Complications - Sarah Kiley
Rating R
Category TR
Archived 96-09-11
Keywords Mulder/Scully romance.
Spoilers
Summary After Mulder is in a car accident, Scully continues her investigation in 
an effort to save him.

Los Angeles, California
May 14, 1995
12:03 P.M.

        Penelope Melicin sat in her loft apartment in Los
Angeles. It was surprisingly quiet for this early at night,
but Penelope loved the silence. It was a luxury she didn't
get too often, dealing with her project. She had gone over
that first night over and over again in her head. What if
she hadn't accidentally connected her modem up wrong? What
if she hadn't told Dr. Burnstein about what she had done?
What if she had kept it a secret? Time and space had seemed
to take on little consequence for Penelope since that night.
From old computer parts, and the knowledge in her own brain,
she had done something amazing. Something no one else had
ever achieved.
        Subconscious interactive virtual reality.
        Penelope didn't look the part, to have created
something as complex as SIVR, though.  She still was
classified as Generation X, but she fit no stereotype. She
was tall, and thin, scraggly almost. At first glance could
be considered a college student, in her lax clothes. She was
dressed down and out almost always, and you had to glance
twice to realize she was pretty underneath the loose jeans,
undershirt and flannel. But if you dressed her up in a tight
outfit, she'd look like a bimbo. But Penelope Melicin was
neither of these things. She had long legs, but her figure
was unshapely. She had a long cream white face, a sharp
nose, and a heart-shaped pink mouth. Her black hair was
dark, and wispy in places, but usually it just surrounded
her face, because she never bothered to do anything with it.
Her eyebrows were very thin, and they arched over twin blue
almond-shaped eyes. Her eyes were one of the most intriguing
things about her. On one side, she was innocent, new and
lost in the world of Project SIVR, but on the other side,
she knew fear, pain, regret far too well to be so innocent.
The look in her eyes was all that separated from a college
kid.
        Penelope hadn't been important, hadn't been famous.
Just a computer analyst who was still struggling to make a
living. And up until that night, she had been just herself,
Penelope Melicin. It hadn't been a different night. Her live-
in boyfriend Graham Stevenson who seemed to have infinite
knowledge of all New Age religion, had disconnected her
modem again to use the phone. A night like any other. Until
she entered her computer. VR, or virtual reality was
something Penelope loved. She could do whatever she pleased,
always safe in her apartment.
        But that had changed. Penelope was always curious,
never quite knowing what to expect when she did certain
things with her old computer. So she had experimented. An
old no longer made brand of phone wire, a new set of VR
goggles and gloves, connecting her old phone wire with the
one she had pulled out of a trashed computer. It seemed
harmless, after all what could happen?
        Everything.
        She had opened a world where anything could, and
would happen. It had been fun at first, strange, exciting,
mysterious. But then things got dangerous.
        Really dangerous. SIVR allowed her to experience
virtual reality with another person. Without VR goggles or
gloves, or a computer, even. Just a telephone. The sound
waves and the VR waves fluctuated when she used this new
computer, and all she had to do was switch her modem over
and she could bring the person in. At least, that was what
she theorized had happened. In reality, she knew it was
much, much different. Her father had been one of the leading
inventors of virtual reality, before he went insane, working
on a new project. He had involved her in the project,
letting her test out VR models he had created. Of course, in
the 1970s, it had all been "hush hush" for fear of the
Russians getting ahold of this new technology her father had
created. And after a time, he had disallowed her use of it
because they hadn't learned everything about what this form
of VR did to your brain. This entire project was weird. The
brand of phone wire was supposed to be defective, but it
worked perfectly with her computer, and it allowed her to do
more than chit-chat with the few friends she had.
        It was odd, she mused, that both she and her father
should be pioneers in the computer field, then she hadn't
even been remotely interested in her father's work, except
for being able to fly in VR. She feared she was becoming
like her father, going slowly insane every day she dealt
with SIVR. When someone came into SIVR with her, it had a
profound effect on his or her personality. Going into SIVR
left subconscious imprints, hidden messages in the person's
unconscious mind, and little side effects happened. She had
brought Graham in, and the next day, after learning her
murderous thoughts when he made her cook supper, he had made
dinner for both of them for a week.
        The strange thing was that he swore he didn't feel
anything happen when she brought him into SIVR. It was as if
nothing had happened, he said. But she could see the
changes.
        She had divulged her thoughts to who she thought was
her long-time friend Dr. Frank Burnstein, her life changed.
She was almost murdered in an assassination attempt while
talking with Burnstein, and then she had met someone more
important, and she had become something more important than
just a computer analyst. She had become a member of Project
SIVR, its leader Russell Sandar.
        She had been forced into it, originally with
Burnstein had been her only link to the Russell, but she
knew that even he didn't have too much power. Within a week,
Penelope had been shown a secret government project, where
people mutated into animals using primal instincts. Of
course, she had only been asked for to put the subconscious
message into each of the members' brains.
        She had suspected from the start that she wasn't
going to like being a part of this.
        She knew it now.
        And she also knew it when Burnstein had been shot on
his way to a police station to divulge all the information
about the project. And she knew then that this was a serious
project, with serious people.
        Join or die.
        Penelope sighed with heavy memories. Dr. Burnstein,
with his calm and cool voice, slight southern accent-
probably northern Texas. In the end, the older man with
thinning hair and a face that needed a smile more than
anything else had given his life for her, she suspected,
giving her her first taste of reality, the dangerous side to
this "wonderful" new technology she had discovered.
         She felt alone. Very alone. Oh, sure, she had
Graham. She would always have Graham. But although he was
officially her boyfriend, she considered him more of a best
friend. He was handsome, with long black hair and blue eyes
under dark eyebrows, but Graham was really more of a friend.
They even slept in separate bedrooms.
        Which eliminated all her romantic prospects. An
outsider would ask questions about the computer, and if she
told him, she ran the risk of losing her life. So she
basically had no life since entering the project. Not as if
she'd had much of one before, but at least she'd been able
to do what she wanted when she wanted and if she wanted. She
missed her freedom.
        It was hopeless.
        She leaned back in the swivel chair, and pulled on
her VR goggles. She thought about calling someone. Anyone.
Dial any number, and see what happened. But instead she set
the landscape as space, the pictures taken from Star Trek
episodes and satellites.
        She floated up and around in her cyberspace. It was
nothing like SIVR, but it didn't matter. In SIVR she had to
deal with things- people, places, and she never knew what
could pop up. It was like a pleasant dream and a nightmare
stuffed into one. She heard Graham enter behind her.
        At least, she thought it was Graham.

FBI Headquarters- Washington, D.C.
May 13, 1995
11:53 PM

        Thousands of miles away, Agent Fox Mulder sat at his
desk in the basement of the FBI building in Washington, D.C.
It was near midnight, but that didn't bother him. There was
paperwork to be done, and he'd made it a rule to never leave
before his redheaded blue-eyed partner Dana Scully left. He
didn't really know why he waited until she'd left, there was
certainly no reason to, but it was a ritual he never failed
to keep up with.
        He rubbed his wrist, sore from filling out documents
and signing things by hand. He was almost finished with his
pile, though, while he didn't know where Scully was. She
usually typed up all her documents. He wished sorely that he
had taken typing in high school. Might have come in useful
now.
        He glanced over at her. She sat back, and slipped
off her glasses, rubbing the bridge of her sharp nose. Her
hair was strawberry-blond more strawberry than blond, and it
came down straight to shoulder length. She had a slightly
rounded face, a tight mouth, and eyes that mimicked the
shape of her face. She was short, with a slim and curving
figure Mulder paid little attention to. To him she was
Scully, trusted colleague and friend. It wasn't that he
hadn't noticed she was beautiful- he had. But it just didn't
affect him the way it might some other men.
        She was dressed in a loose white blouse and a wine-
colored vest that matched her skirt that came up to just
above her knees. He let his eyes linger over her a moment.
She looked tired and weary, and it was misplaced. Her face
should have had a thousand laughs on it. He marveled at his
partner sometimes. She looked younger than her thirty years,
but crystal blue eyes told the truth about her age.
        He watched her eyes glance at her coffee cup, and he
smiled softly, getting up. He sauntered over to her,
grabbing her cup nonchalantly off of the top of her
computer. She watched him move out the door, and smiled.
Mulder surprised her often, just little things he did that
were sweet. Come to think of it, he had gotten her that
coffee mug, for her birthday last February. It had been
specially made. On the side was a little picture of a UFO,
and the words "I Don't Want To Believe" on it. She had
laughed with delight at the gift from her friend.
        Now she turned back to her computer, and sighed.
Only a few more forms, but they could wait until tomorrow,
couldn't they? She'd rather just go home. But Mulder was
coming back in. He set her cup on the desk next to her, and
smiled. "One cream, no sugar."
        She smiled. "Thanks. How much more do you have to
do?" she asked, taking a sip. Scully had long since stopped
wondering how her partner knew these things about her- it
was just observation on his part. Fox Mulder was a tall,
handsome man, with longish black hair that was usually
unruly. His face could look incredibly thin, or round,
depending on what angle you were at. His nose, just a hair
too proud, was made up for by deeply intense brown eyes that
showed emotion his face didn't. He had a medium frame, and
was lanky in stance. Mulder wasn't extremely muscular, but
not out of shape, with slight muscles in his arms. He was
now dressed in a gray suit that hung off of his lean figure,
and a white and black pin-stripe dress shirt with the cuffs
rolled to his elbows, and the collar unbuttoned. His maroon
tie with gray stripes was lost somewhere amid the clutter of
the office.
        Mulder waited until he had collapsed in his chair
before answering, "Just a few more. What about you?"
        She nodded in agreement. "I think I'm gonna call it
a night- you?"
        He shrugged, and stood, downing the rest of his
coffee with a long gulp. Mulder reached an arm over, and
shut off his desk lamp. The only light was from the dimmed
ones overhead and her computer screen, which gave off a blue
radiance and reflected in her reading glasses. A moment
later, that was gone, and he was helping her into her coat.
His hands brushed the side of her neck lightly. Mulder's
fingers were long and tapered, like a pianists.
        "Hey Mulder, you never played piano, did you?" she
asked. He pulled her hair gently from out of the collar of
her topcoat, and frowned slightly.
        "No, why?"
        She turned, and tossed her head back. "Just
curious," she said, turning back around. She picked up her
briefcase and waved her hand. "See you tomorrow, Mulder."
        "Yeah, bye, Scully."
        Mulder stood in the office for a few minutes after
she left. Something told him he should stay. He was just
getting ready to pull on his coat and leave when the fax
machine beeped. He turned to it, and watched the sheets of
paper roll out. Within fifteen minutes he was booking
flights and reservations in L.A. for Scully and him.
        Mulder was doing the calculations when he shut the
door.

3170 W. 53 Rd. #35
Annapolis, MD
May 14, 1995

        A ring sounded on Agent Dana Scully's phone. She
moaned slightly, and rolled over in bed. The digital alarm
clock read 1:16 AM. Its red numbers glowed in the darkness,
but her eyes saw them as blurry figures. She needed to
sleep...
        But the ring sounded again. It was as if the
telephone were calling to her. "Urgeeeennt!" it screamed
with its pestilent ring. She reached a slender arm out, and
picked it up wearily.
        "Hello?" she mumbled, stifling a yawn.
        "Agent Scully," a male voice said. She recognized
Assistant Director Skinner's voice, and sat up slightly. A
chill ran down her spine. She leaned against the headboard.
One hand clutched the comforter to her chest, the other
gripped the phone tightly.
        "Yes," she said, surprised and more than concerned
about the faltering tone in her voice.
        "This is Assistant Director Skinner," the voice
continued. I know that, I know that- get to the point! "The
reason I'm calling is- Agent Mulder's been in an accident."
        Scully froze, and her stomach turned. Mulder...
        "I'm sorry. He- he must have been asleep at the
wheel. He hit the curb going eighty, and skidded into a
tree. The car flipped over. We don't know about his
condition yet..."
        She swallowed, and tried to still her breathing,
simultaneously trying to listen to what Skinner had to say.
But her thoughts kept returning. Not Mulder, please, not
him.
        Before Scully understood what was going on, she was
dressing. She slipped into a pair of jeans, and a light blue
T-shirt. She moved in a daze around the apartment, finding
her keys, her jacket. When she remembered that only a few
hours ago, her partner had helped her into it, she felt
something large and ominous stick in her throat. Didn't know
about his condition. Didn't she, the medical doctor that she
was, tell that to people who had dead relatives? Mulder
couldn't be dead, though. She would feel it if Mulder was
dead. She would feel it in the place deep inside her that
seemed to be only half a person without him. She was vaguely
aware of things, it seemed. Her nerve endings felt as if
they had been rubbed raw, and her whole body was numb. She
felt herself slip her gun into the pocket of her topcoat,
and check to make sure she had her badge. It would probably
be the only way she could get in to see him. As she was
sitting in her car, trying to shove the keys in the
ignition, she wondered if Skinner had called Mulder's
parents. She had never met them, not even talked to them on
the phone. Scully realized with a sudden start that she was
being pessimistic. Maybe Mulder had a... a broken arm, or a
bump on his head, and he'd be all right.
        We don't know about his condition, yet.
        She kept her futile effort to jam the keys in for a
good five minutes, nonthinking. She wondered if Mulder had
felt this way, when she had come back, when she had been
found. Did he smile, and then immediately worry about her?
Did he cry- no, Mulder didn't cry. He kept his secrets
inside, and inside was where they stayed.
        She felt dizzy, and the world looked surreal. The
quiet hum as she succeeded in starting the car, and the
honks from other cars as she ran through red lights, or just
stopped and stared at green ones, seemed far away, as if she
was underwater. The lights of the ambulances, red and white,
still flashing around reached her senses through a fog. She
parked her car in the emergency section, and walked through
a maze of people. The hospital was busy. She wandered
through the sickly-smelling halls, until someone reached out
and grabbed her arm. She turned, and saw Melissa. Her older
sister had an expression that held the sorrows of the
saints, her red head hung, her blue eyes saddened somewhat.
        "How did you get here?" Scully realized the words
were out of her mouth though she couldn't remember thinking
to ask the question.
        She saw her mother approach, and Skinner. It was he
who answered her question. "I received the call at home- I
didn't know your private number, and I reached your mother
before I was able to reach you," he explained. His voice was
subdued. Skinner was a tall, bald man with round spectacles,
and a hard, edgy way about him. Even so, he had helped both
her and Mulder a great deal. Skinner was an ally, instead of
an enemy.
        "What about Mulder's parents?" Margaret asked.
Scully watched her mother, with her long, wavy black hair,
the small lines from both worrying and smiling, and the gray
eyes that were like her eldest daughter's.
        "It's taken care of, Mrs. Scully," Skinner said in a
husky voice. His face was slightly pale, but otherwise he
was in total control of the situation.
        Melissa took Scully's hand into her own, and Scully
found herself in a hard plastic chair. She looked over at
her sister's melancholy face, and realized that she was the
strong one. She couldn't start crying- Mulder was probably
fine. And she certainly couldn't cry in front of all these
people, for no good reason. "What happened- where is he?"
she asked, calm finally reaching her voice although she was
shaking on the inside.
        Skinner looked down at her, and slipped his glasses
off, absentmindedly rubbing them. "He was brought a little
over an hour ago. He's up in intensive care, but they won't
let anyone in until his family arrives, and says it's OK,
and the doctor won't talk to us."
        Scully stood, regaining her dignity, and rounding it
off with a spurt of determination. "They'll let me in," she
said, and walked towards the elevator.
        No one spoke a word.

        Scully moved calmly down the hall towards intensive
care. It was more quiet then one might think, but then
again, it was a Monday night. Most people were home asleep,
preparing their brains and bodies for the next workday.
Scully hesitated a moment, before pushing open the double
doors. She glanced around the circular room. The sections
designated as "rooms" were shut off from the rest of the
world by a pair of heavy bluish drapes. Except for one in a
corner of the room. She felt sick when she realized that
Mulder was in the same room she had been in. A nurse walked
up to her, and Scully smiled, recognizing her.
        "What are you doing here, Miss, say- don't I know
you?" she asked. The tall nurse had short curly black hair,
and dark skin, like chocolate, and there was a slight
Southern twang to her words.
        Scully smiled. "I'm Dana Scully- you took care of me
when I was in a coma here a few months ago."
        Nurse Wilkins smiled. "That's right. I remember you
now. I remember what came tearing up in here after you.
What're you doing here?"
        "I- my partner, Fox Mulder- he's been in a car
accident, and they said I could find him up here."
        Her smile faded. "Oh, I'm sorry, Dana. Mulder-
thought that name was familiar- he's right over here. I just
got in, so I didn't get a chance to check on him," she said
apologetically, leading the way across the small room.
Scully followed, but each step seemed to take a year. What
she really wanted to do was run. Run towards his room, pick
up the chart, and find out what was happening. It took all
of her self-control not to do just that.
        When she did reach Mulder's room, she bowed her
head. He was hooked up to respirators and monitors. She
stood beside him, and looked down. His skin was a grayish
color, and he looked, in all senses, dead. Tentatively, she
touched his forehead, brushing aside a stray piece of silky
black hair.
        "He's comatose," Nurse Wilkins said behind her.
Scully turned, and held her hand out to almost rip the chart
out of the nurse's hands. "He suffered a concussion, and
there was a bit of frontal lobe damage."
        "He won't remember how this happened when he wakes
up," she said softly. She had experienced damage such as
that herself, memories blurred and she found herself looking
at a life that had changed after she had lost time. After
she had lost a few months of her life. She skimmed the rest
of his chart, and held her breath a moment. Her blue eyes
were large and round as they stared at her partner. Her body
trembled slightly, and she closed her eyes a moment, trying
to picture Mulder the way he was. Beautiful, intelligent
hazel eyes, soft smile, wry sense of humor. Soft black hair,
big, gentle hands. She suddenly felt sick to her stomach. To
never see him like that again, to never look into those
hazel eyes that both mocked her and praised her, like a
teasing big brother's...
        "He could be this way forever."

        Scully sat in the hospital cafeteria. It was empty
except for her, the walls a tan color. Immaculate white
tables were set up. The cafeteria was closed, all the food
put away. There wasn't even any coffee. But it didn't
matter. She had to get away from all the people upstairs.
Skinner, her mother, and Melissa were still upstairs. She
had to think by herself for a while. What would she do
without Mulder? He was like a part of her, two halves of a
whole. What would she do if she never saw him again? She
closed her eyes. He had been there for her, she had to be
there for him. She had to keep her optimism high, or else he
truly would be dead. She played with a coffee stir, flipping
it over in her palm. He had brought her coffee only a few
hours ago. A few hours ago he had smiled. "Yeah, bye
Scully." She took a few deep breaths to keep from crying.
Mulder couldn't die. He just couldn't. There were so many
things he had to do yet. He had to find the truth, find his
sister. She had to tell him things, how much she cared about
him, as her partner, as her best friend. She realized
vaguely that in all the time she and Mulder had been
partners, there were a lot of things they hadn't done. They
hadn't gone out for a cup of coffee together after work, she
hadn't told him he was one of her best friends. And if he
did revive, she knew that they probably would never do that.
She hadn't gotten the chance to do things, yet. To kiss him,
hug him, and say good-bye. She had to explain to him how
important he was to her. That she would do anything if it
would save him, that she had never felt that she would do
anything for another human being. That she would die for
someone else...
        A woman sat down across from her, and Scully was
pulled from her reverie. The woman was young, in her late
twenties, probably. She had long black hair that came to her
elbows, dark green eyes, and a thin and shapely figure. She
was dressed in a disposable aqua green shirt and pair of
pants. The woman looked and Scully and smiled
understandingly. "Who is it?"
        Scully looked up at her, startled. "Um, excuse me?"
        "Who are you here for? Your father, boyfriend,
kid.."
        She smiled. "My friend. He was in a car accident."
        "I'm sorry. Is he all right?"
        Scully looked at her clasped hands. "He's in a coma.
He might not come out," she said, wondering why she was
chatting with a complete and total stranger.
        The woman smiled. "I'm sorry, I forgot to introduce
myself. My name's Jennifer, Jennifer Harmone. Nice to meet
you..."
        "Dana Scully," Scully said, extending a hand.
        They shook hands, and Jennifer smiled. "I'm sorry to
hear about your friend. Were you really close?"
        Scully nodded. "Yeah. But he's tough. He's been
through something like this before, he'll make it," she
said, with more confidence than she felt.
        Jennifer nodded. "Are you hungry or anything? I work
here, and, don't take this the wrong way, but you look like
you could use a little caffeine," she said helpfully.
        "Thanks, could I get a cup of coffee?"
        "Sure," Jennifer said, pleased. "So, what's your
friend's name?" she asked, starting the coffee machine.
        "Mulder."
        "That his first name?" Jennifer asked.
        Scully smiled. "His first name's Fox, but he doesn't
like being called that."
        "If I had a name like that, I'd go by my last name,
too," she joked. "What happened was he not wearing a
seatbelt, or something?"
        Scully shrugged. "I'm not sure. You know, it's
funny, you never really realize how much someone means to
you, until something like this happens. I mean, he's my
friend, and I care a lot about him, and I don't think I ever
told him," she said softly.
        "That can happen. You must have been really close. I
know my friends wouldn't climb out of bed at two in the
morning to visit me in the hospital," she said. The coffee
started up, she came back, and sat across from Scully. "It
shows you a lot about people, human nature in general. How
did you meet him, can I ask?"
        Scully gave a crooked grin. "At work. I'm an FBI
agent. He's my partner, still is. I remember the first time
I saw him. I was only just out of the academy, not really
experienced, and my superiors paired me up with him. He was
working on a bunch of unsolved cases in a certain section of
the Bureau they wanted to shut down. So they sent me to
validate his work, see if this section was worth keeping
around. A lot of other people might have hated being
assigned to him, he's been known to have.... well, weird
ideas. He believes in UFOs, things like that. But, he was
more experienced, he's got a good reputation in the Violent
Crimes section, so I didn't mind, not really. We didn't
really like each other in the beginning. I was trying to
make the best of what you might consider a bad situation,
and he was making it as hard as possible, he had this smart-
ass attitude in the beginning, it used to really piss me
off. Our first case was a bunch of unexplained deaths- with
the usual UFO things- small marks, objects found in the
subject's nose. Things started making sense, things that
were impossible started to fit into place. It scared me,
still does. I mean, I'm a believer in science, in physical
stuff, and this... it was impossible, unbelievable. It
really challenged my ideals, everything I'd ever been
taught," she explained. Scully's grin softened into a slight
reminiscing smile. Nostalgia overtook her. "I remember- each
victim had these marks, two twin marks on their lower backs,
and I found two on my back. I asked him to check them out
for me- I think I must have startled him, coming to his room
in the middle of the night, wearing nothing but my
underwear. Turned out to be mosquito bites, but it scared
the hell out of me. He didn't trust me in the beginning,
either. He knew I was there to, "spy" on him, and he wasn't
taking any chances. He's got good roots for his beliefs,
though. His sister disappeared when he was twelve. He
underwent deep regression hypnosis- I've heard the tapes,
and he thinks she was abducted by aliens, he has memories of
a bright light, his sister crying for help..." Scully
shrugged. "He's really nice. He's always been there for me.
I was kidnapped, yes the saga continues," she joked, smiling
when Jennifer quirked a perfectly arched black eyebrow. "I
was kidnapped- missing for a few months. I don't have any
memory of it though, where I was, what happened. But, I
turned up in a hospital- comatose, no one knows how. He was
there every day, my mom told me. He found my necklace- it's
a cross I wear. He kept it with him all the months I was
missing," she said, smiling.
        Jennifer nodded. "He sounds like a great guy, a good
friend."
        "He is," Scully said, her smile fading, her voice
dropping lower.
        "Oh! Coffee's done," Jennifer said, standing. She
poured two cups, and looked over at Scully. "What do you
take?"
        "One cream, no sugars," she said.
        Jennifer turned back, and then brought the coffee
over. "Caffeine- doctor's best friend," she said. She took a
sip of her coffee, and watched Scully. The two women downed
their coffee in silence.
        When they were finished, Jennifer stood, smiling.
"I'll pay this Mulder of yours a visit, maybe, when he's
better. See if he's really everything you say. Do you know
what time it is?" Jennifer asked, suddenly distressed.
        Scully glanced at her watch. She yawned. "It's
almost three," she said.
        "I've got to go. I've got surgery in twenty minutes.
I'll see you around, okay?" she said, standing.
        Scully nodded and smiled. "It was nice meeting you!"
she called, as Jennifer disappeared into the back of the
kitchen. Scully glanced at where the woman had sat. She
realized that the woman had left a white sweater draped over
the back of the chair. She stood quickly, and grabbed it,
running to the door to the kitchen, in hopes to catch her.
"Jennifer, you forgot-"
        No one in the kitchen. Scully looked around. There
weren't even any doors in here. Only an open window. A black
cat stood next to the window. It meowed at Scully, and then
escaped, disappearing into the night. Scully felt a shiver
run down her back, and set Jennifer's sweater on the counter
where the cat had been. Unnerved, she walked out of the
kitchen, and left the cafeteria altogether, feeling sick to
her stomach.

        Scully entered her apartment a few hours later. She
felt queasy, she had ever since seeing Mulder in the
hospital. Something told her it wasn't just the stress that
brought the dull ache. It had been a long night, and now she
wanted to sleep, as the sun drifted over the horizon.
        Almost an hour later, Mulder's parents had shown up,
to find Scully, Melissa and Margaret gathered in their son's
room. There had been a little confusion, and some yelling,
but Scully had taken them aside, and spoken to them. Mrs.
Mulder had been a bit more forgiving, but Mr. Mulder's eyes
had turned cold when he found out she was Mulder's partner.
        "What happened?" Mrs. Mulder asked. Scully stared at
the older woman. She had snow white hair, was slim and
slightly short in stature. Her face registered complete and
absolute sadness, and Scully immediately felt for the woman.
She had said good-bye to her baby girl, and now she might
watch her son die.
        "He was in a car accident. He's in a coma, and- he
could be this way forever," she said softly, her voice
reserved.
        Mr. Mulder snorted. "Who are all these people- how
did you get in here?"
        Scully's eyes went cold, as she stared at him. He
was tall, with a face that had hardened to a mask over the
years. His nose curved like a beak, and his gray eyes were
those of a hunter's. His salt-and pepper hair was receding,
and he reminded her a little of Deep Throat. "This is my
mother, Margaret, and this is my sister, Melissa. They knew
Mulder, also."
        Mr. Mulder seemed nonplused. "He isn't going to make
it."
        "You can't think like that-"
        "He was always a weakling. Joined the FBI, and had
to use a gun. Always sick when he was a kid, had that snide
attitude. Didn't know how to make good judgments, and then
he started spouting off that d*mned UFO crap. We should have
put him away a long time ago," he complained.
        Scully took a step back, preparing to go on the
defense for Mulder, but his mother took up the cause first.
"Would you shut your Godd*mned mouth for once? You crazy old
coot. You're the one we should have put away!" she
exclaimed. Mrs. Mulder's voice wasn't equipped right for
arguing, or yelling. She was a soft-spoken woman who didn't
have the voice to yell.
        "Look, you're both reasonably upset, why don't you
just go find a motel room, and let things cool down,"
Melissa said softly.
        Mr. Mulder snorted. "You don't even know what this
is about. He wouldn't be such a weakling if he had lived
with me. He'd be as strong and healthy as a horse. And he
wouldn't be lying there in one of these d*mned comas with
all your fancy equipment around him!"
        "You're divorced?" Scully asked smally. She wondered
briefly how it must have been for Mulder. Had his parents
always been this way? The older man's nostrils flared, and
he stalked out of the room.
        Mrs. Mulder turned, and looked at her son, stroking
his head fondly. "Yes, it happened about a year after
Samantha disappeared. I got full custody of Fox. Good thing.
Bill always blamed him for Samantha. He still does, I think.
I'm sorry. He's usually not this bad." She paused, staring
regretfully at her son. "How long have you and Fox been
partners?"
        "Almost four years," Scully replied.
        She nodded. "Mulder almost never had contact with
either of us. He's lucky to have someone like you. Most
people would take it with a gasp, and then ignore it," she
explained softly.
        At that point Scully had decided to leave.
        Now she sank onto her bed, and drew the blinds. She
wanted to sleep, she needed sleep. But try as she might, she
couldn't. It was probably better that way. She might not
have found the note if she hadn't picked up her paper.
        Clad only in a robe and sleeveless white nightgown,
she opened the door, and picked it up. A yellow post-it note
was smeared across the paper, which had some hurried,
scribbled writing on it.  She squinted, and made out the
words.
        Top right drawer. Mulder was murdered.
        On the back was a telephone number. It was Mulder's.
        She knew immediately what she had to do.

Alexandria, VA
May 14

        Scully removed the key to Mulder's apartment from
her purse. She was dressed in a pair of loose tan slacks, a
blousy white shirt, and a tan blazer with matching heels and
purse. Her long raincoat was undone, and it flew around her
like a cape. His paper had been delivered that morning, but
Scully found nothing in it. She opened the heavy oak door,
and looked inside.
        The entire place had been turned topsy-turvey,
things strewn about, pictures and files scattered on the
floor. One of the glass panels in his coffee table was
broken. She stepped around the glass shards, from both the
table and shattered picture frames, making her way over to
his computer. Her heels crunched into broken glass, and it
sounded strange in the eerie silence that blanketed the
apartment. She picked up the keyboard from the ground, and
brushed the glass off of a gray swivel chair. She perched
nervously on the edge, and opened the drawer nervously. in
it was a small file folder. She tucked it under her arm, and
stood. The crunch of glass behind made her freeze, though.
Glad for the long raincoat, she pulled it around her, hoping
the folder wouldn't slip from under her arm.
        When she turned, she was face to face with Mulder's
father. His eyes were a cold gray, and they made her feel
uneasy.
        "What are you doing- how did you get in here?" he
asked, his voice rock hard. She mentally wondered if
Mulder's father had been a cop. He sounded like he was
interrogating a drug pusher.
        She took a deep breath. "I was coming to feed his
fish, I have a key. I found the apartment like this," she
said, trying to keep her voice even. It was difficult not to
stammer under this man's cold gaze. She had used the fish-
feeding line before, but Mr. Mulder wasn't buying it.
        "He won't need fish- he's dead. You're just
prolonging a wasted life by keeping him on life support.
Fish by God. Needs you and a little pet to keep him
company," he muttered.
        Scully furrowed her brows. "Why don't you like him?
He's your son," she asked softly.
        Mr. Mulder snorted. "I don't believe that he ever
felt any blame for what happened to Samantha. Before or
after. Oh he pretends. He keeps pictures of her around, he
pretends he feels guilty, but he doesn't.
        "Family is very important, Miss Scully. Fox didn't
believe that, though."
        "Yes he did!" She found herself defending him by
nature. "Mulder always felt he was responsible for Samantha-
"
        "Then why did he let her go? Why are you more
important than her?"
        Scully stepped back, her brows furrowing. The middle
of her thigh caught on the edge of Mulder's desk. "What are
you talking about?"
        "When Samantha came back, when we finally thought we
had found her, and that she wouldn't leave us again- he let
them take her. He let that man kill her instead of you. He
let them do that to her!
        "Why are you more important than my baby girl?
What's so special about you that Fox would rather let her
die than you?"
        "I- I don't know," she stuttered. She now knew where
Mulder got his temper from.
        "Why are you more important to him than his own
family?" the old man was yelling now.
        Scully stepped to the right, and slipped behind the
man. "I don't know!" she said again, fleeing. What else
could she do? She certainly couldn't change this man's mind.
He had been bitter for far too long to know how to do
anything else but blame.
        She hoped Mulder wasn't like that.

        Once she was home again, she opened the file.
        Three nights ago, a victim had been found in his Los
Angeles flat, all the doors and windows locked, with no
apparent cause of death. Three days earlier, another victim
had been found, this one in her penthouse apartment, with a
high tech laser security system. The cause of death was
being listed as heart attack, although each victim was in
top physical condition. In each case, the victim had been
found near the phone, which was off the hook. Puzzling,
intriguing, but what did this have to do with Mulder? She
checked over the report again. It had been faxed to him by
the Violent Crimes Section, around midnight last night.
        A thought occurred to Scully, and she was on the
phone with the county sheriff's office in a minute getting
details.
        Mulder's car had been found a few streets over from
her apartment. The crash had occurred at around one-thirty
in the morning. Mulder had been going about eighty, when he
swerved, and hit the curb. The right tire blew out, and the
car had gone into a spin, eventually wrapping itself around
a tree. The sheriff promised a full report with pictures by
noon.
        Scully sat in her kitchen, staring at the cheery
wallpaper. It seemed so out of place, the sun shining
brightly in a blue sky, the yellow wallpaper. It should have
been a cold and dismal day. Her friend could die, there
shouldn't be sunlight!
        So Mulder had been faxed a case. He'd gone home to
pack, and was coming to inform her, when he'd met with
disaster. She was working the scenario out in her head,
trying to visualize her partner doing all these things, but
all she saw was Mulder, lying invalid in a hospital bed,
with no chance of life...
        Scully called the airport, and a minute later her
fax machine was spitting out a list of all the names of
people reserved for flights to LA. Mulder had two reserved
for them on the two am flight this morning.
        She felt sick to her stomach, as she glanced at the
clock. Only eleven. She went over the list of evidence in
her head. Everything fit into place with her first theory.
Mulder had gotten a fax from Violent Crimes, decided to take
up the case, gone home, packed a few things, and rushed to
come get her, resulting in his accident.
        Only two things didn't make sense- the first was the
note saying Mulder was murdered. Why would his informant tip
her off to a crime that wasn't committed? And the second was
Mulder's apartment. He usually kept the place pretty neat,
tidy, and there had been signs of a struggle in his
apartment- broken glass, picture frames...
        It wouldn't have been the first time an informant
had given them the wrong information. Deep Throat, a person
she trusted more than Mr. X, had done that. Mulder might
have blown the bulb in his apartment, and was stumbling
around in the dark.
        She felt sick to her stomach, and she wanted to go
back to the hospital. Maybe if she talked to Mulder, it
would become clear to her.
        When she reached Mulder's room, she saw three
members of the Lone Gunmen hanging around. Frohike smiled
softly at her a moment, and then his face returned to solemn
as he stared at Mulder. Scully watched. The room was getting
considerably crowded. Mulder's mother was sitting next to
her son, on hand clasping his. Margaret sat in a hard
plastic chair, her hands clasped in front of her. Melissa
stood at Mulder's left side, holding a crystal over the
center of his chest. Scully furrowed her brows, and
whispered to her mother. "What's she doing?"
        Margaret looked up. "I don't know. She thinks she
can reach him through that crystal," she said skeptically,
getting up. Margaret walked over to where Mrs. Mulder sat,
staring at her son. "Why don't you come with me, we can get
something to eat. You've been up all night," she said
gently. Mrs. Mulder looked up, her eyes noncomprehending,
and then followed Margaret. Scully took up residence in her
chair, and stared at Mulder.
        Byers stood in the doorway, tall and silent. He had
thick brown hair, and a thick brown mustache. Langy leaned
against the door. His long scraggly blond hair hung into his
eyes. Thick glasses with black frames rested on his face.
        Frohike stood at the foot of Mulder's bed, hands
clasped in front of him.
        "Mulder says hi," Melissa said solemnly.
        Scully pursed her lips. "There would have been a
change in his brainwaves," she said.
        Melissa tilted her head, and looked at Mulder's
face. "That's what he said when you were in his place."
        She shook her head. "Mulder didn't- doesn't have a
skeptic bone in his body," she said. The slip to past tense
in her voice made her stomach flip. He's not dead, he's not
dead...
        "You can feel his spirit here," Melissa continued.
She placed a hand a few inches above Mulder's chest.

        In the darkness, Mulder felt something. He was
nowhere and everywhere at the same time. But it was dark. A
dull gray light shone in the distance, but it was far away.
Then suddenly, he felt something. A pinprick in his chest, a
tugging, a pulling. He glanced down. Something warm inside.
Warm and desperate. Two tiny points of light were there. A
moment later a third joined them. Then a fourth and a fifth.
Mulder smiled. It was cold here, and the small lights were
warming him, and at the same time imploring him. He glanced
at the gray light in the distance. If he could reach it, if
he could stand under that gray light, he would be warm. And
it was so cold. He took a step, and seemed a world nearer to
the light. Another step, and another. Walking towards the
light, urged on by the warmth. Go to it, return to us...
        A pinpoint left. Another backed off, and a third and
fourth. Only one beam stayed there, but it wasn't enough to
make him move.
        And then that winked out and was gone.

        Scully sat back down in the chair. "Um, can you all
give me a minute alone with him?" she asked softly.
        Frohike backed off, nodding his head in almost a
bow, and left. Langy followed.
        "You wanna go get a cup of coffee?" Byers asked.
Melissa turned to look at him, and then back at her sister.
        "I'll be all right, go," she said. When they had
left her alone, Scully shut the "door". Mulder had his own
"room" blocked off to the rest of them, and sh was
completely alone.
        Scully stared at her partner. A swelling purple
bruise was stamped across his forehead, lined by two small
scratches on his right cheek. Wires were in his arm, and he
was breathing through force. His heart rate stayed normal.
Beep, a few seconds, another beep. His brainwaves remained
monotone. She touched the bruise at his head, and stared at
the monitor. No reaction. then she took his hand. She
glanced at his fingers. Less than twenty-four hours ago she
had asked him if he'd played the piano. Now those soft hands
that looked as skilled as a musicians were still, and the
thought that they might never move again left her cold.
        She held his hand in her own, entwining their
fingers. "You can't leave me like this, Mulder. You can't do
this. I don't know if you can hear me, but don't leave. I
need you, and you can't leave me," she said. She reached
their hands up, and kissed the back of his. "You have to
come back, and you have to do it soon." She closed her eyes,
and rubbed his hand against her face, as if she could
transfer the warmth and life into him, and he would wake up.
        He didn't, of course.

