Together - The Collector's Edition
by Talia
HyperTalia@aol.com

Keywords: Mulder/Scully UST

Classification: XRA

*DISCLAIMER- Fox Mulder, Dana Scully, Walter Skinner, the Cancer Man, Alex
Krycek, the Lone Gunmen, the Well Manicured Man, Marita Cov- Cova- ah hell, ya
know who I mean, and the whole idea behind "The X-Files" (WHEW) belong to the
head honcho, the big cheese, the shipper-in-denial Chris Carter. And FOX and
Ten Thirteen Productions. It includes a brief transcript from "Small Potatoes"
by Darin Morgan. Christann Drumel is the product of my own fertile, sick,
twisted imagination (yeah!) and may not be used without my permission... yadda
yadda yadda... I don't mean to offend anybody (though if they were offended
that would just prove that they're a bunch of self-centered jerks- oops) so
don't sue me because I'm not making any money Offa this. (but feel free; any
donations to the Talia Christine-saving-up-for-a-Discman-club would be greatly
appreciated).

*SPOILERS- Ummm... brief spoilers for Small Potatoes, Duane Barry, Talitha
Cumi/Herrenvolk, Colony/Endgame... but they are so small that you might not
even notice. WARNING! MEGA SPOILER FOR GETHSEMANE IF YOU READ MY END COMMENT!

 Just when you least expect it... I'm ba-ack! My new budding inspiration may
be classified as my predictions for the fourth season finale. Actually, it's
just what flashed through my sick, twisted little mind when I read, "the
ultimate relationship test" on the forever revered XF homepage, stretched,
revised, and mushed into another plot (which, believe it or not, is actually
sorta x-filey- whoa! That's a first!) Comments are thrived on, so read, flame,
criticize, love, hate, whatever. Oh, and Steph, shippers rule the world. Talia
Christine :-D

Summary: He's a man running to forget his part. She's a girl running to find
hers. Time is ticking away, for the girl that is his only hope in finding that
which had steered his life, and for the woman that makes that life worth
living. But for Fox Mulder, the only way to win is to put everything that he
trusts on the witness stand. 

* * * * * 
Together 
By Talia :-D
HyperTalia@aol.com
* * * * * 

May 18
8:37 p.m.
Washington D.C
Talia's Restaurant

"Christann? Where the hell are you? We need you over here!"

"I'm coming!!" yelled back a young girl of about seventeen, who was hurriedly
trying to serve all of her tables while her boss was screaming at her in the
background. "Christ," she muttered, jamming yet another meager tip into her
pocket, but still managing to flash a semi-flirty smile at a man whose table
she was waiting. He smiled back politely, but seemed a little preoccupied. Oh,
well. Judging by his looks, he probably had a wife and kids at home already.
She hurried back into the kitchen, and picked up another order. She reentered
the dining room and was heading to the table when three men, clad all in
black, stepped inside ominously. They pretended to scan the room, as if
looking for someone, and one of them, who looked exactly like a cross between
a hog and Arnold Schwarzeneggar, was staring straight at her.

The plates that she was holding crashed to the ground as the men started
towards her.

"CHRISTANN!" her boss yelled angrily.
	
She didn't care what the hell he thought. She was too busy running. She turned
and shoved the people behind her out of the way, and burst full speed to the
back. The men were at her heels. She heard yells, and, followed by another
scream.

Oh, shit.
	
Christann shoved the back door open and hurtled out, gulping fresh air, her
breath coming out in shaky gasps. She took off down the alley, not knowing
where she was going, and not really caring, either, as long as it was as far
away from the men as was physically possible. 
	
She knew why they were there.
	
They were there for her.
	
And, dammit, she was not going down without a fight. A small price to pay for
the truth.

She could hear tires screeching, echoing shrill screams that were emitted in
her mind. A black car hurtled out in front of her. She dodged to the right and
took off down another alley, her energy fueled only by her intense will to
live. She was the prey being hunted by the hunter, and it scared the crap out
of her.

Oh God, please, oh God, help me...

A tall figure burst out in front of her, one arm grabbing her by the waist and
the other clamping a large hand down on her mouth, ducking her down through a
small door to a warehouse. The door slammed, and she and her captor were in
darkness besides for a small window near the ceiling. Christann's life flashed
before her eyes, and intense panic surged through her body. She emitted a
muffled yell, kicking and scratching with all of her remaining energy, trying
desperately to free herself. The man was saying something in her ear, but she
didn't care. Tears of fear streamed down her face and she bit down hard on the
hand that was over her mouth. It sprang away instantly, and Christann screamed
with all of her might. The man was yelling too, and trying to control her
thrashing about.

"Relax- hey, relax! I'm not gonna hurt you- OOF!"

The oof was emitted as she jammed her elbow as hard into his gut as was
possible and the arm around her waist loosened. She threw herself forward and
was free. Christann whirled around to face him, stunned for a moment to see
that it was the man from the restaurant. One hand was raised up in the air in
a gesture of surrender, while the other was holding up a badge. "FB- FBI," he
said breathlessly. "I'm not going to hurt you. For crissake, calm down."

Christann heard the tires squealing and knew that it wouldn't be long before
the men found her. She stared at him and he read her mind. "Come on," he said,
and ran into the darkness that enveloped the abandoned warehouse. She followed
him blindly, stumbling and fighting the wave after wave of sick panic that was
rising up into her throat. Finally he threw another door open and she saw that
she was back on a main street, near the restaurant. Police cars were
everywhere, and people were swarming about. She breathed a sigh of relief.
They didn't find her- yet. They wouldn't try to do anything with all the
people around. But that didn't mean they wouldn't be back. She let out a
shuddery sigh and turned to her savior. "Thanks."

He regarded her quizzically, and his hazel eyes struck her. Those eyes- they
reminded her of someone...

"Do you mind telling me what the hell is going on?"

Christann shot a look at him. "No offense, but I don't know if I can trust
you."

He unveiled a nearly unperceptible smile. "I'm a G-man- one of the good guys."

"Trust no one," Christann threw over her shoulder as she disappeared into the
crowd.

Fox Mulder stared after her and shook his head, incredulous.

* * * * * 

10:31 p.m.

For some strange reason, all of the things that Mulder heard as he entered his
apartment seemed amplified ten times louder than normal.
	
Clank. He threw down his keys.
	
Click. He shut the door behind him.
	
Blurb, blurb. The air bubbles in the fish tank.
	
He shook his head and tried to clear his thoughts. What was going on?
	
When he had seen the hog enter the restaurant, his initial reaction was the
fleeting rage and anger, as he had reached for his gun. Never in his life had
he been so stunned as when the shapeshifter whipped out a gun as well and
fired, not at him, but at a tall, thin waitress that had been serving a nearby
table. The girl had acted as if she knew that they had come for her, and took
off as if her life depended on it.
	
Even if the hog had noticed that Mulder was there, he hadn't given him a
second glance.
	
Coincidence?
	
He shook his head, not knowing whether or not he was involved in this whole
thing or not. He had jumped up and ran out the restaurant after her, calling
911 on the way for the three customers that the hog had shot. He knew very
well that if the men in black were chasing this girl to such a great extent,
they would kill her. Mulder knew that from experience. The girl didn't have
much of a chance.
	
His mind replayed the shock that he had lived when she had turned around and
he got his first real good look at her. The first thought was disdain- his
hand was sore and scratched up, and she had jammed her elbow into his side
just hard enough to know the wind out of him. She had been going purely on
adrenaline, and it sure made her strong.
	
She had hurtled out of his grasp and whirled around, and his heart had
thudded, his brain clicking into a sickening deja vu mode. She was tall and
had short, dark, unruly brown hair. But her eyes- they were the exact hazel
shade of-
	
He shook his head again, hard. Ridiculous, he reprimanded himself. Don't jump
to conclusions.
	
At least the girl knew a lot about the game they were in. She knew well enough
to trust no one, not even a G-man. He wished that he had at least gotten her
name, so he could check her out with the gunmen. He would go back to the
restaurant and find out her name first thing in the morning.
	
Beep. His thoughts were shattered as he pressed Play on his blinking answering
machine.
	
"Mulder? It's me." Scully's voice floated into the room. Her tone was calm and
regulated, but slightly high pitched. Mulder could tell she was upset. He knew
why. "Where are you? Langley just called me and said he went to Talia's
Restaurant, but there were police and-" she stuttered, only for a second, "and
I saw on the news that someone of your description supposedly jumped up and
ran after the gunmen..." She paused. "That's a bit risky, Mulder even for a G-
man." He smiled. "Anyway, uh, call me when you get back. I need to know that
you're okay." She paused, as if she expected him to pick up at that second,
then there was the click that confirmed that she had hung up. He rubbed his
eyes and picked up the phone.
	
"Scully."
	
"Hey, it's me."
	
"Mulder, where are you?" she asked sharply.
	
"I'm okay- I'm at home."
	
There was silence on the other end, but he thought that he could hear her
exhale deeply. "What happened."
	
"I was at Talia's waiting for Langley, and this waitress picked me up-" he
paused, but the stony silence told him that it wasn't the right time for
Mulderisms. "I was waiting for Langley and-" he took a deep breath, "Scully,
the bounty hunter came in."
	
He could almost feel the cold pit that settled in her stomach at his words.
"You're kidding."
	
"I wish I was."
	
"What happened?"
	
"They didn't even look at me, Scully," he closed his eyes and wearily rested
his head on his palm. "They pulled a gun and took off after one of the
waitresses, and shot three people on the way. I went through the old warehouse
on Carter Avenue, and caught her from the other side. I took her back to the
main road and she was gone. I didn't even get her name." He suddenly felt the
incredible urge to laugh. "And she profoundly told me to trust no one."
	
"Hmm, a graduate of the conspiracy universe." His mouth twitched slightly.
"Her name is Christann Dramel or Drumel or something like that. They had her
picture on the news. She never came back to the scene. Neither did the
gunmen." She paused. "No one could give a description of the offenders,
though. Besides the fact that they were dressed in black."	
	
"If they DID give a description, they would have arrested either Homer
Simpson's evil twin or Arnold Schwarzeneggar by now," Mulder deadpanned.
Suddenly he remembered. "Scully, did you see the doctor tod-"
	
"Yes," she interjected.
	
"And..." his voice trailed off.
	
She cleared her throat. "Well, I- he said-" she cleared her throat again. "Not
good." His heart constricted. "Well, it hasn't dramatically gotten WORSE, but
it isn't getting any better." She paused again and gave a short laugh. "I
guess I shouldn't have gotten my hopes up."
	
Silence stretched between them. There was a saying that you really didn't love
a person unless you could hold a comfortable silence with them for at least
twenty minutes. Been there, done that. Mulder could almost feel the energy
buzzing through the telephone line. Her fears, his fears. He bit his lip.
Don't give up hope. Please, God, don't let her give up hope. 
	
There was a rustle at the other end. "So, what are we gonna do about this
bounty hunter thing?"
	
"I'm going to try to find her. Maybe I can find out why they were after her.
She must have ticked off the higher ups enough that they didn't even care that
I was there."
	
"Thank God for that," she said in a low voice. "All of those that were shot
are dead."
	
Mulder swallowed. "I'll see you tomorrow."
	
"Mmm-hmm. I'll find out what else I can about this Christann person. You
should try to get some rest. You sound beat."
	
"I confess, Scully: Christann kicked my ass."
	
She laughed again. "It's not THAT hard, Mulder," she teased. "Goodnight."
Click. He stared at the phone for a moment, then dialed another number.
	
"Gunmen."
	
"Turn off the machine."
	
"It's off."
	
"TURN IT OFF, BYERS!"

* * * * *

May 19
J. Edgar Hoover Building
8:09 a.m.

Scully sighed as she shifted through the piled of paper on Mulder's desk. Less
then twelve hours had passed since their phone conversation, and already
Mulder had pulled up every available scrap of information on Christann Drumel
there was. She frowned as she studied the report:
	
Christann Susan Drumel, seventeen. Abandoned when she was four years old,
found in Michigan. In and out of hospitals, treated for epilepsy and lapses of
memory loss. As a child the doctors thought she had a case of "multiple
personalities", though it turned out that she was simply suffering from
posttraumatic stress. The final conclusion was her parents had been abusive.
Several futile attempts had been made to locate her parents, but they were
soon abandoned as no leads turned up.
	
Scully studied a picture of Christann when she was found in Michigan. A tiny,
scrawny little girl with dark brown hair a pouty lower lip and huge hazel
eyes. Those eyes- they reminded her almost of- She found herself involuntarily
glancing at the picture of a little girl that sat on Mulder's desk. Sighing,
she turned the page.
	
Christann had been in and out of foster homes until she was sixteen, when
suddenly she ran away. A list of where she turned up was provided only by the
MUFON group, to which Christann seemed to be an active member, and hospitals,
as she had epileptic seizures and frequently. New York. Chicago. San Diego.
Washington. Scully shook her head. It seemed that Christann had spent most of
her life on the run.
	
On the run from what? 
	
Mulder walked into the office, and looked at her, surprised. "Hey."
	
She indicated all of the papers on the desk. "I tell you to get some sleep and
you dig up this girl's biography after seeing her for only two minutes and not
even getting her name."
	
"I have connections."
	
She was taken aback. "You can't tell me that the Gunmen had stuff on her."
	
He smiled. "The Gunmen have stuff on everything, Scully. In fact, they've
heard of her before. She's a member of the MUFON group."
	
"So I've read."
	
"Yep." Mulder slipped on his glasses (Ed's note: MEGA SIGH!) and sat down at
his desk, sorting papers. "Right up our alley." He shot her a quick look.
	
It only registered later that he said "our" instead of "my."

* * * * *

9:49 a.m.
Downtown Washington

Christann opened one eye and willed the sun to go away. She didn't want to
wake up- wait. Where the hell was she?

She sat up groggily and looked around. She had been sleeping on Joel's couch.
She stifled a groan as her head began to pound. She winced. Then she
remembered. She had had a seizure...

The door opened tentatively and Joel peeked in. She relaxed slightly at the
sight of him. He was very tall and well built, with sandy hair and brooding
eyes. He stopped when he saw she was awake. "Hey."
	
"Hey yourself, Joel."
	
He walked into the room slowly, jamming his hands into his pockets. "How are
you feeling?" he asked softly.
	
She closed her eyes and leaned back. "My head hurts."
	
He nodded, his eyes steadily leading a flow of questions at her. "You had a
seizure."
	
"I remember that... I think...."
	
He sat down gingerly on the edge of the couch, as if he was afraid she would
snap in two. "What do you remember?"
	
Her brow furrowed in concentration. Suddenly she remembered. The men... in the
restaurant...
	
"I was in the restaurant and some men came in with guns. They started shooting
and I ran, and-" She stopped. She didn't want to tell Joel about the FBI agent
that had saved her skin. "I don't remember much else." Her eyes lit up. "I
took the bus here."
	
He nodded slowly. "You were pretty shaken up. I had seen what had happened at
Talia's on the news. I wanted to call the police, but you wouldn't let me.
Then-" he stopped. "You had a lapse, Chris."
	
She sighed. "What did I say this time?"
	
"You started yelling about your mother. You said they were taking them from
you. And they did something-" he winced, and she felt sorry for putting him
through this. "Something that hurt you."
	
She sighed deeply. "I don't remember, Joel. I'm sorry."
	
"You had a seizure. You-" he looked away quickly, "had left some of the
medication here, so I gave it to you, and it subsided and you fell asleep
right away." He stopped, and suddenly seemed very nervous. "Christy," he was
the only one that called her that. She had loved him for it. "The lapse- maybe
you ought to see the doctor again-"
	
She squeezed her eyes shut, and he fell silent. "Joel, I'm not crazy. Please
don't do this to me."
	
He stared at her helplessly. "I didn't say-"
	
"Please, we don't have to go through this again," she interrupted, her voice
barely a whisper. She opened her eyes. Joel stared at her blindly. He was
trying to help, she knew. But she needed someone that believed her. Someone.
She was the only one- the only one who was starting to regain stolen memories.
She closed her eyes again.
	
Joel stood, mumbled something about coffee, and went into the next room.
Christann sighed. Why, why had she some here? She knew. She had no where else
to go, no one else to trust. Even Joel though she was crazy. It was
inevitable. In the end, that was what had torn them apart. She was alone
again. Alone when she started to remember. Alone when the ones that wanted to
forget had come. She felt a tear slide down her face, and her voice came out
in a retched whisper to her ears  
	
 "I'm remembering things. I didn't make them up. They're not my imagination." 
	
And they were the reasons for her terror. But they would not take them from
her again. The only way to do that was to kill her. That wouldn't happen. She
wanted to know what had they had done. She wanted to know the fate of the
others. Her mother. 
	
And she wanted to know why.

* * * * * 

1:15 p.m.

Scully was relatively silent on the way to Christann's residence. She was
sitting straight in the seat, staring out of the window, her brow nearly
imperceptibly furrowed in thought. She seemed to be very far away. Mulder
wondered what she was thinking about.
	
The cancer?
	
He hoped not.
	
Suddenly she spoke. "Mulder, under what jurisdiction to you file this case?"
	
He didn't look at her. "I didn't come up with that yet." Hoo boy. He kept his
eyes focused on the road. 
	
Scully sighed deeply. "Skinner's gonna want to know why we're doing this."
	
"A suspect from an earlier case re-surfaced."
	
A wave of chill passed over her when she thought of the bounty hunter. He was
the shapeshifter that had taken Mulder's form and kidnapped her. Her mind
replayed the scene as if it had happened only yesterday. Put your hands
against the wall...  She remembered the Mulder-like look of surprise, pain,
and confusion when she said that. Scully, it's me... only moments before
whirling around and hitting her with enough force to send her flying through
the room.
	
She remembered sitting in the car, with the bounty hunter in the back, while
she fumed that he had ditched her again, praying at the same time that he was
okay. She remembered silently willing him not to disclose his location over
the phone, trying to ignore the knife that he held up to her throat. God. She
shuddered. She wanted to catch that sonofabitch. For what he did to her... and
to Mulder, making him relive the pain of losing his sister for the second
time. She glanced at him quickly, and with a sickening remembrance could
almost see the bruises that had lined his face when he had encountered the
bounty hunter in Antarctica. As a result, he had come this close to dying of
hypothermia... A heat of fury went pulsing through her body at that. For what
he did to Mulder...
	
"Here we are." The car pulled up to a ratty apartment building. A girl of
about sixteen was standing outside, a cigarette hanging out of her mouth, a
baby on her hip. She regarded them with bloodshot eyes that had seen their
owner shoot up on too much heroin. The agents climbed out of the car and
approached her. "Does Christann Drumel live here?" Mulder queried.
	
The girl stared at him. "Yeah."
	
"Do you know her?" Scully asked.
	
The girl focused her blurred gaze on her, stared at her as if pondering the
question, and finally shook her head slowly. Mulder and Scully exchanged a
look and entered the building. They made their way up to apartment 24, and
found the door was slightly ajar.
	
Mulder pulled out his gun, and glanced at Scully, who had done the same. Their
gaze locked for an instant and she nodded. Mulder quickly shoved the door open
and she burst inside. 
	
The place was trashed. The phone was off the hook and clothes and papers were
everywhere. The main thing of value that was there was a computer, whose
monitor had methodically been smashed. After making sure no one was in the
apartment, the agents surveyed the damage and began to look around. 
	
"It sure as hell looks like someone broke in here," Mulder said in a low
voice. Scully nodded slowly, and noticed a small framed picture that had been
overturned. She picked it up. The glass was cracked, but she could still make
out Christann with her arms around a tall, sandy haired man of about nineteen.
"Mulder." He walked over to her. "He might know where she is." 
	
"Excuuuuusseee me!" a voice snapped. The agents turned. "What in the shee-it
is goin' on here?" A woman was standing there, her hands crossed across her
chest, glaring at them, radiating a lot of attitude. 
	
Scully took out her badge. "Agents Mulder and Scully, FBI."
	
The woman's eyes widened. "FBI? Shee-it. Just like on TV!"
	
Mulder stepped in. "We're looking for Christann Drumel. Are you the super
here?"
	
"You bet yer white ass I am."
	
Scully cleared her throat. "When was the last time you saw Christann?"
	
The woman stuck out her lower lip in a pouty expression. "She didn't never
hang round here often, till recently. Folks said she was a bit losin' it, ya
know?"
	
Mulder frowned. "How so?"
	
"Shee-it, people said she was some UFO freak or something. Once she went
freakin' nuts, screaming about some people doin' somethin' to her	
and yellin about her momma. But her man was here wither, and he took her to
the hospital. And this once, she was downstairs, and she started to kinda
shake, you know? And I the ambulance came. She ain't been here long, but
Christ..." the woman shrugged. "I dunno. I ain't sayin' NUTHIN'."
	
Scully showed the woman the picture. "Is this the man you said she was with?"
	
The woman nodded. "Yep. His name was Joel. Joel Resin. Honey, was my little
girl crazy bout him! I tell ya, I don't know why a looker like him would wanna
stay with a nutcase like her... I've had nuff trouble, though. Wuzzit true,
what they said on the TV? Was they lookin' for her from that restaurant? Cause
some men came and they bust they door down yesterday, said they wuz comin' to
get Christann." She surveyed the room. "Shee-it. They done this place in,
didn't they?"
	
Scully took out a notepad. "The men that came yesterday. What did they look
like?"
	
The woman frowned. "I tell you, girl, that I duwnno? Christ, it must be the
booze... But I'm kickin' out this Chris girl when she gets back. I got
annufothis."  She walked to the door. "If ya need help, I'll be downstairs.
Jeest you ask for Rindy Carter. They all know me." Rindy swaggered out of the
apartment. 
	
Mulder squelched an annoyed sigh and turned back to searching the apartment.
Scully watched him. "So, Mulder, what's you theo-"
	
She stopped when he frantically started waving his hand. "What?"
	
Mulder stood slowly and straightened. He took her arm and led her over to
where he was looking, and pointed to the edge of the floor, where it met the
wall. A bit of the carpet had been torn up, revealing a tiny black object. Her
heart thudded as she stared back at him. His face was stony. A bug.
	
Shit.
	
Scully straightened. "Mulder," she said in a low voice, "I think we better go.
There' s nothing more to find here."
	
He nodded, the questions in his eyes mirroring her own. But one thing was
certain. They needed to find Christann.
	
Soon.

* * * * * 
	
A man sat alone in a dark room, watching the smoke swirl around in the air,
pressing the earphone to his ear. They had found the bug probably. Oh well. It
didn't matter. Christann was long gone for now. But they would get her this
time. The second she surfaced. It wouldn't be that hard. And they would find
her before Mulder and Scully.
	
He inhaled deeply, savoring the smoke that was filling his lungs. Was it
killing him slowly, he wondered? He inhaled again. It didn't matter. His life
didn't make a difference to the outside. There were barely any people in the
world that even knew he existed. And if it wasn't for this Christann girl, he
wouldn't have to worry about anyone revealing his work.
	
There was always Mulder and Scully, of course. They had come close before, too
close. But in the end they were always left with nothing. No proof. No
evidence. No witnesses. No one to trust. No one who remembered.
	
Until now.
	
The Cancer Man leaned back in his chair, eyes, slightly unfocused, blindly
staring into the ceiling, musing. They would get rid of Christann. They had
to. Just because of a mistake. One damn mistake. They had tried to scare her,
to threaten her. That didn't work. They had tried to take her again, to bury
her memories one more time. She always escaped. The last time they had tried
was yesterday, wakening the interest of Fox Mulder in the process. 
	
There was nothing else to do. 
	
They had to kill her before she remembered too much.
	
And if the agents came too close, he had no choice but to kill them, too. He
could've already done so a million times. Scully already was wasting away. The
Cancer Man knew that she would, without a doubt, take Mulder with her.
	
Kill two birds with one stone.
	
The phone jangled. He picked up the receiver, and inhaled deeply. "Hello."
	
"Did they find anything?"
	
The Cancer Man stuck the cigarette butt in an ashtray, and pulled a packet of
Morley's out of his pocket. "Nothing of extreme significance. They don't know
where she is, either. There's nothing to worry about."
	
"Some of us are getting paranoid."
	
Cancer Man smiled. "There's no need for worry," he repeated.
	
"Davis is taking this very seriously. Him and Williamson. They'll be the first
one's to go down if this comes out."
	
"They are the only one's that the people know exist."
	
"I wish they had your confidence."
	
"They haven't watched presidents die." Cancer Man lit another cigarette. 
	
"Can we use Marita?"
	
"He doesn't trust Marita anymore. He doesn't trust anyone but his partner
right now. I'm afraid, my friend, that the only thing to do is get rid of the
girl before they get too close. Work from the outside."
	
"And they won't be suspicious?"
	
"It will just be the end of another life, my friend. A life that people knew
of as a nutcase." Cancer Man flicked some ash off the table. "Just another Max
Fennig."
	
Just another Max Fennig...


--------
3:29 p.m

"Two diet cokes, please." The girl behind the counter looked up. "We're out of
diet coke."
	
Scully sighed. "Ice tea then," she said, and felt herself blush inwardly.
Wishful thinking, she thought, thinking back to the Tooms case, wondering for
a brief moment what would have transpired had she followed instinct and
brought ice tea on the stakeout... STOP IT!!!!!
	
