JUST THE TWO OF US: Book II Mulder and Evan (3/3)
By S. Esty (AKA Windsinger@aol.com)

See disclaimer part 1/14. Copyright 1996 by Sue Esty

Chapter 11

Off Buck River Trail
Thursday, 4:30pm
December 13, 1993

Dana stood back and studied her pile of windfall sticks and
thick branches with satisfaction. She had spent most of the last
hour gathering them and breaking them into the proper length for
her fire. Together with the logs the Forest Service had cut from
fallen trees and left piled for hikers - probably to keep the
public from cutting down live ones - she had a stack that looked
large enough to last at least two long, cold winter nights and not
just the one. She turned. The tiny wayside shelter, which had
enchanted her when she came across it on her ramblings the day
before, had taken on a kind of glow as the sun sank nearer to the
mountains on the far side of the valley. Golden and rustic. There
was no door but there were stout stone walls on three sides and
part of a fourth, an intact roof and a fireplace and chimney. She
didn't want to move her wood pile and herself inside though, not
yet. There would be time enough for that when it was too dark to
see. For the moment the view overlooking the valley held her
spellbound.

It was this vista combined with shelter's utilitarian, yet
graceful construction of stone and wood which had prompted Dana to
end her brief vacation by sleeping here. These and her desperate
need to be utterly and completely alone. She had made the decision
before even asking if it was legal to sleep in the shelter. As it
turned out, it was, but she had would have stayed anyway. "Don't
ask permission, ask forgiveness" was what her older brother always
said. Dana smiled as she pulled her backpack over to a thick log
and sat down with a sigh, feeling the good healthy pull of seldom
used muscles across her back and in her thighs. The old adage made
her think of how Mulder dealt with upper management, although
Mulder never seemed to get around to the asking for forgiveness
part. Demanding selective blindness was closer to the truth.

Feeling a little chilled now that she had stopped working so
hard, Dana slipped her down jacket back on. As she pulled up the
zipper her stomach growled. Breakfast had been a long time ago. She
considered her options, said the hell with a proper diet for once
in her life, and tore open a king size Butterfingers candy bar. She
ate around the chocolate first, reveling as the flaky layers of
sugar and fat crumbled into her mouth. If Mulder ever found out, he
would never let her live this down.

She hoped he would.

Mulder. Her thoughts always came back to him. Her stomach was
suddenly crawling with guilt, so much so that the forbidden sweet
seemed, all at once, to be not such a good idea.

Though late on Tuesday night leaving had seemed her only
solution, Dana was convinced now that she never should have left.
Mulder and Evan. Evan asking her to marry him. Wanting her. He was
such a good man. Mulder pushing her, literally, out of his life.
Since they had come back from Colorado, he had acted as if her
presence only brought him pain. Early in the hours of Wednesday
morning, after that long sleepless night, Dana had finally
convinced herself of the truth - that he saw her only as some
monster come to torment him. And she had been so tired and so
confused from too many other restless nights, that all she could
think to do at the time was to get away, to escape, to find a place
to breathe the clean air. To think.

And she had come to earth - here.

Mulder would laugh someday. Her running off to the woods after
what had happened to them when they met the ancient green mites.
But this was no virgin forest. The next breathing soul was not
twenty, thirty, forty miles away like the last time. Nature's
glory, yes, but viewed from nice, safe surroundings. Lodge,
bathrooms, restaurants, Park Rangers, well maintained paths, this
shelter. Safe, easy, but still amazing, still restful, calming,
rejuvenating.

Or should have been. Dana had awakened in the early hours of
the morning before, lonely and guilt-ridden. One trip to the falls,
one afternoon in the woods, one night at the Lodge, was all it had
taken for Dana to realize that she had made a mistake. Her mistake
had not been in coming, however. Her mistake had been in not
bringing Mulder with her. They needed to rest and heal together,
not apart. There had been far too much time spent apart. She had
thought about calling, had tried to call, but the Lodge phones were
not working and considering the idea an hour later Dana had decided
that, perhaps, it was just as well. He needed some time alone, too.
Another day would not hurt. Mulder was not, Dana was certain,
suicidal and Skinner would keep his eagle eye on him. She was still
worried about him, but she needed time to decide how she was going
to say to Mulder all that desperately needed to be said.

Knowing she wasn't going to get any more sleep, Dana had
decided that she might as well get up. In this the night had been
like so many others recently, the only difference being that the
Lodge bed was not as familiar as her one at home. She had found
herself drawn to the balcony off her room where the sky was just
turning grey. Wrapped in one of the lodge's thick quilts, she had
watched the sky lighten and turn pink as the world waited for the
sun to rise once more over the ancient mountains. As she watched,
as she let time, for once, travel, not at her pace or Mulder's but
in its own stately measure, Dana had finally understood.

She had understood what really was going on with Mulder. He
did not hate her. He hated and feared himself. His world was
falling apart, his beautiful mind was disintegrating before his own
eyes and he had not wanted her to see him. When the realization
struck, Dana actually started back into her room to pack. Only the
promise of the sunrise had held her back.

<Wait,> it had seemed to say. Everything has its own time.
Confrontation... anger... healing... yes, and loving, too.

He was ill. Not just moody, not just a little depressed. They
both had tried to deny it, but it was true. She saw it then and
realized that he needed to see it as well. Whether he hated her,
blamed her, or feared her, that did not change the fact that
nothing she had done so far had helped. In fact, having her there,
pushing him, hovering, had been worse than if she had done nothing,
for he had had to expend too much of his meager energy keeping her
at arm's length, keeping the walls up and in repair. As much as she
wanted to hold, care for and protect him, she realized that she was
the last person he needed now. He needed time alone to think and
feel and put the pieces together. To see what needed to be done. If
he could. If he couldn't....

He had been right that evening at her mother's weeks ago. She
smothered him. At the best of times he was too wild a creature for
that.

As she stood on that balcony, Dana had remembered the shelter
from her first hike and the fabulous view down the valley from its
doorway. And its solitude. A fitting place for preparation, she had
decided as the sky went from pink to gold. She would need all her
strength and courage to see her through the next few days after her
return... because, come hell or high water or little grey men, she
was going to see that Mulder got the help he needed. One night more
to firm up her resolve, to test her mettle as her father would say,
and she would throw her things into the car and roar back to
Washington - and then she would see how the land lay. And if he was
no better she would find him help and see that he got it, and be
damned what it said in his personnel file. What had happened to him
was not his fault. He had been tortured. She had seen the results
of the medical exams in the records from the Convalescent Center.
The concussion had nearly killed him. He had nothing of which to be
ashamed.

He would not like it. He would hate it. And her. And probably
feel the bite of her betrayal every time he remembered what she was
about to do to him. This was why she was here. To gather the
strength not to give in to those angry, frightened eyes. She might
be throwing away all of her hopes and dreams for their future, but
as long as he remained in his present state, there was no future
for them anyway.

Someone once said - an acquaintance was someone you knew, a
friend was someone you knew who could hurt you. She knew she could
hurt him, hurt him badly, but she couldn't let that keep her from
doing what needed to be done. Mulder was strong and brilliant but
this was one area where he was vulnerable. He had been through too
much lately. She would do anything to bring him some healing and
peace.

And so she had come here.

Dana sat on her log near the entrance to her shelter for a
long time, appreciating the feeling that she was the only person in
the world. Watching the sun sink in the afternoon sky, she opened
her mind. More than once she let the tears falls for the beauty
outside and the sadness within.

At one point she noticed her hands, surprised again at the
sight of the unfamiliar ring on her finger, a garnet and diamond
heirloom that had belonged to her great aunt. The aunt had died and
willed it to her and Margaret Scully had brought it in its little
velvet box just a few days before. Dana had put it on her right
hand the morning of that horrible assignment with Johnson, but
Mulder had not even noticed. Dana wondered if she would ever get
one on her left hand, from Mulder or from anyone. What if he found
after this that he could never trust her again and she could never
care for anyone else?

Beautiful and wonderful, exasperating, brilliant,
irrepressible Fox Mulder had spoiled her for all other men. He had
more sheer courage than a hundred men who were too stupid to know
they should be afraid. Because Fox Mulder knew fear, lived with it,
slept with it. Tried to sleep with it, anyway. Yet he lived. He
raised those broad shoulders and opened his eyes every day willing
to accept what was strange and powerful and, yes, even frightening,
with a childlike sense of wonder that brightened all the staid,
dull places in Dana's heart.

Let him descend into the darkness alone? Never. But then it
all came back again - how to help him? Mulder was not like anyone
else. What doctor was there out there who would understand and
respect that sense of wonder that brightened Dana's life? Who would
understand and not try to kill that unique spark that was Mulder?
That was what terrified Dana at the thought of the hospitals and
the doctors and the drugs.

That thought so depressed her, that and the ache to put her
arms around him, that Dana nearly decided at that moment to pack up
after all and go back. To him. If she hurried she could reach the
parking lot where she had left her car before dark.

Wait, didn't you just convince yourself three minutes ago that
you weren't going to do that?

The sound of voices among the trees stilled the argument she
was having with herself. Hikers on the path coming her way.
Visitors. Other travelers on the road. If they stopped at her
shelter, she would offer them food and conversation and maybe they
would stay and talk. She needed to hear other human voices which
were not either of the two in her head - not her own voice alone
and lonely, the not the one that sounded like Mulder's voice full
of longing for her to come home.

********

Somewhere on the Buck River Trail
Wednesday, 10:30 am
December 19, 1993

Mulder was on edge, furious at having to have to move so
slowly, but he and Evan both knew they could not afford to miss any
sign that anyone had gone off the path. In fact, they found plenty
of evidence of that, but all the side paths which had not made by
the woodland wanderers with four feet, had led only to piles of
beer cans. At least, the weather was behaving. As cold as the night
had been, the sun was warm for December. Actually, quite warm for
December, for, for all that had happened that morning, it was still
not yet noon.

They had been searching for twenty minutes. Evan watched
Mulder out of the corner of his eye and marveled. What he had said
before in the car was truer now than before. Like his namesake, the
man was in his element. His footsteps were as soft as a deer's. The
way he moved, his head, the eyes, his whole body was graceful,
alert, watchful. Evan felt like a awkward bear beside him. What he
had heard about Mulder's clumsiness could merely be an indication
that Mulder was just more daring, that he ventured into dangerous
situations more boldly, than his more conventional counterparts.

Evan halted in mid-stride. That meant exposing Dana as well.
Much as it pained him, Evan knew, all too well, that Dana loved her
work, even the peril. Without a doubt she had the courage for it,
but it still hurt to think of her exposing herself to injury or
worse.

Evan stretched neck muscles, cramped constantly scanning the
ground. "Fo - Mulder, now that Eli's not here, we need to talk
again."

Mulder turned three quarters and scrutinized Evan as if he had
forgotten he was not alone. "About?"

"This walk in the woods and what's been going on in your head
since yesterday. You were up all night on the databases. What did
you find?"

Mulder went back to scanning the sides of the trail. "I found
out no car answering the description of Scully's was involved in an
accident or crime in the continental United States, Canada or
Mexico, nor has any been reported abandoned."

"We know that," Evan sighed.

"We do now. We didn't last night," Mulder reminded him.
"That's the way it is sometimes. Most of the time, actually.
Ninety-five percent perspiration - and ninety-nine percent of that
leads no where - and five percent inspiration."

"From what I've heard, isn't your inspiration rate a little
higher?"

Evan could not see Mulder's face but heard the reply. "Some
say that." The agent moved down a side trail and found more rusted
beer cans. "I also confirmed that ten of this country's citizens
are currently free who would take positive pleasure in hurting me
physically, professionally and psychologically. But none of them
have been released recently and I believe if they were going to do
anything they would have done so before now. But I did call the
night desk at the Bureau last night and gave them the list. They're
going to do some checking."

"So you don't think it's a specific vendetta against you or
Dana?"

Mulder stopped and turned back to let Evan see his face. His
eyes should have been green as the woods in this light, but they
were still dark and haunted. "There's always that possibility. I'm
certain I have enemies I'm not aware of. Scully probably does, too.
But to give you the short answer, no, I don't think she was
targeted by any old acquaintances. Call it a feeling."

"Then what's left?"

"Random violence for one."

"But isn't that far harder to deal with? There's no pattern to
that sort of thing."

The black look in Mulder's eyes answered that well enough.

"I've seen her in action," Evan said. "She's a good officer."

Mulder had turned back to the trail, moving as quickly as he
could and still look for off-branching trails. "Which only means
she is more likely to have taken her attacker with her." Evan
opened his mouth to speak, but Mulder must have sensed the
movement. "Evan, don't try to gloss it over. I'm not a fool. What
we have now hints that she was attacked out here last Thursday or
Friday. If she's still out here somewhere -" Mulder swallowed,
feeling a little nauseous, the remains of Amanda's muffins Evan had
given him sitting like rocks in his stomach. "Evan, you're the
doctor. It's been five days and you've seen the weather. You tell
me."