        Scully wandered through the parking garage, trying
to remember where she had parked her car. She kept feeling
sick though, and it wasn't just emotional sickness. It was a
swelling pain that drifted throughout her stomach, and
gnawed at her insides. She paused by a post, resting against
one side. A dark black sedan pulled up, and the door opened
in front of her. "Agent Scully," a male voice said. It was
deep and even, and she knew immediately who it belonged to.
She squinted, trying to see the face of the driver in the
dim lights. She crawled into the car, and shut the door. The
car did a 180 degree turn, and parked behind a storage room.
The driver set the car in park, and turned to her.
        Mr. X was seated in the driver's seat, cool and
calm. His dark skin seemed to make him fit right in the
shadows, the slightly receding hair scrunched and curled,
and the beginnings of a beard looked greasy.
        Scully began. "What do you mean Mulder was murdered?
There's nothing to suggest-"
        A tape was shoved in the car stereo.
        "911 Operator, may I help you?"
        "Yes, I'd like to report a disturbance."
        "Okay ma'am, where are you?"
        "I'm at twenty-six Scott street, apartment 41.
There's been some shouts across the hall, and I think I
heard a gun go off."
        The tape came out, and was reinserted in the dark
black trenchcoat he wore. "Did you get the file?"
        "Yes," she replied. "I still don't understand why
you said he was murdered. All evidence, save the report and
the shape his apartment was in leads to a different
conclusion. He got a file, went home, packed, and was on his
way to tell me when he got in the accident- there were two
seats reserved under his name on a two am flight to L.A."
        Dark eyes narrowed. "Why would he leave that file in
the top drawer of his apartment, then?"
        Scully paused.
        "There are too many loopholes in your theory, Agent
Scully."
        "I don't care if he was murdered- it doesn't matter
finding the killer to me. I just want him to be all right!"
she exclaimed.
        Mr. X was still a moment. He turned his head out the
window, and the silence was terrifying. When he turned back,
his expression had changed. "The only way you can help him
is through her. Her name is Penelope Melicin. The last
numbers dialed on all the phones was hers. It's dangerous,
though. She's a computer analyst. Agent Mulder was trying to
protect you. He was trying to warn you. There are certain
people who do not want you to investigate this situation.
Melicin has achieved something called SIVR. Because of your
background, you might be able to convince her to use it to
save Mulder's life."
        "How?"
        "You'll have to find that out for yourself."
        "Thank you," Scully said softly.
        Mr. X merely blinked, as she stood, and got out of
the car. "Watch your back, Agent Scully. You're pursuing a
deadly lead. If you're not careful, you could end up just
like Agent Mulder."
        His last words followed her all the way to her car.
        "Or worse."

Los Angeles
May 14
12:12 AM

        Penelope turned in her seat, and sighed heavily. No
one there. She had been getting kind of paranoid these days.
She had been paranoid about everything ever since
discovering SIVR. She slipped her VR glasses onto the top of
her head, one long leg dangling over the side of the swivel
chair. The phone beside her rang.
        "Penelope," the voice came. It was hinted with an
English accent, and had arrogance she hated.
        "What do you want, Sandar?" she said, trying her
best to edge her voice with malice, although she could carry
out no threat.
        Penelope had found Russell Sandar sitting in her
apartment one night, appointing himself her new contact to
the real project leaders, as if she wanted one in the first
place. Sandar was suave and tactless. Penelope couldn't
stand him, but she had to trust him. Graham trusted him, and
he was usually a good judge of character. Whereas Dr.
Burnstein had been tolerable, had actually cared about her,
or at least about making sure she didn't end up like him,
Sandar could care less about giving her the knowledge to do
anything. Like Burnstein, she knew he was expendable. He
didn't really know what was going on, either. Penelope
wondered how she could be at the center of a secret project,
and not know the secret.
        She could almost see Sandar smirking on the other
end of the phone. "Touchy, aren't we? Is it that time?"
        She seethed, trying to hold back her anger. She
hated it when people could do the littlest things to tick
her off, and it would immediately get on her nerves. Sandar
had that ability, and used it to his fullest advantage.
"Shut-up, just tell me why you're calling me at midnight and
preventing me from doing other things."
        Sandar snorted, "Like you've got so many other
things to do- playing on your computer."
        Penelope closed her eyes. One day she was going to
send this guy into SIVR, where he'd be suspended over a pit
of half-starved crocodiles. The thought left her smiling.
"Get to the point, Russell."
        "How touching, she called me by my first name- tell
me, am I allowed to use your given-name?" he said
sarcastically. Everything about Sandar was razors laced with
poison and sarcasm, and tonight he was being especially
moody towards her.
        "Sandar, what do you want?" she asked, a whining
note creeping into her voice.
        He sniffed. "Well, I wouldn't like to be the cause
of a woman whining- can't stand those clingy types-"
        "Sandar!"
        "Yes, definitely that time of the month. Well, I
just called to inform you that there is a woman flying out
from Washington D.C., who'll be there to talk to you first
thing in the morning," he said snootily.
        "Who is she?"
        "An FBI Agent. She's going to ask you about SIVR.
You will tell her nothing."
        "Whoa, whoa, whoa! FBI? Why is she coming out here?"
        "The answer is tragic- several of those involved in
Project Mammalia exterminated her partner- he's comatose.
Someone told her about your project, she thinks you might be
able to help bring him back."
        Penelope shook her head. "I can't bring people out
of comas-"
        "You're not even going to talk to this woman, do you
understand? As far as you know, there is no SIVR. There is
no Project."
        Penelope swallowed. "But-"
        "Her partner is a renegade, he's been like that for
a long time- a loose cannon. He received information about
your precious SIVR, and was coming to check it out with his
partner. We wished him exterminated, hence it happened."
        "Does she know the what they did?"
        "She knows someone did something to her partner, but
she knows nothing of Project Mammalia or SIVR- it's just a
term to her, and it is to remain that way, understand?"
        Penelope bit her bottom lip. "Why is she coming out
here then?"
        The arrogance was one hundred percent in Sandar's
next words, "I don't know, loyalty, something like that.
Maybe she was sleeping with him. Inter-office relationships
are all to often in today's society. You'd think these
people couldn't go out and find their own mates."
        She blinked, and her heart went out to the woman she
didn't even know. She had lost people close to her, and she
immediately felt sorry for the woman.
        "Penelope, don't even think about it," Sandar said,
as if he could read her mind. "You will say nothing to her,
show no sign you know her, or SIVR or anything else she
mentions to you. You're Penelope Melicin. No, you don't know
anything about SIVR. No, you can't help her. No you can't
help her," he repeated, as if to make sure that last line
remained firm in Penelope's head.
        A click and dial tone ran in her ear, and she set
the phone back on the jack.
        Surviving in the project meant turning your back on
people. No matter how much your heart protested you help.
Your feelings didn't count, your life did.
        The next question Penelope asked herself scared her.
        What's the purpose of life if you're not allowed to
feel?

Washington, D.C.
1:07 PM

        Scully dropped by the police department to pick up
the file. The sheriff, a tall blond woman with a pleasant
expression, didn't give Scully any trouble. It was okay. She
needed time to prepare for her next battle.
        Once in the safety of her apartment, she tore open
the file, and began rummaging through it. The file didn't
say anything interesting. The car had been found wrapped
around the tree, there were pictures to go with it.
Something about the picture of his car was wriggling at the
back of her mind. A detail she was missing. She glanced at a
picture of the backseat of the car. Something she was
missing...
        But the more she studied it, the more it bothered
her. There was something wrong. She glanced again at the
backseat, and then finally noted it. On the white middle
leather seating of the Sedan, there were several tiny holes,
with pinpoints of yellow fabric coming through.
        Mulder usually took care of his car, his things, and
she had ridden in his car hundreds of times before, and
never noticed these holes. Only the windshield had been
shattered, and there was no glass on the seat, save for a
few fragments on the floor- but their edges were two big to
make these paired holes. Five to be precise. Five lined in a
half-circular pattern on one side, another half-circle to
the rear, and two more on the other side. If she hadn't
known better, she could have sworn they were cat claw marks.
She took the other picture again, and realized what was
wrong with it. The back window was rolled halfway down. Why
would he have the window down? It meant something, she was
sure of it. If only Mulder was here, he could help her. He
would be able to pick up the connection where she'd left
off. She yearned for him now, as a partner, as someone with
more experience who might be able to help her decipher this
bizarre mystery.
        Scully glanced at her watch. It was close to one,
and she had to see Skinner. God only knew what he'd have to
say about this.

        "Sir," she mumbled. Scully stood in the doorway of
Assistant Director Skinner's tan office. She hated the way
this place always reminded her of the principal's office.
She clasped her hands in front of her, and waited for his
recognition of her presence.
        When it did not come, she said a bit louder, "Sir?"
        Skinner put his pen down, and looked at the doorway,
his eyes questioning her.
        "Your secretary told me to wait until she'd finished
her lunch break, but I couldn't, sir, it's urgent."
        "Have a seat."
        Halfway there, he began to talk. "You went AWOL this
morning, Agent Scully."
        "Yes, sir, I know. I had forgotten to call in sick
under the circumstances," she said softly. This was not what
she wanted to discuss.
        "Which are?"
        She paused. He knew what the circumstances were.
"Agent Mulder's car accident last night. I came directly
from my house, and I didn't get any sleep last night."
        He nodded, and picked up his pen again. "Sir, that's
not what I came here to talk to you about. I've requested
assignment on a case Agent Mulder picked up before his
accident."
        Skinner dropped the pen.
        "I wanted to ask your immediate consent, if
possible," she said humbly, but firmly. Like her father had
taught her to speak when she wanted to express her opinion
to her meanest teacher, as politely as she could.
        Skinner steepled his fingers, and stared at her
through thin round spectacles. "I'm sorry, Agent Scully, but
under the circumstances, I don't feel I should authorize
your investigation."
        "With respect, sir, why?"
        He sighed, and  leaned back in the chair. "Agent
Scully- Dana, I know that Mulder's accident has upset you,
but I can't justify sending you into the field, when I don't
think you're emotionally stable enough to do so. You said
before you were too upset to call in with your leave of
absence, and that you didn't get any sleep last night. I'm
not asking you now, I'm ordering you, to take some time. I
know you and Mulder are close- just how close I'm not sure,
but I don't think you should be working just yet," he said,
his voice quiet and reserved.
        Funny, she thought, Mulder had told her the same
thing, well almost the same thing, when her father died.
        She stared at the mahogany desk in front of her for
a moment, reassuring herself. Mulder's not dead. He's alive,
he can live. The more she told herself this the bigger the
lump in her throat. She couldn't swallow it, and she stood,
moving with all her care and grace to the door.
Dana was very proud of herself.
        She didn't feel tears well up until she was safely
in Mulder's office.
        The entire place reminded her of him, of his
mission, of his ideas. And she knew she had to get him back,
no matter what.

8:03 PM
         Scully visited Mulder that night, to say good-bye.
No one was there, thank God, and she was alone with him. She
drew the curtain, and stood over his bedside. She frowned as
she went over his face in her mind. She was trying to keep
it there, to reinforce herself if she dare question why she
was doing this. She had to do this, for him. He would have
done the same for her, or more.
        The frown deepened when she looked at the scratch
marks. They weren't deep, and there were no other marks on
his face. Glass would have hit deeper into his face. And
these marks were close together, and scabbing. They would
leave a small mark, if any at all. It looked almost as if
someone had scratched him. She sighed, and decided to ignore
it for now. She rubbed his face with her palm softly. "I'm
sorry, Mulder," she whispered. "I'll be back. Don't worry,
I'm doing everything I can. Just hang in there, please, for
me." She rubbed his cheek softly, and then bent her head
over, and gently kissed his forehead.
        "Trust me, Mulder. I'll do whatever I can," she
whispered, against his forehead, as if to commit her words
to his memory. She pulled her hand down his neck, resting it
lightly at the top of his chest, just over his heart, as she
erected her form. "I promise, Mulder. I'll get you out of
this."
        Those were her last words as she left.

        Mulder stood in the blackness.
        He was confused.
        So far he had been heading towards the gray light,
the only light he saw, but now, he saw another one. Far in
the distance, there was a golden light, shining with a
radiance that illuminated the blackness a bit. He could even
feel a little bit of its immense warmth standing where he
was in the dark. But it was in the opposite direction of the
gray he'd been heading for. Now he felt a warm feeling in
his chest, more powerful than the pinpoints of before.
        "Trust me Mulder," the words floated from space, and
echoed in the void. A soft voice, a voice he knew from
before, from wherever he was before he had heard it. He
tried to remember. He tried to bring a face to the voice,
but he couldn't. But the person was the same person that had
brought him this warmth. That person was a friend.
        "I'll do whatever I can," the voice said again. He
believed it. This person would help him escape this dark
place. But which way to go? His body felt incredibly warm,
not only from the brighter light, but from the inner warmth
the voice gave to him. He was thriving on it, glowing in its
brightness. It was sustaining him in a cold place where hope
was lost. A lot of people had been in this cold place. And
they had faded before they ever reached the light. Not many
had passed into that gray light, even though it was the
closest. Would he be warm in that gray light? Would he be as
warm there as he would be in the golden light. He didn't
know, and he wanted direction.
        "Help me!" he called, hoping the voice could hear.
His words echoed all around. "Where do I go? Where are you?"
he asked.
        Silence answered him, and the golden light was
fading. He took a step into the darkness. "Where are you?"
he cried. But no one could answer him. With the warmth from
the fading light, he turned and took a step.
        He wanted to talk to the person. He had to talk to
that person.
        A part of him knew that she was the only one who
could help him.

        Scully felt sick on the flight, the same terrible
sickness she had felt in the parking garage. She usually
didn't get air sick- quite the opposite, it was usually her
partner who fared ill during traveling. The thought of him
brought a new twist into her stomach. She leaned back in the
seat, and wondered what was wrong with her.
        Nervousness, she told herself. Scully had told no
one of the journey she was going to embark on. It was
usually her partner who broke security rules, Skinner's
rules, everyone's rules. Not her. She usually tried to keep
him in line. Breaking rules was strange and oddly exciting
to her.
        She stared out the window into the darkness of the
sky, aware that she was burning a bridge she would rather
have not. But her reason couldn't have been more important,
or as imperative. Her thoughts gradually returned to the
mystery posed by Mulder's car, the 911 call and his trashed
apartment. She wished she would have gotten a better look
around Mulder's apartment. There might be valuable clues
there, as to who had done this to him. She didn't want
revenge, but now she was watching to make sure they didn't
do the same to her. Mr. X had said it was a deadly lead, and
that Mulder had been trying to protect her from ending up
like him. The car, with the tiny scratches like the ones on
his face, and the window half down. She wondered if maybe
his death had been accidental after all. What if a cat had
found its way into his car, and had distracted him from the
road? It was the most plausible theory, but plausibility had
its holes. Why the 911 call? Why the trashed apartment?
        She had tried to get information on Penelope
Melicin, but it was as if her whole life was classified. No
information on her parents, nothing about her discovery of
SIVR, whatever that was. All she found was that her father
had perished in a car accident, all information on the dates
was unclear. Penelope Melicin was a computer analyst for
only about a month or so, her mother was in a nursing home,
her father tried to kill her. The reason for that was
unclear, too. Penelope's life was a bunch of holes. She'd
never been in trouble with the law, she lived in an
apartment in L.A. Her computer referenced VR as a common
term for Virtual Reality, and it stated that SIVR did not
exist.
        Great, she thought sarcastically. Mr. X was sending
her to some computer junkie who'd discovered SIVR. How was
THAT supposed to help Mulder?
        She'd had her computer cross-reference everything
twice, but virtual reality was the only term it could come
up with for VR.
        Don't turn skeptical yet, Dana, she calmed herself.
You still have to try it- for Mulder's sake.
        But she couldn't help her disbelief that this
Penelope Melicin could in any way help her partner. What was
virtual reality going to do for him? Would he even respond
to it?
        Scully tried to stop her skeptical thinking for
once. If she was skeptical, Penelope might not help her, if
she was even going to help her in the first place.
        The thrum of the engines in her ears became a drone
as she dozed off to sleep.

        Scully was in a field. A wide green field that
stretched into eternity. She blinked, and saw the small
round gray headstones. A cemetery. She was standing in front
of two graves that seemed set apart, solitary on this large
hill. One read her name.
        Dana Katherine Scully 1964-1995.
        The other was Mulder's. ÷    Fox William Mulder 1961-
1995.
        But she wasn't upset about seeing her tombstone, or
his. She felt detached from all of it, as if she knew it was
a dream. She reached out and ran her hand down the curved
path of the tombstone. It was hard, and cold under her
touch. It was real enough. She knelt in the grass between
their graves. She felt the grass near hers, and gasped as
she almost fell in. It was almost like a trap, a trap she
was going to fall into, literally. She pushed on Mulder's
grave, but it didn't fall in like hers. It was hard and
even. The grass was wet from cool spring dew, and her bare
feet slid into it. It was then she realized she was dressed
in a long black dress. It wasn't like a mourning dress,
though. If it was, she'd have black lace, a hat, a veil. It
was more like the kind of dress you'd wear to a fancy party.
She glanced at the sky. It was bleak and gray. She lay down
over Mulder's grave, feeling the dew soak the back of her
dress. It was peaceful, comfortable here.
        "I need you," the voice whispered. It spoke in her
ear, and it sounded like it had come from his tombstone. She
rolled onto her stomach, and traced the letters of her
partner's name with her index finger. "I need you, Dana,"
the voice repeated. The tombstone vibrated under her touch.
"I need you to help me," he called. She felt the earth split
open underneath her. "I need you." Blackness was underneath
her. But Mulder was there. Mulder needed her. She had to
come. She wedged her body between the crack in the earth,
sliding past the brown earth, until she came to the edge of
the darkness. She felt a little like Skywoman, in the
ancient Iroquois legend about the woman who dug under a tree
until she fell into another world. But no one had summoned
Skywoman. Mulder needed her, she had to go.
        "I'm coming, I'm coming," she said, pushing herself
down in the small crack. Dirt rubbed against her skin, but
she could see the darkness beneath her.
        His voice echoed up. "Come to me, Dana. I need you."
        She paused. There was something wrong with it now.
There was a hunger in it, a desperate need she knew she
could never fulfill for him.
        "I need you," he begged. Something in his voice
became raw, and she felt herself being tugged downward by
unseen hands.
        "I can't- I can't!" she cried, pulling at the ground
above her, clawing at roots and grass and dirt. Anything to
escape that dark hole where she wouldn't be herself, she
would be someone, something else.
        That was her greatest fear. She had gone through an
identity crisis, where she didn't know where she fit in, who
she belonged with once. It had been the most depressing
period in her life. Dana had been incredibly advanced for
her years. On her thirteenth birthday, she could remember
that she had been terribly depressed, and that she had cried
because she didn't feel her life was worth living. Because
she didn't belong anywhere, and she most needed to belong
someplace.
        It had taken her a long time to realize who she was
and once she had found that, she knew that she could never
be anyone else. Facades were hard and straining to carry on,
and she didn't want to play them.
        But the voice was begging her, pleading for her to
be the person it needed.
        Dana stared at gray sky above, reaching for
daylight...

        Sculy awoke with a start on the plane.
        She lashed out at everything around her on the
plane, upsetting the file that had been tilting precariously
on the arm of the seat. She looked over, and wondered
briefly where Mulder was.
        Memory hit her hard, shoving her headlong back into
reality. The car accident, the phone call, the scratch.
        She scowled and looked out the window. What was it
about those scratches that made her mind keep returning to
them? There was certainly nothing unusual about a person
getting scratches in a car accident, and maybe there had
been some glass that made the pinpoints in the seat.
        But the glass pieces had thick sharp edges, her mind
told her. Then what was it? There was some kind of
connection that she was missing. She needed the one piece
that would make the entire thing make sense to her mind. She
wondered if they had found any cat hairs in the car, and
made a mental not to call the garage when she reached L.A.
        That thought brought her back to Penelope Melicin.
Who was this woman? She had been born in 1966, so that made
her twenty-eight, but, what could a computer analyst do to
help bring him out of a coma? She stared out the darkened
window, and wondered about the varasity of her own claims.
Mr. X had told her she was on a dangerous lead, and that her
partner had been trying to protect her. If that was os,
where did it leave her, going to L.A. instead of staying, to
make sure no one tried to make him stay silent- for good.
What good would it do even if Melicin ended up having
something that would help him? By the time she brought it
back, and used it on him, it might be too late.
        Time is of the essence, she realized, staring out
over the dark night. She fixed her watch on California time,
and wondered how she was going to make it the next few
hours. The nightmare had frightened her beyond belief, but
she couldn't remember what it had been about. The unknown
scared her the most and if she couldn't even remember what
the nightmare ad been about, it must have been particularly
horrible. So horrible that she'd rather face the unknown
than the monster that had been pulling at her in her dreams.
She wondered if this was what it was like for Mulder. To
have a nightmare so terrible that you didn't want to go back
to sleep for fear you would have to face that monster, your
own demon that knew your thoughts and fears, and used them
against you. She had never experienced a dream like this
before, and now she was positive she didn't want to do it
again.
        Scully wondered if Mulder felt this way. She
wondered if he woke from nightmares like this, covered in
sweat, running from the monster. And then he had to face the
horrible reality that his monster was still out there, and
that it had his sister.
        She hoped he didn't wake up like this in the
hospital.

        Penelope awoke around seven to the sound of a
knocking on her door. It was polite, not banging, but loud
enough to rouse her from sleep. She stretched, and rubbed
the kink in her neck. She had spent the night curled in the
gray swivel executive chair, and her body ached over. Her
head hurt, and she stayed still a moment. But the knocking
was persistent- whoever was there wasn't going to go away.
Penelope furrowed her brows, and called out in a hoarse
voice, "I'm coming." She cleared her throat and stood,
twisting half of her body around, and stretching. She
stifled a yawn, and glanced down at her rumpled gray sweat
pants and undershirt. If it's anyone important, they deserve
finding me looking like this, for waking me up this early.
She opened the door a crack, and looked out.
        A short woman with hair that looked like gold on
fire stood in the door. She was dressed in a tan suit, and
her hair was mussed slightly. Penelope could tell from the
makeup that tried to conceal heavy bags under her eyes that
the woman hadn't slept a wink last night. She did a mental
check, before she remembered what Sandar had told her about
an FBI agent coming to see her. She also remembered what
else Sandar had told her. Penelope wondered if tears had
kept this woman awake last night. If he had been her lover,
it would be terrible to lose him like this.
        "Penelope Melicin?" she asked. Her voice was cold,
and detached; impersonal. A business-like tone for a woman
on a mission of mercy.
        Penelope opened the door wider and said, "Yes?"
        "I'm Special Agent Dana Scully, I'm with the FBI,
I'd like to ask you a few questions."
        Sandar's face haunted her for a minute, before
Penelope opened the door wide. "Sure, come in. What's this
all about?"
        "Do you know anything about SIVR?" Scully asked. Her
heart thundered in her ears. If Mr. X had sent her out here
for nothing- if Mulder was gone when she got back...
        Penelope licked her lips, and stared into the older
woman's crystal blue eyes. They looked at her in almost a
silent plea. "Why?" she asked, stalling. She had to find a
piece of paper. She had to find some way to talk without
being heard. She couldn't turn her back on this woman, no
matter what Sandar said.
        "It's essential to a case I'm working on, Ms.
Melicin. An FBI agent was almost killed back in Washington,
and we understand that SIVR may have something to do with
it," Scully said, trying to sound as professional as she
could. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a computer
system to outdo all PCs. It had several monitors, mouses,
keyboards, everything. Penelope clicked a ballpoint pen, and
wrote furiously a minute, while Scully eyed the black
glasses that were too large for a woman or a man's face, and
black gloves.
        Penelope turned back, folded the paper, and gave it
to Scully. "I'm sorry, Agent Scully, I've never heard of the
term," she said, handing the yellow sheet to the agent, and
winking. "I wish I could have been of more assistance."
        Scully read the note, and then searched the younger
woman's eyes a moment, and nodded. "It's all right, Ms.
Melicin," she said absentmindedly. "If you do come into
knowledge about it, please call me," she said, scribbling
the hotel address and phone number on the back of the piece
of paper, and shoving it in Penelope's face.
        Penelope nodded. "All right, good-bye." A fake
enough closing. She only hoped she was as good an actress
that Sandar would believe it.

        An hour later, Scully waited in her hotel room.
Penelope had said she would meet her there, but Scully
didn't like waiting. All she could think about was the time
Mulder was losing while Penelope was taking too long. After
waking up from a coma herself, she felt as if she had lost a
bit of her life, and she never wanted to feel that way
again. Someone had taken something from her that she could
never get back. She sprawled on the bed, yawning. Sleep
hadn't come over her after her nightmare on the plane, and
she was desperately tired. The phone beside her bed rang.
She stared at the stucco ceiling, hearing the long ring. It
reminded her of the phone call she had gotten in the middle
of the night. Scully realized she was going to wear herself
out, running around, getting no sleep. She contemplated for
a moment why she was even out here in L.A. She was
disobeying Skinner's direct orders- she must be crazy. Maybe
it was stress, or lack of sleep...
        No, it wasn't any of those things. Mulder needed her
help, and she wasn't going to let him down. She couldn't let
him down. That was unthinkable. He wouldn't desert her when
she needed him- he would do anything for her, and she
couldn't turn her back on him.
        Scully sighed, and listened to another ring. She
remembered when she had told Mulder that he was the only
person she would risk her job for. He knew her job meant a
great deal to her, and she thought it was time she proved
what she had earlier professed.
        She glanced at the white phone that seemed to shake
with the force of the ring. She reached over, her hand on
the receiver of the white hotel phone. She picked it up
hesitantly, and pressed it to her ear.
        "Hello?"
        A small click, and then Scully saw swirls.
Everything was spinning around her, purple and gray, and
blue and pink, there was no hotel room, just this spinning
tornado. She felt as if she was in the middle of a DNA
double helix, staring out. Everything had a silicon feel to
it, too smooth, and too perfect. She was twisting around in
this place, feeling like Alice falling down the rabbit hole.
But she was rushing, hurrying someplace, and something told
her she wouldn't float. She wasn't falling, she was surging,
towards a world that was strange and exciting, and
incredibly new. A place where anything and everything could
and would happen....
        She felt her breath give way, and when she blinked
she saw the world around her. It was the hotel room, still,
but it was different from the hotel room. Everything looked
charged, as if it had an inner electric energy of its own.
She looked around the room, and saw the mirror on the wall
catch her reflection. She looked different somehow. Her hair
was brighter, her eyes looked different.
        She was scaring herself. What was this place? What
had happened?
        "Who are you?" a familiar voice asked.
        Scully turned around, and saw the lax woman.
        Penelope was pleased with the way she looked. Her
gray sweats and matching undershirt told her that Scully
hadn't made any assumptions about her, or formed an opinion.
        She repeated the question, "Who are you?"
        "I'm Dana Scully. Where are we?"
        "I don't know yet. Why did you ask me about SIVR?"
        "My friend- Fox Mulder was almost killed. He's in a
coma in Washington. Someone told me you could help him," she
disclosed.
        Penelope frowned. "How am I going to use SIVR to
help him?"
        "I don't know. My contact told me you could help him
though using SIVR."
        "I could contact him through SIVR. But it probably
wouldn't bring him out of the coma."
        Scully's face fell, and she turned back to the motel
bed. But instead of seeing it, she saw a hospital bed there.
Mulder lay in it, the monitors beeping. "I need you to help
him. Please, you're my only chance," Scully begged.
        Penelope bowed her head. "I'm sorry about your
friend. I can try to help him through VR, but it might not
work."
        "Why not? What is SIVR anyway?"
        "It's what you're in right now. Do you know about
the Project?"
        "No."
        "Was your contact from the Project?"
        "I don't know- I don't know what the Project is."
        "You came here to see if I could help your friend,
but there's something else surrounding this situation."
        "I have suspicions he may have been murdered."
        "Why?"
        "The government has been trying to get rid of him.
He's a loose end, he's seen a lot- with his knowledge, with
his proof, he could go public..."
        "I understand."
        "What is the Project?"
        "Two top secret projects. My contact is from a ring
of leaders that control both. I don't know that much about
them. They told me not to talk to you."
        "Why?"
        "I don't know."
        "Will you help me?"
        "Why should I?"
        Scully stared at the younger woman. "I need your
help. I'm not going to let them do this to him. I can't."
She stopped and searched for words. How could she explain
that Penelope was her only hope? How could she tell her what
Mulder's friendship meant to her, and how she had to save
him? "Is there any chance at all you can help him?"
        "Help him how?"
        "I don't know."
        "You want me to bring him into VR, and help him. I
need to know about things."
        "What things?"
        "What's your relationship with him like?"
        Scully paused. The thought that Mulder might not be
fighting to live shook her. "We're friends, very good
friends."
        "It sounds like there's more," Penelope dared. Her
eyes shone electric blue, and her hair was so blond it was
almost white.
        "I can't explain my relationship with Mulder. How
will you bring him into SIVR? How did you bring me in?"
        "I did it through my computer. SIVR is virtual
reality. I don't know how I brought you in, I don't know how
I bring anyone in. I just do it."
        "How can you bring him in if he doesn't have a body-
if he isn't conscious?"
        "I bring people's subconscious in. When you get
back, you'll only have a subconscious implant of what
happened- you'll know somewhere in your mind that this
happened."
        "Will you remember?"
        Penelope nodded. "Perfectly." Scully looked away,
and went to the side of Mulder's bed. She stared down at
him. The three small scratches stood cherry red on his
forehead. "You can get clues from your own subconscious,"
the younger woman said from behind her. Scully sat on the
edge of the bed, nodding to her. She reached up, and touched
his forehead. Those scratches, why were they so bright,
against a face that was pale in comparison. She wished he'd
open his eyes. She would give anything now to see hazel eyes
looking up at her. She rested a hand on his chest, over his
heart, willing it to beat on its own without the help of the
machines that surrounded him, and knowing her touch couldn't
do that.
        No matter how much she prayed it could. "Can you
help him? Is there a chance you can bring him back from
wherever he is?"
        Penelope's voice was subdued. "I don't know. If he's
in such a condition, I may not be able to reach him at all."
        "Does that mean you'll try?" she asked the younger
woman, hopefully.
        "I'll do what I can. My friend is on his way over to
see you. After you leave here, you won't remember any of
this. He'll explain what I told you, and call me with Fox's
number."
        Scully turned, and shook her head. "Don't call him
that. He hates that name. Call him Mulder."
        Penelope nodded. "I will. Is there anything he's
afraid of? I need to know, so I can recognize it when I'm in
VR with him."
        She glanced at her partner's bleak and unemotioned
face. "His sister disappeared when he was twelve. Mulder,
well, Mulder thinks she was abducted by aliens. I know it
sounds silly, but he believes in that type of thing, it's
like a religion for him."
        Something bubbled in Penelope, and she fought to
keep it down. "Do you think it's silly?"
        She shook her head. "No. He's the most dedicated
person I've ever seen. He still believes she's alive,"
Scully explained. Pain was clear across her face, as well as
in her body. Penelope understood that pain, and a part of
her knew she'd understand Mulder's as well- she had lost her
father and mother.
        "What's her name?"
        "Samantha."
        "Does he have a reason, is there a reason I can give
him if he tells me he doesn't want to live?"
        "He will want to live. He has to come back. He has
to find her," Scully said simply.
        Penelope nodded. "Is there anything you want me to
tell him for you, when I'm in VR with him?"
        "Tell him he has to come back, because I need him,
and because Samantha needs him. Tell him I'm doing
everything I can to find out who did this to him."
        "Anything else?"
        Scully bit back something, Penelope could tell. "No,
just tell him to come home."
        Penelope nodded, and reached out to brush a strand
of black silky hair from Mulder's forehead.
        Her hand crackled fire lightning, and she found
herself back in her apartment. She slipped her VR goggles
and gloves off, and typed in a new landscape.
        Mulder's Dream.
        Wherever that was, it was his territory, and he
controlled it there. That would probably be best. From what
Penelope had gathered, he was a pretty stable guy. Not like
some other people whose minds she'd gone into.
        Penelope reclined and waited for Graham to come back
with Scully.

        The tall man leaned back in the chair in his
cubbyhole of an office, listening to the static. D*mn.
Penelope had pulled her into SIVR. Sandar had said he'd told
her. That English idiot didn't know what was going on half
the time anyways. But he got the job done where Burnstein
had failed. Sandar never let his emotions, or personal
regrets get in the way of doing the job the Project ordered
him to do, because he knew the consequences otherwise. He
had a professional opinion about everything, and it was
labeled just that- strictly professional. Whereas Burnstein
had let his personal feelings on the Penelope Melicin
situation get in the way, Sandar was indifferent to the
woman.
        He dialed a number on his telephone. It rang several
times before the old man answered.
        "Yes?"
        "Melicin called her. Used VR. I don't know what's
going on."
        "Dammit! They'll ruin the entire project. What about
Johnson? Can he deter her?"
        "Possibly, but we'd have to fly him out from D.C.
before she goes back to talk to Melicin, or remembers
anything from VR."
        "Hold a minute, I've got a call."
        Silence on the man's end for five minutes. Then a
click, and the old man was back. "She checked out of her
hotel. We don't know what's going on now. Melicin's
boyfriend went there, and then she checked out. He came back
out with two suitcases, and went down into the subway- we
lost him in the crowd, and then when we went to check on
her, she had checked out. She slipped right past our
insiders, dammit! I could have hired another FBI agent for
Christ sake, and they would have done a better job!"
        "Stop raggin', we've gotta find her. If Mulder told
her anything, she's got valuable info that we need to erase,
before-"
        "You don't tell me what we need to do. Just keep
listening for info you can get across your little bug there,
and if you do a good job, maybe we won't stuff you in a
cubbyhole again. Maybe next time you can get the job of the
royal *ss-kisser, if you're really good, and I don't hear
anything else like that. He knew what we did to him last
time, and she'll know too. REMEMBER- we can't do jack until
they actually are a threat. He doesn't want her harmed, and
he's Johnson's boy. Until they start finding things we can't
control, we sit on 'em. Your job is to make sure they don't
interfere with Project SIVR or Project Mammalia. If she
makes any motion that says she's got something big out of
him in VR, instead of just trying to bring him back, that's
when we move.
        "You just remember this: you're the one who screwed
up with him, which is why you're sitting where you are now.
That's why you're not working head of Project Mammalia,
understand, *sshole? You never rub out a tool unless Johnson
tells you to!"
        A click, and the old man was gone.
        A second receiver slammed somewhere.

        Scully hung up the phone, feeling a bit sick to her
stomach. She felt confusion, dizziness, and a need to call
Mulder and make sure he was all right. To protect and
shelter him from an unseen enemy, and a most dangerous one.
        And to find out what the hell those scratches were
from. They were bothering her more than ever. They had to
hold some significance, and she needed to find out what, for
her sanity and Mulder's sake. She clutched her stomach,
feeling a sharp pain spring up in the midst of the dull ache
that had enraptured her belly since she'd gotten off the
plane.
        A knock sounded at the door, and she stood
reluctantly, to answer it. "Yes?"
        "Uh, you're Dana Scully?" A nod continued him on his
way. "I'm Pen's friend Graham. She told me to come and get
you, but secrecy is way important, so she wants you to wear
a disguise," he said.
        Graham was a tall man with shoulder-length dark
black hair, and the beginnings of a black mustache. Although
he was good-looking, the word handsome didn't fit him, as it
was too proper for the words that went through most females'
minds when they looked at him. Hot, yes, cute, yes, but
handsome... handsome was for tall distinguished men. Not
guys that looked like a cross between Brad Pitt and Alec
Baldwin. His blue eyes were bright in contrast the to the
dark black hair, and they should have looked stoned
slightly, by the way he sounded to her, but maybe it was
just the deep resonance of his voice.  A wide nose made up
for by high cheekbones characterized his face to one of the
better looking ones. He sounded like a deadhead, even looked
like one, in the baggy faded jean shorts, black sneakers,
and baggy white shirt. But there was something warm about
him that told her there was more to him than was let on. He
handed her a brown paper bag, and Scully looked inside. A
pair of baggy black jeans, a baggy black and blue flannel
shirt, and a pair of black sneakers. "Pen said to change
into this stuff before you come, so they don't know it's
you, and you'll have to come in my way."
        "Why? Who are they?"
        Graham shook his head, and ran a hand through black
hair to push it out of his face. "Pen will explain it all
when we get there, I promise. Gimme your stuff, and I'll put
it in the car while you change. Check out of the hotel, and
walk a block down the street. There's an alley there. I'll
be waiting there for you," he explained carefully, picking
up two suitcases nestled next to the door, and sauntering
back down the hall. She furrowed her brows, wanting to know
more, and satisfying her curiosity with the thought that she
would know later, just follow directions, so you can help
Mulder. That's all that matters now.

        She emerged from the hotel in the baggy jeans and
shirt that masked any trace of a womanly form. She had a
baseball cap pulled on her head, her hair tucked up into it.
She wore it front forward, keeping her head down. If they
were watching Penelope, they must also be watching her. The
outfit hung off of her, and she wore a leather belt to keep
the jeans from falling off her petite figure. She had put
her wallet into the pocket of the jeans, along with her gun.
Her holster and suit were stuffed into the paper bag, that
she carried in her right hand. She moved with long strides,
and then slowed her pace, not wanting to attract attention.
She reached the end of the block, and saw a small brown bug
of a car, Graham sitting in the driver's seat. He waved a
hand, and she sunk into the passenger seat next to him.

        Later, she stood on the roof of Penelope's apartment
building, Graham leading her around neon signs, tents, boxes
and a refridgerator stored on the gravel and tar roof.
        "Where are we going?"
        "Welcome to my sunny-day home," he said. "Enter at
your own risk. We go in through Pen's window. She knows
where they keep the bugs and she silenced 'um, if you get my
drift."
        A moment later, Scully, looking more like a college
girl in tomboy fashion than an FBI agent, was seated on the
hard, polished wood stairs in Penelope's apartment. Penelope
was still in the rumpled gray sweats, but had pulled on a
red flannel over the gray undershirt. Graham sat against the
desk that held the massive computer, his head leaning
against the side, his knees drawn to his chest. He bit into
an apple, and chomped totally unaware of himself while
Penelope explained SIVR to Scully. The concept was hard to
grasp. A totally different universe? Pulling someone's
subconscious into VR?
        This sounded like some fantasy Mulder cooked up.
"How are you going to pull him into VR?"
        They spoke in whispers.
        "Simple. I type in the scenery, in this case, it
will be whatever he comes up with as scenery, so we know
where he's coming from. Then I call his number, tell whoever
to put the phone to his ear, switch to my other modem line,
and we're in."
        "How will we know if it works?"
        "You can call the hospital, and ask someone how he
is. There'll probably be some irregularities in his brain
waves and/or heartbeats, and possibly several other physical
exertions," that answer came from Graham, who held off
taking a large bite of the apple cupped in his palm.
        Penelope stared at Scully a moment. "Did you make
travel plans to leave for Washington?"
        Scully shook her head no.
        "Call now. Charge one seat on the plane to
Washington. If they think you're not here, you'll be better
off, and you'll probably be all right here for two days at
the most before they realized what we pulled on them. Sandar
told me not to even talk to you. As long as he thinks I
still haven't, we're safe," Penelope said.
        Scully called, and paid for a ticket on a flight she
would never make.
        "Good. Call your partner's hospital room, and tell
the nurse, or his parents, or whoever's there to put the
phone to his ear. And as soon as I tell you, flick this
switch," she said, indicating a small black lightswitch
installed to the side of the main database. Penelope slipped
on her VR goggles and gloves. Scully stood, and picked up
Penelope's phone. Graham stood on Penelope's left side, and
then shrugged and sauntered out of the room.
        Scully gripped the phone tightly, and placed the
call. Nurse Wilkins answered. "Hello?"
        "Nurse Wilkins? It's Dana Scully. Can you put the
phone to Mulder's ear?"
        "Sure, Dana."
        A moment later, Scully heard a ruffle. "Hi, Mulder,"
she whispered, and flicked the switch to change modem lines.

