-haired man chewed his moustache. "Yes, dear, I am. Your son, the FBI agent, suggested we do all the things they will expect." As Caroline began to protest, he stopped her by covering her mouth with one finger. "But this is Max Lowenberg, not Maxwell Smart, talking. Sometimes the best place to hide is in plain sight. Do you trust me?" When she nodded, he smiled at her. "Then let's go. I've always wanted to see New England in the autumn." --o-0-o-- Washington, DC Sunday 10:15 am The phone rang once. The old man answered, lighting another cigarette. He nodded as the caller spoke, then responded. "She is on the flight? Then I am on my way." --o-0-o-- Chilmark, Massachusetts Sunday 4:37 pm He looked down from the ridge through binoculars. He had pulled all his agents away from the house, sending them back to the hotel. He was to take care of this personally, so he would have these last moments to himself. He heard her Plymouth approach along the grey driveway, watched her get out, and enter with her guest through the front door. He waited until he saw movement upstairs in the bedroom, then reached in through the open rear window to retrieve the detonator. He closed his eyes, taking his time for his farewells, then he pressed the button, watching everything as if it were in slow motion. First, nothing, then little puffs of smoke out of a few windows. A few cracks and pops were audible, and finally, the inferno began. He knew a similar firestorm was raging in West Tisbury as he punched in a Manhattan phone number. "It is done." He realized the leaping flames were purifying him of the last of his soul. --o-0-o-- Apartment 42 Arlington, VA Sunday 10:30 pm "That was different, Scully. I'm not used to seeing Kenneth Branagh play a villain, and do so well at it." The final credits to "Othello" were rolling up the screen as Mulder pointed the remote with his right hand, stopped the tape, and set it rewinding. He was slumped on his futon, long legs propped up on the coffee table, his left arm stretched along the back. At the film's start, Scully had settled in by his side, balancing a large bowl of popcorn on their joined laps. During one of the many battle scenes added in the film to the play, her partner, a purist when it came to the Bard, muttering about knee-crooking knaves and cuckolds, had decided on a little audience participation. White particles flew, first at the screen, then at the fishtank, then at herself. She reciprocated in kind, until she saw the mess, and he had to keep her from cleaning. ("I have a service, Scully." "Mulder!" "The pan-dimensional beings are hungry?" "Mulder!!!") She had flopped on the futon, feigning disgust while tucking her feet up on her left. Delighted to have tweaked her, he had plopped down, just as hard, sliding until he was flush against her right side. ("You stopped the video, Scully!" "You weren't paying attention, anyway." "We might as well finish watching it.") Contented, the pair remained in place, drawing strength from each other. On Tuesday, Skinner had put them on administrative leave for the rest of the week, telling them to go home and consider the events of the last case. Scully had been very quiet during the meeting and afterwards as they packed to depart. She had asked him to come to her apartment for the dinner, then they had spent most of the time together, talking and recovering from the ordeal. But she never said what was bothering her, even though she would eventually, Mulder knew. So they were finally here, on Sunday night, watching Laurence Fishburne play the Moor of Venice. The record amount of snow that had fallen the past winter had kept Scully from seeing the film during its limited run. Still leaning against his side, she turned to face him. "He was breaking up with Emma Thompson during the filming, and I'm sure that helped. But, he is an *actor*, you know, *master* *thespian*, and all that." "Speaking of Emma, I never told you how glad I am you dragged me to 'Sense and Sensibility'. I never could get into Austen at Oxford." They had seen the film during their recovery from the beating by D'Amato's men. She would never forget silently finding each other's hands during Elinor's scene at the bedside of her deathly ill sister, Marianne. The potential loss they were witnessing on the screen had resonated with a grief each had felt too deeply. Mulder's cel phone jangled, so she sat up straight to let him answer it. He spoke quietly for a few minutes and terminated the call. "That was the Chilmark police. There's been an explosion." She rested her hand on his arm. He stood up to begin pacing, then dialed Max's phone. When the answering machine picked up, he ended the call, and dialed Margaret Scully. "Hi, Mrs. Scully? This is Mulder. Do you have the phone number of the Jenkins'?" He paused. "No, I think everything's okay. Thanks. No, Scully's fine. Bye." He glanced over at her, then punched in the new number. "Miriam, this is Mulder. Yes, Fox Mulder, good to speak with you, too. Let me speak to Benjamin, please." Another pause. "Benjamin, hi. I can't get an answer at Max's, so would you..." He froze. "They