Title: "Twelfth Night" (revised)

Author: Mary Ruth Keller

E-mail: mkeller@universe.digex.net

Rating: PG-13 for violence

Category: X - an X-File

Spoilers: "Syzygy" and assorted prior episodes

Keywords: Mulder/Scully Friendship, Phoebe Green, the Lone Gunmen

Summary: On the eve of the election, Mulder and Scully are handed
a case about vanishing homeless to keep them out of an
investigation about missing artworks. A very much attached Phoebe
Green is assigned to shadow Mulder's Mother, and there's unrest
among the younger members of the Consortium. Senator Matheson
works to move Mulder and Scully out of the basement, but one of
the homeless the X-team meets may know about more than just how to
keep warm on the streets.

Disclaimer: The characters and situations of the television
program, "The X-Files" are the creation and property of Chris
Carter, 1013 Productions, and Fox Broadcasting. They have been
used without permission. No copyright infringement is intended.
Any other characters or phrases the reader recognizes belong to
their respective creators and owners, are also used without
permission, and with no intent of copyright infringement. Readers
are free to place this story on any web-page or archive as long as
my approval is first obtained, and as long as my name and E-mail
address remain attached. This work must not be used for profit.

=====o=====================================================o=====

Part IV - Kings' Day (Disclaimed in Part I)

------------------------------------------------------------------

Sebastian: If you will not undo what you have done, that is,
kill him whom you have recovered, desire it not.
Fare ye well at once: my bosom is full of kindness,
and I am yet so near the manners of my mother,
that upon the least occasion more mine eyes will
tell tales of me.

Twelfth Night; Or, What You Will

Benedick: Ha! 'Against my will I am sent to bid you come in
to dinner;' there's a double meaning in that.

Much Ado About Nothing

------------------------------------------------------------------

Apartment 42
Arlington, Virginia
Tuesday, December 31, 1996
8:02 pm

"Mulder! No!" Running over, she attempted to pull one arm away,
but the adrenaline and testosterone had knotted Mulder's muscles
into steel cables. "You're killing him, Mulder, let go! He's
unarmed, and he wants to give you some answers!"

The old man could only whisper, but his words added fuel to the
raging fire he saw in the agent's eyes. "Go ahead, Mister Mulder,
I haven't slept well in months. I get visitors in the night, faces
I never thought to see again. For months. If I die now, I'll never
have another nightmare." He was dangerously purple.

Her partner's eyes had turned dark, all the years of anger and
grief pouring into his long fingers. "He killed my Father and your
sister, Scully, and tried to kill my Mother. He had Sam kidnaped
and you too."

Scully continued to tug on her partner's arm. "You're just doing
their dirty work for them!"

But Fox Mulder was beyond reason. "Now, pay!" Mulder squeezed one
final time, cutting off his old nemesis' windpipe.

In desperation, Scully realized that she had only one weapon that
would keep her partner from a death sentence. She delivered a
quick chop to his bruised ribs, and the searing pain dropped him
like a stone.

The old man sank to his knees, gasping for air.

Mulder groaned, holding his side. "Why, Scully, why? He was
responsible for all of it."

Leaning over her partner, she reached to help him to his feet. "We
don't know that, but if you were to kill him, your career at the
FBI would be finished. Skinner couldn't prevent the filing of
murder charges against you. Your enemies would pour out of the
woodwork, taking the opportunity to turn your trial into a
lynching party."

The old spy pulled himself up along the wall. "She's right, you
know. She always had more sense than you, always."

Mulder used her outstretched arms to bring him to his feet, but
his hatred still controlled him, demanding an outlet, so he slung
her into one of the mission chairs. "You're his spy, aren't you?
His little spy, sent to worm your way into my trust!"

Scully glared up at her partner. <Mulder, what does it take to
prove my loyalty to you?> Her disbelief lasted long enough for him
to drag her up and shake her before her protective instincts took
over.

The old man used the distraction to leave, the front door hanging
open behind him.

Twisting her arms free, Scully backed away, still attempting to
reason with her partner. "Mulder, I'm not his spy and I never was.
Blevins assigned me to observe you, he didn't. I'm your *partner*,
not an observer, not a spy, and I *thought* your friend."

Mulder's rage swelled. "I don't need friends! I don't need a
partner, and I don't need you!" His long arms extended, he charged
her.