        Penelope swirled through the twisting purple tunnel,
and emerged in a field. A black field. All around her was
cold, although she herself felt warm. Mulder stood in the
black. She recognized the man from Scully's VR encounter,
and surveyed the scenery. In the distance was a bright
golden light that emanated heat. And not to far away was
another light, only it was gray, and didn't give off as much
heat. Symbolism obvious, she spoke, "Hello, Mulder."
        He blinked at her, but didn't move. She had a
feeling he couldn't. "Who are you?"
        "I'm Penelope, I'm a friend. Dana sent me."
        Mulder furrowed his brows. "Who's Dana? I know I
know her, but I don't know what she looks like. Is Dana a
friend?"
        Penelope nodded. "Dana's your friend. She sent me
here to help you." She paused, and pursed her lips slightly.
        "It's cold here, Penelope," he said. His voice
sounded childlike, as if he had to strip away all the
falsities of being an adult to survive here. "I'm trying to
get there," he said, nodding towards the golden light. "It's
warm there."
        "You can't go there, Mulder. You have to go to that
light. The gray one. If you go there, you can go home."
        "Where's home?"
        "Home is with Dana. With your family, and your
friends," she explained.
        "Is Samantha there?"
        She shook her head. "I don't think so, Mulder."
        "Then I don't want to go back."
        "You have to, Mulder. You have to go back so you can
find Samantha."
        "If I don't go back, I can go to the other light,
and I'll know everything there. I'll know where Samantha is,
and then I can go to her," he explained his thinking.
        "No, Mulder. Dana needs you. She wants you to come
home, so does everyone else."
        He shook his head. "But it's warmer in the gold
light. There's more people there- I can find Samantha
there."
        "I know you want to find Samantha, Mulder. But this
isn't the way. You have to come back, Dana wants you to come
back. Would you come back for her?"
        He stared at the blackness eating his feet. Penelope
reached out to touch his hand, and the electricity crackled,
and she was back in her own world.
        But Penelope knew nothing.

        Penelope hated staring into Scully's blank and
emotionless face, because all she could see was the hope in
crystal blue eyes. Penelope sighed, and pulled the VR
glasses off, tossing them onto the keyboard, and hanging up
the phone.
        Scully remained patient for precisely five seconds.
Then she exploded into questions. "Did you find anything-
did you see him, is he all right?"
        Penelope chose her words carefully. "Mulder's all
right. He's- he's at a choosing point, he's choosing whether
to return to this world, or go to the next. That's all the
symbolism I can read in it," she said. She explained the
scenery she had seen in Mulder's dream.
        "Well, what did he choose?"
        The younger woman was silent a moment. "I don't
know, Dana, I was pulled out before I saw where he stepped."
        "Well, did you tell him he had to come back-"
        "I told him you wanted him to come back, even though
he could find Samantha in the golden light."
        Scully buried her face in her hands. "No! You don't
understand. The most important thing to Mulder is finding
her. It's his life's work, trying to find his sister. He
won't come back if you tell him he can find her there!" she
exclaimed. What she really wanted was to go into SIVR
herself. She knew she could talk to Mulder, convince him to
come back.
        Penelope shook her head. "I'm sorry, I didn't know.
Besides, while I was there, he seemed pretty immobile, like
he was too cold to move. I'm going to take him to a warm
place next time I go in."
        Scully stared at her. "When will that be?"
        Penelope shook her head. "Not for a while. Listen,
let's get you set up here."

        Scully awoke around four in the afternoon. The sky
outside the window was gray, and it looked like rain. She
sat up, and rubbed her head. Her bed was a futon and a downy
white comforter. She was downstairs, next to three large bay
windows that shone dim light in. She sighed heavily, and
stared at the ceiling beams above her head. It was only then
she realized how quiet it was. Thunder sounded outside, and
she stood, pushing the comforter away. She was dressed in a
pair of her own jeans, and a thin silk white blouse. Her
white-socked feet slipped slightly on the wooden floors. She
looked around. No Penelope, no Graham.
        "Hello?" she asked air. Silence responded, and she
found a note sitting on a small coffee table.
        Dana-
               Graham and me gone shopping. Don't go
ANYWHERE- they might still be following you. If someone
comes to the door, don't answer it.
                               Penelope

        She dropped the note, feeling a little bit like a
child left home alone with a big batch of cookies baking in
her mother's oven.
        Without hesitation, she turned to the computer
system. It was still on, but it was going to take a little
effort to get into VR. She brought up the program she had
seen Penelope using after six tries. The only question was-
where would she take Mulder. She didn't want to be in the
cold place. With his other destination in sight, he'd
continue moving no matter what she said. Better to meet him
on more stable ground.
        "Okay, restaurant," she said, typing the word. It
came up as scenery, and she affixed the goggles to her head.
Scully dialed Mulder's hospital number. The phone rang, and
her mother's voice asked, "Hello?"
        "Hi, Mom," she said.
        "Dana, where are you? We've been trying to reach you-
"
        "I can't tell you, Mom. I really wish I could, but I
can't," she explained. A moment of silence passed. "How's
Mulder?"
        "He's holding up all right, but something strange
happened. Nurse Wilkins said that after you called earlier,
things started happening with Mulder's heart. It started
beating faster, and his brainwaves picked up. She thinks he
might be responding to your voice. We've tried talking to
him, but nothing happens-"
        "Put him on the phone," she ordered.
        Scully slipped the VR goggles down, and clutched the
phone with gloved hands. "Hi, Mulder," she whispered,
flicked the switch.
        The next minutes came to Scully in a rush.
        She had experienced this before, the twisting
turning, all the colors- purple, gold, blue, pink, black,
all spinning around her. She felt as if she was in the
center of a tornado that had swallowed a rainbow. She was
going someplace, the place she had to go as fast as she
could, because helping him as soon as possible was all that
mattered now...

        She found herself in a restaurant. It was a fancy
one, a place by the beach, she suspected, sniffing salty sea
air that drifted in from the open window. The floors had
were a dark, red wine color. Scully was seated at a table in
a corner, next to a set of French doors that were open. The
lights overhead were dim somewhat, and beyond what appeared
to be a balcony and a fountain, she could hear the cries of
a seagull, and the dull roar of the ocean in the distance.
The restaurant was full of people, but only two others
shared this corner of the room. Across from Scully's table
was an exact replica of her table, with two people seated at
it. A man and a woman. She studied them a moment. The woman
was heavyset, with short black hair, and a kind face. Scully
had the feeling she knew her from someplace, some other
time. The man was tall and burly. He had large features, and
big hands, and reminded her of a giant. Both were dressed in
white, and talking with each other heatedly, ignoring Scully
staring at them. The chair across from Scully was empty,
although the table was set for two. A single white rose
stood in a white vase off to the side of the table. The
tablecloth was made of white linen, and a dark red napkin
lay at the side of several pieces of silverware. Scully's
eyes searched the restaurant, until she spotted Mulder
making his way over to her. He was dressed in a pair of
black pants, and a black shirt. Equally black hair glinted
under the lights, showing darker highlights. Scully stood
when he approached, and stared down at herself as she heard
a crisp ruffling. She was dressed in white stockings and
black patent-leather shoes, with two tiny flowers on each
toe. A red velvet dress came down to just past her knees,
and long braided hair swung around her. She stared at it,
and realized that her hair was black instead of red. The red
dress had a white collar that flattened out, and little red
bows kept her hair in place. Her chest was flat, and she her
figure was unshapely. She sat, and stared at hands that
weren't hers. Then she looked at Mulder.
        "Hello, Scully," he said softly. "Where are we?"
        "More like who are we. I don't know where we are,
Mulder," she confessed. Her voice came out high-pitched,
squeaky even.
        "I'm thirsty, Scully," he complained.
        She stared at him. His hazel eyes were drinking her
in. "Have some water. Are you warm enough?" she asked,
handing out her small drinking glass. He took the water, but
didn't drink it. It seemed as if holding it was enough to
quench his thirst.
        He nodded. "It's very warm in here. I like it."
        The conversation was very low, in deep tones that
sounded almost seductive to Scully's ears. The candle on
their table flickered, and played off the planes and angles
of his face. He looked very young, and very innocent to her,
and then he was older, eyes holding the wisdom of ages. He
reached out, and picked the white rose out of its vase, and
handed it to her. It was amazing. Scully felt she could fly
in this place, if she wanted to. Everything was rich, and
beautiful, and dangerous. It was like a fantasy world where
she could do things she'd repressed herself to do. She took
the white rose from Mulder's hand, her eyes asking him a
million questions, those her lips spoke none.
        He answered them all in silence.
        "Um, what happened in the car?" she asked, pulling
her eyes off of his, and staring at the rose. It was
perfect, purely perfect. Every arch and curve was exactly as
it should have been. She ran a finger over the petals,
watching them curve inward at her tiny fingers, and then
spring back the way they were before.
        "You mean during the accident?"
        "And before that, in your apartment."
        He bit his lip. "I can't remember very well. I
remember rushing home- I had to tell you something about the
information that was faxed to me-"
        "I found the folder in your desk at your apartment."
        He shook his head. "All the information isn't there.
I was following this case for a while, Dana. I told him I
didn't know anything- I told him I hadn't told you anything.
Then there was this cat- it- it was in my car- I don't know
how it got there, but it was there. It attacked me when I
was driving. But something was wrong. It just scratched me,
I don't know how it got out, but it did, because no one saw
it, and I know that for a fact.
        "You have to be careful, Dana. Promise me you'll be
careful," he pleaded.
        She stared up at him. "All right, Mulder. I'll be
careful. Is there anything else?"
        He shook his head. "Nothing I can remember. There's
more, there's a lot more to it, but I can't remember..."
        He sighed. "Let's go out on the terrace," he said
quietly, standing. He offered her his arm, and she took it,
both sauntering out into the night with the elegance of
royalty. The only light was from the stars shining brightly
above. In the middle of the terrace lay a fountain. It
spilled waters that looked so clean and clear, Scully had
the resist the urge to drink from them. She instead stared
at her patent leather shoes, and smelled the fragrance of
the rose, twisting it beneath her fingers. But something
about the way she looked was bothering her. It was bothering
her to the point of where she could concentrate on nothing
else. There was something terribly wrong about the way she
looked...
        Scully recognized the form, and stepped out of
Mulder's grasp. She stared up at him, her face demeaning.
"Mulder- Mulder what is this? Is this how you picture me? As-
as your sister?"
        "It's not from my mind," he lied. "I know you're not
my sister."
        "Do you?" she demanded angrily. "I wouldn't look
like this if you did! I'm not your sister. I'm not some
little girl who needs to be protected."
        His face went blank and emotionless. He wanted to
protect her, because it made up for the time when he
couldn't protect his original sister. Scully was like a
sister to him. A little sister he could show the ropes to,
stick up for, do all the things he'd never gotten to do with
Samantha. "I know you can take care of yourself. I know
you're not my sister."
        Her eyelids dropped slightly, and she took a step
towards him, velvet dress ruffling in the wind from a dark
and unseen ocean. "Mulder," she said, her voice adopting a
softer, gentler tone. "You can't think of me this way. I'm
not your sister, I don't want to be her. I don't want you to
think of me as your sister."
        "Do you know she'd be just your age? Do you know
that when she came back, when I thought I'd found her, that
she looked like you? She had red hair just like yours, and
blue eyes just like yours. I can't help thinking of you as a
sister. I want to protect you, Scully, I know you can take
care of yourself, but I want to do it anyways."
        "That doesn't mean you can think of me as Samantha.
I'm your friend, Mulder. I don't know what you feel, but I
care about you, and if you were in trouble, I'd do anything
to help you, I'd want to protect you from anyone that could
harm you. That doesn't mean you're my brother."
        "I see-"
        "No you don't! I'm not your sister, dammit!" she
cried. Nonthinking, she reached up, pulled his head down,
and kissed him. It was the only way to make him see who she
was.
        Scully wasn't sure when the transformation came. She
wasn't sure when her anger, and need to prove how right she
was dissipated, but it did so with such a sudden flourish
she doubted she had felt those things at all. And she became
aware of things she hadn't before. Like how soft Mulder's
lips were, and how close her body was to his own.
        And then she felt the change. She felt herself grow
taller, she felt her hair unwind from the tight braids and
go loose at her shoulders. Her hips flared out, and her body
returned to the way it should be. Her clothes were changing,
too. With her eyes closed, she felt a silky material connect
with her body where the itchy fabric of the velvet dress had
been. Pantyhose replaced stockings, patent leather shoes
shifted into high heels that lifted her up farther, so she
could put her arms around his neck.
        The kiss changed then from something innocent and
furious, into something darker, and wonderful. She wasn't
sure when she began to notice his arm around her waist,
pulling her towards him, or those soft pianist's fingers
diving into her hair. But she did. She also noticed the
places where his body connected with hers, strange and dark
and different. Or when his mouth began to fight back against
her, and she realized that this kiss was not for proving
things, but for their own dark pleasure. Things she had
never thought of raked her mind. Things she knew no partner
had the right to think surprised her at every turn. And his
mouth was so warm, and soft and gentle as it took control of
her own. But her hands were on the sides of his head,
pushing his mouth towards her, keeping him there. She broke
away, her forehead resting against his, breathing deeply.
She panted against the ravenousness of a mouth she had never
touched before. A moment later her lips were caught up again
in his own, as they parted against his. Wet and warm and
delicious, she wanted to feel more, taste more. More, more,
more. Her body cried out for more than this simple kiss, no
matter how forbidden the thoughts were. Her heart was
racing, her mind going faster.
        Mulder couldn't believe he was standing here, with
this woman. She wasn't his sister. She was a woman. It
didn't matter how she had gotten here, or what happened
after this. All that mattered was here with her. It was
insane, it was totally crazy, and totally right all at the
same time. His hand cupped her hip, full under his fingers.
Something primitive in him was hungry. Hungry not only for
her, to tear the thin clothes he had thought her dressed in
off, and take her in his own selfish need, but to have her.
To consume her body and soul. The warmth and life in her
that he couldn't seem to possess.
        Her hair felt like silk under his fingers. Wonderful
golden red silk he wanted to feel and touch. It felt soft
and delicate, like he knew her body was. And she was so
close, he could feel the curves of her body against his, and
wanted to caress them with his fingers, like his mouth
caressed her own. She was so delicious....
        She pulled back, far enough so he was forced to
loosen his grasp of her. Her face was flushed, and she could
feel night air upon bare skin. She was wearing a pair of
loose ivory-colored silk pants, and a short sleeved ivory
shirt of the same material that exposed a firm stomach.
Ivory heels clicked on the stone balcony, and a scarf
covered her neck. Her hair was swept back, longer than it
should have been, but it didn't matter. She had proved to
him that she was right- she wasn't his sister, and she never
could be that little girl he had depicted her as in his
mind. But something had gone wrong. There had been some
little glitch in her spur-of-the-moment plan that had hit
her out of the blue, a problem she hadn't seen coming.
        Her own need.
        Of course, that was what the plan had been all
about, to show him that she needed him to think of her as
Scully, not a little girl that needed protection. But at the
same time, she had almost crawled into his arms, with an
unusual craving for something only he could give her. And
she hadn't counted on the change that overswept the kiss,
the way it was tinted with desire, and emotion. But most of
all, she hadn't counted on feeling something within her
change. She hadn't expected anger to dissolve so quickly
into lust, she hadn't expected lust at all. She hadn't even
thought about what she would feel after it was all over- she
had decided she wouldn't feel anything. But she did. She
wanted those pianist's fingers on her skin again, soft lips
brushing against her own. She felt a stirring inside and
knew they weren't just friends anymore. They had the
potential to be much more if they submitted to the utter
turmoil that had elapsed during the kiss.
        Now she sat by the fountain, trying to sort herself
out. The fountain was circular, made of cement. Large
circles on the bottom gave way to small ones on top. Each
part had its own pool of water, and three indented spaces on
the rim of all except the bottom allowed water to pour out.
At the top of the fountain three spigots shot water a foot
straight up into the air. Blue lights gave an eerie, but
mystical look to the clear water and green vegetation hung
over the first three circles' edges.
        Scully sighed.

        "That's nice," the woman confessed to the man. He
glanced down at her, an amused look upon his face. "I mean,
it's nice that they've gotten together."
        He turned back. "She won't let it happen, you know."
        The woman stared at her hands. "Nothing I can do
about it. I'm just a lowly protector," she muttered. "He
won't either. Too d*mn stubborn-"
        "Tut, tut," the man said. A hint of an English
accent was hidden behind his words. "It's their lives, not
ours."
        She snorted. "I don't like that fact, either. What's
the good of keeping them alive if all they do is deny?"
        "Denial helps them through the pain, my dear. I can
feel it through him. Besides, he needs all the help he can
get now."
        "He'd get more help if she would only open up, and
he would. I wish we had some real power, some influence in
their lives. Then maybe everything could work out for the
best for once," she sighed.
        The man stared gently down at her. It wasn't in his
job description to stare down, to care, but it was force of
habit after looking after someone for so many years. You
became everyone's mother, everyone's friend. "Can't blame
yourself. That was a long time ago, and it wasn't like this
at all," he said softly. He put a big hand on her shoulder.
        She looked up at him with pursed lips. Any hint of
negative emotion registered on her face, and it always
looked wrong. "It was exactly like this, don't you
remember?"
        He turned away. The man didn't want to remember.
Memories hurt, they cut sores in your back, and made it hard
to lay down at night. But he knew himself that it had been
exactly like this. That was why this was his job, his
assignment. He often wondered if it was their fault the
others through the centuries were like this. That all the
others, too, had to wander through their lives, ignorant of
the only one they could ever have, blind, deaf, and dumb to
the one. But this time had been different. Both were strong-
willed, and he could have sworn he was watching himself when
he stared at the youth. She, too, had noticed this pair.
After all they had taken care of, they noticed these two.
These two could be their chance. The woman knew that, and so
did he. The man stared at his companion throughout time,
knowing that to confess himself would be horrendous. Time
didn't help. Time never helped a broken heart. It only
carved the wounds deeper, and played you like a marionette.
        The man turned away. She couldn't see his tears, she
couldn't possibly know or understand everything he knew. It
was an end that would inevitably fall on this pair.
        Time doesn't forget.
        People don't forget. Time makes sure of that. Every
time the man had tried, had tried to turn his back on the
memories and the pain, and the tiny sores that were cut so
deeply into him, they came back ten times stronger.
        There had to be some chance, though. There had to be
some rhyme or reason to all of this. To the reason they had
followed them all their lives.
        "I remember, Sunflower. There's no way I could
forget."
        She swallowed, and stared at her fingers, twisting
them together. He hadn't called her Sunflower in a long,
long time. Now the name sounded foreign to her. Sunflower
was a person she had been a long time ago. "They could be
the ones, you know," she spoke, nodding to the couple.
        He sighed, and nodded also. "I know." The entire
scene reminded him of the past, of a past he had tried so
hard to forget, and never could quite put out of his mind.
It was too much like his own dark past, too much like a time
he wanted to erase from history, and never see repeated, in
his mind or otherwise.
        But he knew that this would never happen. History
always repeats itself, and no matter how much he wished it
to be different, present would copy past, and, as always, he
would be powerless to stop it.
        The man and the woman stared at the pair that could
never quite be. And they prayed that someone would take pity
on their souls.
        And their children's.

        Mulder stood over her, examining her as if she were
some sort of rare specimen that needed dissecting. When she
didn't speak, he sat next to her.
        "Dana," he said softly. He reached over, and cupped
her face with his hand. Scully looked up at him. To him her
eyes were crystal blue like the water. He was clueless as to
what to say, so he asked the obvious question: "Why did you
do that?"
        She looked away, twisting a green vine
absentmindedly. "I had to prove to you I'm not your sister-
I had to make you see that I'm not her- it was all I could
think of." The pause that followed lasted a few seconds,
until she could ask something more important. "So where do
we go from here?"
        "What do you mean?" he asked. He knew exactly what
she meant, but if she could say something, they could get
everything out into the open.
        Scully sighed. "Well, did that- did it mean
anything? I- I felt something then, I don't know if you felt
it, but-"
        Her words were silenced by his lips on her mouth.
When she could breathe a moment later, he was close to her.
So close his breath bathed her face. "I felt something,
too."
        She looked sorrowfully up at him. "It won't even
matter when we get back. You won't remember any of this.
You'll only remember the feeling."
        He stared into the darkness where she supposed the
ocean was. "I want you to explain this to me, tell me about
what happened here when I get back. There's something
between us, Dana. I don't want to lose that in here."
        She stared up at him. The thought that she could
ever have anything more than friends with Mulder had been
unthinkable a few moments ago. But now she looked at him,
and remembered the kiss, and felt a rush of desire dance
waves over her. It was as if here the electricity, the
natural magic that went with them to make them such devoted
friends and partners crackled louder. She could almost see
the energy reeling between them. The bond they had was so
much stronger here, so much more alive...
        But she couldn't do that. Scully didn't want to
complicate her life, and she knew that no matter how right
things feel here, in this alternate world, it would feel
awkward and wrong in the real world. In the world where
their only relationship had been friends, it would be
uncomfortable. She didn't want to complicate her life with
an office romance. She didn't need anymore complications in
her life. She already had enough problems, to have to deal
with these new feelings. Scully was very good at putting
aside her personal feelings. You had to learn to do that in
the FBI. You had to learn to hide all the things that
bothered you, and carry on. And you had to make tough
decisions that would, in the end be best, even if your heart
cried out no, and you wanted the denied thing more than
anything else in the world. She had long since tried to not
affirm her relationship with Mulder. Once, a long time ago,
she had offered him more. She had been foolish then. One
time she had directly dared him to say he wanted more than
what they were. His refusal had been quick, and with a hint
of fright in it. Mulder had never been approached by someone
who dared him to ask for more, and never so directly. It
just wasn't something any of his other partners had done.
And it wasn't fair to ask for more when you knew you
couldn't handle it. When you already knew it was doomed to
fail because your work and your mission were filling up your
life.
        The white rose dropped from Scully's hand into the
water.
        Mulder suddenly put a hand on her stomach. "Dana,
something's the matter with you," he breathed. She knew his
fingers were there, but she couldn't feel them.
        Then she glanced down. Her exposed stomach was gray.
Not just a little gray, totally gray, almost to the point of
being black. Green and yellow surrounded the edges of the
dark patch, and Mulder poked at it. A piece of flesh came
off in his palm. Her stomach was rotting. All the flesh of
her stomach was rotting, like a corpse. A stench  arose from
the piece of flesh Mulder had torn off. It smelled of decay.
Of death. She gasped, and watched, transfixed. Her navel
seemed to widen, and then something came out of it.
Correction, she thought. Something chewed its way out. From
the small gap a large black worm crawled out. Its eyes
stared up intelligently at her, gleaming by starlight. They
were bright green, and it seemed to smile up at her. It
attached itself to her body, small unseen suction-cup feet
let it crawl up her belly. She didn't move. Its eyes gleamed
up at her, as it crawled underneath her shirt. She felt its
slimy body squirm between her breasts, and her breaths came
quicker. Then its head peeked out from the rounded collar of
her shirt, and she stared over at Mulder, pleading for him
to do something, because she couldn't herself. But what she
was confronted with was a demon. Its body looked like a
burnt hot dog, all shriveled and black. Its eyes were black
bottomless pits, and it reached over and grasped the worm.
It pulled at the worm, and stuck the head in the dark cavity
of its mouth. Then the monster began to suck. And the worm
kept coming, tumbling out of her belly button, up between
her breasts, all slimy and wet, and the creature kept
sucking at the worm. She could see it entering his body. And
then the monster began to take organs. She felt her
intestines attached to the worm slide up, her kidneys, all
her organs, until finally it came to the end, a live,
beating heart that thumped, drowning out all sounds, beating
against her skin, pumping blood that bubbled over, staining
her white ivory shirt, and pants. She turned away, and
reached for the white rose, her only link to civilization,
to life...
        She bent to pick it up, but before her fingers could
connect with the water, the electricity crackled, and she
found herself back in Penelope's apartment. Scully cried
out, and clutched at her stomach, lifting her shirt up, and
feeling the smooth skin there, as if to reassure herself
that she was not dying.
        Penelope and Graham were crowded around, watching
her, and when she slipped off the VR goggles and stared at
them, she almost had a heart attack.
        "Were you there, in- in SIVR?" Graham spoke first.
        Scully's breaths turned to heaving, and her body
shuddered with the force of taking in air and letting it
out. "Yes, I- Mulder was there-"
        Penelope glanced at Graham, and then took him aside
to speak privately.
        Her black hair fell to the side of her face, as she
spoke, large blue eyes concerned for the other woman.
        "How can she go into VR? I thought only you could do
that," Graham asked.
        Penelope shook her head, confused. "I don't know,
Graham," she said, studying her friend's face. Graham pushed
a hand through black hair in frustration, and it fell to the
sides of his head again. "We need to find out what happened
to her in there. I can't help getting the feeling there's
more behind this than she's telling us. If we can-"
        A bang, and the door shut behind Scully. The older
woman was gone.

        The sky was a grayish-purple color that reminded
Scully of her stomach. It had to do with all the stomach
aches she'd been having, but what did it mean? She decided
that she didn't care and pressed on. The wind swept around
her, and lightning struck giant yellow knives in the
distance. A rumble of thunder shook the earth, and Scully
began to run. Down the alleyways, past streets until she was
lost. She pulled her jacket closer around her, and wished
she had something heavier. Scully didn't know where she was,
and for the time being, it didn't seem to matter. She wanted
to get lost. She wanted an escape from having to deal with
Mulder, and nightmares, and Skinner and the government...
        She wanted to be someplace warm, shut up and away
from everyone, but the only place she would find solitude
was on the streets, where no one knew her. She realized
vaguely that she had wandered into the bad part of town. She
walked past barrels burning papers that was the only source
of warmth for a group of the homeless. Call girls leaned in
doorways, and a group of men in black leather jackets stood
on a street corner arguing with a second group of men.
Gangs, she realized. She wished vainly that she had someone
here with her. Having anyone she could trust nearby in a
place like this would make her feel safe.
        So would being in Mulder's arms, a voice inside
said. She understood that now even to have him holding her
as a friend would be a comfort. But that was impossible.
Mulder was in the hospital, if anything, she needed to hold
him...
        But she couldn't deny the fact that at this moment,
she'd like to have him here, an arm protectively around her,
even if he thought of her as his sister. He would keep her
safe in a place like this. Not that I can't keep myself
safe, she though. But this place unnerved her, as she slowed
to a brisk walk. It made her paranoid of the people that
stared at her as she passed by in her thin white cotton
blouse, designer jeans, and topcoat. She kept her head high,
and listened to the thunder rumble in the distance. She
wished for someone by her side. Right now, more than
anything, she needed someone to talk to, someone she could
lean on, and tell about all her troubles. But first she
needed to get out of here. A slight drizzle started, but
behind the pounding of the rain on the pavement, she could
hear two people's footsteps. She turned and saw two men.
Both were dressed in baggy jeans, a peach shirt and leather
vests. One was Hispanic, the other was white. The Hispanic
man had a black bandanna folded several times over and tied
in the back of his head. Both were following her, and Scully
felt a slight comfort in the fact that she had worn her
holster, with gun tucked neatly inside. They had their hands
stuck in deep pockets, walking with a strut that told you
immediately they were from one of the gangs she'd passed by
earlier.
        She picked up her pace, and they did, also.
        The first thought that came to her was that they
wanted to mug her. She glanced back at the two men, hearing
their leather boots hit the sidewalk behind her. Her
sneakers crunched on broken glass, and five seconds down the
sidewalk she heard the crunch of boots on glass. Her sadness
and slight fear turned to rage and anger. How dare they
follow her? How dare they try anything against a half-crazed
woman with a gun?
        She smiled. A smile that was full of hatred and
lunacy and complete and utter madness based on anger and
hurt and confusion. They didn't know she had it. Reality hit
her hard, and with a scuttle down the nearby alley, she
escaped, opening the first door on her left. She panted, and
put an ear to the wooden door. The pounding of booted feet
on pavement let her sigh with relief. She leaned against the
door, her eyes shut for a full ten minutes before opening
them, and staring wide-eyed at her surroundings.
        She was in a Church. Not a regular Church with a
steeple, but something to that extent. The building had
pews, the lacquer chipped and peeling. But nevertheless, it
was a beautiful place, and it was very quiet and serene. She
glanced around. She was standing in the back of the Church,
which in itself wasn't that big. Probably not even a hundred
feet from where she was standing to the altar. She dipped
her hand in the holy water and crossed herself before
walking up the aisle. She cut across where the pews were
separated, and a small table stood, nailed to the floor. She
noticed no cloth covered it, and it had several nicks and
scratches. She continued up the side aisle, until she
reached a place where several statues stood. She recognized
one of Jesus, with chips and scratches in it. Next to it was
one of the Virgin Mary, in the same state, and the third was
a statue of Saint Theresa. Several candles dressed in red,
blue and yellow holders flickered by the feet of the
statues. She walked slowly past them. Scully had been a
Catholic once, a long time ago, and she could easily name
the statues and what significance that particular person had
in the Catholic religion.
        Once you got something like that into your head, it
never left, no matter how long it had been since you'd used
it. Scully didn't know why. It was just something you
remembered after years of Catholic schooling. She stared at
the candles by the feet of Saint Theresa. Their yellow
holders made them glow, and Scully leaned over them, staring
at the orange and yellow and red flames leaping out. She
slipped her wallet out, and put two dollars in the small
collection box by the candles. She took a long thin wooden
stick and pushed it into the flames of a lit candle. They
leapt up, licking hungrily at the thin stick. Then she held
the flame to the wick of a dark candle. Soon flames danced
from that one, too, and she stuck the piece of wood back
into the pile of stones she had found it in earlier. She
didn't know why she did that. It wasn't as if she truly and
really believed that it would help anything. But doing it
made her feel better, not so lost and cold and scared.
        "Did you pay for that candle?" the priest behind her
asked. She turned, startled. He was dressed in black, with
the small white collar at his Adam's apple. He was an
elderly man, sixty at least in his years, with a thin frame
and a bony face. White hair was thinning, and gnarled hands
hung at his sides. "I apologize, miss, it's just that a lot
of people come in here, don't pay for the candles, and the
Church doesn't have enough money to keep paying for them."
        She smiled softly. "Yes, I did."
        "I don't think I've seen you around here before-
what's your name?" he said.
        "Dana. Dana Scully," she said after a pause.
        He smiled and extended a hand. "James Andrews. Here,
sit down, child. You look lost."
        She smiled. "I kinda am. Can I use your phone to
call a cab?"
        He nodded and led her into the back room. She called
a cab, and then came back out, and sat in the front pew.
Father Andrew sat next to her. "What's the matter? You look
so troubled, but then, isn't everyone? You look different
though, not like these other ones around here. Of course,
this is the "bad part" of L.A. What with the brothel next
door, and the harlots inside." He shook his head tiredly. "I
know the good lord preached to all sinners, but a lot of 'em
just don't want to listen. Enough of my mouth, though," he
said, and she could hear a faint Irish accent highlighting
the words, "I'm only weighing you down with more problems-
so what's your story?"
        "Nothing important."
        "Bah! It's gotta be important if it's botherin' you.
Come on, you look like you need to get something off your
chest."
        "I do."
        "Well? Speak then!"
        She looked at the man. His hazel brown eyes were
stern but good-natured. And right now she really needed to
explain herself to someone. "I- I have a friend, and he was
in an accident. They say he fell asleep at the wheel, but- I
think someone tried to murder him. And- his condition
doesn't look good. I came out here- I'm from Washington-
because someone told me that a woman out here could help
him. And I want to find who did this to him- he told me that
I was in danger, and I think he was trying to protect me
when they tried to kill him."
        The old man nodded understandingly. "Don't you think
finding the killer is a job for the police, though?"
        "I'm an FBI Agent. He was my partner, and I don't
want him to die on me. I can't let him down," she explained.
If only she could explain about SIVR, and all the things
that had happened in her dream-like state.
        He put a hand on her shoulder. "Dana, you're one of
the most devoted people I've seen in a while. This man-
whoever he is- is probably one of the luckiest men on earth.
And I think your partner's an equally devoted person. Have
you broken down yet?" he said.
        She frowned. "What do you mean?"
        "You seem very vulnerable right now, Dana. Like
you've been holding back a lot of tears."
        "I- I have, I guess. I don't have time to mourn. I
have to save him."
        The priest tilted his head and stared at her. "You
love him that much, Dana?"
        She choked, confronted with a question she didn't
know she'd been subconsciously asking herself. *Do you love
him?* "I- I care a lot about him," she stuttered. Faced with
a question she didn't want to answer- something she'd known
she'd have to answer sometime, she felt her stomach leap.
        He smiled tiredly. "You're sick, Dana. I can tell it
even as I sit here. You look pale, dear. I think you should
go to a doctor. And I don't think it has anything to do with
Mulder. Don't worry, Dana. He won't leave you. He needs you.
That's what you're worried about, isn't it? That Mulder's
going to leave you, just slip off like your father did, and
you won't be able to do anything about it. He won't, Dana.
And you're father didn't go easily, either. Mulder's going
to stay. And you and Samantha are the only things that are
going to keep him here," he said.
        Scully's eyes widened. "How do you know about my
father, Samantha- I never even told you Mulder's name!" she
demanded.
        The man ignored her question. "He's in a place,
Dana, where there is no wrong, there is no right, there only
*is*. You'd like to believe that it's the doctors, and the
machines keeping him alive, but it isn't. His soul is
strong. And he has to choose what he wants to do. Whether he
wants to do what's right, and return to you, and his life,
or whether he wants the truth."
        Her face hardened with realization, and defeat. "He
needs the truth more than anything else. He wants the truth
more than what's right, more than me, maybe even more than
Samantha," she said. Her voice was detached, and her
thoughts were fluttering. Mulder wouldn't do what's right.
Not if it meant he had to choose between something he'd
always been looking for, and the people he cared about. The
abstract form would win every time. "I can't keep him here."
        The priest leaned over and grabbed her hand tightly.
His fragile hands were well muscled, and they clung to hers
almost hard enough to bruise. "Listen to me, Dana. You are
the only reason he must decide. You've already placed a
shadow of a doubt in his mind. You've already made him think
twice before grasping the truth. You are the only person
that can convince him to stay."
        "How?" she asked, her voice cracking slightly.
        "That's something you have to figure out for
yourself. No one can do that for you, Dana."
        Words from Mr. X. Words that told her everything and
nothing.
        "But-"
        A beep sounded from outside. "I believe your cab is
here, Dana," the old man said, standing on weary bones.
"Remember, Dana, you've got to let it out sometime. Even
your Mulder had to do that." He slipped into the back room,
and Scully blinked. She walked in a tranced state outside,
running through the pouring rain to the yellow taxi. When
she stared at the wall where the door to the Church had
been, she saw only a blank brick wall.