what? When? Yeah, thanks." The phone clattered to the floor as he sank back onto the futon. Scully touched his wrist. "Mulder, what's wrong?" He was shaking, covering his face with both hands. Scully reached down to retrieve the phone and end the call, pushed the coffee table aside, and knelt in front of him. She pulled his hands away, seeing wide dark eyes full of horror and pain. "She and Max flew back to Chilmark this morning, Scully. They must have been in the house when it exploded." He burst off the sofa, grief and rage combining in a volatile mix. "Why? I told her not to! I thought Max could take care of her." He punched the wall by the fishtank. "I should have been there..." When the phone rang again, Scully took the call, since her partner was in no shape to handle anything else. "Scully. No, he can't come to the phone right now." Relieved to have someone here tonight, he watched her speaking. "I'll tell him. Thank you." A strained voice emanated from the face contorted by the storm about to break from within. "Who is it?" She composed her thoughts before answering, then met his hooded eyes. "That was the police in West Tisbury." She didn't have to tell him. Mulder knew already, that all of his childhood, and all physical evidence that a Samantha Mulder ever existed was gone. She stood up, mentally preparing for the tempest that would follow. For the next hour, his rage owned him, punching doors, shouting, blaming himself as he always did. Drained, he collapsed in his front room, where she held him through great choking sobs that racked his lean frame. At last, emptied, he raised his head to look at her. "Why, Scully, why?" She pushed the loose hair off his forehead. "I think we both know why, Mulder." He nodded, understanding dawning slowly. "But nothing has ever come of the postings. Nearly all the people in them are dead, and I'm sure the physical evidence had long since disappeared." She shook her head. "It's simpler than that. We beat them. We took on the Consortium with all its power, connections, and influence, stole something they wanted, and then threw it in their faces." He sat up, considering. "Yes. They attempted to get us out of the way in Mexico so they could remove the papers and discredit the evidence to protect their prestige, not because they were useful. What have we done?" "I don't know. We were only trying to stay alive at the time, just like we were last week." He took her by both shoulders, his eyes blazing with determination. "But we can't let them win, regardless. With my Mom gone, all they can do is come after me. Scully, promise me that you won't let them have the papers, no matter what." She looked at him. "Mulder, I..." He shook her gently. "No matter what, Scully!" She acquiesced, placing one hand on his arm. "No matter what, Mulder." --o-0-o-- J. Edgar Hoover Building Monday October 28, 1996 12.19.2.12.11 8:30 am Dana Scully placed her briefcase on her desk, then pulled out her chair and sat behind it. Saturday she received a registered mail notice in her box, but since she had been in Annapolis until late Sunday night, she hadn't seen it. Now she was staring at the airmail letter she had exchanged for a pink slip at the Merrifield Post Office this morning. The blue envelope bore no return address, but showed no tell-tale signs of tampering or explosives. Curious, she slit one end, then peeked in. She removed the sheets and began to read. --o-0-o-- J. Edgar Hoover Building Monday 9:30 am Mulder pulled into the underground parking lot, hoping to find a space this late. He was in luck, nabbing one on the ground level, close to the exit. Entering the stairwell, he reminisced. Since his mother's death, X had met with him, telling his briefly that he was out of danger for the present, but not to make waves. Skinner stopped going on cases with them, having been placed on a governmental oversight task force by Senator Matheson. As he thought, he continued moving mechanically to their basement office, not aware of waiting for the elevator, or the ride down. He had not brooded over his mother's death, and now he found himself wondering why. When his sister had been taken, no one had been there to help him grieve, his parents so stricken by Samantha's loss they had turned on each other. The family broke in two, pulling the boy between them. When his father died in his arms, Scully had been there until Melissa's death, then she too had retreated behind a wall of pain. The fight forced on them in February had shattered that barrier, when they had stood together against an old adversary for the first time in many months. Now, it seemed she was always there for him, a gentle touch on his shoulder at work, a calm friend at dinner, a soothing voice on the phone in the darkness. The times when the pain had been too deep, she had been there as well, holding him while he wept, just as she had that horrible Sunday when it happened. Oftentimes, he would lift his head from her arm to glimpse tears glistening in her eyes as well, reminding him that he was not the only one who had suffered irreparable losses. He had tried to be there for her, too, as he had