TITLE: Peripheral Vision 
AUTHOR: Ana Vicente 
RATING: PG-13 
CATEGORY: X, A
KEYWORDS: M/S UST
SPOILERS: 3, Fight the Future, Colony, Small Potatoes. 
DISCLAIMER: The X-Files are property of Ten Thirteen Productions 
and Twentieth Century Fox Television. 
SUMMARY: When a geologist shows up dead, Mulder and Scully are forced 
to interrupt a relaxed weekend and embark in an investigation that 
may well force them to face their worst nightmares. 
FEEDBACK: To Thorn17@mailcity.lycos.com.
ARCHIVE: Just let me know about it. 
________________________________________________

                      1


Somehow, he could still feel the fibrous substance binding him to 
reality. It hindered the movements of his arms and legs and kept his 
head in place.

It also kept him from slipping into that other place where fear knew 
no bounds.

Part of him was there now. His eyes couldn't see the cave or the 
gelatinous fibres around him -- the things he still knew were truly 
real. What he saw was a dark room where he could move freely, but 
didn't dare to. 

His peripheral vision picked up a shadow emerging from one of the 
corners. He shut his eyes, refusing to look at it.

"You're not real!"

His heart was racing; his senses were becoming more alert, as his 
body reacted to the adrenaline flooding his blood stream. No! He 
couldn't panic. He had to stop the fear.

Fear was what *IT* wanted!

He bit hard on his hand. There was pain and the taste of blood in 
his mouth, but the fear didn't dissipate.

"Mine," the now familiar voices said.

He turned around and the shadow engulfed him, the beating of his 
heart escalating to immeasurable pain.

"This isn't real!" he tried to scream, and that was the last thing his 
brain ever recorded.


                      2


"What're you doing this weekend?"

Dana Scully stared at her partner. "Why?"

Mulder graced her with a gnomic smile. "Just curious."

She sighed. "Whatever I'm doing, I'm certainly not planning on running 
off with you to some God-forsaken town to chase after some local 
legend or a recently-sighted UFO."

It was Friday evening and Mulder had just driven her home. "I was 
thinking," he said, "I could be back in an hour or so. That would 
give you time to pack your bags."

"Mulder! Did you listen to a word I said?"

"Of course I did. And there's no X-File involved. "His smile 
broadened. 
"I swear. I just thought it would be fun for us to spend the weekend 
together, that's all."

"Right." She stepped out of the car, saying over her shoulder, "See 
you Monday."

Mulder called back through the open window. "Don't forget to pack a 
swimsuit."

"Mulder!"

"What?"

She kept herself from sighing once again. "I'm not going!"

"You don't even know where we're going." He had slid to the passenger 
seat so he could talk to her without yelling.

"You seemed to think it wasn't necessary to inform me of our 
destination, 
when you ordered me to be ready in an hour."

That's because it's a surprise. And I didn't order you ... exactly."

"A surprise?" she asked doubtfully. 

"Yes. I'll be back in an hour."

And before she could say anything else, he got behind the wheel 
again and drove off. She turned back and walked to her apartment, 
muttering, "I'm not going." all the way, and wondering if that was 
for the benefit of her absent partner, or if she was trying to 
convince herself.

The truth was that, an hour and a half later, when Mulder came 
knocking 
at her door, her bags were packed, swimsuit included. She hated 
herself for that, but she hadn't been able to resist.

Mulder loaded her bags into the car, trying, and failing to hide 
his triumphant smile. As they were leaving Washington, she tried 
several times to find out where they were going. When Mulder 
refused to tell, repeating that it was meant to be a surprise, she 
leaned back on her seat and made a point of not replying to his 
attempts at conversation.

They'd been driving for two hours when Mulder turned into a narrow 
lane. "Close your eyes," he said.

She looked at him. It had gotten dark and the trees formed a thick 
canopy over their heads; closing her eyes couldn't obscure her see 
view any further.

He said, "Please." And rolling her eyes condescendingly, she did as he 
asked.

The car came to a halt and she heard Mulder's door opening. "Can 
I open my eyes now?" she asked, anything but eagerly.

There was no reply. What was he doing?

Her door opened, making her start. Mulder said, "Don't open your 
eyes yet." He helped her out. Placing his hands firmly on her 
shoulders, 
he pushed her softly forward for a few feet, and then made her stop. 
"Okay, now."

They were facing a beautiful old house. The lights were on in most 
of the windows and in its glow Scully could see the climbers wrapped 
around the wrought iron of the balconies.

She looked at him. "Haunted house?"

"No." he headed back to the car to get their luggage. "Just a plain 
old inn."

She took her bags and followed him into the reception. Mulder had 
made reservations, and the owner led them to their rooms.

Her name, Jean Remington, was on a plastic broche she wore on the 
pocket of her blouse. She seemed to be in her fifties, and in her 
dark brown hair a few white threads were starting to show.

"You'll have to share the bathroom," she said as she was leaving.

Scully walked into her room. She gazed approvingly at the classical 
forms of the dark wood furniture and at the delicate pattern of 
the quilt, which repeated itself in the drapes and in the upholstery. 
Maybe this hadn't been such a bad idea after all.

There was another door to the right of the one that opened to the 
corridor. After a quick knock, Mulder came in through it. The door 
led into the bathroom and beyond it was another door that she guessed 
opened into Mulder's room.

"Do you mind if I shower while you unpack?"

"No, go right ahead."

He returned to the bathroom. A moment later, the sound of running 
water reached her. Idly, she wondered if he had locked the door.

She was just putting away her empty bags when Mulder popped his 
head through the door, "I'm done."

She grabbed her toiletries and walked into the bathroom. There was 
a faint smell of after-shave in the air.

She looked at the small bathtub and frowned. It was full of foam-
crowned 
liquid. She putt her hand in and found out it was hot. Mulder had 
actually drawn her a bath.

As she was slipping into the water, she wondered what had gotten 
into him. She raised her hands, spreading the fragrant foam over her 
shoulders. She had to admit the weekend had started in a very 
promising way.

There was a soft rap on the door. She smiled to herself. "Come in."

Mulder walked in and placed a mug full of hot chocolate on the broad 
wooden edge of the bathtub. "I ordered one for me and I thought you 
might like some too."