        Penelope paced.
        "Calm down, Pen, she'll be fine!" Graham said, in a
failed effort to comfort his friend. She sat on the edge of
her bed, and put her face in her hands.
        "It's getting dark out- we don't know where she
went! God!"
        "She's an FBI Agent, Pen. I think she should be able
to take care of herself on the big bad streets of L.A.," he
said vaguely.
        She sighed. "Graham, what if they saw her? She went
into VR- it's impossible. Only I can do that!"
        "And her," he corrected. "Before it was only you, so-
maybe she's got the magic touch."
        "Did you see the expression on her face when she
came out? She was scared, Graham. I wish she hadn't run out
like this, I wish I could have seen what she had in there,"
Penelope toiled. She twisted her fingers nervously, and
watched him run a hand through black hair. He sighed, and
looked to his left, as if the answer to their problems was
there.
        "Look, Pen, you've come out of VR scared before.
It's a scary experience, because you're not sure if it's
real or not." Graham wished he had some way of proving that
Scully was all right to his friend. She worried so much
lately, *he* was *worried* about *her* getting an ulcer.
Before SIVR, Penelope had been, well, normal, he guessed.
Before she'd found the magical gateway to anything and
everything, she had been just Penelope, a shy computer
analyst, and he'd been her best friend Graham. Lately, he'd
taken the role of protector, mother, and supporter. But he
would protect his friend. He had sworn to do so because
there was no one else to, even if he hadn't known what he
was getting himself into. She was his friend, and Graham had
his loyalties.
        "But, things start *happening* after you get out of
VR, you start seeing things that might not be there, you
can't tell what's real and what's not- it gets so confusing-
I want to know what she saw in there. What happened. I
checked- she dialed Mulder's number and I think she talked
with him in VR. If that's true, though- what scared her? Was
it the fact that he could die, or does she have a few
misconceptions about how clean her record is? We all have
fears, and they usually come out in VR- I've had nightmares
about being trapped in a burning car, and they've happened
in VR, too!" she protested.
        Graham sighed, and moved rapidly to his friend. He
sat next to her, and put an arm around her shoulder. "She'll
be all right, Pen. Everything's gonna be all right- if- if
the committee already knows she can go into VR, they won't
touch her."
        Penelope collapsed in his arms. That's why she was
glad Graham was always there. Because he would always be
someone who would be there to catch her when she fell. She
put her arms around his waist, buried her head in his neck
and sighed, a slight smile on her lips, as she leaned her
forehead against his chin. "Thanks, Graham," she whispered.
        He rubbed her back. "I'm always here for you, Pen.
You know that," he said. His low and deep voice brought a
slight shiver to Penelope's back. It reminded her of Morgan-
the other person that had tried to protect her.
        In the end, he had lain dying in the streets in her
arms. And now everything Penelope did was top secret, and in
truth Graham couldn't protect her any more than she could
protect herself. No one could protect Penelope. She was a
hunted woman and a protected woman all in the same time. And
she knew the committee would only use her until they found
out how she got into VR. Then, she would either be let in on
the big secret, or killed. She had given away all hope of
ever getting out alive. She suspected that was what Morgan
had tried to let her do. If she had followed his advice that
one time- what would her life be like now? Would she be
saner, would he have died?
        What-ifs were her greatest enemy, because they
always brought her back to herself. What could she have done
to help others? What could she have done to save the lives
of those who had lost them because of her?
        The door to the apartment opened suddenly, and
Penelope broke out of Graham's embrace to see who it was.
She flew down the stairs, and sighed heavily when she saw
Scully coming back in, her red hair slicked back against her
head.
        "Where were you? Why did you run off?" Penelope
started, as she collapsed in the executive chair. Graham
came down the stairs like a teenager on Christmas morning,
and plopped down on the bottom step.
        Scully clung to herself, and Graham fetched a gray
blanket that he calmly wrapped around her shoulders, and got
her settled down on Penelope's couch. Penelope watched
Graham with a twinge of something she couldn't identify, and
thought she was going slightly mad. But that was Graham,
always prepared to help anyone. He really was a nice guy,
she thought, despite the way he looked and sounded.
        "I- I just needed," she started, as Penelope brought
her a cup of tea. "Thanks," she said, smiling graciously. "I
just needed to get away for awhile and think. I just went
for a walk. I'm fine."
        Penelope pursed her lips. "What happened when you
were in VR? What did you see?"
        Scully licked her lips. She told Penelope and Graham
everything, leaving out the part about kissing Mulder, and
the way she changed from little girl to grown woman. No need
for them to know everything.
        "Symbolism again," Penelope said when she was
finished, and leaned back into the couch. "The white of your
outfit and the rose stands for purity, the water is an
element of romance-"
        Graham beside her shook his head. "You're amateur,
Pen, let me handle this. Okay, water is the source of all
life. You said he told you he was thirsty, he took your
glass but he didn't drink. He wants some positive energy,
some life, which is the water, but he's deciding between
taking it from you or someone else who's offered him a
drink. The fountain is just another element of this. White
can stand for purity, but it also stands for help. Black
stands for death, but it also stands for the fact that he
could think himself uncleanly. I think you really do have a
stomach problem, or something symbolically equal to that.. I
don't know. It's obvious though, if you can get him to go
into the water, or drink the water, touch it in any way,
then you'll save his life. The water is life for him. As for
the last part, about the worm in your stomach- I think it
might be a product of too many horror movies, and the ideas
that things are not always as they seem," he finished.
        She smiled at him. She had thought there was
something more to Graham, she knew there was. "How do you
know all this?" Scully asked.
        He shook his head. "I read a lot, spiritual books,
New Age type stuff, classics, whatever."
        He smiled back at her, and Penelope felt her stomach
twist slightly. "Well," she said briskly. "At least now I
know what to do when I go back in."
        She stood, tossing back her hair and walked calmly
to the computer.
        "Penelope!" Scully and Graham were by her side in an
instant. "I want to go back in, Penelope," Scully said
calmly. "I think I can help Mulder."
        Penelope stared at the older woman a moment. "Can
you handle it?"
        "I'd do anything for him."
        "Then go," she said softly. "Graham and I will be
right here in case anything goes wrong."
        Scully nodded, and sat in the executive chair,
staring at the massive mound of monitors and equipment
before her. Penelope and Graham were seated a few feet away,
on the staircase. Scully picked up the phone after a moment
of hesitation, and dialed the number.
        "Hello?"
        The voice was male, and Scully recognized it
immediately.
        "Hello," she said calmly.
        "Scully- where in God's name are you?" Skinner's
voice asked.
        "I can't tell you that, sir. Can you put the phone
to Mulder's ear?" she asked coolly.
        Skinner hesitated a moment. "No, last time, his
heart rate started bouncing around, his breathing became
disoriented. We hung up the phone to make way for the
paramedics, he went into cardiac arrest, we almost lost him.
It happened last time you called, I don't want to risk it."
        Scully paused. She hadn't expected any resistance.
"Sir, I don't think you can make that decision," she said
defiantly. "Is Mrs. Mulder there?" she asked.
        "No."
        "Is Nurse Wilkins there?"
        "I don't know. Dana, I don't want-"
        "Find out, please," she instructed. Her heart was
racing a mile a minute, she couldn't imagine what Mulder's
had been going through. If she couldn't talk to Mulder on
the phone, she couldn't bring him into VR, and then all was
lost.
        A moment later, the cool, slightly southern twang of
Nurse Wilkins's voice came to the receiver. "Hello?"
        "Nurse Wilkins, this is Dana Scully. I want you to
put the phone to Mulder's ear. They said it had a positive
effect-"
        "Dana, I hate to tell you this, but his condition
became erratic once we put you on. If you are helping him by
talking to him on the phone, or whatever you're doing, you
could also kill him," the patient nurse explained softly.
        Scully took several deep breaths. "If anything
really bad happens this time, you can just hang up the phone
on me, okay?"
        "Dana-"
        "Please!" Scully exploded.
        The nurse gave an exaggerated sigh into the phone.
"All right, but if anything happens-"
        "Thank you," she said before the nurse could finish
the thought. There was some scuffling in the background, the
sound of Skinner's voice protesting, and a moment later the
phone was nestled against Mulder's ear. Scully pulled down
the VR glasses. "Hello, Mulder," she whispered, and flipped
the small black switch.
        (OOC: I'll Be There by Mariah Carey is what Mulder
is playing until further notice. K? BIC:)
        After the twisting and tumbling and turning had
subsided, she found herself in a dimly lit bar. She was
seated in a table near a grand piano, where a man with dark
black hair was running his fingers up and down the keys. The
bar was empty, save for a couple dressed in white seated in
the back of the bar. They looked vaguely familiar to her,
especially the woman, but Scully ignored it. She stood, and
realized she was wearing in a red dress with spaghetti
straps. It hugged her wasp-waist figure securely, and she
felt dangerous and seductive dressed in the piece. Her hair
was pulled into a chignon at the back of her head, and her
unstockinged feet were bare. Not that it mattered. The
couple in the back would mind their own business no matter
what she looked like. She recognized the again dressed in
black Mulder at the piano, playing it without hesitation.
She watched those soft smooth fingers gliding over the keys
as if they had always done so.
        "Hello," she said, hopping up on the black grand
piano, shining under the lights of the bar. They were dimmed
slightly, and the entire place was rather dark. No bartender
stood behind the counter.
        He looked up, the music still pouring lightly from
his fingers. "Hello Dana. I've missed you."
        "I've only been gone a few hours," she replied.
        "I still missed you," he retorted. He broke out into
the eighties version of Total Eclipse of the Heart by Bonnie
Tyler. She smiled and laid down on her back on the piano,
her head leaning back over the top, so her hair blocked his
music, and his mind was filled with her face.
        "I thought you said you couldn't play piano," she
said in a low, throaty voice. Of course, in this place,
everything sounded seductive. She stared at his face, and
began to realize how beautiful it was. It was something she
had never noticed before, for whatever reason. It was as if
a floodgate of thoughts had crashed into her mind since
their kiss, and she now started noticing everything and
anything about him. He continued playing with one hand, and
touched her forehead.
        "I can do anything here," he said softly, brushing
her air away from her face. He leaned over and kissed her
mouth briefly. She closed her eyes, and he stopped playing
altogether to put his hands on the sides of her face as he
forced his tongue into her mouth. Delicately, she felt his
mouth caress hers, and she was lost to the world. Any
mission she might have thought she had was no impossible to
complete. It was impossible to think with his lips soft and
warm and moist against her own. He pulled back softly, and
stared at her face softly. And she saw those brown eyes
clouded with desire.
        "I told you I missed you," he whispered, his mouth
just touching her own as he spoke.
        She breathed slightly, her eyes still closed. "I
believe you."
        He smiled and lifted his head. She flipped over on
her belly, her fingers grasping the edge of the piano. Her
smile was a careful mix of seduction and playfulness. She
reached out, and touched his face. He stared at the place
where the red dress was riding low, and exposing cleavage
his eyes drank hungrily. "Do you want me to teach you how to
play?" he asked softly, lifting his eyes to crystal blue
ones.
        "First I want to know why you won't come back," she
dared. No matter how much her body cried to be near him, she
was here on business.
        He looked down at the keys, and played a few lines
from "If You Asked Me To". "I want to come back, Dana, but I
also want to know the truth. If I go to wherever, I'll know
the truth. I'll be able to find Samantha."
        She sighed, and looked down at his hands on the
ivory keys. "I want you to come back. I need you, Mulder,"
she confessed. Her eyes filled with tears. "I don't want you
to die on me. You may be able to find the truth if you go
there, but neither I nor Samantha will be there. You'll be
alone over there, Mulder."
        He looked up at her, and stopped playing again.
"Samantha could be there-"
        "Come on, Mulder!" she yelled, sitting up. "You
always believed that she was still alive- well? Why do you
want to give up now? You have to live, dammit!" she cried,
pushing him. She breathed raggedly. "You can't just go off
and die on me because you want to know the truth- that's not
the way!"
        His eyes softened, and he came to the side of the
piano. He pulled his arms around her, and held her close.
She beat upon his chest at first, as if she wanted him to
let her go, but finally she subsided, and her body shook
with racketing sobs. His face remained calm and tranquil
through all of it, knowing that he couldn't leave her, and
knowing that he had to find the truth.
        But what's the point of finding the truth if you
have no one to share it with?
        He left the question unanswered, simply holding her
as she cried. He kissed her forehead, and caressed her hair,
as she buried her head in his chest.

        The woman sat in her space and looked at the man.
"She needed that. She really did," the woman said honestly.
"Do you know why he's like that?"
        The man shook his head. "He's been faced with a
tough decision. He's never had to think twice about his
quest, I know. It's good she's made him think twice."
        "Yes," the woman said. Her small features were ever
calm, and the man remembered how they had looked staring
into his eyes for the last time. The lump welling in his
throat was immeasurable. All he could do was stare at the
couple, at the two that might possibly make it, and
remember...

        *It had been a beautiful spring day. The sun had
been shining, a blue sky, white clouds. It wasn't the sort
of day tragedy struck. But it was a heavy day for his heart.
He stood in the drafty halls of the castle, and thought. She
was getting married today. She was going to leave the castle
with her new husband, and he was forced to think again. She
had been his friend since childhood. They had grown up
together, him learning to be the best knight he could, she
practicing her manners as a lady. She was four years younger
than him, only seventeen in her years, but the entire
kingdom knew what should have happened. Once he was made a
knight, he would ask her father for her hand. It was
expected by all, even the king himself, who had already told
his wife of the strikingly handsome young man who stared at
his daughter with such love. They were a match, almost
betrothed. Every night, the king watched his young daughter
smile shyly at the almost knight, over dinner. He knew why
she had taken up such an interest in horses, and requested
the young man be her teacher. When they were little, they
had played together, and the girl had told her mother that
she had decided to marry him when she was eight.
        What no one had counted on, though, was that the
good king should have a visitor. A king from another
country, the man was old, close to thirty. But he had spied
the young girl talking with the almost knight, and decided
to have her. The king owed him a favor.
        And the king had no choice but to obey. So now, the
almost knight stood in the halls, trying not to cry. She
would marry the man today, and leave tonight. And she would
never return. He had told her of plans that they could run
away, but she had shaken her head.
        "It is my father's choice. If this is what he tells
me to do, I must," she said.
        She was a good girl. No wild ideas ever came from
this young girl with hair the color of midnight, and brown
eyes that never filled with tears.
        "Do you love me?" he begged her.
        She shook her head. "I can't love you. I have a
fiance. I must love him."
        He had visions of breaking into the outdoor
ceremony, on his horse, riding through and picking her up
and throwing her over his shoulder, never returning with the
girl. He wished he could have done that. More than anything
he wished she had been willing to break the rules for him.
He had been willing to do anything to be with her, but he
would always respect her wishes. The pain hit him like a
sword shoved in his heart.
        And the worst part, he thought, is that she'll never
know I loved her. Because I couldn't tell her.
        He watched from a distance the only woman he knew he
could ever love. She turned and looked in his direction for
a moment. And for that second, he thought he saw her eyes.
He thought he felt the love from them, the hurt and the pain
radiate through her. But she had to do what was right. She
always had to do that. *

        The man pulled himself out of his reverie, and
stared at the woman across the table. He closed his eyes,
and prayed she couldn't see the tears that filled his eyes.
He turned, and watched the young couple.
        Please God, he begged, don't let that happen to
them.
        Don't ever, ever let anyone go through what I had
to. Not anymore.

        Scully lifted her head from Mulder's chest. He wiped
her tears with two thick fingers. "Don't cry, Dana," he
whispered softly. "Listen, sit down, I'll teach you to play
the piano," he said, trying for any diversion from the cause
of her tears.
        He led her to the piano bench, and sat her down. He
knelt behind her, and put his head on her shoulder. "Okay,
put your hands here," he said, putting his arms around her,
and taking her hands within his own. He moved her thumb to
middle C. "Your hands are supposed to be relaxed but alert,
hold them like you're going to type something," he said. Her
wrists were loose, and her fingers arched over the black and
white keys. "That's it. All right, put your right thumb
down." She did so, and a note came from somewhere back in
the piano. "That's it, you just played a C," he
congratulated.
        "Oooh, what's my prize?" she said, faking a little
girl tone.
        He laughed behind her. "All right, so I'm a lousy
teacher."
        "Damn straight," she muttered, turning her head. Her
mouth was inches from his. "But you're an incredible
distraction- I'd never learn anything." He leaned forward,
and kissed her lips softly, gently, until her body turned,
and he stood. The keys banged as he bent her over them, and
the stool upturned and clashed to the ground. He forced her
back against the piano, bracing her there. Her gentle curves
pressed into him, and she felt a hot rush of desire overtake
her. His mouth broke its contact with hers, and made its way
down her neck. His tongue drew circles against her skin, as
if he needed to taste all of her, to feel all of her. He
strained in a fresh wave of heat, clamoring to get her
someplace more solid. He pushed her body up on the piano,
and draped himself over her. The strap of her dress slipped
off her shoulder, and he tugged to get it down, so he could
see her, taste those curves that pressed so subtly into
him...
        "Mulder, Mulder," she gasped. Her voice was breathy,
and it urged him on.
        He closed his eyes, and felt her hands in his hair.
"You taste wonderful," he whispered against her skin.
"You're so beautiful, all over..."
        "We- we can't," she started. Her body screamed. He
was hard all over, and her body was taut with desire. She
pulled at his hair. In this place, anything could happen,
but if she let this...
        She felt herself reel when he pulled the dress down
farther, exposing the lacy black bra she was wearing. He
breathed hard against her skin.
        "Mulder!" she cried, and sat up. His brown eyes were
dark with lust, as she shoved him aside. She pulled her
dress back on, covering herself. "We can't do this."
        "Why?" he posed.
        She stared at him. "We can't, it's- I just- I can't
explain it, but we can't do this. I want to, believe me,
you'll never know how much I want to, but we can't," she
explained breathlessly. She tried not to look at his mouth,
hot and warm, and aching to touch her. And she tried to
forget how much she wanted his warm mouth on her skin,
tasting her, and loving her...
        "Dana," he said softly. "I know I don't stand a
chance with you out there. I know that no matter how much I
ask you, you won't tell me about this. I'll forget it all,
and I'll ignore you, and I'll never notice how beautiful you
are. I'll see you, but I won't see you. And out there, there
is no chance. There's no chance that we can ever be anything
more than what we are. You know that, I know that. Why can't
we be more in here?"
        Her eyes welled with tears. "I'm sorry. We just- it
would be wrong. If you could only see it from where I am.
When you get back, I'll have to play the role of the dutiful
partner and friend, nothing more. And I'll remember. I'll
remember everything about this, and I'll have to try and
pretend like we're still just friends, when I know that
we're a lot more than that," she pleaded.
        "Then why won't you tell me?"
        She held her head high. "I don't have to answer
that, Mulder."
        He remained like stone, and his voice was flat and
rigid when he spoke next. "I'm not coming back."
        Scully's eyes went wide and she reached out to touch
him when the electricity crackled, and she found herself
staring into the blackness of the VR goggles, a single word
escaping her lips.
        "NO!"

        Father James Andrews sat in his Church, and polished
his glasses. He scrubbed them wearily, just so he could see
out of them, and then resumed his kneeling position in the
second pew. The Church was quiet and dark, the only light
coming from the candles still lit in front of the statues of
the Saints. They flickered in the breeze that drifted in.
Father Andrews pulled his light blue sweater around him,
chilled. He felt he wasn't alone here, and that something
else was. It made him close his eyes, and clasp his bony
hands in front of him, as he prayed.
        "Please God," he whispered, in a soft Irish voice.
"Help this man, and woman. You know they deserve the help.
Don't let the devil overtake them. They only know what they
do. They can help so many people, just help them this once."
        Across the room, unbeknownst to the good Father, the
light from a yellow candle dimmed and blew out in a passing
breeze.

        Scully retreated from the world after that. Penelope
and Graham pulled the glasses and gloves off of her, powered
down the computer, and covered her mouth. She just kept
screaming and screaming. "No, no, no, no, no, no, no!"
        "Dana be quiet!" Graham pleaded.
        "She's gone crazy. Dammit, I knew we shouldn't have
let her back in. She's gone nuts!" Penelope started.
        "Pen don't you start freaking out on me too! Come
on, we have to calm her down somehow," Graham pleaded. He
was being more reasonable than usual, and that was a good
thing. Penelope wasn't feeling so calm right now. She was
more panicked. What if VR had permanently hurt Dana's
psyche? She feared not only that she had ruined one life,
but two. What if whatever had gotten Scully so upset had
hurt Mulder as well? Considering his medical condition, he
would be in a worse of state. Scully kept thrashing in
Graham's grasp, screaming into his thick palm. He pulled her
away from him, holding her tightly with one arm.
        "No no no no-"
        Her voice cut off like a machine gun out of
ammunition, as Graham brought his hand back, and slapped
her. She silenced immediately, thrashed in his grasp, and
hen collapsed to the ground. Penelope stared at her friend.
        "Okay, she's still got some sense recognition in
her. God, Pen," he breathed, running a hand through his
black hair. Graham had never hit a girl before. He had been
raised with gentleman's manners. Take care of the girls,
never hit them, defend their honor. He felt as if he'd
broken some great law, and suddenly felt ashamed of his big
hands. He reached over, and placed a palm on Scully's
shoulder. "Dana?" he asked, searching her eyes, her face for
any recognition. There was none. "I'm sorry, Dana. I just
needed you to be quiet."
        He looked up at Penelope pleadingly. She nodded
tiredly, her blue eyes drooping. Penelope knelt by Graham,
staring at Scully. "Dana, are you in there? What happened?"
she asked softly.
        The older woman shook violently. Penelope realized
she had belittled the power SIVR could have over Scully. It
had shaken the woman to her very core, as it had Penelope
when she had first entered into it. But she hadn't
experience this withdrawal from the world, this backing away
from everyone and everything. Only once had she felt this
scared after coming out of VR, and that had been when she
was in with the boy genius. In a place where he had complete
and utter control of everything and anything around,
including her. She had curled up in a corner, staring at her
fingers, until Morgan had found her. She thought of the man
who'd given his life for her brought a twist of regret to
her stomach. Scully was a strong woman. She had to be, in
order to be an FBI agent. What in the world could have upset
her so much?
        The answer was something only Scully could give.
        But she wasn't talking.

        Scully stayed in her secluded world, only
concentrating on everything that had happened. Trying to
remember everything that Mulder had ever said to her, trying
to freeze frame his picture in her mind and keep staring at
it. She had to get out of here. She felt as if she had a
million doors surrounding her, and if she so much as moved
her action would be anticipated, and things would happen. A
gut feeling told her if she moved towards the wrong one, she
could kill him, if she hadn't already.  He had already known
she wasn't going to tell him once he was out. She wouldn't-
it was impossible. Why should she tell him and bring out
more problems? All emotions do is cause entangling
alliances, and her life was all ready too complicated. She
didn't need any more problems.
        It was late when she uncurled herself on Penelope's
]ouch, and became aware of where she was, who she was, and
what she had to do. "G- Graham?" she asked softly. He was
dozing on the other end, Penelope curled next to him.
        Sharp blue eyes opened and went to her like a hawk.
"Pen," he whispered. Penelope sat up, startled, and blinked.
        "Dana- what happened?"
        She took several breaths before answering. "I forced
him away. He said he isn't coming back-"
        "Did you get him to drink some water, touch the
water in any way, shape or form?" Graham asked. His hair
hung raggedy to his shoulders, and he looked overly tired,
like someone who never quite got a full night's rest. Like
Mulder.
        "No," she said softly.
        Penelope sighed. "I'm going to take you to a
hospital, Dana," she said. When the older woman opened her
mouth to protest, Penelope cut her off. "Just to see if
there's anything wrong. Just to make sure you're all right.
You never did see about your stomach, anyways."
        So that was how Scully came to be sitting in the
office of Dr. Lois Artrina.
        She was dressed in a cloth robe, and her jeans. The
rest of her clothes lay stacked in a neat pile beside her on
the examining table. She sighed, and shivered. The office
had to turn down the air conditioning if they were going to
let half-naked patients wait for more than fifteen minutes.
It was around nine when Dr. Artrina entered. She was a tall,
pleasant woman with high cheekbones, a pale complexion, and
black hair that came to her shoulders. She was dressed in a
green surgical gown, and her smile was tired. "Hello, Dana,
sorry to keep you waiting. Your friends tell me you've had
some psychological difficulties, and you've been having
pains in your stomach," she said. Dr. Artrina sounded older
than Scully had first suspected, probably in her late
forties.
        "Yes, I have."
        "Well, your friends say that you've recently had
some stress on you."
        "Yes, but I don't think it's related. My... friend,
Mulder, he was almost murdered a few days ago."
        "I see," she said softly. "Well, we've done all the
tests, and we've found some traces of coelene. I hate to say
this, but I think you might have been poisoned. Coelene is a
chemical produced when mentholydis is mixed with stomach
acids. I don't know how, though. Mentholydis is a purely
experimental drug. It's still in the developing stages, even
though they've worked out the chemical formula for it. It's
supposed to flush out the a blockage on the back of the
heart into another artery in a less delicate area so the
doctors can remove the blockage without as much risk. You've
ingested it somehow. We'll have to give you a shot and keep
you here overnight for observation. Otherwise, if you keep
taking these antibiotics it should release the coelene from
your system, and you'll be all right."
        Dr. Artrina stepped over to a small box, and
prepared a hypodermic. "Roll up your shirt," she ordered.
Scully obeyed, and her face remained emotionless as the
woman pressed the needle into the right side of her stomach.
"I mixed a sleeping remedy with the antibiotic, so you can
get a good night's rest."
        Scully nodded, and laid back against the examining
table, darkness sweeping over her.
        She was vaguely aware of her body. Of being lifted
up onto a gurney, and being rolled away someplace, and then
being lifted again onto a bed. She drifted into darkness,
and awoke with a start at twelve-thirty in the morning. She
breathed heavily, as if she had just been held underwater
for a few minutes. She looked around. Her hospital room was
empty, the door was shut. She moved the bed up, still rather
groggy, and picked up the phone. She had to find out what
happened to Mulder. The right numbers miraculously got hit,
blurry though her eye vision was, and she waited. One ring,
two rings...
        "Hello?"
        Scully was surprised to hear the familiar voice of
her sister on the other end. "Melissa?"
        "Dana, where are you?" her voice sounded relieved.
        Scully paused a moment. "I can't tell you. Why are
you at the hospital? It's gotta be almost five in the
morning where you are."
        Melissa's voice shook. "Well, after your last call,
things went haywire with Mulder. He went into cardiac arrest
twice, his condition is unstable. His father and mother both
don't want you to talk to him. They don't want you in here
even. The doctors say he could go at any time."

        The woman on the other end of the line tried to keep
it together, but she felt her insides collapsing. Mulder
could die, and it was her fault. She never should have
brought him into VR. Never, never, never...
        "God, this is just like last time," Melissa said.
Her sister's voice ankly, that just makes me sick." Melissa
stood, grabbing her purse. She only got halfway to the door,
before Skinner crowded in front of her.
        "Melissa, it's important- what did she say?"
        "She told me to watch over Mulder for her."
        "And?" he prompted.
        "I'm not at liberty to say," she retorted, pushing
past him.

        Mulder stood in the blackness. He had started
towards the golden light after his last talk with Scully. It
hadn't been because of what she might have thought. He
wanted to remember everything when he got out of his coma,
and he knew he would never. She would know, and her eyes
would wonder at him every day, to see if he remembered, but
he never would, and she would keep lying to him. He had felt
the old familiar stirring spring within him when he'd held
her in his arms. When he'd stood back for the first time in
his life, and saw something everyone but he had before.
        Scully.
        Not as his sister, but as the beautiful woman she
was. As the person she was, a person he knew and cared
about, maybe even loved. And she didn't want any of that.
She wanted it to remain the way it was. He didn't know her
reasons, and it didn't seem important to him to know them.
All he knew was that if he couldn't remember her, beautiful
and smiling, and remember the feeling that had burst upon
him when he'd kissed her, he didn't want to live. She truly
would be the only reason for him to come back. Mulder had
never been particularly close to anyone, or at least close
enough so that he would pick them over the truth. Only
Scully had crossed that barrier as his friend and partner,
and he wanted the truth. He wanted it more than he had
wanted to make love to her in the bar. And he knew that if
he went to that golden light, he'd be able to get the truth.
He'd have all the answers.
        What would you do with them?
        The question popped in his mind for a second time.
What would he do once he had the answers? When you had all
the right answers but no one to share them with? He'd know
where Samantha was. That was important.
        But what if she was alive- she wouldn't be back to
him for years. And he'd be forced to watch life go on. To
see Scully go back to teaching at the Academy, his sister go
on living wherever she was, with her husband, or boyfriend
or whatever.
        And he'd have to see Scully with her new husband,
and the brood of children she would eventually have...
        The thought left him cold even though the golden
light was warming him now. Never seeing Sam in the flesh,
watching Scully marry someone...
        They were thoughts he never knew he had in his mind.
Ideas that had played at the back of his head, the dreams he
woke up from and never remembered what they were about. They
were the underlying truths that ran inside him. The truths
he'd kept secret, just like she would keep secret the truths
about their feelings.
        He stopped on his way to the golden light.
        And then he turned around.

        The woman stared at the man, quirking an eyebrow.
"That's a man for you. She doesn't give in, and he leaves-
it's terrible the way the male mind works these days."
        The man shook his head. "He's not like that. He
really isn't. I know you don't believe me, sunflower, but
it's true. He really cares. He's just thirsty. He wants the
truth, and she won't give that to him when he gets back."
        Her face drew up into a scowl. "She's only doing
what's right by her eyes. It would only complicate her
situation with him even more."
        "Ah, but complexities thicken the plot."
        "We're not writing a story. We're trying to end it
all."
        The man shook his head. "She'll do what's right
because she's just like you, and he'll keep pushing her in
the other direction before he realizes acceptance is the
only way, because he's just like may."
        "Let's pray for all our sakes the children will turn
out better than the parents."

        Scully awoke around five in the morning. She dressed
and managed to get discharged a few minutes before six.
Penelope was waiting for her, as instructed. "Dana, what's
this all about?"
        "Never mind right now- did you get Graham on the
flight?"
        "Yeah, one am. He's at your place-"
        "Not anymore. If Melissa did what I said, he'll be
at the hospital. Hurry, I've got to get into VR now!"
        Penelope sped down back alleys, and deserted
streets, until she came to her apartment. Scully downed a
pill dry before racing up the stairs, towards Penelope's
apartment. When she reached the place, she made a beeline
for the computer. She shoved the gloves on her hands, typed
in the scenery as a lake and dialed the number. Melissa
answered.
        "Is Graham there?" Scully asked, trying to mask her
voice.
        Graham came online. "Hello?"
        "Graham, it's me. Put the phone to Mulder's ear, and
whatever you do don't let them take it away!"
        "Gotcha!" he said. The phone rustled against the
pillow, and Scully flicked the switch. The twisting and
turning seemed to take longer this time, now that she was in
a hurry. Now that she had to hurry...
        Scully found herself in a lake. It was a long lake,
surrounded by green-leaved trees. She sighed suddenly. It
was May, spring, a time when things were supposed to be
reborn, and instead Mulder was dying. But the leaves were a
good sign, even if she had put them there. She found herself
naked in the cool waters, the only light coming from the
thousands of stars that dotted the sky above her. She
searched the banks. He would definitely be on the banks...
        "Mulder!" she cried when she saw him. He looked up,
and stared at her. She swam as far as she dared near him.
        "You took my advice, Scully. Your stomach- it's all
better now. You're all better. Thank you. I know you'll be
all right now, and I don't have to worry about protecting
you," he said, his voice serene.
        She was afraid of that serenity because it could
mean he was on the edge. "I still need you, Mulder, to help
me, protect me," she said. It was a backwards turn, but she
was willing to change history to bring him back to her. She
was even willing to think twice about being that little girl
he had thought she was.
        Mulder smiled. "You don't need any protecting,
Scully. You can do anything," he said. "Me? Well, I'll be
going someplace where I can find the truth, Scully," he
said, a fey tone in his voice.
        Everything about Mulder was fey to her. Every look
he gave was filled with the sorrow knowledge that he was
going to die, and that there was no reason he should live.
        "You can't do that, Mulder! I won't let you. You
have to stay here. I need you to help me find out who did
this to you. I need you to be here with me, as my friend,"
she pleaded.
        He pursed his lips. "That's right. I'm just your
friend. I'm just Fox Mulder the famed friend of skeptic
always Dana Scully."
        She closed her eyes and bowed her head. "Mulder, you
have no idea how much I want it to be more, but it can't,
don't you see how it could complicate things? We're already
in enough trouble with Skinner- I disobeyed a direct order
in coming to save you. I have to trust you, and what if it
doesn't work out? Where does that leave our partnership, our
trust? Where does that leave our friendship?"
        "And you aren't willing to make the gamble?"
        She was silent. "Mulder, come into the water, now,"
she ordered.
        He looked away. "I can't Scully. I'm not going to
let you throw this away. I'd rather die than go through a
facade I don't even know I'm playing!"
        "Mulder, there isn't time for games- you're going to
die!"
        "Then so be it!" he cried. He plopped on the banks,
and stared at her, treading water. "I never thought about
what it would be like without you until you were gone. I
never thought about what it would be like to try a
relationship with you until it almost came about."
        She swam closer, aware that he could see whatever he
wanted to, and knowing he wouldn't. "If you go, I'm coming
too," she said. She swam close enough so that she could
plant her feet in the muddy bottom of the lake. Mulder
buried his face in his hands. There was silence around her,
as she stared at her partner. He was still dressed in black,
and she wanted to put him in a bright white suit with purple
polka dots. Anything besides that horrible, horrible black.
His dark hair glinted in the moonlight, and his hazel eyes
were round and the pupils dilated. Wind whispered through
the branches of what looked like Oak and Elms mixed. A
weeping willow stood opposite to a dogwood, whose blossoms
fell into a small circle on the lake. Scully took another
step towards him, and felt the water lower to the top of her
chest. She took another step, and then another, until the
water was just spitting foam around her ankles. Mulder
looked up, and stared at her. Her body was ivory in the
starlight. Water glinted on her body, and Mulder felt
inflamed at the sight of her. Her figure curved in and then
out, he found himself standing before he knew what he was
doing. Crystal blue eyes dared him, and as he took a step
forward, she took a step back. Her hair looked like wet
fire, and he suddenly wanted her more than he knew. And if
having her meant going into the water, so be it!
        He reached for the edges of his shirt, and pulled it
over his head and off in a second. Scully stared at him, and
wondered why she had never noticed before how firm her
partner's chest was. Why she had never thought of those
medium shoulders as wonderful for burying your head in to
sleep on. He divested the rest of his clothing, so he was
completely naked when he came into the water. She studied
his anatomy for a moment, staring blatantly at all the
places she knew no friend had a right looking at. Scully was
under the shadow of the weeping willow, treading water.
Mulder swam towards her, his hair looking like fine silk
black. She watched him as he retreated into the water. She'd
seen all the hidden secrets, and how hard and completely
foreign he was. How could she ever look at him again and not
remember seeing him naked on the banks of her own private
mind-made lake? His eyes stared deeply at her, as he swam
up. "Scully, will you tell me? Please, when I'm out, will
you tell me?"
        She crossed her fingers underneath the cold dark
water, knowing that she would do anything, even deny the
truth to get him back...
        "Yes, I'll tell you."
        He reached a hand out, and circled her waist with
his arm, pulling him near her. Even in the cold water, his
body was stiff against hers. He leaned down and devoured her
mouth. She swooned slightly, and forbidden thoughts entered
her mind like Eve in the garden. It was stunning, to have
such a warm body next to her, while the cold waters spun
around her. But she wanted him. She put a hand on his chest,
the other ran through wet silk hair. His tongue thrust aside
her soft lips, tasting the interior of her mouth. She clung
to him, pulling him out farther into the lake, her legs
wrapping around his waist, as they sunk underwater, only
aware of each other's bodies and their own desperate
need....

        Scully flew out of VR, whipping off the glasses, and
flipped the switch. She threw the gloves at the screen, and
then picked up the phone again. She jabbed a finger at the
redial button and waited. It was five long seconds before
Graham answered. There was shouting and scuffling going on
in the background.
        "Is he all right? Is he alive?"
        Graham's voice was slowed somewhat. "I'm not sure.
They're working-" He stopped a moment, and there was yelling
in the back, and someone started crying.
        Please don't let him be dead, please don't let him
be dead...
        "He's alive, Dana."
         Scully breathed a sigh of relief she'd been holding
in for a long time. She'd done it. He was alive.
        She smiled.
        "Thank you," she whispered.

        A tired but satisfied Special Agent Dana Scully
shambled wearily into the intensive care unit. Her body felt
like it had been held in a sensory deprivation tank for
several hours after being on the plane, and everything
around her looked surreal.
        Evening light spilled in; it was close to eight
o'clock. Scully had bought a ticket for Graham to get back
to L.A., but not before hugging him thoroughly. She couldn't
imagine what she would have done without him. If he hadn't
been there to make the connection, she would never have
saved Mulder.
        There were several messages on her machine, most
from Melissa and her mother, one from Skinner. She had
erased them all, and driven straight to the hospital. She
had to see if Mulder was alive for herself. She would have
to see his hazel eyes looking up at her before she could
really believe it.
        She seated herself next to her partner. Mulder was
still pale, but some of the equipment had been moved. The
electrocardiograph was showing regular heartbeats and the
only other sign you'd have that he was sick were the tubes
in his nose, and the IV dripping some kind of medicine in
his arm. She put a hand on his own, and his eyes opened.
They brightened immediately at the sight of her.
        "Nice to see a pretty woman when you wake up. Last
time I was staring at the dots in the tiles," he spoke. His
voice, coming from his lips, in the flesh was sweet music to
her ears.
        Her heart froze only a second before she realized he
was joking. If he remembered anything from when she had
taken him into VR, there was no hope. She smiled, hoping she
wasn't blushing at the same time. "Well you're all better
all right. Probably delirious, but all better," she joked
back.
        "Yeah," he said, pushing the buttons on his bed. It
lifted him up, and he straightened himself out before
speaking again. "They shot me with something for my leg, I
think it was morphine."
        She smiled. "Forget, that- you're not delirious,
you're high."
        "As a kite. I feel great, though," he said, smiling.
        She laughed. "I can imagine- what's wrong with your
leg?"
        He shrugged. "I dunno. I twisted my ankle, and
there's a big slice from what they think is glass down my
leg."
        "Do you remember anything from before the accident?"
        "Already playing Sherlock Scully. I was going to
your place, I had to tell you something- I can't remember
what, but I needed to tell you fast. No idea why I didn't
pick up the phone- I've got your number on speed dial two,"
he added.
        "Who's number one?"
        "Home Shopping Network," he joked.
        She laughed. "What are you doing in the hospital-
you're not sick at all!"
        "I heard you were, though," he said, turning
serious.
        "From who?"
        "Aaaahh!" he said, rubbing his forehead. He wince
when his fingers hit the black and blue mark just starting
to go down. "I- I think his name was uh, Danny? Something
began with a D..."
        "Graham," she said.
        Recognition hit his face. "Yeah, him. I talked with
him- nice guy. He said you sent him out here from L.A., you
were sick, they said you were poisoned-"
        She shook her head suddenly. "Don't worry about it.
I'm fine. Just concentrate on getting better, I need you to
help me figure a couple things out," she said softly. "Do
you remember anything about being in your coma?"
        He frowned deeply. He looked up at Scully, looked
deeply into crystal blue eyes that reminded him of the blue
waters of a lake. A lake he'd been to with her once, a long
time ago. He had a feeling that something had happened that
he wasn't quite sure of. Her eyes were hiding something from
him. There was something she wasn't telling him, and he felt
slightly betrayed by her. As if she'd promised to do
something, and then refused to do it for him. He'd also
noticed something was different about her. He couldn't put
his finger on it, but there was something different about
her now. "No, I don't. No golden lights, or anything," he
said, mocking a glum tone. He felt around his forehead,
finding three small cuts there. He rubbed them vigorously,
and then groaned slightly. "Maybe it wasn't morphine. I can
still feel the pain."
        Her smile dimmed slightly, to just a pleasant look.
For a moment, he was sure he'd seen something in her face.
Something he'd never seen there before.