promised. Between his dark periods when she was his strength, he would notice her grieving, and he was convinced it had to be for her lost sister. Then, he would wait for her, to try to draw her out, but she would only respond with her usual 'I'm okay.' At work, or on a case in the field, they were functioning smoothly again, thinking alike and finishing each other's sentences, just as before the trip to Mexico. But her lovely quirky sense of humor, that dry sarcasm he baited her to hear, was gone. She didn't even pause when he would come up with extra-normal explanations for their X-files. That concerned him. While he had helped her recover from her second surgery, they had worked through several open X-Files, at her insistence. It had been one of the best times of their partnership. True, he was gathering evidence alone, but they had spent long evenings taking his suggestions and stringing the clues that would support his ideas together. Towards the end of her recuperation, she had been throwing out theories that he had to admit, were often better than his. Now, that was all gone. He knew he wasn't always right and needed her to punch holes in his conjectures. Even the insane supposition that Elvis was living in the Northwest woods with the Sasquatch, preparing for his Big Comeback, drew no response. No Looks, no 'Mulder!', no hands on the hips, 'Mulder-you-can't-be-serious...', nothing, just a quiet nod of the head. Whatever was bothering her was taking a long time to work through, but unlike last year, he was prepared to give her all the time she needed. He walked down the hall to their shared office, thinking of the flyer he had received in the mail on Saturday when they were visiting her mother's. Perhaps this evening he could repay in kind the pleasant time they had spent together on his birthday, with a quiet dinner and a lecture on a topic with which they were both familiar. --o-0-o-- Scully looked up when he entered, relieved that he was finally in. The contents of the letter had given her the push she needed to make a decision. She re-folded several blue sheets of paper, stuffing them inside the airmail envelope and smiling at the quizzical expression he shot her. He stood before her desk. "Scully, care for some education tonight?" She looked surprised and slightly hurt. "Work here is a continuing education, Mulder." He held the flier in front of her face, watched the light drain from her eyes, and cringed inwardly. But he forced some levity into his tone. "Look familiar?" Under a photograph of the death mask of Ux Balam was the announcement of a joint lecture by Drs. Harris and Waters at the Dumbarton Oaks. Emblazoned in large type was the title, 'First results from the Tomb of Ux Balam at Seibal' followed by a short abstract. He placed the page squarely in the center of her desk. "They mailed it to me, adding a note asking us both to come." She arched an eyebrow. "How did they know about us? We only found out they were back because Maria called from the Embassy." He shrugged. "She told them? I don't know." He put his case down by his desk, and walked to the coat stand, smiling at the NICAP hat hanging there. She pushed her desk chair back and rose. "Oh, don't take your coat off. We need to go talk, away from here." Relieved, he closed his eyes before he responded. He nodded as she crossed the room to get her own wraps. Almost unconsciously, he helped her put the long grey trenchcoat on over her equally dark wool jacket and slacks, then looked down at himself. --o-0-o-- Jefferson Memorial Monday 10:00 am They were headed to their usual spot looking out over the Tidal Basin. The oaks and maples were in their full autumn glory, all red, orange, and gold. October was the most pleasant month of the year in the Washington area, dry with warm days and cool nights, this year being no exception. Once they were settled, Scully silently handed him the envelope, he extracted the papers, and began to read. Dana, 9/20/96 I couldn't go any longer without letting you know. Max and I didn't die in the explosion in Chilmark. We left through the basement door just before the blast, hiding in the woods, and leaving Massachusetts for good. I hope Fox hasn't suffered too much. Tell him for me, and give him my love. I'll try to write as often as I can. Take care, both of you. Caroline Lowenberg The rest of the pages were blank, padding to shield against scanning. He looked at her hand resting on his coat sleeve. She rubbed the wool gently. "I'm glad for you, Mulder. Maybe she will feel safe enough to come home one day." He studied her carefully neutral expression. "Thanks, Scully." He returned the letter to her, then thought of the packet his Mother sent to his partner in the hospital. "We should destroy this." She removed the blank sheets, holding the letter and envelope out to him. Together, they tore the papers into smaller and smaller pieces, dumping portions in several drains and trash cans around the Memorial. He could tell she was restless as they walked back to the car, and her discomfort spurred him to speak. "Scully, enough is enough. *Please* tell me what's been