She handed the girl the money, and reached for the drinks. As she did, a drop
of crimson fell on the counter. Scully stared at it and slowly she felt the
world whirl around her. 
	
"Ma'am, are you okay?" the girl asked.
	
Scully nodded quickly and shoved the drinks at Mulder, who had just come out
of the bathroom. He surprise melted into realization. "Scully-"	
	
She ignored him and hurried into the bathroom, heart pounding. She yanked at
the faucet and splashed water on her face. Trying hard to calm down. She
gripped the sides of the sink and breathed deeply. Her slight headache seemed
to escalate, pounding, reminding her of its presence, taunting, teasing. Fear
clenched her heart. She swallowed and stared at her pale face in the mirror.
	
The face of a dying woman. She squeezed her eyes shut. God, she didn't want to
let go of life. Her work. Her mother and family.
	
Mulder.
	
She fought back the frightened tears and willed her heart to stop pounding.
She was trembling, terrified.
	
You've had these nosebleeds before.
	
And each time she could feel her strength and her hope slipping away...
	
She buried her face in her hands and leaned down, allowing several more
frightened tears to escape before regaining her composure. Shoving her
thoughts as far into herself as possible, she walked out of the bathroom,
ignoring Mulder's gaze. 
* * * * * 

	
Dammit, why won't she TALK to me???
	
Mulder shot his partner another sidelong gaze. She was once again silently
staring out the window, only this time her eyes were slightly red, and her
lower lip was trembling, no matter how hard she tried to hide it. He wanted to
pull over and kiss her and pour out his fears. And he wished that she would so
the same. He couldn't stand her keeping all of her worries within herself,
torturing and tormenting. He wanted her to tell him what her fears were.
	
She had tried, once, and he had been too overwhelmed to let her go on. The
truth was, he was scared shitless of Dana Scully telling him she was giving up
hope. At times like these she was his crutch, giving him lifesaving support.
When she told him about the ghost, he had been angry; angry that she had to go
around wondering if she would wake up the next day, angry at himself for not
being able to do anything about it, and angry at those bastards that had done
this to her in the first place. He knew that his words had hurt her. He had
tried to express his feelings without collapsing. I know what you're afraid
of. I'm afraid of the same thing. 
	
But now he saw that she was terrified. Maybe it was time for him to play the
supporter. God knows he owed it to her.
	
If only she would SAY something...
	
"You missed the turn, Mulder."
	
His heart thudded at the sound of her voice, low and still a bit shaky. "Hmm?"
	
"The turn. You should've gone left down there."
	
"Oh. Yeah." Mulder swallowed and did a U-turn. "Sorry."
	
She frowned. "Are you okay?"
	
Dammit, she was going to end up the supporter again. Christ, he was a selfish
bastard. "I'm fine, Scully."
	
"Isn't that usually MY line?" Mulder smiled, feeling the tension between them
relieved. 
	
They had spent what seemed like hours on the phone trying to get an address
for Joel Resin. It seemed to be just their luck that he lived on the other
side of the city. Scully craned her neck and scanned the numbers of the
buildings. "Over there."
	
Mulder parked and the agents got out of the car. They walked to the front door
and pressed Resin on the intercom. Nobody answered.
	
"What now?" asked Scully. They didn't have the authority to go into Joel
Resin's apartment without a reason. And they wanted to find Christann Drumel,
not search the place. 
	
Mulder gestured back to the car. "We wait."

* * * * * 

5:16 p.m

	
Scully fidgeted. This was taking forever. Where was Joel? In all probability,
he might know about as much about Christann's location as they did. She
glanced at Mulder. Was it really the re-appearance of the bounty hunter that
had drawn him to this case? Or was it Christann Drumel? An epileptic, with a
mysterious childhood; a nomad that didn't stay in one place for very long, a
UFO freak that people labelled a "nutcase." A female version of Max Fennig,
she mused. 
	
Mulder sighed and looked at her. She caught his eye for a brief moment, and
she remembered that she had thought that Christann looked a lot like Mulder-
at least the eyes. Did he-
	
"Mulder," she said suddenly her low voice breaking the shimmering glass of
silence, "do you think that this has anything to do with Samantha?"
	
He was taken aback. "Why do you say that?"
	
She blushed. "The pictures- she looked sort of like Samantha... I'm sorry.
She's too young to be Samantha. Never mind."
	
Mulder stared at her. "Do you believe that we'll find Samantha someday,
Scully?" he asked softly, searching her face for reaction.
	
Something stirred in her heart. The "we" again. God, it was torturing her,
sitting next to him in this Buick and not being able to say what she really
wanted to. Dark thoughts flitted unbidden into her mind and the demons
resurfaced.
	
"Do you think we'll find a cure for my cancer, Mulder?" Something flickered in
is eyes, and she felt a stab of guilt. What was wrong with her? She closed her
eyes and turned to face him. "Yes, Mulder. I do believe that we'll find
Samantha someday." She paused and stared out the window. "I'm sure of it."
	
Before he could reply, she noticed a tall dark haired girl enter the apartment
building. She was hurrying along, hunched forward, her eyes darting around
nervously. Scully squinted. "Is that her?"
	
Mulder nodded slowly. "Yeah. Let's go."
	
They hurried from the car and flashed their badges at another woman entering
the building, who let them in without question. They hurried up to apartment
4b and knocked on the door. It opened almost immediately. "Jo-" she stopped.
Christann Drumel's frightened face stared at them.
* * * * * 

	
Christann stared at them, not believing what she was seeing. She recognized
that man immediately. It was the one that saved her. Oh God, FBI. She had just
gone and bought a plane ticket under a fake name. A plane ticket to Allentown,
Pennsylvania. She needed to see Penny. Penny would know how to help her.  She
needed to get away.
	
The man held up his badge, his eyes searching her face. "Fox Mulder and Dana
Scully, FBI."
	
She swallowed. "What do you want?"
	
The woman spoke up. "We wanted to ask you a couple questions, Christann."
	
Christann bit her lip. Fox Mulder. FM Luder from Omni. And Dana Scully. She
had heard a lot about her from Penny Northern. Oh, God. They needed to go
away. They would be killed... "Please, I don't have anything to say."
	
Mulder swiftly stepped forward, forcing the door open and inch. "Miss Drumel.
this is important. Just for a minute."
	
Christann stared at them, then stepped away from the door. I won't tell them
anything, she thought. But I need to know what happened to Penny. "Agent- uh,
Scully?" she asked as she closed the door behind them. "Agent Scully, do you
know Penny Northern?"
	
Mulder's heart thudded and he saw a tiny flicker of pain in his partner's
eyes. "Yes."
	
Christann tried hard to cover her relief. "Oh, where is she? I've been trying
to contact her... I can't seem to get hold of the MUFON group ever since I
came to D.C. no one at NICAP is helping me, and I really need to speak with
Penny-"
	
"She's dead." Scully cut in icily.
	
Christann's face drained of color. Her knees wobbled. That's it, she thought.
I'm done for. There's no one else. It was time to give up. That's was she had
promised herself. Penny was the last one. She sank down onto Joel's couch. "Oh
my God," she whispered, her voice tremulous and terrified. "How, when?"
	
Scully felt Mulder's hand on the small of her back, strong and reassuring.
"Cancer, a couple of months ago," he said. "Miss Drumel, we came here to talk
to you about the incident at the restaurant yesterday."
	
Christann looked up. "About what?"
	
Scully sat down, flashing a quick thank-you look at Mulder. "The men that came
into the restaurant- did you recognize them?"
	
Christann nodded slowly. "Why do you think I ran?"
	
"Have they come after you before?"
	
She nodded again.
	
Mulder was staring at Christann for a long time. "Was it because of something
you know, Christann? Something about what they did to you?"
	
Her gaze shot up, matching his identical hazel gaze with hers. Fiery, firm.
"Yes."
	
He didn't drop his eyes. "What do you know, Christann?"
	
Christann leaned back, and looked at the both of them. "Agent Mulder," she
said softly, "I told you before- I trust no one. They want to kill me, and
they'll kill you if I tell you anything."
	
"Miss Drumel," he said quietly, "I believe that they do something to people.
We have spent the past four years looking for answers. I NEED to KNOW whatever
you do."
	
Scully spoke. "Your records, Christann. People say that you have lapses in
which you say that your afraid, that "they" took something or something from
you."
	
Christann glared at her feircely. "And they say I'm crazy. Even Joel says I'm
crazy. Because of the things I've started to remember. They want to lock me
up. And the men in black wanted to erase it again. When I wouldn't let them,
now they want to kill me." She paused. "Now Penny's gone too. No one's left."
She stared at Mulder. "This way I have a chance. If I tell anyone, then I'm
gone. They'll kill me practically before the words leave my mouth."
	
Mulder leaned forward, eyes animated. "Do you remember experiments,
Christann?" Scully placed a warning hand on his shoulder. Christann eyes were
deadly. "What did they do to you? To your-" he paused, and went out on a limb,
"-mothers?" Scully shot him one of her "where in the world did that come
from?" look, then glanced back at the girl.
	
Christann's lips parted slightly. She stood up. "Go away," she hissed, her
voice shaking. Scully knew he had struck a nerve.
	
"They're going to kill you, Christann, unless you bring what you know to
light," Mulder pressed, agitated.
	
"Do you think that I can just go out and tell the world?" she stared at him.
"Just another nutcase, no proof, no nothing. NOTHING. They'd eat me alive."
She stepped towards them. "Do you think that I ASKED for the memories to come
back? The memories that sealed my fate? I want to know what happened to the
others. I do. But there's no one else. Penny is gone now. I don't know if even
she totally believed me. I don't want to give up my life for something I don't
even know I can prove. All I can do now is leave it."
	
Mulder tried hard to squelch his anger. "That's it? You, Christann, can
remember the Truth in an instant; the Truth that so many people have been
working towards their entire lives, and you are willing to just WALK AWAY?"
	
Christann nodded. "I'm sorry," she said simply. "I've tried to find ways to do
this. I can't. Agent Mulder," she shook her head, "don't put your life in
danger for this."
	
Mulder could feel the slow boil of anger and frustration building up inside of
him. "I already have," he said, "and so has my partner. We've given up our
lives for this. You can't just leave it as it is."
	
Christann's face twitched. "I'm sorry," she said again. She walked to the door
and unlocked it, waiting. The agents stood. Mulder angrily tossed his card on
the table and walked out. Scully followed him numbly, her mind in turmoil.
They walked to the car, and neither said a word. 
	
Inside the apartment, Christann closed her eyes and tried hard to calm her
quaking heart, and to stop the tears from rolling down her face. "I'm sorry...
I'm sorry..."
* * * * * 

6:07 p.m.

	
Mulder gripped the steering wheel angrily and glared ahead of him. He was
furious. His eyes stared at the road ahead, squinting. His whole countenance
was shooting a warning to the other commuters. Warning: I am a very pissed off
man with a gun. Don't mess with me. His jaw clenched and unclenched as he
gritted his teeth in an attempt to keep his rage inside of himself.
	
Damn that Christann. How could she? How DARE she? Did she have any idea the
HELL that he and Scully had been through to try to find out what Christann
knew? What she knew could save Scully's life. It could save the lives of God
knows who else. It would save his. He didn't want to die wondering if he had
wasted his life. 
	
Christann had the fire in her to bring the truth out. But she was too damned
selfish. Too damned selfish to go out on one of the countless limbs and Scully
and himself had been on. Christann was too afraid she'd break a nail in the
process.	 
	
Scully watched Mulder, recognizing the stony, angry look on his face. She knew
what he was feeling. A sickening sense of loss settled over her. Penny had
clearly been that girl's last hope. It maddened her that there was someone out
there that knew the answers and refused to bring it to light.
	
The car next to them shot forward and manically tried to change lanes under
their nose. The car swerved. Mulder slammed on the brakes. "DAMMIT!" he
yelled, the car screeching to a halt, just inches away from the other one.
The man in the car gave the agents a not-so-kind hand gesture. Car horns
behind them blared. Mulder muttered something inaudible and jerked the wheel
to the right. The car lurched forward. The car next to them did the same.
Mulder hit the brakes again in order to avoid hitting him. Scully sighed. This
was going to be a LONG ride. 

* * * * * 

11:21 p.m.

	
"It's okay dear, it's almost over..." Christann could clearly hear her voice.
She gripped the ragged teddy bear by her side and nodded. She squeezed her
eyes shut. God it hurt. Why were they hurting her? She wanted to make them
stop. She started to cry.
	
Someone spoke harshly to her. A man. He wasn't speaking in English. She heard
footsteps, and the rancid odor of cigarettes. More conversation. She tried
hard to stop crying. Annie put her hand on Christann's forehead. She opened
her eyes. Annie looked tired. Annie was the youngest, besides Christann, who
was the product. 
	
Suddenly she was on another table. Bright lights shone in her eyes. Someone
loomed over her. His eyes where big and grey. She was scared. He didn't look
like a person. She started to cry. She wanted Annie. She wanted her teddy
bear. She wanted them to stop. 
	
She heard the sound of a drill. She cried harder. What were they doing? Annie,
what are they doing? Annie, make them stop. They're trying to take something
from me. 
	
She heard them arguing. Something was wrong, it wasn't working, the doctor
said. She smelled cigarettes again. The lights were flickering. The men were
arguing. She won't remember, they said, we can't, she's just a kid. It won't
work. The other was yelling also. She won't because she CAN'T, do you hear me!
Don't screw this up, he yelled again. We have to get rid of her. She can't
remember. I don't care if she's just a kid. Do it!
	
She was on a train. It was moving. She heard Annie yell. Don't she's just a
little girl. Please. Don't. She heard more yells, and Annie was gone.
Christann was scared. She was scared without Annie. 
	
The man was looming over her again. She started to yell. It hurt, it hurt, it
hurt.  What were they doing? Oh God make them stop!!! Who were they? What was
going on. She started to wail, and kicked her little legs with all her might.
Someone hit her. Shut up, he said, shut up. You're not even a real person. No
one cares. Shut up.
	
Make them stop make them stop... Annie... 
	
The scene tore away and Christann stared at the dark ceiling above her. A
dream. Just a dream, she told herself. She was remembering more. Before, she
would have a lapse, but wouldn't remember what they were about. Now she the
dreams were taking shape. And she DID remember. She took several deep breaths
and tried to calm down.
	 
Joel had been the regular gentleman he was by insisting she take the bed. God,
this was awkward. She had loved him so much... and she thought he did too, but
then everything just fell apart. And here she was again, but for a totally
different reason. 
	
She sat up and turned on the bedside lamp. A tiny bag was there next to her,
neatly packed. She had her plane ticket tucked away neatly inside. A ticket to
Kansas. Under the name Susanna Ewing. She was going to start a whole new life
for herself.  If she sat quiet and kept her mouth shut, maybe they'd leave her
alone. 
	
The confrontation with the FBI had unnerved her, though. They made her feel
like a selfish brat. Maybe she was. But she was a terrified selfish brat.
Flashes of the dream came back into her mind, and her heart thudded. She
needed some coffee. She didn't want to fall asleep again. She didn't want
another dream. 
	
She stood and went softly into the kitchen. She peered into the cabinets. No
more coffee. She shivered. There was a shop downstairs. She'd just go and get
some. 
	
She pulled on a jacket and shoes, careful not to wake Joel, who was sound
asleep on the couch, and left the apartment.

* * * * * 

11:56 p.m.

	
The men made their way quietly into the building, and went up to apartment 4b.
One of them fiddled with the lock for less then ten seconds, and it opened
smoothly. They looked inside. It was dark. A man was sleeping on the couch. He
raised his head and squinted as they entered.
	
No time was lost. The largest man, whose face reminded one of a hog, pulled
out his gun. The surprise in the man's eyes barely registered before the
gunshot, muffled by the silencer, went off. 
	
The men hurried through the apartment, looking in every closet, under every
table. One found a plane ticket to Kansas, under the name Susanna Ewing. They
glanced at each other. The bounty hunter shook his head. She wasn't there.
Then something lying on the table caught his eye. In two strides he was there.
He picked it up.
	
A card.
	
Fox Mulder, FBI.
	
The man swore. He wiped the fingerprints off the gun and dropped it on the
floor. They hurried out of the room. 
	
Christann sipped the coffee as she was about to leave the shop. Something on
the other side of the street made her heart thud.
	
It was them.
	
She darted away from the window, praying they wouldn't see her. She heard the
black car drive away. That was when it registered.
	
Joel.
	
The coffee splattered to the floor, the Styrofoam container bouncing slightly.
Christann burst out of the shop and tore across the street. The main door was
still slightly ajar; she flung it open and took the stairs two at a time. 
	
Please God no please God no please God no...
	
She reached the apartment. The door was open. She darted inside. "Jo-"
	
He was dead. She knew that before she reached him. His eyes were wide open,
still blurry with sleep, but very surprised. The floor rocked around her, and
she started to shake. "Oh, God..."
	
The bastards. They killed him. The bastards. She would get them. How dare
they...
	
She blinked away the torrent of tears that threatened to pour out, and noticed
the card lying on the floor. As she snatched it up she could hear the sirens
in the distance.
	
And she ran.

* * * * * 

2:10 a.m.
May 20
Fox Mulder's apartment

	
Mulder stared at the meaningless images on his television screen. He wondered
if Scully was asleep and considered calling her. He needed to talk...
	
Yeah right. No one else is up at this time except deranged insomniacs.
	
Someone pounded on his front door. Okay, maybe not. Surprised, he got up and
opened the door.
	
Christann Drumel flew out at him, her hands covered in dried blood, shaking
all over. Sobbing, she fell into the apartment.

* * * * * 

	
Scully couldn't sleep. She considered watching TV, but decided against it. She
stared up at the ceiling, and considered calling Mulder. She needed to hear
his voice. She sighed and turned over, squeezed her eyes shut and tried to
sleep...
	
Brrriiiinnng.
	
Scully sat up and groggily picked up the phone. "Scully."
	
"Hey, it's me."

"Mulder?"
	
"Yeah... Stay there... I'm bringing someone..."

* * * * * 
3:26 a.m.

	
Scully stared helplessly at Christann, who was sitting on her couch with a
blanket wrapped around her, trembling violently. She sighed and turned to
speak to Mulder, startled that he was standing just a few inches away. "What
happened?" she asked.
	
"I'm not sure," Mulder said softly, the sound of his low voice sending shivers
down her spine. "She came running in here, sobbing something about Joel, and
saying 'they came.'" 
	
She stared at him intensely. "Who's they? The bounty hunter?"
	
He bit his lip and glanced at Christann. "I guess so."
	
Scully walked into the living room. Christann was sitting there, her arms
wrapped around herself as if she was freezing. Her teeth were chattering and a
rhythmic stream of tears rolled down her face, though no sob was emitted from
her throat. She looked up at Scully as she approached. Scully sat down next to
her and took her hand, shocked at how cold it was. "Christann," she said
softly, "do you remember what happened?"
	
Christann nodded violently, and her voice came out high pitched and shaky,
like a little girl. "I w-w-ent out t-to get some coffee... I had a bad- a bad
dream and wh-when I was walking back they were there and-" She shook her head,
and put her hands up to her head as if she had a terrible headache, "and Joel-
they took him from me- he was gone- they took him away from me..." She
stopped, stared down at the blood on her hands, and was silent, pressing her
lips together so hard they turned white. 
	
Scully looked at Mulder. "I think she should take a shower and go to sleep."
Mulder nodded slowly, his face unreadable.
	
Ten minutes later they could her the steady stream of water from the bathroom.
"Well?" said Scully in a low voice. 
	
"They killed him."
	
Scully sank on the couch and closed her eyes. "What now?"
	
"Why did she some here?"
	
Scully was rubbing her eyes. "I guess she had no where else to go. We should
take her down to the police department in the morning. If Joel WAS killed,
then she will probably be a suspect."
	
Mulder was gazing intently at her. "I think she changed her mind. I think
she's gonna talk. And if she is, we have to keep her as hidden from sight as
possible until he figure out what to do."
	
He waited for Scully's usual disagreement. Instead, he felt her eyes search
his face quizzically. "Yes," she said softly. "Yes, I think you're right."
	
Mulder stood and walked to the door. "I'm going back home to get some things.
Hope you don't mind that I'm planning to crash your place tonight."
	
She raised an eyebrow. "I'm a grown girl, Mulder. I own a gun and I know how
to use it. I don't need protection."
	
His eyes were amused, and his gaze intense. "Protection for ME," he replied
softly. Her lips curved upward slightly. He opened the door. "I'll be back."
	
Scully stared at the door as it closed behind him, her head feeling impossibly
light. She allowed herself a smile and heard the bathroom door open. Christann
came out. "Feeling better?" she asked. Christann nodded numbly, still
trembling a bit. "I think you better get some sleep." 
	
Christann lay down stiffly on the bed, pulling the sheets around her shivering
body. "Agent Scully?" she asked. Scully glanced at her. "Thank you."

* * * * * 

	
Davis was sitting in the kitchen, one hand lighting a cigarette, the other
holding it up to his lips. God, he hated the taste. But it calmed his jangling
nerves. 
	
A phone call had woken him about a half an hour earlier. He had been expecting
it. But he had expected to hear good news. News that that girl was gone. Taken
care of. And he wouldn't have to worry anymore. 
	
He was wrong.
	
Not only had she not been in the apartment, but they had found Fox Mulder's
card there. Fox Mulder. Shit. They had gotten to her first.
	
Davis' eyes wandered around the kitchen. They were steel gray and hard,
expressionless. The eyes of a man who could see a terrible accident on the
road and find it in his heart not to stop. To pretend that he didn't see. The
eyes of a man that had seen so much and done so many things, that he really
didn't care about anything.
	
Except himself, of course. Dammit, he had always been one of the heads of the
Project. But he had never had anything to do with the Drumel girl. It hadn't
been HIS mistake. But she could bring him and Williamson down. And the gray
man, as David thought of him, could walk away without a scratch.
	
Davis was braver than Williamson. Williamson was probably having a mental
breakdown by now. He better not do anything rash. Davis was afraid. He just
wouldn't show it. He was a selfish bastard.
	
Dammit, if he was going down he would take Williamson with him. He'd expose
the gray man if he had to. It hadn't been HIS mistake. His order to let the
Drumel girl go. She was one of the "rough drafts." They had been warned that
one day she might remember. But everyone had thought that she would have died
by then. That's what the doctors had estimated.
	
Yeah, thought Davis, shaking his head. They had given that Mrs. Spooky six
months. And she was still going strong. It was time to speed things up.

* * * * * 

4:09 a.m.

	
Mulder parked outside of his apartment building and got out of the car. As he
made his way up to apartment 42, he sensed that something was wrong. It was
quiet. Too quiet. He caught sight of his door and stopped. It was open a
crack. 
	
Mulder's gun appeared out of nowhere as he debated what to do. The smart thing
to do would be to get out of there. The bounty hunter-
	
The bounty hunter. All rational thoughts vanished from his mind when he
thought of that man. God, he hated him. He walked swiftly towards the door,
heart pounding, when it opened suddenly and he found himself face to face with
the bounty hunter. He loomed above him, his ugly face lighting up with
recognition. He raised his gun. Mulder fired, but hastily, and missed by a
wide margin. He ducked just as a flash came out of the bounty hunter's gun.
This was no time to play Superman. He turned and took off down the hallway. 
	
Someone slammed into him from behind, and the both of them went crashing to
the floor. There was a thud, and a sharp pain went shooting up his spine.
Whoever it was kicked him hard in the side. He doubled over and spun around,
wincing.
	
It wasn't the bounty hunter, but another of the men in black. He lunged at
Mulder again. He dodged to the right, and hit him in the back of the head.
	
One more gunshot confirmed that the other man hadn't disappeared. Wait a
minute. Christann said that there were three. That meant-
	
Oh, CRAP.
	
He hit the man squarely in the jaw and took no time in running down the
hallway again. Ow. Blood was trickling down his chin. He dodged around the
corner.
	
A door opened and a woman in a robe and hair rollers stepped out. "What in the
name of Jeeeeeesus is goin' on here?"
	
Ah, the convenience of having a badge on hand. He took it out. "FBI," and
quickly slipped inside the apartment, making his way to the fire escape. "Call
the police," he called over his shoulder.
	
Mulder clattered down the escape, wincing at every step. His eye was swollen.
He glanced around for his car. It was about 20 yards away. He would have to
run for it. As he ran, or rather, limped towards the car, more gunshots ran
out and he could make out the hulking shadow of the bounty hunter coming
towards him from the right. Mulder yanked the car door open, turned the key,
slammed his foot down on the accelerator, and, pulled out his cell phone all
at the same time. The car shot forward, tires squealing, and there was a ear-
shattering crash as the rear window behind him shattered. He could hear tires
squealing, and knew that they were right behind him. 
	