        Fear.
        Fear for something, but what he couldn't tell. He
only knew he wanted to find out. If he knew what was making
her so scared, maybe he could put her worries to rest. He
had seen her cry once, and it had almost broken his heart.
Or maybe he had seen her cry more than once. There was that
time, after he'd just come in time to save her from Donnie
Pfaster, but there was something else he was remembering.
When he'd held her close, and she'd beat on his chest in
frustration, or maybe anger...
        He winced. Remembering made his head ache. "Why were
you in L.A.?" he asked softly.
        Scully had her answer all planned out. "Our friend
told me to go there. He said there was someone out there who
could help you come out of your coma. It was all bogus,
though. Just some quack. She performed some kind of weird
ritual- that's where I met Graham. She said that you would
"awaken at my voice", when you heard me speak," she snorted.
"Just plain ridiculous."
        He nodded, used to her skepticism. "Nice way to
start out the spring, almost dying," he joked.
        She paused again. Could it be possible that her
thoughts had rubbed off on him in VR? Her thought about the
irony of his dying in May, a time when things were supposed
to be reborn had been private. "Ironic," she said, keeping
her calm.
        But Mulder had seen her slight hesitation. "Is
something wrong, Scully?"
        "No," she said quickly. Maybe too quickly.
        "I don't know, you just don't seem like yourself,"
he said, shrugging.
        She broke into a small smile, but he knew it was
false. "I'm fine."
        Staring down at her hands, she continued the
charade. "I was afraid you were going to die, you know. I
really thought we'd solved our last case, done our last
night of paperwork," she confessed.
        He grasped her hand in his own. "You kidding me? I
can't die, I still have the rest of those forms to fill
out," he joked.
        She smiled, and he winced slightly. "What's the
matter?"
        "Ah, nothing. My head just hurts, that's all," he
brushed off her concern. "Kiss it, make it all better,
Dana," he said in a mock whimper.
        She smiled, leaned over, and dropped a light kiss on
his forehead. Mulder felt the magic connect, the electricity
crackle instantly, he felt the change to his system that was
her. Scully felt the shock quickly, and stood, her face
flushed slightly. She turned away, finding her eyes on the
electrocardiograph instead of him. He couldn't see the
blinding tears that were welling behind her eyes, or the red
flush to her face. But he felt it also, she could tell. The
past five seconds had brought his heartbeat quicker, to a
stunning high that was gradually going down. He followed her
eyes to the electrocardiograph, as a part of his body
mimicked the heartbeat. Jesus, what had THAT been about? The
crackle and burst of emotion and feeling and hard raw lust
was totally unexpected. He blinked several times as if to
make sure this was reality. And he glanced at Scully softly.
She was wearing a low cut blue sweater that exposed her
collar bones as it touched the slope of her chest, and then
draped from there. She wore tight jeans, and he found if he
closed his eyes, he could mentally undress her. Maybe the
change hadn't been in Scully. Maybe it was him. Maybe he was
noticing all the things he had so subtly looked over before.
Like the way her figure was hourglass, the way it curved. If
he closed his eyes, he found the image of her, dripping wet,
shrouded only in her wonderful beauty was imprinted in his
mind. He had never thought of his partner this way before,
but now he was, and it was all strange and exciting, and
arousing. If just that slight brushing of her lips against
his forehead could do such things, what would it feel like
if he...
        *What was he thinking about?*
        Dana was his partner, his best friend, to even
contemplate what he was thinking was inconceivable! He'd
just been in a car accident, maybe it was just his mind
working differently. He'd almost died, maybe his mind had
just decided it should notice those things. He'd heard of
people who'd been best friends with people of the opposite
sex for years, been through a trauma, and realized that the
person was different, attractive, things that didn't matter
in a friendship.
        It was... natural, he supposed. He had always
thought of Scully as a little sister of sorts, a buddy. Not
as a beautiful woman. He had known that, but it didn't seem
important. As he stared at her now, it was imperative he
thought of her like that.
        He found ideas rushing in his head before he knew
what was happening. He wanted to reach up, ignore the pain
in his head and leg, and pull her back onto the bed, reach
his hands under that blue sweater, and feel her body, touch
those intimate places, attach his mouth to them, and never
let go of her...
        He shook himself with the realization he was doing
it again. And the fact that the room had been silent for a
few seconds, and if he didn't do something to get her to
look at him and not that damn electrocardiograph, he'd reach
up, and take her in the hospital room, no matter who was
watching, and how much he hurt. "Eeeewww! She kissed me,
cootie city, man!" he mocked. Her head snapped towards him,
and although he knew the comment was totally inappropriate,
she smiled anyways.
        So maybe he hadn't felt desire fuming inside him as
their bodies touched. Maybe he didn't remember, maybe
everything that had happened in VR had had no effect on him.
She knew in her heart this wasn't true, but her mind told
her otherwise. He won't remember. Things can go on as
they've always been. Say something now before he says
something else that makes you feel like crying. She realized
that was what she wanted to do. She wanted to flop down, lay
her head in his lap, and pour out her heart and soul. Tell
him the truth about everything, let out all the tears since
his accident that she had been holding in, while he held her
close, and promised her that everything would be all right.
That's what she really needed right now. Someone to hold her
and tell her that everything was going to be all right. That
it didn't matter that she hadn't told him. That she could
tell him, and there would be no complications, no
consequences. Everything would be just as it was before...
        Only that wasn't what she wanted.
        What she wanted was to shut and lock the door, pull
the curtain around them, and have her own wicked way with
him.
        "Hey, Scully, did you change your hair or something?
You look different to me," he commented.
        She shook her head. "No. I'm probably a mess, and
that's what you see," she joked, rubbing hands down her
sides to smooth out the powder blue sweater. It dipped
slightly at the collar, and Mulder caught the expose of
flesh with his eyes ravenously.
        He smiled. "You could never look a mess, you look
beautiful," he said. He realized quickly how that must sound
to her ears, and shrugged. "A'course, anythin' I say don't
really count, since everything looks blurry," he said,
blinking several times to make his point. The lie was quick
and easy, and well worth it when she came over, nearer to
him, and put a hand on his forehead. Calm, Mulder, he
pleaded with himself. Her touch ignited him, and he felt as
if there was magic in her fingers. No matter how forbidden,
and odd the thoughts of Scully like this were, he had them
and they were filling his mind rapidly, like a tidal wave
exploding inside him.
        "You'd better go to sleep," she whispered, even as
the electricity crackled in her from being close to him. It
was as if every part of her body was reaching out to him,
but yet she had to restrain herself. "I'll come back later,
and see you," she promised. A moment later she slipped out
the door, and Mulder was left to stare at the tiles and
wonder. He tried to remember.
        He knew he had to remember something. He was missing
something, but everything felt so right. It felt so right to
want to touch her, to want to see her. He wanted to fall
witness to her body like he had before, in what seemed to be
a dream, but felt so real. He swore he would know what it
felt like to be naked beside her, her body pressed against
his. He watched the door, as if she might come running back,
slam the door, and throw herself upon him.
        And the feeling... he knew he'd been missing
something all those years she was his partner and nothing
else. He felt the magic, soar within him. It was like he was
completing a destiny he had been denying so long. He was
fulfilling something in touching her, in wanting her.
        The feeling totally consumed him, and he realized he
would done anything for her now.
        And that he always would.

        Scully breathed a sigh of air as she made her way
down to the cafeteria of the hospital, where she found
Melissa, her mother, and Mrs. Mulder taking up residence at
a table. Melissa jumped up when she spotted her sister, ran
and hugged her. "Dana, where've you been? Did you see
Mulder? What happened?"
        Her mother also fluttered about her like this for a
minute, before they sat her down in one of the hard plastic
chairs across from Mrs. Mulder and made her talk.
        "Skinner thought you might have been responsible for
Mulder's accident. He was placing a trace on your call to
me."
        Scully sighed. "That figures. I was in L.A., look I
can't give you all the details, I had something that I had
to do," she said, before sneaking a glance that spoke
volumes to Melissa. "Everything's fine, I'm fine, I was sick
for a little while, and now I'm fine."
        "You were sick?"
        "Yeah, it was nothing, just a stomach disorder
thing. I'm fine now, except for the fact that I've got bad
jet lag, and I don't have a car to go home in."
        "I'll take you," Melissa interrupted. "You look like
you could use the rest.
        Scully was glad for the silent communication she
still had with her sister, even though her childhood was
long passed.
        Melissa was silent through the entire drive, until
she reached her sister's apartment. Once they were inside,
settled around the kitchen table with a cup of coffee, she
dared to ask, "What really happened, Dana?"
        Scully looked over at her sister for a moment, and
then began to talk.
        She told her everything. About how Mr. X had come to
her, telling her to go to Penelope, about how she'd met
Penelope, about her suspicions that Mulder had been
murdered, her first venture into SIVR, about her kiss with
Mulder, and then the horror when she realized her stomach
was rotting. Then the priest in the Church, how he'd known
all the things about her, how the door had disappeared.
About her second venture in, how it had scared her, what had
happened with her stomach, finding herself poisoned. Going
into SIVR for the third time, convincing Mulder to come
back, and her talk with Mulder later. Finally she stopped,
sighing, and looked at her sister.
        "What should I do?"
        "About Mulder?"
        "About everything."
        Melissa stayed silent for a second. "I think you
should tell him, Dana. From what you say, I think you've
found something very special with him, and I don't think you
should give that up for your job, or because it'll make
waves in your life. You promised you'd tell him, and by your
not telling him, he's going to mistrust you in a way- he'll
know you're hiding something from him. And it will reflect
in him every time he's around you.
        "As for your illness and his- I think someone is out
to get you, and I want you to be careful. I don't like
hospitals."
        Scully nodded somberly. "I can't tell him, though,
Melissa. I just can't!"
        Her sister nodded. "Get some sleep, Dana," she said,
before skirting out the door.
        That was a good idea, she decided.

        Fifteen minutes later, Scully sank onto her bed. She
couldn't believe how tired she was. It completely
overwhelmed her to the point where she felt if she opened
her eyes, she'd die with strain. She shivered in the slip,
and pulled the covers around her. Her head hit the pillow,
and she blacked out into sleep.

        Penelope thought she'd never hear the end of it.
She'd picked Graham up from the airport that afternoon, and
come home to find Sandar there, yelling and cursing up to
the high heavens.
        "I TOLD you not to tell her anything- you let her go
into VR, for God sake, she could have been killed!"
        "She needed help, Russell!" Penelope cried. "I
couldn't turn my back on her-"
        Sandar wasn't listening. "After all my instructions-
"
        "Whoa!" Graham yelled. The room quieted immediately.
Graham had a low, deep voice, made for soft delicate
whispers, and to hear it belted out in such a way startled
everyone. Dressed only in jean shorts, his hair still wet
from his shower, he had entered the room only moments ago to
hear them yelling. He was in good shape, Soloflex stomach
and chest, although you wouldn't have expected it with his
medium build.
        Sandar stared at him. "You wanted to protect her- do
you think the committee is going to let her run around
helping people whenever she feels like it? Why didn't you
stop her?" he demanded. Sandar was tall, with piercing gray
eyes that you could feel upon you. His dark hair was
receding slightly, and he reminded Penelope of a hawk. He
was British, or from British decent obviously, but he acted
high-class, as if he knew all, and everyone else was just a
silly child. That's what usually got Penelope mad- his prep
attitude.
        "Because I saw this woman- she was in bad shape, she
was all upset over this guy. I mean it. Besides, nothing bad
happened. The guy's alive, she's fine, no problems. Penelope
did somebody a favor," Graham said.
        Sandar knew there was more to Graham than was let on
to a lot of people. He knew exactly why it was wrong for
Penelope to help Scully, and Sandar knew he knew. "No she
didn't! Dammit, this agent was put out of commission for a
certain reason! And he'll come back, and he'll bring her
with him!" Sandar demanded.
        Graham pursed his lips, and looked at him over
Penelope's head. She stood in the middle, flannel shirt and
jeans hanging off her, wondering what they were talking
about with their eyes. Graham disappeared outside a moment
later, and Sandar turned away. "They'll come here again,
Penelope. Whatever you do, don't tell them anything,
please."
        He left, and Penelope collapsed on the couch,
feeling like a dejected daughter.

        Graham met Sandar in the hallway outside Penelope's
apartment. "What's going on, Russell?" Graham asked.
Deadhead facade forgotten, he stared demeaningly at the
older man.
        "This agent has been following a series of murders
that occurred out here. Someone that's been using Penelope's
technology to kill others. He was on his way out here, when
we stopped him. If he finds out about what Penelope has
accomplished, he could go public. You let her into what
Penelope has done, and now she's in danger. The committee
wants this project as secret as possible, it's in conflict
with another group though. It's very complicated, but
someone is counteracting their demand. That's the only
reason they're still alive. Penelope could be sealing their
fate instead of helping them," Sandar explained
passionately.
        Graham squared his shoulders, his face like stone.
"Dana already knows us, though."
        "Pretend you don't know her, and for God sake try
and keep Penelope out of trouble!" the older man said,
turning and stalking down the hall.
        But Graham knew he could never convince Penelope to
do that.

        Theodore Stevens sighed.
        He was getting tired of changing. They always wanted
a cat, or something related to a cat. He had changed for
several people already today, and he wasn't able to hold the
form as long now. Sometimes the powers wore down, and the
could only hold it for a few seconds. It was going to be
that way soon. He had only gotten one job since he'd been
recruited to Project Mammalia. They'd flown him out to
Washington, given him directions to the man's house, how to
get rid of him, how to get out. A simple night job, and then
he was out again. Of course, the other members of Project
Mammalia were just as eager to use their powers. They wanted
excitement, danger.
        They wanted to kill. That was what they had been
trained to do all their lives. Their daddys were soldiers
and their daddys before them.
        There were five members. Theodore, Henry, Michael,
Jacinta and Havannah. Out of all of them, Theo and Jacinta
had been the only ones sent on a special job.
        Everyone else marveled at their powers, but it had
been a lot of training- hard, difficult training that had
brought them where they were. They all had only been able to
attempt cats in public. Privately they changed into numerous
things. Havannah had slipped into dolphin form for a
millisecond once, and each was trying to come up with their
own way to top her accomplishment. It was difficult though,
because they hadn't had as much training in turning into
other things. It included study, concentration, meditation,
and will. If it suited him, Theo could be a green tiger with
purple stripes, or a black cat with a white nose. Colors
depended upon how they looked before the transformation. Now
he was performing for the latest group. Sweat beads broke
out on his forehead as he concentrated. It was difficult,
now, after he'd done it so many times. The change came. His
body went down, his arms became forelegs, his head changed
form. Now was the choosing point. What should he be?
        Panther, he decided. That was always a nice form.
His body changed, became sleek, the black tail sprouting
nicely. A moment later, there was only a black panther
sitting in the white room before a group of twelve men
shrouded behind a panel. He plopped down, and stared at the
man in the corner with yellow, glaring eyes. Myra knew how
much he hated this. "Very good, Theodore. You can change
back now," she said. Theo stood on his hind legs, and grew
slightly, his arms hanging at his sides, back into the black
suit that covered his entire body. His face was painted
black, everything was black. He sighed inwardly, keeping a
straight face, and erect posture outside.
        Good soldiers always did what they were told, no
matter what.
        Theo stared at the twelve men staring back at him,
and wished he could be in his room. Jacinta had said she
wanted to show him something special, and he was excited
about anything different. This mundane lifestyle was
beginning to bore him. At this point, he had been ready to
start planning a scheme to break out of the place with the
others. If Gary had let them in on his idea a month ago, he
might have been alive, and they might know how to get out.
Theo had taken all his maps and plans, but he still couldn't
see how Gary had planned to leave through Sector B. It was a
dead end, the only duct was minute- too small for a mouse
even. Why would he go that way when it would have been
easiest to attack the guards in Sector A and go through the
ventilation system?
        Theo would rather have an assignment than escape,
truth be known. His first and only assignment, however easy,
had also been exciting. Jumping out of the darkness, black
leopard form. The man's cry of surprise- he had torn the
paper to shreds from under the man's hands. Then after he
was on the floor, Theo had turned into human form. What he
hadn't counted on was being so tired. He had crouched in
panther form for hours, and he was tired. The man had gotten
to his feet surprisingly quick, and jumped him. That was why
Theo had the crescent-shaped cut above his right eye.
Landing on the glass table, hearing it break under him. When
he gotten up too quickly, caught the side of his face on a
piece of glass. But that had been soon forgotten. He hadn't
fought someone for a long time, and he was eager to begin.
The man had been in excellent shape, and he hadn't expected
the force with which he fought. Nor the gun tucked away in
his hand. It had gone off once, embedding itself in the
couch. Theo was quick, too.
        That was when he broke out of the window, landing in
the dumpster in black cat form. The man was upstairs for a
few minutes, long enough for Theo to climb into his car,
poised in cat form. The man, speeding through the streets,
hadn't noticed the cat in the back seat, hadn't noticed it
until Theo had brought a sharp claw across his face, and the
car had spun out of control. Theo had suffered for the
accident with a sore back from hitting the steering wheel.
But he'd been careful enough to leave the back window open
to escape.
        He glanced at the twelve men, and hoped Jacinta had
something equally exciting to show him.

        Scully dreamed.
        She was laying in a field. A bright green field with
waist high grass swaying in the wind, and wildflowers
growing all over the place. She was spread out, arms and
legs apart. A breeze ruffled the flowing white dress that
adorned her body. The bright blue sky stood parallel to the
earth, puffy white clouds floating overhead. It was so
peaceful out here. She didn't want to go get married yet. It
was so beautiful, so wonderful out here. A man dressed in a
tuxedo was approaching. She smiled when she recognized her
partner. She was going to marry Mulder, she realized. That
was nice. Mulder was a nice guy, he loved her, he'd take
care of her. That was something her grandmother had
instilled in her. When you get married, make sure the man
will take care of you. Make sure that he would rather die
than see harm come to you, Dana, and nothing bad will ever
happen. That was good.
        She waited, and let him come to her. Scully smiled
when he approached, and stood over her. He fell to his knees
beside her, and she sat up. "Hello, Mulder," she said
cheerfully.
        "Why aren't you coming?"
        She sighed. "It's so peaceful out here- can we wait
another day?"
        His face was solemn. Too solemn for a man about to
be married. "I would wait forever, but they won't," Mulder
said. "They wanted me to talk to you, to get you to come to
your senses. I only wish I could come to mine," he breathed.
        She didn't want to listen to anything that would
confuse her. "I love it out here. It seems like there's just
the earth and the sky. Lay down next to me," she insisted,
pulling his shoulder. He obliged her, and she reached out
and clasped his hand. She was getting married, it was a
beautiful day, life was beautiful.
        She smiled at her future husband. He was so
handsome, so sweet. He would wait forever for her, he said.
        She believed that. Grinning impishly, she rolled on
top of him, and kissed his lips softly. "We can stay out
here, we can wait just a little longer."
        She undid his tie suggestively, but he didn't share
her enthusiasm for playing. "What's the matter, Mulder?
Don't you want to make love?"
        He closed his eyes. "I wish that more than anything
in the world," he breathed. "It won't be true, though."
        Scully stopped smiling. "Why not?"
        A hand reached up from the ground and grabbed her.
She screamed, and clutched at Mulder, dragging him down
under the soil with her. Down, down, down, past the graves
of her ancestors, as she screamed all the way, dirt entering
her mouth, staining the white dress. Mulder held her all the
way down, until they found themselves in a cavern. She
looked around scared and confused. A man and a woman stood
before them. She recognized them immediately as the couple
she had seen in the bar, and in the restaurant. Why are they
here? What do they want?
        "Hello, Dana," the woman said. She was short, round,
with short black hair and the kindest face Scully had ever
seen. "It's time."
        Scully knew immediately what they were talking
about. She turned to Mulder. He was so beautiful, and when
those soft brown eyes looked at her, they held such love...
        She wanted to drown in the flood, but her own heart
wouldn't let her.
        "Promise, Dana," he begged. Those eyes were filling
with tears, and her own did simultaneously. "Please
promise..."
        She had to promise, she knew the words to say. But
she was holding back. Something inside her was protesting...
        "I love you."
        Complications, complications.
        "I will always love you."
        Stop, stop!
        "I promise to you..."
        Turn back now!
        "My heart.."
        No!
        "My body.."
        Last chance!
        "And my soul," she said, completing the oath.
Completing her destiny. Mulder's eyes shone with such
adoration that the tears from her eyes bubbled over. And
then his face changed, and she felt her own change. And
suddenly she wasn't staring at Mulder, but rather looking at
the other couple. The big burly man looked younger though.
The woman was slimmer, with long dark hair that came down to
her hips. Her brown eyes held waves of love for the man. The
man smiled graciously at her.
        "I'm with you, my love. Always and Forever."
        "Why didn't I tell you..."


        Scully awoke with a jolt, staring at the ceiling of
her apartment. Her first conscious thought was of Mulder.
Mulder had been in her dream, Mulder was sick, she had to go
to him. It was nighttime out, she saw that. She glanced at
the clock that read two in the morning. She got up, and
slipped on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt. She put on a heavy
winter jacket, and rushed outside. It was cold for a May
night, but the cold didn't bother her. She had to see
Mulder, it was imperative that she see him now.
        The nurses tried to keep her out of the room, but
Nurse Wilkins advised them otherwise. Scully sighed when she
saw him, asleep. She shut the door, and pulled the curtain
around them, sliding her jacket off. She sat by his bedside,
and took his hand. He roused from sleep, and looked at her.
"Late night, Scully? Margaret told me you went home."
        "I was home, I came back. How do you feel?" she
asked suddenly.
        He blinked, and let out a breath of air. Moonlight
came in through the open window, and it was the only source
of illumination in the alcove she'd created. She noticed the
electrocardiograph had been moved away, as well as the tubes
in his nose. "Okay, I guess. I'm not high anymore. They took
away some of the clutter. They say I should be out tomorrow
afternoon if the doctor OK's it," he responded.
        Scully nodded. "Lemme see your leg," she said,
lifting the bedcovers from his legs. She stood, and examined
his right one. A long scratch that looked like it could
possibly leave a ghost of a scar ran from his knee to his
calve. "That doesn't look to bad. Why did they give you
morphine for it?"
        He shrugged. "I don't know. It was bothering me a
lot though. They thought I might have had an infection, they
gave me some antibiotics, shot me up with the morphine, and
I was fine. What about you? Melissa told me you were
poisoned with mentholydis," he said, concerned.
        She paused. "What else did she tell you?"
        He shook his head. "Nothing. Just that you'd been
poisoned with mentholydis by someone- whatever that is."
        "It's a drug researchers have been trying to come up
with. They've got the chemical formula, but not the actual
chemical, they say. And it wasn't the mentholydis. It was
coelene. I ingested the mentholydis, it mixed with the acids
of my stomach, and acted as a poison- coelene," she
explained rapidly.
        It was silent in the room as she draped the covers
back over him, and dragged the chair nearer to him. She
plopped down in it, and leaned her head against the side of
the railing. "I talked with our friend today," he said
softly.
        She twisted in her seat, and looked up at him.
        "He said we've got to be careful. Listen, Scully, I
remembered something earlier- did you find the file in my
drawer?"
        She nodded. "Yeah, your apartment was trashed."
        "Then you know about the people found comatose?
Good. It relates to an X-File from 1978- three men were
found in a coma. All were in top physical condition. He told
me about this woman- her name is Penelope Melicin. All the
people that have been found were near or around a phone when
they died. The last person to call them was this woman."
        Scully froze at Penelope's name. She contemplated
telling him everything right there and then before she
remembered she couldn't. "What does this have to do with
what happened to you?"
        "I don't know. That's what we're going to L.A.
tomorrow night to find out. I've already booked a flight and
reservations," he explained subtly.
        "Jesus, Mulder, you've just got out of the hospital-
"
        "You know me. Workaholic. Besides, I wanna talk more
to your friend Graham."
        She nodded. She'd just have to call Graham and
Penelope ahead of time. She made a mental note to do that in
the morning. She yawned suddenly, not bothering to try and
stifle it.
        "Tired, Scully?" he asked softly.
        She looked at him and nodded. "Yeah, li'l bit. Do
you mind if I spend the night here?" she asked lazily. "I'm
so tired..."
        "Yeah, here, you can have one of my pillows," he
said, taking the bottom one from underneath him. He set the
railings down on his bed, and she drew her chair nearer. He
propped the pillow next to him, and she laid her head upon
it. She smiled at him before closing her eyes, her head
laying on the bed, her body curled on the chair. He watched
her for a moment, wondering why she seemed so enchanting to
him, before drifting into sleep.
        He awoke less than and hour later, and stared at his
partner. She twisted in her sleep, and he woke her up
gently.
        "Mulder... what?"
        "Listen, you can come into bed with me. That's gotta
be an uncomfortable position," he reasoned. She was so
beautiful, how could he put her in pain? Besides, he wanted
someone warm to sleep next to. She almost protested before
climbing up into the hospital bed. He pulled the blanket
over her, and put an arm around her shoulders, holding her
protectively to him. She put a hand on his chest, and looked
up at him, batting her eyelashes suddenly. He leaned down,
caught in a sudden urge of lust, and pressed his lips
against hers hard. The feeling was immeasurable. He soared,
the electricity crackled, and shocked him. She tasted
delicious, especially when she opened her mouth to him,
tasting back. She pulled back suddenly, staring at him, with
her own dark need. She pulled the T-shirt over her head, and
he stared at her. The curves of her body were just as he had
thought them, and she lay on top of him, adorning his face
with kisses. His hand trailed up her bare back, the other
tangling in her red hair. He wanted her so much. He sat up,
and she undid the back of his hospital gown, yanking it
down. She touched his chest, warm and firm under her
fingers, and he responded the same, allowing his mouth to
wander down, and suckle her...
        Mulder awoke in a sweat from his dream. He glanced
down at Scully, sleeping with her head on the pillow. It had
only been in his mind. "Dammit," he whispered softly, and
looked down at her. The aftermath of the erotic dream still
upon him. He wondered if she would look that way underneath
the T-shirt. He wondered if she would climb in with him if
he offered. If she would allow him to do all those things he
had been dreaming about to her. He touched her hair, and
gasped slightly. It was as smooth as it had been in his
dream, softer even. The lust inside him was almost
animalistic in its urges. It came to him from a time when
men hauled their wives over their backs like a sac of
potatoes after the wedding, and fought wild bears with fire
and clubs.
        She stirred slightly, and if she would have seen the
look on his face, she would have been mortified. He knew
what had happened. Melissa had come back, and told him
everything Scully had told her. About SIVR, about the way
she felt....
        He could remember it in a haze, though. Kissing her
on the piano, the transition she'd made from girl to woman
before his eyes, when he'd held her close, and she'd
promised to tell him. But if she could hold out, then, by
God, so could he. He could remember her body, ivory white,
the water on her body glistening from starlight above. He
had lied, somewhat. Mr. X ÷.had÷ called him, and told him
about SIVR, but not told him all those things. He wanted to
go to Graham and Penelope, because he wanted to use SIVR, or
he wanted her to use it. Either way, he had to get in there
with her.
        It was the only place where he could make her
understand everything.
        He stroked her head softly. Something inside him was
bubbling to the surface. It was something magical, the part
of him that sparked and shivered every time he touched her.
It gave him an unearthly feeling. As if everything he did
and said was written in the stars. As if the fact that this
would happen was legendary. As if he was ending something
that had been started before he was born. Something ancient
and beautiful.
        There was more to falling in love with her. It would
cause so many things, but in the end it would all be
wonderful. The thought that other people were depending on
him and Scully left him in awe of her. Generation after
generation had been trying to do this, striving to do
this...
        Someone had told him that, a long time ago, someone
had told him what to do, where to go, and they pointed her
out to him...
        Mulder leaned down, and kissed her forehead softly,
knowing he didn't have a choice.

        The man gave the woman an "I told you so" look.
"See? It's true."
        She smiled, but her heart was heavy. "She's scared.
She's played by the rules all the time, and this was one of
her rules, you know. She wants this, but it's forbidden in
her eyes."
        The man looked tiredly down at her. "You're right,
you know. It is just like it was. God help both of them."
        "I've been using all my influence on her. That's the
only reason she came here. I don't know if it's working,
though."
        "He's got a clue as to what this means."
        "What do you mean?"
        "He knows there's more at stake her than just his
personal life. He doesn't know what exactly, but he knows
something. I've watched him- he works better under
pressure."
        "This isn't work," the woman reminded him. "This is
life."
        The man's eyes closed for a second. If only he had
had the determination of this age back then. Maybe he could
have kept her from slipping through his fingers. Maybe the
generations forever after wouldn't have to endure this.
        Maybe, maybe, maybe.
        The stars had written it all a long time ago, and
this was how the story went. But the man was almost sure a
new one would be born in the future. He could feel it firing
up, preparing for its flight.
        He glanced down at the woman, and hoped this new
star could burn forever.
        If it did, the story would change.
        But if it didn't, if it flared and then died, it
would be as it always had been.
        The man didn't think he could take that. If the
story changed maybe he could say them. Maybe they could be
together at last.
        Maybe, maybe, maybe.

        Scully awoke in the morning, in the hospital. She
took in a deep breath, and stifled a yawn. She lifted the
upper half of her body, and grimaced as something in her
neck twisted. She began to wish she wouldn't have come to
the hospital last night. But then, she might not get this
chance. She sat up, and looked at her partner. He looked
like a little boy, she thought, touching the side of his
face gently. But at the same time he looked dangerous, like
he'd wake up any moment and go after you. She gazed at him,
pure care in her eyes. Her hand traipsed up to the small
bruise on his forehead, and then to the three tiny scratch
marks. A cat had attacked him- but how had it gotten into
the car? He still didn't remember what had happened before
that, and the information was crucial. She wished suddenly
that she knew who had done this to him. Find them, and tear
their eyes out.
        She shook with the violent thought.
        She softly brought her hand to the side of his face.
He had the stubble of a few days growth beard. It wasn't as
if she hadn't touched him before. She had touched him a lot
of times, gentle, explaining touches. But after what had
happened in VR, it was as if something she hadn't even
realized was there, had opened inside her. And it made her
crave for his skin against hers in any way, shape or form.
Even being near him sated her somewhat.
        Scully was scared for a moment. How could she go on
like this? With him thinking they were still just friends,
when she really ached for his body? Could she stand it again
when those brown eyes looked at her with all the warmth and
compassion of a friend?
        She turned away from him, withdrawing her hand. She
wanted him. She needed him, and she had to pretend that they
were only friends? She wasn't sure she could do it, but she
knew she had to. It was a rule she set for herself that had
helped her keep every job she'd ever had- never get
involved. If you got involved with other people in your job,
things got complicated. And she knew that if Skinner found
out she was involved with Mulder, he'd snap her out of the X-
Files division so fast it would make her head spin. Her job
was to evaluate Agent Mulder. And she would certainly be
biased if she was in love with him. And everything would go
downhill. If someone else evaluated Mulder, they wouldn't
bother to look beyond the surface, like she had. They would
see a lunatic, and that was all they would see. They
wouldn't see the person behind it, with all his secret
torments, and personal delights. And then it would be like
it was before. She would be teaching autopsy techniques, and
he'd be sitting in a building someplace doing surveillance
taps. And he would end up hating her, because he'd lost the
X-Files because of her.
        No matter what, she never wanted him to hate her.
She wouldn't take the risk of becoming more than friends.
Not when there were so many things that could go wrong, so
many horrible ways they could end up.
        Mulder stirred, and she looked at him and smiled
brightly. "Morning," she said cheerfully.
        He opened his eyes one at a time, blinking several
times before he looked at her. "Whadre you so happy about?"
he asked sourly.
        She laughed, and uncurled herself from the chair.
"Thanks for loaning me your pillow, Mulder," she said,
swooping down and placing a quick kiss on his forehead.
"There, that make the pain all better?" she teased. She
realized vaguely she was openly flirting with him, something
she never did. It was usually an off comment or two, but
this time she was smiles and seduction, and she found she
didn't care.
        "Not really. You're too happy this morning, and I
didn't get any sleep 'cause of my flat pillow," he
complained. "I'm not ready to go out and play."
        She laughed again. "You're so funny, Mulder. I'm
gonna do this tomorrow night- I swear, you're such a riot!"
she said in a middletone voice, so he didn't know if she was
being sarcastic, complimenting him, or offending him.
        He grabbed the extra pillow, and threw it over his
face, shutting his eyes. It was too early to think at all.
"Go away, Scully!" he moaned. He pulled the pillow off of
his face, and looked at her when she didn't reply back, and
realized she was gone.
        He stared at the morning sunlight drifting in, and
felt an emptiness in him that her not being there caused. "I
didn't mean it," he whispered to the air.
        Scully by the door paused. *I didn't mean it.*
        It wasn't the type of thing Mulder would normally
say. She was tempted to go back there, pin him down, and
look into those hazel eyes. See what they really knew.
Instead she left the room very quietly.

        She didn't come to see him again, and called
Skinner. She told him she would be taking the day off, and
she was sorry for going AWOL those few days, that she'd had
some private business to attend to.
        *Yeah, right, Dana, seducing Mulder on a piano is
private business.*
        Damn good thing Skinner didn't know that.
        Skinner had been very nice, nicer than usual, she
thought, and then remembered that he had been tapping
Mulder's phone because he thought she was trying to kill
him. He probably felt guilty.
        In any case, it helped her a lot not having to deal
with him. When she got a call around noon, though, she had a
feeling she was going to be dealing with someone who was a
lot more tiring to be around.
        "Get ready, Scully. I called Skinner, he's OK'd our
investigation into the L.A. thing. I got us tickets on the
six o'clock flight tonight. I should be out of the hospital
by tonight," Mulder said quickly. He hung up before she
replied, or even had a chance to think.
        She sighed heavily, and then went to pack her bags.

        Scully met her partner at the airport. He walked to
her with a slight limp. But he was happy, she could tell. He
was being especially nice, letting her have her pick of
seats, and he'd even been nice enough to book first class
seats.
        "Mulder, I hope this isn't on Bureau expense-
Skinner will skin us!"
        He laughed. "Nope, figured I'd treat you since
you've been so nice, flying to L.A. and seeing psychics
even," he joked.
        She settled down into her seat, and looked at him.
He looked better, happier, more alive. He was dressed in
what she called civilian clothes: faded jeans and a T-shirt.
He leaned into the seat, looked over at her. "Dammit, I just
realized something."
        She looked over from her window, concerned. "What?"
The plane's engines roared, and she checked her seatbelt.
        He held up a finger, silencing her a moment. The
plane screamed down the runway, and hefted itself into the
air. He undid his seatbelt, and unfastened hers before she
could touch it. "I'm gonna be spending the better portion of
the night next to you again," he groaned.
        She laughed. "Well, I'll just have to take that
pillow," she joked, snatching the headrest pillow, and
setting it behind her back. "Ah, that's better. So, show me
this old X-File," she said, determinedly changing the
subject. She had caught herself flirting unabashedly with
him again, and she wondered what the hell she was doing.
        Mulder smirked. He handed her the file, and she read
through it.
        "Wait, Mulder, it says these people all died of
heart attacks-"
        "But they all received a phone call before they
died, and each victim had never had heart trouble before,"
he counteracted.
        She looked up at him and sighed. Then she returned
to her reading.
        Mulder leaned back into the seat and fell asleep.

        The dream started out like all the others he had
ever had.
        He was alone, in his bed. Only though when he should
have looked at himself and seen a twelve year old boy's
body, he saw his own. He sat up quickly, and looked around.
He was back in his bedroom, and something had woken him up.
The plane models that were suspended above his bed began to
shake suddenly. He pushed the covers aside, and stood. The
ground was shaking. A spaceship model fell off his dresser.
Wearing a pair of jeans like he always did when he slept, he
went to the door to his room. It swung open for him, and he
ambled out, trying to keep his balance. Everything started
shaking. Harder, violently. A scream pierced the silence,
and he glanced down the hall to his sister's room. Her bed
was empty.
        Fear rose within him, like it always did in his
dreams, and he began to run. Down the stairs. Faster,
faster, he had to go faster if he wanted to save her...
        He exploded into the living room, and looked around.
There she was, standing with her back to him in the doorway,
shaking. He had to get to her before the light came. He made
his way around glass from broken picture frames in bare
feet. She turned, and he froze. She was an arm's length
away, but she wasn't.
        Standing there wasn't Samantha, but Scully. She was
trembling, holding herself. Her blue eyes were filled with
tears. "Mulder, help me!" she pleaded. She was dressed all
in white, like some sort of angel. Her red hair fell to her
shoulders, and she looked desperate. So desperate for
something, anything...      The light came.
        It burst through the windows, and she began to rise.
"No!" he cried. He reached out and grabbed her hands, but
she wouldn't stop rising. He clung to her wrists tightly,
knowing he couldn't let go. He could give someone else away
to them. They already had something from him.
        "Mulder help!" she cried, as she began floating
towards the window. He let go of her wrists, gathered his
bearings, jumped and caught her around the waist. She
wouldn't come down. She rose higher, and his feet lifted off
of the ground. He knew she should have fallen by now. He
outweighed her, she should be in his arms on the ground...
        But she was still floating. He climbed on her body,
groping for anything that would keep him firmly attached to
her.
        "Not her! Bastards! Not her!" he yelled. He held
tight, and wouldn't let go. Suddenly, he was suspended in
his own light, and he couldn't move. But she was. He
couldn't keep his hold on her, his arm slipped from around
her neck, the other left her waist, and then he fell to the
ground, helpless to watch as she floated away.
        "NO!"

        Mulder awoke in a cold sweat, looking around him.
        "Mulder, what, what?" Scully's voice next to him
asked. She couldn't hide the true concern in her voice, no
matter what.
        He turned, and stared at her. She saw fear and anger
blatant in round hazel eyes. He realized slowly that he had
grabbed her arm. He unwrenched his fingers, and took several
deep breaths. She stared at him. The lights had been dimmed
for the passengers to sleep, and Scully had almost
accomplished that when he'd grabbed her. "Mulder?" she asked
again, softer. She put a hand on his knee softly. He turned
and looked back at her. "What?"
        He closed his eyes. "I just- a nightmare. That's
all."
        When he opened his eyes, and looked at her, he felt
a wave of love that was immeasurable. Her blue eyes were
large and concerned, and they were staring at him with such
care...
        He wanted to hold her, and put all her worries to
rest, but he dared not. "I just had a nightmare."
        She tilted her head softly, and looked at him. "You
sure you're all right?" she asked.
        He nodded, and she leaned back in her seat. He
realized about the same time she did where her hand was, and
she snatched it away like he had bitten her. He stared over
at her, trying to dispel the tidal wave of desire and love
that burst. He wanted to be with her so much...
        "Yeah, I'm fine, Dana," he said, smiling weakly at
her. "Go to sleep. You look like you could use it."  She
leaned back in her seat, and tilted her head to one side. In
a moment, he heard her quiet, rhythmic breathing. Mulder
touched her face gently. She was so beautiful. He really
needed to get to L.A. He had to take her into SIVR. He had
to lay all his cards on the table, and he could never
adequately do that here. Only in a fantasy world could he do
that. He reclined in the seat, letting his head lean towards
her own. He looked at her face close up, and wondered if she
would wake up if he dared kiss her. He could feel her breath
upon his face. He leaned over, gently, and pressed his lips
against hers. It was soft, and her mouth didn't respond, but
it quenched his thirst for the moment. If only he could hold
her...
        He fell asleep, his hand just touching hers, his
head no more than an inch from her own.
        Scully felt his lips, and forced herself not to wake
up, put her arms around his neck, and kiss him back. She
fell back asleep, not yet ready to ponder why he had kissed
her.