She deflected him, sending him sprawling on the sofa as she
scrambled towards the front room and escape, pressing one hand
against her bruised abdomen. <How can you do this, Mulder?>

But, pumped full of endorphins, he shot off the sofa, crossing the
room in two leaping steps. Catching her by the hair, he yanked her
head back and spun her around. "You always belonged to them,
didn't you?" They were nose to nose, their arguments at Comity
appearing, like an eerie portent, in her mind. "Never to me!"

Scully sagged in Mulder's hands, using gravity to force him to
release her, but he pushed her down on the floor, straddling her
and pinning her arms up over her head. "Never to me! Never ... to
.. me!"

Scully thrashed, her mind and body remembering Phasters' insane
face hovering over her. "Mulder! Let me go!" Twisting, she
struggled to pull her knees into a position where she could throw
her partner off her without injuring him further.

But as quickly as she moved, Mulder countered, sitting on her
hips, pinning her shoulders to the floor with his knees. "I leave
you alone with him for a few minutes, and you turn against me,
like they all do. Were you going to tell him where all the papers
were, Scully, were you?"

She clenched her jaw, then shouted. "Never. How could you, after
what we've been through, how could you even *think* such a thing?"
<Keep calm, Dana.> Forcing the image of Tooms from her thoughts,
she lowered her voice. "Mulder, when have I ever given you cause
to believe I would betray you?"

Mulder's grip on Scully's wrists was brusingly tight, his teeth
bared within a hair's breadth of her nose. "You're good, Scully, I
have to give you that." He shook her. "Get the paranoid idiot to
trust you, was that your little game?"

She could feel his rage ebbing, so she whispered. "Mulder, it's no
game, it never was. This is as much about my life now as it is
about yours. You're hurt, you're not thinking clearly. Let me up,
please."

Her plea set his head spinning, but the fury still drove him. "I
forgot, Spooky never thinks, does he? He just feels. Well, maybe
that's your problem, Doctor Scully, you don't *feel* anything." He
pressed his chest down on hers and growled. "Can you feel this?"

Scully resumed fighting, kicking out at the body on top of her.
"Mulder! Let go!"

As his ribs heaved from the struggle, the added pressure snapped
one of the weakened bones. When the pain penetrated through to his
brain, his thinking mind reasserted itself. <This is my partner,
my friend, my ally. What am I doing?>

Horror rushed in to replace his anger. Mulder released Scully,
sitting down beside her, lifting her shoulders off the floor to
wrap his arms around them. "I'm sorry, Scully, I'm so sorry,
please forgive me, please." He was pressing her against his chest
as fiercely as he had sought to pin her to the floor just moments
earlier.

She was shaking, terrified of the emotions the past few minutes
had unleashed in him. "It's OK, Mulder, you're OK." She tightened
her arm around the unbruised side of his body, probing the damaged
ribs gently with her left hand. <I'll never get him back in the
hospital just for this.>

As one bone moved under her fingers, Mulder grunted helplessly,
breaking down, weeping in her neck. "What have I done, Scully?
Please forgive me. Please don't leave me."

She reached up, stroking his hair. <Was that it, Mulder, are you
afraid you'll lose me again?> "I won't Mulder, never. It's OK. I'm
here and I'm staying. It's OK. We'll find your sister, we will,
together." She shushed and rubbed until the tears stopped, but her
shaking did not. <He doesn't need to deal with your fear, Dana,
get a grip.>

He released her, holding her trembling hands in his to focus on
them. "You were never my enemy, never, Scully. I should know
better." He raised his eyes to hers. "I'm sorry my rage drove me
to do this. You've never given me cause to doubt your loyalty,
ever. You should never have been my target."

She rested her forehead on his shoulder, willing her own tears
away. "Let's go to my place, Mulder, my supplies are there and the
air is cleaner."

Standing, he lifted her to her feet, telling himself the pain in
his side was a just penance for what he had been about to do. "Did
I hurt you, Scully?"

She gathered her thoughts before meeting his haunted eyes. "No,
Mulder, you didn't. I'll be fine, after I get some rest, but you
were right at the Gunmen's on Election Day. We have a whole new
set of enemies to worry about."

After cracking a few of his windows, he picked up the bags and
walked beside her to her car, deep in thought, one hand wrapped
tightly around her waist.