The two cars veered after each other through the streets. There was an
intersection right ahead of them. Mulder slammed on the brakes. His car did a
three hundred sixty degree turn, tired wailing in protest, and veered straight
for the black unmarked car that was following him. At the last possible second
he jerked the wheel to the right, so the cars collided on the sides. The
impact threw him backward, the airbag blowing up in his face, but the other
car was sent skidding into a lamp pole. The door open and the bounty hunter
stepped out, his hog face red with fury. Mulder saw him raise his gun and a
flash right before his front windshield disappeared from in front of him,
sending pieces of glass flying at him. He felt a twinging pain as one of them
hit him in the forehead. He floored the accelerator and the car swerved down
the road, as far away from the bounty hunters as he could possibly get, trying
hard to ignore the blood trickling down his forehead and his heart threatening
to tear out of his chest.

--------
4:25 a.m.

Scully fought to stay awake as she waited for Mulder to return. As much as she
hated to admit it, she didn't really feel safe with all of this going on, and
Mulder not here with her...
	
The phone rang, and she nearly jumped out of her skin. She snatched it up. 
	
"Scully."
	
"Scully...static static... -ou've g- static -out -f- ere."
	
She strained to hear him. "Mulder?! I can't hear you- you're breaking up- what
the hell happened?"
	
"You- et - out of there, n-- static... came af- r me."
	
"Mulder, I can't hear you..."
	
She could hear the screech of tires, and the static faded away. He must have
pulled over. "Listen to me, Scully, you've got to get out of there- they came
after me."
	
Her heart dropped to her stomach. "Are you okay?"
	
"I'm fine... static... get - of th-- ow, Scully." His voice was tense and
agitated. "Head f- New York... call me when y- are on -our wa- static,
static... Scully, did you hear me?"
	
"Yeah, I heard you, Mulder." Her mind was spinning. Suddenly from the window
she spotted headlights approaching... the phone dropped out of her hand.
	
"-Cully?! Sc- static..."
	
She darted into the bedroom and grabbed Christann's shoulder. "Christann! Wake
up! We've got to get of here." Christann regarded her groggily. "Get up!!!!"
She pulled her out of bed. Christann snapped to attention. She seemed to have
recovered from the shock. 
	
The headlights swept the room from the window, and Scully pulled her to the
floor. "Stay down." Her heart was thudding in her throat, loudly, resonantly.
	
"Are they coming after m-"
	
"Shh!"
	
She heard a car door slam, and her mind whirled. The window, they could get
out of the window next to the phone, the one that Duane Barry had-
	
Stop it, Dana. Stop it.
	
Motioning to Christann, they crawled towards the other room. She could hear
footsteps coming towards the door. Shit. Her gun. Where was her gun?
	
It was on the table next to the window.
	
There was a click as someone fiddled with the lock. 
	
Scully jumped to her feet and darted towards the gun. Her fingers closed
around the handle as she heard a slam, and the front door banged open.
	
There was a blast that echoed in her ears. She jumped to the side, firing,
feeling a stabbing pain in her shoulder. The figure doubled over.
	
Static and Mulder's frantic voice were still coming from the phone. She
grabbed it up, hit the off button and dialed 911, one hand pressing her
shoulder, the pain sending tears flooding into her eyes. It wasn't any use.
She knew the man - body (she didn't know if he was dead, and after the
encounter with the bounty hunter by the dock she wasn't going to check,
either) would be gone before they came. She dropped the phone, motioned to
Christann, and the two of them ducked out of the window. 
	
They ran for Scully's car, and ducked inside. Scully turned the key and
glanced at her shoulder. It was only grazed, but was bleeding anyway. She
yanked some tissues out of the glove compartment, pressed them to the wound,
and, teeth gritted, drove. This time she didn't even know when her nose
started to bleed.

* * * * * 
5:15 a.m.
	
Mulder was frantic with worry. She had hung up on him before. No one was
answering his cell phone. Dammit! He rested his head against the steering
wheel and fought to calm down. He had driven at 90 miles an hour, using his
badge to bypass traffic tickets, ignoring the quizzical looks of the officers
as they regarded his windshieldless car. Now he was waiting for her to call. 
	
Oh God, what if...
	
No! No what ifs. They were much too dangerous.
	
His cell phone trilled, and he snatched it up. "Dana?" he gasped,
involuntarily wincing when he realized he had let the first name slip out. 
	
There was silence. "This is Christann."
	
"Oh! Oh God, where are you? Is Scully there? Are you two okay?"
	
"Yeah- we're about a seventy miles from D.C.- we got away. Agent Scully is in
the car." She paused. "The man shot her, but she says she's o-"
	
Mulder leaned forward. "What? Shot? What happened? Is she okay?" Please please
please please please...
	
"We're at a pay phone.. she left her cell phone at the apartment... she's
saying that the bullet only grazed her. Her nose was bleeding for  a while,
but besides that, she seems to be okay..."
	
Mulder's stomach lurched. It was obvious that Scully wouldn't listen to him to
stay put even if he DID manage to get her on the phone. "Listen to me,
Christann." He gave her the address of a motel on the outskirts of New York
State. "I'll meet you there; room 2d. But if she seems to bad too drive, I
don't care WHAT she says, get out and call me; I'll be right there. Okay?"
	
"Yes, Agent Mulder. Oh- and she says to call her mother and let her know that
she's okay."
	
Mulder complied, and hung up. Poor Mrs. Scully. She probably must've seen
something on the news by now. He closed his eyes, remembering her face when
Duane Barry-
	
He shook his head hard. They were okay. Thank God. He started the car and
drove towards the motel as he dialed Mrs. Scully's number.

--------
9:08 a.m.
Starshine Motel
Outside New York

	
"This is it," murmered Scully through gritted teeth as her car finally pulled
up the gravelly driveway of the motel. She recognized Mulder's car in the lot
and felt relieved. The stinging pain in her shoulder had escalated, and now it
felt as if there was a tiny flame eating at her flesh. She had bought some
bandages and other things at the drugstore, but it was bleeding again. Thank
God it had only grazed the skin...
	
She stepped out of the car, wincing. "What room?"
	
"2d," Christann answered, regarding her with a concerned expression on her
face. Scully ignored her, tried to position her arm as if nothing was wrong.
They headed towards the room, Scully glancing over her shoulder as they did
so. She had backtracked about a gazillion times, making sure she wasn't being
followed, but still...
	
Scully knocked on the door. "Mulder? Mulder, it's me."
	
The door flew open immediatly and all thoughts of trying to act calm and
collected vanished when she saw his face. He looked like a torn-apart twelve
year old. He stared at her for a split second, then murmered, "Hurry."
	
Christann ducked in, and was followed by Scully. Mulder gave the door a light
shove; exactly as the door clicked shut, he turned her around, and gently
placed his arms around her. The burning feeling of tears in the back of her
eyes exceeded that of the wound; she hugged him back and pressed her face into
his shoulder, a light sob escaping from the back of her throat. Scully could
feel one hand stroking her hair and wished that she could hold on to the
moment, and knew that this was one of the brief times that nothing else
mattered at all... Neither said a word, they just stood there. Scully bit her
lip and swallowed. The same thought passed between the two of them: I almost
lost you...
	
How do you express the feeling of relief when you see your other half alive
and with you again?
	
Christann watched them and felt a pang of remorse and envy. She forced it away
and walked into the bathroom, closing the door softly behind her.

Not softly enough. The barely perceptible click brought Mulder back to the
present; to the case; to the truth; they had to go on. Even if it meant
moving. He took a deep sigh and gently moved back, pulling her away from him
reluctantly. He did allow himself moving his hands around her face and gazing
down at her for a second. Tears were streaking her cheeks and he wiped them
away gently with his thumbs. "Are you okay?"
	
She nodded. He noticed the patch of crimson staining her shoulder. "You're
bleeding- Christann said that you were shot-"
	
Her gaze met his. "It only grazed me," she said softly. "Christann brought
some bandages-"
	
"So I see." He picked up the small plastic bag, and she took off her jacket,
wincing at the shooting pain that seemed to have returned. She rolled up her
sleeve the whole way and cringed at the sight. The wound, though small, was
bleeding openly now, and the bandage that she had hurriedly applied didn't
seem to help at all. Mulder peeled it off gently and smiled at her. "You're
not squeamish about this kind of thing, are you?"
	
"I don't know; I've never had the pleasure," she replied easily. 
	
"I'll let you know when we get passed the easy part." He glanced at her
quickly, reminiscing about their first case in the 'plausible state of
Oregon.' Four years ago...
	
The bathroom door opened and Christann came out. "How are you feeling,
Christann?" Mulder asked, finishing putting the makeshift bandage on his
partner. Scully looked up at her, guilty that they had ignored her
	
"Strange," Christann replied softly. "What are we going to do?"
	
Mulder sat down on one of the two beds and passed his hand over his eyes.
"That's up to you. You're the one with the information."
	
Christann stared at him with a determined expression. "I loved Joel, Agent
Mulder," she said shakily. "He was the only one in the world that I ever
really confided in, even though most of the time he probably thought I was
crazy. He didn't deserve to die. That was my call. It was my work."
	
"Christann," said Scully, standing next to her and placing a reassuring hand
on her shoulder. "Christann, it wasn't your fault. There wasn't anything you
could have done..."
	
Christann shook her head hard, fighting a wave of hysteria. "If I had come
home five minutes earlier..."
	
Her words rocketed through Mulder as he felt the sickening irony of the
situation. Been there, done that. Oh, God...
	
"I'll do whatever you want to me to," Christann murmured. "As long as the
truth is revealed."
	
Scully's eyes met Mulder's. This was it. 
	
Mulder leaned forward. "Christann, have you ever been put through Deep
Regression Hypnosis?"

* * * * * 
1:12 p.m.

"So Marcus is thinking, it's now or never, and I'm thinking-" 

"What are you thinking?" he interrupted, his face animated and waiting.

"-and I'm thinking, what is that siren I'm hearing in the background?"
	
"No WAY!" he stared at her, amused and incredulous at the same time. "Who
called the cops?"
	
"It wasn't the cops, it was the fire department. My friend Sylvia and had
idiot prom date - "

Mulder made a small choking noise. "BURWOOD!?" 

"--  had built this campfire in the woods that had gotten totally out of
control, so we all had to ride back on the - what's it called, the um, the
pumper truck." She let a small giggle escape from her throat, not being able
to take in the situation. This was SO bizarre... "I can't BELIEVE I'm telling
you this..."
	
His face softened, his mouth pouty. "I can't believe you didn't tell me
before."
	
Reality was calling, it's voice very very very far away... so low and barely
perceptible. But she could still hear it. No, not again. She knew that it was
all fake, all of it. Just a dream. She didn't want to relive that stab of
guilt and pain again, when-
	
She saw Mulder lean toward her, and closed her eyes. Hell, maybe this time
it'll have a different ending...
	
She heard a door bang open, and exactly at the same time she was shoved
through the glass wall of dreams and reality when someone gently shook her
shoulder. Scully opened her eyes and gave a slight gasp. He was leaning down
to her...
	
"You awake?" he gazed down at her quizzically.
	
"Yeah, uh..." she blinked rapidly, glancing around, allowing her senses to
register her surroundings- a small hotel room. Christann was curled up on the
other bed, asleep. "I must have dozed off."
	
Mulder sat down. "I don't blame you." He indicated a small bag. "I had Frohike
go through our apartments and pick up some stuff."
	
"You had Frohike go through my underwear?"
	
"Give the kid something to dream about." Her mouth twitched. "They said
everything was totally trashed. You're declared missing since no one could
place you in your apartment when the gunshot went off. People couldn't even
place WHEN the gunshot went off. And there was no body." He paused, and
grinned. "I'm in trouble for disturbing the peace. The woman claims I flew
into the apartment and ran down the fire escape brandishing a gun and
yelling."
	
Scully sighed and stretched. "And no one around here is suspicious of us
suddenly showing up?"
	
He gave her the puppy dog look. "A room for me, my wife and daughter seemed to
be the most plausible."
	
"Suuuurreee..." Scully wondered what they were going to do about there only
being two beds and forced the thoughts out of her mind. "I'm going to go
change." She grabbed the bag and headed for the bathroom. Mulder watched the
door close behind her and winced. He hadn't told her. Then again, now was not
the time.
	
According to Frohike, the word had passed down from the 'higher-ups' that if
he did not report back with a decent explanation for their disappearance
within 24 hours, then Skinner was ordered to shut down the department.
	
He watched Christann. Eyes squeezed shut, mouth slightly open, dark hair
strewn about, curled up into a tiny ball... as much as he hated to admit it,
she DID remind him of Samantha. He noted her rhythmic breathing, wondering if
she knew her utter importance to his work.
	
We all know that Mulder's work is -snicker- his singular passion...
	
Mulder closed his eyes and sighed inwardly, remembering the look on Scully's
face when she had stumbled through the door.
	
Maybe not.
	
And now, here he had one link to the truth that was willing to go out and
expose it. It was time to put an end to it all. To find out what had happened
to Christann. And whatever that was... no matter what it meant.
	
He reached over and gently shook Christann's shoulder. She opened her eyes and
nodded sleepily.
	
It was time.
* * * * * 

1:42 p.m.

	
Christann squinted. "I can't hear..." She shook her head, straining. "The
sound is... all screwed up..." She shook her head again, then suddenly smiled.
"No- I can hear her- Annie." A grin spread across her face, and she gave a low
childish chuckle. "Annie is here. That means everything is ok."
	
Mulder leaned forward, trying to keep his voice steady and hold in his nervous
anticipation. "Who is Annie, Christann? What is she doing?"
	
Christann's lips parted and she gave a wide, wistful smile at the memory.
"Annie is my favorite. She's the nicest out of all of them. She's the
youngest, but she's been there the longest. She acts like my mother... she IS
my mother..."
	
Scully frowned. Her heart was racing, though she remained cool and collected
on the outside. Mulder's voice was throaty and low. "Where are you, Christann?
Describe it to me."
	
Her eye twitched. "My home... I dunno..." her hands were gesturing wildly, as
if that would add to the description. "Big... labs... and buzzing sounds
outside in the garden... always buzzing..." She frowned. "Tanks... and when I
look inside I see myself. I'm scared when I see that. But Annie says it's ok.
'Look,' she says, and points to another tank, 'Look, there's me. I'm in there
too. There's nothing to be afraid of.'"
	
Mulder glanced at the tiny tape recorder that was placed next to Christann. He
felt Scully's eyes on him and met her questioning gaze. The bees...
	
"Who else is there besides you and your mother, Christann?"
	
"Ummm.... theres... uhh...." she frowned. "The doctors. Just doctors. And the
other women. All my mothers. But they're all scared. They yell and scream and
cry a lot. They don't care about me. Only Annie cares. And there's the-" her
back stiffened, and her voice dropped, scared, like a little four-year-old.
"There's the bad man. He comes sometimes. I can't see him, but I can smell
him. He smells like burning garbage. He likes Annie. He comes and talks to her
a lot."
	
Scully's heart caught in her throat, and she swallowed with difficulty. The
Cancer Man...
	
Mulder felt his mouth go dry. His heart was racing. My father, my father... no
wait, you don't know he IS your father... Stop. He had to stay focused. "Go to
the days you remember in your dreams, Christann. You say they took someone
from you. What happened?"
	
Christann shrank back, and to Scully's amazement, stuck her thumb in her
mouth, her mouth turned downwards. The four-year-old was coming out...
	
"Something- got messy," she murmured. "The Bad Man- he came again, after they
did the tests on Annie. And Annie started yelling. Yelling something. She said
she wasn't Annie. The doctors hit her, and yell at her, and everyone tells her
to shut up. She just says I'm not Annie, I'm not Annie, I remember... and
starts to cry." Christann whimpered. "I run away from the others because I'm
scared. Annie, why? I start to cry... Annie, don't say that, Annie I'm
scared." She shook her head. "Then she started acting all, like, uh...
weird... the doctor says she has a personality lapse, and they rush around
her, and I am yelling and someone hits me. And Annie-" Christann's face was
scrunched up, trying hard to remember, "Annie sits down on the floor, and she
stares at the wall. 'It's your move, Fox,' and I laugh because I think it's a
game. But she look at me and doesn't know me and she doesn't see me anymore.
She doesn't know me. Annie, Annie, it's me, I say, and she just looks at me
and frowns. Don't call me Annie, my name is Samantha, she says loudly, and
then she, um, like,...-she talks to the air again. Fox, it's your move..."
	
Mulder's head was spinning, and the world rocked around him. Scully had rose
from her seat the second Christann had uttered the name Samantha and hurried
to his side. The air seemed dense and foggy around him, Christann's voice
slurring and farther away. Only one word echoed again and again in his mind.
Samantha Samantha 

Samanthanthanthanthanthanthanthanatha...
	
Scully could sense him tense and she saw the wild spark in his eye. She placed
her hand on his shoulder, urging him to focus, trying to control the burning
anticipation that was dancing around wildly within her. Mulder started at her
touch, and looked up at her, eyes wild and dark. He nodded imperceptibly when
he saw her face, knowing that he had to stay focused. Scully smiled slightly.
She sat down next to him and slipped her hand in his. He squeezed it
gratefully.
	
"Christann," God, his voice sounded so scratchy and different... he could
barely force the words passed his throat, "Christann, what do they do to her?"
	
Her face contorted, and she whimpered. "I- I- don't know. They take me away.
They-" she started gesturing again- "they lay me on a table, and this man
starts to talk to me. He says I am sleeping... and then they give me this
shot, and put something in my eyes..." She brushed her face with her fist. "It
stings and it burns and I cry. I smell the bad man there. He smells so yucky.
The man looming over me... he is so scary. His eyes are big and grey and-" she
choked suddenly. "I can't - breathe -" her arms flailed. "They put a mask over
me. It's air it's air it's air... then they try to erase it... the man says
I'm asleep but I'm not..."
	
"Then what?" Mulder tried hard to hide his impatience. Scully gave his hand a
tiny squeeze. 
	
Christann was shaking her head and rocking back and forth, as if having some
severe internal struggle. "No- no- NO!" her loud exclamation made Scully jump.
"I don't want them to erase it... and then the men come and they yell at each
other. They say that since I am one of 'them' it might not work. the Bad Man
doesn't care. He is really angry. I can tell. He calls to other man
Williamson. I don't like it how they say 'them.' I don't want to be 'them.' I
want to be normal, but I'm not, I know I'm not..."
	
Mulder's heart constricted. Christann... a clone...
	
"And then-" her voice came out shakily and high pitched. "- then they bring
Annie back. And they let me go play in the garden with the buzzing. I like the
buzzing. They are my friends. They don't let Bad Man near them. Only me.  And
big girls, bigger than me... they must be eight or nine... they look like
Annie, but a lot smaller, shorter. They are all the same. They don't let Annie
out there, either.  They say she'll be stung. I want to know what stung is. It
must be bad, if they don't let Annie do it..."
	
"Does Annie remember what she said?"
	
Christann chewed on her lip. "Ummm.... no. No. NO! No no no no no NONONONO!"
she shook her head decisively. "Annie never says anything again. I don't
remember anything either. I don't remember Samantha again... not until now..."
	
Mulder's breathing was raspy and he swallowed. What did they do to her? God it
hurt, listening to this... he pressed his lips together and was reassured at
the feeling of Scully's hand in his.
	
"And then- and then one day..." Christann was breathing hard and started to
tremble. "One day they take me on a - a train. I'm going away. Nobody cares,
except Annie. She wants to come with me. The Bad Man lets her. I don't know
why. The Bad Man likes her. She doesn't like him though. And they out me on
this table and they poke at me and-" she squirmed. "They say I'm just the
rough draft, but I'm better then before. I don't know why I'm better. But they
want to let me go, because I am close to a person, they say." She trembled
violently. "They hurt me, but Annie says it's okay. I don't remember what they
do, but it hurts. I hear the doctor say I won't last for long. He says I will
be there only a little longer then the others. And then they..." She gave a
low sob. "They- Annie starts to yell not to... but they do... she says I'm too
little, but they do. The Bad Man gets mad. They take her away. She is yelling.
I start to cry. I don't want her to leave. And then they-"
	
A shrill scream was emitted from her mouth, and she threw herself back,
kicking and flailing. Something clenched at Scully's heart. Her throat ached.
She leaned towards Mulder. "Please, make her stop," she murmured. He nodded,
his face pale. He took Christann's hand with his free one, and she shuddered
violently at the touch. "Christann, remember what I told you? This isn't
really happening. You're in control. You can draw back. You can make the pain
go away. Focus on your breathing. You can feel me holding your hand, right?"
	
God, yes, thought Scully. He was squeezing Scully's hand to hard she was
afraid he would break it.
	
Christann nodded. "Yeah, I do..." she breathed hard, and her panic seemed to
subside. She sat straight again. hey do something to me... it hurts real
bad... and I want to know why they are doing this to me... why... it isn't
fairrrr..." Her head lolled back, her voice a low whimper once more.
"Nnoooooo...." she moaned softly. "Please, noooo..."
	
"Christann, I'm going to count to three, and you can come back. You only have
to remember what you want to, okay?" Christann nodded, letting go of his hand.
He let it drift and settled on Scully's wrist. "One, two, three..."
	
Christann opened her eyes and looked at them. When she looked at Mulder her
eyes welled over with tears. "Did I remember?" she murmured. Mulder nodded
slowly, still gripping his partner's hand as if he would never let go. 
	
Christann gave a slight gasp, and Scully looked up. Oh God, no... 
	
A tiny trail of crimson trickled from Christann's nose. She jumped up and
grabbed a tissue, Mulder and Scully staring after her. No no no no no no... 
	
Neither could utter a word.

* * * * * 

	
Mulder's eyes stared ahead of him, not seeing or registering the world around.
He was dazed and for some odd reason his mind felt inert and numb. The light
from the window was a deep orange, meaning that the day was drawing to a
close. The day. It had been one hell of a day.
	
The door he was staring at opened and Scully walked in. "I got her the other
room," she said softly. "She fell right asleep, and it looks like she's going
to sleep for a couple of hours. She said she had a headache."
	
Mulder's eyes shifted up and met hers, tired and glassy and transparent. This
was one of the few times that he was stripped of all defenses, sitting there
like a wounded little boy, totally vulnerable to anything. Scully swallowed
and sat next to him. She reached up and touched his face gently.
	
"Are you okay?"
	
He was suddenly acutely aware of her closeness. "I don't know," he said
softly, voice tremulous and low. "I don't know. I really don't know." The
world was spinning and he felt like it was at least ninety degrees inside the
room. The whole thing was totally surreal... I have to be dreaming, he
thought.
	
He felt Scully's cool hand on his forehead. "You're exhausted," she said, her
voice barely a whisper, "and overwhelmed by what's happening. You should try
to get some rest."
	
He jerked up as if she had stung him. "No! No, not until we decide what to do
about this." He stood and started pacing, the passionate fire of his quest for
the truth returning to his eyes and countenance. She gave a tiny sigh and
begged him with her eyes. "Mulder-"
	
"We have it, Scully," he said quietly, "the truth. Evidence of the truth. For
the first time. This is the first time we got to it, and it wasn't stolen or
destroyed in an explosion. Do you realize what this means?" His voice
escalated, as did his excitement.
	
Scully was watching him with an almost pained expression on her face.
"Mulder-" she tried again.
	
"We have to do something about this. There have to be tests we can do on her-
to prove that she's a clone. And records- they have to be records. And
hypnosis is being accepted by psychologists now- we have to expose this. The
implications and ethics of her being a clone would come up, of course, but
that wouldn't be the point." His eyes were wild now, and his face flushed
slightly. Scully pressed her lips together.
	
"Mulder," she said softly, "you realize that she's dying?" Pause. "Because she
is," she continued, "and I don't know how much time she has left. I don't even
think she realizes... she has cancer, Mulder. Just like Penny. Just like me."
	
Mulder's agitation and excitement seemed to slide away; he looked away as if
not willing to stare grief in the face. 
	
"And I thought about what she said. Before she fell asleep, she muttered
something about-" Scully took a deep breath to steady herself, "about Benton
Willliamson. She said that she saw him, or heard him, or something like that."
She did not look at him. "If he's mixed up in this, Mulder- or if we imply
that he is- then either way, it's over."
	
Mulder's eyes never left her face. Benton Williamson was a prominent political
figure, who had been proven to be mixed up in small scandals before. He was
now known for his campaigning medical ethics. This... this would be a national
scandal, if it was even implied that he was entangled in it.
	
Did he care?
	
No.
	
But maybe Scully did. But he knew that he wouldn't go on with this without
her.
	
"Scully," he said quietly. "You know as well as I do what this means. It's
going to smear a lot of people. I knew that from the beginning. My life has
been searching for the truth, no matter what the consequences. I never really
cared what might happen with the implications of what I found." He paused.
"But if you do-" he shook his head slowly, "as painful as it would be to stop,
I would. Because I can't do this alone."
	
Her eyes widened slightly, and she stood and turned with her back to him, the
full weight of his words sinking in. He was going down in flames, and he was
asking her to go with him.
	
God, she loved him for it.
	