        By the time they arrived in L.A., the incident was
far from her mind. She could only vaguely think as Mulder
woke her, and they checked into the hotel. The balconies
draped inside, hanging over a pool. A jungle gym and an
arcade stood opposite to that. Scully was aware of the smell
of chlorine drifting up and hitting her nostrils as they
clambered into the elevator. She blinked, and looked at
Mulder. When they reached side-by-side rooms, she paused a
moment, taking longer than usual to open her door. She
wondered if it would be so out of line to invite him in.
Catching herself, and doubting her sanity, she thrust the
key in the lock, twisted it, and entered, shutting the door
behind her. She glanced around the room. It was cream
colored, with a stucco ceiling. She sighed, dropped her
suitcase, and peeled off her jeans and shirt. She
contemplated only for a moment getting her pajamas, and then
decided to sleep as she was.
        It was much too hot, and she was much too tired to
care, anyways.

        Theo wandered into Jacinta's room after the show was
finished.
        "Doesn't anybody knock?" she asked, infuriated.
        He stared at her, dressed only in a thin cotton
towel, and smiled suavely. "I hope you wanted to show me
more than that," he teased.
        She rolled her eyes and seethed. "Would you just
turn around so I can get dressed?" she asked, biting her
lip, and tapping her foot impatiently.
        It did strange things to Theo, and he couldn't seem
to take his eyes off of her. Her dark black hair fell to her
elbows in a tangled mess, surrounding a pale face that
hadn't seen real sunlight in a while. Her dark green eyes
narrowed sharply. "Oh, fine, if you're just going to stand
there like an idiot- I don't care!" she huffed. She opened
the dresser, and pulled a long black T-shirt out. She set it
on the bed, and then removed the towel from her body,
slipping the T-shirt on. Theo turned, and she looked up at
him with a slight sneer as she pulled on her underwear. Theo
reminded her of a big, burly truck driver. He was broad-
shouldered, tall, boyishly  handsome, with a crop of scampy
blond hair that was always ruffled and looked like he had
just spent the night on the street. He could be, however, a
pain, a tease and hopelessly insufferable when he wanted to.
Now he was just taking in the situation and amusing himself,
and she didn't like it one bit. He had a gentleman's
manners, but was more practiced in flirting. She wondered
how he could have gotten into the military, let alone in
Project Mammalia. But he was, all around, a decent guy, and
the closest thing she had to a boyfriend since joining
Project Mammalia, and, ultimately, canceling her social
life.
        Havannah, with her straw blond hair was always vying
for Theo's attentions, but he paid her little, condemning
her as a "brainless twit with no mind of her own".
Therefore, she was jealous of Jacinta, and Jacinta could do
nothing to change her mind otherwise.
        Henry was older, in his mid-fifties, and more of a
grandfather-type person. He was still as strong as an ox,
and was being used as an overseer more than a worker.
Michael was in his mid-thirties, unabashedly gay, and
everyone's friend.
        Jacinta sighed softly, and dried her hair. "You can
turn around, now," she insisted.
        He did so, and smiled, regaining his confidence. "I
take it you wanted to show me something other than that, but
I'd be incredibly happy to look at that again if you want me
to," he said playfully. She pursed her lips, and sat down on
the bed. "Oooh, I like where this is going," he said,
amused. He grinned and plopped down next to her.
        "It'll be going straight to hell if you tell anyone
about this," she muttered, leaning under the bed. Theo
reached out, and stroked her long black hair softly, pulling
it away from her face gently. She turned back, and a thick
curl of him smacked him in the face so hard he was afraid he
got whiplash. He rubbed the side of his cheek, his mood
sobering, and looked at what she had retrieved at such a
great price. It was a laptop, a pair of black goggles and
gloves with all kinds of wires hooked up to them.
        He quirked an eyebrow. "You got... new clothing?" he
asked.
        "You're being stupid on purpose, Theodore," she
insisted. He could tell she was brimming to anger. She
almost never used his full name. "They're VR goggles and
gloves. I was talking with this woman a few months ago on
the Internet. She went by the name Pencil, and I paid her to
send me these goggles and gloves. I've got connections, and
they let the package slide away unnoticed by the guards.
Anyways, she also sent me a disk, and I've been able to
enter VR using these A few weeks ago, I tried something
different. I called her place, and tried to bring someone
else in with me to VR using my modem. I did something
thought, and I as in this place- it's like VR, but it
wasn't. It was so different, almost like it was real. I've
been using secondary and tertiary lines, and I brought other
people I met on the Internet into this thing with me. I want
to bring you in," she explained.
        Theo was skeptical. "How? I don't have these goggles
and stuff. What's so great about VR anyways? It's just like
real life-"
        "You don't understand. You can do anything in here.
Things feel so different- I can't explain it. Listen I'm
going to call you in your room. I want you to pick up as
soon as possible, and keep the phone to your ear, or else
you might not be pulled in- I can't explain how it works- it
just works is all I know. Go, you'll see," she promised.
        He pursed his lips and rose. "So where will we go?"
        She smiled seductively. "Someplace warm and
secluded."
        He grinned. "I'm gone, man," he said, slipping out
the door to his own room.
        Jacinta smiled, and pulled on her VR goggles and
gloves.
        It was going to be an interesting night.

        Mulder awoke the next morning, staring at the stucco
ceiling of his hotel room. He got up, dressed, yanking on a
gray suit. He would have preferred shorts and a T-shirt. The
California May weather was murder when you were a member of
the FBI. He checked his watch, and knocked at the thin door
that separated his room from Scully's.
        "Scully," he called softly. He checked his watch
again. It was only seven-thirty, and they had gotten in
late, or early depending on how you looked at it. He opened
the door softly, and peeked inside.
        He really wished he hadn't showered, and could go
start a cold one when he spied her. She was lying on the
bed, wearing only her underwear. The sight of her inflamed
him, and he sucked in a deep breath, shut the door quickly
before he did something he'd regret, and knocked harder on
the door, almost yelling her name. "Scully!"
        "I'm up, Mulder- don't come in, I'm naked," she
called after a moment.
        His ears fancied her taking out the not part of the
contraction, and inviting him in. He took several deep
breaths. No one had ever affected him like she did. A moment
later the door opened, and she tossed her hair back. He
reached a hand out, and wiped a smudge of lipstick from her
upper lip, where it went out of bounds in her rush to get
ready. She was wearing loose pastel green slacks, a white
blouse, and a pastel green vest. Her hair was only brushed
back lazily. She tried not to grab him and throw him on the
bed when he touched her lip. It was hard holding back,
pretending. She remembered when eh had kissed her on the
plane. Why had he done that? She would have to be extra
careful. If he was starting to remember what had happened in
VR, or feeling the effects of it too deeply, her plan was
shot. "sorry," she said, turning away from him. Trying not
to concentrate on how close his body was, and now deep her
desire to have him was. "I must have overslept."
        He nodded and stepped away. The air between their
bodies had become electrically charged in the small time he
had spent so close to her, and it was tense in the room.
        Scully thought about the kiss he'd stolen on the
airplane all the way to Penelope's apartment. She'd called
Penelope and Graham on the plane while he had been asleep,
and explained the situation to them. Penelope had been
reluctant to do this, but had finally agreed, so there was
no reason for her to be nervous. After all, the kiss had
been just that: a kiss. Nothing to get nervous about.
        But she was.
        She couldn't help remembering. Why had he kissed
her? Did he remember? But she questioned her motives for not
telling him for the seven millionth time since he'd awakened
from his coma. She also questioned how long she could keep
up this charade. She wanted him. It was like a constant need
inside her that wouldn't go away. She had to have him, it
was mandatory. She could remember having his lips so soft
and gentle upon hers, just in that simple kiss. And
awakening from her slumber to find his hand covering hers
and his face only inches away. Mere inches she could have
crossed in a heartbeat, and changed everything. There was a
minute possibility Skinner would trust her to keep her
judgment, and not split them up. She thought back to the
phone taps, and decided that the possibility had a
snowball's chance in hell.
        *Stop it!* she scolded herself. *There's never going
to be a possibility of you and Mulder- it just will not
happen, so stop dwelling over it. You've got a job to do-
keep up the facade, and concentrate on work, not on him!*
        "Mulder, are you sure you don't remember anything
else from the night of the accident?" she asked softly.
        He looked over at her and frowned. "Not really,
everything's kinda hazy. It's like I remember some things,
but others are a complete mystery to me, and I'm not even
sure they really happened."
        She nodded. Scully had remembered nothing after
Duane Barry had kidnapped her, she had been lucky to
remember her own name. It hadn't mattered to Mulder though.
It was the first time she hadn't seen him looking for the
truth, and it warmed her. He had paused in his search, and
decided that it wasn't as important as her. People were more
important than anything else. She knew how Mulder loved the
truth, how he would risk life and limb to find it.
        But he wouldn't risk her.
        She knew that. She knew that ever since her
disappearance he had guarded her. He had been careful not to
drag her into anything, to make sure to stop the trail of
breadcrumbs when things got too dangerous. It was one of the
first obviously noticeable signs she'd gotten from him that
he cared about her, and it brought a smile to her face. He
was so wonderful, so completely wonderful. How could she lie
to him? How could she ever explain what she felt to him? It
brought a tight clench and a drenched warm feeling to
remember how he'd given her cross back. If she had been
alone with him then, and in better condition, she was sure
he would have hugged her until her body went limp, and half
her body was numb. She had seen pure happiness in his face
that day. Something in his eyes that she had never seen
there before. There was still pain, the pain he always
carried with him, but it was overshadowed by something else.
Something that made dandelion fuzz coat her insides, and
bring a smile that she couldn't hide, nor did she want to.
        She looked over at him with soft blue eyes that
showed compassion. He had been through so much pain. If he
found out, he would be in even more, because they couldn't
act on their feelings. She wanted to, she wanted to act like
the lovers they should be, but she couldn't. She would break
a rule if she did that.
        Her mind wandered, remembering a lot of things, and
before she knew it they were pulling up in front of Penelope
Melicin's apartment.
        Penelope played her part. No, I don't know what SIVR
is, no I've never met Agent Scully before...
        Scully was thankful, but even so, Mulder had gotten
a good look at her computer.
        "Where were you on April seventeenth?" Mulder asked,
sipping a cup of coffee and studying Penelope's computer
system.
        Penelope looked at Scully worridly, and said, "I
don't remember. Probably at home- no, wait- that was the
night me and Graham went to the movies all night- I remember
because we almost got kicked out for booing the end of the
first movie." She smiled.
        "Graham would be?"
        "Oh, my friend- I think he's here..." she stood, and
walked to an open window. "Graham come here!" she called.
        Scully felt a knot twist in her stomach. How was she
going to explain about Graham being here? Graham stepped
out, dressed in a long-sleeved untucked blue T-shirt and a
sleeveless khaki shirt over that. His long black hair was
pulled back into a ponytail, and he wore baggy khaki shorts
that came to over his knees. Hiking boots and sunglasses
completed the California image.
        "Graham, Scully didn't tell me you know Penelope,"
Mulder said, walking over to the other man.
        Graham pulled off his sunglasses, and shrugged.
"Yeah, well, we just met at the psychic's, talked, you know.
Hey, Dana," he called, smiling.
        "I didn't know you lived here," she said, pretending
to be surprised. She came, and hugged him briefly.
        The hug did not go unnoticed, by Mulder or Penelope.
Penelope felt a twinge inside her, and spike something raw
at Scully. Mulder wished he could have so easily pulled her
into his arms, for no reason other that being able to see
her again. He would gladly pull her there for any reason in
the world, or no reason at all.
        "Why are you guys here? Good to see you outta that
hospital bed, Mulder," Graham added.
        "Oh, um, they wanted to question me about a few
things, there's been a bunch of people who've been killed,
and the last number called was mine. I don't know any of
them, though," Penelope added. Nervous blue eyes asked why,
but Scully couldn't say. "I was just saying that you and I
went to the movies on April seventeenth-"
        "Yeah, remember we almost got kicked out?"
        She smiled, "Yeah."
        Mulder cleared his throat. "This is rather odd, but
do you know anything about the other deaths? Why did you
call the people?"
        "I didn't. I don't even know any of the victims."
        "What about you, Graham?"
        He shook his head. "I was with Pen."
        Mulder paused, and pursed his lips. Scully
understood. It was kind of awkward questioning someone you'd
met as a friend before, and that you'd rather consider a
friend. "Are those VR goggles?" he asked, stepping over to
the master of all PCs.
        "Yeah, I go into VR sometimes," she said, shrugging.
Graham's blue eyes darted to Scully, who looked, and felt,
helpless. Mulder was bound to find out the truth if she
couldn't keep this facade up.
        Mulder bit his lip. "Have you ever taken anyone into
VR with you?" he asked. He knew Scully had to be going crazy
thinking he was remembering, but that wasn't what he was
doing. No, another thought had miraculously sprung.
        "Yeah, once," Penelope replied. "I met someone on
the Internet, she went by the name BlackCat. She wanted to
go into VR with me, so I hooked her up through a secondary
modem, and we went in."
        "Have you talked to her recently?"
        She shook her head. "No. It was only once, but it
was really cool," she said, relaxing a bit.
        "Can you take someone into VR now?" he questioned.
        Scully's stomach did a flip, and she held her
breath. She really didn't like the turn this interrogation
was taking. If Mulder found out...
        "Probably, but I don't like too, there's a lot of
complex things- phone connections, synchronized times, that
sort of thing. If you both don't connect at exactly the same
time, you can't get into VR," she said, glancing at Scully
every time Mulder looked away. He looked at the computer
screens, and spotted the switch next to the computer.
Penelope sunk into the gray executive chair. Graham stood
behind her, and put his hands on the back of it. Scully
stood just behind Mulder, her hand resting on the desk that
held the massive computer.
        "Is there anyway someone could get into VR without
your knowledge but using your system?"
        Penelope furrowed her brows a moment, and stared at
the computer. "Yeah, if they had the right equipment. If
everything was hooked up properly, they could do it."
        "Could they bring someone else in with them using
your equipment?"
        She paused a moment. "I suppose they could, but
they'd have to be using tertiary lines, and you'd need a
high grade computer- like a college computer that's hooked
up to all the terminals."
        "Could they have hacked into a computer like that,
and be using its power and equipment to hack into your
system?"
        "Oh, sure, but they'd have to be a real computer
wizard," she explained.
        He nodded. "Thanks. We'll be in touch."

        "Were you all right in there, Scully?" he asked on
the way back from Penelope's apartment.
        Scully held her breath a moment. No Academy Awards
this year, sweetie. She nodded. "Yeah, it was just- I'm
still kind of tired- jet lag," she explained vaguely.
        "Are you sure you're all right? You look kinda pale.
You sure they flushed all of the coelene out of your
system?"
        She nodded. "I'm fine." What could she do? How could
she get away from him? Certainly if she stayed and worked
with him on this case, he'd know something was wrong.
        But what about next week, when the case is over? Or
next month, next year... are you still going to be
pretending then? Scully didn't know how much longer she
could keep this up. Not with him always so close to her....
        "You sure?"
        "Yes, dammit, I'm fine!" she exploded. "Will you
stop asking?"
        Mulder looked at her a moment, and then stayed
silent, and concentrated on driving.
        Scully looked at her hands and felt immediately
guilty. She knew she couldn't keep doing this. She was
taking out the frustration of having to hide things on him,
and it wasn't right. He had only been asking. He had only
been caring about her as he always did. There was no excuse
for that kind of an outburst at him. He was concerned for
her, and she was scolding him for it. She should never have
done that. Mulder didn't deserve to get yelled at. He didn't
deserve to get lied to, either. It's necessary, she reminded
herself.
        Necessary for whom? Who knows that the both of you
wouldn't be better off with each other, working in different
departments? What if he had secretly always wanted a
relationship with her? Scully realized she was being
selfish. It was selfish not to talk to him, not to try and
work things out so they came to a firm standing. She
shouldn't be keeping this secret to herself.
        She looked over at him. Those soft hazel eyes needed
someone. He needed someone. She couldn't give up on him now,
as his friend or as a lover. To do so would be unforgivable.
        "Mulder, I'm sorry," she said softly. "I shouldn't
have snapped at you like that. It's just- I'm sorry," she
apologized. Scully reached a hand up, and put it on his arm.
        "I think someone's been tapping into Penelope's
computer and is using her equipment to bring other people
into SIVR. From what our friend told me, this SIVR can be
lethal. He says that several people have died trying to do
what Penelope can."
        Scully closed her eyes, and withdrew her hand, hurt.
He was putting the boundary between them again, and she knew
what that meant. Apology not accepted. How could she tell
him she was under all this stress because of him? Because of
the utter turmoil he made in her body when he touched her,
spoke to her. How could she tell him she loved him?
        She cleared her throat, willing herself not to burst
out then and there declaring how much she cared. "Um,
Penelope said she didn't even know what SIVR is," she said
pointedly.
        Mulder shook his head. "You gotta think like these
people, Scully. Someone told her we were coming, and told
her not to tell us about SIVR. She's working with new
technology, the kind of stuff governments try to keep under
wraps. Didn't you see all that equipment? And the switch was
right next to the computer- that's how she goes in, and
brings others in."
        "Mulder, what is SIVR? How do you know about it?"
she demanded.
        Mulder hated having to lie, because he'd been using
this conversation to his advantage. He'd planned to get her
deep into a conversation about SIVR, and then ask her how
she knew about it. A turn of the tables to get her to admit
she knew Penelope and Graham better than she'd let on and
that she'd been lying to him about where she was, what she
was doing while he was in the coma. "Our friend told me.
It's like Virtual Reality, but it's got a bigger effect on
people- emotional, physical. Penelope uses phone lines to
bring people in."
        "But how does this relate to the three deaths in
1978? Penelope wasn't even an adult then."
        "They said that SIVR can be fatalistic-"
        "Mulder, what are you talking about? They didn't
have virtual reality in 1978- they didn't even have home
computers," she burst out.
        "Listen to me Scully! Mr. X wasn't the only person I
talked to. I asked the guys from the Lone Gunman to do a
check on everything they could find about SIVR. It's been in
the making since computers first started. In 1978 they
reached a form of virtual reality, a lower version of what
SIVR is now. Penelope's father was a man named Joseph
Melicin- he was a computer scientist working at the
university where this lower form was discovered. The three
people who died all worked at the university in their spare
time. If SIVR can be fatalistic if used the wrong way, who's
to say this lower version wasn't.
        "What does it have to do with Penelope?"
        "Penelope is the only person who can go in on
purpose. It's got something to do with her father- no one
knows. There's a secret group, that's been working on this
for years."
        "So you think Penelope has been ordered by the
committee to kill these people using SIVR?"
        "No- I think someone else is using SIVR using a
tertiary phone line. One to hook into Penelope's system, one
to hook into the bigger computer that's allowing them to use
more than one line, and one to call the person they're
taking into SIVR."
        "But Mulder- you said Penelope is the only one who
can go into SIVR."
        "That's not entirely true. Your friend, Graham- he
went in once, and nothing happened to him."
        "How do you know that?"
        "I told you- Langy hacked into the records."
        "I still don't understand what SIVR is!"
        Mulder's anger burst in a tidal wave. "Dammit Scully
will you stop lying?" he roared. She paused, and looked at
him, wide-eyed. Her face went white as she looked at him. He
knew. He knew exactly what had happened when he had been in
the coma, he knew about SIVR, he knew about everything.
        "I- I'm not lying," she stammered.
        He jerked the car to a halt at a red light, and sent
Scully flying against the seatbelt. He turned to her, and
looked right in her eyes. Anger burned there, and his voice
was loud and dangerous. "You know damn well what SIVR is,
you know everything about it. You used it to save me- I
remember. You've been lying and covering your tracks, trying
to pretend that you know nothing about SIVR, or anything
else. You haven't talked to me about it- I want to know
why."
        She yelled, "Talked to you about what?"
        He closed his eyes, as if trying to control his
anger. A moment later, Scully felt her lips pressed against
his roughly. His mouth was hard and warm against hers, and
she reveled in the touch. His hands on either side of her
neck forced her face towards his, and he thrust his tongue
inside her mouth. Touching, tasting, feeling, exploring. She
felt the electricity crackle in his kiss, and she wanted him
more than anything in the world. He didn't give her a chance
to respond to it. He was too violent, too passionate in his
kisses. All she could do was savor the delicious caresses of
his tongue, and wish she could stay this way forever. He was
so forceful, pressing her ruthlessly towards him. A
pianist's hand slung through her hair, fondling the silky
soft red-gold hairs. Mulder's mind couldn't concentrate on
anything. He wanted her so much. He wanted to hear her call
his name in the throes of passion, he wanted her lips
kissing him back, he wanted soft sunny mornings, and lazy
late afternoons. Anything she could offer to him, anything
that would involve her he wanted. He wanted to give. He
would bare his soul to her if she asked, he would kill for
her. He would do anything for her. Anything. He didn't want
to keep secrets, or hide from her and his own true feelings.
He was sure of it now. She was the only one he wanted. He
felt so much for her he was sure he'd burst if he didn't
tell her soon. If he couldn't show her somehow. He felt star-
crossed with her, as if it had been written long ago that he
would feel this way, that he would find her in his life, and
that he would love her. He also felt responsibility. It was
more important that this could happen than their own wants
and feelings. Others depended on it. A soul other than his
own writhing in torment would also know peace.
        He broke apart from her, breathing heavily. His
forehead rested against hers, and he heard a beep from
behind him. He leaned away reluctantly, and started driving.
He panted, trying to control his own need. She stared at
him. "Mulder," was all she could mumble out. She was
shaking, trembling from the hunger she had felt on his lips
to the need consuming her entire body. She hadn't been able
to control it. What was she going to do now? Mulder pulled
over, and she realized suddenly they were at the hotel. She
got out, trying to keep her head high, and her pulse steady.
Mulder was in front of her before she reached the sidewalk.
        "Scully, I-" he paused. Not like that he couldn't.
"Dana," he said, softer now. Thunder rumbled overhead, and
she looked up, realizing how gray the sky was. A breeze
blew, strapping her hair back. A piece curled, and drifted
into her face. "We need to talk, Dana."
        She looked up at him. "Yes, yes we do."

        Mulder was seated on the bed, Indian-style. Scully
sat across from him, leaning her head against the backboard.
They were in her cream-colored motel room. It was raining
outside now, she could hear it hitting the windows opposite
the sliding glass doors that led out onto the balcony. She
didn't look at him, but at the ceiling. She could have sworn
she saw pictures in it. A face there, a pair of eyes...
        "Dana," he said softly. She brought her eyes to his
reluctantly. "Why didn't you tell me you'd gone into SIVR?"
        She closed her eyes and was silent a moment. "It's
dangerous for us to be involved. The Bureau doesn't like
inter-office relationships, you know that. But it's
especially dangerous for us because we always have to be
ready for anything, and you're the only person I can trust.
I never want to lose my trust in you, or my friendship with
you. I treasure that more than a romantic involvement," she
explained softly. It felt odd, and out of place to be
sitting here with Mulder, explaining how she felt,
explaining all her motives for not saying anything. "Who
told you I went in? Or did you remember it all by yourself?"
        He considered this for a moment. "Melissa told me.
Don't be upset, I knew something had changed- even I could
feel it. And I remembered some things."
        "Then you know how I feel. Why are we having this
conversation?" she defended herself. Talking like this with
him was making her uneasy.
        He leaned forward, and took one of her hands. "I
don't, though. I care about you, Dana. I want to try this,"
he pleaded.
        Scully looked into his eyes. They melted her soul,
and she realized how much she wanted to fall into strong
arms, and never let go. "I want to, also. But- it would be
such a mistake. There's consequences. What if Skinner finds
out? He'll snap me outta there so fast it'll make your head
spin. I'll be reassigned, and they'll send someone else to
evaluate your work. He might even transfer me..." she
sighed. "Please, you have to understand. I want this, but
it's just- it could ruin a lot of things if it doesn't work
out."
        He closed his eyes a moment, and felt as if a
thousand doors were slamming shut on him. Any idea he had
ever had about her was insane. "I care about you, Dana. I'd
say that if we're out to break a rule, we broke all of them
a long time ago. I just wish..." he stopped. He wanted her
to break the rule. How could he express himself? How could
he tell her that nothing mattered to him now except being
with her? That he would have given up the truth for her?
That he already had?
        "I'll do whatever you ask me. If you want me to stop
this, I'll do it. I'd do anything for you," he professed.
        She held her breath as he stood.
        "I'm going to see if I can find out where those
secondary and tertiary lines came from- we'll find out
whoever's responsible when we find those," he said. Sticking
the barrier in there was like sticking a knife in his gut.
        When he left, Scully sank down on the bed. She
drifted into sleep.
        A dream was the only place she could be with him.

        (OOC:When I Dream About You- Stevie B. is playing in
the background BIC:)
        Mulder felt frustration, anger, and pain. Most of
all pain. He would have given anything to love her. To show
her everything he felt...
        He sighed. Dwelling over it was not going to help.
He was in love with her. He knew it the second he'd opened
his eyes, and glimpsed upon her face. Seen her as Dana
Scully, not his sister. A woman. Or maybe he'd known it
before. Maybe he'd felt it, deep in his soul, and he had
just realized it. He didn't want to be in love with her. God
knew it could only complicate his life, and make everything
harder, twisting the knife of pain a little deeper in his
stomach. But he was, no matter how much he tried to deny it.
He wouldn't hate it so much if she wanted to return
everything he felt, if she could, if they could...
        He got that feeling again. The feeling that he was
following a pattern, that what was happening between them
was fated, destined to happen, no matter how much they
resisted. He only wished he could know the outcome. But he
didn't.
        And Mulder could only prepare for the worst.

        Havannah crossed her legs and sat in the car.
Michael in the driver's seat smiled. "This is kinda exciting-
our first real job," he said warmly.
        Havannah snapped her gum. "We wouldn't be sitting
here if Dr. Stevens had let us take care of them instead of
Jacinta and Theo. Both of them were probably jerking off
instead of doing what they were supposed to," she said
haughtily. Michael stared out the window. He didn't really
know what to say to Havannah when she got like that. He was
excited. He finally had a chance to test his powers, to see
if all this training had come in useful. He was hungry for
the thrill of chasing down a victim. Of course, that
wouldn't happen here. No, he was supposed to keep Mulder-
whoever that was, busy, while Jacinta rid the world of his
partner, Scully. Michael wondered whether he should go in
cat form or himself. Michael was tall, with sandy-brown hair
and green eyes. His mother had been part Eskimo, the result
being a darker, yellowish shade to his skin, stretched over
wide features. He'd gotten a look from the picture of this
Mulder guy- he didn't look half-bad. Michael secretly
wondered if Mulder preferred men over women. If that was the
case, this might be a better evening than he'd first
thought. Michael sighed, and checked his watch. They weren't
supposed to move until seven. His watch read 6:45. The sun
was heading for the Western horizon quickly, but it didn't
matter- dark purple clouds obscured any sign of a sunset you
could imagine. He looked over at Havannah. In his earlier
days, before he'd discovered his own preference, he might
have considered her pretty. Straw-colored blond hair hung
down to her shoulders. She had a small frame, a large bust
accented by the tight black outfit she wore, so she would be
able to disappear unnoticeably into the shadows, should need
be. Her eyes were honey-colored, and they mystified him
sometimes. Michael was also dressed in black, so he, too,
would be able to disappear into the shadows. Michael checked
his watch again, and rolled down the back windows. He pulled
the key out of the ignition, and put it in his mouth under
his tongue. He glanced at Havannah, and they got out of the
car.

        Scully awoke red-eyed listening to someone knock on
her door. It was late, she realized, and wondered how she
could have been out so long. She had been napping for
several hours, unusual for her. She stood, and went to the
door. It wouldn't be Mulder- he would use the door
connecting their rooms. She moved wearily to the door, and
opened it, blinking hard. A woman with short blond hair
stared back at her.
        "Yes?"
        "Ms. Scully?"
        "Yes," Scully said, suspicious now.
        The woman smiled courteously. "Can I come in?"
        Scully considered it a moment. The woman didn't look
armed. She was dressed in black, from the tips of her black
shoes to her black gloves. "Why?"
        "I have information that would be useful for finding
the person who tried to kill your partner," she said in an
even voice. Scully blinked and let the woman slip past her.
She walked straight to the back of the room, opening the
sliding glass doors, and looking around. "Come out here,
please," she said in a dark voice.
        Havannah was ecstatic when Scully followed her out
onto the balcony. This was going to be easier than she
thought. A simple push- the woman was red-eyed, as if she
had been crying, it could be written off as a clean suicide,
foul play the last thing from the minds of any , he had to
save her, he had to help...
        The cat yowled in his ear, and scratched him under
the chin. Mulder banged his head again, and exploded into
Scully's room. He burst onto the balcony watching a black
tail disappear down the balcony. He heard Scully's scream,
long and loud, and dove out into the air after her without
hesitation. He was floating for a moment. For one moment, he
was suspended in air, floating high above everything, a
clear view of the purple and gray clouds above him through
the plate glass roof of the hotel. And then he began to
fall. Down, down, down. The air rushing around him, breezing
through his hair, as he fell. He looked down, and he saw
Scully not more than five feet below him. Scully...
        If had to die, it might as well be with her, with
the person he loved, no matter how much he didn't want to.
The cat had left his head, and Mulder closed his eyes, and
heard a splash. A moment later, he heard another splash, and
a yowl of pain between human and animal. Then, his own, as
his body was immersed into the water. He surged upwards in
the deep end of the pool, the chlorine stinging his eyes.
Scully, where was she? He looked around, and saw her trying
to swim towards the ladder. She was bleeding. He came to her
immediately, his clothes weighing him down. It didn't
matter. He yanked her out, and she pointed towards the open
door that led outside. "It's there- Mulder where?" she
coughed and spit up water.
        "Jesus, Scully, you're bleeding- we've got to get
you to a hospital-"
        She shook her head. "I can take care of the wounds.
They're not that bad, just- just get me to my hotel room,"
she begged. She didn't want to go into another hospital. No
more hospital rooms where she was forced to lie in bed like
a helpless baby, unable to do anything to defend herself.
        Mulder stood, and looked around. It was miraculous
no one had stopped them. In fact, it didn't look as if there
was anyone around at all. He helped her to her feet, and
when it became clear she couldn't walk, he swept her into
his arms gracefully, holding her close to him. She shivered
in her wet clothes, and felt a tear roll softly down her
face amidst the beads of water from the pool.

        Havannah limped outside the door, trying to get to
the car as fast as she could until Michael came up having
changed into a bigger, faster animal and grabbed her by the
scruff of her neck. He bounded towards the car, and leapt
through the small opening, dropping the other animal neatly
in the back seat. He jumped into the front seat, switched
back to his human form carefully, and pulled the key out of
his mouth. He jammed it into the ignition, and started
driving. Havannah switched back to human form, holding her
leg out. "Ah!" she moaned. "Dammit! I need to go to a
hospital. I think I broke my leg-"
        "Just hold on, we'll be at the Project in fifteen
minutes. They'll ask questions at the hospital," Michael
explained.
        Havannah grit her teeth, and let out a long, loud
slew of cusses. When she was finished, she stared angrily at
him. "You were supposed to keep Mulder away- he comes
bursting in there, startles me-"
        "I couldn't help it. I tried, but- I just couldn't
hurt such a face-"
        Havannah snorted. "Dammit, you're too nice, Michael.
They ought to supply girlfriends, boyfriends, whatever
friends in these projects, make sure we all don't go insane
from sex deprivation like you did."
        Michael's eyes narrowed. "I told you, I couldn't
help it. I jumped for him, he cracked me against the wall- I
think I have back damage!" he cried defensively. Michael did
not want to be pulled from the Project, no matter how bad
the conditions of it were. Michael always felt he had to
prove himself. A lot of people, once they discovered he was
of a different caliber than the rest had underrated his
abilities, and Michael had had an especially difficult time
being in the military. Secrets for most of his years, until
recently had kept him very protective of himself, and the
way he was. Michael didn't want to change, for anyone. And
in Project Mammalia they had made him prove himself. To
admit defeat because of a personal weakness would be a leap
backwards in his career.
        "Yeah," Havannah said, sarcasm plain in her voice.
"I'll bet." She stared at her long leg, bent now at an
awkward angle. She had aimed for the pool, but her decision
was quick and inaccurate. She had ended up landing almost on
the metal ladder. Her leg screamed bloody murder, and all
she could do was wait. Dr. Stevens wouldn't be pleased. They
were supposed to kill Scully, but Havannah had seen her
getting out of the pool when they'd made their escape.
Luckily, Mulder hadn't come after them. Cats may be quick,
but this guy was in shape- he probably could have caught up
with them. Havannah looked outside at the sunset. Wind from
the open window ruffled her hair, and she tried to distance
herself from the situation, as she'd been taught to do. Now
was a good time to see just how many of her animal instincts
she had.
        If she could concentrate enough, maybe she could
heal herself as she'd seen animals do. They knew from
instincts what to do for wounds...
        She concentrated, sweat beads forming on her brow.
Go inside yourself. You are a part of the animal. Go back
down the bloodlines, to your animal attachments. Use their
power. Go to yourself. Deep in your mind, in the part of you
that science has no reign over. The part that science  says
exists but should not. There is the power. Let it go to your
nerves. Rushing throughout your body. There, to the place of
pain. Heal within yourself. Nature heals itself. Nature can
heal you. Set the bone back, easy, easy. Solder it to the
other piece with your mind. It's connecting itself back to
the other piece. The marrow is healing. Feel it connecting,
rejuvenating. Your leg is powerful, you are powerful. You
can overcome this weakness. Overcome it. You are battling
the forces holding you back. You are breaking through them.
Overcome your weakness. Now! You are powerful. You can
overcome your weaknesses. You can bounce back from anything.
You are powerful. There is no one that can harm you.
        No one...

        Mulder opened Scully's door with one hand, hauling
her in, in his arms. "M- Mulder," she stuttered. "I was in
here- this woman came, Mulder she turned into a cat- I
swear, I saw it-"
        "Don't talk now," he hushed her, carrying her to the
bed. He laid her down on it, and glanced at her arm. A
moment later her returned with three wet towels from the
bathroom. He set them on the bed, and sat next to her. He
took one, and gently cleaned the blood off of her arm.
        "There's a first aid kit in my bag-" she started. He
pressed the towel against her arm, and then went to her
suitcase. After a few minutes of rummaging, he found the
kit, and set it on the bed next to her.
        "Just tell me what to do," he said, his voice barely
audible.
        She nodded. "Help me get my skirt off," she said
softly, trying to pull it off with one hand. A few minutes
later Scully's mind was on pleasure more than pain, as he
unzipped the back of her skirt, and gently brought it down
her legs. Mulder removed her shoes, setting them next to her
blood-stained skirt. He took a washcloth, and wiped the
blood from around the cuts on her thigh. His hands were
gentle, and warm against her cold skin. "Put this on," she
managed, pointing to a brown bottle of rubbing alcohol. It
was so hard to concentrate on what to do. His hands on her
body filled her mind with thoughts she knew she shouldn't be
thinking. He pulled the cap off the bottle of liquid, and
poured it over the slashes on her forearm and thigh. It
sizzled slightly, mixing with the chlorine, and she grit her
teeth, grabbing onto his shoulder. Her nails bit into him,
but his face remained emotionless. The cuts weren't too
deep, they certainly wouldn't need stitches, but they might
need a few days to heal. He took gauze, and wrapped it
around her forearm gently. He pulled her shirt up, exposing
her underwear, but his eyes concentrated only on the cut.
She respected him for that as much as she hated him for it.
He wouldn't dare try to take advantage of her, and she
respected him for that, but at the same time the thought
that he wasn't looking, that he was pretending again made
her hate him. He fixed her bandages emotionlessly, and put
the first aid kit away. He set her up on the bed, and then
lay beside her, looking at her.
        "I want you to go back to Washington," he said
gently. "I don't want you out here risking your life for
this. Someone doesn't want us snooping around, and I'm not
willing to put your life in danger."
        Scully became angry. "You just want to put your own
in danger. You're out to get yourself killed, and you're
going to try and send me back, well I'll tell you it's not
going to work. I'm not going back, not unless you come back
with me."
        Mulder blinked, and dropped his head against the
headboard, looking down at her. "Scully, I don't want you to
put yourself in any danger for me. It's not worth it."
        "What isn't? The truth or your life?"
        "You're worth more than both," he whispered.
        She looked up at him suddenly. "Mulder, this is my
job, you have to let me take the risks," she explained
logically. He glanced down at her softly.
        "Not unnecessarily. You don't have to be out here,
Scully. You're putting yourself in danger for no reason.
Someone doesn't want us investigating these murders, and I'm
not going to let you follow me to death," he said
dispassionately.
        Her expression softened. "I'm staying."
        Mulder knew there was no arguing with her. She was
stubborn and would do as she pleased no matter what he said.
He put an arm around her shoulders. "All right, Scully," he
gave in. He put his other arm around her a moment later, and
held her close to him. It felt so right to hold her. To keep
her pressed against him tightly. He wanted to do so much
more. He loved her so much, if only she felt the same way
back, if only they could feel this way...
        Mulder let go. If he kept holding on to her he would
go mad. She was so beautiful, so tempting. He realized they
were still wet, and brought out two more towels. He began
drying her hair softly, wiping the water from her. She
didn't bother to stop him. She was too tired to do it
anyways.
        "What were you talking about before, about a woman?"
he asked, trying to get his thoughts away from what he
wanted most. Her.
        Scully explained about the woman, how she had turned
into a cat, and then looked at Mulder. "It's true, I know it
sounds crazy, but it's true!"
        "I don't doubt that, Scully. I think that might have
been the same kind of thing that attacked me in my
apartment. There was a cat in my room at the same time that
woman came," he said softly.
        "You know, that might be what those marks were,"
Scully said, getting excited. She jumped up from the bed,
filled with a new energy from within.
        "What marks?"
        She picked up the file she had brought along. She
took out the picture of the smashed interior of his car.
"See? Right there, there's five little pinpoint holes," she
said, putting her finger underneath the holes. Mulder pushed
her hand away, and held the picture up to his face, studying
it by the dim light. She reached over and snapped on the
lamp beside the bed. "And the scratch on your forehead- it's
too small to have come from the glass- the broken shards
were too big to have made those cuts. See how it looks like
something attacked you- a cat."
        "Like the cat that was in my room. There's been
stories of people who've been able to train animals to do
things, like pick people's pockets."
        "Bet you can't say that three times fast," Scully
muttered. "Mulder, what if the person is a cat? That woman-
I saw her, I know it's unbelievable, but I did. Do you
believe me?"
        "I believe that you saw something, Scully. I don't
think a human can turn into an animal, but I think you might
have seen something."
        "Might?" she asked, angry. "Mulder, I saw it! I'd
expect you of all people to at least believe me!"
        Mulder drew himself up. "Scully people, don't turn
into cats- it's impossible."
        "What?" she asked, her voice gaining rage and
volume.
        She stood, squaring her shoulders like she was
preparing for a fight. "You're the one who's always telling
me about these myths and legends, and all these other
unbelievable tales- why won't you believe me?" she yelled.
        He looked slightly confused, as if he didn't know
where he was, or why he was here. "Scully, I'd think you'd
look for a logical explanation."
        "I am! But I need you to believe me. I didn't just
let a panther into my hotel room!" she said hotly.
        "All right! All right!" he shouted. "Calm down, sit
down- your wounds will start opening up," he said, a little
bit softer.
        She sighed, and obeyed. He perched next to her on
the bed. "It's safe to assume that the person, or people who
tried to kill you in Washington have followed us. That might
also be the person who tried to poison me-" Scully stopped.
        Hadn't she seen a cat that night in the hospital,
after Jennifer-
        Jennifer.
        "How do you like your coffee?"
        "Two cream, two sugar."
        Jennifer could have slipped the mentholydis into
Scully's coffee. And then there were no doors. Only the open
window, and that black cat...
        But the woman who had attacked her before had blond
hair, and honey-colored eyes, and Jennifer had long black
hair and green eyes. "Mulder, was the cat that attacked you
a female?"
        Mulder gave her a look that said, "Are you nuts?".
        "I don't know," he said, shrugging.
        "Is there anyway it might have been female?" Scully
asked again, her voice more urgent.
        He shrugged again. "I think it was male. It attached
itself to my head, and a woman pretty much knows where to go
to get a guy to stop."
        Scully smiled softly. She appreciated his humor
however inappropriate it was.
        "Why?" he asked, leaning against the headboard.
        She explained about her meeting with Jennifer.
        "So if the cat that attacked you was male, that
probably means that there's more than just two of these
people."
        He grinned. "So we're looking for three people- one
male, two female, who may be posing as cats. I'll call John
Walsh." He winked at her. "Okay, seriously, was she wearing
gloves? Did she touch anything we can get a print off of?"
he asked.
        Scully looked toward the sliding glass door. "Yes,
she didn't-" she paused, and then stood. Lying by the
railing was a black glove.