Evan did not answer. Certainly the weather could be worse. The
year continued dry. The temperatures, though mild for being nearly
winter, were still too cold for anyone, especially if they were
injured, to remain outside unprotected for five days even if they
were dressed for a day hike. For a while he allowed himself to
become occupied with panting up a steep part of the trail. The
ground had been rising steadily since they left the parking lot.
Now it opened up to a wide panorama of hills and valleys and soft
rounded mountains. They had reached the first ridge. A stone
building sat just on the edge of the trail. Its open doorway looked
out onto the view. There were no signs except for the foot prints
which were everywhere on the trail.

Mulder took one look inside the shelter at the bare dirt floor
and turned away.

"Nothing, I take it." Evan said. It was not a question. "Eli
did say there was more than one."

Mulder was looking out over the view. "I was surprised, at
first, to hear Scully would actually want to go camping."

"Well, this is not exactly camping weather."

"It's not the weather. It's the woods. I almost killed her in
the woods a few months ago. I thought I would never get her near a
forest again, but looking at this - " from here they could see the
checkerboard of farm fields and orchards in the valley far below,
the tiny dots of cows " - this is different." Mulder started back
up the trail.

"How different?" Evan asked when the other man did not
explain.

"Ever read the 'Lord of the Rings'?" Mulder asked.

"About ten times," Evan admitted, a little sheepishly.

Mulder eyes flicked over in Evan's direction as though he was
considering having to change his opinion about this man. "Remember
the Ents? They loved the deep woods. Do you remember Treebeard's
tale of the Ent-Wives? They loved the farms and the orchards. The
gentled places. This forest is tame. It's not old growth." <And so,
hopefully, too young for ghosts and goblins and little green bugs.>
"I'm beginning to see how Scully would like it and I think I can
even understand why she would want to sleep out here."

Evan had his hands in his pockets. "It's a test right? Dana's
very strong, but the work that you two do is exacting. I imagine
she feels a need to keep pushing herself."

Mulder almost smiled. "That's part of it, but this has ritual
qualities. Why now, do you think?" But Evan for once did not
answer. "Come on, Evan. The two of you discussed alternatives -
doctors, hospitals, that special clinic." Mulder's gaze was
piercing. "She knows my history. She knows how the FBI looks upon
agents with too many trips to the couch. She knows I had enough
documented trauma done to my psyche during my years in VC. And now
I'm an advocate for the X-Files? Amazingly enough, the boys on the
fifth floor CAN put two and two together. They're only looking for
an excuse to show me the door, to the street if not to a padded
cell. She was on a retreat, a pilgrimage, a vigil. She was readying
herself to come back and force me into some kind of treatment."

Evan closed the distance between them by jogging down the
slope to the level of the shelter. "If she came here for the reason
you think, she was not enjoying herself. Fox, she cares about you."

Mulder's answer was low. "Does she? There are times I think
she does, but then I don't see why."

"Forget why. You say you remember Colorado now? Do you
remember when you got your memory back. Do you remember that first
kiss you gave her?"

"How can you ask that? You were there. I kissed her like we
were -" his voice dropped suddenly on the next word as though it
had just come out of him unexpectedly "- lovers. How could I have
kissed her like that?"

"Is that what all this has been about? You push her away
because somehow you don't feel 'worthy' of her? You nineteenth
century piece of shit! You had every right to kiss her and,
considering what she had gone through to get you back, - twice, I
might add - it was your obligation to do so. You two have been
repressing your feelings for each other for months now from what I
can tell. So much so that it takes a major neurological trauma to
get you to drop your guard for ten seconds and let her know how you
feel. I realize because of the job that it's tough, but you two
have got to find a way to make something work. And, my super-
intelligent friend, have you taken the time to consider that she
might have LIKED it?"

Mulder paced along the edge of the overlook, still searching
the land, but part of his mind, at least, was elsewhere. He had not
thought through that scene, had actively tried not to remember. He
recalled the kiss with embarrassment because he felt he had forced
himself on her, invaded her space without her permission. Now
looking at it without the storm surge of his other problems
complicating the memory, he realized that what Evan said had more
than a grain of truth to it and on one level was almost too sadly
wonderful to contemplate. On another level however... iron doors
slammed shut with booming finality.

Mulder suddenly felt a large, firm hand on his arm which
turned him around. "Damn it, man! As you said, I was there! She
liked it, Fox-y Boy. Jeez, if she would kiss me like that, just
once, I'd feel like I'd died and gone to heaven."

Mulder stared into the physician's broad, handsome face for
only a heartbeat. Evan was telling the truth as he saw it, but that
only made it worse. Roughly, Mulder pulled away, forcing his legs
to continue moving along the path even while his mind reached back,
remembering, compelling him to feel again her initial surprise as
he had clasped her strong, compact form to him and frantically,
joyfully, sought for her mouth. For a second she had been stiff but
then had gone pliant in his arms, wriggling with what? Happiness?
And then, yes, he could remember a response, her softening body
leaning into his, leaning and giving herself over into the kiss,
eyes, bright eyes, so incredibly alive. For such a few precious
seconds they had shared something he could only describe as joy -
and then the memories had crashed in upon him, battering him as
though spikes were being driven into his skull, their crushing,
strangling weight driving him nearly unconscious.

Though his knees felt at that moment not very dependable and
his tired eyes burned, Mulder kept walking, his attention, as ever,
on the ground as the trail led them through a densely wooded
section. The trees closed darkly in on the trail and, as they
blocked the sun, the temperature dropped. Evan ran a few steps to
draw alongside, seeing from the drawn, thin face that Mulder had
not forgotten that scene. "Are you going to be honest with
yourself? Did she or did she not enjoy it?"

Mulder found a deer trail more interesting than it should have
been and turned from Evan to follow it a few steps until he was
almost hidden by low hanging branches. "She was surprised... happy
to see I remembered her."

Evan stood on the main path and called after him with disgust,
"Man, you are pathetic!"

Mulder returned, and neither spoke. They kept moving, always
moving. Evan wondered if the agent was searching now or running.

The sun was nearing its zenith. A few minutes passed and
another shelter became visible in the distance but first there was
a long downhill slope and then a longer climb uphill again to reach
it. When they were half way down, Mulder began, "Evan?"

"What?"

"I'm not pathetic."

Evan had no trouble remembering how their earlier discussion
ended. "I was out of line," Evan apologized in a low voice. "I
don't understand. I can't. I really have nothing to compare with
what you've been through."

Mulder looked back, eyes bleak. "And I hope you never do."

They reached the bottom of the slope and started up. Evan
wished he had done more cross training. Weight lifting had ill
prepared him for this. He was blowing and Mulder had not even
broken a sweat.

To keep his mind off the ache in his calves, Evan inquired
hesitantly, "I know I'm prying, but, to help me understand, would
you mind satisfying a physician's curiosity?"

"What now?" Mulder asked, suspiciously.

"What was it like waking up and not remembering?"

Mulder felt a sinking unease. He had not spoken of that time
to anyone, not even Richard and Sheila. Normally, he would not
speak of it even now, but he was tired, the depressing revelations
which had required this search were gnawing, undermining the walls.
Somehow keeping it all in no longer mattered. Keeping it in had
forced Scully to leave.

The pause was so long that Evan had not expected Mulder to
speak. When he did, the voice was not one Evan had heard before.
"When the police brought me to the clinic - let's just say, if I'd
been a stray, I wouldn't have been worth keeping. No ID, of
course, and covered with mud, blood, urine, and vomit. I didn't
regain anything like consciousness for twenty-four hours. Waking up
was like sitting down with a book with no title and the pages are
all glued together. You know it's a book, but the story is
completely unknown to you. You can only guess what the story may be
by looking at the physical appearance of the book - was it
expensive and well taken care of or cheap and tawdry."

"What kind were you?" Evan asked.

Mulder's eyes kept searching the sides of the trail even as he
replied. "A little of both. Once my clothes were cleaned, the
police and the doctors could tell they were expensive, but my body
was such a mess. So many old and recent wounds. I had them
absolutely stumped. The calluses on my right hand were very
suggestive. I obviously used a hand gun frequently which meant I
was probably either in law enforcement or, as Sherlock Holmes would
say, one of the 'criminal class'. I remember one day they brought
around an ambulance and took me to a firing range. They even put a
gun in my hand hoping the familiarity would shake something loose,
but I didn't want to touch it. I refused to fire it. I was afraid
I would like the feel of it. I was so scared I started
hyperventilating and nearly fainted. I didn't want to remember. I
actively fought against it. I thought for certain that I must be on
the run from the police. How could anyone in law enforcement afford
a suit like the one I'd been wearing and no one had reported me
missing." Mulder wrapped his arms around this chest, hunching over
as he walked as if he was cold. His voice was very low. "That hurt,
that I was worth so little that I hadn't even been missed. This
was, of course, during the time when everyone thought that what was
left of Fox Mulder would fit in tea cup, but I didn't know that
then."

Evan had only wanted to get Mulder talking, to bring him back
again to what Dana must have felt. He had not intended to find this
pain. "How DO you afford suits like that?" he asked, trying to
break the mood.

The lean agent shrugged. "I like nice suits and I live in a
hole of an apartment. I also buy in quantity." Mulder turned around
and walked a few steps backwards so that he could look at Evan,
anger beginning to rise from somewhere deep and dark. "And, no, you
don't get out of it that easily by trying to draw me off the
subject. You wanted to know? Then listen."

Mulder stopped and stared unwaveringly into Evan's face. For
his part Evan could only stare back. "Do you know what it's like to
be so totally depressed you want to die? They had me on a suicide
watch for days. Do you have any idea what it's like, you who grew
up with your surf boards and your California, feel-good culture
with your great aunt and your grandmother who gives you grief
because you lose a damn text book! I sat in that hospital bed and
inside I felt normal, like any normal person would feel after being
almost dead. I didn't sense any evil in me, no dark secrets, no
blots on my soul, but I didn't see any halos either. I wanted so
hard to believe I was a good person. I didn't hate or remember
hating anyone or anything - and yet I was scared shitless that at
any moment the state highway patrol or - yes, I feared this, too -
the FBI might come in and arrest me for drug smuggling or murder or
rape or worse. I couldn't conceive of anything worse at the time,
but I can now because I remember - there is worse in the world, a
lot worse.

"Everyone was so concerned about my 'attitude', that they
brought in a whole new group of psychologists who gave me some
association tests. They came away positively convinced I must be in
law enforcement."

They had reached a level part of the path again and the next
shelter was before them. The view from here was not so spectacular.
Evan followed Mulder to the structure. The dirt floor inside was
swept clean except for a wind-blown pile of dry leaves. "Getting
those test results," Evan remarked, "that must have helped."

"Helped?" Mulder allowed a slight smile to touch his lips.
"Most of that time is a blur, but that morning I will never forget.
A new nurse changed my bandage, and I noticed her eyes. They were
such beautiful eyes. Just like Dana's eyes." Unaware that he had
said 'Dana' instead of 'Scully', Mulder spread his large hand out
on his chest. "I felt all warm here, just from looking at them. And
I knew, I KNEW there was someone, somewhere waiting for me with
eyes like that. Somewhere, there was someone who cared. The doctors
were so excited. They said the breakthrough would be any day.
Later, I lay on the floor in the center rec room in a patch of sun
and just daydreamed about what my life must be like."

Evan frowned. He suddenly knew where this was going. "I don't
know why you're telling me this."

"So you can understand. You wanted to understand. Now WHEN we
find Dana you can help her to understand, at least partially, why
I acted the way I did. Everyone at Ravensworth was wonderful to me
all morning. The women all told me how good looking I was, how
intelligent. Each bruise, every scar was like a purple heart,
received in the line of duty protecting the weak and the helpless.
Everyone liked me. Surely, I must have had a perfect childhood."
The voice took on a bitter edge. "My parents, my family, would be
overwhelmed with happiness to find out I was alive and well. When
I returned to the office - precinct, whatever - my co-workers would
throw a big party and everyone would be glad I was back. I would
have buddies and we'd go out drinking beer together and play
basketball. I must have a wife, I told myself, because of the eyes
recognition, something stable for a long time. Something romantic.
And kids, at least two, who would call me Daddy and run into my
arms and cry because they missed me so." Evan had to look away from
the incredible anguish he saw on Mulder's face, the eyes glittering
with an unnatural gleam.

Mulder's voice rose with sudden, absolute fury. "Do you have
any idea what it was like to wake up to the truth! My life was
nothing, NOTHING like what I dreamed! Childhood? I lived in hell
except for Sam and I lost her. Parents who would rather I had
gotten lost instead. Friends? What a joke! The Bureau welcome me
back with open arms? I was lucky they hadn't already cleaned out my
office. No love life. A rotten little apartment. And I had been
used, manipulated by everyone my entire life. Right out of the
academy I was so... so eager to do good, so desperately happy to
finally find something I was good at that I let them use me. I
almost let them destroy me. They have poisoned my mind, I'll never
be rid of that - never! And my current job? Ha! Chasing flying
saucers. Yeah, you get a lot of respect doing a job like that. I
wake up and find out that my life has been hell from day one and
I'm a neurotic, paranoid kook! The laughing stock of my profession.
How's that for a mind-opening experience?"