Mulder stood watching her, her back straight and stiff, wondering what she was
thinking. Finally she turned around, and he was shocked to see there were
tears in her eyes. "Mulder," she said, "when my father died, I wondered
whether or not he was proud of me for what I decided to do with my life. And
sometimes I wonder if I'm proud of myself. And then," she took a deep breath,
"when Duane Barry took me, and I woke up and I knew that you had been with me
the whole time, I made a decision. I decided that I would be with you the
whole way. No matter what. But then..." her voice cracked, and she swallowed,
trying to blink away the tears, "then, I had my whole life ahead of me. Now, I
don't know when I say goodbye every day if it will be the last time that I'd
see you." He started to speak, but she wouldn't let him. "I want to know that
my life meant something. I have nothing to hold back for. Nothing at all. I
had promised then, even before this..." there was no way she could force the
c-word passed her throat, "I promised then that I was here to find the truth.
And now that I have- I'm not going to walk away. Not for anything. Even a
cure-"
	
Mulder was by her side even as the words escaped her lips, and suddenly she
found her face pressing into his shoulder, her lungs wracked with sobs. He had
wanted to know her fears, but he had no idea that this is how she felt...
terrible remorse gripped at him. All he could do was hold her. His own
countenance threatened to give way when he realized that her arms were around
him, too.
	
God, he didn't deserve her. He didn't deserve her fighting devotion to him
which he so rarely returned, or her persistence which had made his quest hers.
But she didn't deserve to die. Fear and anger flooded his body and he lowered
his face to her hair and pressed a light kiss on the top of her head.  All the
words he had so long been wanting to say to her were threatening to burst out,
but he swallowed them with difficulty.
	
Scully clung to him, grateful and terrified, relieved to cry and cry and cry.
She drew a shaky and exhausted breath, confirming to herself that she was
still alive. Her face was still buried in his shoulder and her voice came out
muffled. "I'm sorry," she whispered raspily.
	
His fingers tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and her skin prickled.
"Don't you dare apologize to me, Scully," he answered softly.
	
She felt the unimaginable urge to sleep come over her, nagging that she hadn't
slept in what seemed like years. She closed her eyes and wished that she could
fall asleep like this. "I'm so tired."
	
Mulder moved away gently and stared down at her face. "You should get some
sleep. We've got a lot ahead of us."
	
She nodded and moved away towards the bathroom. He watched the door close
behind her, his face expressionless. 
	
Finally he moved and knocked on the bathroom door. "I'm going to get something
to eat and check on Christann," he called, and left the room. He closed the
door softly behind him, wondering at the fact that it was still so early. He
opened the door to the adjoining room. The curtains had been drawn tight,
casting the room into semi darkness. Christann was huddled in the bed, fast
asleep. Samantha's daughter. His niece. Who would've guessed. 
	
Sighing, he left the room and the motel. When he returned to 2d with coffee
Scully was curled up into a ball on one of the beds, her eyelids flickering as
she dreamed, her face still showing some evidence of tears recently shed.
Mulder felt a light twang in his heart as he watched her. Gently he let his
hand stray to her cheek and whispered a faint prayer to a God that he had long
since thought that he had forgotten. Passing his hand over his eyes, he sat
down to go over the evidence one more time.

--------

May 21
11:21 a.m.

Byers stared at Langly. "You're kidding. He's not going to go through with
this."
	
Langly was busy flipping through masses of papers. "I say we do it."
	
"You're crazy! BENTON WILLIAMSON?"
	
Langly glared at him. "Look, all we have to do is publish this. They say
they'll take it from there. We don't have to be involved at all."
	
Frohike was studying a picture of a UFO. "They're asking for our help."
	
"Yeah, and since when are Mulder's theory's totally orthodox?"
	
"Since when do you CARE?"
	
The phone rang. The men all shut up immediately and Langly picked up the
phone, snapping on the recording machine at the same time. "Gunmen." He
paused, rolled his eyes, and sat down. "It's off. IT"S OFF! God!" He listened
for a while then hung up. "They're on their way back. He now not only wants us
to publish it, he wants us to send to anonymously to a local newspaper."
	
Byers stared at him. "Yeah that's great. That's BRILLIANT. They'll take him to
court before he can even blink. And what about Scully?"
	
Frohike snapped to attention. "Yeah, what about Scully?"

"It seems that she's going with this."
	
Frohike's face fell, and he turned back to poring over the picture.
"Ayayay..." he sighed.
	
Byers was incredulous. "If he goes public with this no one is going to believe
him."
	
Langly picked up the papers. "That's up to him. He's come this far. You can't
expect him to turn back with this and pretend that it never happened.
Frohike?"
	
Frohike was hunched over the picture, his face unreadable. He sighed, took off
his glasses, and rubbed his eyes. "Do it," he said softly. Langly nodded. Here
goes nothing...

* * * * * 
J. Edgar Hoover Building
May 22
7:08 a.m.

	
Skinner threw down the paper and sighed. The headline had loomed out to him:
FBI ACCUSES WILLIAMSON OF SCANDAL. This was not good. This was NOT good. His
office had been flooded with calls from everyone. All outraged, demanding to
know what had happened. He had spent an hour yelling at the reporter who had
published the story. "Hey," he had said, "when someone says they have
irrefutable proof that the senator is mixed up in something dirty, the public
has a right to know." When Skinner had fumed that the FBI had made no formal
accusations, all the reporter would say was that the evidence was coming from
an FBI official. "It says Fox Mulder," he said. "Maybe it's a fake name.
Sounds like one. I dunno." No, he was not going to print a retraction.
	
Skinner was flooded with rage. He grabbed the paper and flung it across the
room. "DAMMIT!!!!" Someone knocked on the door and his secretary peeked in. He
stood there, a vein bulging on his forehead, hands on hips, face red. "What is
it?" he barked.
	
The secretary entered cautiously. "I just received a subpoena	for Agent Mulder
from the state."
	
"Yeah, well, I dunno where the hell he is," Skinner thundered. "All I know is
he can damn well kiss his sorry job goodbye and prepare to haul ass outta
here. When they get their hands on him, he'll be seeing the world from a JAIL
CELL."
	
The secretary fidgeted. "And what should I do with them, sir?"
	
"Put them on his desk. And tell the guards to seize him or his partner if any
of them venture to show their faces here, god damn them!"
	
The secretary nodded, and left. The phone jangled. "Skinner," he snapped
angrily. 
	
There was a silence on the other end, then Skinner could hear the faint
puffing sounds on the other end. "I presume that you read the papers, Mr.
Skinner?"
	
"Yeah, I read the papers," snapped Skinner. "What the hell do you know about
this?"
	
"It's not a good idea to falsely accuse a man that is so well known, Mr
Skinner, unless you have some pretty good evidence to back it up."
	
Skinner was seething. "Listen to me, you stupid son of a bitch, I have nothing
to do with this. I don't know where agent Mulder is. All I know is that he is
out of a job."
	
There was a brief silence. "Good," the Cancer Man said simply, "because I
wouldn't want to think that you were hiding anything about his whereabouts
from us. This is a very serious affair. The second Mulder surfaces, he goes to
court. And I want Scully out of the FBI, too."
	
"Under what authority?"
	
"Mine. Word will come down soon. Probably from the executive branch. And this
time, Mr. Skinner, the division will not be reopened." There was a click,
confirming that he had hung up. Skinner sighed.
	
This is gonna be hell, he thought.

* * * * * 
9:21 a.m.
Mrs Scully's house

	
The smell of coffee dragged Scully out of bed. She stood and shuffled towards
the kitchen. Mulder was there, hunched over coffee and talking on his cell
phone.
	
"I knew they were gonna subpoena me. We WANT to take them to court." There was
silence as he listened. "Leave it to me, dammit. What? Oh. Okay. Okay. Yeah."
He glanced at Scully. "She what?" He sighed. "Cut the crap, Frohike. Don't
give me the medical jargon. Here, talk to the doctor." He tossed the phone at
Scully irritably. She fumbled with it.
	
"Hello?"
	
"Hel-loooo, Dana!"
	
Scully squelched a smile and tried to act annoyed. "What is it, Frohike?"
	
"We got the results back for Christann. We found some stuff in her blood that
proves she's a clone; you'll just have to get some pretty technical experts on
your side to verify it. Her DNA..." Scully listened as Frohike rattled off a
list of medical terms. She'd heard them all before. The point was clear.
Christann had cancer as a result of mutated DNA. They did not know how long
she had. "Given everyone else, not long at all," Frohike explained. 
	
Scully sighed. "Thanks, Frohike," she said quietly. "I'll come by to pick up
the reports sometime today." She flipped off the phone and looked at Mulder,
who was stirring his coffee. "Where's Christann?"
	
"Still asleep."
	
She slid into the seat opposite him and took a good long look at his face. He
was tired, very tired. He hadn't slept in days. He spent all of his time on
the phone with the Gunmen, listening to the reports they had analyzed. They
had driven all day, taking the back roads to avoid traffic, and ended up at
Mrs. Scully's, who had welcomed them all with a mixture of fright and relief.
She told them that FBI had already come, asking about her daughter's
whereabouts.

Scully sighed and stood, walking back to her room to get dressed. On the way
she met her mother. "Good morning, mom."
	
"Morning Dana." From the look in Margaret Scully's eyes she hadn't slept at
all last night. "Where's Fox?"
	
"In the kitchen." Scully moved into her room and closed the door briskly.
	
Mrs. Scully sighed as she watched the door close. She knew her daughter was
afraid. She knew Fox was afraid, too. And they had a lot to be afraid of. 
	
She walked into the kitchen. Mulder gave her a quick smile. "Good morning,
Mrs. Scully."
	
She sat down in the set that her daughter had just occupied. "So, would you
mind informing me of your plan of action?"
	
He took another sip of coffee and avoided her eyes. "I'll go to the FBI today.
No doubt they'll be ready for me. Then they take me to court for fraud and I
say what I have to say."
	
Her gaze suddenly turned icy. "Why?"
	
Mulder sighed, gulped down the rest of his coffee, and stood, set in the sink,
and sank back down in his seat, rubbing his eyes. "Because the one person who
knows what they do out there doesn't have much time left." He looked up at
her. "Christann has cancer."
	
She looked back at him easily. "I know. Dana told me."
	
Mulder stared down at the table, his eyes open but not seeing. Anguish
wrenched at Mrs. Scully's heart. He looked awful. Absolutely awful. He was
losing both Dana and his niece to a cause he didn't even know would work.
	
"Does she know?"
	
Mulder shook his head slowly.
	
Scully re-entered the kitchen. "Christann woke up," she said softly. She
walked and stood behind Mulder. "I guess this is it."
	
He didn't turn to look at her. "I guess it is."
	
Mrs. Scully scrutinized his face. It was unreadable mixture of fear, guilt,
and pain. Scully was still talking. "I'll take Christann and get the things
from Frohike."
	
He nodded slowly. "I'll wait for you in whatever cell they choose for me." His
voice was flat, as if he wasn't so sure of himself anymore. He was having
doubts about this, Scully realized. As a matter of fact, so was she.
	
She crouched beside him and looked up into his face. "Good luck," she
murmured. A muscle in Mulder's jaw twitched, and he put his hand to her cheek,
staring into her eyes. Christann walked in and his hand dropped, his eyes cast
away, and he stood tiredly. Mrs. Scully stood as well. "Thank you, Mrs.
Scully," he rasped, and without saying anything else, left the room. The women
sat in total silence. About three minutes later they heard the front door
slam, and they knew he was gone.

* * * * * 

12:07 a.m.

	
"Mr Williamson!"
	
"Senator Williamson, over here!!!"
	
"Over here, sir, please smile, let us get a shot!!!"
	
Benton WIlliamson fought the sickening need to bolt as he stood and calmly
waved to the crowds of people and reporters that crowded around the building
he had just come out of.
	
"Mr. Williamson, what was your reaction to the article in this morning's
news?"
	
"I was shocked," he said pleasantly. "It was a vile and ugly thing to do, by a
very very sick man."
	
"Do you plan to take him to court?"
	
"I understand that Agent Mulder has been issued a subpeona. Thank you."
Williamson began to move towards the car again. The crowds followed him,
snapping pictures and shouting. After what seemed like miles, he finally
reached the limo. He turned and waved one more time to the crowd before
ducking inside and slamming the door.
	
He squeezed his eyes shut and fought to calm down. His life was crumbling
before his eyes. He had never thought that this would happen. He had been
assured that no one would know. 
	
The car slowly pulled away from the crowds, and Williamson lit a cigarette
with a tremulous hand. He inhaled deeply and nearly jumped out of his skin
when the phone rang. He snatched it up. "Williamson."
	
"You seemed a bit nervous out there." Williamson found himself revolted at the
sound of this man's voice.
	
"I think I have the right to be."
	
"There's nothing to worry about. We picked up Mulder an hour ago, walking into
the FBI as if nothing ever happened. Mr. Skinner had the guards waiting for
him. I called him and told him this morning about getting Mulder and Scully
out of the FBI." There was a pause and the man on the other line said in a
low, calculating voice, "You aren't planning to do anything rash, are you, my
friend?"
	
Williamson closed his eyes. "Can't we just kill them?"
	
"We will. But not now, when they are in the public eye. Everything is under
control."
	
Rage washed over Williamson. "Yeah, that's what you said when Christann
surfaced; that's what you said when she got away from the restaurant, and that
is what you said when we found Mulder's card in her apartment. Dammit, I need
to be SURE."
	
"You'll just have to trust me, then."
	
Williamson slammed down the phone in disgust. He was shaking all over, on the
verge of panic. Shit, goddamn the world. He yanked a bottle of whiskey from
the bar that adorned the limo, and took a long gulp. He considered for a
while, then told the driver to turn around and go to another street.
	
Thirty minutes later he hopped back into the limo with a small yet heavy paper
bag. 

* * * * * 
2:12 p.m.

	
"You realize that I'm the only lawyer on the face of this earth that would
every think of defending you," said the small dumpling of a man with huge
butterfly glasses that stared at Mulder with a look of pure disgust.
	
Mulder was leaning back in a chair, face flushed and shadowed with several
day's growth of a beard. "Yeah, well, don't flatter me by pointing out that
you are doing this because you have to."
	
The man pushed his glasses up his nose. "I was assigned to help you defend
yourself, Mr. Mulder. Any man in his right mind would not choose to do this on
his own."
	
Mulder sat back straight and glared at the man. "So you're stuck with me, are
you, Mr.-" he glanced at the card that was lying on the table, "Morgan?"
	
"I suppose you could put it that way."
	
"If I told you that I my sole proof with bringing Benton Williamson to the
stand- which is what I intend to do- was based on the testimony of a girl
under hypnosis, what would your initial reaction be?" Morgan did not answer.
Mulder smiled and shook his head, leaning back again. "Oh, geez."
	
Andrew Morgan stood, irritated, and headed to the door. "I did not choose this
blatant forfeit, Mr. Mulder. I think you should know that I can help you all I
can, but as of today you an consider yourself in deep-" he paused and his eyes
narrowed, "trouble."
	
"You don't suppose they'll post bail today?"
	
"Since you so very openly yelled that you planned to prosecute Senator
Willliamson- on the news, I might add - I'd say your chances are pretty slim.
Not to mention you are already in trouble for violating code and taking off on
a case with no jurisdiction whatsoever."
	
Mulder stared straight at him. "I'd think that the day they kick me out of the
FBI is considered a national holiday."
	
Morgan's lips drew into a fine line. "I'll see you in court tomorrow, agent
Mulder." He pressed the buzzer and several moments later a guard entered to
escort Mulder back to the cell. Mulder recognized him immediately. It was the
young black guard that was usually operating the metal detector inside the
entrance to the building. He cast his eyes downwards and mumbled, "This way,
sir." He seemed almost ashamed of the fact that he had to do this. Mulder
followed him without question and flopped down on the cot, staring up at the
gray cold ceiling, wishing that Scully would come. His head was pounding and
he felt tired and sick. He closed his eyes just for a second-
	
"Agent Mulder," a voice barked. He opened one eye and sat up. Skinner was
glaring at him through the bars of the cell.
	
"Whatever happened to visitors hours? Can everyone just barge in like this?"
	
Skinner was glaring at him, pure anger in his eyes. "I just came here
demanding an explanation."
	
Mulder rubbed his face and looked at the assistant director blearily. "Doesn't
everybody."
	
"You went off on an unauthorized case and disappeared with your partner,"
thundered Skinner, "and was involved in a shooting in your own building. Then
you proceed to accuse a SENATOR of being involved in a government conspiracy!"
	
Mulder's jaw clenched. "And your point would be..."
	
Skinner's back stiffened. "I just came to tell you that both you and Scully
have just submitted your resignations from the bureau."
	
"Funny I don't remember that. Did I at least spell bureau correctly?" Now that
this man was no longer his boss insults just seemed to leap off his tongue. 
	
"Cut the crap, you son of a bitch," Skinner snapped. "I'm not surprised you
put your job down the drain, but to do the same to Agent Scully is beyond
comprehension, especially now that-"
	
"-now that she's dying and we should all throw her a pity party?" Mulder stood
up and faced Skinner, eyes blaring. "Let me tell you, sir, that that's the
LAST thing Scully would want for herself. The people that I am accusing know
what happened to her, and the damn well know how to reverse it. If you truly
cared about her condition, you would be on the other side of these bars. In
the meantime, don't dare to tell me or my partner what is in your
comprehension or beyond it, because we are trying to unearth the truth, which
THOSE men, and for all I know, you as well, have been trying to use to destroy
the lives of innocent people!" He was facing him squarely now, angry. Skinner
stared back coolly. Mulder refused to back down. "Sir."
	
Skinner finally cast his eyes away and turned, storming towards the door. As
he was about to leave he turned. "There was a time that I would've cared about
your actions. You were a terrific agent, and could've made your place for
yourself. But now, you can do whatever you want. Burn in hell, for all I
care." The last words that were spat out were left ringing in Mulder's ear
long after the door slammed shut.

* * * * * 
9:43 p.m.

	
Scully waited outside the cell blocks while the guard went to get Mulder. The
guard had cast his eyes down and stuttered. She remembered him- he was the one
that operated the metal detector the day that she discovered the chip in her
neck. He seemed very flustered by the entire turn of events. She had been
dragged in the outside area by several guards when she entered the building;
only to spend what seemed like hours arguing with the bailiff, who decided to
post bail. "Don't go far," he had warned. "And don't be a minute late for the
hearing tomorrow."
	
The door opened and the guard returned, followed by Mulder. Her heart went out
to him when he entered. He looked exhausted and slightly feverish. He walked
over to her and did not say a word, his eyes slightly closed, as if trying to
ward off an impounding headache. She sighed. "How are you feeling?"
	
"Like I just spent the day in jail."
	
Scully felt his forehead. "You're burning up," she murmured. "You really have
to get some sleep. We have a big day ahead of us tomorrow."
	
Mulder closed his eyes. "Insomniacs don't sleep."
	
Scully headed out of the building and he followed her mutely. Only when they
were in the car did she speak. "Did Skinner tell you-"
	
"Yes," Mulder mumbled. "He was gracious enough to deliver the message
personally." Scully nodded, her face a study, eyes concentrating on the road
ahead of her. Mulder's head dropped back and his breathing became even. It
wasn't long before she pulled up outside his apartment. Scully turned off the
engine and regarded her partner quizzically, wishing she didn't have to wake
him. She touched his wrist lightly. "Mulder."
	
"Hmm." His eyes opened slightly, staring straight at her, making her breath
catch in her throat for a split second. "We're here," she explained.
	
He blinked several times and got out of the car without a word. Scully
followed him inside, watching as he absentmindedly pushed the door, already
unlocked, open. She gasped when she saw the shambles. The place was a wreck.
Mulder didn't seem to notice, or care. He kicked off his shoes and threw some
stuff off the couch before stretching down on it, one hand on his forehead.
Scully hurried to the bathroom and returned a few moments later with a
compress and some aspirin that she gave to him immediately. "You have a slight
fever," she murmured. Mulder didn't answer. She sighed again. There was NO way
she was leaving him like this. She shoved papers and clothes off a nearby
armchair and sat down, watching him toss and turn in his sleep. Presently her
eyelids drooped and she slept as well.

* * * * * 

Fox Mulder's apartment
May 22
7:15 a.m.

	
The jangling of a phone jolted Scully out of her sleep. She started up and
glanced around her, wondering where she was. Then her eyes fell on Mulder
asleep on the couch and she remembered.
	
Subpoena... court... hearing... sick...
	
The phone rang shrilly again. Mulder shifted in his sleep but didn't wake up.
Scully sprang to her feet and darted for the phone, hoping to pick it up
before it woke her partner. She managed to snack it up as it rung the third
time. "Hello?" she gasped slightly.
	
There was a pause, and then the sound of a woman's voice. "Fox?"
	
Scully frowned and moved hurriedly out of the room. "No- this is his partner."
	
"DANA?! What are you doing there? I want to speak with my son."
	
Scully's face flooded with color. "Oh- Mrs. Mulder, I'm sorry. He's asleep."
The words seemed to roar up around her and she cringed again at Mrs. Mulder's
suspicious silence when she said that. She could almost feel her EYES
scrutinizing her through the phone. Why in the world are you at my son's house
this early in the morning? "He wasn't feeling very well."
	
"What is going on here, Dana?" Mrs. Mulder interrupted sharply. "I need to
speak with him."
	
Scully swallowed an annoyed retort and tried to keep her voice low. "I'd
rather not wake him, if you don't mind. He hasn't been getting much sleep
lately, and we have a lot ahead of us-" she turned and almost crashed into
Mulder with a surprised "oh." He rubbed his eyes blearily. Who is it? he
mouthed.
	
Your mother, she mouthed back. He took the phone from her. "Mom? Hi. Yes. Yes.
Yes, I- MOM! Mom, calm down. Please... yes, I know. I realize that." He
glanced at Scully helplessly. She moved back into the living room. After a few
minutes he joined her and replaced the phone. Her gaze was worried. 
	
"How are you feeling?"
	
"Better." That wasn't entirely the truth. He still hadn't slept that well the
night before. He was kept up by worries of what to come. His head was still
pounding and he was flushed and looked exhausted. With a sigh he rubbed his
scratchy chin. "What time do we have to be there?"
	
"Nine-thirty. You better change. You look like you slept in those clothes."
	
"What a coincidence." There was a stretched silence before Scully stood and
headed for the door. "I'm going home, and then I'll pick up Christann from
mom's. I'll be here at nine. Okay?"
	
He nodded.

* * * * * 

9:38 a.m.

	
"Agent Mulder!" The screams and shouts coming from reporters crowding next to
the courthouse was deafening. Christann lowered her head and stumbled after
the agents as they pushed through the crowd. It seemed like forever before
they finally reached the safe haven inside. Andrew Morgan was waiting for
them, holding a briefcase and looking very professional. "My God," Mulder
muttered. "Could we have avoided all this hoopla by having me tried by the
bureau?"
	
Morgan frowned disapprovingly. "This isn't about you keeping or losing your
job, Agent Mulder. This is about whether or not your accusations were true."
They made their way towards the courtroom. Scully had to hurry to keep up with
Mulder's stride. Christann followed them, eyes wide, but her back straight and
her countenance confident. 
	
Andrew Morgan paused before opening the courtroom door. He looked at
Christann. Christann looked at Mulder. Mulder looked at Scully. And Scully
stared straight back at him. Morgan swallowed, assumed lawyer stance, and
opened the doors briskly. 
	Heads turned and voices hushed as they entered the room.

* * * * * 
9:55 a.m.

	
Mulder's bleary brain tuned out of the opening statements; all that really
registered was "How do you plead?" 

"Not guilty." Did they think he would go through all this trouble just to
confess?
	
Scully was sitting right behind him with Christann. He felt reassured by her
presence. Mulder leaned back and whispered, "Where's Williamson?"
	
Her hushed voice sounded relatively calm. "He's not here. He won't have to
show up unless you formally accuse him and he has to take a stand."
	
"Jesus, does he want it in writing?" Mulder muttered back, shutting up
immediately as Morgan glared at him and grunted "Ahem!" With a sigh, Mulder
tried hard to concentrate, but his mind was consumed with the fire of
anticipation. He barely heard what Morgan said; all he knew was that is
sounded short and concise. It ended with a mumbled, "And my client has stated
that it is - " pointed pause and slight rolling of eyes, " - his intent to
prove the accusation printed in the DC Times were true." This sent a ripple of
surprise through the people. Mulder's eyes scanned the room. He recognized
some of the people- reporters, UFO freaks and supporters of Williamson. He
thought he even saw Frohike sitting in the way back disguised in a trenchcoat,
a tiny mustache and huge glasses.
	
"The state calls Walter Skinner to the stand."
	
Urgghhh. Scully shifted nervously in her seat and pointed an icy gaze towards
the assistant director as he swore to tell the truth, the whole truth, and
nothing but the truth, so help him God. Skinner sat back and stared easily at
the counsel for the state, a tall swaggering man by the name of Eddie
Spotnitz. 
	
"Mr. Skinner, by whom are you currently employed?
	
"I am the Assistant Director of the Federal Bureau of Investigation."	
	
"And you are familiar with the agent Fox Mulder?"
	
"I was his supervisor, yes."
	
"Was?"
	
Skinner did not hesitate. "Agent Mulder and his partner resigned from the FBI
yesterday."
	
"Resigned or were forced to resign?"
	
"They were forced to. Word was sent down from the executive branch the day
that the article was printed in the paper."
	
"Was the article the only reason for this dismissal?"
	