        Mulder stood behind Agent Danahes. She was a tall
blond woman with a medium frame, green eyes, and just a
little too much makeup. Her features were dull and rounded,
and she had a Southeast accent. Now she had a cigarette
clamped between her lips, typing madly to enter the
fingerprints into the system. A beeping sound came up, and
she reached up and shut the fire alarm off with a flick of
her hand. The office was small and cramped, and smelt like
smoke. The fire alarm was to the right of a small nook that
served as the computer area for her. She dipped the ashes
into crystal cut whiskey glass that served as an ash tray,
and waited. Mulder had left Scully at her hotel room, and
told her to be ready to call Frohike at the Lone Gunman. She
had not found that funny, but knew the short older man and
his buddies could find out who this person was a lot faster
than she could. Once they got the information, it was going
to be modemed into her computer. Mulder checked his watch,
and sighed. It was close to ten, and still no match yet.
        He was about to tell Danahes to call him at his
hotel room when she found a match when another beep came
from the computer, and Danahes smiled to herself, taking a
long drag off of her cigarette. Mulder resisted the urge to
break out into a fit of exaggerated coughing when the smoke
drifted into his face. He knelt by her.
        "There's your match, Mulder. These prints belong to
Havannah Styarski. No criminal record- she was in the Navy.
If you want, I can pull up her file for you," she bragged.
        "No thanks, I can get the information myself," he
said softly. He wanted out of this place as fast as he
could. Danahes put on a fake pout, and batted her eyelashes
at him.
        If the air didn't kill him, her come-ons would.
"Thank you again, Agent Danahes," he said curtly, and left.
He took several breaths of reasonably clean air before
calling Scully.
        Scully wrote down the name, and called Frohike.
        "Hello, Dana," he said, before she said a word.
        "You ready with the computer?" she asked, getting
excited. They were closing in.
        "All right, what's the name?"
        "Havannah Styarski," she said softly. "Okay?" She
heard the side door open, and Mulder came in, and sat down
on the bed next to her.
        Frohike could sense the conversation about to close,
although he'd much rather listen to her voice. It did
strange things to him. "Dana, listen, can you say one thing
before I get the info modemed out to you, and I won't hear
from you again for a while?"
        "What?" she asked, unnerved slightly. She glanced at
Mulder, and he pulled the phone from her ear.
        "Say my name in a sexy voice, and I'll do whatever
you want me to," he begged.
        Mulder laughed. "In your dreams, Frohike. Modem us
the info." He hung up the phone and smiled at Scully.
        "I'm not going to ask what he wanted me to say," she
said wisely. She hooked up her computer and waited. Ten
minutes later, she found the file in her E-mail.
        She read aloud to Mulder. "Havannah Styarski, Naval
Lieutenant Commander. Born December 23, 1962, in Richmond,
Virginia. Hair: Blond, Eyes:Blue. Five foot four, 129
pounds, yadda, yadda, yadda... ah! She moved to a California
Naval base in the spring of ninety-two. Last year, she moved
to a top secret project- Project Mammalia. It's a project to-
change people from people to animals using their own
concentration and subconscious power. Is he making this up,
Mulder? I'd think the government would have better things to
do that try to make people turn into animals."
        "What about SIVR? And wouldn't it explain that woman
turning into a panther?"
        She looked down. "I've been starting to think I
might be going crazy thinking like this. SIVR is a project
controlled by the committee- it's probably a group of
private citizens."
        Mulder looked away. "I doubt it. Penelope doesn't
even know anything about the committee. It isn't crazy,
Scully, it's real. And wouldn't it explain that woman
changing into a panther?"
        "I'll believe it when I see it with my own eyes- and
I have someone else as a witness. Oh, Mulder, Frohike left
you a little message," she said, grinning, and pointing to a
PS at the bottom of the screen.
        He smiled. "Well at least he didn't take it
personally." Mulder pulled the keyboard aside, and two-
finger typed a message back:
        I need some identification numbers to get into the
project- can you handle it?
                Mulder
        A few minutes later a reply came back:
        Yeah, I'll have them for you by tomorrow afternoon.
That still wasn't nice, Mulder.
                Frohike
        "Well, there's nothing we can do until tomorrow
afternoon," Scully sighed. She stood, and Mulder followed.
He didn't want to leave. What he wanted to do was clear away
the laptop, shut off the light, and stay with her, instead
of going back to his own room, his own lonely bed.
        He almost asked if she wanted him to stay, and then
turned and walked through the door connecting their rooms.
He knew he wasn't going to survive this until whatever it
was between Scully and him was fixed. There had been an
interval of maybe an hour when he hadn't been thinking of
her. Of loving her, being with her. And then all he had been
concentrating on was work.
        An idea entered Mulder's head. He dismissed it at
first, but when he was lying down, trying to sleep, it came
to him again. But an excuse, he needed an excuse... it came
to him, and he smiled before falling asleep.
        The only problem was how to tell Scully.

        Mulder knocked on Scully's door at nine. She opened
it, dressed in jeans and a white blouse. "Hi, I'm just
trying to get the info on the other four members of Project
Mammalia. Byers is going to E-Mail it to me with the
identification numbers," she said, plugging in her modem.
        "Listen, Scully, I've got an idea. I want you to
take me into SIVR," he explained.
        She looked up at him stiffly. "Why?"
        "Things from your subconscious are supposed to come
out in SIVR, maybe I can remember what happened the night of
the accident," he said.
        "Well, can't you have Penelope take you in?" she
asked. She didn't want to go into SIVR with him. Anything
could happen in SIVR, and things came out there.
        He shook his head. "I don't know what's in
Penelope's mind, things from her subconscious might pop up
instead of my stuff. At least with you, I know what's from
my subconscious, and what's from yours," he explained. He
hoped to God his reason sounded logical enough. If he could
get her in there, he was sure everything would be all
right...
        She sighed. If she said know, he'd want to know why,
and she didn't want to explain. "Okay, Mulder. I'll go to
Penelope's. Be waiting by the phone."

        Penelope was surprised at Scully's request to use
SIVR, and checked around before letting her in.
        "What's the matter, Penelope?" Scully asked, draping
her topcoat over the back of the gray executive chair. "You
look nervous."
        "They don't want you to go in, Scully. My boss,
Russell Sandar, told me not even to talk to you and Mulder,"
she mouthed.
        "I need to take him in," Scully mouthed back.
Penelope nodded, and set it up. Scully typed in Mulder's
Apt. for scenery, and then dialed Mulder.
        He picked it up with a "Ready." She flicked the
switch, and waited. The twisting and turning stopped
abruptly, and Scully exploded into the world around her. She
was laying on Mulder's leather couch, dressed in a red
kimono with a black spandex bikini. He opened the door, and
entered. It was dark in the apartment, the only light coming
from the high window that let in fluorescent hall lighting.
He shut the door behind him, and looked at her. Her hair was
an electric orange color, and her eyes bluer than the bluest
sky.
        She looked up at him, pursing her lips. "I trust
this was from your filthy mind," she said, glancing down to
the way she was dressed.
        He blinked, hung his coat on the rack blindly, and
sat next to her. "I'll admit to it. But it's not a filthy
idea. I like picturing you as a seductress," he said. His
voice was low and deep, and it seeped into her ears like an
infectious disease, spreading inside her. So low, so
incredibly intimate...
        She reached over, and put her arms around his neck,
forcing him down on the couch. She sat on him, and slowly
began to remove his tie. His hands busied themselves with
the tie of the silk robe. It fell off of her with a soft
whimsical brush, and he could touch other places on her
body. Softer, more intrinsic places he would love to touch
with his mouth. He leaned up and attacked her mouth with a
forceful, pressing kiss that let her taste the esurience he
had been holding back for days, and was trying to hold back
now. To take it slow.
        She leaned up, her forehead cradled against his, her
cheek pressed against his. She could hear his soft pants in
her ear, as he attached his mouth to the side of her face.
She leaned back, smiling inveiglingly. His hands rested at
her hips, running his thumb over the waistline of her bikini
bottom. She set the tie neatly aside, and yanked his shirt
up, out of his pants. She unbuttoned it with her teeth, and
one of his hands careened down her back, fiddling with the
clasp of her bikini.
        A low growl caught their attention, and from nowhere
a dark black panther sprung. It landed first on Scully,
pinning her against the leather. Mulder slid out from
underneath, and hauled the panther away. The animal landed
on its back, turned, and sprung on him. Mulder landed on the
glass coffee table, and it broke to pieces under him. Scully
leaned against the wall, staring at the scene. Hair fell in
her face, and she gasped as the panther shifted into human
form. Mulder was on his feet in an instant, though, fighting
with the man. The guy was a big, much bigger than Mulder's
medium frame, and he towered over him. Scully watched in
horror as Mulder pulled out his gun, and took aim at the
man. He ducked, as the bullet hit the side of the wall. The
man shifted into cat form, and bolted out the window. Mulder
stood there, oblivious to the woman on his couch, and looked
down at his feet. The torn pieces of his paper lay at his
feet, amidst a yellow post-it note. He got down on his
knees, and began piecing the note together. Scully couldn't
see what it said, but a moment later he bolted out the
apartment door. She came off of her perch on the couch, her
feet crunching on broken glass. She stared at the yellow
paper lazily pasted together.
        They're after her.
        She leaned down to touch the note, and the
electricity crackled. Scully bolted out at everything,
upsetting the mouse, phone, and sending the monitor twisting
the wrong way. She made a sound of surprise and terror, and
pulled the black glasses off. She looked around, and took
several deep breaths. Calm, cool. It's over. Penelope put a
hand on Scully's shoulder, and she jumped, startled, and
took more deep breaths.
        "What happened?" Penelope asked softly.
        Scully shook her head. "He was on his way to meet
me. He knew they were going to poison me. That's why he made
my stomach gray in VR, that's why he told me I should see a
doctor so I could get better. He knew they had done
something to me." Scully smiled, pleased with her
revelation. "I have to go- I have to tell Mulder," she said,
excitedly. The pieces of the puzzle were falling into place,
everything was starting to connect...
        She bolted out the door before Penelope could say
another word.

        Scully burst into Mulder's hotel room without
notice. He was just pulling off his shirt as she entered.
Scully felt an immediate, almost animalistic, urge of lust
spring within her, as she stared at him. She looked away
softly, embarrassed at having barged in on him. Mulder
showed no sign he saw her look away, and reached for his
dress shirt casually. "Hey, Scully," he said softly. "What
did you find out through VR?"
        She looked up at him, as he draped the shirt over
his shoulders, letting it hang open, and buttoning it from
bottom to top. He tucked it in his gray pants, oblivious to
her eyes studying his every move with a hunger. "Uh, well,
you were on your way to my house. And a panther attacked
you. It was a guy- I've never seen him before. Someone left
you a note- Mulder you knew they were going to poison me,
well, you didn't know, but you knew they were going to try
and hurt me somehow. That's where you were when you got into
the accident. That's probably why you knew in VR that I was
sick- the reason for my stomach. Your subconscious knew they
had done something to me, and my subconscious knew that
there was something funny going on with my stomach. They
must have merged somehow, and the result was what happened
in SIVR," she explained softly, perching on the edge of his
bed.
        He nodded, and pointed to her laptop sitting on his
bed. "Frohike sent us the identification numbers to get
clearance to the project. It should enable us to get into
the project, see a demonstration, and we might have access
to the personal quarters to talk with the inhabitants. I got
a trace on the secondary line used. It came from the main
computer at Project Mammalia- a fully maxed supercomputer. I
want to leave immediately," he said, getting his suit
jacket.
        Scully paused. Should she tell him what happened
before, how she had been in his arms on his couch, ready to
do anything he might have asked her to if it would mean she
could stay there, in his arms? She looked away. No more
secrets. She had told him there would be no more secrets,
she would tell him everything. But he would want to know why
she hadn't protested, if he didn't already know what had
happened. But there had to be total honesty, even between
friends or their trust would be shattered, and he was the
only person she could trust. "Mulder," she started.
"Something else happened in VR," she began. She closed her
eyes a moment, gathering herself and explained relentlessly.
She averted her eyes from him the entire time, until she was
finished. He knelt in front of her, and took both of her
hands in his own. He looked up into her face, and Scully
thought she would faint. There was such love in his eyes,
such pain...
        She swallowed deeply, and was lost in his eyes. She
waited for him to say something, anything. Why didn't you
pull away? What do you think that means? But he didn't. He
simply held her hands and stared up at her. She closed them,
and tried to hold back tears. He came up on the bed in an
instant, and put his arms around her. She leaned against him
without any hesitation. Her head rested on his chest, and
she sighed. A single tear drifted down her cheek. "Tell me,"
he whispered. "Tell me everything."
        She looked up at him, and another tear fell. His
mouth swooped down, and kissed it away gently. "Tell me," he
urged her again.
        She let the tears fall. She could tell him anything
here. Safe in the zareba of his arms, she was sheltered from
the outside world, from anything that could harm her. He
would keep the demons, the fears away for her. For this
time, she had someone else to protect her from herself. It
encouraged a tremendous relief and relaxation in her. One
she wanted to accept willingly. Scully leaned against him,
content in his arms and began to talk. "I was so scared when
you were in the accident. At first they wouldn't let me see
you- I burst right in. And you were in the coma, and they
said you might not ever come out of it. It felt like a part
of me was missing. Like those people who say they can still
feel their arm, or their leg after it's been amputated. I
didn't even want to think about what I would do if you were
dead. I was reminiscing with Jennifer, and I remembered when
I'd first met you," she said. Her voice choked slightly, and
he rocked her slightly.
        "It's all right. Go on."
        "I wanted to tell you so many things. I'd never told
you how good a friend you were, how much I cared about you.
I never- I had never kissed you," she mumbled into his
shoulder. He pulled her away softly. She stared up into his
eyes, and wanted to cry again. They shone with love that
came from within. A pure, deep, sheltering love. She wanted
to accept that love, and all the consequences, and
complications that went with it. It would be all worth it in
the end, if she could keep these strong arms around her
forever. She would pay anything to stay like this always. To
never leave the safe and security he brought to her, but
rather to embrace it, willingly give in to her emotions.
Give in to everything that had been tumbling around inside
her the past days. The love, the desire. He held her for a
few more minutes, and she inhaled the scent of him, pressing
her face to his chest.
        His chin rested on her head, and he rocked her back
and forth. "Shh," he whispered. He pulled her back a moment,
and then leaned down. His mouth on her own was warm, and
soft and gentle. His tongue touched hers almost tentatively.
She was almost pliable in his arms. He could have moved her
any way he pleased, and she would have followed. He drew
back from the immaculate brush. "You'd better get ready. The
Project shuts down to visitors at six," he said. Anything to
stop the hammering in his mind, and the pounding in his
heart while she was next to him. He didn't want to put the
barrier between them, as thick and cold as a brick wall, but
it had to be done. It had to be, if he was ever to survive.
He would have twisted her body over, and taken her then and
there if he didn't. He had to maintain some sanity, some
order of reason.
        She moved away, and left his arms. When she shut the
door, he flopped back on the bed. "I love you," he mumbled
to the thin air. "Why can't you see that?"

        Scully was silent on the way to the Project. It was
not more than twenty minutes from L.A., up in the hills.
They pulled up to a gate. Its black wrought iron bars stood
firm in front of them. A six foot high, three foot thick
white quartz wall. Out of the guard house, two men dressed
in army fatigues with guns slung over their backs approached
the car.
        One stopped in front of the car, the other came to
Mulder's side. "Name," he demanded emotionlessly.
        "Robert Grant," Mulder said just as coolly. "I.D.
number one five six, dash, two nine, dash, four three two."
        "And you, Miss?" the man asked Scully.
        She paused a moment. "Sylvia Marlthrope," she said,
recalling the slip she had studied on the way here, now
tucked away safely in her purse.
        "Identification number," the guard prompted.
        "Four seven oh, dash, three seven, dash, two one
six," she replied softly.
        The man nodded, and hailed to the other man in front
of their car. He nodded in response, and pushed a button on
the side of the guard house. The gates opened inwardly, and
Mulder pulled the car forward. Scully breathed a sigh of
relief once they were inside. He parked the car, and they
went inside. The late afternoon sun hit Scully's hair,
making it look like it was on fire. Overhead, dark purple
clouds, thick with rain rumbled softly. It hadn't rained
last night, and the pending storm was about to make up for
it. They were ushered inside, given small clip-badges, and
led to a long room by a tall woman with round thick glasses.
The woman, whose name tag read Myra Young, reminded Scully
of a duck, the way her glass sat on a squat nose, and her
tan complexion to go with it. A panel of thick double-paned
glass separated them from a white room. A cluster of gray
folding chairs were set up in the middle of a their side of
the room. Mulder and Scully took a seat in the first two,
and waited. A moment later, a tall man with sandy brown hair
and deep green eyes walked in, dressed in orange from head
to toe. "I've seen him before," Mulder whispered. "I don't
know where, but- I could swear I know him from somewhere."
        Scully nodded. "Maybe a past life, Mulder," she
teased, smiling up at him.
        He raised both eyebrows, and watched. Myra picked up
a microphone. "Hello, Michael. Cat form," she instructed.
        Michael nodded. "Hello, Dr. Young." He got down on
all fours, and Mulder watched. Within moments, the young man
was completely transformed. A small yellowish-orange cat sat
before them, staring with intelligent green eyes back at
them.
        "Good, Michael. You may change back now," Myra said
softly. She turned to Mulder and Scully, "Do you want
another demonstration?"
        "Uh, no," Mulder muttered.
        Myra nodded, and picked up the microphone again.
"You may leave, Michael."
        Michael smiled, and then looked at Mulder. He drew
in a deep breath, and Scully could swear he had batted his
eyelashes at her partner before he sauntered out the door,
looking like a tall moving pumpkin.
        Myra turned back to them. "If there's nothing else,
I'll let you be free to roam the project if you wish," she
said, departing.
        Scully smiled at her partner. "He was flirting with
you," she said, slightly astonished.
        "Who?" he asked, confused.
        "Michael- he was flirting with you," she said,
grinning now.
        Mulder stood. "You're probably right about that past
lives thing. We were probably lovers, and you were the
jealous wife who found out and shot us," he said, pursing
his lips.
        He moved towards the door, and Scully followed. Once
they were outside the small room, he searched around, and
then leaned down and whispered to her. "Scully, when he
shifted, he looked exactly like the cat that was in my room
last night."
        "Yeah, but Mulder, why would our "friend" point us
here? There must be a reason why someone they just suddenly
want to rid themselves of us," she said, keeping her voice
low. She glanced down the hall, feeling slightly paranoid.
        He looked at the ground. "I think it might have
something to do with SIVR. Scully, I was following this case
for a while. Both SIVR and Project Mammalia are top secret
projects- these deaths are related to both- someone used
Penelope's computer to kill those people- someone from this
Project. The secondary line came from here- the question is
who used the tertiary line to connect to the main computer
here."
        "It could have been anyone, Mulder.  It could have
been one of the guards, it could have been Dr. Young-"
        "You're right. But the deaths have been happening in
almost a sequence. In the beginning it was usually once or
twice a week, then it was once a week. The last death
happened five days ago, and just two days ago, someone used
the computer to call Penelope's house, and then back to the
project- the calls have been getting closer together as it
goes along," he explained.
        "I'm not sure I follow," she said, walking down
hall. Mulder caught up and walked alongside, bending his
head so his conversation was directed only to her.
        "SIVR is a fantasy world, Scully. Anything you want
to happen in it can happen, and it's totally real. Every
feeling is magnified a thousand times, it's like real life,
only better. And the only monster that can get you is your
own mind. Someone here could be using SIVR as a way to
escape from the pressures around them. They might not even
know they're hurting anyone. Penelope met the woman who she
brought into VR on the internet. Then she never heard from
her again. It doesn't make much difference who comes and
goes on there- no one suspects anything's wrong if someone
doesn't reply to a message, or if they never see someone
they were talking to again. They wouldn't know if the person
was dead or alive. Do you see what I'm saying? The person or
persons who use SIVR probably don't even know they're
hurting anybody when they go in. We can't get a trace of the
tertiary line used to connect to the supercomputer, or it's
going to look suspicious," he said softly. They neared the
exit, a set of double doors with two guards in gray army
fatigues on either side. Their footsteps echoed down the
white hall. As they were about to push through the doors, a
guard reached out and grabbed Scully's arm. Her eyes shot
nervously to Mulder, and a cold clench of fear ran through
her stomach.
        "Badges, please," he said in a dark even voice.
Scully pulled her arm away from him, and yanked the clip
badge from the lapel of her jacket. The two metal pieces
connected together with a snap, as she handed it back to the
guard. Mulder pulled his off, and gave it to the guard,
also. He threw them in a bin next to the door and smiled at
Scully. "Good-bye miss," he said.
        Mulder reached over Scully's head and pushed at the
door, holding it open for her. She breathed a sigh of relief
once they were outside. "Jesus, Mulder, that scared me," she
said.
        He gave a half-grin. "They'd shoot me, not you," he
teased.
        Scully's blue eyes pierced his for a moment. "Don't
you even joke about that!" she exclaimed, walking just a bit
faster across the pavement where the gray rental car sat.
"I'm tired of visiting hospitals," she mumbled, vying for a
suitable answer for her behavior. She knew Mulder usually
had bad timing for his off comments, and his comment
ordinarily wouldn't bother her. She'd been really scared
though. When that guard had grabbed her arm, she had thought
she'd had her last adventure with Mulder. But it hadn't been
just her. She knew with Deep Throat gone there would be no
one who would bail Mulder out if he was in a jam. Mr. X
surely wouldn't. He was entirely too strict about saving his
own ass rather than helping them. They might let her go with
a reprimand, but Mulder- Mulder would surely have a worse
fate. And she couldn't stand the though of someone hurting
him.
        She swallowed, and waited for him to unlock the
passenger car door. When she got in, she sighed. "Mulder, I
just-"
        "I think we should talk with Penelope again
tomorrow. Whoever's been going into SIVR is bound to call
again, to set up everything with Penelope's line, so she can
connect with the other people. You can go into SIVR, and
nothing happened to you. When the person calls, I want you
to be ready, and see if you can take both of us in. We can
find out who's been calling, and see if it's been on
purpose, or if it was unintentional," he said, cutting her
off. Scully leaned back in her seat. The barrier again. She
felt like she was beating her head against a brick wall, and
no matter how hard she hit it, the wall wouldn't open up to
her. Every time there was more to be said, he would cut her
off with a counteractive subject change. She stared angrily
out the window, as they passed buildings and cars. She
didn't speak again.

        Mulder reached his hotel room and collapsed on the
bed. He wanted to run. He felt full of pent up energy, and
needed a release. There was nothing he could do right now.
Scully probably wouldn't feel like going over to Penelope's
now. He wished he hadn't cut her off. But he just couldn't
listen to her apologies for her own emotions. He wouldn't do
it. It hurt too much.
        He stripped out of his suit, and redressed in a pair
of gray sweat pants that had been hacked off at mid-thigh to
make a pair of shorts and a gray sweat shirt that had no
arms. It was going to rain, but he didn't care. Maybe the
rain could cool off the fire in his soul. Maybe it could
dispel the waves of emotions that burned in him when he saw
her. He was so preoccupied that he didn't notice the small
yellow post-it note that had been pasted onto the mirror
above the dresser, until he went to leave. It was blank, but
it didn't matter. Mulder knew who had summoned him.

        The air was cool and relaxing against his skin. It
ruffled his hair, and he could smell the oncoming storm,
sweet and fragrant water vapor in the air. The smell of the
city and the smog got to him sometimes. Now was one of those
times when he would have liked to be in the country, in a
park someplace, smelling the trees and grasses. The smog and
smoke that floated in a hazy drift over the city was getting
to him. He slowed his running to a walk as he neared the
alley. A black sedan was parked in the corner, the engine
still running, silently waiting. Mulder approached it
carefully. There was something he didn't like about this.
The car door opened suddenly, and hit him in the gut. Mulder
doubled over, clutching his stomach, and a sleek black
panther emerged from the car. She pounced on him, pinning
him to the ground. Mulder fumbled for his gun, before
remembering that he had left it back up at the room.
Everything else happened in a flash. He brought his fist up,
and caught the panther in the stomach. The big cat rolled
off of him, and he watched her shift forms, back to a woman
with long dark hair. He glanced at her for an instant and
remembered Kristin before something came flying at him from
behind the car. The orange and black tiger jumped on top of
him, swiping at his head. Mulder brought his arms up, and
wiggled away. The tiger let out a powerful roar, and rammed
Mulder with its head. Mulder fell back against a garbage
dumpster. His head hit the side of the dumpster, and
everything was dark and bleary to him. He heard the horn of
the sedan give off a blast as though he were underwater, and
heard the tires squeal against the pavement as it pulled
away. Mulder fell against the dumpster, trying to gain his
breath, trying to look at his surroundings. He was vaguely
aware of blood seeping down the side of his face. It fell
into a sticky red pool in his lap, and he collapsed into
blackness.
        Overhead, the sky rumbled darkly. Lightning darted
in and out of the clouds, a warning sign of the storm.
Softly, it began to rain.

        Scully stepped out of the shower. Her entire body
felt mellow, relaxed from the force of the hot water beating
down on her. She had fixed her wounds, the small cuts had
healed nicely, and she doubted there would be a resulting
scar. Now she was wrapped in a thin white robe. She dried
her hair, and sighed. She was just about to slip into her
nightgown when a knock sounded at the door. Her eyes darted
to her gun lying on the nightstand by her bed. She went to
the peephole, and looked out. She quickly unlocked the door,
and opened it wide. Mulder almost spilled into her arms. "Oh
my God," she breathed. She struggled to help him. She laid
him on the bed gently. His forehead was bleeding, small
trickles of blood running down the sides of his face. Blood
was on his chest, his shorts, everywhere. She took out her
medical kit immediately and found her penknife. She slit his
shirt, sliding the cloth out from under him, and took a wet
washcloth and wiped the blood from his head and chest
gently. The cut wasn't as bad as she had first thought. It
was at the right side of his forehead, above the three
scratch marks from before. It was a slight gash, not very
deep, but very bloody. She didn't think it would need
stitches. Carefully, she put gauze over it, and lay down
beside him.
        "Scully- they attacked me in the alley- two of them,
no, three- someone was driving the car-"
        "Don't speak," she hushed him, running a hand
through his hair while the other kept the gauze firmly in
place on his head. "Just try to go to sleep, all right?" she
said softly. Scully leaned over and shut off the light,
enclosing the room in darkness. She spread herself out on
the right side of him, the medical equipment on the other
side. She put a hand on his chest, and her head against the
pillows, looking at him. "Go to sleep, all right?" she
asked, drifting into her own wave.

        Scully awoke in darkness. She glanced a the alarm
clock by the bed which read eleven twenty-one. She sat up,
and looked at Mulder. He awoke when she switched on the
light, and looked at her. Scully realized she hadn't changed
out of her robe, and peeled the gauze off his head. The cut
was closing up, but it needed disinfectant, just to be sure
everything was all right.
        Scully wasn't sure how it happened, or why. Maybe
she wanted it to happen, maybe she'd planned it that way, or
maybe it was just one of those things. Looking back, she
thought she might have twisted her body the wrong way. But
when she leaned over his body, stretching for the
disinfectant in the medical kit, her breast slid from
beneath the robe. It pressed against his chest, skin to
skin, and she grit her teeth. Hopefully she could just fix
her robe when she came back, and he would be so out if it he
wouldn't know...
        But then an iron clad arm hurled itself around her
waist, and a hand came tumbling through her hair. She stared
wide eyed at Mulder. He could feel her breast, her own hot
flesh against his own, and shuddered. He hauled her on top
of him with his arm, and the robe shifted and her bare leg
touched his own. The surge of lust was immeasurable. He had
to have her. Now, dear God, or he would die...
        She stared deep into his eyes. She wanted him so
much. Would he be well enough? Would his wounds affect him?
        *WHAT WAS SHE THINKING?*
        Mulder? No! She couldn't. It could only cause
complications in her life, she could ruin her friendship
with him...
        But then she felt his hard thigh against her own.
She could feel his body shudder with the force of his
desire, and it made her tremble. His hand combed gently
through her hair, and then brought her head down to his own.
He leaned up and caught her mouth. The kiss was slow and
draining. She couldn't think, she couldn't concentrate. Him,
him, him. He was so close, she wanted him, he wanted her,
they could satisfy the atavistic desire running through them
right now. She pulled away, and gasped, putting her forehead
against his own. "I need you Dana," he whispered in a hoarse
voice. He planted a kiss on her cheek. "I need you now," he
said. His mouth touched her chin softly, and Scully felt all
resistance shuffle out of her. "Let me have you, Dana. Let
me make love to you," he pleaded.
        She put a hand through black hair that felt like the
softest silk. "Yes, Mulder. I want you, I want you to make
love to me," she whispered against his face. His hand
removed itself from her hair, and went to the point where
her breast collided with his chest. His thumb caressed over
her nipple, and she groaned. His other hand went down,
cupping her derriere through the thin white robe. He gasped
slightly, and rolled over, pushing the medical kit aside. It
clattered to the floor with a bang, and he pushed himself on
top of her. His tongue assaulted her mouth violently, and he
moaned in her mouth when she opened up to him, and came on
with a counterattack of her own. All he could concentrate on
was the need. The need to have her, to touch all those
intimate places on her body, to explore them thoroughly. He
sat up, and looked down at her. The pleasure came in the
pain of drawing it out. Making every touch burn into his
mind, because he might never get the chance to touch her
like this again. Both hands came to the knot in her robe. He
pulled it away softly, delicately, and opened the robe. Her
body was just how he had thought it. Curves, planes, angles.
A thousand different places. He looked up at her eyes. They
were clouded, waiting for him to touch her. He reached out
and softly cupped her breast.
        "You're so beautiful, Dana," he said, leaning down.
His mouth touched her neck, his tongue swirling against her
skin. She gasped as it drifted over her breast, touching,
feeling, tasting. Her hands dove into his hair, raking
through it again and again.
        His left hand danced up her thigh, and wisped down,
inwards to the center of her. When his thumb parted her
secret lips she cried out. "Oh," she said, her voice loud
and throaty. "Oh, God," she breathed. Her back arched
against him, and she felt a tingling sensation run from head
to toe. His head moved to the center of her chest, and
slipped over to her other breast. She tugged softly at his
hair, feeling every pore of her body renewed with a filling
energy. His energy. She was soaring, screaming, drifting in
a place of consciousness and ecstasy. Sounds irrupted around
her, love sounds. She couldn't tell if they were hers or
his. They all seemed one and the same now, and she curled
her toes. She was floating in a place where nothing could
harm her, where she felt like a cloud, drifty, dreamy.
        When the spinning stopped, and she could think
again, she lifted her head up and looked at him. His mouth
was at her abdomen, and she could feel his body tense with
the desire he was holding back. The pleasure-pain that
filled him, and made him want her more and more. When his
mouth centered itself lower, she threw her head back and
moaned. "Oh, Mulder." Her nails bit into his shoulder. "Now,
now," she pleaded with him. He couldn't though. He had
waited far too long for the quick and easy release his body
pleaded for him to make. He continued his exploration.
Touching every inch of her with his hands, his mouth, his
tongue. Everywhere he could. He leaned up again, and she
felt him pressed into her, the only barrier the cutoff
shorts that still adorned his body. He would draw everything
out, make it last. Scully realized exactly what he was
doing. She smiled seductively, and rolled over as his mouth
swooped down upon her own. She looked around, searching the
crumpled bedcovers until she found her penknife. She looked
deeply into his eyes that purely adored her. They stared up
at her with the most incredible starry look. A hand cupped
her derriere lightly, and she licked her lips slowly, and
brought the hand that held the penknife down to the
waistline of his shorts. "Do you trust me, Mulder?" she
asked, holding the knife above him.
        Mulder gasped as she pulled the waistline of his
shorts, and stuck the knife into the middle. "Yes, Dana," he
groaned.
        She slit the shorts from midpoint up, and brought
her hands to his thigh. One hand held up the shorts while
the other stuck the penknife through. "Do you want me?" she
asked in a low voice.
        He nodded desperately. His body screeched. Now, for
God sake, take her now.
        She slit one side of the shorts, and moved to the
other side. "Do you need me, Mulder?" she asked. There was
something almost demonic in the way she said it, and the
surge of lust was incredible.
        When he nodded, she smiled wide. Her hands came to
the center of his shorts. One more rip, and there would be
no boundaries between them. Each was braced, prepared to
burn the last bridge. Suddenly, she felt two larger hands
covering her own. She looked up into his eyes. "Do you love
me, Dana?" he asked.
        She paused, her mouth slightly open. Her soul melted
in chocolate eyes, and she put a hand to the side of his
face. "Do you love me?" he asked again, shaking her
slightly.
        She smiled. "Yes, Mulder, I love you. I tried not to-
it would only complicate things, but I can't help it," she
tried to explain.
        A hand came and cupped her mouth softly. "I love
you, too, Dana. That's all that matters now," he whispered.
She opened her mouth against his palm, and licked it softly.
He groaned, and she felt a new wave of lust surge inside
him. She put both hands down, took the fabric in her fists
and tore. It ripped, and she pulled it away, flinging it
aside. He throbbed against her, and his hands pulled her
back down to him. A hand tangoed in her hair, and he licked
her lips softly until her mouth opened, to a sensual dance.
He pulled away, and rolled twice back to the right.
        "Talk about a roll in the hay," she giggled. She
felt giddy, wonderful, like she could climb a mountain, jump
out of a plane and fly. She was immortal, she could do
anything. He reached up and shut off the light. The only
sound was the rain pounding outside, and their own dark
moans.
        He moved so they were in the center of the bed, and
spoke to her, soft, pianists hands sliding up her thighs,
opening her to him. "I love you with my heart," he gasped,
only half-catching her mouth with his. His mouth moved to
her eyebrows, kissed her eyelids, and he spoke between the
intimate touches of his lips. "I love you with my mind... my
body, oh, God, with my body," he breathed heavily on her
neck, and his mouth moved up, capturing her earlobe. "And
most of all, with my entire soul." He nibbled her earlobes,
and his hands captured the soft curves of her hips that
flared full in his palms. He pressed into her softly.
        "And I always will," he breathed.
        "I love you," she cried, before he pushed upward
into her, and there was no world anymore. There was only
him, her, as one, and everything was purely that simple.

        The man smirked suavely at the woman. She pursed her
lips. "I know how much you hate being wrong, but, you were.
Look at them. I told you it would be them, Sunflower. It can
be over, now," he admitted.
        She looked away, troubled. He hated to see a frown
on her face. She was all golden smiles, not frowns and
worries. "I don't think they're the ones," she said
dreamily. "I'm not sure what it is, but- I just have this
feeling- it's not them, at least, not now."
        The man put his arms around her. It was a daring
gesture considering his relationship to her, but maybe they
could clear the secrets. Maybe, if they had done it, since
they had cleared all the lies away, maybe he had a chance,
too. She looked up at him, comfortable in his arms, though
she knew she shouldn't be. She had a husband, another man
who adored her. But the man had been like a brother to her
all her life. She supposed he might not be too upset.
"Sunflower, don't think so darkly. We have to have hope.
Look at them- it will happen, surely now," he said, more to
himself than her. He had to keep assuring himself that now
was the time. That it was these two, finally, after so many
years, it was finally over.
        She put her head on his chest. "It could mean
nothing for them, you know. In our day, it would have meant
the world, it would be considered so scandalous for it not
to have..."
        "Can't you see the love in their eyes? It is time,
Sunflower," he said, his voice growing weaker. If only he
could tell her himself. If only he had this man's courage to
profess himself...
        She felt tears come to her eyes. She had been
waiting so long for something to happen, what she thought
was supposed to happen. Eventually, she became acquainted
with her own interpretation of why she was stuck here, and
why she always met up with the man. "I've watched her all
her life," she said quietly. "She'll do what is right, no
matter what her heart tells her."
        The man bit his lip. "Just like you, Sunflower."
        The woman pulled away, and held back tears of her
own. "That's not true. I never had a doubt in my heart. God
intended me to the be with my husband, no matter what anyone
else's ideas were."
        "More to do with the devil," he muttered. "I pray
these two will make it, though. They have been through so
much, it is deserving of them."
        "Your prayers are futile."