"Dana loves you," Evan responded softly.

"Did you know she was originally sent to spy on me?"

"So why does that matter? I wish she loved me the way she
loves you now."

"I don't for the life of me know why she should. She would be
better off with you."

With his hands Evan slammed the slighter man up against the
rough stone wall of the shelter. Mulder grabbed for the offending
hands on his shoulders and, even as out of condition as the agent
clearly was, Evan was amazed by the strength of his grip. Furious,
he used his weight and refused to be moved. "Mulder, I'm normally
a very mellow person but I'm beginning to see why Dana is so strung
out. I will not take her off your hands. I love her too much to
ever do anything to hurt her like that. But you don't seem to mind
hurting her. You've been killing her these past weeks." Evan thrust
his broad face up close to the agent's fiercely controlled
features. "Mulder I saw you two. I was there. I saw that first
kiss. That was - amazing. And then you pushed her away. You didn't
see her face but you should have. You broke her heart. She had been
going on for weeks, knowing you were in trouble, finding you,
thinking you were dying, mothering you back to health, which was
the last thing she wanted to do. She gave you up for two weeks, let
you go because it was something YOU wanted. And then to be told
you'd been killed! And in that kind of horrible accident! To go to
your damn funeral! And then she finds you and you push her away as
if she had the plague!" Evan's grip and the tightness in his voice
lessened. "Damn you, Mulder, you let her think you were coming back
to her. She was looking forward to it."

"So was I! But I was fooling myself! Out there in the garden
I saw it all and I couldn't keep deceiving myself - and her - any
longer. My life is a joke, and even if she was willing to accept
that and we went beyond what we have now, 'they' would never let us
continue working together."

"Dana might be willing to take another assignment."

"But then we'd hardly see each other. Talk about what would
not be fair to her. I would lose her! You have no idea how much I
work. I need to work! Yes, it's obsessive. She knows that, but at
least we're together. And we travel so much. We'd never see each
other if we didn't work together. We could never survive a long
distance relationship. And she would come to hate me for making her
give up her job."

Mulder finally wrenched himself away from Evan and broke for
the trail, head down, eyes automatically searching.

"So what are you going to tell her when you see her?" Evan
demanded. "And we WILL see her."

"I still don't know," Mulder said, his voice hushed as the
trail bisected a thick copse of pines. He only knew he wanted it
all and that seemed impossible.

Evan sighed. He had just heard Mulder speak for longer then he
ever had before and there was satisfaction that Mulder felt like he
could talk to him, but it scared him even more that one person
could hold so much pain. Evan took a swallow from the canteen he
carried, then he offered the container to Mulder who at first was
going to refuse. In the end he reached for it.

"I want to be your friend," Evan said, as Mulder handed the
canteen back.

"That will be the day."

End of Book II, Chapter 11

=====================================================================
======

JUST THE TWO OF US: Book II Mulder and Evan (12/14)
By S. Esty (AKA Windsinger@aol.com)

See disclaimer part 1/14. Copyright 1996 by Sue Esty

Chapter 12

Buck River Trail
Wednesday 11am
December 19, 1993

They walked on. More up and down. More trees. A soothing
monotony after the thunder and lightning that had blown up between
them. The silence was suddenly broken by a wave of static. It took
both a moment to remember Jonas' radio. Mulder pulled it from the
pocket of his coat and pressed down the 'send' switch.

"Mulder, here."

"Eli Jonas." A pause. "Agent Mulder, I don't know how to tell
you this, so I guess I'm going to say it straight out. I just got
a call from the park ranger. Remember I told you that we have just
the one in the winter? Well, he got back at eleven from a meeting
in Charleston and found a message on his answering machine. Seems
some hikers found an abandoned campsite yesterday. Sleeping bag and
all just sitting there, but not a complete campsite and not nicely
stowed away like the camper was going to return. Abandoned. Some
stuff was gone, personal stuff, but far too much was left to seem
natural."

"Where?" Mulder asked darkly.

"The fifth shelter if you're still on the Buck River Trail."

Even as he spoke Mulder's pace picked up. "We just passed the
fourth. I'll call back and tell you what we find."

"Before you go," Jonas added hastily, "Ed says the sleeping
bag Agent Scully bought from him was a Timberline minus thirty.
Where did she think she was going, Antarctica?"

Mulder exchanged a glance with Evan. Even over the radio,
Jonas' attempt to ease the tension fell flat. "Scully never did
like her feet to get cold," Mulder replied humorlessly and broke
the connection.

Mulder knew how to run. This came as no surprise to Evan. The
man had a runner's body and the restless temperament. He ran now.
No point to looking from side to side any longer. After his initial
frantic burst Mulder settled down to a steady rhythm or it would
have been steady if his body had not been so tight. More than once,
trying for speed on the downhill, he stumbled but did not ease his
pace. Evan had to push hard to keep him within sight and still he
lost ground stride for stride. Finally he gave up at the last
incline to plod and blow the remainder of the way to the top.

At the crest Evan paused, startled by the view, enthralled.
They were on the top of the ridge again and, startled by the view,
what Mulder had said about Ents and Ent-wives came back perfectly.
Tall, rounded mountains ringed a deep, long valley, its gently
rolling land checker-boarded with fields and farms. The wild and
the tame in harmony. Each with their own unique beauty.

Though the view was extraordinary, the structure was a
duplicate to the other shelters they had seen. Evan topped the
incline in time to see Mulder step up to it, taking infinitely more
care than he had before. Outside the shelter was a fire pit. To
Mulder and Evan's eyes it appeared to have been used fairly
recently because the heavily charred wood, the natural charcoal,
had not yet crumbled into dust. Other than that the ground outside
the shelter was clear, beaten dirt.

After the bright sun the interior was dim, but both
immediately saw the objects in the corner.

Mulder knelt almost reverently, and with precise, slow
movements unrolled the sleeping bag. Inside were all the objects
the hikers from the day before had gathered from the abandoned
campsite. As Evan lingered at the side of the doorway so not to
block the light, Mulder examined each object with a grave
solemnity. When he read the tag on the sleeping bag his hand shook
slightly. Even in the deep shadow Evan could see that much. He
could also see that each was covered by a light blotted coating of
dried mud and dust as if the items had been outside for at least a
few days and at some point it had rained. The long seconds passed
without a word spoken.

Unrolling the sleeping bag a little further, an object fell
onto the earthen floor with a soft thump. Mulder reached to pick it
up.

As he looked at this new item, he went still except for his
shoulders which betrayed a short, convulsive shudder. Beyond that
he remained for a long, long time like a stone. When he moved it
was to stand, a tiny sound somewhere between a moan and a cry
wrenching from him as he somehow found his feet. Stiff-legged,
grim-faced, groping like the blind, he turned, seeking air. He
tripped at the threshold where the dirt outside the shelter was
higher than the floor within, tripped to land on his hands and
knees in the sunlight.

In his own haze Evan barely noticed. By this time he was
crouched in the dark corner where Mulder had been. He touched the
small aluminum pan, the matching cup, and a very small propane
lantern only six inches high. There was a liter sized water bottle
which was half, and a plastic bag of trash consisting of some tea
bag wrappers, a candy bar wrapper, and two of those cups with the
pull tabs which could be put in the microwave or on a hot rock near
the fire - onion soup and meatless lasagna. The label on the
sleeping bag read 'Timberline' and below it was printed. "Down
filled. Guaranteed to -30 F degrees". With a weary shake of his
head, Evan rolled the objects up in the sleeping bag again, leaving
it in the corner where they had found it.

Squinting as he reentered the sunshine, Evan found that Mulder
had picked himself up out of the dust and was sitting on the trunk
of a tree someone long ago had rolled by the fire pit. He was
leaning over, his elbows on his knees, his head bowed, his face
hidden. As Evan approached, for once on silent feet, he heard no
sound but that of the occasional long, ragged breath.

The object Mulder had retrieved from the shelter floor was
gripped in one white-knuckled fist. A woman's teal-green hair
brush. A flutter caught Evan's attention. Sensing that Mulder was
so far away he could not be disturbed, Evan reached down and ever
so gently pulled from the bristles the long hair that had waved to
him enticingly in the breeze.

Holding it to the light, bright red highlights glistened in
the sun.

For a long time Evan stood beside this friend of Dana's
feeling awkward and useless. He felt he should say something but
there were no words for this. He wanted to do something to show he
shared Mulder's helplessness and fear. During rotation in medical
school, Even had, more than once, held his friends in his arms, and
in turn been held when it was too hard to find the will or stomach
to look death in the face one more time. Who the hell cared that
men were not supposed to do that sort of thing.

Similarly, he now wanted to reach out his hand for the these
broad shoulders, but at the last moment he held back. This man's
grief he couldn't touch. Mulder was not made from that mold. Mulder
was alone, separate. He would force it inside, push it down, close
it off behind - what Dana called once in frustration - those damn
walls in his soul.

But there was one small service Evan could do. The heel and
palm of Mulder's hand that did not hold the brush lay exposed,
scratched with dirt and blood. Groping along the stone walls during
his staggering exit from the shelter, or in the fall, he must have
scraped it.

Evan reentered the shelter for the bottle of water. He
hesitated. This was evidence. What if there were fingerprints? If
there had been, the days of being out in the elements and the
handling by the hikers surely had obscured them by now. Returning,
he reached to examine the injured hand only to have it snatched
away, the agent's dark head coming up, the unfocused eyes dully
burning.

"Mulder, your hand. Let me look at it." Evan raised the water
bottle. He had carried it carefully by the base, not where anyone
would normally have held it. "Is it okay if I use this?" Mulder's
brows came together the slightest bit. "If you don't want me to I
won't. You're the expert but I doubt there's anything much left to
learn from this." The only response Evan received was a hesitant,
resigned offering of that hand for inspection as he must have given
in to Scully's requests numerous times.

Quickly, Evan did what he could. Washed the palm to uncover
the scratches, picking out the few small stones that had become
imbedded in the deepest of the raw places in the heel. Throughout
the process, Mulder did not move again but continued his unblinking
stare that focused inward far more than it saw into the world. Evan
sighed when he was done. His treatment had hardly been worth the
effort, the scrapes were so minor, but it gave him something to do,
some way to show he cared since words were so inadequate. Finally
he tied his own handkerchief around the reddened places then rose
and moved away.

A large stone sat on the edge of the overlook. Evan sat there
with his back to the shelter and Mulder's chosen isolation. He
thought with irony that, just as he could do nothing for Mulder's
pain other than the little he had done for the superficial physical
cuts, there was nothing he could do for his either. His own pain
was something large and horrible and foreign that had lodged itself
in his gut and in his throat and in his chest and would not let him
breathe. He forced himself to stare at the incredible, unnatural,
unfeeling beauty of the view with its rolling, soft mountains, its
deep vales and its tiny farms all washed in sun and shadow. Time
stood still for a little while, or at least in human terms it did.
Evan was brought out of his reflections by the sound of a step
behind him and the soft click of something metal and plastic.

Mulder had risen forcing his fingers to pull up the antenna on
the ancient walkie-talkie. He stared, rather dazed, at the
handkerchief wrapped around his palm as if he didn't remember where
it had come from, then he depressed the switch to call Jonas. He
spoke into the receiver, then let his finger up on the switch to
listen to the static. Evan watched over his shoulder. Mulder's face
held no more expression than before. The rigid way he held his jaw
made the words come out rough and thick. He had to force that
voice, repeating the calling sequence several times. Finally, a
female voice answered. Without delay she transferred the call.

"What did you find?" Eli's voice asked bluntly through the
static a few seconds later.

"As reported," Mulder told him in that contained, tight voice.
"A Timberline, minus thirty." The lips must have faltered for a
second for the words came out unclear. Evan knew he had heard it
and was certain Eli had as well. "A pan and a cup, a lantern, and
a bag with some empty food containers."

Food one person would eat. At least food enough for someone
Dana's size, Mulder thought, closing hot aching eyes. Not nearly
enough for a full grown man. Food Dana liked. Especially that candy
bar, her secret vice.

"Did you find anything clearly personal? Sorry, to have to ask
you, but we need to be certain to justify all this attention.

A pause. A shift of that object still clasped in Mulder's
right hand. "A hair brush," he reported. "It's Scully's. I
remember."

An oath came through the link, low and drawn out. "Damnation,"
Jonas' voice came back at them. "What do you make of this?"

Don't talk too fast. Don't think too hard. Better yet, don't
think at all.