bothering you. I promise I won't break." She stopped, taking her partner's elbow. Mulder turned to her, waiting and watching her shrink into herself. She chewed her lip for a moment, then raised her eyes to his, resigned to what she had to tell him. "You're right, there is something else." She clutched his arm, using him as an anchor. "Please, what I'm about to say has nothing to do with you. It's me. I've enjoyed working with you, Mulder." She chewed her lip, hard, stared at the water, then back to his face. "I'd like to thank you for sharing your grief over your Mother with me. It's helped me deal with Mel's death, whether you were aware of it or not. Since Arizona, we've become very close, and I'd like to stay your friend, even after I apply for my transfer back to Quantico." He started. "But, Scully, I thought..." She shook her head. "No, Mulder, let me finish. I'm no good to you anymore." He took her hand, tucking it under his arm and guiding her back to the bench. "You can stop beating yourself up over my Mother's non-death. Speaking as a friend who regularly indulges in long bouts of self-pity, it won't help." She waited until they sat down, side by side. "It's not that. When I was assigned to you, you thought of me as a spy, which, to a certain extent, was my assignment. But before we were broken up..." Mulder's face colored. She looked into his eyes, continuing quickly to banish the darkness she saw there. "You showed me things, things I couldn't explain away. Even after my return, I would out and out deny the evidence you kept finding with me." Mulder settled against the slats of the bench back. "But, it's been so good lately." He shrugged. "Well, not always, especially with what's happened to you, but after we found the papers..." She grasped his wrist, silencing him. "Yes, the notebooks. Once I understood what they meant, I couldn't just continue deny that there was something to what you've been saying all along." Now he rested his hand on her shoulder. "That scares you." She shook head vehemently. "No, it just..." She stopped. "I couldn't work out what was wrong with what you were saying, couldn't do more than just agree with your theories, and that's dangerous. We've always managed to balance each other, you and I, but now, I can't see any other solution than yours." She stared out over the water, whispering. "I know it's been good between us. I like that." He shifted around to watch her face. "So what's wrong? Why are you leaving me? Why do you want to leave the X-Files?" She squared her shoulders and faced him. "I mean, I feel like I've lost my way, so much so that I can't do my job for you by being your foil like I should. I can't force myself to walk, step by step, when you leap, anymore." She shoved her fists in her coat pockets. "And, I've made some bad decisions while working with you these past few months, ones that could have cost us our lives. I should never have forced you into the wire in Phoenix, nor should I have taken the Seibal case." As she looped her hair behind one ear, he frowned. "What was it about Seibal?" She shrugged. "Skinner didn't want us to go down there, but I thought, 'If I were Mulder, I'd go, check things out.' So I went, pulled you away from your Mother, nearly got us both killed twice, and Director Skinner, too. We survived only because I agreed to believe with you, rather than demand you prove everything to me. It was the medal ceremony that drove the point home." He slid across the bench, close to her. "But that was real acknowledgment, more than we've ever had before." She held up one hand to stop his objection. "No, it wasn't. It was all political, staged for the Shadows' benefit, so I started thinking on the way back on the plane. If it had been real, the medal would have been the first official recognition of accomplishment I have received since starting work for the FBI. And it only came when I stopped doing what I would normally do and followed your lead." Her partner was fidgeting anxiously. "Scully, I never wanted..." Her lips set in a hard, thin line, then she continued, "It was all working for you, seeing Ux Balam, talking to him, hearing things through his mind. All I saw was a light. I didn't have any proof to back me up, and I can't just believe the way you can. With no frame of reference for what I was experiencing, I felt cast adrift. You were so drained, then lost your Mother, I couldn't tell you until now." She shivered and gathered the coat around herself, shrinking smaller still as she wrapped her arms around her stomach. "No, it's not like that." Mulder tried to grasp both her shoulders. But she shrugged his hands away. "I've seen so much working with you that I can't explain in terms of our current knowledge of the physical world that I don't know what to think. And I can't believe everything you say, either. I just can't. I've honestly tried, really I have. Boggs, Kryder, I tried to see things as a believer, but I just can't square it." Mulder found himself whispering in desperation. "Scully, don't go." He leaned over towards her until their shoulders touched, needing the physical contact. "I'm