--o-0-o--

Along Glebe Road
Arlandria, Virginia
Tuesday, 6:38 pm

Dana Scully gripped the steering wheel, forcing herself to
concentrate on the road, not allowing her mind to drift back to
the events in Mulder's apartment.

He, on the other hand, was obsessing over them, cursing himself in
his head for almost destroying the one person he completely
trusted. <You're becoming just like your Father, Mulder.>

Passing over the shallow creek known as Four Mile Run, they were
stopped by a red light. Scully glanced over at the mask his face
had become, then reached out to cover one clenched fist with her
hand.

Choking back a sob, he opened his hand and grasped her fingers in
one swift motion, turning his head towards her for the first time
since they entered the car. Mulder's eyes were even more deeply
shadowed than she had seen when he had been grieving for his
mother.

She lifted one corner of her mouth, silently offering her
forgiveness in the balm of a quip. "I should warn you, Mulder,
when we reach my apartment, I'm throwing you in the bathtub. I
know bachelors like yourself only shower to maintain a minimum
level of social acceptability, but ten days is too long for anyone
to tolerate, even my normally accepting self."

He lifted the corners of his lips in a brief grin, then watched
as, heartened, she responded with one of her own. "Thank you,
Scully, but I only have these sweats from the hospital."

Arching an eyebrow, she jerked her head towards the back seat.
"No, I had a whole bag packed for you that never made it inside
your apartment. Dr. Scully will tolerate no excuses from her
patients." When the light changed, the driver of the car behind
them hit his horn, so she rolled forward.

Mulder checked back over his shoulder. "And apparently, neither
will he."

The lawyer in the Jaguar behind them, impatient to reach a
Congressman's party, had begun celebrating as he waited for his
date to finish dressing at her apartment. Now, he was late, the
Honda in front of him accelerating too slowly for his pleasure.
So, muttering about women drivers, he pressed the horn and jerked
his sleek sedan to the left, forcing an oncoming small Datsun and
the offending blue four door up on the curb. As the red-haired
driver slammed on the brakes, narrowly missing a woman exiting a
Laundromat with two bulging canvas bags, he snarled to his date
and roared away.

Mulder leapt out of the car to check with the woman, who had
dropped her bags by the passenger side of the Honda, before he
attempted to cross the street to the Datsun. But the Hispanic
driver sped away as well. <Poor guy, he's probably here illegally,
and afraid I'd turn him in.>

When Mulder turned, he could tell that his partner had reached the
breaking point. <You drove her there, G-man.> He saw her head
slumped on the steering wheel, her shoulders shaking, and he heard
her gasping as she wrestled with her emotions. He returned to the
car, opening the driver's door to speak to Scully.

But the woman with ravens-black hair touched his hand, calling his
attention away. "If you need a witness, it was the Jag that
started everything. Your friend here had to scramble not to hit
me."

Mulder nodded, kneeling again.

She reached in her handbag for a slip of paper that she left on
the dashboard. "Call me, OK? My E-mail address and phone numbers
are all there. Thank you!" Her parting remark was delivered to his
partner.

Mulder reached over to hold Scully's shoulder, but she left her
head down on the steering wheel. He glanced quickly at the
business card before shoving it in his pocket: Ana Badb Morgan,
Consultant. He wondered whether the single n was an affectation
before dismissing her as another political type the DC area seemed
to attract.

All distractions aside, he focused on the shaking woman before
him. "Scully, it's OK. You did the right thing. You're OK, no one
was hurt." He kept attempting to reassure her, rubbing his hand
around the point of her shoulder in circles, but the events of the
past few days had overwhelmed even her nerves. Finally, he could
think of nothing better to help her. "Come on, Scully, step out of
there, breathe a little fresh air." After unbuckling her lap belt,
he guided her out of the car, staying close while she leaned
against the door. Since he had nearly killed her, Mulder expected
Scully to move as far away from him as possible, but instead found
that she was leaning against his side.

As he watched, she began reassembling her composure, piece by
laborious piece, the tremors stilling, her face clearing. By the
time the Arlington police car pulled up behind the Honda, she was
her cool, professional self again.