Mulder made a painful shrug Jonas couldn't see but Evan could.
Something was going on inside. Evan wasn't certain what but
Mulder's eyes changed. They held no less pain but they were
suddenly clearer, more focused in the here and now. "Your hikers
were overly conscientious," Mulder reported in slow, precise tones.
"You said they found everything spread out as if the camper had
just walked away? I'll have to take their word for it because it's
not that way any longer. They bundled everything up and packed it
away very neatly in the shelter."

"Shit," Jonas growled. "Those back to nature types should
watch more television and then they'd know not to disturb something
like that. No other signs of... ?" Eli didn't need to finish.

Keep it short. Keep it professional. "None."

"I have a crew ready to come up. Some are on their way now. Do
you want to coordinate?"

"No. I'd prefer to pursue some other angles. Your people are
more familiar with the woods anyway." Evan was impressed that
Mulder could be patient, professional even now, though he could
have gone psychotic and Eli would not have turned a hair. The older
man's compassion for their plight reached even over this impersonal
radio.

"Then do me a favor," Jonas was saying now, "and give your
radio to the first search team you come across. You can pick up
another one at the office. I'm having some more sent in from
Charleston."

"I'll do that," Mulder agreed. Suddenly he asked in almost his
own voice, "One more thing, your local high school crowd must have
a favorite hangout. Where would that be?"

There was a momentary static delay. Evan could sense Eli
smoothing that thin, long hair back out of his eyes with his
fingers. "I take it you mean the ones who always seem to be getting
into trouble?"

One edge of Mulder's mouth twitched slowly. "Yes, those."

"There's only one place. The Sugar Shack - I know, I know,
it's not a very original name. It's only been there since Noah
found dry land. It's a pizza/deli in town near the high school.
Sounds like you'll need transportation. I'll send a car to pick you
up. You can meet it... well, you know the place." They did. Where
Dana's abandoned car was still parked. Evan could hear little pops
over the radio as if Jonas was bouncing the eraser end of the
pencil against a table top somewhere chose to the microphone.
"Anything else you want to tell me, Agent Mulder?"

"Not at this time," was all Mulder responded before abruptly
breaking the connection. Legs spread in a wider stance than normal,
as if he needed the support to keep standing, the lean figure
swayed for a moment beside the fire pit. "Come on," was all he said
to Evan before forcing his body into a looping run back in the
direction from which they had come.

Evan stared shocked and undecided towards the retreating
figure, then back at the shelter where the sleeping bag, the small
pan, the cup, and the lantern lay. Abandoning them felt almost like
abandoning her, but clearly Mulder had a plan, though he had not
chosen to let Evan in on what it was. After looking from the
shelter to the trail yet again, Evan made the decision that, though
he felt a tug at his conscience to stay and search here, he really
had no choice but to follow Mulder.

Evan did not like running. Luckily, the trail was built mostly
with gradual grades, but still they were only half way back when he
had to shout hoarsely to Mulder, who was running far ahead, to stop
for a breather. Evan found himself gasping, his ribs standing out
like the bellows sides on some old cart horse. Mulder's breath came
in short pants and he paced impatiently, waiting for Evan to catch
up.

"Just tell me," Evan began, alternately blowing and trying to
swallow. "Why are we leaving? What if she's here?"

"Because I doubt that she's here. Not close anyway. Something
Sheriff Jonas said."

Evan searched the bleak, worried face. "Her car. The break
in."

"Scully did teach you well. Remember, I don't believe in
coincidences. The 'crime wave' Sheriff Jonas talked about so
casually does not feel right. I needed to go there -" he gestured
back up the path towards the shelter and its lonely sleeping bag
with his bandaged hand, "but we could look for the rest of the day
and I don't think we'd find anything very useful. Give me glass and
chrome and brass. Dirt and stone and wood don't hold fingerprints
very well. And that group of hikers from yesterday who found the
campsite... What did Jonas say? They searched the area for over an
hour. They didn't find her or any obvious sign of her. If there
were any useful footprints, they've been obscured and, if there was
an odd scrap of paper, it's been neatly composted by this time.
Whatever there may have been to find is gone. We only know where
she disappeared from, but not where she went or why she left so
suddenly."

Shadowed green and brown eyes stared into the trees, trying to
read their secrets. "A woodsman I'm not," Mulder admitted with
irritation. "There are others far better equipped for that.
Besides, you can never convince me that she just wandered away from
camp and had some kind of an accident. To slip and twist an ankle,
to be attacked by a bear, bitten by a snake... Scully's just too
careful, too conscientious. Those kinds of things just would never
happen to Dana Scully. To me, yes. To Scully never. My mind is
usually several million miles away, Scully lives in the here and
now. And to get lost? Not a chance."

Restlessly, Mulder threw a stick over the embankment, listened
for the sound of its landing far below. "On our last real case
together we had to camp out for days in the Everglades during a
hurricane. Considering everything that could have happened, Scully
only got an allergic reaction to some insect bites and the only
reason she got those is because I pitched her tent in the wrong
spot. But who lost most of our food and our medical supplies and
who did a foul-tempered skunk walk in on?"

Evan almost choked on the water he was drinking from Dana's
water bottle.

"What's wrong?" Mulder asked, suspiciously.

"Oh, nothing," Evan replied, trying to exude an air of
innocence. "Just something Dana told me during one of those long
hours while she was waiting to be allowed back into ICU to see you
after the business with Angela. Something she wants very badly to
apologize for... but I'll let her do that herself." Mulder's
furrowed brow told Evan he was unwilling to let it go, but Evan
gestured that he was ready to continue and started jogging slowly
back towards the parking lot before the agent could start in with
more questions. Still perplexed by the other man's comment, Mulder
hesitated, watching Evan trot on. After a second he shook himself.
He would let the matter drop... for now.

"So you're suspicious of Taylor County's crime wave?" Evan
asked as Mulder caught up and drew alongside with depressing ease.
"Jonas thinks it could be drug related."

"The disintegration of the morals of the young in America's
heartland is always blamed on drugs," Mulder recited in short
bursts between his long running breaths. They passed another
shelter. One more to go. Mulder slowed to a fast walk on an uphill
slope and Evan's leg muscles made no complaint. "The problem is,
they're usually right. You were correct, you know, when you said
that Scully was good at her job. Scully has extraordinary
instincts. If she caught wind of some operation going on around
here, she would have done something. It would be like her to engage
in a little preliminary investigating on her own, vacation or
pilgrimage not withstanding. If she was asking questions, even
casual ones, she could have gotten the attention of some nasty
customers with a healthy respect for the FBI and an understandable
concern for the continued existence of their little private
enterprise. I feel confident she came out here to commune with
nature for her own reasons, but I also feel certain that she was
followed."

"Shit."

"Can we go on?" Mulder asked, anxiously. "We have a car coming
for us."

"In a moment." Evan snatched a swallow of water from the water
bottle he found he still carried in his pocket. He offered some to
Mulder who declined with a short, abrupt movement of his head.
"Aren't you going to tell Jonas about your suspicions?" Evan asked.

"And have the combined forces of the Taylor and Hardy County
police departments crawling all over the Sugar Shack and scaring
away any hope of finding a lead? I don't think so. And I feel we
have to move quickly. We've seen how fast news travels in this
county."

********
Blackwater Falls State Park
Wednesday 1pm
December 19

As requested, Mulder gave the Sheriff's radio to the leader of
the first search team they encountered. They met near the first
shelter. The team of six was made up of both sexes and all shapes,
sizes and ages, but all had the same serious set to their faces.
Evan thought it was an interesting mix of types, but there was no
time to ask questions. One of the members was Marjorie Folkes,
Amanda Galling's dark-haired daughter. She announced that she was
also their ride back to the lodge where they had left Evan's car.

For a while they jogged together, Marjorie respecting Mulder's
mood with her silence as they headed down the mountain. Near the
parking lot, while Mulder ran impatiently ahead, Evan paced next to
the slender, dark haired woman and finally told her what they had
seen at the shelter. The tale was as brief as what they had found
there. She touched his arm in sympathy.

At the Lodge the two men changed into less 'official' clothes.
Their luggage had been packed in Evan's Blazer for they had taken
everything from the Bed and Breakfast that morning. Despite all
that had happened and all that had come to light, there was still
so much unknown. Evan had to wonder if this was progress.

Jeans were the dress of the day and as casual of a shirt as
either had brought. Mulder's jeans were worn, as was his faded blue
plaid flannel shirt, which made him look both younger and more
pale. The boots he had brought were worn, mid-grade utility boots,
not the fancy hiking kind. The short down jacket had seen better
days. Somehow this all surprised Evan, who had expected Mulder's
casual wear to mirror his choice in suits. Evan slipped a long-
sleeve soccer shirt over his head. His fingers shook unsteadily as
he struggled to unlace the stiff new boots so he could pull on his
jeans. As he fumbled with the boots laces, Mulder prowled
restlessly, eager to be off.

Dressing was not like putting on a disguise at all, Even
thought, though that was what they were doing, going into the enemy
camp hoping to overhear secrets. Evan wondered if for Mulder the
process was more like putting on armor - preparations for going
into battle. His face was that grim.

"Mulder," Evan began, glancing up, the last bit of lace in his
hands, "aren't you afraid of scaring suspects away when you wear an
expression like that?"

"That bad?" The muscles softened a little. Not enough, in
Evan's estimation, but probably all the agent could do under the
circumstances.

"You don't go undercover often, do you?" Evan asked.

"We're not going undercover."

"Not exactly, but something like it. But you don't, do you?"

"Not often. My drama teacher in high school said I was
hopeless and warned me not to bet heavily in poker." The humor did
not reach his eyes but he was trying. Mulder knew that if he did
not work through the tension that had built up in him, he would
endanger his effectiveness, and that he could not afford. As Evan
drove them back into town, he slouched down in the seat, thinking.

The Sugar Shack was situated within a short commercial strip
of small shops located along Deacon's Chapel's main and only
commercial street. One of the storefronts also housed the small
county library. By prior agreement, the two men split up. One
stranger would attract less attention than two. Besides, if the
restaurant had to be under surveillance for hours, they would need
to work in shifts.

Evan watched as Mulder entered the restaurant, head down,
shoulders hunched, hands in his pockets. A weary, rather forlorn
figure if one did not look into the piercing eyes. After waiting in
the car a few minutes, Evan headed for the hardware store. It was
a good place, an old place, smelling of new wood and old dust and
oil, with shelves packed with every conceivable hardware and
household item piled higher than Evan's head. But no young people
were here, not that Evan had expected any. Not the sort of place
high schoolers would go to escape Geometry.

Remembering the woods and how they could easily end up out
there again and for who knew how long, he bought a small day pack,
a flashlight, a canteen with a strap, and some packets of trail
food - nuts and dried fruit, beef jerky and freeze-dried ice cream.
His boy scout leader would have been proud. As he lingered over the
items on the shelves, he listened to the men in the shop talking.
They were gathered around what Evan could have sworn was an old
pickle barrel.

They were commenting on the FBI being in town and something
about a search party being organized but that was all. The details
or who and where, at least, did not seem to have gotten out yet.
Evan paid for his purchases with cash, packing everything into the
day pack, and did not allow himself to make eye contact with the
shopkeeper. He could not afford to be pulled into a conversation,
not today and not about this.

Evan's respect for the agent's instincts had risen
significantly. Mulder had deduced that if they wanted to catch
anyone in this county unaware, they needed to hurry. And yet even
now they might be too late.

Evan wandered back to the car and opened the trunk. He added
his well stocked first aid kit to the day pack and then checked his
watch. Still too early to spell Mulder at the restaurant. Canteen
in hand, he headed for the library. One could always find a water
fountain in a library.

A bell tinkled as Mulder entered the restaurant. He took his
time, pausing to read the postings on the community bulletin board.
The people were like people everywhere - selling houses and land
and cars, mostly cars, and offering handyman and beauty care
services. Under his lashes his eyes studied the patrons. There were
about ten young people of junior high or high school age, probably
more because the long walls of the room were lined with high-backed
booths and from his current position he could not see into them
all. Casually, he wandered to the cash register and bought a local
map. Between that and looking over the offerings on the ancient
jute box, he was able to inventory the remaining customers. To
Mulder's relief they were not all young. He and Evan would not seem
so out of place after all. There were three or four people his own
age having lunch. Either the food was not so bad or a town of this
size could not support too many eating establishments.

Standing at the jute box, eyes unfocused, Mulder soaked in the
sound bites of as many of the conversations as he could. Cars,
boys, girls, boys and cars, hair tinting disasters, off-color jokes
about teachers, scandalous remarks about teachers having affairs
with teachers, more cars, television, monster trucks, lousy food,
parents, soap operas, more scandalous remarks but this time about
teachers and students. It was one-thirty in the afternoon on the
Wednesday before Christmas with school supposedly still in session
and these kids were here. Not bad kids but on the edge. The ones
who played truant.