sorry you felt you had to do that. I've never wanted you to just agree with me or to be exactly like me. It's been tough these past six weeks, saying strange things even I can't accept, then watching you try to justify them in your reports to Skinner. You've been acting as if I were the absolute greatest authority on everything to do with our cases." He let out a small laugh. "While that's a sure way to butter a guy up, it simply isn't true. When we first met, I told you, 'In most of my work, the laws of physics rarely seem to apply.' That was a glib remark you took too much to heart." One eyebrow lifted. The expression hit him like pre-dawn light. "Before I met you, I thought Science was just a set of beliefs, like a religion. You either accepted these 'rules' and went on about your life, or you didn't. And I still don't accept all the 'rules', as you well know." As her pale face colored, one corner of her mouth turned up slightly. He felt himself beginning to hope. "But, all the discussions we've had over the years have been an education for me. You've taught me about the 'Scientific Method', a process, not a set of rules." He began pacing in front of her. "Look, I know this will sound strange, coming from me, but the method of starting with something that isn't understood, trying to figure out what questions to ask about this unknown thing, then seeking the answers, and starting all over again if needs be, is exactly what we do on a case. And I can't do that alone, Scully. I need your logic and rigor to winnow the Truth from the lies. Psychology is strong on feelings and weak on structure." The upturn was spreading into a full smile. He hunched over, bringing his eyes level with hers. "I'm wrong so often, and you've been there to pull me out of trouble, even when I haven't wanted you to, starting right at the beginning, at Ellens Air Force Base. I should never have jumped on that boxcar in West Virginia, never, as you tried to tell me. You were right about the deaths in Miller's Grove, all of them. I need for you to be true to yourself, to make those steps, to tell me when I've gone off the deep end, not jump in after me." She stared at the ground, the light gone. "Oh. But I don't know anymore, Mulder." He touched her arm. "Yes, you do. You just need to listen to yourself sometimes, so you have my permission to tell me to back off so you can." She chewed her lower lip. "But our present day theories can't necessarily explain everything..." He shook his head. "That's the operative phrase, 'present day theories.' You're back to being stuck on 'rules' again. Don't think like a doctor, where everything has an answer, and the patient is either cured or dies. You're a Physicist, too, so think about Godel's Theorem, the Heisenberg Uncertainty Principle, and Chaos. All these ideas are about breaking 'rules', and I wouldn't have known about them unless you told me about them, or challenged me to go learn about on my own. How do you think the sciences got where they are now?" She thought, then inhaled, reciting. "By examining the data that don't make sense in terms of current theory and understanding." He nodded. "In a way, that's what we're doing here in our search for the Truth, finding phenomena that can't be explained today. No less an empiricist than Steven Jay Gould..." She feigned surprise. He cocked his head. "Yes, I do read something besides books on aliens, no less than Gould, has written that sometimes the best answer is a negative result. It means the theory doesn't work, which is important to know. We can't find the really interesting truth amid all the lies if we don't struggle for it." She rose. "So, unless I hold your feet to the fire over every alien abductee we interview, Modern Science will fail, and society as we know it will cease to exist?" He laughed at the thought. "Or the Reticulans will start replacing everyone with pod people, and we won't know. Just don't leave, okay? And don't be afraid to tell me when you think I'm wrong. You've shot me, slugged me, even drugged me when you thought you could help me, and that didn't separate us, so a few arguments about the nature of reality won't." She bumped his arm with her shoulder. "Okay." They began walking back to the car, but found themselves holding each other instead. Scully buried her face in her partner's white cotton shirt, slipping her arms around his waist under the long tweed coat. Mulder's arms overlapped around her shoulders, as he pulled her close and hid his face in the silk at her neck. They rocked each other, then separated, mentally prepared to start work for the day. --o-0-o-- J. Edgar Hoover Building Washington, DC Monday 6:15 pm Scully dragged herself back into the basement, spent from the gruesome work at the morgue. Mulder took one look at her ashen face and winced. She had worked the rest of the day on the victims of "Plato," a serial killer he had profiled. He extended his sympathy. "Just as bad as you thought?" She sat behind her desk, rubbing her temples, feeling a blinding headache beginning. "Worse. Your analysis for VC was dead on, as usual, pardon the pun. In all our work on