Skinner straightened. "No, it was not."
	
Spotnitz continued to pace around nonchalantly. "Oh? Would you please name for
us some of the other events?"
	
"Mulder disappeared with his partner for several days to work on a case that
had not yet been authorized by the bureau. Word was sent out that if they were
not to return within 24 hours, then they would be fired."
	
Scully raised an eyebrow. This was news.
	
"Anything else?"

"Agent Mulder has been known to do these things. It was far from the first
time, and probably far from the last. He was involved in a shooting in his
building the day of his disappearance. A woman complained that he ran into her
apartment, brandishing a gun and yelling."
	
Mulder's back stiffened. He was angry. Even from the back, Scully had learned
to tell the signs. She put her hand on his shoulder ever so gently and he
relaxed a bit.
	
"Mr. Skinner, do you recall an incident involving you and Agent Mulder
approximately two years ago?"
	
"Yes, I do. Agent Mulder attacked me in the hallway."
	
It was Scully's turn to be angry. "You were DRUGGED! You were delirious he
KNOWS that!" she screamed, in a whisper. Spotnitz's next words confirmed that.
	
" Why was Agent Mulder not prosecuted?"
	
"Because it was found that his water had been drugged by certain
hallucenogens."
	
Spotnitz turned on his heel and strode to his desk. He leaned against it and
crossed his arms across his chest, looking like a smug arrogant rich man. "Mr.
Skinner, do you consider Agent Mulder to be mentally stable?"
	
For the first time Skinner hesitated. He turned and stared right at Mulder.
Burn in hell, for all I care. "No, I don't."
	
This time Mulder half rose out of his seat. Scully did, too, but only to pull
him back down. "It's okay," she whispered. His face was even more flushed and
his eyes were wild. Her hand brushed the back of his neck, making him shiver a
bit. He's running a fever again, Scully realized. There wasn't anything to do
about it now...
	
"Why do you think that, Mr. Skinner? In your last report - the one dated two
years ago - you indicated that he was."
	
Skinner had adopted the smug look. He almost looked as if he was enjoying
himself. "It is my personal belief that Mulder has started to mix truth with
reality. He has spent his entire life losing people, and his quest to save
them and himself has clouded his thoughts and actions. All of the unorthodox
theories and cases that he has chased have had a negative effect on his
rationality. And now that his partner has been diagnosed with cancer-"
	
For the first time Morgan found an opportunity to jump in. "Objection!" he
barked. "Witness is going into irrelevant information." The judge glanced at
Spotnitz, who shrugged. The judge nodded. Spotnitz gave a heavy sigh as if to
say Why do they even bother? and sat back down. "No more questions," he
intoned loudly.
	
Morgan stood, trying to look as calm and collected and confident as his
predecessor. "Mr. Skinner. To which division of the FBI is Agent Mulder
assigned?"
	
"A division called The X-Files."
	
"And this division is supposed to deal with the paranormal, or, as you put it,
'unorthodox theories'?"
	
"That's correct."
	
"Have the majority of these questions had definate closure?"
	
Skinner shifted in his seat. "The majority of the cases have not reached
definite conclusions."
	
"So is it plausible that Agent Mulder's theories were not so unorthodox as
they seem? That perhaps from time to time he may have been right?"
	
"Ob-jec-tion," sighed Spotnitz. "Calls for speculation."
	
"I'll rephrase that," Morgan conceded. "Agent Dana Scully was, am I correct,
assigned to work with Mulder to support the plausibility of his conclusions?"
	
Both Mulder and Scully felt the tension when he said that. No matter how long
they had been working together, it was still a touchy subject. I was under the
impression that you were sent to spy on me...
	
"Yes."
	
"And she conclude in some of these cases that perhaps he was right?"
	
"In a few, yes."
	
"So maybe his ideas were not quite so unorthodox? Maybe Mulder isn't quite as
crazy as you thought?"
	
Skinner sighed noisily. "I had no doubts about Mulder's mental health when he
began as an agent. He was brilliant. I do believe that working in these cases
and all of his personal losses have had a negative effect on him, involving
him emotionally in the cases. For example, he seems to think that every case
with a young girl is connected to his missing sister."
	
Morgan paused. Okkkayyyyy. That wasn't where he had meant to take it at all.
Mulder closed his eyes and mentally banged his head against the wall. At least
now they don't think I was born insane, he thought. I just became insane with
age.
	
Morgan tried helplessly to repair the damage, but it was too late. "No more
questions," he sighed tiredly and returned to his seat, not looking at either
of the agents. Christann looked pale and worried. 
	
Skinner tried hard to ignore the looks of pure hate he got from the agents as
he left the witness stand.

--------
12:52 p.m.
	
	
Mulder felt like his brain was about to explode. His head was spinning. He
felt like it was ninety degrees inside the courtroom. The room was starting to
sway about him.
	
DAMMIT! He rested his head in his hands for a split second before Morgan
nudged him disapprovingly. Morgan looked tired, too. More witnesses had been
called. All agents. All said that he was crazy, either downright spooky or
just a little "odd." Morgan had put up a fight now and then, but it didn't
seem to work. The one thing that he had going for him was the psychologist
that was called to the stand. He had concluded that Mulder was "not dangerous
but plagued by the past." Hmmm. Sounded like a made for TV movie.
	
After what seemed like hours the judge called for a recess. Mulder snapped to
attention. Oh, good. That meant that the state was done calling it's
witnesses. Thank God. He was sick of everyone up there saying that he was
insane. 
	
There was the bang of the gavel, and the people stood and swarmed about. He
could vaguely hear Morgan talking to Scully in a low voice. Christann slid
into the seat beside him, not saying anything. He gave her a sidelong gaze,
noting the pouty lower lip and her intense fiery gaze. She really did look
like Samantha. She acted like Samantha. It was uncanny.
	
More voices blurbed in the background, and Christann stood and walked down the
aisle followed by Morgan. Mulder sat there dumbly, his senses not registering
what was going on... the feel of Scully's hand on his forehead jolted him back
into reality. She leaned down close to him and his senses rushed back with a
whoosh. She gazed into his face with a skeptical expression.
	
"How are you doing?"
	
He closed his eyes in an attempt to soothe the pounding headache. "Fine."
	
His eyes snapped back open when she carefully brushed away a lock of hair,
which had a habit of falling into his eyes. "You're sick."
	
Mulder rubbed his temples. "Isn't that what all the witnesses have been
saying?" She didn't answer and he sighed. "I'm fine. Really."
	
Scully briskly poured him a glass of water from the pitcher that was placed on
the table and dug some aspirin out of her pocket. "Here." He took it in
silence, trying to steady a shaking wrist. She gently took the glass from him
and set it back on the table. "I'm next."
	
"You'll steal the show."
	
Scully leaned back in the chair and let her eyes travel around the courtroom.
"Morgan took Christann to get something to eat."
	
"How's she doing?"
	
"She'll be okay. She's a fighter. It's her life." She paused. "Sure as hell
reminds me of you."
	
"Funny, I was about to say that same thing about you..."
	
She laughed lightly and slid a bit closer. He looked straight at her, his
finger absentmindedly wiping the condensation off the glass that was in front
of him. "Will you be okay?"
	
"I guess. I have a gun if they try to mess with me."
	
"You might just save my life." He said it lightly, but they both knew it was
true.

* * * * * 
1:07 p.m.
	
Davis watched the man and the woman sitting alone in the courtroom. He was
above them, watching from a tiny window near the ceiling. The man was sick. He
was flushed and tired and looked a bit dazed. He watched the woman reach up
and touch his face tenderly.
	
"They're close," he observed. Williamson didn't answer. He just stared at them
mutely. The silence was broken when the man behind them took a long drag on a
cigarette.
	
"Yes," he murmured, "and hopefully that will destroy her credibility."
	
David felt his heart quicken in a sense of relief. "They're..."
	
The gray man shook his head. "No. Not yet, at least; though her illness has
worn away some of the shield under which they hide their devotions. But who's
to know the difference? Even if these accusations against Agent Mulder were
the truth, she would stick up for him."
	
Williamson spoke for the first time. "What about the girl?" 
	
The gray man's eyes followed the swirls of smoke that whirled around in the
air as he exhaled. "I don't think they'll get that far. And if they do, then
she won't remember anything. Mulder is being exposed as a nutcase." Without
any more he turned and exited the room. As the door closed, Williamson spoke
again.
	
"We're doomed."
	
Davis spoke angrily and harshly. "Listen to me, you cowardly bastard. We're in
this together. I don't know what is going through your head right now. But
don't do anything rash and leave me hanging here. If we do go down, then we go
together."
	
Williamson's mouth opened in a sort of smile. "What you mean to say is, I you
go down I do too, but if I go down first, I doubt you'll be there to say
goodbye. The little bitch doesn't have anything on you yet. But if she did,
then I won't be there to do anything but wish you luck."
	
Feeling rage flood him, Davis thanked God he didn't have his gun. If he did,
he would've killed the bastard. "Is that what partners are for?"
	
Williamson turned his gaze back towards the two in the courtroom. They were
talking, heads bent close together and gazes locked. "Apparently not."

* * * * * 

1:26 p.m.

	
"Agent Dana Scully."
	
Mulder sat up straight as he watched her walk down the aisle, her face
expressionless and her posture cool and collected. Morgan was standing next to
the table pretending to be methodically shifting through stacks and stacks of
notes. In reality it was about three pages of notes, some scribbled questions,
and a lot of junk. Lawyers.
	
Scully settled back in the chair in the witness stand after she had been sworn
in. Her face was pale and her gaze cool. Her eyes scanned the room. The only
thing that Mulder could find that betrayed her nervousness where her hands,
which she had in her lap and was clasping and unclasping so hard that her
knuckles turned white. Her eyes met his for a moment. He pursed his lips and
her chin jutted out; she shifted in the chair and her hands stopped moving.
She regarded Morgan easily.
	
'Agent Scully, how long ago were you assigned to work with Agent Mulder?"
	
"A little over four years."
	
"And what exactly where you to do?"
	
Scully paused as if collecting and organizing her thoughts, thinking back to
her first meeting with Blevins. "I was assigned to work with him on the x-
files and write field reports on the validity of his work."
	
"And did you do so?"
	
"Yes I did."
	
"At any time, did agent Mulder tend to go off on so-called unorthodox
theories?"
	
Something almost like a smile fleeted across Scully's lips. "Yes, he did, but
not without something to propel those beliefs."
	
"I see. Agent Scully, would you please, in your own words, recall what
happened on the date of May 19th?"
	
Scully told about the shooting; how a 'suspect from an earlier case had
resurfaced'; their search for Christann. "When we did find her, Agent Mulder
put her through hypnosis, in which she recalled events in her past that were
connected to the disappearance of Mulder's sister. She also recalled some
startling facts that Agent Mulder and I agreed were necessary to shed light
upon; facts concerning illegal actions of the Senator Benton Williamson. We
sent the story to the local paper and the next day I came and was told that
Mulder had been arrested for scandal."
	
"Mmm-hmmm." Morgan shot her an approving look. Good, he told her silently. She
did not respond in any way. "Agent Scully, do you trust your partner?"
	
"With my life." She did not hesitate.
	
"And at any time, during any of your cases, did you ever question his sanity?"
	
Mulder thought of the gargoyles and shot Scully a look. "Never, Mr. Morgan."
	
"And I assume that in your four years working together you have learned a lot
about each other?" Scully didn't even bother to answer. "In your opinion,
would my client provoke such a scandal if he did not have a reason to do so?"
	
"No."
	
"Thank you," Morgan strode back to his seat. Spotnitz looked as if he had
fallen asleep. He stood and arrogantly approached Scully. 
	
"Agent Sc-ully," he drawled, "I have been reading some of the reports here, of
your work with Agent Mulder. It appears that not too long ago you were brought
to court when Agent Mulder was missing soon after the discovery of a meteorite
that he presumed held extraterrestrial life."
	
"That is correct."
	
"Did you know where Agent Mulder was at this time?"
	
"I did not know at that time."
	
"So you went to court to defend your partner, who had just left you here
without a word to go and chase aliens?"
	
Something flickered in Scully's eyes and Mulder felt a twang somewhere within
him. It wasn't the only time. "Yes."
	
"That is an amazing bond of trust. How could you be sure that he would even
return?"
	
Scully's chin jutted out again. "I just knew."
	
Spotnitz's eyes lit up. "Ahh... you just knew.  Was this the only time that
you were left in the dark about your partner's actions?"
	
Scully was tensing up all over. "No."
	
"I'm not sure that I am clear on your relationship with your partner, Agent
Scully. What constantly brings you to the defense of a man that hardly seems
to hold up to his end of the deal?"
	
Mulder kicked Morgan's heel. "Say something," he hissed. Morgan opened his
mouth helplessly, but stopped when Scully snapped back, "What EXACTLY do you
mean by that, sir?" Her eyes were blazing.
	
Spotnitz was having a lot of fun. He enjoyed bullying the witnesses.
Especially when he was so certain he would win no matter what he did. "I was
sort of hoping that you could tell me that."
	
Scully's jaw clenched. "When I was missing several years ago, Agent Mulder did
all he could to find me. He was one of the first people there when I came out
of my coma. He has saved my life a number of times. I'm not sure, sir, that it
is in your place to question my relationship with my partner." Her tone was
sharp and steely. She was teetering dangerously on the edge of her temper.
	
Spotnitz made a low strangled noise in the back of his throat. "Riiiight, you
just keep telling yourself that." Mulder kicked Morgan so hard in the shin
that Morgan emitted a loud gasp. "Dammit," Mulder growled, "if you don't say
anything, I will."
	
Morgan wiped his brow, and leaped up. "Objection-counsel-is-browbeating-the-
witness" he threw out all in one breath.
	
"Your honor, I apologize and please disregard my last statement, but if you
would let me proceed, I will establish my point." The judge nodded.
	
Spotnitz turned back to Scully. Her steely gaze during this exchange was
focused on Mulder. She was faltering. She swallowed and stared back at the
lawyer.
	
"Agent Scully, you have said that you trust your partner with your life. Am I
correct in saying that you have just been recently been diagnosed with
terminal cancer?"
	
"Yes."	
	
"So in a sense you really don't have anything to lose by being here?"
	
"Damn him," Mulder growled through clenched teeth. "Objection!!" called out
Morgan. 
	
"Sustained," complied the judge. Mulder didn't dare look away from Scully. She
looked a but flushed and her eyes showed dangers of falling apart. Her lip was
starting to tremble. Spotnitz pondered his words for a moment.
	
"Agent Scully, you and your partner have been through a lot together, and you
have said that you entrust your partner with your life. May I ask just how
intimate you are with him?"
	
Morgan managed to jump up before Mulder kicked him again. It didn't matter.
Mulder was standing too, eyes blaring and fists clenched. "Don't answer that,
Scully," he barked out. 
	
Scully could hear everyone yelling around her. Finally Spotnitz's voice rose
above the din. He was leaning down, yelling at her. "WOULD YOU LIE TO PROTECT
HIM???"
	
"Yes, I would," Scully snapped back, her voice high pitched and threatening to
explode. "Dammit," gasped Moragn. The courtroom quieted down within moments.
Everyone was staring at her, all of her credibility slowly disintigrating.
Spotnitz shrugged. "No more questions," he said simply.
	
Mulder stared back at Scully, openmouthed. She stared back, his fears mirrored
in her eyes.

Scully jumped when the gavel banged down. "Adjourned till tomorrow," the judge
said quietly.	

--------
5:58 p.m.

	
Christann looked from Mulder to Scully and back again. Both were sitting there
silently, Mulder's face tired and flushed from the fever that had not failed
to return. Scully was staring blankly out ahead of her, her face stoic but her
eyes betraying her feelings. The agents were sitting a few inches apart, and
one could sense the invisible wall of tension that was pulsing between the two
of them.
	
Morgan was talking about the next day. They were sitting in Mulder's
apartment, trying hard to ignore the fact that it was still a complete wreck.
They had to fight off the crowds of reporters that were waiting for them
outside. Scully had in vain suggested that Mulder just get some rest, but he
had brusquely refused. Morgan pointed out that they had a lot to go over.
	
Christann was to be put on the stand the next day. Morgan had gone over the
fact that Spotnitz would without a doubt bring up her medical history and try
to destroy her credibility as he had Scully's. He had been on the phone for an
hour trying to contact Doctor Heitz Werber, the hypnotic specialist that had
put Mulder through hypnosis before he even met Scully. He had agreed to come
to court the next day to out Christann under hypnosis.
	
"Now," Morgan was saying, "our main problem is whether or not the jury will
accept hypnosis as a form of testimony. And I also predict that Spotnitz will
try to get Christann off the stand as soon as possible because his main goal
is to prove that you are not in your right mind. This case is about whether or
not you rightly provoked scandal, Mulder, not whether or not your accusations
are true."
	
"Do whatever you want, just make sure that that bastard is put in his place,"
Mulder replied. He was having great trouble concentrating. 
	
"Mr. Morgan," said Scully gently, "Mulder is sick and all he really needs now
is rest. Have we finished this discussion?"
	
"No we haven't," Mulder snapped. Scully flinched as if he had stung her. She
stood briskly and headed for the door. "I'm going to go get us something to
eat," she mumbled.
	
Mulder cringed as the door slammed. "Shit," he muttered, rubbing his eyes.
They trio sat in silence for a second before the phone rang and shattered the
quiet. Morgan picked it up. "Hello? Doctor Werber... yes, this is he... mm-
hmmm..." he walked into the next room. Christann was playing with a lock of
hair, twisting it around her finger. 
	
"I didn't mean to snap at her," Mulder sighed, saying it more to himself then
anyone else.
	
Christann's eyes stayed focused on the lock of hair. "She didn't mean it to
end up as it did. That lawyer really gave her a hard time. And she answered
the question truthfully."
	
"She didn't have to. Morgan objected."
	
"Yes, but you saw how upset she was. By answering truthfully she put her whole
defense for you down the drain." Mulder didn't answer and Christann
absentmindedly tucked the hair behind her ear. "My whole relationship with
Joel was destroyed because he didn't fully trust me. He didn't always believe
me. He thought I was crazy after a while." She watched him carefully.
	
Mulder was leaning on his elbow, his hand covering most of his face. "I told
her I couldn't do this alone. And she said that she wanted to make something
of her life before it was over. She's helping me achieve my goal and I can't
so a thing for hers."
	
There was a tense silence and Christann started playing with her hair again.
"I've been getting a lot of nosebleeds recently," she said softly. Mulder
looked up at her. Her eyes were focused hard on the lock of hair once more.
When he didn't answer her eyes traveled and met his. He tried to avert her
gaze but couldn't. She frowned and leaned back. "How much time do I have?"
	
"I don't know." Mulder's voice was tremulous. "I'm sorry."
	
Christann sighed. "It doesn't matter. I'm doing something with the time I have
left." She watched the hair again. "I read that it makes more sense to mourn
those that are left behind then those that go ahead of you."
	
Something in the back of Mulder's throat threatened to give way. Christann
looked at him sharply and drew in her breath. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."
	
"You shouldn't be."
	
"I am. I'm not afraid of death, not now that I am doing what I should. My one
regret is that I didn't get a chance to tell Joel how much he really meant to
me. He had given his life for me. My cause. If I had not depended on him as
much this would have not have happened."
	
Sickening irony blazed through Mulder's mind for the second time. Christann
continued to speak. "And if I could go back in time, I would have told him
before he died. It wouldn't have made the pain go away, but I would be
satisfied with the knowledge that he knew-" her voice dropped and faltered for
a split second but she steadied herself, "that I had always loved him." She
watched him carefully when she said that.
	
Mulder swallowed, reached out, and took her hand. "You're a great person,
Christann."
	
"I should be. I'm related to you."
	
Morgan came back into the room. "It's all set," he informed them. He looked at
Christann. "Are you ready?"
	
"As ready as I'll ever be."
	
Morgan fell back in his chair and sighed. "Jesus Christ, I sure got a lot more
then I bargained for with this case."
	
The front door opened and heads turned as Scully came back in with a bag. Her
face had regained composure but Christann could still see evidence of hurt on
her eyes. She tossed the bag on the table. "Food."
	
Morgan shook his head. "Hell no. Everything's all set. My wife and kids are
waiting for me with dinner at home." He looked at Christann. "I'd feel a lot
safer for you if you stayed with our family tonight." He regarded the
apartment. "It doesn't look like they did a very good job protecting you, and
you ARE the star witness." Christann did not argue. Five minutes later all
that was in the apartment were the agents, the bag of food, and an
embarrassing silence.
	
Scully started to pull out some of the food but presently stopped. "Mulder,"
she blurted out, "I didn't mean to-"
	
"You told them the truth," he interrupted her. "It isn't your fault."
	
"I was one of the only witnesses on your side, and they won't believe me now."
	
"It doesn't matter." Mulder stared at the food, but didn't take any. Scully
reached out and touched his wrist. "Get some sleep, Mulder. Look at you.
You're killing yourself."
	
Mulder sighed. "Yes, mother." He stood. Scully did too. "I better get back
home. Mom is going to call me as soon as she sees the news." She headed for
the door.
	
Christann's words came rushing back to Mulder. "Scully," he said suddenly. She
turned, finding herself drawn into his gaze. "I just-" he paused and gestured
with his hands. "Thank you," he said finally. "For today. What you said at the
end... you know that I would do the same for you."
	
"Yes, I do," she answered him softly. "I always did." Her eyes waited, daring
and pleading for him to answer. Words were sitting on the tip of his tongue.
He swallowed but couldn't say anything. Scully gave an almost imperceptible
nod and opened the door. "I'll see you tomorrow."

* * * * * 

May 23
Courthouse, downtown Washington D.C.
10:00 a.m.

	
"Your Honor, the defense wishes to call to the stand Miss Christann Drumel."
	
"Objection, your honor!" Spotnitz's voice cut through the air. Mulder jumped
involuntarily, turning to stare at the other lawyer. Morgan covered up his
surprise as quickly as he could. "May we approach the bench?" Spotnitz asked.
The judge nodded. The two lawyers stood side by side, speaking in a low and
muffled tone. Scully leaned forward. 
	
"What are they doing?" she whispered in Mulder's ear, sending a little shiver
down his spine. 
	
He shook his head. "I don't know." Christann was fidgeting nervously, her foot
tapping impatiently against the floor.
	
It seemed like forever before they finished their debate. Morgan turned and
went back to his desk, looking satisfied. He leaned down to speak with Mulder.
"Spotnitz wants to get you on the stand first. He says that Christann should
only be called in the event that you are found innocent, but the judge sided
with me. I think it's because of what happened yesterday."
	
Mulder raised an eyebrow. "Wonder lawyer."
	
Morgan eyed Christann, giving her a reassuring glance. Christann swallowed and
walked to the witness stand. Mulder found himself shifting in his seat,
leaning forward. He was nervous and afraid for Christann. 
	
"Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth,
so help you God?"
	
Christann's hazel eyes were flashing. "I do."
	
Morgan approached her. "Miss Drumel, would you give us a brief synopsis of
your childhood?"
	
Christann straightened her shoulders. "I was found in Michigan when I was
four, and placed in the foster care system."
	
"Did you have any recollection of what happened in the first four years of
your life?"
	
"I did not."
	
"And what happened after that?"
	
"I ran away when I was twelve."
	
"Why?"	
	
"I was being treated for epilepsy and I started having personality lapses. My
foster parents wanted to take me to a mental institution because of some of
the things that I would say at those times, so I ran away."
	
"Would you elaborate on the personality lapses, please?"
	
"At times I would have seizures, which of course would be connected to the
fact that I am an epileptic. But during and after the seizures, I would yell
about someone being taken from me, and about someone doing something to me.
Then I would fall into a deep sleep and awaken with no recollection of what I
had just said." 
	
"What happened after you ran away?"
	
"They found me and put me in another foster home. I ran away again and
continued to do so until I was fifteen."
	
"What happened when you were fifteen?"
	
"I started to have dreams- I would dream the things that people said I was
yelling about during my lapses. Except this time I would remember. About the
same time I went to have a physical and my doctor noticed something suspicious
about my DNA. The day after the visit he was found dead and my foster parents
died in a car accident on the way home. I was at home at this time when I
noticed several forms outside, dressed in black. I called the police but ran
out of the house when the intruders entered. I contacted one of my friends and
she took me to another state."
	
Spotnitz was fidgeting agitatedly. "Objection, your honor," he called out, a
frown forming on is face. "What does Christann Drumel's history have anything
to do with the charges against Agent Mulder?"
	
"Sustained," the judge answered before Morgan even had a chance to speak.
Mulder bit his lip. This was not good. 
	
The look in Morgan's eyes proved that he felt the same way. He pondered his
options for a moment. "Miss Drumel, what happened on the date of May 18th?"
	
"I was working at the restaurant when suddenly three men entered."
	
"Did you recognize them?"
	
"Yes; they were the same men that had broken into my house when I was
fifteen."
	
Morgan shot Spotnitz an ugly look. "Had the counsel allowed you to continue,
would you have confirmed that these men had been chasing you for some time?"	
	
"Yes."
	
"Why didn't you go to the police?"
	