No conversation sparked Mulder's attention, but one boy did.
One boy sat alone in a booth, a plate of fries and a half-eaten
burger in front of him, a strong farm boy of about fifteen with red
hair and a curse of acne that looked even worse on his ruddy
complexion. He squirmed on the worn, wooden bench of the booth in
a nervous way, picking at his food. Mulder made certain that his
eyes slid across the boy without a hint of interest. Seeing all he
needed to for the moment, Mulder took the map and stopped at the
vending machine to buy a candy bar he did not intend to eat. In
this way he was able to approach the row of booths from the
opposite direction and slide into the booth behind the one where
the boy sat, without the young man being able to see him coming.
Mulder spread out the map and prepared to wait.

The digital display on Mulder's watch changed figures slowly.
The boy still sat alone and was silent though Mulder could feel the
booth shift as the boy fidgeted. The teenager was waiting for
someone, otherwise he would have gone off and done something more
to his liking. None of the other young people talked to him, Mulder
noted. An outsider, then. A loner.

A waitress took his order which was the item on the menu
Mulder hoped would take the longest to prepare but for which he had
no appetite - pizza again. Mulder coughed, drank some water and
pointed to what he wanted on the menu so the boy behind would not
become anxious at the sound of a stranger's accent.

As he waited, Mulder examined the map, or appeared to, but did
not really see the little red and blue lines, or the green blotches
of forest which were everywhere. He focused on sounds, and the
shifting of the booth and, occasionally, the view out the window at
the end of the narrow room. He saw Evan leave the hardware store,
stop at the car and then enter the library. More time passed which
Mulder felt he could ill afford.

This was impossible! Sitting and doing essentially nothing was
maddening, but, much as he racked his brain, Mulder could not think
of any better plan. Dana was out there, he was certain of it, she
needed him - and here he was sitting at a table in front of a
suspiciously untasted cold pizza and doing nothing to help. Mulder
ran the fingers of one hand through his hair. Idly, he unwound the
handkerchief and stared at the pink scratches on his palm. If he
could think of anything else to do he would do it, but there was so
precious little to go on - just a twitchy kid and a buzz between
his shoulder blades that told Fox things that he had learned long
ago to listen to. But it was hard to trust the instincts when there
was so much at stake and Mulder began to seriously worry if he had
chosen the wrong quarry this time.

A few more minutes passed. The laughter of the tall boys and
girls now gathered around a table at the far corner of the room was
raucous, flirting, painful. The hands of the wall clock crept on.
Almost time for Evan to come. Mulder rolled his shoulders forward
and back, trying to loosen the tightness. The buzz was worse,
almost numbing. Ten seconds later the door to the restaurant was
thrown open. The small bell rang harshly. Every muscle in Mulder's
long frame hardened as another boy rushed into the room, a smaller
boy than the first but about the same age, one with a face covered
with too many freckles and a carrot top of hair curled like a
ram's. Maybe they were brothers or cousins. Mulder reached for a
piece of pizza hoping his hand appeared as steady as it should be.
Steady certainly did not describe him at the moment. The boy passed
by him with only the hint of a wary glance in the stranger's
direction and Mulder felt the wood frame of the seat move as the
boy slid into the booth behind. Mulder dropped the cold, greasy
triangle of bread and cheese as if it had burned him.

"Jesus, Kevin, where have you been?" The harsh whisper must
have come from the boy who had waited.

"I got here as fast as I could. My old man caught me at home.
At least he was in too much of a hurry to give me a hard time."

"What was your old man doing home at this time of day?"

The voices were low. Mulder had to strain but most of the
words were clear enough. The more they talked the louder their
voices would go. That was the way it happened. Small talk, then,
would make this easier. Lots of small talk first.

"Jim, haven't you heard? Cripes, where have you been! The FBI
is here. The town is crawling with them. My Dad came home to get
his gear and to pick up Mom so she could take over the store while
he went to join one of old Eli's search teams." The voice dropped
but Mulder heard the tense whisper like a knife going through to
his heart. "Jim," said the whisper, "they found the car."

"Shit," the one called Jim, the one who had waited, breathed
out slowly. "Do you think they're looking for her? Is that why
they're here?"

Mulder's stomach knotted and dropped down where it had no
place being. His fingers gripped the edge of the table as if to
brace his whole body. 'Her' had to be Dana. No one else. And these
two knew.

"Who else would they be looking for? You're dumber than a post
sometimes, Jimmy. They certainly aren't here looking for a two-bit
pusher like Lester King."

Kevin's voice was shaking badly. "It's all going to go down,
Man. Like I told you. It's all going to go."

"Forget that, Jimmy. Les wants to see us pronto, up at the
yard."

"Oh, no.... no, you don't. I told you, Kevin, I don't want
anything to do with that creep ever again."

"Well, it's a little to late for that, isn't it," the smaller
boy said with sarcasm. "What about your sister? What about Jenny?
Remember what he said he would do to her?"

The blue and red lines of the unfolded map shifted before
Mulder's eyes. He had been on the verge of taking the boys, of
swooping down in his rage like the thundercloud. He was good at
that only this was not the time for that kind of gut reaction.
Intimidation would only make these boys too afraid to talk to him,
and what Mulder needed, more than anything at that moment, was to
know what they knew and as soon as possible. This new information
complicated the situation even further. Dana was not the only one
involved here, not the only one who could be hurt if he acted
impulsively. Jenny... someone's sister. A girl like Samantha? Was
she younger than her brother, dark of hair, bright of eye as Sam
had been? A hostage for obedience? What kind of a monster would
extract that kind of price? Someday Mulder would know exactly what
kind of monster would play those kind of games, but that day had
not yet come.

The boy Jim's voice was harsh, abrupt and too close to tears.
"I won't go. Not this time."

"Lester won't take 'no' for an answer, Jim. That's what he
told me. But I heard something in his voice this time, Jimmy. I
think he's scared. I think he's getting ready to run. Let's go this
last time and bid him 'Adios' and let the snake slink back into his
hole. Maybe then the woman can go home."

'Maybe then the woman can go home?' Those words echoed and
roared in Mulder's ears, stopped his breath.

Dana lived.

Before any other thought could come into his mind, the
restaurant opened again and a large, football player-sized presence
filled the room. Evan. Swearing under his breath, Mulder shot his
temporary partner a murderous glance and made a silent gesture with
one hand which made it clear to Evan that under no circumstances
was he to stop at Mulder's table. Evan caught on quickly and took
a chair at a table at the far end of the room, his expression
slightly puzzled.

"See that?" Kevin hissed referring to Evan's passage. "That
could be an FBI agent. We have to get out of here."

The two broke from their booth noisily. Mulder could hear the
sound of change being slapped down on the formica table top for a
tip. The boys were barely out the door before Mulder had slipped
from his own booth. He dropped a five on the table as Evan joined
him.

"What?" Evan whispered.

Mulder padded to the door, every fiber of his body quivering
in readiness. He watched as the boys got into a wreck of an ancient
pickup and pulled out of the parking lot. The license plate number
burned irrevocably into his brain. "They know," was all Mulder
needed to say. "I drive," he added but Evan was already pushing the
keys into his hand.

"You won't get any argument from me."

End of Book II, Chapter 12

=====================================================================
======

JUST THE TWO OF US: Book II Mulder and Evan (13/14)
By S. Esty (AKA Windsinger@aol.com)

See disclaimer part 1/14. Copyright 1996 by Sue Esty

Chapter 13

Deacon's Chapel, West Virginia
Wednesday 2:30pm
December 19, 1993

Mulder and Evan sprinted for the car. Mulder took the driver's
seat at a run. Evan opened the back door, threw in the new day pack
he had slung over his shoulder and crawled in, lying down across
the back seat. Mulder did not bother to ask the reason for Evan's
odd behavior as he pulled out, following the slight cloud of dust
and the larger cloud of burning oil fumes from the pick up occupied
by the two teenagers. His hands on the wheel were clenched so tight
that they appeared to be little more than sinew and bone. Within
thirty seconds, he had the ancient truck in sight. It was moving at
a leisurely pace, perhaps the only pace it was capable of and
Mulder dropped his own speed. From where he lay across the back
seat Evan sensed the muscles of the driver uncoiling a little.

Five minutes passed. The truck continued on, seemingly
oblivious to being followed. Mulder's shoulders relaxed further as
the first of the adrenaline rush passed. "What are you doing back
there?" he asked, glancing back.

"Keeping out of sight," Evan said in his most reasonable
tone. "I thought one man driving alone this time of day would look
less conspicuous than two."

"Evan, you watch too much television," the agent stated
flatly.

Evan had to admit he was feeling a little absurd. As he
watched Mulder shift around in the seat to pull out his gun and
check the clip, however, he felt less ridiculous.

The truck kept to the narrow, winding main road for twenty
minutes. Evan was sitting up in the back now, peering through the
wind shield from between the two front seats. Time. The sun was
still high but beginning to drop. Being now a mid-winter afternoon,
the barren tree limbs cast their dark shadows across the road. The
road followed the bed of a wide stream and the tall hills rose
above them on each side.

Mulder drove and fought the tightness in his belly. This
Lester, whoever he was, was a drug dealer and the boys - maybe
brothers, maybe cousins, certainly some relation - had obviously
gotten sucked into the glorious idea of working for the man.

Dana's car. They knew about the car and were probably the ones
who had broken in. And Dana, they knew about her. So did Lester. As
furious as he was at these people and as scared for Dana, Mulder
did not think for a minute that these two frightened children would
have hurt her. This Lester, however, very possibly. His theory
seemed to be playing out. Dana had sensed the games going on in
this town and had gotten too close, asked too many questions and
the dealer had panicked. From the boys conversation it seemed that
he had her confined someplace and was trying to decide what to do
with her.

A icy phantom hand suddenly squeezed Mulder's heart until
black spots appeared in his sight. Scully was a lovely woman, her
face, her body... She was strong for a woman but not invincible. If
a scum like that had taken her as hostage or prisoner, what else
had the man done?

Mulder's strong hands tightened around the wheel again, a
cramp started in his neck from the rigid way he held his jaw.

He had to force himself not to think of Scully as being the
one he was on his way to rescue. Remembering the living, breathing
reality of her was too distracting. But she was his partner, his
friend. Those long all night work sessions in the office came back
to him. Her handing him an unasked for cup of coffee along with the
file he had requested. Her attacking his wild theories with equally
wild, but more conventional explanations, all the while harboring
a little humorous spark behind those blue eyes. 'Listen to how
absurd we sound!' the spark seemed to say. How could he function if
he remembered that woman? Now, more than ever, she needed him sharp
and rational.

"They're turning," Evan stated unnecessarily. His voice did
not sound normal.

Mulder slowed to let the truck get further ahead, then he
turned the car, heading in the direction indicated by an ancient,
ill-kept sign which read "State of West Virginia, Division of
Parks, Maintenance Yard C."

"The boy, Kevin, mentioned a 'yard'," Mulder told his
companion, inclining his head towards the sign as they passed.
"We're almost there."

Up ahead, through the leaf-barren tree branches, the road
twisted up and up towards a flat area, cleared of trees, which was
obviously an extensive storage facility for road equipment. Parked
along the edge were visible the bulky forms of large trucks and
earth-moving equipment. Mulder rolled down his window, slowing even
further. Echoing from hill to hill they could hear the sound of
gunfire. Slow, premeditated shots. Target practice. The sounds had
ceased about the time the boys would have reached the top of the
hill.

"Evan, this is not what you signed up for. You don't have a
gun, do you?"

Leaning further over from the back seat, Evan grumbled, "I
wondered when you were going to bring that up."

Without taking his eyes from the road Mulder reached for his
cellular, which was lying between the front seats. It was just as
useless as it had been for the past twenty-four hours. In
frustration, Mulder hurled the instrument to land with an oath and
an infuriated crack against the passenger door.

Mulder pulled off the gravel track and slid the car in under
the lowering branches of some small conifers. No one up on the hill
would be able to see the vehicle from there. As he stepped out of
the car, he pulled out his service weapon. "I should leave you
here," he said over the roof. When Evan opened his mouth to
protest, he added, "or send you back to find a phone."

Evan struggled out from the back seat. "What good would that
do, Mulder? Every available official and most of the able-bodied
people in town are out with one or the other of the search parties.
We left town in almost the opposite direction from the lodge and
the trails. Once I reached the sheriff's office, I could get the
switchboard to radio, but Jonas and his people are at least three-
quarters of an hour's drive away and that's after they climb down
off the mountain." Evan grabbed the strap of his back pack
containing the first aid kit and threw it over his shoulders. His
eyes, full of what was unusual fire for Evan, locked onto Mulder's
fathomless, still ones. "Mulder...Fox, let me come. As a
physician, I admit, I'm out of practice, but if she's hurt I can
help."

There was nothing else that could have convinced Mulder at
that moment. Evan could see shifting in the shadows which darkened
Mulder's face. "It's against my better judgement, it's not
according to the book, but then, as Scully would say, the book
doesn't mean much to me. Come then but don't get in the way. I
don't want to have to worry about two of you."

"Don't forget to worry about yourself," Evan murmured
warningly as he followed, stooping to pass under the trees.