Astonished once more by her iron will, he grasped her shoulder
before he turned to the uniformed officer. <But what is the
emotional cost of this shell you've so carefully assembled,
Scully?>

--o-0-o--

Apartment 5
Alexandria, Virginia
Tuesday, 7:45 pm

The message light on the answering machine was blinking in the
darkness when the partners arrived, still subdued by the evening's
events. After displaying their FBI badges, Mulder had recited the
Jag's license number, but it was a night when such incidents were
common, and the police had taken their statements and sent them on
their way.

Mulder rested his fingers by the clear, raised messages button.
"Scully? Should I check that?

She shrugged, heading for the kitchen with their congealed food.

Mulder tapped once, setting the tape within spinning.

Margaret Scully's voice sounded from the speaker. "Honey, it's
Mom, and I have another letter here. I'm driving over to DC
tomorrow, and I wondered if you were at your place or still in
Baltimore. Call me. Bye." Her daughter had walked up to stand
beside him and listen.

As Mulder edged closer to her, Scully lifted the receiver from its
cradle and touched the third speed dial button. She could hear
laughter in the background when Margaret answered on the second
ring. "Mom, it's me. I'm home and Mulder woke up this afternoon,
so he's here too."

"Good, honey, I was worried. He's OK?"

"Yes, he's fine, Mom. We're both just tired from the case, that's
all." She glanced up at his troubled eyes. "Sleeping outside in
the cold for nearly two weeks would wear down anyone."

He settled his healthy side against her shoulder, grateful for her
acceptance of his flaws and weaknesses.

"You sound so, well, strange, dear. Are you really alright?"

"Oh, we were run off the road by some self-important idiot in a
Jag, but no one was hurt, Mom." When he rested his hand against
her back, she leaned into it, hoping the gesture would be another
reminder of her forgiveness. "You're smart to be off the streets
until tomorrow. Who's over?"

"Just a few of the neighbors, Dana. After that misfortune, you two
should stay where you are for the night. I'll see you tomorrow,
and give Fox my love."

"Sure, Mom, bye." She hung up the phone before relaying her
Mother's parting words to her partner.

Mulder's shoulders dropped. "Scully, I..."

She was shaking her head emphatically as she faced him. "No,
Mulder, we won't dwell on this anymore. You were angrier than I've
seen you in a long time, but we're both alright, so it's over and
done."

Closing his eyes, he dropped his chin to his chest before tilting
his head at her. "If you say so, Scully. But I didn't hurt you,
really?"

She arched one brow. <Stop worrying about me, you're the one with
the cracked rib.> "No, just my pride, Mulder. I should have
knocked you out cold with that blow." She shrugged, her eyes
bright. "Just must be hard to keep a good man down."

Her humor finally reaching through his fear, he smiled. "Or a good
woman. Although," he glanced down as he touched his side, "once
these are healed, if you should need help with your self-defense
practice, I would consider it remiss of me, as an employee of the
Federal Bureau of Investigations, and purely as your partner, of
course, not to volunteer."

She growled, then turned her expression back into a jest. "Oh?
Well then, I'll have to hone the blades on my bat'telh to a fine
edge before we start." Taking his silence as victory, Scully
turned, aiming for her bedroom, returning with tape and gauze.

He grimaced at her approach, but she hit him with the LOOK, and
after showering he dutifully submitted to her probing and
bandaging.

--o-0-o--

Apartment 5
Alexandria, Virginia
Wednesday, January 1, 1997
2:23 am

"Where are you taking me? Where am I?"

Mulder lifted his head off the back of the living room chair. <Oh,
no, was this the price?>

Scully was stretched out on the sofa in full REM sleep,
experiencing what he feared was an abduction nightmare.

Over his objections, she had insisted he stay the night so she
could monitor his head injury, and now he was glad he had. "Why
are you doing this? No, not another needle! It's too big!" A
strangled moan escaped her as she began curling into a ball,
shaking.

He moved to sit in the space on the sofa by her head, discovering,
once again, how close to the surface of his psyche all his old
emotions regarding her abduction were. But, he willed himself to
wait, to listen for clues as to who or why, since her hypnosis
sessions revealed nothing.

"No, don't cut me, please! I'm a doctor, what do you want to
know?" She fell silent, but the shaking continued until finally
the tears she worked so hard to suppress earlier this evening
began to flow. "Mulder, where are you? Help me!"