"I tried to once, but somewhere in the records there was a report that I had
escaped from a mental institution."
	
'Was that report true?"
	
"No, it was not, but it was enough for no one to believe me whenever I went to
the police."
	
Morgan was starting to pace around, his eyes casually focused on the floor in
front of him. "Let's go back to the day in the restaurant. What happened after
they came in?"
	
"I recognized the men, and started to run. They followed me. I heard shots
just as I was running out."
	
Christann told her story calmly and impassively, but her eyes were bright and
agitated and intense. Telling her story with such conviction made her look
just like Mulder. Scully watched her with a deepening admiration and remorse.
	
"What happened after you ran out of the restaurant?"
	
Christann's eyes flickered to the agents for a moment. "Someone grabbed me
from behind and hid me in a warehouse until the men disappeared."
	
"Do you recognize the man who saved you?"
	
Christann nodded. "It was Agent Mulder."
	
"And then..."
	
"I woke up the next morning at the house of a - " a little bit of pain
flickered in her eyes, " - friend. He told me that I had come to his house and
had a seizure."
	
"And you bought a plane ticket to Kansas under a pseudonym."
	
"Yes."
	
"Why?"
	
"Because I figured that maybe if I went away and kept my mouth shut then the
men would leave me alone."
	
"When did you see my client again?"
	
"That day, he and his partner came and tried to get me to tell the story of
what I remembered."
	
"And did you?"
	
"No. I knew they would be killed."
	
"Go on."
	
"That night, " Christann took a deep breath as she began to recollect the
horror of that time, "I couldn't sleep, so I went to the coffee shop across
from the building. When I returned, I saw the men coming out of the building.
I ran upstairs, but Joel was dead."
	
Morgan snatched up a pile of papers that were lying on his desk. "Three people
confirmed that Miss Drumel entered the coffee shop at 11:53 p.m.; and those
three people also confirmed that they saw a black car speed away from the
apartment several minutes later, as she was leaving. Joel Resin's neighbor
places the gunshot that she heard at 11:56. The police arrived at midnight,
and found that the unregistered weapon had been left at the scene. They
concluded that Joel died within moments of the gunshot."
	
Christann swallowed visibly at that, but covered her grief as quickly as it
had appeared. Spotnitz was regarding the scene with an annoyed look.
	
"Your honor," he said, "please, what does this have to do with the matter at
hand? Unless I am mistaken, the matter is the accusations against Agent
Mulder."
	
"Your honor, I am merely establishing what happened on the mentioned date from
the point of view of the girl that led my client into this affair in the first
place." The judge gave Morgan the nod. Spotnitz gave a loud and very annoyed
sigh.
	
"Where did you go after you left the apartment, Christann?"
	
"I went to Agent Mulder's apartment. I don't remember much- I think I was in
shock. He took me to the home of his partner. I fell asleep, and a little
while later Agent Scully woke me up because the men had come back. We managed
to get away and met Agent Mulder near New York."
	
"And what happened in New York?"
	
"Agent Mulder put me through hypnosis, in which I remembered some things about
my past. They informed me that I had remembered tests in which Senator Benton
Williamson was involved."
	
Spotnitz opened his mouth, but Morgan beat him to it. "In case the counsel
thinks that it is necessary to have Christann out through hypnosis again to
verify the information, we call to the stand Doctor Heitz Werber-"
	
"Objection, counsel has the right to cross examine the witness!" Spotnitz
snapped. "Sustained," agreed the judge, banging his gavel to quiet the sudden
outpour of voices. 
	
Christann's chin jutted out and her gaze hardened with anger as Spotnitz
approached her. "Miss Drumel, you have been called to the stand to verify the
information that Mulder submitted to the papers; the accusations that Senator
Williamson blatantly denounced as they were published. You are here to prove
that they are true. Correct?"	
	
"Yes."
	
"Why are you doing this?"
	
"I would not lie to protect Agent Mulder, if that is what you are implying."
	
"That is not what I am saying. I asked WHY you suddenly decided to bring your
knowledge out. What suddenly convinced you that this was the thing to do?
Agent Mulder had already approached you once, and you refused to help him."
	
"They killed someone that I loved. I want to see that they pay."
	
"Yes, but can you IDENTIFY the men that killed Mr. Resin? The accusations that
you brought forth are against Senator Williamson. Are you saying that
Williamson killed Resin?"
	
"No. But I do remember Williamson there in my past, and that he was
specifically involved in what happened."
	
"How do you know that you even remember these things? Just based on the facts
that were told to you by a man after he hypnotized you?"
	
"They correspond with my dreams."
	
"And since when are dreams an acceptable form of proof?"
	
"Your honor," called Morgan, jumping up, "if the state wishes that Miss Drumel
be put under hypnosis again to satisfy the counsel that she actually DOES
remember these things-"
	
"Okay, let's assume that you DID remember things from your past," interrupted
Spotnitz, ignoring Morgan. "Explain to me in your own words what you
remember."
	
"I remembered that I was in a lab, along with many other women who apparently
were cloned to make me-"
	
There was an uproar when she said that, and the judge banged his gavel. Morgan
jumped at the chance, grabbing up a great manila folder. "Your honor, we have
here the DNA results analyzed by three noted specialists that prove that
Christann Drumel is the product of a cloning experiment that connects her
directly to Agent Mulder."
	
"Objection!" snapped back the other lawyer. "Defense specialists were not
examined by the state."
	
"Your honor," Morgan's voice was rising, as was the flush of his face, "it is
possible to call up all of the specialists, or the defense could simply submit
these reports as exhibit A-"
	
A shrill scream broke the through the loud voices. Scully's head whipped
around to Christann. She was slumped back in the chair, shaking violently.
Mulder half rose out of his seat but Scully placed a hand on his shoulder. He
turned to look at her, eyes bright. Her gaze was focused on Christann, her
mouth open slightly in amazement. She grabbed Mulder's hand.
	
Suddenly Christann stopped shaking, and stuck her thumb in her mouth. She
started to squirm. "NO!!!! No no no no no no please please please please An-
NIE!! Annie, make them stop!" She gave a choking gasp and her eyes flew open.
She regarded the courtroom with a blank expression. "Annie, it's me," her
voice was low and childish. She stared straight at Mulder. "You look like
Annie. Why doesn't she remember? She knows me. I don't understand." Christann
stood and walked down from the witness stand, her face pale. "The buzzing, the
buzzing, the buzzing again." Suddenly her head whipped around the other way.
"NO! Not the Bad Man. I can smell him. No no no no no no... I don't want to
forget..." she curled down, her back against the bench, her knees tucked under
her and her arms around her body, rocking back and forth. "I will NOT forget.
I will not. Annie. Her name is Annie. She said she's Samantha. She wouldn't
remember me. She's one of my mothers. I won't forget, I won't I won't. A-B-C-
D-E-F-G..."
	
A bailiff approached Christann cautiously, but as he did she yelled again.
"NO!!!!!!!!" she looked like she was having a temper tantrum, as she started
to kick. "NO!!!! Don't let me forget!!! The men there, the men. The Bad Man.
He was with his friends. Williamson. The tall man. The man with the voice that
made you believe. And the other one, with the gray eyes... Davis... Davis..."
she started to cry, her head tilting as if she could hear someone approaching.
"No, I won't forget, not this time." Her back arched up and she recoiled as if
someone had grabbed her. She writhed and suddenly fell back on her back, her
hands down hard by her sides as if she was tied down. "Annie... she started to
yell again. "It hurts it hurts please no..." Her voice died away and she
started to shake again, violently, her eyes wide open. White fluid appeared in
her mouth. Scully hurried to her side. "She's having a seizure," she called
out to the stunned crowd. "Someone call the paramed-"
	
Someone already HAD called the paramedics. They burst through the courtroom
and within moments had loaded her onto a stretcher and were hurrying away. The
courtroom was in chaos. Scully met Mulder's gaze and was shocked to see his
face, pale and drawn and terrified. She followed him and the paramedics,
ignoring whatever was going to behind her. She could hear Skinner yelling.
	
"Someone get a report on Davis! I want a location for Williamson! Make sure
he's not going anywhere!!!
	
Williamson was watching the proceedings from his calm little spot above the
courtroom. Davis and the Gray man had left some time earlier. Bottles of
liquor were strewn about, all empty. His eyes traveled calmly to the paper bag
on the chair beside him. His hands floated and reached inside, pulling out the
gun. He placed it to his head, savoring the cool calming feeling of the metal
against his flesh. He closed his eyes and his lips curved up.
	
Don't you worry, Mr. Skinner. I'm not going anywhere.
	
And he pulled the trigger.

--------
12:11 p.m.
Gibas Memorial Hospital

	
"Dammit, what the hell is taking them so long?' Scully watched helplessly as
her partner paced around the waiting area like a caged animal. She didn't say
anything. No matter what she said, he wouldn't listen.
	
A door opened and out stepped a man that simply radiated the authority, I am a
doctor. They both approached him simultaneously. The doctor sighed. "Agents
Mulder and Scu-"
	
"How is she?" Mulder interrupted him.
	
The doctor sighed and decided that maybe this was not the time to go into what
had been done and tons of medical jargon that no one, including himself, would
understand.
	
"The tumor is starting to push it's way into her brain; that and the trauma of
the experience in the courtroom triggered the seizure. She's on a respirator
and we are watching her closely; but for the most part the danger is out of
the way for now."
	
"What do you mean 'for now'?" asked Scully, glaring at the man.
	
The doctor took off his glasses and polished the lenses with the front of his
shirt. "Well, uh..." he coughed. "The tumor is malignant and is of a
substantial size. I wouldn't say she has much time left."
	
Mulder shook his head and turned away. "Can we see her?"
	
"She's in a coma-like state right now- the deep sleep that usually accompanies
the personality lapse that she experienced. But yes, you can see her." He was
motioned to Mulder, who shook his head. "BOTH of us."
	
"Oh, yes. Of course." The doctor led the two of them into Christann's room. It
was gray and unfriendly, cluttered with machines and silent except for the
beeps of the heart monitor and the respirator. The curtains had been closed
but some light did manage to peek in through the cracks. A stripe of sun was
strewn across her face, pale and drawn. She was lying unnaturally straight, on
her back with her arms flat at her sides. The doctor did not say a word, but
closed the door as he left, casting the agents in semi darkness. 
	
Mulder slid the nearest chair over by the bed and sat down, taking Christann's
hand as he did so. Scully found another chair and sat down beside him.
	
"She'll be okay," she said softly.
	
"You don't know that."
	
Scully swallowed. Please, I don't need this. That will be me soon enough. "Yes
she will. You saw her out there today. She sure as hell put that Spotnitz guy
in his place."
	
She almost shuddered at the unnatural silence that followed. "And you got what
you wanted. Skinner is after Williamson and Davis. They're whole project will
be exposed soon."
	
Mulder stared at Christann, his voice sounding far away. "I never meant for
any of this to happen. Not Christann ending up on the hospital. Not your
sister having to die along with my father. And-" his voice cracked, "I never
meant for you to give up three months of your life for me, and now your  wh-"
he stopped suddenly, pressing his lips together and squeezing Christann's
hand. Even in the darkness she could tell that he was crying. He shook his
head. "I'm sorry. I never thought that-" 
	
He didn't finish the sentence, but reached over and took Scully's hand,
pulling her closer to him. She slid over and leaned against him, resting her
head on his shoulder. The two sat in silence, watching Christann, each giving
the other secret strength, and each at loss for words.

* * * * *

5:01 p.m.

	
Davis sat in his kitchen, once again smoking a cigarette, only this time his
hand was shaking uncontrollably. Dammit, where was Williamson? They needed to
talk about a LOT of things.
	
He had heard about the Drumel girl almost as soon as she was carted off to the
hospital. He knew that the FBI was after him. They had come pounding to his
front door soon afterwards. He assured them that he would appear at the
hearing the next morning. They had taken him down for questioning. Their main
concern was where Williamson was.
	
Davis didn't know squat about where Williamson was. Under other circumstances
he might not care, but this was serious. He didn't know when he had left the
courtroom, or how much he had heard. All that he knew was that he needed to
talk about the whole situation. There needed to be SOMETHING. Davis had called
his contact in Japan. He said he would expose the Japanese involvement unless
they helped him. The only thing that he was guaranteed was safe asylum if he
could escape. 
	
Yeah, IF. With the FBI making his street their new home, he didn't think that
very likely.
	
The phone jangled, and he jumped. "Hello?" he snapped into the phone.
	
Click. He stared dumbly at the receiver. Bastards. He grabbed his coat and
quickly left the house, making his way down several blocks to a pay phone. He
glanced around and entered the booth. It wasn't long before the phone rang.
	
"Hello."
	
"I'm sorry for the precaution, Mr. Davis, but they might have tapped your
phone."
	
"Yeah. I figured as much. Now listen to me, what do you and your whole goddam
Consortium expect me to do-"
	
"Williamson is dead."
	
Davis stopped and gripped the receiver closer to his ear. "What?"
	
"He's dead." He could hear the Gray Man nonchalantly puff on a cigarette.
Arrogant bastard. "They found him in the courtroom. After we left, he watched
the rest, drank, and shot himself in a drunken haze right after Christann had
the seizure."
	
The world seemed foggy around Davis. He listened mutely to the gray man, rage
shaking him. "I told him not to do anything rash. Since he did not listen, I
would encourage you to take my advice and keep your mouth shut and sit tight."
	
Something in Davis just snapped. He slammed down the phone and hurried from
the booth, brusquely pushing people out of his way.
	
Yeah, don't do anything to rash. It's too late to say THAT, you son of a
bitch. 
	
By the time he was back home all rationality and sanity was gone. He was bent
on what he was going to do. There was no stopping it. He was not going down.
He was NOT. It was time to get out of this godawful mess.
	
And take vengeance on Mulder and Scully in the process.


* * * * * 

12:03 a.m.

	
Mulder stumbled into his apartment feeling nausea sweep over him. His head was
pounding again. He and Scully had stayed at the hospital, silently watching
Christann. He had fallen asleep, his chin resting on her head, and his mind
still numb from the events of the past couple days. She had drifted off, too,
only to awaken when the doctor re-entered, gently suggesting that it would be
better if they went home. Scully pointed out that Mulder was running a fever
again. He was too tired to argue. 
	
In the weeks to come he would curse himself for many things. He would curse
himself for not having his gun at hand. He would curse himself for not staying
at the hospital. He would curse himself for not turning on the light switch
the moment he walked in.
	
The place was unnaturally quiet, and dark. A red light was blinking furiously
from is answering machine. He didn't care. He moved blindly to the couch,
wanting nothing more than to sleep.
	
That was when it hit.
	
He heard a rustle, but before his senses could even register someone slammed
into him from behind, knocking him to the ground with a gasp. Mulder threw his
weight back, trying to fend off the attacker and fumbling for his gun,
realizing that he had left it on the table. There was a crunching pain in the
back of his scull and he fell back down again with a gasp, the world spinning
around him. He heard the door slam and lock, and then the cool feel of metal
against his neck. He was on all fours, one hand against the back of his head,
stunned and wincing.
	
"Don't move, you bastard," the man's breath was tainted with alcohol and raspy
from cigarettes. "Don't move or you'll end up with a five inch hole in your
head." He pushed his foot against Mulder's back, pinning him down to the
floor. He heard more fumbling, and the light flickered on, sending sharp pools
of stings into his eyes. He squinted and tried in vain to turn and see who it
was. In response to his efforts the foot slammed sharply into his side,
causing him to double over. The metal released the pressure from his skin and
the attacker stood. "Turn around."
	
Mulder clutched at his side and painfully rolled over and sat up. His brain
clicked as he saw the face of Luther Davis, drunk and disoriented, shortly
before the butt of the gun connected with the side of his head.
	
Pain, surprise, shock, fear... and then darkness...

* * * * * 
2:13 a.m.

	
Scully was staring at the bright red glowing of the digital clock, as the
number changed from 3 to 4. She sighed and squeezed her eyes shut, her stomach
still painfully twisted in knots, as it had been from the second that
Christann had fallen to the floor of the courtroom. Something still wrenched
at her heart as it had when she was leaning against Mulder, watching
Christann, feeling his arm around her and his chin on her head, trying to
fight the sleep that was making her eyelids so heavy... Something was still
lodged in her throat, aware of the phone, praying that it would ring, praying
that she would not have to pick it up and hear that Christann was gone.
	
The numbers of the clock blurred and muted, making her eyes hurt. She sighed
again and shifted her gaze up the the ceiling. 
	
Beside her the phone rang.
	
Her eyes snapped shut. Oh no...
	
The phone rang again, insistently. Slowly she reached over and picked up the
receiver, finding it hard to force herself to speak. "Hello?"
	
No one answered. But she could hear someone breathing on the other line.
"Hello?"
	
There was a cough, and then a raspy voice that sent shivers of apprehension
down her spine.
	
"Day- Dayna Scully?" The voice was slurred and muffled and almost inaudible,
as if he was disguising his voice. She switched on the bedside lamp and sat
up. "Yes?"
	
There was a rustle, and the caller's voice lowered. "I have someone here that
needs to see you."
	
She frowned. "Who is this?"
	
"Are you familiar with an agent named Fox Mulder?"
	
Scully's eyes narrowed. "Where is he?"
	
"I got him here... he's okay... for the time being."
	
She stood and frantically started pacing the room. "What do you want?"
	
"We'll discuss that when you get here."
	
Scully's brain was whirling and she sat down, pressing her hand against her
forehead, trying to remain calm. "Where is here?"
	
The caller gave her directions to a cabin just north and outside of Virginia.
"No police. No FBI. No one but you. Don't you dare think for one second that I
won't kill him." Something in the man's voice was steely with conviction.
Shit, she thought, panic rising, this guy is crazy.
	
"One hour,' he concluded.
	
"Wait!" she said quickly, pressing her fingertips against her forehead,
forcing herself to think clearly. "Wait, I need to talk to him. I need to know
that he's okay."
	
There was a rustle, and she heard someone breathing hard, almost painfully.
"Scully?"
	
She leaned forward and pressed the phone hard to her ear. "Mulder, what
happened? Are you okay?"
	
"Listen to me, dammit. Don't come here. Forget about me, Scully, just don't
co-" There was a thud and Scully winced when she heard him gasp. She was
flooded with rage. There was more rustling and the caller was back on the
line. "Happy?"
	
"Who the hell are you, you bastard?" she growled into the phone. "What the
hell are you DOING?"
	
"One hour. Don't try to trace the call. I'll know if you do." There was a
click confirming that he hung up. 

* * * * * 
3:27 a.m.

Scully squinted through the rain-splattered windshield into the darkness of
the morning. In front of her she could just make out a small, rustic cabin at
the end of a long dirt road. Woods surrounded the cabin from all sides. There
was a small shed next to it, which, taking into account the white propane
tanks that were lined up next to it, was a storage shed of some kind. 
	
She pulled up next to the cabin and regarded it warily, taking a few deep
breaths and trying to reassure herself that everything would be okay. Just go
in, and hear what he has to say. Get Mulder out of there and leave. She
fingered her gun for a moment, making sure it was secure, then stepped out of
the car, trying hard to think back to the hostage negotiations with Duane
Barry. They might come in handy...
	
She reached the front door of the cabin.  It had only one window that was
drawn tightly and very old. Her fingers closed around the door handle and her
other hand gripped the gun. One, two...
	
Three! She burst through the door, whipping the gun in front of her. The
moment she did so she felt someone grab her by the back of the neck and hurled
her across the room, knocking the gun out of her hand.
	
Scully felt a crushing pain in the back of her neck, followed by another when
she collided with the opposite wall. The world rocked around her as she slid
to the ground in a crumpled heap.

* * * * * 

	
She came to slowly, almost reluctantly. The first thing she felt was pain. Her
head was pounding and her body ached. She could taste blood in her mouth and
her arm was numb. She twisted her head around and realized that her wrists
were tied together around a radiator. Scully tried to sit up but every time
she moved tiny flickers of pain were sent shooting through her body.
	
Only then did she bother to take in the surroundings. The furnishings of the
cabin were sparse- a table, a couch, and a lot of boxes. The curtain of the
one window was open slightly, and a tinge of orange showed from behind,
confirming that the sun was soon to rise. A small lamp was lit on the other
side of the room, but besides that the room was dark.
	
She bit her lip and focused her attentions on the ropes, twisting her hands
around to see how they were knotted. Then Scully heard footsteps. She turned
her head just in time to see Luther Davis emerge from the other room, holding
a gun.
	
She recognized him from television and some newspaper campaigns. He was tall,
very tall, and distinguished-looking, with dark hair that was showing streaks
of gray. His face was cold and devoid of expression. His eyes were steel gray
and totally expressionless, besides the glint in them that sent shivers right
down her spine. He stopped when he saw that she had come to.
	
"Well, look who just woke up," he sneered, pointing the gun at her. He reached
over and to her surprise undid the ropes. Her hands shot out as soon as they
were free, but as they did he grabbed her wrist and twisted it hard enough for
her to gasp. "Don't play games with me, Scully," he snapped, the rancid odor
of his alcohol infested breath enough to send her reeling. "I went through the
self defense classes, too, and, trust me, I'm stronger." He let go of her
wrist and put both hands on the handle of the gun, aiming it directly at her.
Face stern, he sat down slowly. 
	
"What the hell do you want?"
	
His eyes lit up. "What do I want? I want this whole goddam charade to be done.
It wasn't my fault and it never will be. They told me that they would take
care of the girl. That they would take care of you and your partner. I only
did what the shitless Consortium told me to, and look what happens? No, I'm
afraid that you and Mulder are my one-way ticket out of here."
	
She tried to remain calm. "They're not going to negotiate."
	
He shrugged. "Then you'll have to die. Either way, I'm happy."
	
Something about his tone made her terrified. "Davis," she said slowly,
"they're not going to let you go. Put the gun do-" She stopped when he hit her
smartly across the face. She tumbled back down to the floor, her head reeling.
	
"Dammit, this isn't a game!" he growled. "Don't think for one minute that that
is going to work. Do you realize what you've done? You've ruined everything.
Lives will be shattered. The whole goddam COUNTRY will be shattered. No, the
world. People have to have something to believe in. They should believe in the
governments that do what is right for the advance of humankind."
	
Scully had her hand up to her nose, feeling the blood trickle down, anger
rising over sensibility. "You took the lives of a lot of innocent people, just
for the advancement of experiments that violate all laws of ethics, Davis."
Her eyes rose and met his with an icy gaze. "You deserve to be punished for
it."
	
He grabbed her arm and yanked her upwards roughly. "Why, so you can find a
cure for your disease and live happily ever after with your goddam partner? It
doesn't work that way. I'm not going to die with the rest of you, do you
understand me?" His voice rose and he dragged her into the other room. His
grip was iron and he pressed the gun to her temple. "Now I want you to get on
the phone and call your boss and tell him that we have a small problem here. I
want asylum to the country of my choice or you two end up dead." He pressed
the gun harder against her head. "Do it!"
	
Scully tried to ignore the fact that her insides were in absolute turmoil. She
wiped away the blood from her nose and picked up the phone, dialing the number
of the assistant director. After about six rings someone picked up. "A.D
Skinner's office, how may I help you?"
	
Scully gritted her teeth. Dammit, Holly, what are you doing there this early?
"Yes, this is Dana Scully. I need to speak with Mr. Skinner."
	
"Hold please." Holly sounded a bit, okay very, dubious. Undoubtedly she had
heard about the rather messy resignation. There were several clicks, then,
"Skinner."
	
"Sir, this-" Scully ignored the urge to gasp as Davis pressed the tip of the
gun even harder into her temple. "-this is Dana Scully. I have with me Mr.
Davis-"
	
"What? Where? Where did you find him?"
	
"Actually, he found me, sir..." she swallowed. "He's taken myself and Agent
Mulder hostage in exchange for asylum." There was a cold silence on the other
end and Scully swallowed again, closing her eyes. She heard some rustling and
whispers. 
	
"Go on, Scully. Where are you?"
	
"I'm-" She stopped when Davis shook his head. "Uh-uh. I'll call again in an
hour." He grabbed the phone from her. "And don't bother trying to trace this
call, Mr. Skinner. We in the Consortium know how to get around those types of
things." He slammed down the phone and let go of Scully's arm. The world
reeled about and she grabbed onto the side of the table to keep from
collapsing. She glared up at him fiercely. "Where's Mulder?"
	
Davis raised an eyebrow. "I thought he might need a doctor."	
	
"I need to see him, Davis." This was more of a plea than an order. Davis
shrugged and yanked her by the arm again, the gun pressing into the small of
her back, pushing her forward and causing her to stumble. He led her into
another room and threw open a door. There was a short flight of steps leading
to what seemed to be a cellar. Davis prodded her with the gun. "Go on." 
	
He took one step down when Mulder appeared out of nowhere, grabbing Davis by
the legs. Davis kicked out and fumbled with the gun, but managed to regain
control of it quickly. Not before sending Scully sprawling to the ground. As
she hit the floor she heard a gunshot, and a slam. She sat up, fighting to
regain her composure and realize what was going on. Mulder was lying in a
crumpled heap. She rushed over to him and pushed him onto his back, staring
anxiously into his face. It was flushed with a raging fever and drawn in pain.
A stain of crimson was spreading across his shoulder. From the dimly lit room
she could see that it was bleeding. She took off her jacket and pressed it to
the wound, trying to stop the bleeding. 
	