the X-files, we've never come across someone as evil as this. To cut the real victims up and reassemble them into his vision of ideal people, well, the human mind..." "Is one of the final frontiers. If you don't feel up to it, we can just call it a night and can the lecture." She looked up. "No, let's go. I'd like to meet the two men we tried to find." She checked her watch. "We'll have to hurry." --o-0-o-- Auditorium Dumbarton Oaks Monday 6:40 pm Bob Harris looked up from his notes. "Do you see them, Steve?" Steve Waters shook his head, then blinked at the light cast by the opening door. It was the FBI agents, a tall man and his tiny red-haired partner. "There they are." The agents approached the two archaeologists, Mulder nodding to Jerry Collins, who was setting up the slide projector. "Agent Mulder, Agent Scully!" Bob Harris called out. The four shook hands before retiring to a side room to talk. --o-0-o-- "We have a message for you, from Ux Balam." Bob Harris began, but was interrupted by his colleague. Steve Waters shook his head. "We *think* from Ux Balam. After all, we were in comas, as nearly as the doctors who looked at us could tell." Dr. Harris frowned at his associate. "He met us on the edge of the Ballcourt in Xibalba, and wanted to say thank you to you two, but especially you, Dr. Scully, for all you did for his Maya, and he hoped you would recover, Agent Mulder. He's there now, playing for the souls of his people." Steve Waters rolled his eyes. "We were in comas, remember? I'm not going to stand out there with you tonight and explain the scoring for the Ballgame and the meaning of the pillar layout. Someone will ask 'How do you know?' and we'll be run out on a rail for the answer 'We played it in Xibalba.' We need more evidence from archaeology for...What?" The two agents were laughing, exchanging a long look. Mulder bumped his partner's shoulder. "This is what we look like? No wonder we never get any plum assignments." "Gentlemen, if you please, it's time to start." The Director ushered the agents to seats in the front. As the lights dimmed, Scully whispered in her partner's lowered ear. "Just think, you wanted to pass this up, Mulder." He responded, sotto voce. "And miss those two rolling around on the floor with their hands on each other's throats? Never, Scully, never." For the next hour, they were treated to glyphic decipherments, tomb vase rollout photos, and stone stelae interpretations, all devoted to Ux Balam. They heard of his great victory over Dos Pilas on the Ballcourt, of Yax-Zoc and her march of blood, of their failure to produce a child, and how the city fell to foreign invaders under Ux Balam's younger brother. Scully was enthralled, until the screaming pain in her head took over. By the end, she was wincing at the dim light from the screen, and jumping as the projector advanced slides. Mulder leaned over to her as the lights came up. "You okay?" She shook her head. "Headache?" "Migraine." "We'll skip the reception, then. You want to stop for anything on the way home?" The shaking head again. "I won't be able to eat until this goes away, and the smell of food just makes it worse. Take me home, please." Normally, he would have zinged her with a comeback, but tonight, he helped her into her coat and out the door. "Just one stop before we get there, but you can stay in the car. Do you mind?" He was relieved when she shook her head once. --o-0-o-- Tsim Yung Chinese Carryout Alexandria, Va 8:45 pm "Hello!" The tiny Taiwanese woman greeted Mulder as he stepped through the glass door, several bells on the long handle chiming. "Hi." She waited while he looked over the menu. "Dr. Scully is not feeling well?" Mulder looked up, surprised she recognized his partner, slumped against the window in the car. "No, she's not. Headache." Before her surgery, Scully usually ordered Kung Pau Chicken, but now she was eating tofu and various seaweed products he didn't even want to contemplate. "I'd like the beef with broccoli, please. What does Dr. Scully usually get?" The woman's face lit up in a huge smile. "Buddhist Delight and steamed vegetable dumplings. You ordering for her?" "Yes, I am." He paid the cost of the take-out, watching the cooks in the long galley behind the counter in action, chopping and stir-frying the two entrees. In a corner, the woman filled soft wonton wrappers with strips of ginger, cabbage, carrot, and shitake mushrooms. Then she pinched the ends of the wrappers shut, forming little bags with her wet fingers. She loaded the dumplings into a bamboo steamer, and set the steamer over water boiling in a huge wok. As the entrees finished, she removed the dumplings, packaging up rice, the dumplings, and the main dishes. He thanked her before returning to the car, where Scully was struggling to relax the muscles in her neck with her hands. "Sorry it took so long." He bent forward to see her face. "Hope the smell doesn't bother you too much on the way home, Scully." "It'll be okay, Mulder." --o-0-o-- Apartment 5 Alexandria, VA 9:10 pm Scully grimaced as the keys hit the floor for the second time, the jangling amplified by her raging pain