They did not follow the road but circled until the steep
hillside they needed to scale was broken by a series of deep ruts
made by what was primarily a runoff stream. Water-loving small
trees had grown up following its course. Here was a place that
could be climbed.

Evan swore when he stepped into a deep pile of leaves and
heard them crackle. He feared his cumbersome movements would be
heard half way back to town. Mulder on the other hand was, once
again, moving like a forest creature, a wraith, picking his way
from solid log to rock with hardly a rustle. Evan wondered as
before where the clumsy individual was who, Dana said, Mulder
thought he was. She did not think him clumsy at all, though he had
his awkward moments when self conscious or preoccupied. Was he
clumsy with her out of shyness or was he simply absorbed with
watching out for her, and himself, too? Or was he just being more
careful now because this was her life he was fighting for?

Reaching the lip of the cleared space, the two men climbed the
last few feet to come up crouched behind a row of large dump
trucks, the ones with mammoth plow scoops mounted in front. The
trucks and the plows were red with rust where the weather and salt
had long since chipped away their yellow paint. In fact, most of
the equipment they could see appeared to have been abandoned. This
was not an active storage yard then, but a dumping ground and
probably seldom visited. They slowly circled the perimeter, peering
out from behind the disintegrating monsters of metal and rubber to
find stacks of railroad timbers, huge triangular hills of telephone
poles, and oil drums stacked twice as tall as a man. In the center
of the compound was a single building, a metal quonset hut with two
service bays and what looked like a small office. Mulder's eyes
stared at the door leading into that office.

The two boys had parked their truck outside the open service
bay door and were talking to a sallow-faced man of medium height
and build with oily, slicked-back, black hair. A man with a gun in
his hand. Evan heard Mulder swear softly beside him. The man,
obviously this Lester King the boys had talked about in the
restaurant, did not hold the gun menacingly, but its presence made
the situation much more dangerous. This was clearly the source of
the shots they had heard earlier.

"Stay here," Mulder ordered in a harsh whisper. "Move and I'll
kill you myself." Bent over, gun down beside his right leg Mulder
began making his way to the left.

"I can take a hint," Evan muttered after him.

Over the next few long seconds, as he watched the tall,
slender shadow flit, zigzagging across the yard from one concealing
piece of road equipment to another, Evan deduced the basics of
Mulder's plan. The agent was going to circle the lot and come up on
the other side of the building. That would put the building between
him and Lester and the boys for the greatest time. Obediently, the
large blond man stayed down, feeling the sweat on his body from the
tension and the climb beginning to cool. His position was
frustrating. He could see the three, could watch the agitation in
their body language, but could not hear what they were saying.

Convinced that he would not be noticed, Evan began to slip
from snow plow, to earth mover, to wood stack until he was
squatting behind a row of huge, rusted oil drums stacked three
high. Through the cracks between the drums he could see fairly well
and hear much better than he had been able to from where Mulder had
left him. As he crouched, Evan knew one thing for sure - he was
going to be of no help here. He wanted to be - the actions of the
dealer made him sick - but Evan also knew how big and awkward he
was. He could tackle, but this was not football. He could not
tackle a bullet and had no gun. Would not know how to use one if he
did. That sort of excitement he would leave to Mulder and Dana.

"- Don't give me that, Jimmy," Lester was saying in a voice as
oily as his hair. "I've a lot invested in you. You have the
contacts. You can't just walk away."

The boy was shifting his weight from foot to foot, arms
wrapped about his body as if he was cold. He might be, the sun was
dropping and the group of three were standing in shadow, but Evan
doubted that a chill was the only reason for the boy's discomfort.
Lester had a good fire going in one of the empty oil cans. Evan
could see the tops of the flames licking over the edge.

"I made a mistake, okay?" the boy was saying. "It's not fun
anymore. The guys won't pay and I don't want to have to make them.
I can't do the kinds of things you tell me I have to do. I'll pay
you off."

Lester threw back his head. "Ten thousand? How long do you
think it would take you to pay back ten thousand?" The tone changed
from spitefully incredulous to mean. "Too damn long, that's how
long. Now there are things you can do. Some more jobs, for
instance." The boys' faces were frozen with fear and disgust as
that oily voice rolled towards them.

"It's not tourist season," the smaller boy, Kevin, complained.

"And why hit only the tourists? What about the townspeople?"
I hear most of them leave their doors wide open."

Jimmy's dark red head was shaking violently in the negative.

King took two quick steps and grabbed the boy by the front of
his coat. "You disappoint me, Jimmy. I thought you were beginning
to get some guts, but you're picking the wrong time and place to
seek the moral high ground. Standing up to me is the wrong kind of
guts. There are worse things then burglary. You want to come to the
big city with me? You and your cousin there and your pretty sister?
There are people there who will pay well for some nice fresh ...
meat."

The way he said 'meat' made Evan's skin crawl. His intent
clearly affected the boys as well. With a sudden flare of anger and
disgust Jimmy brought his hands up and pushed Lester away. "Get
your stinking hands the hell off me!" The dealer responded by
backhanding the teen with the hand which had the gun in it. Jimmy
fell back with force to land with a grunt against a old rusted car.

"Hey, King, lay off," Kevin cried going to his cousin's aid.

In dropping down to help, Kevin must have seen something
through the junked car's broken windows - probably Mulder from the
direction of the boy's gaze - Mulder creeping up on the three,
hoping to use the fight as a diversion. The boy tensed in surprise.
His unconscious reaction caught Lester's attention. The dealer
swore, raised his gun, and fired at something Evan could not see.
While Lester was distracted, the boys scrambled up from the ground
and pulled themselves behind the oil drum where the fire burned.
Combining their strength, they managed to tip it over to spill out
in Lester's direction.

Lester King howled as charcoal and flaming bits of split wood
and ashes fell over his feet. The flames made him angry - and fast.
Roaring furiously, he leaped aside and brought the gun down, firing
point blank at the troublesome Jimmy. Even as the gun's barrel
searched for its target, even though he knew he would be too late,
Evan leaped to his feet to race around the end of the barrels. What
Evan got was a full view of the scene. Jumping in front of his
cousin with a cry of alarm, Kevin took the bullet meant for his
cousin and went down clutching his chest, blood spurting from
between his fingers.

Still unseen by any of the three, Evan took two running steps
towards the fallen boy before remembering Lester's gun. As he
hesitated, he saw the fire. The boys had upended the barrel inside
an engine service bay, a place full of old dust and oil and paint
cans. The fire spread quickly, eating its way across the greasy
floor and out into the yard. Though the flames were hard to make
out in the sun, Evan saw them dancing in the shade in front of the
open bay door, hungrily licking up the sides of some of the barrels
stacked outside.

And Mulder's dark head could just be seen around the side of
the building near those barrels but not in any position to see the
fire.

As he leaped for the shelter of a pile of timber, Evan
screamed at the top of his considerable lungs, "Mulder! Run!" and
out of the corner of his eye, saw a lean, dark form do the
equivalent of a standing broad jump backwards just as the barrels
exploded.

Three explosions, first one and then two others, rocked the
yard, far enough away from the building walls, at least, so that
the structure swayed alarmingly, but stood. The flames were now
roaring up ten feet into the air or more. Evan clambered to his
feet, staring at the gap between the building and the blaze, but
there was no sign of Mulder. A sharp glance at the bay opening
revealed King, barely on his feet. The boy Jimmy was huddled on the
ground, trying to protect the body of his cousin from the falling
dust and the flames and sobbing hysterically.

Rapidly, Evan figured that he had three options: Go to Kevin
whom he wanted to help, but that would put him right under King's
nose, move towards the building's office door behind which Dana
might be held, or go to Mulder's aid who had been closest of them
all to the explosion. Evan decided on Mulder. Being able to reach
the office door unnoticed was probably impossible and if Dana was
in the building she was safe for the moment. Besides, Mulder had
the gun which could protect them all and most of the way towards
Mulder's last known position was shielded from Lester by the boys'
truck and stacks of timber. If he could just make it to the truck,
Evan could keep it between himself and Lester's bullets until he
reached the area where Mulder must be.

Evan pinpointed Lester one final time. Because of the blasts,
the dealer was still moving slowly as if dazed. Now or never. Evan
sprinted. Running on a surge of adrenalin which was unusual for
him, Evan felt in his heart he was going to make it.

Or thought he was until he saw the tongue of flame he had
missed in the sunlight. The fire had followed the trail of oily
dirt right to the ancient truck which probably leaked a good supply
of oily death all by itself.

Evan turned to retreat back in the direction he had come, to
the comparative safety of the pile of timber, when the gas tank
went up with a thundering boom and a blast of heat at his back,
knocking him off his feet, onto his chest, rolling him over and
over again across the dust and gravel.

Mulder worked himself around the perimeter of the yard until
he could safely approach the building. Breathing lightly, he
pressed his back up against the rough, rusted corrugated metal wall
of the hut. On the other side of the wall was what had looked from
the front like a small office. There was no sound and no answer to
his gentle knocks. <Dana, where are you?> The door was unreachable
without exposing himself prematurely to King's view. No choice then
but to go after the greasy-haired dealer.

Along the remaining distance of the back of the building and
beside the closed long side, Mulder padded on silent feet, gun
raised in readiness. He could hear voices, but no words, and then
more clearly, just as he was nearing the edge of the building, came
Jimmy's snarl, "Get your stinking hands the hell off me!", then a
hard metallic thud and a boy's gasp of pain.

As Mulder sprang forward into the gap, Kevin's voice cried,
"Hey, King, lay off!", and the next Mulder knew, he was staring
into the boy's paralyzed, freckled face through a broken car
window, across a distance of less than ten feet. Kevin just stared,
as much scared as surprised, obviously as frightened of the sight
of Mulder's gun as he was of Lester's.

Mulder put a finger to his lips, hoped the boy would realize
he was a friend. Kevin probably did but did not respond as Mulder
would have hoped. The boy's rigid, startled posture and the
direction of his stare had gotten Lester's attention. A bullet came
whistling near Mulder's head as the boys went into action. The
teenagers were no longer in Mulder's field of view, but from the
racket, and the ensuing howls of outrage from King, they had tipped
over an oil drum somewhere inside the service bay.

In the confusion, Mulder saw his opportunity, but before he
could act chaos descended. A second gun shot ripped the air. A
boy's voice cried out in surprise and sudden agony. Another boy
shouted in terror and loss. Mulder started forward at a run, only
before he was half way to them, he was struck by the sight of Evan
pounding across the yard towards him, twice as big as a charging
bull and three times as unwelcome, eyes wide in horror screaming
for him to run. <RUN? WHY?> But something in Mulder had learned to
trust this man, this big, blond rival for a certain red-head's
affections and the agent moved as quickly as he could, turning like
an otter, propelling himself backwards from the balls of his feet
as the first explosion threw at him a searing blast of superheated
air and fire.

There was a dead time of about ten seconds in which all Mulder
knew was that his ears rang. As the high pitched whine faded, he
was washed by the unmistakable crackle and whoosh of his elemental
enemy. A tingling terror began to grow with him. For the second
time that day, the palm of one hand stung from being scraped across
the hard, uneven ground. He could feel the heat on his back from
the flames. He tried to breathe, tried to move - to go anywhere,
for anywhere was preferable to here - but found to his panic that
his muscles had locked, paralyzed in illogical response to the
threat. He buried his head under his crossed arms as a second blast
made the ground tremble and the metal on metal of the building
walls and the stacks of barrels sing. As intellect failed, locked
in mindless terror, instinct triumphed. The paralysis cracked. He
lunged for shelter, crawling like an animal away from the horror.
In the dense shadow behind a stack of thick logs he huddled,
panting and frantically gathering his shredded thoughts. Before he
could, a third blast, muffled more than the two before, threw a
shower of dirt over him.

The fire panic, consuming his mind and balling up his guts,
made composing a coherent plan nearly impossible. <There is no time
for this! You're outside!> he swore angrily to his fear. <No danger
of being trapped!> He forced himself to his feet, felt his weakened
knees giving way at first, but nothing damaged - thank God, not
this time. Staggering forward, out from behind his place of safety,
his gun still in his grip, he headed with clearing determination
towards his goal, King and the boys - just as the gas tank of the
truck exploded. The blast picked him up, threw him with the force
of a bomb against a cube of stacked wooden pallets. This time the
blackness reached out and caught him in its fist of forgetfulness.

The truck's explosion had thrown Evan to the packed ground.
Groggily, he clawed his way to his knees, then to his feet.
Standing unsteadily he realized where he was. What remained of the
truck was a blazing inferno at his back and he was completely
unprotected standing where he was within clear view of the service
bay door. Not even taking the time to ascertain where Lester was,
Evan bolted for the edge of the row of oil drums which he had
hidden behind before. This was what King saw as he came to, rubbing
his head only to find blood on his hand where the edge of a shovel
had torn the skin open. He was as startled as Evan, but Lester had
the experience and the reflexes to act faster - and the firepower.