Scully stared at the whitish bits of molten marshmallow floating 
in the cocoa. "Mulder, sit down."

"What's wrong?"

"I think I'm the one who should be asking that."

"There's nothing wrong."

She rose slightly from her prone position, making sure the abundant 
foam still covered her. "Mulder, you treat me to a weekend in a 
lovely country inn, you draw my bath, and you bring me hot chocolate 
with tiny marshmallows. What's the catch?"

"No catch."

"And I'm supposed to believe that?"

He grinned shamelessly. "Maybe I'm trying to get lucky."

She just stared at him. He sat on the edge of the bathtub. "Honestly? 
I was going through some of my old journals last weekend and I 
realized 
that sometimes I treat you -- "

"Like I'm something growing out of your side?" She took a sip of her 
chocolate.

"No. I've come to trust you so completely. I know you'll be there 
for me, no matter what. I guess sometimes I don't appreciate it 
enough. It's almost as if you're -- "

"Something growing out of your side?"

He laughed. "I was going to say the one stable part of my life. 
I thought it was high time I made it up to you, that's all."

"Thank you."

"You're welcome."

"Now get out of here, I'm naked."

He pretended to be peeking into the bathroom. "I know."

"Mulder!" She held a huge wet sponge threateningly.

He rushed out the door, into his room. Laughing, she sank back into 
the water, feeling warm and safe in more ways than one.


                      3


"Scully. Scully, wake up."

She turned to Mulder with bleaky eyes. He was fully dressed and 
there was a look of unmistakable excitement in his eyes. She pulled 
the covers over her head. "Mulder, you promised, no X-Files."

"What're you talking about?" He shook her slightly. "C'mon, get up."

She looked at the radio clock on top of the nightstand. "Mulder, it's 
barely six AM."

"It'll be worth it. Trust me. Get dressed, and don't forget to wear 
your swimsuit. I'll wait outside."

Swimsuit? Good, maybe she could drown him. She dragged herself out 
of bed and got dressed, knowing he wouldn't let her sleep in that 
morning.

"I'm ready."

He held her hand and rushed down the stairs. "We can just make it," he 
said.

Drowsily, she allowed him to guide her among the trees until they 
reached a pond. There was a thin mist rising from the water to envelop 
the surrounding trees. There was a certain romantic melancholy about 
the place, but it certainly wasn't worth getting up that early on a 
Saturday.

"Watch." Mulder's voice was barely audible as he pointed at the sky.

The sun was coming up over a nearby hill, visible beyond the tree 
tops. The mist solidified the early rays into a sheet of iridescent 
silk. Soft shades of yellow, pink and green lighted the grey 
silhouettes 
of the trees. Here and there, the sparkle of the water was visible 
through the mist.

Scully remained motionless and breathless. She felt she had been 
transported to some cover illustration of a fantasy novel. This 
place belonged in a dream world. It was hard to believe something so 
beautiful could be real.

As the sun continued to rise, the mist started to dissipate, and 
soon the magical conjunction of elements was lost. She looked at 
Mulder, feeling guilty. He'd been doing everything to make her enjoy 
herself, and she'd been such a grouch.

Mulder smiled. "Hard to believe it only lasts three minutes, isn't 
it." He started to undress. "Last one in is a MIB."

She followed him slowly. The pond looked a lot smaller now. At the 
far end of it, water gushed from an opening on the rocky side of the 
hill.

Mulder examined her black and green olympic cut swimsuit with 
interest. 
"I suppose you wearing a bikini would be asking for too much."

She ignored the comment and stepped into the water, immediately 
finding out why the mist hadn't dissipated completely. "A thermal 
spring." She dove into the warm water and, with a few precise strokes, 
reached Mulder.

"It's not a thermal spring," Mulder said. "No one knows why the 
water is hot here. I read in a brochure back at the lodge that 
sometimes it goes cold for years."

"I know what it is," she said, treading water effortlessly, "See 
the caves up in the hill? They're really a secret UFO parking lot."

"A UFO parking lot?"

"It's the exhaust from the UFOs that heats up the water."

"And I suppose the water goes cold in UFO off-season."

He drew nearer. She tried to escape but he pushed her underwater. 
Laughing and coughing, Scully came up and repaid him in kind. 

Mulder lifted his arms above his head. "I'm beat. You win."

With a smug victory yell, she swam away from him, crossing the pond. 
She was near the spring when she heard a loud splash. She chuckled 
quietly. If Mulder was trying to surprise her, he wasn't exactly being 
discreet.

She felt fingers touching her arm. Swiftly she turned around. "Oh, no, 
you don't."

Then she screamed.

She heard Mulder splashing behind her, swimming fast to reach her, 
but she couldn't look away from what was in front of her. A man 
was floating in the water, and he was dead.

Mulder touched her shoulder. "Are you okay?" 

"Better than he is."

The man's face was contracted in an expression of pure horror. "I 
think he was scared to death."

"Heart failure?"

"Probably." She examined the man as closely as she could without 
touching him. "I'd say he's been dead for two or three days. But he 
hasn't been in the water."

"Then he had to come through there," Mulder said, pointing up. Above 
their heads was the hole through which the water cascaded into the 
small pond, an opening just wide enough for a man to go through.

"I suppose there's a town nearby?"

He nodded. "A small place called Boeces Ridge."

"I hope it has a sheriff."


                      4


"The man's name is Simon Wundt," Sheriff Colden was saying.

Mulder was trying to pay attention both to what the sheriff was 
telling Scully about the dead man and to the orders he was receiving 
from headquarters. Behind them, two deputies were loading the body, 
wrapped in an old blanket, onto the back of a pickup.

"He's, well, *was* a geologist," Colden went on. "We get a lot of 
those around here, trying to find out about the pond. He was staying 
up on the lodge. About a week ago he just disappeared."

"Did you organize a search?" Scully asked.

The sheriff shook his head. "No. His things were gone too, and he 
had paid for his room in advance. We thought he'd left, been called 
away or something."

With a brief "Yes, sir." Mulder switched off his cell phone and 
joined them. From the corner of his eye he saw something moving 
in the trees. He turned around, but there was nothing there. He 
shrugged it off as having been probably just a bird fluttering from 
one tree to the next, or the fleeting shadow of a branch moving in the 
wind.