into thunderclaps. She could hear her dog scratching and whining inside. Once she opened the door, she stepped back to let her partner in. The Pomeranian jumped up and down at the smell of the food, attempting to bite the bag, all other bodily functions forgotten. Scully sighed. "I'll take him out, Mulder. You eat your dinner." Before he could protest, she had dropped her case and clipped the leash on the dog's collar. "Come on, Fuzzball, let's go." Then she was out the door. Mulder put his briefcase down next to hers, and walked into the kitchen, sliding the unopened packages into the refrigerator. He knew she would refuse pain killers, if offered, as she had all the times he tried to get her to use them when she was recovering in March. But he knew something better for migraines, something he learned when his mother used to get them. He turned the lights off in the kitchen, leaving a single fifty watt bulb on in the living room. Eventually he heard the dog's toenails clicking on the wooden floor of the center hallway, and stood to open the door, checking her face. After she unclipped the leash, the dog scooted into the kitchen, tracking the beef with broccoli. Wagging his tail, he waited by the refrigerator door. Scully paused in the kitchen doorway. "No, no, no bad beef with broccoli for you." "Scully!" Mulder feigned looking wounded. She winced, then tried to grin at his joke, failing miserably. "For my boy, *yummy* Science Diet. Good, healthy, and nutritious." She scooped the contents of a small can into a bowl. The dog sniffed the food, then returned to the refrigerator. Mulder grinned. "Well, score another one for the Red Menace. He knows too much Science is bad for his brain. You're raising a junk food junkie there." Seeing how pale she was, he pulled out one of the kitchen table chairs and patted the back. Baffled, she settled on the hard seat. He placed one of the other chairs opposite her, shrugging out of his jacket and tie and rolling up his sleeves before he sat. When he reached out to her, she drew back. "Mulder?" "Now, I used to do this for my mom, so just relax." She dropped her shoulders, thinking of the care he had given her when she had been recovering. "She used to get migraines?" "Um-hum." He probed her forehead with his fingers. When he felt her push hard against them and gasp, he knew he had found a concentrated knot of shooting pain. He worked in small circles, starting just below the point of suffering and in the middle of her forehead, moving out and up. He kept massaging past the hairline, around her head, down the back of her neck, stopping at the edges of her shoulders. "That's working, I can feel it." "Wait, I'm not done yet. Come with me, you need to lie on the sofa, face down." When she had complied, he began at the same spot on her forehead again, massaging slowly around her head and down her shoulders, until her regular breathing told him she was asleep. He knew from Chilmark that sleep was the only cure, and she had to relax enough to get there. Scully had replaced the afghan on the sofa with the Maya blanket, so he covered her with it, removing her pumps as he did so. His Mother was always hungry when she woke up, so he sat on the floor by her head, turned the television on with the sound off, and waited. --o-0-o-- After about forty-five minutes, her cordless phone rang. He grabbed it before it could sound a second time to take it into the kitchen to talk without waking her. "Mulder. Oh, hi Mrs. Scully." "Fox, dear, what are you doing there? Is Dana all right?" "Yes, just a migraine. She's sleeping right now. Do you want me have her call you back when she wakes up?" "No, well, if she wants to, but I really wanted to talk to you and you weren't at your place." He checked his cel phone, finding he had somehow turned it on in his coat pocket, and the battery had run down. "What is it?" Her voice dropped. "I got a letter today." "Don't say anything over the phone, Mrs. Scully. I know what you're referring to." "Is everything going to be all right?" "I think it will for a while. Mrs. Scully?" "Yes?" "How often does Scully get these headaches?" "Not very often. The last one was after she passed her medical board certification. She usually only gets them after she's worked her way through something significant. She had a really bad one after graduating from Medical School; it kept her in bed for a week." She stopped. "I know you can't give me any details, but is everything going well at work?" "It is." "She had some nasty autopsies to do today. Maybe that's what was bothering her." "It must be. Come back to visit soon, I miss having people in the house." He smiled, thinking of the belated cake she fixed for him on Sunday. "Sure." "Fox?" "Yes?" "Take care of Dana for me? She may need a day or so off work." "Okay, I will. Bye." Margaret hung up, wondering. --o-0-o-- Monday 11:30 pm Dana Scully woke up and turned over. Her partner was asleep in the chair where she last saw her father, his legs propped on the coffee table. The Pomeranian was curled up in his lap, snoring softly. Realizing his cure had worked, she pushed herself off the