Evan heard, what was now, an unmistakable crack and, in his
best little league style, took a slider as he felt the bullet fly
over where his head had been.

King did not even take time to see what he had brought to
ground. A coward to his bones, he reached down to where Jimmy still
cried over Kevin's blood-splattered body, grabbing the boy by the
collar. Assuming Evan was armed, Lester King had found himself a
shield in the form of Jimmy, who was a young man in the wrong
place, at the worst possible time. In two breaths, the dealer had
thrown an arm around the teenager's neck and pulled the terrified
boy to him.

Mulder found the layers of darkness binding him harder to
fight against after this fourth blast than the first. Jaw and hips,
head, chest and left arm were bruised and aching, but he had
survived by some miracle more intact than he had any right to
expect. The fire terror helped for once, not allowing him to submit
to the vulnerable darkness, driving him back to consciousness as
surely as his duty did - as surely as the sound of yet another gun
shot. Shaking his throbbing head, blinking to focus his sight,
Mulder took stock of the positions of all the players - and cursed
Evan, and the terrain, and King's position just inside the service
bay door. There was only one place Fox could place himself and be
in a position to protect both Evan and Jimmy.

No time for more thought or much planning. With a spring from
his long, strong legs, Fox sprinted, spun and rolled towards Evan
to crouch with his Glock raised in a steady two-handed grip in
front of where the other man lay with his face in the dust.

"Freeze, King. F.B.I.!" Mulder commanded in tones FBI recruits
learn only after weeks of practice. In response, King pulled the
boy more tightly against him, his gun pressing against the boy's
neck. Jimmy was shorter than King but farm-boy broad, leaving
Mulder with absolutely no target at all but the dealer's black-
haired head.

All of Mulder's senses had sprung to life, obliterating
completely the last of the clinging darkness. He had been in
similar situations far too often, and the only certainty was that
there were never two alike. These standoffs, especially those with
hostages, were always unpredictable, always scary as hell. He
longed for Scully's presence, Scully whose beauty, petite build and
uncanny aim the bad guys always underestimated. It gave their
partnership an edge, one of many, but she was not here, not likely
to be in the building office either because Mulder had watched and
the dealer's eyes had not strayed in that direction once. So Mulder
was forced to crouch here alone and watch with sympathy as the boy
squirmed and tried to kick his way free. King, clearly an
experienced coward, had done this before however, and gave the boy
no chance to escape. Jimmy's eyes bulged in sheer, absolute terror
as he found himself with the cold steel of one gun pressed to his
neck and staring down the barrel of another. The fact that the
second belonged to an FBI agent gave no boy no comfort. It was
still pointed in his direction.

For long seconds King said nothing. His face was screwed up in
an arrogant sneer but, underneath, Mulder recognized all the moves
of a very nervous and frightened man. And the man was thinking.
Without a doubt King was a coward, but not nearly as stupid as he
looked.

Since Mulder's startling entrance, Evan had tried to make like
a puddle of water and soak right into the ground. Evan knew very
well he was exactly where he had promised he would not be - in the
way. The last thing he wanted was to endanger either himself or
Mulder by being a target. On top of all his other responsibilities,
the agent did not need to worry about protecting the temporary
partner he had been forced to accept.

"Put down your gun, King," Mulder ordered in the same imposing
voice as before.

"How you gonna make me, FBI?" Lester smiled, a leer full of
exhilaration as he realized he was in control here. "I've got the
cards. You can't let the boy get hurt and you don't dare kill me."

"I wouldn't know about that," Mulder growled, gun steady as a
rock. "I don't see a good reason not to blow the top of your
useless head off."

King chuckled and took a more crushing grip around Jimmy's
neck. The boy's face was grey and his struggles, which had been
furious at first, had ceased except for his hands which were trying
vainly to claw the iron limb from his throat.

"Blow my head off? Oh, I don't think you want to do that, FBI.
I've got something up there you want." He let that settle for
effect. "Like the location of a certain, red-headed woman? Friend
of yours?" The tone was insultingly suggestive.

Evan turned his head. From his vantage point he could see only
the back of Mulder's dark figure crouched before him, but even he
could detect the subtle contraction of the whole form.

"Have you hurt her?" Mulder asked. Evan knew Mulder had
attempted to keep the inquiry cool and professional. Knew just as
completely that he had not been entirely successful.

"Hmmm. Let's just say she was unfortunate in the acquaintances
she made while she was here. She should have kept that pert little
nose of hers out of things that didn't concern her."

"Where is she?" Mulder demanded.

"Ah, now that would be telling. Deal first."

"So talk."

Listening, Evan knew that he would not want to stand up too
often to the deadly cold he was hearing in Mulder's voice.

"I can offer leniency," the agent was warning, laying the
ground rules, "but only if no one is killed." Mulder's glance
flickered to Kevin's still body. "That boy needs to get to a
hospital."

Jimmy tried to open his mouth, but Lester must have felt the
movement and shut off the speech with a tightening of his arm
against the boy's larynx.

"Ha! And just what sort of deal would that get me? Knock
twenty years off a fifty year sentence? I don't go so cheap.
Remember, I hold all the cards. I get the car and I'm out of here."

"And Agent Scully?" Mulder asked, voice deep, slow and
distinct. With all the publicity, King must know who it was he had
by now. Doing harm to a federal agent carried a penalty of which
even a small time hood like King must be aware.

"If I get away clean I'll call you in a couple of days and
give you directions to where she can be found, though my memory may
need some incentive so you'd better save your pennies."

A growl began low in Mulder's chest. Bad. This was bad. A
hostage - Jimmy. Two, actually, if he counted Evan, who at least
was keeping still and trying not to play the hero, but his presence
significantly lessened Mulder's mobility. And then a third - Scully
- and what amounted to kidnapping with threats of a ransom, which
the FBI almost always refused to pay. The growl began to break,
shatter. <Oh, Scully, if only I didn't know so clearly what you
would demand that I do here.> To her bright, stubborn, play-it-by-
the-book mind letting King off was not even a choice. Something not
to be considered.

Stalemate, then. The playing field had to change before the
scales could tip one way or the other, and Mulder was determined
that he would not be the one who changed the rules.

"Hurry, Mister FBI Agent," King mocked scornfully. "My arm is
getting tired. Remember, if you kill me you will never find her and
then she dies... oh, so very, very slowly."

Mulder forced himself to block out the words and the visions
seeking to overwhelm him. In two seconds he went through all the
options. Tragically, the circumstances were not unique and his
choices not pleasant. He knew King felt that his back was against
the wall and an animal was always at its most dangerous when it was
trapped. King was clearly capable of killing. Mulder could also see
by the way Kevin's body lay that the boy was certainly dead. If
King had come to the same conclusion, then everyone knew the man
was already a murderer, leaving Mulder with little with which to
deal, except King's life here and now. Mulder considered trying for
a non-fatal wound, but Jimmy's presence prevented that. If in
trying for a conservative shot, Mulder missed and did not wound
King sufficiently, would King panic and shoot his hostage? Almost
certainly. And if Mulder hit Jimmy in his attempt to try for King's
gun arm or leg, the boy would be just as dead, regardless of whose
bullet hit him.

While all these options were running through Mulder's mind, a
tiny voice in the back of his skull forced him to consider the
possibility that King was lying. Maybe the dealer didn't have
Scully. And if he did have her, and she was clearly not here, then
the chances were high that she was already dead. King was a loner,
which meant no guard, and did not seem the type to trust any lock
to hold his prisoner.

<Dana... oh, Dana, what would...?> Mulder never had time to
finish his question.

A sound rose up suddenly, echoing back and forth from mountain
to mountains.

Mulder and Evan never agreed on where the sound came from.
They never found the source, nor could either ever identify it.
They were too far from the road for it to be a car. Maybe a diesel
downshifting. Maybe an ultralight, someone coming in his light
aircraft to help Sheriff Jonas in his search. Maybe a teen sneaking
out of last period study hall to squeal the tires of his ATV around
the old logging roads. King, for all his self-confidence, was
distracted by the sound. It was his shifting which panicked Jimmy,
who found some strength to surge once more against the arm around
his throat. The suddenness threw off Lester's balance, but letting
the boy loose was not on his list of options.

Mulder saw Lester's gun arm twitch, the fingers around the gun
grip begin to contract ever so slightly.

There was no longer a choice to make, there was no time. With
cold finality Mulder pulled the trigger, knowing full well that
Dana would understand, that she would demand this of him. That she
would have been the first to make the same decision. In his head
Mulder knew this was the only decision open to him, but in his guts
the last he would have chosen. Lester fell, seemingly in slow
motion away from the boy, eyes wide in death, brains blown out the
back of his head in a cloud of blood. Just as surely, Mulder felt
as if he had taken the bullet into his own heart.

End of Book II, chapter 13

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JUST THE TWO OF US: Book II Mulder and Evan (14/14)
By S. Esty (AKA Windsinger@aol.com)

See disclaimer part 1/14. Copyright 1996 by Sue Esty

Chapter 14

Maintenance Yard C
Wednesday, 3pm
December 19

"Hold still!" Evan ordered. Jimmy squirmed as Evan tried to
wash away the gore to find out if any of the blood was the boy's.

"Am I gonna die?" the boy asked in a tremulous voice. In
addition to the blood, the boy's body was covered in dust and dirt
- and urine if Evan smelled correctly. Hell, Evan thought, after
what had happened that pungent odor could be coming from his own
nether regions.

After the explosion of the shot within inches of his head,
Jimmy had fainted from sheer shock and terror. In those final
seconds he had felt the dead man fall, had felt those dead hands
convulsively clutching him until the end. As Evan went to the boy,
he passed Mulder who had risen from his crouch as part of the
single shot's follow through. Arms hanging limply at his sides, the
agent stood and stared at the silent, dead forms of Lester King and
the boy Kevin. After a few minutes, as a numbness crept down his
arms from his shoulders, Mulder's hand opened slightly and the gun
fell unnoticed to the ground.

Evan ran a little more water from his canteen over the dark
red scalp and dabbed it with his handkerchief. The boy moaned and
tried to pull away. "Hey, I said hold still! And no, you're not
gonna die!" Evan grumbled, pouring the ice cold water over the
boy's face. Evan knew he was being rougher than he should, but Evan
was angry. He was furious! Not at anyone in particular, just at the
whole stinking world. The boy Kevin was dead. Probably had died
instantly. And Scully...

As he worked, Evan kept glancing over at Mulder who had come
out of his daze with a vengeance. The physician worried seriously
which would break first - the frenzied man, his system exploding
with adrenalin, or the tree he had been abusing for the past five
minutes. The high smooth forehead and one cheek were scraped bloody
from the rough bark, as were the knuckles on the right hand. He
spun and stomped the ground like a wild thing, incoherently
muttering, swearing, occasionally throwing himself against the
trembling oak. And the hands kept clutching at his head, pulling at
his hair.

The boy was mesmerized, could not pull his eyes away from the
sight. "He saved my life...."

Having no desire to witness Mulder's private horror, Evan
turned to examine the scratch Lester's gun had made on the boy's
neck. "Yeah, saved your sorry excuse for a life." A little
antiseptic and the boy jumped, whimpering. "And if you ever pull a
stunt like that ever, ever again, I personally will ... will...
Well, you're going to talk to Kevin's parents about what happened
here. And then there's some confessing to do to the local
authorities about a dozen minor thefts, though I dare say they'll
figure you've had punishment enough to last a dozen lifetimes. In
the end they'll probably let you off to have nightmares over this
for the rest of your life."

Jimmy's blue eyes were still fixed on the dark man's pacing,
pacing like an animal, an animal whose cage was his own body, whose
torment was the consequences of his own actions. As the boy
watched, Mulder dropped onto the trunk of a downed tree and rocked
for long minutes with his face in his hands.

"Why does he do that?" the boy asked, incredulous. "Why does
he act like that? He's FBI, hasn't he ever killed a man before?"

More than anything at that moment Evan wanted to slap the boy
silly. Did the child honestly think killing was a game? Some macho
thing? No, a look into those frightened eyes and Evan could tell
the boy was moved to the marrow of his bones. Jimmy was not taking
this lightly. It was only the words that sounded false, the
language of the young.

And Mulder, in truth, was a sight, both scary and pitiful.
"He's killed too many, I'm sure," Evan replied. "You just don't
understand... That woman we were looking for? She was Mulder's best
friend in the whole world, probably the best friend he will ever
have. And he feels like he killed her at the same time he killed
Lester. That's what's tearing him apart. Not Lester's miserable
soul, that's for sure."

As he worked, Evan felt the boy begin to tremble, could almost
feel when the sweat broke out. Some kind of post traumatic stress?
The boy's wound was finally as clean as it was going to get under
the circumstances but, to prescribe for what the boy was feeling,
Mulder was the psychologist. Today, however, the psychologist was
not going to be of much help. Glancing over at the agent, Evan
stiffened. Mulder's scratched and bruised hand was reaching for the
holster at this hip. Finding no gun there, Mulder had began
distractedly to search the ground. Evan, however, knew where the
gun lay, still in the dust where it had dropped from Mulder's
senseless hand, closer to where Evan and Jimmy sat than to Mulder.