"I just talked to Skinner, he wants us to stay and help," he told 
Scully.

He saw her eyes darkening with anger and it puzzled him. he too 
was upset about having to work this weekend, but anger in this case he 
would've called overkill.

Still, no one else would've been able to tell how strong she had 
reacted to the news from the calm way she addressed the sheriff. 
"Sheriff Colden, I'd like to talk to the coroner as soon as possible."

"We don't have a coroner, I'll have to send the body up to -- "

"That's okay," Mulder says, "Agent Scully can perform the autopsy 
herself."

"I'll ask Dr.Thompson to set up a room for you," the sheriff said to 
Scully.

Mulder said, "You should also ask your men to search the woods around 
here for Mr.Wundt's things."

Nodding, the sheriff moved away from them and started talking to 
his deputies in low tones. *At least*, Mulder thought, *the local 
law enforcement was being cooperative enough.*

As soon as the sheriff was out of earshot, Scully turned to Mulder, 
her tone unmistakably aggressive. "What will you be doing meanwhile?"

He wondered what was going on. It wasn't like Scully to be acting 
like this over a spoilt weekend. Carefully, he replied, "I was 
thinking 
of going to town, see what I can find about the pond and this whole 
area."

"Agent Scully, are you coming?" Sheriff Colden called.

Without a word, Scully turned her back on Mulder and walked to where 
the pickup was parked, motor running.

"I'll talk to you later," Mulder said. He was aware of how 
apologetical 
he had sounded, but he couldn't escape the feeling he had done 
something 
wrong. Trouble was, he had no idea what.

A few hours later, he was sitting at the only table in the small 
library of Boeces Ridge. It was one of those long heavy tables, 
and it looked as old as some of the massive books he had spread over 
half its length.

The cell phone in his pocket chirped. The librarian glanced at him 
in an almost motherly chide. He was certain some one else would've 
been chastised with a much sterner look, but the tiny woman seemed 
overjoyed to have a real live FBI agent doing research in her library.

He answered the phone before it could make another sound. "Mulder." 
He bended closer to one of the books, trying to decipher the 
handwritten, 
time-faded letters. "Hey, Frohike. What did you guys find out?"

As the other man spoke, his face begun to light up. Things were 
falling into place. "You don't say." He started closing some of 
the books, the low thud of leather bound pages clashing together 
being accompanied by clouds of dust. He frantically rubbed at his 
nose.

"I don't know," he answered into the cell phone, "but clearly 
something's going on."

He picked up the note pad he'd been scribbling numbers on and added, 
more to himself than to Frohike, "Scully's not going to like it."



                       5


Scully was sitting in her room when Mulder returned to the lodge 
that night. He sat next to her and watched her for a moment as she 
went through some papers neatly pilled on the table before her.

"So, how did it go?" he asked.

She didn't look up at him. "Heart failure."

"Caused by?"

"Intense fear," she said, selecting one of the sheets of paper and 
writing something on it. "I sent some samples to Washington. I'll 
know more when the results come back."

He had taken his note pad out of his jacket pocket. Not that he 
needed to look at it. He had been rehearsing what he was going to 
say all the way back from town . "I checked some of the town records. 
There are references to the pond almost since the town was founded. 
I found out that the water always runs hot for seven years and then 
there's a variable interval during which it goes cold, followed 
by another seven years of hot water, and so on.

"I also found out there used to be a lot of missing locals until 
this place was built. I asked Frohike to check it out for me. The 
number of people that came here for a vacation and never returned is 
amazing."

She kept going through the papers, much too fast to be reading 
anything. 
"According to Sheriff Colden, in all the time he's been sheriff, 
there's never been a disappearance or a violent death here."

"Maybe they all disappeared with all their things and having paid in 
advance."

She finally looked up at him and said, "Are you suggesting Jean 
Remington is really Norman Bates?" But there wasn't the slightest hint 
of amusement in her eyes.

He shook his head, not noticing her foul mood. "You're forgetting 
the disappearances were already taking place long before the lodge 
existed. And they all coincide with the seven year periods during 
which the water runs hot."

"Really?"

The flatness of her reply caught him off guard. He was used to Scully 
disagreeing with him, he had fondly come to think of it as her job. 
But this wasn't disagreeing, it was as if she wasn't even listening.

He suddenly realized there had been something almost perfunctory 
about the way she'd been speaking. He looked at her face, looking 
for the anger he'd seen in her eyes earlier, but it wasn't there. 
Her expression was perfectly calm, her eyes seemed to be looking right 
past him.

In the back of his mind a never quite dormant memory was stirred 
and he could hear her voice, far far away but clear as crystal, 
asking, "Why don't I have a desk?"

His eyes unwittingly drifted to her lower back. She had a desk now 
and her name on their office's door. But even back then, the whole 
thing had been about something else. And whatever that something was, 
it seemed to be back.

"Something wrong?" he asked tentatively.

"I'm tired, Mulder. I'm very tired."

He leaned forward, trying to think of something to say. Something 
-- anything -- that would make that look go away. His attention 
was diverted by a knock in the door. A woman, looking some ten years 
younger than he, walked in.

"I'm sorry for intruding," she said, "but Jean told me you found 
Simon."

"You knew Simon Wundt?" he asked.

The woman nodded. "I met him here. I knew he wouldn't leave without 
saying goodbye to ... anyone."

The pause made clear who she meant by *anyone*. And Mulder was sure 
she was right; Simon Wundt wouldn't go home without saying goodbye 
to the woman who was now sitting between Scully and him, looking 
like she was about to burst into tears.

She wasn't exactly his type; she had short mousy hair, wore no makeup 
whatsoever and glasses that were too thick to be intellectually sexy. 
Still, there was something undeniably fascinating about her.

"Did you arrive here at the same time that Mr.Wundt, Ms. ... ?" Scully 
was asking.

"Bella, Bella Wallasey. No, I've been living here for about seven 
years." There was a shadow of a smile in her eyes. "It's like having a 
big family."