sofa. The motion startled the dog, who yipped, waking the man. He looked over at her. "Scully?" "You're a miracle worker, Dr. Mulder, I'm healed." "Hosanna. Hungry now?" She smiled. "Famished. But you only bought beef with broccoli." He shook his head. "They must know you there, Dr. Scully. Buddhist Delight and steamed vegetable dumplings, although I think all those low fat fungi will give you hallucinations." "Mulder!" He pushed the dog off his lap, heading for the kitchen. She followed him, watching as he placed the dumplings in the microwave. He stared over his shoulder at her. "How long?" She punched in sixty seconds, then set out two plates for the rest of the food. He stepped between her and the counter. "No, Ma'am, you sit. I'll do this." She smiled as she replaced the two chairs they had used earlier. "Working on your resume?" He frowned, then recalled their discussion after climbing out of the pit at Ux Balam's tomb. "Have to. The Holistic Detective Agency won't return my calls." -o-FINIS-o- XIBALBA -----o------------------------------------------------------o----- The king's a beggar, now the play is done: All is well ended, if this suit be won, That you express content; which we will pay, With strife to please you, day exceeding day: Your gentle hands lend us, and take our hearts. All's Well that Ends Well -----o------------------------------------------------------o----- Thank you, all who have ventured this far. Many fans have wondered why Scully won't just 'believe' in the paranormal after all she has seen working with Mulder. I wrote this story partially because I wanted to explore the problems for her psyche if she did. Those running numbers under the Gregorian dates are the Maya Long Count dates, and "Forest of Kings" (see below) explains very nicely how they work. I could also cheat, since they explicitly set out the Long Count for January 1, 2000. With no leap years between the time of the story and then, I could roll the clock backwards, not start at the beginning of the Present Creation, August 11, 3114 BCE. Linda Schele and David Stuart are both real people and scholars of the new Maya school of thought. Linda, not an archaeologist originally, but an artist, really does love Palenque, does revisit nearly every summer, and will, as any good member of the Amalgamated Thinkers and Philosophers Union should, explain her beloved Maya to all who ask. David Stuart's parents worked for the National Geographic Society on Central America, so he was exposed to the Maya as a very young child. He did translate his first glyph at eight, and may, by now, have his PhD from Princeton. I didn't intend those statements to be a dig at David Duchovny, who left to become an actor, since I haven't finished my PhD from Johns Hopkins, either. I just think it's wonderful that we can now hear the ancient Maya stories in their own words, see the constellations as they did, and we owe it all to some very interesting and dynamic researchers. There are several excellent popular books out explaining the present state of Maya scholarship to the non-specialist. I have used the "Maya Cosmos" text extensively, especially for the astronomy parts. However, *don't* take what I say in the story as the absolute state of the art in this field, as it changes from day to day. And any mistakes are mine, not Scully's or the scholars. Let me recommend: "Breaking the Maya Code" by Michael D. Coe, published in 1992 by Thames and Hudson, Inc. of New York, 304 pp. "Maya Cosmos: Three Thousand Years on the Shaman's Path" by David Freidel, Linda Schele, and Joy Parker, published in 1993 by William Morrow and Company, Inc. of New York, 543 pp. "The Mesoamerican Ballgame" edited by Vernon L. Scarborough and David R. Wilcox, published in 1991 by The University of Arizona Press in Tucson, 404 pp. "A Forest of Kings: The Untold Story of the Ancient Maya" by Linda Schele and David Freidel, published in 1990 by William Morrow and Company, Inc. of New York, 542 pp. "The Code of Kings: The Language of Seven Sacred Maya Temples and Tombs" by Linda Schele and Peter Mathews, published in 1998 by Scribner of New York, 432 pp. This includes a chapter on Seibal, so you, dear reader, can visit the site of this adventure I've written for Mulder and Scully. Also, there is a wonderfully detailed description of Pacal's tomb in the chapter on Palenque. "Popol Vuh: the Mayan Book of the Dawn of Life, revised edition", translated by Dennis Tedlock, published in 1996 by Touchstone, 388 pp. --o-0-o-- One final disclaimer. The Mulder as the Energizer Bunny joke is a riff off a suggestion for an Energizer battery commercial by Randy and Mary Kaye Krum. Their thought was for a 30 second X-file showing Mulder's Supervolt batteries failing in his cel phone as the fabulous pink beast is carried away in a spaceship, but, hey, I call'em as I see'em. =====o====================================================o===== "Xibalba" Originally released to ATXC: 3/10/96 Corrected, revised for POV shifts, with minor content corrections: 6/17-18/97 Second revision: 4/26/98-5/6/98 =====o=====================================================o=====