"Shit," he mumbled, "I told you not to come."
	
"You're the shrink, Mulder. You know how reverse psychology works." She
glanced around the cellar, finding nothing. She did note the bullet hole in
the opposite wall. It had gone straight through. Scully bit her lip. Remain
calm. She pulled him against her, trying to keep him warm with his head
resting on her lap. "You're going to be okay," she murmured, pressing her
fingertips against his temple gently. "You're going to be okay."
	
"They say the third time's the charm."
	
Scully ignored the fact that her nose was bleeding and brushed the hair out of
his eyes. They opened at her touch and something inside her threatened to give
way. Casting professionalism aside, she leaned over and gently kissed his
forehead. "You're going to be okay."
	
His voice was low but not totally inaudible. "I think I'm already in heaven."

* * * * * 

8:19 a.m.


Skinner stormed around the office, glaring at the phone. Various devices had
been set up all over the place; recording, tracing, analytical. They were
waiting for Davis to call. He was already ten minutes late.
	
Skinner had contacted the rest of the heads of FBI to be there to hear Davis'
statements. But he knew the future looked pretty grim. The government would
not let Davis get away just for two agents. On the other hand, Agent Mulder
had attracted quite a cult following since the trial. UFO freaks and various
abductee groups all over the country were hailing him. The fact that he was in
a hostage situation had not yet been released to the press and they planned to
keep it that way for as long as possible. There were some things that the
public did not need to know.
	
But the Mulder trial had proved quite simply that not everything could be kept
secret for long.
	
The phone rang. The people in the room hushed quickly and each hurried to
their specified job. Skinner glanced around once, making sure everyone was in
position, before reaching for the phone. 
	
"Assistant Director Skinner."
	
"Mr. Skinner, Davis here." Skinner raised his hand to signal the personnel,
who started recording the conversation. "You aren't planning on tracing this
call, are you?"
	
Turn it on, Skinner mouthed to the technicians who were tracing the call. They
nodded. "No, of course not."
	
"Good. Maybe we should get on to business."
	
"What do you want?"
	
"I want one hundred thousand dollars and safe asylum to Japan, transportation
which I will provide. That or the two agents die. And you'll never know how to
save the girl that's in the hospital."
	
Skinner leaned forward. "And you do?"
	
"As a matter of fact, yes. Tell those bureau people to weigh their options
well. I'll call back in two hours to go over the details. Agreed?"
	
One of the technicians was waving frantically to Skinner. Stretch it out, he
was mouthing. "Mr. Davis-" Skinner began. Click. Skinner stared at the phone.
"Hello? Dammit, he hung up. Where's he at?"
	
The technicians were fiddling with the computer. He's got some sort of trace
protector on the line- state of the art, but it's faulty, as if someone
switched it off. We know that he's on the northern east coast."
	
Skinner nodded. It wasn't hard to see that he got the trace protector from the
government. Damn the Consortium. "What about you?" he motioned to the
analysts. "Whaddaya got?"
	
One of the women was hunched over, pressing the earphones to her ear and
listening to the recording. "I don't hear any interference," she said,
fiddling with the switches. "Me either," agreed the man next to her. 
	
"What does that mean?"
	
"That means that he isn't in a big city- we don't hear background street
noises, other voices, nothing. That and the fact that there was a bit of
static points to the idea that he is in the country somewhere."
	
A young agent hurried into the room with a folder. "We have a report that
Agent Scully's car stopped at a gas station at 2:45 this morning."
	
Skinner grabbed the report. "Where?"
	
The agent gave the address of a station north and just outside D.C. Skinner
started fiddling with the papers. "Get me Blevins on the phone," he called to
Holly, who nodded. A moment later he picked up the receiver and heard,
"Blevins."
	
The two men spoke for several seconds. "Try to keep this quiet and find them,
Mr. Skinner," said Blevins. "There will be no negotiations over money or
asylum for this person, even if he does know how to cure the cancer."
	
"And if we don't find them in time?"
	
"Then we don't, and we'll pick up Davis at a border patrol in no time. He
won't get far. We might lose one of the agents, but that is of smaller
importance. Just do your job and try to keep this whole thing quiet."

8:25 a.m.

Scully raised her head when she heard the door open. Davis was standing in the
doorway, his gun at the ready, and his eyes adjusting to the light and noting
the two figures on the floor, one cradled by the other. "I just got off the
phone with your bureau." Scully didn't answer. One hand was still pressing the
cloth to Mulder's shoulder and the other was resting lightly in his hair.
"Your G-people don't know jackshit."
	
Scully's voice sounded strange in her ears. "I need some clean bandages right
now." Davis didn't answer. "Dammit, he's going to bleed to death! If that's
what you want you might as well just shoot the both of us right now."
	
Davis glared at her with his steely gray eyes. Without a word he turned and
started to close the door. Scully breathed a sigh of relief. "And some cold
water, too. He's running a pretty bad fever."
	
"Don't push your luck, Agent Scully." Davis banged the door shut and she heard
the bolt slide into place. Scully shook her head and shifted the cloth against
to wound. She could feel Mulder wince. "Sorry." There was no answer, and
terror rocketed through her. "Mulder?"
	
"Yeah."
	
She swallowed. "Stay with me, okay? You're going to be okay. Focus."
	
The door opened again and Davis tossed a roll of bandages into the room. He
slammed the door without a word. Scully moved carefully and picked them up.
Not great, but they sure as hell were a lot cleaner. Gently, she shifted. "Can
you sit up?"
	
He nodded feebly and she put one arm around him, helping him to lean against
the wall. In the dim light she squinted at the wound and in silence did the
best she could. When she was done she gently touched the huge bruise that was
swelling on the side of Mulder's face. "The gun?"
	
He nodded, one eye almost swollen shut, relaxing at her touch. When she let
her hand drop he cupped her face up. "Looks like the bastard didn't treat you
any better." His voice was soft as he fought to stay conscious and his eyes
lingered sadly on the stain of dried blood from her nose. The moment of silent
communion was shattered only when Mulder broke into a hacking coughing fit,
wincing at his stinging shoulder. Scully put her hand up to his face again.
"Try to get some sleep," she said softly. "He's not going to be back for a
while."
	
Mulder noted that she was huddled over. "Are you cold?"
	
It was freezing, but he was flushed with a raging fever and probably felt like
there should be a baking sun three feet above them. Scully nodded slowly and
he pulled her against him with a sigh. "What are we going to do?" her voice
came out muffled from her face being pressed against him. 
	
"We wait. They'll find us."
	
Neither was very convinced. After what had happened, would the government-
rather, the Consortium- want to find them? Probably not.
	
Scully swallowed the impending terror and panic and whispered a slow prayer in
her head, letting one hand touch the gold cross around her neck. It always had
brought them back together.
	
If being together was enough to keep them alive.

--------
9:57 a.m.

The Cancer Man was sitting in the dark room, looking around at the people that
were seated around the round table. The Well Manicured Man was sitting back in
a plush velvet chair, regarding the scene with ease. The Cancer Man spoke.
	
"Well, gentlemen, this-" he flicked some ash off his shirt, "turn of events
has left us all rather stunned. I believe that now is the time to decide where
our loyalties lie." There was a ripple of chuckles through the room when he
said this. Everyone knew that there were no loyalties, and never would be. The
Well Manicured Man folded his hands across his lap and spoke with his smooth
easy accent.
	
"You mean whether we should help Davis or not." The men in the room all turned
and looked at him. "I think, gentlemen, that it is time to get rid of the
evidence. The Project has been exposed to a certain degree. The main witness
is ill with a sickness that only the people in this room know how to cure. Of
the two agents, one will be gone soon enough and the other will probably have
nothing else to live for. Davis is evidence. He has admitted to the Project.
We should break off all contact with him immediately."
	
The Cancer Man looked slightly taken aback. "Yes, but-" he puffed on the
cigarette, "how can we just leave him there?"
	
The Well Manicured Man raised his eyebrow at hi colleague, exercising his
authority to the fullest. "He is already using the trace protector on the
phone in his cabin, correct?" When he nodded, the Manicured man continued to
speak, "Well, get rid of it. Let the FBI go in and do their job. We can't try
to protect him any longer."
	
There was a long silence, and presently the Cancer Man stood. As he headed
mutely for the door, the Well Manicured Man called out his name. He turned.
"Someone else knows about this," he said. "You know her. She works with the
U.N."
	
The Cancer Man was truly taken aback. "Marita? Marita Covarrubias?"
	
"Ye-es." The Well Manicured Man flexed his hands. "She knows more than she
should."
	
"She has proven to be of great help-"
	
"You yourself said that Mulder doesn't trust her. And the Project is falling
apart, and she was a part of it." When there was no answer the Well Manicured
Man adopted his authoratative voice. "You know what to do."
	
The Cancer Man swallowed and pretended to suddenly take great interest in the
cigarette he was holding in is hand. "Yes, yes I do."
	
The Well Manicured Man leaned back and relaxed. "Good. Make sure it is done
better than with the Drumel girl." His voice had a certain edge to it, and he
stared icily at his colleague. "And don't let your personal connections get in
the way of your place in this Consortium."
	
The Cancer Man left without a word.
	
He was supposed to get rid of Marita. But he wouldn't do it himself. He picked
up the phone that was in the dimly lit hall. "Find Alex Krycek."

* * * * *
10:36 a.m.

Skinner motioned to the man sitting at the desk and picked up the phone.
"Skinner."
	
"Well Mr. Skinner have you made any arrangements?"
	
"I don't recall being given any orders to arrange."
	
"What about the money?"
	
Blevins pushed Skinner roughly aside and grabbed the phone. "Davis, this is
Blevins."
	
"I don't believe I have had the pleasure of meeting you."
	
"Listen, Davis, we are going to need more time in order to get this ready-"
	
"Don't toy with me, Blevins. I want one hundred thousand dollars and granted
asylum, and transportation which I will arrange. That or you have two dead
bodies here and a bigger national scandal then already thought of. Do you
think all of those alien abductees will be happy that the FBI allowed one of
their own, a martyr, to be killed?"
	
There was a scuffle and one of the men jumped up and started flipping switches
rapidly. Skinner turned around. "Five seconds to location," one of the men
hissed. Skinner frowned. Hadn't the phone line had a tracing security on it?
	
"I'll give you five hours in order to get the money and the papers together."
	
Blevins frowned. "Davis! Davis?! Shit, I lost him."
	
One of the men shook his head. "It's okay. I think we got a location. He's in
a pretty sparsely populated area."
	
"What happened to the tracing security?"
	
"It disappeared, just like that." The man stared at the screen, listening to
the anxious beeps. "Hold on-" he grabbed at a paper that the computer spit out
and rattled off an address. Blevins nodded. "Let's get people there on the
double."
	
Skinner stormed around the room, shouting orders. Blevins stopped him.
"Skinner," he said, "You are in charge of this and I want you to remember on
thing. This man is involved in a national scandal. I want him in unharmed. You
can't prosecute a dead man. Don't just storm in there. Don't forget he's
holding two of your own as hostages."
	
Skinner nodded. 

--------
11:08 a.m.

Scully was jolted awake when next to her Mulder lurched forward. She blinked
the sleep out of her eyes just in time to see him in the corner of the room,
doubled over and making retching sounds. She rushed to his side and was
shocked to see he was spitting up blood. When he was finished she helped him
away, one arm around him so he wouldn't collapse. He sank to the floor again,
leaning against her.
	
He was burning up. Scully felt a stab of fear in her heart. He HAD to get to
the hospital. He was exhausted, dehydrated, and terribly ill. The gunshot
wound had started to bleed again. Suddenly he started throwing up again. When
he was finished she slid his head onto her lap and placed a steady hand on his
forehead. His eyes were glassy he started to cough. She squeezed his hand
gently. 
	
After a long time there was silence and Scully said softly, "Did Davis give
you a drug to get you over here?"	
	
Mulder frowned. "I don't know. I don't remember." His speech was weak and
slurred and so low she could barely hear him.
	
If Davis did give him something to conk him out, this was probably his
reaction. Throwing up blood was not a good sign.  Sighing, she gently pushed
his hair back with her fingers and leaned over him. 
	
Please please please please please someone get us out of here...
	
"Scully?"
	
"Yes?"
	
"What keeps you hanging around?" His eyes were closed to she could not see
what he was thinking.
	
She absentmindedly touched Mulder's cheek, gingerly touching the bruise under
his eye. "I want my life to mean something to somebody."
	
He opened the one eye that he could and looked up at her blearily. She hadn't
really answered the question, but this was one of those things that went
without saying. One of those things that you can't really express with words.
	
As Mulder's hand closed gently over her wrist something ran through her body
that knocked her head into dizziness. A sick fear embedded in her stomach and
she fought to breathe. It went away as quickly as it had came, the only
evidence that it left was yet another warm nosebleed. 
	
Oh God oh God they are coming so much more often now...
	
She wiped it away hastily and then did she notice that Mulder was staring
intently at her face. His fingers twined with hers and she gave a little
smile. 
	
"You're going to be okay," she repeated softly for what seemed to be the
hundredth time. His eyes fluttered shut again. "Yeah. I know we'll be fine."

* * * * * 
11:21 a.m.
	
Davis frowned, pacing around the room. Something was wrong. He couldn't place
what it was, but SOMETHING was out of place. Something was nagging him. He
picked up the phone and dialed a number, on an impulse. And listened. His face
grew red. He threw down the receiver and swore. "DAMMIT!!! DAMN THE
BASTARDS!!!!"
	
He kicked hard at the table and knocked over a lamp in a process. He didn't
care. "DAMN THEM! NO GOOD DOUBLE CROSSING SONS OF BITCHES!"
	
They had left him. They had let the FBI trace the call. Davis' voice was
ragged and hard to control. He swallowed and looked around the room
frantically, not knowing what to do. The FBI would be here any second now. He
grabbed the gun and slammed the door to the basement open. He stormed down the
stairs, ignoring Mulder and grabbing Scully roughly by the arm, jabbing the
gun into her side. Mulder started to rise. Davis slung an arm around Scully's
waist. "Don't move," he warned. 
	
Scully was watching Mulder with a pleading gaze. "Mulder," she said softly.
Davis gave her a shove and pushed her back up the stairs. "We're going to the
other cabin, my dear," he said. "I'm getting the hell out of here."
	
Scully tried to stay calm. "What other cabin?" 
	
"The cabin on the other side of the ridge a half a mile from here. I can
figure out what to do with you from there and contact my colleagues." Scully
shut her eyes when he pushed her roughly out the door and slammed the bolt,
leaving Mulder pounding on it from the other side. "Shut the hell up!" Davis
yelled, pushing Scully towards the door. "Move."
	
Scully had just about reached the door when she heard noises outside. Davis
stopped and glanced out the window. "Shit," he muttered. His eyes were wild
and bloodshot. He grabbed Scully around the waist in an iron grip and cocked
the gun, shoving it to her temple once again. Out of the corner of her eye she
could see the FBI vans and the agents jump out and position themselves. Before
they could come too close Davis flung the door open and pushed Scully out
ahead of him, the gun still at her head. 
	
"If one of you arrogant bastards move you can say goodbye to your friend
here," he bellowed, squinting in the sunlight. Scully could see Skinner
crouched behind one of the cars. Somewhere from behind another car a hostage
negotiator was yelling over a megaphone. "Put the gun down, Mr. Davis! We can
help you-"
	
"Like hell I will!" he screamed at them. Suddenly Scully was struck by a
harsh, sharp smell that coated the air. It smelled almost like gasoline. Her
thoughts were shattered when Davis yelled some more things and threw her back
inside the house. She hit the wall hard and shook her head to clear it. Davis
was aiming the gun at her. The phone rang. 
	
"DAMN IT!" screamed Davis. "What the hell do they think that they are doing?"
He wildly snatched up the phone.

"Davis, this is Assistant Director Skinner. Let me talk to Scully."
	
"It doesn't work that way, Mr. Skinner," snapped Davis.	
	
Skinner was trying to listen to the negotiator and Davis at the same time.
"How do I know that Agent Mulder is alright?"
	
Davis practically threw the phone at Scully and jabbed the tip of the gun into
the base of her neck. "Talk," he ordered her. Scully swallowed. 
	
"Sir?"
	
"Scully, are you okay?"	
	
"I'm- I'm fine, sir." Her knees where quaking. "But Agent Mulder is very sick
and he's been shot. He-" she glanced at Davis. "He needs to get to the
hospital."
	
"Agent Scully, I want the two of you to sit tight and-"
	
Davis wretched the gun away from Scully. "No more time to chit chat," he
snapped. "What the hell is going on with the deal?"
	
Scully was pressed so hard near the phone that she could here Skinner on the
other end. "How do we know that we'll get them back alive?"
	
"Take my word for it, you son of a bitch," snapped Davis. He pushed Scully
away and pointed to the couch. She sat down slowly. Davis was listening to
them on the other end, still training the gun on her, his finger resting on
the trigger. He had long since broken through the line of sanity. He listened
to the person on the other end. "One," he said finally. "But one stays. And
when I get one out of here, then you and your little squadron move down a
mile." He listened for a while longer, then snapped, "NO! One. And I swear to
hell that you can kiss goodbye any thoughts of saving the other or the girl if
I look out the window and see you still here. One mile. Do you hear me?" One
moment later he slammed the phone down. "Get up," he snapped at Scully.
	
She did not move. "What did you mean by that, Davis?" she asked quietly.
	
"What?'
	
"You said that if they don't comply then there is no way that Christann could
be saved." He stared at her without a word, but his eyes were slightly
confused. "Do you know how to cure the cancer?"
	
His face twitched. "Get up."
	
Her face crumpled slightly and her voice escalated. "Do you know how to cure
the cancer???"
	
"Shut up!" He ordered. "Shut up!"
	"
DO YOU?!"
	
"I said shut the hell up!!!" Scully fell silent, but her eyes were daggers.
"I'm letting one of you go," Davis continued. "You can choose who gets to go.
You have fifteen minutes." He pulled her hard by the arm back to the door that
led to the basement. He slid the bolt out of place and steadied the gun, just
in case Mulder chose to fly at him again. He opened the door and pushed Scully
inside. "Starting now."
	
Mulder looked up when she entered and stood shakily. He was slouched by the
stairs. The wound was bleeding profusely again, through the bandage. Scully
took one step and almost fell. The ground was swaying around her. Mulder
caught her. "Are you okay?" he whispered into her hair. 
	
"I'm fine, Mulder," she barely managed to force out the words, sinking down to
the floor. She put her head down and took a couple of deep breaths before
raising it again. She looked at him, close to her, his breathing forced and
ragged, leaning against the wall, weak and tired. "He's letting one of us go."
	
Mulder didn't answer immediately. He watched her face carefully for several
seconds, as if trying to read her thoughts. "I'll stay." His voice cracked at
the effort to speak.
	
She shook her head hard, just as he knew she would. "No you won't. Look at
you. You need to get to the hospital. You-"
	
"I'm not leaving, Scully," he replied flatly, closing his eyes.
	
"Neither am I." They stared at each other for several moments. "He'll kill you
if you stay."
	
"He'll do the same to you. The man is crazy."
	
"Does it matter?" she replied almost too instantly. "I don't have much longer,
Mulder. The nosebleeds are coming a lot more frequently than before-" His face
twisted and she knew that she was hurting him. She was about to continue when
he broke into another coughing fit that left him half lying on the floor. When
he was finished she gently brushed the hair out of his eyes. He sighed and
weakly leaned his head against her. "You have so much to live for, Mulder, now
that the Truth is revealed..." Something was threatening to explode within
her. Idiot, idiot, tell him...
	
"They don't care about me, Scully." He sounded like a little kid. "They never
did. They always wanted to shut me down. Even my family..." he stopped that
sentence and bit his lip. "Who do you think the FBI would rather have back?
You or me?"
	
"This isn't about them, Mulder," she whispered fiercely. "And we don't know
what Davis is going to do. You know more about your sister now. Christann
needs you. They need someone to lead this whole crusade. It's got to be you."
She absentmindedly stroked his hair. "I'll be okay."
	
"I'm not leaving you here, Scully," his voice was weak and he fought to stay
conscious and keep down the coughing. "I won't."
	
A loud silence followed, the void of words almost hammering in Scully's ears.
They sat huddled together, Scully still stroking his hair. She didn't even
realize how long they had been sitting like that when suddenly Mulder lifted
his head and stared at her with his good eye. "Scully, I-"
	
The door banged open, startling her. Davis entered the room. "Well?" he barked
impatiently. "Who's it gonna be?"
	
"I'm staying," Scully said quickly. Mulder shot her a look and shook his head.
"No-"
	
"Mulder," she said softly, "I'll be okay. I promise."
	
He stared back at her, pleading. "I'm not leaving," he whispered hoarsely. "I
don't care-"
	
Davis gave him a hard shove and yanked him up. "Let's go." Mulder suddenly
hurled himself at the man. Davis was caught off guard but when Mulder started
coughing again he easily pushed him away. "Dammit, let's move!" Davis was all
rage now, and it showed in his voice and eyes. Mulder didn't move.
	
"Mulder- please," Scully gave him a look and willed him with her eyes. "Do
this for me." It was like the two of them knew that it took much more courage
to leave than to stay.
	
Mulder watched her feebly, squinting since the cut under his eye had reopened
and was bleeding. He looked as if he was about to break down. Balancing
himself against the wall, he stood, his eyes never leaving Scully's face.
Davis kicked at him impatiently. 
	
Scully's voice broke. "Mulder-" Quickly she reached up and undid the clasp of
the tiny gold necklace around her neck. She pressed it quickly into his hand.
	
Whatever answer she wanted she read in his eyes.
	
But it wasn't until the door was kicked shut and she heard the bolt slide into
place that she started to cry, panicky sobs that threatened to tear her apart.

* * * * * 
11:40 a.m.

Skinner squinted when he saw the front door to the cabin open and Mulder was
shoved out. Even from the distance he could see the crimson across his
shoulder and he was so ill he could barely walk. 
	
They waited until he managed to stagger about twenty feet from them before
moving forward with the stretcher. An ambulance screeched to a halt twenty
yards down the path. It stopped only long enough for Mulder to be pushed
inside, and then taking off back down the path.
	
He could hear Davis yelling, and whipped back around. "MOVE DOWN ONE MILE!" 
	
The negotiator held up the megaphone and yelled back in his monotonous,
patronizing voice. "Now Davis-"
	
"DAMMIT TO HELL!" He came out, shaking all over, brandishing the gun. "Do you
even notice what is all along the ground! Gasoline, dammit!!!! I'm giving you
three seconds-"
	
"Shit, the man is insane..." the agent next to Skinner tightened his finger on
the trigger. Skinner shook his head. "No! He's not to be harmed-"
	
He stopped when Davis suddenly lit a match with a flourish and tossed it,
igniting a thin path that had been methodically coated with gas. The licking
flames rolled across the ground and then flared up across a circle roughly ten
feet wide. The circle included one of the vans. Screams were emitted and
agents swarmed about to help their colleagues. Two shots rang out and everyone
ducked down, though two agents simultaneously dropped to the ground. The
agents ran forward to try to stop the blaze. At that moment Skinner's phone
rang.
	
"Hello..."
	
"This is Blevins. Dammit, get outta there."
	
"How can we-"
	
"I said get out of there! We have our orders, Skinner, and one of them is the
explicit order not to have Davis harmed. He needs to be prosecuted. Move down
one mile."
	
"But we-"
	
"Get your men outta there, now. There's no sense in pushing this. Move down a
mile. We'll get in professionals to try to talk him out of it."
	
Skinner dropped the phone when someone yelled, "It's gonna blow!!" He looked
up just in time to see the van explode. There were yells and he ducked away
from the flying debris. The fire was still smoldering in the gasoline-coated
areas but the damp ground did not let in spread. Two of the agents that were
in the van were lying on the ground, moaning, their legs singed. Small swarms
were around those that had fallen when Davis pulled the trigger. Sirens could
be heard in the distance, getting louder. 
	
Skinner shook his head. "Move down one mile!" he yelled.

* * * * * 

May 25th
Gibas Memorial Hospital
2:25 p.m

	
Mulder awoke to the steady beeps of machinery next to him. It took several
moments to realize that he was in the hospital. His shoulder was sore and his
head throbbed, but compared to what he had been feeling for the passed couple
of days, he felt fine. 
	
That was when he saw all of the guards outside his door and it all came
flooding back. 
	
Davis... Christann... Scully...
	
His eyes widened. Oh crap.
	
What had happened? He forced himself to think clearly. He could remember Davis
hitting him. He could remember pounding on the door and the fear that had
gripped him when Davis had dragged Scully outside. He could remember leaning
against her, sick and scared, trying to stay conscious. And he could remember
her saying, "He's letting one of us go..."
	
Oh, Lord. 
	
A doctor entered the room. "Agent Mulder," he said pleasantly, "it's good to
see that you are up again."
	
"What happened?" he asked hoarsely.
	