"Any more of your *family members* disappeared like this, 
Ms.Wallasey?" 
Mulder found himself sounding a little sarcastic, but, fascinating 
or not, something in the way she had said that last phrase had rung 
hollow. He looked at Scully; they could usually read each other's 
impressions from the rise of an eyebrow, the blink of a glance, 
but her face remained as expressionless as it had been before Bella 
walked in.

"No," Bella said, "Nothing like this has ever -- " She looked like 
there was something choking her. "I'm glad you're here. Sheriff 
Colden is a good man, but this is too much for him. How fortunate 
you happened to be staying in the lodge."

"We always seem to be fortunate that way." Scully's voice was as 
bland as her face, but her words switched a light on in his mind.

He stared at her and kept staring, even when Bella got up to leave. 
"I know you'll find whoever did this to Simon," she said, "I just know 
it."

Mulder looked up at her and watched the door closing behind her. 
He thought he'd heard a tingle of mockery in her last words, but 
he couldn't be sure, he really hadn't been paying attention. There 
were other things in his mind right now.

He turned to Scully. "You think I knew about the disappearances 
before I brought us here, don't you?"

Not answering him, Scully got up and walked to the bed to pick up 
her bag. "We should go down, it's dinner time."

He held her by the arm as she walked past him. "I didn't know anything 
about it Scully. I saw this place in a magazine, it looked nice," 
he said, adding silently, *And I don't know how you could think I 
did*.

"Fine, Mulder." Her eyes were saying, *It wouldn't be a 
first*."Whatever you say."

"You're mad at me."

She opened the door and looked up at him. "No, I'm mad at myself."


                      6


Mulder was dreaming. And in his dream he was running desperately 
down a passageway only a few inches broader than the massive boulder 
rolling after him.

He looked behind to see the boulder gaining on him. A part of him 
told him this scene was too familiar for him not to be dreaming, 
while some corner of his brain wondered if boulders were supposed to 
have tentacles.

In the exact moment he felt the moving stone touch his back, he 
woke up to find himself safe in his room at the Butterfly Lodge.

His relief didn't last long.

He couldn't move, he was completely paralysed. he heard the door 
of his bedroom opening. All his eyes could do was stare at the dark 
ceiling.

He felt the weight of a body stretched out over his. A face appeared 
over his. Bella's face, and still not her face.

The lips were fuller, the cheekbones higher. She wasn't wearing 
her glasses and she now had flowing blond hair. But he knew it was 
Bella.

The smell hit him a second after the demented gaze in her eyes did. 
It was the sickening smell of something in an advanced state of 
decomposition.

Now he knew exactly what was going on. He knew exactly what this 
woman was. Her face drew closer and he managed to emit a strangled 
sound.

There was a knock on the bathroom door. Suddenly, he could move 
his head. A thread of white light was seeping in from the bathroom.

The door opened and the weight on his chest was gone. Scully walked 
in, a worried look on her face. He sat up and looked around. They 
were the two only people in the room.

"Mulder?"

He hadn't realized he was grasping at his chest, until Scully sat 
on the bed next to him and placed her hand on his chest, rubbing 
it slightly. "What's wrong? Can't you breathe?"

Mulder was trying hard to focus, lost between the knowledge of what 
had almost happened to him and the warmth of her hand on his skin. 
"Scully, I think I was just attacked by a succubus."

Her hand left his chest and he held it, needing to maintain contact. 
He could see the doubt in her eyes as she said, "A succubus?"

"She left when you walked in. She looked like Bella Wallasey but 
she had fuller lips, high cheek bones, long blond hair -- "

"Capped theet and silicone breasts?"

He knew where she was going with this, but she was wrong. "I 
experienced 
all the classical symptoms of succubus possession. I couldn't move, 
and there was this smell -- "

Her other hand moved to caress his shoulder. "It's called hypnagogic 
hallucination. You're dreaming, but parts of your brain are still 
functioning as if you're awake."

He'd heard that explanation before, and even then he hadn't believed 
it. "Scully, it was real. I wasn't dreaming. Why would I dream about 
Bella Wallasey?"

"You probably went to bed thinking of the case. And the erotic motif 
is perfectly normal. Our work doesn't leave room for much more. 
I bet you haven't been with a woman since Kristen Kilar." She fell 
suddenly silent, clearly having said something she hadn't mean to.

Mulder stared at her, startled. "How do you know about Kristen Kilar?"

She looked at the hand that held his. "I read your report on the 
case."

"I didn't exactly include the fact that I slept with her in my 
report."

She smiled. "You didn't have to."

He was relieved that the unsettling blandness was gone from her 
face. The storm had passed, but he wasn't sure they weren't heading 
for another one with this Kristen Kilar business.

"You weren't upset?" he asked quietly.

Her smiled widened. "Upset? The moment I disappear, you jump into 
bed with the first blood-sucking vamp that comes your way. Why should 
I be upset?"

He chuckled. Her hand had resumed caressing his arm. "I know you 
were hurting. I know the sort of memories my disappearance must've 
brought on."

Mulder held her face. He needed to explain what had happened back 
then, but he couldn't find the words. "I felt ... And Kristen ...

"It was so good to stop thinking about you for a while. And sleeping 
without seeing all the things they were doing to you.

"I've been so afraid of losing you again, of the emptiness ... "

She pulled a lock of hair away from his face. He was painfully aware 
of how close she was. He traced the contour of her face with the back 
of his hand.

Scully stopped him just as he was caressing her down the neck, and 
held both his hands down. "This bond that has been growing between 
us since our first day together always seemed to me to be hanging in 
such a delicate balance.

"It's always been so intense and yet it feels as if the smallest thing 
-- "

He finished the sentence for her, " -- could make us lose each other, 
permanently."

She nodded. "Even something that would, in principle, bring us 
closer."

They stayed like that for a moment, staring into each other's eyes. 
Mulder knew they had reached an agreement on how to deal with a 
common fear, and that it was a resolve they both would sooner not 
uphold.

Scully finally broke contact. "We should go to bed."

They joined in nervous laughter. "We'll have to get up early 
tomorrow," 
he said, "The sheriff and his men didn't search the caves. I thought 
we could take a look. Test that UFO parking lot theory of yours."

She stood up. "Sounds like fun."