        Scully awoke to a warm room. The sun miraculously
shone in from the plate glass windows, and the daylight
swung into the room. She paused a moment, feeling warm, and
secure and more comfortable than she had been in a long,
long time. She turned over, and looked at him. His face
seemed ragged, rough around the edges. Two arms held her to
him around the waist, and he looked tired. She smiled
gently. Peace. That's what she felt. A peace that slowed her
insides and made her smile with the warmth that captured
her. She turned again, curling into his arms, and relaxing
her head against his chest. She could hear the steady thud
of his heartbeat, and the rhythmic sound of his breathing.
She sighed and smiled softly. Last night...
        She sat up. She had had a speech prepared. A speech
to Mulder. Last night was just something that happened, they
were caught up in the moment, it could mean nothing...
        But she couldn't say that. Scully couldn't lie
again. Not to Mulder, not again. Last night was special, no
apologies were needed from either party. Last night was a
declaration she had been trying to make, and couldn't find
the words. Not until he had shown her them. Not until he had
demanded them of her could she say them. Suddenly, she felt
his breathing go irregular, and his arms around her tensed.
"Good morning," he whispered in her ear. One of his arms
removed itself so as to free his hand. He stroked her hair
gently, lovingly. "Did you sleep well?"
        She turned around, and grinned playfully up at him.
"What little sleep I did get."
        He leaned down and kissed her softly. "Last night
was the first time I haven't dreamt," he whispered. She
pulled away from his kiss and looked into his eyes. "Every
night, I usually have a nightmare. It's Samantha, or it's
you, or even both of you, and I can't help either of you,"
he said.
        She put a hand to the side of his face. "Don't blame
yourself, Mulder. You couldn't do anything about Samantha,
or me." She paused. "You know, when I went to your
apartment, your father came there. I don't know if he was in
grief, or anger, or whatever but, he blames me. You never
told him that the person that came back wasn't your sister.
They knew you had traded my life for hers, and he wanted to
know why. You never told me why, either."
        Mulder squeezed her gently, and kissed her forehead.
"Dana, all my life, I've been searching for her, waiting for
her. It's my whole purpose in life, my mission. I really did
think it was her, but..."
        She urged him on, "But what?"
        He buried his head in her hair. "After you
disappeared, I had a lot of time to think. And I realized
how... important you are to me, not just professionally, but
personally, too. In a way, you were like a sister. You were
there for me when I really needed you, even when I didn't
want you there. I realized that I had never really told you
how I felt. I never knew what a wonderful person you are,
how much I needed you until you were gone. And as much as
the pain of losing Samantha hurts, the thought of losing
another person, the thought of losing you... I couldn't do
it. I had just gotten you back, it was like a miracle... I
couldn't let you go again. There was something, so...
different, I don't know how to explain it. It felt more like
I'd be killing myself-"
        She hushed him with a kiss. A tear rolled down her
cheek. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you before. I'm sorry I
lied, and I kept everything away," she wept. "I never knew I
could feel this way about anyone, anything."
        He held her close, fighting away the tears in his
own eyes. He loved her so much, to finally be with her was
amazing. He pulled back and grinned. "We're not supposed to
be crying. I have a couple ideas of my own, you know-"
        "What about work? You said you wanted to go to
Penelope's today," she reminded him.
        He groaned. "Must you bring up work? Why can't we
stay here. We can make love, relax, make love again."
        "A lot of things on your mind, Mulder," she teased.
"But, really, we do have things to talk about."
        He nuzzled her neck. "Like what?"
        "Like the fact that things are going to be
different, at work for both of us. Like the fact that we'd
better keep this entire thing under wraps, or Skinner will
find out. You know the Bureau already doesn't like the X-
Files, and if they find out we're involved, they might
suspect I'm giving you special treatment. And we have to
keep our professional and personal lives separate. We'll
still be getting two hotel rooms, so everything will appear
just as it was before," she explained reasonably.
        Mulder pulled back, and looked into her eyes. "I
know, I know things will have to appear just as they were
before. What about later on, though?" he asked softly.
        She furrowed her brows. "What do you mean?"
        "What if we decide we want to get married, or we
want to further our relationship, or something?"
        She paused. "We'll cross that bridge when we come to
it," she said. "Now, though, we have a lot of work to do,
and I have to take a shower." She threw the bedcovers aside,
and giggled inanely at the torn pair of shorts lying by her
feet. "And you need some new clothes. Good thing we have
adjoining rooms. I would hate to see you try and creep to
your room in your birthday suit," she winked at him, and
slipped into the bathroom.
        Mulder jumped out of bed, and knocked on the door.
"Do you need any help?" he almost yelled.
        Scully answered the door, on hip cocked, and
smiling. "Why, I thought you'd never ask," she said, pulling
him into the bathroom. She giggled and the door shut with a
bang.

        Mulder almost crashed on the way to Penelope's,
watching Scully. She had an enormous grin on her face, and
the wind coming in from the open window blew back her red
hair that shone like silk. When they did get to Penelope's,
they stumbled over words explaining the situation, and
trying not to get distracted. Penelope nodded dully, and
then trudge back upstairs with the explanation, "Do whatever
you want- if you get up before noon on a Saturday, you're
entitled."
        Scully smiled, and reclined in Penelope's executive
chair. She was dressed in jean shorts and a short sleeved
jean blouse. Mulder knelt beside her, and began hooking up
the phone trace. It would tell them where the caller was
coming from within thirty seconds if it was a local number.
"That's it. The phone trace is set up. It will give us the
direct number, extension, everything."
        "Great. All we'll have to do is disconnect whoever
did this, and then bring them into VR. I want to bring you
in, too, Mulder. If whoever's doing this has someone else in
there, I won't stand a chance by myself. Especially if its
one of the members of Project Mammalia."
        He smiled, and kissed her knee gently. "I won't let
them hurt you," he swore.
        She smirked, and he kissed her other knee, and
Scully shivered. "Mulder, Mulder-"
        He looked up at her.
        "Not here," she said darkly.
        He frowned. "Why not? Penelope's upstairs sleeping,
Graham's not around..."
        Her eyes bulged. "Are you crazy? Never mind, I know
the answer!" she teased looking away.
        "Only love can make someone crazy, and you are
mine," he said emphatically.
        "I thought you two weren't- whoa, didn't realize I
could miss so many things," Graham said, heaving himself
through Penelope's open window. He ran a hand through
tangled and messy black hair, and smiled dully at Scully.
"What are you guys doing here?"
        Mulder stood, and winked at Scully. "We're waiting
for a phone call, actually." Mulder and Graham wandered into
Penelope's kitchen, talking. Scully remained seated,
breathing in the air. A fragrant blast of air hit her
nostrils, and she inhaled the sweet smell deeply.
        Her last conscious thought was of Mulder.

        When Mulder returned to the central part of
Penelope's apartment, and didn't see Scully, he didn't
panic. Calm, cool, that was always his way. "Scully?" he
called. He glanced around, and saw the keys to the car still
sitting on the computer desk. Something inside him became
frantic. He searched the apartment, calling her name loudly.
Penelope came downstairs, rubbing her eyes, and stood
blankly next to Graham while Mulder yelled Scully's name. He
searched the roof, and then came back in. His eyes were
wide, and his breathing heavy and irregular. "Where is she?
Have you seen her? Where did she go?" he asked.
        The phone rang, and Mulder picked it up blindly,
waiting for Scully. Instead, he saw twisting and turning,
like gold and pink and purple things rushed at him, and then
he was somewhere totally different. Scully escaped his mind
for a fraction of a second, and he realized he was in SIVR.
"Scully?" he called out.
        A woman with dark black hair that came to her elbows
walked calmly up to him. He was standing in the middle of a
long field with dead grass that came to mid-thigh. "Hello,"
she said softly.
        "Who are you?" he asked suspiciously.
        "I am everyone, and no one. I am whoever you want me
to be. "
        "I want answers."
        The woman nodded. "We were sent to attack you, as a
practice target. We needed to get rid of your partner."
        "Where is she, what have you done with her?"
        The woman nodded again, and her form changed. She
shifted into a round woman with short black hair who had the
most compassionate hazel eyes he had ever seen. "Dana is
fine, Fox. You have to get to her though. If you don't reach
her in time, all is lost."
        "Will they kill her?"
        The woman shook her head, and her eyes were filled
with the sorrow of the saints. "No. Worse."
        "Where is she?"
        "I don't know. You have to ask him. He can tell you.
Hurry, Fox, or there will be no more of us," she said. Her
voice was cracking, shifting, until there were two. One was
the woman's, and the other was Scully's. "Help us, help us!"
        Then it was just the woman's voice. "You can't
change the stars, you can't change the past, you can't
change the future."
        "No!" Mulder cried. His voice was mixing with
someone else's. A deeper, richer voice than his own. "I
won't let them take you away from me again! We can change
anything. They can change anything. Anything is possible as
long as I-" here the deeper voice dropped off, "love you!"
        The ground began to rumble. Something was coming up
from the ground between Mulder and the woman. "Scully!" he
screeched. The wall came up. It was a heavy, solid brick
wall, shooting towards the sky. Mulder jumped for the edge.
His finger connected with the concrete, and the light
crackled.
        "Scully, no!" he yelled, jumping away from phone. He
let it crumble to the floor, and looked wide-eyed and scared
at Penelope and Graham who stared stupidly at him. How could
they just stare when she was in trouble? When she might die?
        "Don't go anywhere, just- keep the phone off the
hook," he said softly, and dashed out the door. He had to
get to Scully. Hurry, hurry.
        Or all is lost.

        Mulder was lost for the next few hours. He didn't
know where he was going, but he was going someplace. The
clouds thundered in overhead again, and the wind picked up.
Eventually, he found himself walking towards someplace. A
destination he had never been to before, but one he needed
to go to. He turned down the alley not knowing what to
expect. First wooden door on the left. He reached for the
handle, and opened it. She had been here. Mulder could feel
it. Scully had been where he was standing. Even though she
wasn't here now, he could feel her life force, as if the
place he was now in still held a faint reminder of her.
Mulder looked around. A Church. As far as he knew, Scully
had little belief in God. He knew believing was important to
her. Her only religious symbol had been the small cross that
always adorned her neck. He had even seen it on her as she
slept, he didn't think she ever took it off, for whatever
her reason was. He looked around. The Church wasn't very
big, several pews, with the lacquer peeling from them. Three
statues stood to the right of the pews. Mulder dipped his
fingers in the holy water, and crossed himself. He started
walking up the aisle, covered with red carpeting that was
ragged and worn. The floorboards creaked under his weight,
as he followed her footsteps, between the separation, to the
statues. He paused in front of the one of St. Theresa. He
glanced. One candle was halfway burned, but it had blown
out. He took a small stick between his fingertips, and relit
it.
        The boards behind him creaked, and he turned, almost
expecting Scully. Instead, he was met with a kindly old
priest. The man had tough, gnarled hands, a receding
hairline, and kind brown eyes. "Hello," he said gently.
"What are you doing here, my son?" he asked.
        Mulder looked down. "I'm not sure, Father."
        "Sit down, you look worried," he said, gesturing to
a pew up front. The old man sat down, and Mulder came and
sat beside him. "What is your name?"
        "Mulder," he said, looking around the Church.
        The priest smiled. "I'm Father James Andrews. Tell
me what's worrying you."
        Mulder glanced over at Father James. The man was
wise, kind, and Mulder immediately trusted him. "My partner
is missing. I don't know where she is, I can't find her. I
don't know what to do. I left her side for a few seconds,
and then she was gone. I don't want to lose her, I don't
know where she is, how to find her. I don't even know where
to start," he rushed headlong.
        Father James nodded solemnly. "She is just your
partner?" he asked sternly.
        The rush of emotion that hit Mulder was incredible.
"No, she's so much more. She's everything to me. I can't
even say I love her. It's so much more than love. I've never
felt this way about anyone in my life," he gushed.
        The old man smiled gently. "You will always feel
that way, Mulder. You're going to be faced with a choice,
though. Dana will have no control over the choice, this
time. This time it is up to you to decide what is right in
your mind, and what is right in your heart. You will have to
make a decision, very, very soon. A man will come to you. He
will tell you what you need to know. You have to decide what
is more important. Dana will have no decision in this case,
Mulder. It is important you realize that, important you all
realize that. She is not the problem now, it is him," the
old man said.
        Mulder turned to him. "How do you know about
Scully?"
        Brown eyes looked compassionately back at him. "Fox,
I know a lot of things. You are not false in heart, but this
decision is everything. Remember that." Father James stood
on old, weary bones. "If you love her as much as you say,
you will make the right decision, whatever that is."
        Mulder swallowed as the old man sauntered up the
steps, and into a back room. Then he looked around. A
choice. A decision. He would do anything to love her. He
would do anything to see her, to know that she was all
right. He wanted to cry. Where was she? Why couldn't he find
her?
        In a moment, he realized what had happened. that the
meaning of everything he had always been fighting for was
nothing. That this was a reminder to him like the constant
reminder that he would always jump for what he needed and
fall short. Just by a few centimeters. His destiny had been
planned out a long time ago, written in the blood of his
ancestors- a destiny he couldn't fight. He was repeating
history's pattern, the way it was always repeated, and he
could do nothing to stop the events unfolding before him. He
could only watch in horror as the writing on the wall became
reality. You can't change the print, you can't change the
past. And if you can't change the past, then any hope of a
different, new future, a hopeful one, is lost.
        It was his destiny, and he couldn't turn away. It
was the only way, it was their ancestor's way.
        "Where do we learn about the present? We look to the
past."
        Words that had escaped his own lips, words that he
had said a log time ago, that had come true as they escaped
his mouth. If only he had known it would turn out this way.
Maybe he could have saved everything. Maybes were his life,
maybes, what-ifs, and blame.
        "The blame is not on your shoulder, you  can't blame
yourself."
        Words were everything. They conveyed thoughts,
ideas, feelings. Feelings most important. Words could
complete a destiny, show a life, an idea that was doomed to
fail because you can't change the writing. You can't change
the writing. You can't change anything. Those were the words
she had said to him, the words that he couldn't deny. But
she's not here now.
        "But now they're not here."
        It was amazing how much he remembered. The words he
had spoken, the words she had spoken, all of them planned
out, written before they could say them, by their ancestors,
who had said all the words. They were supposed to be the
ones to change things. But how could they change the future
if they couldn't change the past?

        The man looked down at the woman. He called her
Sunflower because her of her dark hair, and the golden
happiness that always had seemed to flow around her when she
was younger. It didn't now. Now there was no happiness, now
here was only the sorrow because he knew they couldn't
change anything. A new star hadn't been born, to fix
everything. Only a passing comet. The man took the blame
himself. It was, after all, his fault. The woman had been
doubtful, and her doubts had given him reason to worry.
Reason to keep to himself the words that could convey the
feelings. He didn't want to feel the scars open and bleed
again. He was afraid. And as long as that fear burned in
him, it would overshadow the words he needed to speak. It
would curse all the generations so forth to the damnation he
had taken up on himself to feel. Others shouldn't have to
bear it like he had. It was his fault this was happening
now. It had come to the point. Only a few words, and it
could have been so. And there would be no more pain. If he
could whisper them to her, she would respond, and then...
        Then nothing!
        He stared down at her, and closed his eyes deeply.
"I'm sorry," he whispered.
        She knew it was their own fault. "I told you before
I suspected it was wrong. They'll search forever now, and
this generation will continue in our paths."
        The man bowed his head. His son didn't need this
pain. He had already experienced the pain of losing a
Sunflower. He didn't need to lose another one. "Maybe
there's a way," he said, the plan taking form in his mind.
"Maybe there's a way to ease the pain, if not erase it."
        He turned to the woman, and cupped her face in his
hands. "We can give them another chance."
        The woman turned her face up to him, and listened.

        (OOC:Please Don't Be Scared by Sheena Easton BIC:)
        The call came in to Mulder's hotel room at three in
the morning. He hadn't been sleeping anyways. How could he
sleep with Dana so far away? How could he sleep knowing she
might not be sleeping, that she might be in pain while he
was sleeping comfortably? It was the thought that had kept
him lying awake for endless nights while she was gone. She
was a part of him, part of his star-crossed destiny.
        He picked it up, and the click on the end told him
who it was, or who it should be. He was instantly reminded
of the yellow post-it note on his mirror, and the events
that had transpired. Only this time, if they did hurt him,
there would be no one to take him in. Scully wouldn't be
there to heal his wounds, she wouldn't be there when he woke
up cold and alone.
        He sat up, and pulled on a shirt, grabbing the
holster and his leather jacket.
        The L.A. air was cool on his skin, and it made him
shiver. A wind ruffled his hair, and blew papers and dust
down the street in front of him. The alley was deserted
except for a Black sedan, as it had been before. He pulled
his gun out of the holster, and paused, waiting to hear the
car door open, and something large come out and attack him
like last time.
        But it didn't. The door swung open, and a familiar
voice welcomed him inside.
        "No. Come out here," he said suspiciously. There was
no way he was taking another chance like he had before. His
head still ached from the cut of the tiger's claw.
        The door on the driver's side swung open, and the
tall black man stepped out. He seemed to melt into the
natural shadows of the night, as if he were a part of them
directly. A mystery man, like always. He nodded to the drawn
gun in Mulder's hand. "Why are you taking such precautions,
Mr. Mulder? I don't believe I've pointed a gun at you in a
long time."
        "It wasn't against you," Mulder replied viciously.
"Where is she?"
        "I can't tell you."
        "Then why did you call?"
        Mr. X looked around. "We are in great danger here.
Get in, quickly," he urged. Mulder pause a moment, and then
sat in the passenger's seat. A moment later Mr. X got in,
and began to drive on the full and busy streets of L.A.
        "What made you think you had to bring your weapon
along, Mr. Mulder?"
        Mulder swallowed, and explained about the post-it
note. "I wasn't going to take any chances," he said softly.
        Mr. X swore under his breath. "They know you have
been talking to someone, Mulder. I told you before, you're
not going to get me killed with your investigations. It's
more dangerous than ever for you."
        "Why?"
        Mr. X paused a red light. "Agent Scully was
kidnapped, as you have probably already concluded. Someone
tried to kill both you and her. Someone from Project
Mammalia, I congratulate your sources. Project Mammalia is
directly linked with the Committee. The only reason we're
letting you get this far is because we know you won't talk,
Mulder. We need you, we trust you to a certain degree. SIVR
is a top secret project, as is Project Mammalia. They knew
you had been following the case, that's why they tried to
get rid of you and Scully. The members of Project Mammalia
were the ones who tried to rid the world of you. They've
kidnapped Agent Scully because they found out she could go
into SIVR. It's dangerous. Your life, and hers is at stake.
They won't think twice about getting rid of her if it proves
to be too much of a problem. I am in a position to help, to
some extent. I can get them to give Agent Scully back to
you, if you wish. They will, of course, erase her memory
with an amnesiac. You will tell her nothing," he ordered,
stepping on the gas pedal.
        The car lurched forwards, speeding down the L.A.
street. "Why? Scully's seen a lot- she hasn't said anything
yet? Why are you taking her now?"
        Mr. X let the steering wheel slide through his
fingers as he made a turn. "Agent Mulder, I'm doing you a
favor, because I know how much you care for Scully. I could
let them perform all their tests on her they wanted to,
until they decided what she and Penelope Melicin have in
common that allows them to go into SIVR."
        Mulder was silent a moment. He should be thankful to
the man across from him. Mr. X didn't have to save Scully's
life, and Mulder loved her more than anything in the world.
Once he got her back, they would be reunited, and they could
go on with their lives...
        They will, of course, erase her memory.
        He stared over at the tall black man, a new fear
striking his heart. "How much of her memory with they
erase?" he asked suspiciously.
        Mr. X raised an eyebrow and made another turn. "The
past week will be gone. She will remember none of it. We
will implant in her a false memory of the past week none of
it including SIVR, or Project Mammalia. No harm will come to
her," he assured the younger man.
        Mulder stared at his hands. If they erased the past
week of Scully's memory, she wouldn't remember SIVR, she
wouldn't remember him. She wouldn't remember falling in love
with him, she wouldn't remember making love with him. She
would only remember what they told her to remember. And if
he couldn't explain about SIVR, or Project Mammalia, how
could he ever explain why she had fallen in love with him.
If not for SIVR, they would still be as they were before,
very close friends who cared very deeply for one another,
but nothing more. He didn't know if he could go back to
being that way. Could he hide everything he knew, his love
for her? He closed his eyes. "How long do I have to think
about it?" he asked softly.
        The older man eyed him. "What is there to think
about? We will erase the past memory week, implant the false
ideas of what has gone on in her, and you will have her
back. Would you rather have her killed?" he challenged
Mulder.
        Mulder sighed. "Is there anyway you can save some
memories and erase others?"
        He shook his head. "We don't have control over that
yet. What is so important?"
        "Nothing," he muttered. "I just- I need to find
something out from her before you erase the memory- can I
see her somehow?"
        He turned another corner. "I can give you the
address of the hospital where they are keeping her. It's a
government hospital. You will be allowed to get in to see
her. Listen to me, though, Agent Mulder. They will perform
tests on her in the period before I stop it. Tomorrow at
noon, I'm giving the order down," he said. "Unless you want
her killed?"
        Mulder shook his head. "Never."
        Mr. X handed him a single white envelope. "In here
is the information you will need to get in. If they don't
let you in at the front desk, then do not use other methods.
I cannot hold these people off, Mulder, not without risking
myself, which is something I'm not prepared to do."
        The car jerked to a halt, and Mulder realized they
were back in the side alley of his hotel. "Thank you," he
mumbled as he stepped out. The black Sedan disappeared into
the night. Mulder bowed his head. A breeze blew, and a
drizzle began to cover him. He stood in the rain for what
could have been hours. The tears on his face mingled with
the droplets. He trudged into his hotel room, and dropped
the envelope on his bed. Then he went into Scully's room.
God, he could smell her, if he closed his eyes and
concentrated, he could hear her whimsical laughter, and see
her beautiful face. He was desperate. How could he explain
everything to her without telling her about SIVR. How could
he tell her at all?
        "Nice to see you awake again, Dana, oh, and by the
way, did I tell you we're lovers now?"
        Impossible. He lay down on her bed. He wouldn't
sleep, but it was as close as he could get to her. How could
he go back to being "just friends" with her? There was only
one way. He had to get her out of there himself. What he
would do, where he could hide her, he didn't know. It only
mattered that he was able to get her out of there. With
everything in place in her mind. He buried his face in his
hands, and sighed into them.
        History was repeating itself.

        Scully awoke from her nightmare, her breathing
heavy. She was hooked up to various monitors, and other
machines, lying in a starched white hospital bed. She began
to cry softly. She wanted out of here. She wanted to be
someplace safe, in Mulder's arms, perhaps. Anyplace where
they couldn't poke and prod her like a circus freak. They
had operated on her, done all kinds of things to her, given
her drugs, truth serums, everything.
        She broke down completely, her dignified tears
turning into complete sobs. She was so scared. What if she
didn't get out of here? What if she never saw Mulder, or her
mother, or her sister and brothers again? What if she died?
        Two strong arms suddenly encompassed her. She looked
up, startled, and gasped. "Oh my God," she breathed, and
buried her face in Mulder's chest. "Am I dreaming? Please,
tell me I'm not dreaming," she begged.
        Mulder shifted his weight, and climbed onto the
hospital bed with her. She reached a hand up, and felt his
face. The planes and angles, to make sure he was there. That
she wasn't having delusions. "I'm really here, Dana," he
hushed her. Moonlight spilled in, and Scully felt a slight
breeze touch her skin and stir the hairs on her arms.
        "God, how did you find me?" she asked, staring up
into hazel brown eyes that were filled with adoration. He
wiped the tears gently from her face with his thumb. His
hands cupped her face, so he could stare down at her.
        Mulder put his lips on hers gently. "God, Dana, I
was so worried about you. I was so afraid they were hurting
you, God," he whispered, hugging her. His arms were tight,
keeping her pressed close to him, and his heart felt so full
of love, he thought he was going to burst. "I'll never let
anyone hurt you. If they've hurt you, I'll kill them, just
tell me-"
        Scully shook her head, and kissed the side of his
face. "It doesn't matter. You're here with me, nothing else
matters now," she whispered. Her hands ran under his shirt,
pressing her palm flat against his warm chest. "I love you.
I've always loved you. I've never felt so much for anyone in
my life," she declared. She sunk another arm under his
shirt, and tugged it upward.
        "Scully," he gasped. "We have to get out of here, we
can't do this, not right now," he said, trying to restrain
himself.
        She removed her arms gently. "You're right, I'll
take a raincheck."
        "You'll get it with interest as soon as we're out of
here, I can assure you," he said.
        "How did you get in?"
        "I'll explain later. First, I need you to do
something. I have a laptop I brought. If I can't get you out
of here, they're going to erase the memory of the past week.
You won't remember anything about Project Mammalia, or SIVR,
but you also won't remember us. You have to remember us. I
want you to modem a file out to your database in D.C., so
you can remind yourself somehow," he explained, setting the
laptop up.
        She waited for the screen to come up, the slight
beep she prayed no one would hear that told her she was
online. She looked expectantly at him. "What should I
write?" she asked softly.
        He leaned down and kissed her. There was a moment of
silence. A moment when the demons were waiting in the
doorway, when history could take another turn, if the right
words were whispered. "Whatever's in your heart, Sunflower,"
he whispered. History followed itself, the door opened, the
demons poured inside. She typed a message hurriedly, and
saved it in her database, and on the disk in Penelope's
laptop.
        "Okay- what now?" she asked. Mulder set the laptop
down on the bed, and stuffed the disk in his pocket. He slid
off the bed, and helped her down. Her bare feet hit the
tiles with a smack, and Mulder realized she was only dressed
in a hospital gown. No time to change now. He took her hand
within his own, and went to the window. The white curtains
fluttered in the breeze, like ghosts reaching for them. The
ghosts of the past that were trying to retain them from
following the true destiny they needed to complete. He
looked down. He had been able to climb the trellis that was
interlaced with vines, but Scully was having trouble
standing. She was so weak from the tests...
        He climbed out. "I'm going to climb down. When I get
to the bottom, try to climb down. If you can't, jump and
I'll catch you," he promised.
        "I suppose now is not the time to tell you I'm
afraid of heights. Is there any other way?" she asked,
looking nervously down.
        Mulder looked up at her, as he began his descent. "I
won't let you fall," he whispered. She twisted her fingers,
biting her lip. Mulder hit the ground with a soft thud.
"C'mon," he called in a loud whisper.
        She looked down at him. Mulder wouldn't let her
fall. Mulder would never let anything bad happen to her. He
was the man she was going to marry. She stepped up to the
windowsill, and then, closing her eyes, pushed forward. She
had the same sensation she had had falling over the side of
her hotel balcony. She was free, floating, totally oblivious
to everything. Then the fall began. Down, down. She resisted
the urge to scream. Faster, faster, down, down...
        Two arms wrapped around her, and she collapsed on
someone's body. She sat up, and looked down. Mulder smiled
at her. "Light as a feather," he groaned, as she helped him
up. He took several deep breaths.
        "You all right, Mulder?" she asked. What if she'd
hurt him?
        He smiled. "Fine. I just had the wind knocked out of
me. Come on, we have to get out of here," he said, taking
her hand. The grass was cool and slippery under her feet,
and she slid as they tried to climb a hill. When they
reached the top, Scully grinned. The parking lot contained
the rental car. Mulder hobbled over, and she realized for
the first time he was limping. He opened the back door, and
she crawled in. "Get down on the floor, and put this over
you," he mumbled, throwing her a black sheet. She curled
herself up as tiny as possible, and heard him shut the door.
She tried to calm her heart, her breathing. She was getting
out of here. Mulder had saved her. No more needles, no more
people poking and prodding her like a piece of meat.
        She was not prepared for what happened next. It was
all a blur in her mind, but she knew what had happened. The
driver's side door opened, but a voice called out.
        "Hey! You!" A man in army fatigues dashed over as
Mulder tried to get in and shut the door. He got the car out
of park when Army Boy pointed a rifle in his face. "Get out!
Now!"
        Then harsh people were yelling, dragging her out of
the car. "Mulder! Mulder!" she screeched. Mulder tried to go
to her, but received the but of the rifle in his stomach as
a reward.
        Her screams and pleas echoed in the night.

        Two days later, Mulder sat in the same white room,
in the same hard plastic green chair that was used for
hundreds of criminals before him. None of them had been less
deserving. He sighed, and waited. The guards didn't consider
him too dangerous. He'd only been caught for a breaking and
entering, and besides, he used to be a good guy. Maybe he
even still was, and this was all a framing. That was what
Scully prayed, as she slid into the chair opposite him, and
the guard shut the heavy metal door behind her. She was
dressed in a pair of loose jeans, a white short-sleeved
blouse, and a wine-colored vest. She looked more beautiful
than ever to Mulder, and he wanted to stand and take her
into his arms, and hold her for eternity.
        Instead he stood, and smiled at her. "Hi, Dana," he
said sheepishly.
        "What the hell were you trying to do, breaking into
a Federal hospital?" she asked once she was seated across
from him.
        Mulder bowed his head. They had erased the memory,
but at least she was alive and free. "Trying to save you,"
he said softly.
        She pursed her lips angrily. "I wasn't even in the
hospital, Mulder- at least I didn't get there until I was
clubbed over the head in my hotel room. Is this the reason
you insisted we stay longer in L.A.? So you could go
breaking into someplace?" She sighed heavily. "Why did you
do it, Mulder? What were you looking for?"
        He reached over and took her hand. "Listen to me,
Dana. They erased the memory, and they replaced it with a
false one. They gave you an amnesiac to make you forget
everything. I came there looking for you, I found you, we
almost escaped." He looked away. "Have you checked your
computer files yet?" he asked softly.
        She eyed him suspiciously. "No, why?"
        "Before we tried to escape, I made you modem
something into your computer files. It might not make much
sense, but it could help you remember. I don't know what you
wrote, but you wrote something- it's in the disk, too. The
disk I had on me when they arrested me- ask them for
permission to use the disk, it'll be the same file as what's
in your own database. Or- ask him. Ask our "friend"- he gave
me the address to the hospital, he told me what they were
going to do to you. Penelope- Penelope Melicin loaned me her
laptop that I used- ask her-"
        "Mulder, even if what you're saying is true, it'll
never hold up in court. Anyone could have written anything
and stuffed it on the disk and in my database. Our "friend"
will never testify in court- he wouldn't risk the exposure.
I don't remember anything about being in a Federal hospital.
I've never even heard of Penelope Melicin!" Scully
exclaimed.
        Mulder's head fell. "I'm going to jail, Scully. And
I was justified for what I did. Despite what you may think
you know. They're lying to you, and they're using you
against me. And you're playing right along," he said,
bitterly. She leaned over, and took both his hands. She
looked into his eyes. There was so much anger there, pain
there. But there was something else in them. Something she
wanted to believe was love. Love for her. She tilted her
head softly and studied his face. She leaned forward
suddenly and kissed him. It was long and slow and sweet, and
Scully felt herself on a tidal wave. Sparks ignited, and she
could swear she remembered things. He was a good kisser, she
realized, as he cradled her face in his hands. Each sweep of
his tongue was a delicate, intimate caress. The feeling
inside was immeasurable to her. God, she was fantasizing,
she realized, recalling with a certain fondness how his
mouth would feel suckling her breast, how those pianist's
hands would slowly and leisurely drift up her thighs, how
hard and full he was, when his body was pressed tightly to
hers, and she could taste the salty sweat of his body when
she kissed him...
        She shook herself out of the kiss, and looked shyly
at him. "I'm sorry, I don't know what-"
        His mouth pressed to hers again before she could
complete the sentence, and she melted like butter. His arms
surrounded her, clinging almost desperately to her. "Don't
apologize," he breathed. "I've been waiting to do that for
days."
        She stared at him.
        "Do you remember about that raincheck, Dana?"
        Her head fell back and his mouth touched her neck,
planting light kisses there. Her body screamed for more, and
she ran her hands through his dark hair. What was she doing?
Why was he kissing her? Why did she love it?
        "I'll give you anything," he whispered softly. He
pulled away. "Can you remember any of this? Please?" he
asked, searching her blue eyes for any hint of remembrance.
But all he saw was confusion and clouded desire.
        He let go of her. "You need to go to Penelope
Melicin. She knows I borrowed her laptop- and check the file
in your database," he said. He knocked on the window, and
the guard cuffed him and led him out.

        Scully drove down the freeway, on her way to
Penelope Melicin's house. R&B music drifted out of the
radio. (OOC: Mine in the Heart <I think that's it> by
Brownstone BIC:)
        Mulder had seemed so sincere. What if he was telling
the truth?
        *Can you remember any of this? Please?*
        God, what had gone on the past week? It was almost
as if something had happened. She knew it. Something had to
have happened. It felt so good, so right when he kissed her,
and her body screamed with remembrance that wouldn't come to
her mind. Her body told her she had kissed him before, but
she knew it wasn't so. She and Mulder were good friends,
nothing more. There couldn't be anything more, could there?

        Mulder sat down on the bunk in his cell. He buried
his face in his hands. She didn't remember. Scully didn't
remember anything. Even when he'd kissed her, he couldn't
see the remembrance he needed.
        "Hey, you," a dark voice called from across the
cell. Mulder looked up. On the other bunk, a big, burly
black man sat up. He was taller than Mulder, and he wore a
blue bandanna around his head. "You wouldn't happen to have
a cigarette, would you?" he asked. Mulder shook his head.
The man's voice was tinted by an Southern accent, but each
word was pronounced with care and preciseness.
        "What's your name?" the man asked.
        "Mulder," he replied, rubbing his forehead.
        The black man smiled. "You got a first name?"
        Mulder sighed. "Fox."
        "Bet they call you Foxy, or something like that," he
chuckled. "Don't get all huffy, it's a joke, not a come-on.
My name's Albert Foche," he said, leaning over, and offering
Mulder his hand.
        Mulder took it and wasn't surprised when the big
man's hand almost broke his. "Bet they call you Big Al," he
muttered.
        Al laughed. "See, that's it. Man, you gotta loosen
up. These lawyers'll plea bargain everything down to a year
or six months. What'd you do, anyways?" he asked,
withdrawing his hand.
        Mulder sat up, and leaned against the wall. "I broke
into a Federal facility."
        Al hissed through his teeth. "That's a tough one.
They've been scared about people doing anything around
Federal facilities ever since that Oklahoma City thing.
Why'd you break in? You're not a bomber, are you?"
        He smirked, and shook his head. "They were holding
my friend captive there. I was trying to get her out."
        "Damn, they got your woman? I'd believe it.
Government is always trying to cover something up. And of
course, you'll get time. They never let anybody off who
messes with the government," Al said, shaking his head in
dismay.
        "What about you? What are you "in" for?"
        Al laughed. "You've watched too many bad cop shows,
Mulder. They think I assaulted some woman. I say it was self-
defense- I put a hand on her shoulder, and she sticks a gun
in my belly. Go figure," he said, shrugging. "So what's your
woman look like? She's got to be pretty hot for you to break
into someplace for her."
        "She's not my woman. She's just a friend I care very
deeply about. She's about a foot shorter than me, blue eyes,
red hair. She's gorgeous," he said truthfully.
        Al grinned. "Damn, guess your her man. She's got
you, hook, line and sinker."
        Mulder furrowed his brows. "What are you talking
about?"
        "It's obvious, you're in love with her. Hey, it's
cool. She know how you feel?"
        "I don't think so. I've never told her."
        Al smiled. "Keep writing her during your stay, and
make sure you tell her in every letter. I know, I've seen it
happen. They'll go leave you for some other guy no matter
how much you care about them," he said, the smile fading
into a look of dismay. "I know it sounds dismal, and I'm
sure she would never do that, but you never know about some
people."
        "Yeah," Mulder agreed softly, "you never know."

        Scully knocked five times before opening the door to
Penelope's apartment. All was quiet as she stepped in.
"Hello?" she asked the silence. "Ms. Melicin?" she called
again.
        "Penelope's not here," an English voice said. Scully
turned and saw a tall man with cold gray eyes and a slightly
receding hairline. "She's been moved temporarily. Dreadful
California heat, you know."
        Scully squared her shoulders. "Who are you?"
        "I'm Russell Sandar, Agent Scully."
        "How do you know my name?"
        "Ah," he said, putting a finger to his lips, "that's
a secret I'm not obliged to tell."
        "Is there a number or something where I can reach
Penelope?"
        "I'm afraid that's a secret, too. Now, if you don't
mind, I'm trying to ship her computer equipment to her,"
Sandar said, pushing her out the door. It shut with a bang,
and Scully sighed. Defeat was inevitable now.

        Mulder hated trials.
        They were long and boring, and never won in his
favor. So now, he slouched in a hard wooden chair and looked
over at his appointed attorney.
        The man was older, in his fifties, with a hard face
that had seen many criminals through their trials. Now,
though, he was having a conference with the judge and the
district attorney, trying to plea bargain Mulder's case.
Mulder looked behind him at Scully. She closed her eyes and
looked away.
        He reached over, and took her hand. The guard beside
him raised his eyebrows, but said nothing. "Dana," he
whispered softly. She looked up at met his eyes, almost
dissolving to tears.
        "I'm sorry," she mouthed, and withdrew her hand.
        When his attorney came back, he looked slightly
satisfied. "We've offered up a plea bargain to four months,"
he whispered to Mulder.
        "I did nothing wrong," Mulder insisted.
        His attorney nodded. "It's easier, this way,
Mulder."
        The end had begun, the demons crawled inside.
        History repeated itself, once more.

        Jacinta stood over the dark black casket that now
contained the body of one Theodore Clemens. She was dressed
in a black business suit, a thirties-style hat adorned her
head, where her black hair was pulled into a bun at the back
of her head. The black veil covered her face, and her eyes
were closed. It was her fault this had happened to Theo. If
only she hadn't taken him in, if only she had realized what
was happening when she took someone in. Hannah next to her
stared into the distance. The small hill was grassy, it was
a nice place. Jacinta bowed her head in mourning for her
friend, and placed a rose on the shiny black coffin. Hannah
sniffed, and tossed the mountain of blond hair away from her
face, so she could see.
        Hannah turned stiffly and faced the black-haired
woman. "You did this," she said coldly. "I'll kill you."
        The threat was not an empty one, but Jacinta wasn't
worried. She didn't want to live anyways, it wasn't life
what she was doing. Totally under the control of the leaders
of Project Mammalia, no will of her own. Death would mean
freedom, something she would never be able to accomplish
here.
        Jacinta turned away from the coffin.
        It was all over for her now.

        The man pulled the woman into an embrace quickly. It
was the last time he would be able to do so for a while. She
was surprised with the quick gesture, but found comfort in
the strong arms. He rocked her back and forth, as if trying
to preserve something that was bound to die, trying to let
it happen. She pulled out of his embrace lightly, and with a
nod of heads, they turned and walked away from each other.
        There were no happy endings anymore.

-TO BE CONTINUED-