The doctor flipped through the charts. "Well, you hadn't been receiving enough
sleep. That combined with the stress of what was going on contributed to your
illness. And then there was the gunshot wound- we patched that up pretty well,
and you'll need to rest for a while considering you've lost quite a bit of
blood. And then your reaction to the drug. We found a combination of morphine
and some depressants in your bloodstream..." the doctor rattled off a list of
medical terms. "We gave you enough anesthetic to conk you out for quite a
while while your body was recuperating. You came too briefly a couple times
during the night."
	
Mulder shifted weakly, trying to wake up fully. The pain that made him wince
told him he had a bruised rib. "What is the date today? How long have I been
here?"
	
"It's the 25th of May; we brought you in midmorning yesterday."
	
That long? Oh God, what had happened?
	
"What happened when I was unconscious? Did they bring Davis in?" The doctor's
back stiffened and he did not look Mulder in the eye. "Agent Mulder, what you
need now is rest."
	
Something in his tone struck Mulder to the core. "What is it? What happened?"
The doctor pursed his lips. "Dammit, tell me!" he cried frantically. "Is it my
partner? Is she here? Is she okay?" He stared agitated at the doctor, who
still did not answer.
	
"Agent Mulder," he said gently, "I think what you need now is your rest. It'll
be back in a while to check on you. I'll inform the FBI that you are awake."
	
He walked out of the room without saying anything more. 

* * * * * 

Somewhere outside D.C.

	
No no please not now... The darkness was terrifying, terrifying and cold. She
clenched her fists together and blinked away the tears, feeling the sudden
bursts of dizziness rocket into her head. She tried to think calmly,
analytically. Like a doctor. Deep breath. It's the fear. It's not the tumor.
It's too soon. Calm down. Deep breath.
	
A sharp pain in the side of her head made her wince and suddenly she couldn't
breathe. A low strangled noise was emitted from her throat and she tried to
stare through the fog. Her wrists hurt. A lot. She was tied to something. It
didn't matter. She wasn't in the basement anymore. She remembered crying,
fighting, a sting and then darkness slowly fading in, while somewhere outside
a huge burst of orange and yellow, shooting sparks out everywhere...
	
The dizziness subsided a bit and she swallowed and counted slowly to ten. The
fits never lasted long, though they were becoming frequent and more intense.
But the doctor had said...
	
Mulder, where are you? Why had you let me stay. I can't- I can't do this on my
own... please don't leave me...
	
The world spun again, and Scully lurched forward, seeing drops of blood both
from her nose and her mouth on the floor. When she looked up she could see
Him, marching around and muttering to himself, sometimes talking on the phone,
sometimes rocking back and forth, waving the gun. Something bit was next to
her foot. Big and bulky. It smelled.... like gasoline...
	
She threw up again, and the sharp pain in her head escalated. 
	Mulder please...

* * * * * 

Gibas Memorial Hospital
6:15 p.m

	
"Fox... Fox, wake up..." he felt someone gently touch is arm and jolted
upward. "Scu-"
	
The pain in the other's eyes made him cover up his mistake quickly. "Mrs.
Scully."
	
The older woman smiled gently. "You seemed to be having a bad dream."
	
He looked around. "Yeah, I... I don't know..."
	
She took his hand and Mulder smiled gratefully. "How is Christann?"
	
Maggie Scully didn't look at him. "She's okay. Better. She came out of the
sleep and the doctors think-" she took a deep breath, "that she will be okay."
She squeezed his hand again.
	
"Thank God." His voice was low and still hoarse. "Mrs. Scully-"
	
She looked up at him and he knew that something was wrong. "What is it?" he
asked, fearing the worst. 
	
Her lower lip trembled, reminding him so much of her daughter that it hurt.
She covered their hands with her other one and looked earnestly into his face.
"Fox... Dana is dead."
	
All of his worst fears came rushing into his face hitting him like a ton of
bricks. He tried to speak but found that he couldn't. He stared dumbly into
her face and in the distance could hear her go on, sounding so far away...
	
"Davis called about three hours after you left. He was hysterical, crazy, and
he said that he-" she squeezed her eyes shut, "that she tried to fight him,
and he pulled the tr-" Maggie Scully pressed her lips together in order to
regain composure. "The team went when they saw smoke and found the cabin was
burned to the ground. They have been combing the area but can't find any sign
of Davis. They did find an extra bullet casing." She was squeezing his hands
now so hard that her knuckles were turning white. "You- had this in your
pocket..." she reached into her own and slowly pulled out the tiny gold chain
and cross.
	
Only when Mulder saw that did his intentions fail and his face crumple. His
lungs threatened to explode and he could feel his world and life crumble away
before his feet. He covered his face with his hands and sobbed, mind whirling.
He could hear Mrs. Scully crying next to him, and he knew that it was all
over.

* * * * * 

"She's gone." The Cancer Man tried hard not to choke on the smoke that he was
inhaling when he heard Alex Krycek's voice. 
	
"So, uh, soon?"
	
"Yeah, isn't that what you wanted?"
	
For the first time in so long the Cancer Man felt something inside of him- was
it remorse? He shook his head and switched the phone from one hand to the
other. "I suppose you would like some payment for your services."
	
There was no answer. 
	
"Mr. Krycek?"
	
"Do you remember," Krycek said softly, "do you remember what I told you after
I watched my car go up in flames?"	
	
The Cancer Man's breath caught up in his throat. "Surely-"
	
"I said, 'If I so much as feel your presence, I am going to make you a very
very famous man.'"
	
"Mr. Krycek-"
	
"I thought I could let that slide. Until I was left to die in a room filled
with black oil. Do you have any idea-" he paused effectively every couple
words, "how it feels, to have that stuff kill you slowly?'
	
The Cancer Man was finding it hard to force his voice into his throat. He
heard a noise, and saw that the other men where entering the room. "Uh, yes,
yes thank you."
	
Krycek did not seem flustered by this turn of words. "So the only payment that
I will be seeking is to fulfill that promise that I made." There was a click
as Krycek hung up, and the Cancer Man was astounded to see that he was
shaking. He swallowed and tried to cover up his fear.	
	
"Uh, yes, thank you. I will be sure to- report that to the group. Yes, thank
you very much." He hung up the phone and turned to meet his colleagues'
quizzical gazes. "I just received word that our UN. contact has been disposed
of as was asked."
	
The Well Manicured Man started studying his fingernails. "And?"
	
"And that the FBI just received word that Agent Scully is dead. Davis killed
her."
	
There was a ripple of surprise and the Cancer Man was relieved that he had
found out before anyone else. 
	
"Well," said the Well Manicured Man pleasantly, "it seems that Davis has been
helping us in more way than one."
	
A stout man with a pouty lip and deep, slurred speech that reminded on of a
gangster queried, "How long do you give Agent Mulder?"
	
The Well Manicured Man frowned. "A month. Maybe two." Once again the Cancer
Man felt a light ripple of remorse run through him.  
	
"Have we made the deal with Japan?"
	
"Yes. They have agreed to drop contact and deals with Davis in exchange for
the flight coordinate patterns of Flight 549."
	
The Well Manicured Man nodded. "Give it to them.  If Davis is still alive, he
will be found soon enough, but we don't want him accidentally escaping
anyway."

* * * * * 

	
Davis paced the room wildly, ignoring the woman that was tied and gagged on
the floor. She had thrown up a couple times and he had barely noticed. He
paced around and his eye kept falling on the gun that was lying on the table.
The phone rang and he snatched it up.
	
"What?" he snarled. His face grew pale. "What? What?! Don't you- hello?
hello!" He slammed the phone down and in desperation yanked the cord from the
wall. He sank to the musty old couch, covered with plastic, and put his head
in his hands, rocking back and forth. "This is not happening, this is NOT
happening..."
	
The woman on the floor stirred. Suddenly her body convulsed in short spasms.
Her eyes popped open and he could see blood on the floor next to her. Low
whimpers of pain could be heard through the gag. "I'm sure it hurts, doesn't
it," he spat out at her. She turned her head and her blue eyes, bright with
pain, were tearful. "I'd be glad to let you know how to get rid of it. I'd be
willing to save all of those like yourself. But do you know what they just
did?" He stood and walked over to her, his figure looming above her small
frame. "They let me go. They DITCHED me. Is this how you felt when your
partner did the same to you? Is this how you feel NOW? Oh, he was a selfish
bastard to leave you here like that." He shook his head and turned away. Fear
in Scully's body was slowly replaced by rage. Pure and terrible rage. She
never knew she could feel as much hate as she did then. The spasms stopped and
the pain in her head subsided a bit. Davis turned on his heel and regarded
her. "You're thirsty, aren't you? I'll bet you are." He reached down and
ripped the gag from her mouth. "Scream all you want. No one will hear you."
Moments later he tipped a cup of water into Scully's mouth. She swallowed some
of it, weakly. Davis resumed his pacing. 
	
"They'll find me," she said softly. "You might as well let me go."
	
Davis let out a maddingly diabolical laugh. "Oh, they'll find you. I see. You
mean they'll find you here, of all places? No one will bother to look here.
You know why? No one knows about the cabin. All they know is that there was an
old mine over by the ridge, with enough sinkholes to get rid of a whole
squadron. They know I'm not that stupid. But they don't know about the cabin.
And you know what else they don't know?" He leered down at her. "They don't
know that you're ALIVE." His words hit her hard. "Yeah, that's right," he
whispered. "I called them. I said that you were dead. I said I shot you. I
left an extra bullet casing there. They think you are DEAD." He laughed again.
"No, Miss Scully, no one is going to find you. But I said I would have some of
my revenge, and I am. Don't you think so?" The man was fully insane now. He
plugged the phone back in. "There is still hope for me. I have a contact at
the UN. We'll see. As for you, you should just enjoy the time you have left
here."
	
Scully put her head down and she felt the jabbering voices of panic in her
mind. Was this really how it was going to end? Could it?
	
Mulder, I once thought that you were dead and you told me... you told me not
to give up hope... and I knew that you were alive... please please don't give
up on me. Don't believe what they are saying... please...

--------
8:20 p.m.

	
Scully's voice woke Mulder up with a start. He glanced around. "Scully?" There
was no one. The room was empty and dark. Mrs. Scully had left. Mulder shook
his head, glancing down at his hands. He was clutching Scully's necklace
firmly in one of them. No, he had heard her voice. He was SURE of it.
"Scully?!"
	
The door opened and Skinner entered the room. "Agent Mulder?"
	
"I heard Scully, sir. She's here... where is she?"
	
There was a flicker of grief that could barely detected on Skinner's impassive
face. "Agent Mulder, Scully is dead."
	
Mulder shook his head hard, knowing that he sounded crazy and not caring one
bit. "No sir, I heard her. She's alive. I know it."
	
Skinner sighed. "Agent Mulder-"
	
"Did you search the area? What about footprints? A trail? He has her somewhere
around there. I know it."
	
Skinner's voice tightened. "Mulder, they are checking the woods around the
cabin, and there is no sign of Davis. We heard a gunshot over the phone, and
he said that he had killed her. I know that this is hard-"
	
Something clicked in the back of Mulder's mind. "What about by the ridge?
There has to be something by the ridge."
	
"Agent Mulder, the only thing on the other side of that ridge is an abandoned
and condemned mine. The area is littered with sinkholes and openings. Davis
would be crazy to go there."
	
But Mulder was convinced. "How the hell can you give up on her, sir? I won't
let that happen. I know that she's still alive."
	
"Mr. Skinner," someone called from outside. Skinner didn't look at the agent;
he just left the room. Mulder shook his head and closed his eyes. This wasn't
right. He knew that she was alive. He was sure of it. It wasn't just a
dream...
	
His eyes flew open as his mind went back to the time that the FBI had arrived
outside the cabin. What had Davis said then? 
	
We're going to the other cabin...
	
There WAS another cabin, on the other side of the ridge. She was there. He
knew it. 
	
What to do now? They wouldn't listen to him. He was so full of conviction that
it almost blinded his ability to think rationally. He called in one of the
guards. "Is Mrs. Scully still here?" The guard nodded, and moments later
Maggie Scully re-entered the room.
	
"What is it, Fox?" she asked gently, as if speaking to him would snap him in
two.
	
"I need a phone."
	
She frowned. "What?"
	
"I need to make a phone call... Skinner has a cell phone, in his jacket. Ask
to borrow it." He stared at her. "PLEASE."
	
Her mouth twitched and within minutes she returned with the phone, closing the
door behind her. "Make it quick."
	
He nodded and dialed a number. 
	
"Gunmen," came the sad and slightly drunk voice on the other end.
	
"Frohike, it's me."
	
"Mullllldddderr! Are you okay? Did you hear?" There was a slight sob. "I'm so
sorry, Mulder..."
	
Mulder shook his head. "She's not dead, Frohike."
	
There was a pause, as it took him time to register. "What." It was a
statement, not a question.
	
"Is Langly there?"
	
"Yeah."
	
"Is he drunk?"
	
Pause. "No."
	
"Put him on the phone." He could hear rustling, then, "Yo Mulder, we heard
about what had happened and-"
	
"Yeah, listen to me," Mulder interrupted. "I need you to get me out of
here..."

* * * * * 

9:10 p.m.

	
"I tell ya, I saw 'em!" Mulder could hear Frohike's drunken voice shrieking
down the hallway. "They was big and gray, man. I'm telling ya! Don't let 'em
take me again! They's got this big machine and they take away all my videos...
" His voice cracked. "I tell ya, I saw them! Don't let 'em take me again!"
	
Mulder suppressed a smile. Oh, Lord. He waited. 
	
There was a snap, and the lights flashed off. "What the hell?" one of the
guards bellowed.  Several seconds passed, and then the fire alarm, shrill and
strong, pulsed through the hospital. 
	
"Lordy!" Frohike wailed. "They's coming for me!!!" Footsteps went pounding
down the hall, and voices shouting. Then silence.
	
There was a click, and Mulder turned his head to see the door open and Langly
stick his head in and grin. "Dude, what a show." He closed the door and tossed
some clothes at Mulder. "Put these on."
	
"What's happening?"
	
"Byers logged onto the computer system and is making the alarms on this floor
go nuts. Everyone chases Frohike and tries to figure what is going on, and we
stroll out the front door."
	
Mulder dressed quickly and shakily stood. Langly looked concerned. "You sure
you want to do this?"
	
Mulder gave him a Look.
	
The floor was in chaos. The guards had taken off after Frohike. Personnel
flooded about. "It's not a fire!" one yelled, "Stay put!" "Evacuate!" someone
else yelled. Through all of the excitement no one took much notice of Mulder
and Langly discreetly leave.
	
"We better hurry," Mulder murmured and he slid into the car that Langly had
gotten somewhere along the line. "They'll notice I'm gone soon enough."
	
As Langly pulled out of the lot something caught his eye. "It's soon," he
said. Mulder looked in the mirror just in time to see Skinner and a handful of
the guards take off after them. "Hey!" one yelled. "Stop! Federal agents!"
	
Mulder winced as Langly barely missed an oncoming car. "And to think I used to
be one of them."
	
"They might reinstate you," Langly put in helpfully. Mulder didn't answer.
	
They were chased for several blocks, but Langly knew enough twists and turns
to lose them soon enough. "Where to?"
	
"North."
	
Langly made a sharp right and noticed that Mulder looked slightly green. "Hey,
man, you sure you're okay?"
	
"I'm fine. Just drive."
	
Langly floored the accelerator and they sped back towards the cabin.

* * * * * 
10:30 p.m.

	
Mulder got out of the car and stared down at the ridge. She was somewhere
around here, he knew it. He got out of the car, and turned back to Langly. "Do
you have a phone?"
	
"Yeah."
	
"Stay here. Don't move. If something happens, don't wait for me, just get out
of here." Mulder put his hand on the side of the car to steady himself and
stared at the vast expanse of woods ahead of him. Langly handed him a piece of
paper, noting that Mulder was very pale and he still coughed occasionally. 
	
"Here's the map of the holes."
	
Mulder smiled. "What would I do without you guys?"
	
"Probably stay out of trouble."
	
Mulder shrugged. "Thanks."
	
"Yeah. Hey- be careful."
	
Mulder nodded and started carefully through the forest in search of the cabin.

* * * * * 

Scully tried to ignore the reeling in her head and the taste of blood in her
mouth. Her nose had been bleeding on and off for a long time. She was weak and
exhausted and at times consciousness seemed to be slipping away.
	
Davis was yelling into the phone. She didn't know who he was trying to
contact. Someone at the UN. An odd name- Maria or Marita. In any case, it
wasn't working, and it was making Davis frantic. Startling her, he took hold
of the phone and hurled it with all his might across the room. He snatched up
the gun, pressed it to his head, and started to babble insanely. 
	
"Theykilledhertheykilledhertheykilledherthebastards..."
	
He grabbed a lamp and threw it, hard. The pieces of sharp ceramic barely
missed her. Then, to her surprise, he tore off the bonds from her wrists. She
stared up at him, not knowing what to do.
	
"They ditched me, you know that," Davis snapped. "They even killed Marita.
Because she knew. She worked on both sides, did you know that? She was the one
that got your partner to Russia. She was his informant." Seeing the surprise
on her face, he laughed. "I see you didn't know that. So you know what it is
like to be left out. What do you think your partner was thinking when he left?
Huh?" With one hand Davis hauled up the tank of gasoline and started sloshing
the contents liberally on the floor. Then he put it down and aimed the gun at
her. "Don't be afraid, Agent Scully."
	
Scully shook her head. "Kill yourself if you want to, Davis," she croaked. "Go
ahead and pull the trigger. But you can't let so many others die in your
stead. It wasn't their fault. You know how to cure them-"
	
"You mean cure YOU?" Davis screamed. "Very funny. That's all you can think
about. I would rather to take your partner with me than you. He would deserve
it, the unlucky bastard, leaving you here like this." He reached inside his
pocket and pulled out a match. He lit it and was about to toss it down when
Scully bolted. With all of her remaining strength, ignoring the pain in her
head, she threw herself forward and Davis. Startled, the match fell to the
corner, lighting up the rug and slowly eating away at it, but not yet reaching
the part that was doused in gas.
	
She clawed for his gun, and he swore, hitting her hard across the face. She
could feel the licking flames behind her. Spots were starting to show before
her eyes and the pain in her head was so crushing that she felt she would
faint.
	
"SCULLY!"
	
Two heads turned to the doorway, and one gunshot went off. Everything froze.
Davis' back arched, a low noise was emitted from his throat, and he slid away
from Scully, falling hard on the damp floor.
	
Scully's eyes went from Davis to Mulder, who was standing in the doorway. The
smell of the gas made her head reel. Her face was pale and tear-streaked, and
the gun fell from her hands. She had killed him. The one man that knew the
Truth. The one man that knew how to save her life.
	
 Mulder stepped forward, trying to ignore the sick fear and urge to run when
he saw the fire. "Scully-"
	
Her eyes were locked on him, and her knees buckled, sliding towards the floor.
Her limbs started to shake, and at that instant, blood, not a little trickle
anymore, came gushing from her nose.
	
The flame on the carpet inched its way towards the dampened floor. Mulder
moved to her and tried to help her up. She was having a seizure. Her eyes were
drawn in pain. Ignoring the pain in his shoulder, he scooped her up in his
arms and moved to the door, forcing his legs to move, using only pure will to
save her in the place of long-drained energy.
	
As he dragged himself away from the cabin, he could feel it break out in
flames, sending a foul stench of gas into the air. Fear  gripped him, but he
ignored it, and managed to just get to the woods before collapsing. 
	
Mulder rolled over and pulled Scully over to him, trying to control the
shaking. It finally subsided but he kept his arms around her trembling body.
"Scully?" he barely could force himself to speak.
	
There was no reply and he frantically pressed his fingers to her throat,
looking for a pulse. "Scully?!"
	
She stirred and her body started to tremble. Her head turned, her hair
tickling to bottom of his chin. "I'm f-fine, Mulder." He could barely hear
her.
	
He started to move away, but she shook her head. "No," she whispered, placing
one freezing hand on his. "Just- hold me for a while, okay?"
	
Tears sprang to his eyes and he brushed his lips against her temple, feeling
her head roll back as she lost consciousness. Spots started to dance before
his eyes. The flames from the cabin illuminated the sky. In the distance he
could hear sirens, right before being enveloped by blackness. Lying on the
cold forest floor, holding his partner fifty feet away from a blazing inferno,
he lost consciousness.

* * * * * 

He couldn't breathe. He could hear beeping and voices in the background.
"OXYGEN!" someone called, and moments later air flooded his lungs. People were
yelling, and he could hear clattering, and realized that wherever he was he
was moving
	
"Seventeen oh-one."
	
"Jeeeesus, will someone get a crowbar and pry their hands apart?"
	
"Yo Joe, isn't this that FBI guy that was on the news?"
	
"Hey I found a card on him. Fox Mulder- Contact in Case of Emergency: Dana K.
Scully."
	
"Me too," someone else yelled. "Dana Scully- Contact in case of Emergency: Fox
W. Mulder. This helps."
	
"Heads up!" There was a slam, and he felt himself being lowered to the ground
with a bang. Someone shone a light in his eyes.
	
"Sir? Sir, can you hear me? You are going to be okay, we'll take good care of
you."
	
He tried to speak. The person moved away the oxygen tubes. "She- hh--" he
wheezed painfully. 
	
"What?"
	
"Cancer," he more mouthed than said. "She has cancer."
	
As soon as he had said that something started beeping uncontrollably. "She's
crashing!!!"
	
Mulder tried to raise his head but he was pushed away. He could see an IV bag
hanging in front of his face. Somewhere down the hall he heard Mrs Scully.
"What is it? What's going on? Dana?!"
	
"WE NEED A DOCTOR HERE!" They were passing Christann's room. Why were there
nurses everywhere?
	
Mulder blacked out again.

* * * * * 

May 26th
11:05 a.m.

	
Mulder stared at the gray ceiling above him. They wouldn't tell him anything.
They told him that she was alive, and that was it.
	
Skinner had come, once, awkwardly to state that they could reinstate him in
the bureau due to the course of events. He hadn't answered. He had no idea
what was going to happen now.
	
He had been there when Christann died. They said that she had felt it coming.
He had sat there and held her hand and talked with her. She wanted to be taken
off life support as soon as the pain made her black out. That was what she
wanted. It was too late.
	
"Don't cry," she had said, wiping away a tear from his cheek, "All you lose is
little old me. I have to say goodbye to you and to Scully. The two people that
truly cared. I did something that I always wanted to, deep inside. I have had
seventeen years on this earth... and I am so grateful." When he didn't answer,
she squeezed his hand. "When you find Annie, tell her thank you. Tell her that
I love her for what she did with me. She treated me like I was her true
daughter, not just some experiment." Right before life had cut the cord, she
had managed to whisper, "Don't let Scully go. Don't make the same mistake I
did with Joel. I'll be with him soon, but don't torture your feelings in this
life."
	
The pains had come then, and within moments she had blacked out. And that was
that.
	
He had lost another. If he lost Scully, then...
	
He squeezed his eyes shut. Please God, don't take her away from me. I couldn't
bear it. I couldn't...
	
The door opened. "She can see you now," a nurse in a white coat said. "Her
mother has already been with her. But she was asking for you most of the
night."
	
He had been stopped right outside the door by a doctor, who wanted to inform
him of her condition. "The cancer is very unstable now. There is no telling
what might happen; how much time she has left I also can't say. She's a
fighter, though- most would've been dead long before reaching the hospital
after that last seizure."
	
Mulder entered the room, his heart full of things that he wanted to say. It
was dark, cluttered with machines and instruments. Mrs. Scully had left a
chair pulled up next to the bed.
	
She was lying on her back, face ashen gray, tubes everywhere. He sat down
slowly, and took her small hand in his. Her eyes fluttered open, and her head
turned to meet him. "Hey."
	
"Hey." He played lightly with the skin on the inside of her wrist. "How are
you feeling?"
	
Her eyes darkened. "I feel..." she watched him with a tender look on her face,
"I feel... as if... my life has meaning."
	
That was when he made the decision. He wouldn't let them ruin his quest by
taking away the person that he loved. He was going to cure her, or die trying.
That was that. Something in her eyes struck him, and he kissed her hand ever
so gently. "Trust me, Scully. It always did."
	
Her hand turned and touched his jaw. "Ready to go on?"
	
He smiled and put his hand on hers, savoring the feeling of her touch on his
face. "Yeah. Together."

*THE END*


Hmmm... isn't it funny how a three page prediction can evolve into so much
more? Gethsemane has long since aired, and for those who want to pretend that
my prediction was more on the mark, just change the end to the doctor coming
and telling Mulder that Scully died of a self inflicted gunshot wound.
Better?!
Please tell me what you thought of this, my opus that has been slaved over for
so long. Actually, this is the first fanfic that I have ever written.
 There is no such thing as a comment that will not be appreciated. I hope you
liked it... -Talia Christine Gibas
PS- to non shippers- I tried to block out the moments, but in the words of Han
Solo, "Hey- It's me!!!" The shipper that will not go quietly into the night!!!
FM+DS 4-EVER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

COMMENTS!!! PLEASE!!!! I'm BEGGING YOU!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!   Mail Talia at-
HyperTalia@aol.com