He watched her walking back to the bathroom, unable to ignore the 
way the light shone into the darkened room and through her nightgown, 
outlining her body.

She stopped by the door. "Good night, Mulder."

"'Night, Scully."

The door closed behind her and shortly after the light went out. 
Mulder lay back, knowing it would be several restless hours before 
morning.


                      7


Sunday arrived bright and blue. Scully stood by the window watching 
the wind push the clouds from horizon to horizon. it reminded her 
of the reproduction of a Constable that had hung in her parents 
living room in one of the many Navy bases they had lived in. Hard 
to say which, the houses never varied much. 

Mulder walked in. There were dark pouches under his eyes, she noticed. 
And there was something like gel or mousse on his hair. It looked 
dreadful, but she knew it was the only way he could tame it after a 
restless night.

She wondered if he had slept at all after their conversation. She 
had managed to sleep some, but not too deeply; too many dreams.

He had seen her looking at the sky. "Beautiful, isn't it? Like a 
gliding painting."

Scully startled, then smiled. Almost seven years; by now she should've 
been used to this convergences of thought between Mulder and her.

He was staring inquisitively at her smile. "You ready?"

She nodded and followed him downstairs. They were almost out the 
front door when the messenger arrived with the results of the tests 
performed in Washington.

At the bottom of the hill, she sat on a rock and opened the envelope. 
She skimmed through the report, trying to ignore Mulder's fidgeting 
and his attempts to read over her shoulder.

"Odd," she said.

Mulder sat on the rock next to her. "What is?"

"Wundt's adrenal glands showed signs of intense activity. It's 
consistent 
with the cause of death. Extremely high levels of epinephrine would 
eventually cause damage even to a healthy heart."

"What's the problem then?"

She handed him a sheet of paper. "According to this, no traces of 
epinephrine were detected in his blood. The levels should be well 
above normal. If he died of epinephrine induced heart failure, there 
wouldn't have been time for the hormone to degrade."

Mulder stood up, giving the report page back to her. He pointed 
at the caves above them. "Maybe we can find some answers in there."

She stuffed the envelope in her bag and they started climbing. Mulder 
was walking ahead of her, dirt and pebbles rolling from under his 
feet. Trying to avoid a larger cascade of stone and dust, she slipped, 
falling hard on her side.

Mulder rushed to her. "Are you okay?"

Scully held his hand, hauling herself up. The thick fabric of her 
jeans had protected her leg from scrapes or deeper wounds, but she 
knew that she would soon have a nicely sized bruise marking the 
course of the pain that now flowed from her hip to the middle of her 
thigh.

Mulder didn't ask if she could walk. He simply placed his arm under 
hers and helped her along the rest of the way. She didn't protest, 
she knew she would only be slowing them down, if she insisted on going 
on her own.

They stopped at the entrance of the first cave. There was another 
opening further to the right, at the end of a narrow ledge projecting 
itself from an almost upright wall.

"Which one do you think?" she asked.

"With your leg like that I certainly hope it's not that one," he 
said, pointing at the other cave.

She moved closer to the cave's mouth. "Looks like we're in luck." 

On the wall of the cave was an arrow, marked in some sort of red 
chalk. "There must be more inside," she said.

"He must've left them to find his way back out," Mulder said, pulling 
out a flashlight and shinning it into the cave.

"And to be found, if it came to that. Going into caves by yourself 
is always a risk." She leaned against the wall, lighting her own 
flashlight and walking in after him.

They followed the arrows along the narrow passage and continued 
following them after the first bifurcation. Mulder looked strangely 
uneasy, he kept glancing behind him as if he expected something other 
than her to be there.

"Claustrophobia?" she asked the next time he turned around.

"Deja vu."

She was going to ask him what he meant by that, but her peripheral 
vision picked up some movement behind them and off to the left. 
Her hand reached slowly for her gun as she continued walking. Again, 
she registered the slightest hint of movement. She swiftly turned 
around and found herself training her gun on a solid rock wall. 

She retraced their path, slowly, looking for that third being she 
had seen only out of the corner of her eye. there were no hiding 
places, none that could conceal something the size of what she had 
perceived.

Mulder was staring at her when she resumed walking down the passage. 
"Claustrophobia?"

Scully didn't reply, walking past him. He followed her, leaning 
towards her to whisper. "You can feel it too, can't you? Someone 
following us?"

She nodded, disturbed. While facing the wall, she had convinced 
herself that she had imagined it all. But if Mulder had seen it as 
well ... Still, if there was someone following them, where had they 
gone to

"There's another arrow down there," Mulder said. Ahead of them, 
the passage bifurcated once again. Wundt's mark was at the entrance to 
the left-hand passage

Scully could hear the sound of running water. "Wundt came straight 
to the spring, he didn't hesitate once. He must've followed the sound 
of the water."

"That, or he was lead here by someone who knew these caves better than 
he."

She picked up the pace to catch up with Mulder. "You're talking about 
Bella, aren't you?"

He stopped, leaning against a strangely shaped stalagmite. "I know 
you think I was dreaming last night, but I'm sure it was she. She's 
not human, Scully. And she's been here for almost seven years; the 
fountain restarted running hot almost seven years ago."

"Mulder, the spatial coincidence and proximity in time of two events 
do not constitute evidence of the existence of a cause and effect 
between those same events."

"If you say so. One thing is certain; the seven years are almost 
up, that spring is about to go cold. And I'm willing to bet that 
when it does, Ms.Wallasey will be gone from the lodge, not to be seen 
for some time."

Without waiting for her to reply, or -- in Scully's opinion -- not 
wanting to give her the chance to do so, Mulder resumed walking 
and disappeared around the next bend. Scully smiled at the words. 
Mulder would never disappear around any bends. Not while she was there 
to make sure of that.

She started walking, and the feeling of being watched took over 
her once again. She was about to investigate when she heard Mulder 
calling her in agitated tones.

She found him standing in a wide cavern through which the water 
that fed the pond outside ran, forming a narrow creek. She soon 
saw what was causing his agitation. Where the creek became wider, 
just a few feet before it plunged out of the cavern, a strangely 
round boulder was partially immersed in the water.