With forced calm, Evan took four long strides and picked up
the weapon, its heaviness a surprise. Rising with it cold and
smooth from dust in his hand, he caught Mulder staring at him.
Their eyes locked.

Evan did not want to see that devastated face, but he forced
himself to keep looking, hoping that what he was trying to say
through his eyes was getting through. <I miss her, too. Don't do
this, Mulder. Don't even think about it. Listen to me, I'm your
friend.> And Evan realized with a little shock that he was. Over
the past two weeks, Evan had slowly come to realize that being
Dana's friend meant being Mulder's, too, because they were part of
a whole, part of the same tragedy.

"You did what you had to do," Evan said across the gulf of
silence. <I don't blame you,> was in the tone of his voice. Mulder
broke contact first which was something Evan would never have
expected. The lids slid over those hazel eyes, over the pain, and
the head shook in denial. The fists were closed so tightly each
knuckle and tendon gleamed over the pale skin.

"We need to keep looking," Evan said. "Time is the enemy now."

The coil around Mulder loosened a little. His eyes opened and
fixed at the gun hanging limply in his friend's hand. "I never was
going to..." began a small, un-Mulder-like voice. "I just wanted it
with me. Scully's always getting after me for losing them." The
last words did not come out well. Mulder stared off into the huge
forest. There was a sign posted near a path - 'Storn Ridge Trail
0.8 mi.' The same trail, Evan remembered, that went by Blackwater
Falls, but that must be miles and miles away. Ten, fifteen, twenty
miles. Mulder reached into his pocket and wordlessly tossed Evan
the car keys. Then he pointed out the path with his empty, slightly
bleeding hand, turned and began to run.

Evan watched him go. Within seconds the trees swallowed up the
sight of him. Jimmy jumped up from the log where he had been
sitting and came to Evan's side. "Hey, where's he going?"

Evan swung down the backpack he still wore and packed the gun
in the very bottom. "To run, to forget, maybe to make sense of this
insanity. The trail will take him back to where they are searching
anyway. We'll meet him there." Evan reached for his first aid kit
which he had taken out for the boy. "Come on, I'll drive you to the
Sheriff's office. We need to tell them what happened here. They
need to send a team. We also need to get someone to come for Kevin.
The animals can have Lester King for all I care. I'll call Skinner,
too. Maybe the FBI can come up with something on this creep which
can give us an idea about where he might have taken her. I have a
feeling we're not going to find anything, though." <Not in time
anyway.>

The boy's head was shaking from side to side. He was jumping
from one foot to the other, prancing nervously. "No, oh no, no,"
Jimmy moaned. "No, Man, no. It was my fault. He saved my life and
it was all my fault." Suddenly, the teen began running down the
path Mulder had taken, crying out frantically, "Stop, stop! You
don't understand!"

Evan took a step, backpack in one hand and first aid kit in
the other. "What the hell... Jimmy, come back! Leave Mulder alone!
Trust me, this is not the time for thank you's."

But the boy did not stop. Evan swore, stamped his foot and
pushed the first aid kit deep down into the pack. On the run, Evan
snatched up the canteen even as he slung the straps of the pack
over his shoulders again, following the boy into the woods.

Evan was a large man with long legs, but a wrestler, a weight
lifter, not a runner. He had run enough already that day and felt
in the leaden way his legs lifted that he had not yet gotten over
his morning jog with Mulder from shelter to shelter. He thought
about just letting the boy go, let him try to catch Mulder. Evan
doubted that Jimmy could, but something told him it was important
to keep trying. Something about the boy. The boy was trying to
reach Mulder, but in some kind of panic, running in a ragged,
stumbling way which was not efficient. That was the only reason
Evan was able to catch the youth.

Just as they reached the intersection with the main trail,
Evan caught the boy by one thin arm, but had to stand for a moment,
gasping, before he could find enough breath to speak. "I thought I
said... let Mulder go. He needs to work through this."

Jimmy's eyes were wide, his face white under the flush from
his mad dash, and Evan could have sworn he saw tears as the boy
wrenched himself from side to side, striving to escape from Evan's
large hand. "I have to catch him. I have to tell him. We didn't
mean it, we didn't. She surprised us."

Evan grasped the boy by the other arm and pulled him up face
to face. Impossible thoughts were flooding him and making it hard
to think. "Jimmy, what in the hell are you talking about?"

"The woman..." the teen began, cringing. "King, he lied to
Agent Mulder. He wasn't the one who knew. He didn't know anything.
Not about where she was. He was going to have her 'removed' because
he thought she was hearing things and asking questions, but Kevin
and I, we'd already done it.... but we didn't mean to!" The last
came out with a sob, Jimmy still struggling to get back to his goal
of catching up with Mulder.

"Are you trying to say that YOU know where Dana is? That
Lester didn't know?"

Jimmy nodded frantically, "Yes -"

"He THOUGHT she was asking questions?"

"She broke up a fight between a couple of guys at a diner
outside of town. Flashed her badge, caused a lot of talk. Lester
assumed she was out to get him but I don't think she knew a thing
about it."

"Damn it, where is she!"

The boy was shaking, sobbing, threatening to crumble down onto
his knees, but Evan held him upright. "Somewhere down the rock
face. We were only trying to rob her. We followed her and when she
left her car we broke in but didn't find anything, so we figured
she had all her cash or traveler's checks with her. All the
tourists do. So we found her campsite and took her pack when her
back was turned. Such a little woman, but, Jesus, the lady had a
gun and came after us. And we ran, and we ran. We thought we lost
her twice but she kept coming back and it was getting dark and we
were scared." The boy was terrified now and trembling with guilt
and talking as fast as he wanted to be running. "So we ran up the
Storn Ridge Trail. We knew there was a spot where the trail had
washed out bad. We leaped it... Oh, my God, but in the dark she
didn't see there was no trail any more and she screamed and she
fell..."

Evan felt that he wanted to hug and kill this boy at the same
time. "Is she alive?"

"We heard some noises two days ago. We went back. We left some
food and some water and some blankets. That was the last time we
had a chance to go up there."

"Two days! And you haven't been back. And you didn't tell
anybody!"

"Lester was suspicious. We were scared. We told Les she was
dead. He wanted to check it out for himself but was too lazy to
make the hike. We couldn't let her out or tell anyone. Les would
kill us if he found out we had lied. Then he WOULD have killed her
and us, too." The boy's tear-reddened eyes were pleading. "I'm
sorry...I'm sorry. We didn't know what to do..."

Evan took his hands from the boy in exasperation, swallowed
and wiped the cold sweat from his brow, trying to decide what to do
first. Take time to catch Mulder? The Lord above knew, that was
what he wanted to do, to tell Mulder above all else, but that was
time wasted when he could be off with the boy finding the spot,
contacting the sheriff, assembling a rescue team, all the things he
should be doing, but the boy made the decision for him.

Jimmy took off and Evan could do nothing else but follow.

Mulder ran. It hurt already, in his chest, in his side, in the
muscles of his thighs, in his throat, in his eyes from the tears.
He ran to forget the feel of the metal of the gun in his hands, to
forget the sound of the explosion, to forget the deadly pulse of
the recoil in the muscles of his arms, to forget the sight of
Lester King's brains splattering all over Jimmy Hanks. <Scully,
what have I done? You found me and this is how I repay you?> He had
cut the link between them. Her sweet voice chided him, her calm
eyes accused him, her presence, which he had so accused her of
plaguing him with, was no longer with him. He ran... and kept
running.... up and down the paths, hoping against hope to find some
trace of her but not expecting to, turning right and left as the
trail wound up the mountain, until he was stumbling over roots
buried in the leaves... until through the dark haze in his mind he
heard the gun shots.

For the tenth time, Evan decided he could not run another
step, but, like all the other times, he always looked ahead, found
another landmark, a turn in the trail or a tree or a rock
outcropping to use as his next goal, and kept running.

This was insane! He had seen Mulder's body. The man had the
perfect runner's body. He and Jimmy had no chance of catching him.
The only chance they had was that Mulder was not in the best of
shape, had been sick lately and lost weight. Evan had no doubt,
however, that Mulder would run himself into the very ground itself,
and then crawl if he had to, in his attempt to escape from himself
and what he had been forced to do.

Ahead, the boy halted in a bright patch, where there was no
shadow from the golden, late afternoon winter sun. The trail here
looked over a deep slope and from this vantage point one could see
the entire side of the facing hill and make out the dim dark line
of the trail as it snaked through the leafless winter trees.
Jimmy's eyes searched and then he pointed. "There!"

And looking Evan saw. A dark movement on the opposite slope
which he would never have noticed if that side of the mountain had
been in shadow instead of the long slanted rays of the quickly
setting sun. The figure was running but not smoothly any longer,
moving forward but with a stumbling, uncoordinated gait.

Mulder.

Evan raised his voice, but he could barely breathe, and a
pitifully, weak croak was all he could make.

Frantically, Evan swung the pack down and searched in the
bottom for the gun. His hand found its cold metal and he dragged it
out.

"Get a big branch, tie your shirt to it, anything you can wave
to catch his attention," he told the boy. Then Evan raised the gun,
pointed it into the air and pulled the trigger.

Evan fired, eyes closed, the bones of his hand, his shoulder
and elbow joints cried out from the unaccustomed kick of the
weapon. He stared towards the spot where he had last seen Mulder,
but the man was still moving. The shot had sounded like thunder to
Evan and he could not believe Mulder had not heard, but maybe the
agent was too wrapped up in dark dreams or had decided to ignore
any attempt to bring him back from wherever he was.

Evan searched his mind for a pattern, wished he knew something
classy like the Morse Code for S.O.S. Not thinking clearly enough
to get his 'shorts' and 'longs' in the right order, and not having
nearly enough bullets anyway, he settled for an abbreviated version
of 'Shave and a Haircut... Two Bits', which was silly and stupid
under the circumstances but, what the hell, if it worked...

It worked. That pattern, so incongruous out here in the
wilderness was not any hunter's pattern and did cut through the
agent's closed mind. Panting, Mulder hauled himself to a stop,
clutching a sapling to keep upright, and searched in the direction
where he thought the shots had come from, though the echoes
bouncing between the hills made that determination nearly
impossible. Finally he saw it. A spot of white cloth tied to a
branch being waved by a boyishly slight figure, the action clearly
intended to catch his attention. Nearby stood another form, a
bulkier one who must be Evan, waving his arms.

Though there was no way to see expressions from this distance,
it was obvious that they wanted him. They had certainly gone to a
lot of trouble to find him, but Mulder hesitated. He did not want
to go back. He had not forgotten... anything. Then he realized that
he never would, so there really was not much point in delaying the
inevitable. With a slump in his shoulders he started back the way
he had come.

"Thank God!" Evan slid down onto a rock as he saw Mulder head
back their way. The big man's body was very unhappy with him and he
knew this was just the start of what was going to be a very long
evening. He looked over at Jimmy who had untied his t-shirt from
the branch and was pulling it back over his bare skin.

"You go to him," Evan told the boy with a small, exhausted
smile. "And tell him what you told me. Then come back and get me."

Hastily, Jimmy crawled into his sweat shirt. He was shivering
but not from the cold. "I-I'm not so sure about that."

"You were going to before."

"I've had more time to think about it. He's going to be mad."

"Yes, but he'll be more relieved than angry. Count on it. Call
it an 'opportunity for growth'. Admit your mistakes. Believe me,
Agent Mulder knows all about mistakes."

With a deep breath and crossed fingers, Jimmy headed down the
path. Evan situated himself on a rock overlooking the dip between
the two hills so that he could watch the meeting. As he drew
nearer, Mulder kept glancing up, quizzically, to Evan's position
above him. When he finally noticed the boy trotting reluctantly
down the path towards him, he turned his attention there.

It took almost three or four minutes for the two to meet. When
they did, Jimmy's dark red head was down. Evan saw Mulder's posture
stiffen, saw the agent put his hands on the boy's shoulders as he
shot his anxious questions. At one point Mulder took the boy's chin
and tilted it up so that they could look each other in the eye.
That was good, Evan thought. Mulder would see gratitude there for
what the agent had done for the boy - and guilt, and apology, and
truth.

Suddenly the two were heading quickly back up the path towards
Evan. Even from this distance the physician could see a
transformation in the way Mulder moved. No pleasure was mirrored in
the long strides. The lean body burned on the energy of grim,
urgency. Before he had simply burned.

Evan stood and shook out his aching legs. He had no doubt the
three of them would now be headed to the spot where Jimmy and Kevin
had last seen a small red-haired woman who had a gun and who had
not been willing to let them get away with anything.

End Chapter 14 and end of Book II Mulder and Evan

Continue with Book III: Fox and Dana

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