A gelatinous web of glaucous fibres flowed from the boulder up to 
the cavern's low ceiling. Hanging from those same fibres were several 
bodies in different states of decomposition.

She heard Mulder mutter something about tentacles. He pointed at 
some loose fibres near the opening to the exterior. "Wundt."

Scully nodded approaching the sphere. "Mulder, this isn't rock." 
Seen from up close, the object was translucent, even though it was 
coated with what appeared to be a thin layer of some calcium compound.

She touched the object carefully. Inside it something stirred. She 
took a step back as the silhouette of a person in foetal position 
was made apparent by the movement.

She looked at Mulder and she didn't have to ask if he had seen it 
too. he pointed at the hanging bodies. "You think it's feeding off 
those?"

"Not of their flesh." She'd been trying to ignore the small creatures 
consuming the remains, but it was impossible not to notice the 
scurrying 
when they flashed their lights on one of the bodies.

Mulder had crouched by the water. "It's not hot! Scully, that thing's 
what heating the water."

She had felt the heat the creature generated when she'd touched 
it. "Residual heat. from some organic process, probably digestion."

"I thought you said it wasn't feeding off their bodies."

"It isn't," she said, "It fed off these people while they were still 
alive. More specifically, it consumed their adrenaline. I know it 
sounds farfetched, but I think it explains why there wasn't any in 
Wundt's system.

"Mulder, this is a whole new life form. Something no one ever saw, or 
at least never recorded."

He stood at a safe distance from the sphere examining it. "I think 
you're wrong, Scully. There are a lot of records about this creature, 
in its mature form, that is."

"You mean to say it's a baby?"

"More likely the egg of an anthropomorphic creature," he said, "an 
egg that takes seven years to incubate. And I'd say this one should be 
hatching soon."

"An egg?" She re-examined the object. "I suppose it's possible," she 
said carefully.

"Wanna bet on who laid it?"

"Let me guess: Bella?"

"Makes sense."

"Does it?" Well, she was anthropomorphic, but then most humans were.

"Think about it, Scully," he said, starting to pace the length of 
the creek. "What if succubae and incubi aren't supernatural entities 
at all. What if they're people. Not Homo Sapiens, people who maintain 
characteristics of their non-mammal ancestors. And still, who are 
close enough to us for reproduction to be possible." 

"Reproduction?!"

He stopped, facing one of the corpses. "You know, when I was a kid, 
before Samantha was taken, I used to hang her doll on the ceiling 
to pretend they were astronauts. She'd be so mad."

"Mulder, do you realize what you've said?" 

He walked back to her. "About the dolls?"

God, sometimes it was hard not to lose her patience with him. "The 
succubae! To suggest that that thing is ... " She shook her head.

Her peripheral vision picked up the presence before she heard the 
voice. "And still he's right. Not about we being related to humans, 
of course. But that is my child."

Mulder moved forward. "You don't hybridise with humans?"

"We wouldn't be able to walk among you, if we didn't, occasionally," 
the woman said, stepping into the beams projected by their 
flashlights. It was Bella.

"You said you weren't related to humans," Mulder pointed out. Scully 
watched them, unable to utter a word.

"I have some human blood, as do all of my kind. We need it, so we can 
feed."

"Feed? Off adrenaline?"

"No. That's for the babies. We feed off your fears," she said, closing 
her eyes. "So sweet. We wouldn't be able to interact with your males 
if we weren't feeding at the same time." Her expression had changed to 
one of disgust.

"Our males?" Scully finally asked. "I thought both men and women were 
attacked."

"The males of my kind hardly ever interact with females of yours. 
Every interaction leads to a bearing, and a human female cannot 
carry our children the required time.

"Most babies die. The ones that survive are not like us, nor like 
you. They belong nowhere, they are lost children, beyond all of us."

"Did you *interact* with Simon?" Mulder asked

"No, I wasn't ready yet. I just fed him to my child." She took another 
step forward. "As I will do with you now."

Scully felt something wrapping itself around her neck, and it all went 
black.

                       8

Mulder woke up in a dark room. He was lying on the floor, his fingers 
resting upon the grainy surface of unevenly spread cement.

There was a strange sound gradually filling the room. Like thin pieces 
of hard plastic being struck together, hundreds of small pieces of 
plastic.

He sat up, but it was too dark for him to be able to see around 
him. His hand again touched the floor. This time, though, it didn't 
meet with the roughness of the cement. His palm briefly touched 
something small and smooth in its roundness, something that quickly 
skittered away.

And now Mulder knew what the sound was; long multi-jointed legs 
-- three pairs a piece -- scrapping, keratinous pieces of exoskeleton 
clapping, as the many small creatures that shared the room with him 
scurried about. Insects!

He tried to steady his breath. He had to figure out what was going on, 
think straight.

*One minute he had been in the cave with ... *

What was that feeling up his leg?

*... with Scully ...*

An itch, a spreading, moving itch.

*... Scully and ...*

A shaping going over his knee. Was the room getting brighter?

*... Bella and the egg. Bella had said ... *

Yes, he could see now. Movement across the floor, uneven like the 
surface of a pond when it rains.

*... She had said something, something he couldn't remember ... then 
darkness and ...*

Movement too on his leg, under the thin fabric of his pants. He 
stood up, frantically shaking himself.

It had gotten even brighter. He could see each individual bug clearly 
now. He could feel them too, crawling over him, between his clothes, 
in his hair. Crawling, scurrying, biting and pinching.

Moving so painfully slowly he could feel every touch of every tiny 
leg on his skin. Moving still too fast for him to be able to catch 
them, to shake them off. Shake them off! Off!

His arms flailed desperately as he tried to rid himself of the 
insects, 
feeling the panic surge over him, knowing he would soon be running. 
And screaming.

                      *

Scully had no idea of where she was but she vaguely remembered 
something 
about a cave. She wasn't in a cave, though. She was in one of the 
autopsy bays she knew so well.

She had probably dozed off, and dreamed. If only she could remember 
what she'd been doing down here in the first place.

She stood up. There wasn't a body on any of the tables. Maybe there 
was some indication as to what she was supposed to be doing in the 
papers that littered the desk she had been sitting behind.

But the papers were all blank.

There was something very wrong in all of this. She seemed to remember 
being 
with Mulder in a lodge -- and Mulder being so sweet.

She laughed at herself. Definitely had been dreaming.

She rubbed the back of her neck. "Time to go home, Dana, and get some 
sleep."

*One of the walls seemed to flash before her eyes, melting into 
something 
... rockier.*

A sound came from one of the drawers. A thumping, scrapping sound. She 
froze.

*She had been in a cave ... *

She approached the drawer slowly, remembering the stories they used to 
tell 
each other in medical school about walking corpses. Remembering 
Leonard 
Betts.

*... Bella! Bella had done something to them ...*

The sound returned louder, making her loose her focus. Her hand rested 
on 
the drawer. She hesitated.

* ... Mulder, she had heard Mulder, a choking sound ...*

Suddenly, she didn't know why, she was sure she was going to find 
Mulder in 
there. He was suffocating! Quickly she slid the drawer open.

Rats started pouring out. She stood back, terrified.

*This wasn't happening, this couldn't be happening. Where was Mulder? 
Mulder 
...*

The rats now covered the floor of the room, and still they kept coming 
out 
of the impossibly small drawer. Scully ran for the door.

She pulled and pulled, but it wouldn't open. The rats started crowding 
around her, she could feel several of them starting to crawl up her 
legs.

She pulled harder at the door. Harder and harder
and harder.

The door still refused to open. And the rats kept coming.

"Mulder!"

                        *

Suddenly the insects were all gone. Mulder looked around him, stunned. 
Even the ones that had been crawling over him just a second ago, 
seemed to have molten into thin air.

Something was wrong. Very wrong.

He stood in the middle of the room, waiting for whatever it was 
the insects had felt coming, whatever it was that had chased them 
all away. There a rumbling sound, growing louder and louder and 
louder. A sound he knew well ... from his nightmares.

The walls bursted into flames. Smoke swirled up from the ground, 
surrounding him in a white spiral. 

*This isn't normal! something in his mind shouted over and over 
again.*

The flames grew higher and higher, the smoke was getting thicker. 
Near-blind, tears streaming down his cheeks; his hands making a 
poor job of keeping the smoke away from his nose and mouth; Mulder 
stumbled forward, looking for a way out.

*Cement didn't burn! Cement didn't burn like that!*

As if defying his logics, a wall of flames seemed to sprout from 
the floor in front of him, singing his hair. He stepped back only 
to find himself surrounded by fire.

He shielded his eyes from the smoke and the heat, trying to see 
beyond the flames, trying to find a door. All he could see were 
walls, endless cement walls set ablaze.

*No. There was something else. Rocks! He could see rocks -- through 
the wall!*

He shook his head, the smoke and the fear were getting to him. And 
the circle of fire surrounding him seemed to be getting smaller and 
smaller.

Making a decision; he closed his eyes, held his breath and ran forward 
through the flames. He felt the heat engulfing him.

Then he went against something hard, something that gave way dropping 
him on a cool floor. Around him everything was silent.

Gingerly, he opened his eyes. He was in a corridor, there wasn't 
any signs of fire anywhere. Behind him was the door he had come 
through, but no smoke was coming from under it.

He stood up, there were no marks of the fire on his clothes. He 
examined his hair -- it was untouched!

*Puzzled, he remembered what he had seen inside. The cement turning 
into rock. The cave ... Scully ...*

He was about to open the door, when he saw a figure down the corridor. 
A small, red-headed figure, so familiar to him as his own face in the 
morning.

He started running down the corridor. "Scully!"

                      *

"Scully!"

The voice came through the door. Scully almost sighed in relief. 
She pounded on the door. "Mulder! I'm in here! Mulder!"

To her surprise, the door flew open. Outside, she found an empty 
hallway, no sign of Mulder anywhere.

Then she saw him, just down the hallway, going around the bend. 
"Mulder, wait."

She ran to catch up with him. She went around the corner just in 
time to see him going into another room.

She followed him in. He was just standing in the middle of the room, 
the light of a window above shinning on him like a spotlight.

"Why didn't you wait for me?" she asked, "Didn't you hear me calling?"

He turned to her, slowly, a strange look on his face. "Why should I?"

"What?"

He sighed, looking to the Heavens, and muttered, "God!"

He again looked at her, and started to explain in a definitely 
patronizing 
tone. "Why should I keep waiting around for you?"

Too stunned to think straight she said, "I'm your partner."

"Oh, that."

She winced at the ugly smile that darkened his face. "Mulder," she 
said softly, "is something wrong."

She heard her own words coming back at her, "I'm tired, Scully, I'm 
very tired."

"Something I can do to help?" Her hands reached up to rub his neck, 
but he moved away.

"Actually," he said, suddenly sounding very polite, "you can get the 
hell out of my life!"

"What?"

*Mulder wouldn't say that, Mulder would never say that.*

"You seem to be saying that an awful lot lately, having hearing 
problems, or are you just more stupid then I had thought?"

*This wasn't Mulder!*

"You're not Mulder. Mulder wouldn't -- "

"Tell you the truth?"

He walked up to her and grabbed her by the arms, pulling her up till 
her face touched his.

"Mulder, you're hurting me."

He ignored her. "You just don't listen, do you? You never listen!"

"Listen to what?"

Still, he didn't seem to be hearing her at all. "I tried to be polite 
about it -- I really thought you could take a hint. Guess I was 
wrong."

Pain seared through her, coming more from inside than from where 
his hands were slowly bruising her arms. She could barely stand 
to look at him, his face was so distorted by anger and hatred.

*This is wrong, Mulder brought me to the lodge ... the lodge ... *

He shook her hard. "I want you to leave, don't you understand? You 
keep getting in my way."

"You said I wasn't in your way, you said I --"

"Yadda, yadda, yadda!" He dropped her. "You do get in my way, every 
time and everyway you can!"

He started pacing the room. "It's not just work anymore. It's my 
personal life too. You know how long it's been since ... "

He stopped himself, and stared at the floor, laughing. "People seem 
to think we're a perfect couple."

Memories came to her head; Mulder walking into her motel room as 
she was receiving a phone call from Mulder, the real Mulder; also 
the real Mulder breaking down her door as she was about to kiss 
a man that looked exactly like him.

"You're not Mulder!"

She ran to the door, but he grabbed her again. "Oh, I am Mulder, 
alright. This was always me -- high time you realized that." He smiled 
wickedly. "Partner."

                      *

Mulder followed Scully down the corridor. When he turned the corner, 
he found out she had disappeared. 

The new corridor seemed to go on forever, doors all multiplying 
along its extension. Filled with a sense of urgency he could not 
explain, Mulder started opening the doors, one by one, coming into 
nothing but empty rooms, time after time.

Finally, as he was opening yet another door, he saw a dark shape 
lying on the floor of the new room, the light from a window above 
shining on it like a spotlight. He walked up to the figure, almost 
afraid to look, and saw all his fears coming to life.

He dropped to his knees and held Scully in his arms. Someone had 
beaten her selvatically. Her smooth face was covered in bruises 
and scrapes, swollen almost beyond recognition.

"Scully, Scully," he whispered her name over and over again, gently 
rocking her body in his arms.

"Scully, please." His hand touched her neck, looking for a pulse, but 
didn't find one.

Frantically, he began performing CPR, but she wouldn't respond.

Finally defeated, he held her close. The tears ran from his face 
to hers, washing the flakes of dry blood that covered it.

Mulder raised his head and faced the white light streaming over them.

"SCULLY!!!" 

                       9

Scully had been running and running and running. There was a man 
chasing her, a man that had made himself look like Mulder, a man 
she refused to believe was Mulder.

But no matter how much she ran, he always seemed to be two steps 
behind her. Now, she found herself cornered.

The man drew nearer. "I didn't want to have to do this," he whispered, 
"I didn't."

She was prepared to fight, no matter how painful the resemblance 
to Mulder made it. Then came the scream.

"SCULLY!!!"

Dreadful, full of pain and anguish, carrying a voice she knew so 
well. She looked at the man chasing with a smile of triumph. "You're 
not Mulder!"

But the man had disappeared. She turned around looking for Mulder, 
she had heard him so clearly, he had to be close by.

"Mulder! Mulder!"

                         *

Mulder was still holding Scully's body, his desperate cry had barely 
dissipated in the air, when he heard the voice calling him. Scully's 
voice.

Startled he looked down to find out he was holding nothing. He stood 
up and looked around.
"Scully!"

A wave of relief washed over him as the reply came clear, "Mulder! 
Where are you?"

"Here!"

He headed for the door and discovered he couldn't move. Something 
was binding his arms and legs, something fibrous.

"Scully! Scully, I can't move."

"I know, I can't either."

Silence settled for a moment, a strange silence that scared him. 
"Scully?!"

"I'm still here."

He kept calling for her, and she kept replying, and it seemed to 
him that the world around him changed at the sound of their voices. 

Soon he found himself in a cave, a cave he knew well. Strands of 
a fibrous substance kept him hanging from the ceiling like his sisters 
dolls when he tacked them to the ceiling to pretend they were 
astronauts.

A small distance away from him Scully hung in very similar fashion. 
Her eyes were opened, but she didn't seem to be seeing him.

He started struggling to release himself from the fibres. He hardly 
felt the pain when the fibres broke, dropping him to the hard floor 
below. 

Mulder ran to Scully, and started ripping the fibres away from her, 
holding her to keep her from falling. Exhausted, he fell on his 
knees, holding her against him, as they both sobbed uncontrollably.

"It ... It was that thing ... " she said, "It was ... giving us 
nightmares ... to increase ... our ... adrenaline output."

He held her tighter. "I know."

He was having trouble focusing on anything other than the shape 
of her body against his. His cheeks flushed red as he realised he 
was more than noticeably aroused and that Scully was staring at her.

She brushed her lips across his cheek. "High levels of adrenaline 
have other effects beyond fear."

He looked at her and saw her smiling. Slowly, he began lowering her 
body to the floor.

                      *

"How did you free yourselves?!"

Scully was startled by the loud sound. She'd been so enrapt in the 
warmth of Mulder's body, she hadn't seen Bella approaching.

Quickly, she scrambled to her feet, then helped Mulder up. She reached 
for her gun. Time to see how real this Bella was.

But the woman ignored them completely. She had walked up to the 
egg and was examining it, carefully. She turned to them, a strange 
smile across her face. "It's coming."

In horror, Scully saw the form inside the egg grow more and more 
agitated. She understood what Bella had meant.

"It's hatching," Mulder said, under his breath.

She nodded, her brain racing. They had to do something, fast. Whatever 
Bella was, she knew they couldn't let another like her into the world.

Her eyes lingered on the stream. "The water!"

Mulder stared at her. She pointed at the source of the stream. "We 
have to stop the water."

Without waiting for another word, Mulder started shooting at the 
rock wall above the spring. Large pieces of rock started tumbling into 
the stream.

"No!" Bella jumped at Mulder, but Scully was faster than her. Her 
shot echoed through the cave as Bella dropped to the floor.

Soon the spring was completely blocked by rocks. The egg started 
changing colour, and soon it bursted into flames.

In silence, Mulder and her watched as it slowly turned to ashes. 
Unable to feel sorry for the creature that now wailed in front of 
them.

                      10

Mulder was driving away from the Butterfly Lodge. Scully and him 
had decided to leave for Washington immediately.

After the creature had been consumed by the flames, they found out 
that Bella had disappeared. Until the time they had left the lodge, 
the sheriff and his men had been unable to find any traces of her. 
A serial killer they were calling her.

Scully and him had both taken long baths to wash away the smell 
of burnt flesh. Mulder smiled when he remembered  how the bathroom 
doors had stayed open the whole time.

Things had changed between them in that cave, somehow. He looked 
approvingly at Scully, sitting beside him, staring out the window. 
She was wearing jeans, a pale blue t-shirt, and a soft yellow over-
sized 
something that looked oddly familiar.

"Is that my shirt?"

She looked briefly at him. "Yes."

He smiled again, as he remembered their conversation the night before. 
The rules had changed now, their relationship was going up a notch, 
whether they liked it or not.

He wondered if he should talk to Scully about it. Then he looked 
at her, seeing how perfectly she seemed to fill his shirt, and decided 
she already knew.

                  
                 THE END