He lifted her off the sofa, turning her so her head rested on his
chest, encircling her crossed arms with his own. <I never want to
hear you call out like that again.> "I'm here, Scully, you're safe
with me." He stroked her hair, pushing it off her face, wiping
away the tears with his fingers. He knew she needed for this
struggle to be over, as did he, since they had no idea what was
coming next, only that they had to stand strong and prepared
together. <It's just fatigue.> That had been her message to him
earlier, and he fervently hoped she was right.

Gradually she felt his presence and forced herself to awaken.
"Mulder?" Her voice was quiet, not frantic. As the tightly
clenched muscles relaxed, she inhaled deeply and opened her eyes.
"I was on a table, under a bright light, Mulder."

He continued to wait in silence, supporting her with one arm,
holding her face with the other hand, and ignoring the shooting
pains in his side. <Tell me something, Scully. Give me any hint of
where you are, of who is testing on you.>

Her hands dropped to her stomach and she poked it gently. "It's
not swollen up like a balloon." She met his eyes. "It was, then,
you know. They wanted to check something, and I could feel a
needle in my back." Her hand slipped around behind her, touching
the location of the implant from the second abduction.

In agony from the rib, Mulder shifted his weight, bringing a leg
up to help steady her and take the pressure off his muscles.

When she felt him shudder, she was instantly herself again,
turning around on the sofa and reaching for his side.

He gritted his teeth. "No, Scully, I'll be fine. You were talking
about your abduction. Go on."

Scully had his shirt pushed up, the bandages off, to examine the
bruises, probe the bone beneath. "It's gone, Mulder. I can't
remember now. What did I say?"

Wincing, he lifted her fingers away, attempting to smooth the
gauze back in place. "Nothing that made any sense, Scully. You
were talking as if they were performing surgery on you, but you
were awake and in terrible pain. I had to do something to help
you." He ran one hand down her back, resting it finally where she
had. "It scared me, hearing you cry out like that after all this
time."

Sitting up, she rubbed her face. "We're both exhausted, Mulder,
mentally and physically. If we could disappear to an island resort
for a few weeks," she paused, <What, no cracks about three hour
tours?> "we might begin to recover, but we have too much to lose
here." She looked back at him. "I didn't strike out at you, did
I?"

He bit his lip. <It wouldn't be like I didn't deserve it.> "No,
Scully, not this time. Can I get you anything, some water or
herbal tea?"

As she adjusted the bandages, she considered. "I'm too tired,
Mulder. I want to sleep without nightmares." Dropping her hand to
his knee, she sent him a silent request.

He nodded. <Anything, Scully, just ask.>

She settled down, resting her head in his lap. They had often done
this in the months she had taken to recover from her surgeries.

He covered her with the Maya blanket, turning on the television to
numb his own fears. "That warm enough, Scully?"

Her answer was a sleepy mumble.

--o-0-o--

Apartment 5
Wednesday, 7:12 am

"Dana, Fox, are you both alright?"

As Mulder lifted his hand off her shoulder to rub his face, Scully
threw back the covering. She had heard Margaret's key turned in
the lock, but was only halfway to the door when the older Scully
opened it.

Margaret called to them both. "Dana? Fox?"

The red-haired woman held out her arms, accepting the excited ball
of fur. "Fuzzy!"

Chastened by his actions, Mulder hung back, but Margaret would
have none of it and walked forward to greet him. "Fox, dear."

He gasped as her arms pressed against his ribs and bit his lip.
<More penance, Mulder.>

Margaret released him when he flinched. "She told me where she
is."

His eyes snapped to full alertness. "My Mom? Where?"

Margaret took the chair by the door, noticing the dirty plates and
balled up blanket. "In Vienna, Fox, she and Max are at your
Uncle's. Here." She handed him the blue pages, minus the last,
which contained Caroline's special request. For her friend, she
would use all her maternal wiles on these two.

As he read, Scully carried the plates to the kitchen sink. "How
was the drive, Mom?"

The dog's toenails clicked on the wooden floor behind the Agent.
The ransacking had ruined her carpet, so during one of their
extended field trips, the landlord had removed it and refinished
the floor underneath at Scully's expense.

Margaret circled the room, saddened by the missing photos and
souvenirs. "Not bad, considering."

Refolding the pages, Mulder slipped the letter back into its
envelope. "She sounds so happy." The upbeat sentence emerged from
a grim face. <She's never coming back.> "She'll write me directly
now, she says." <It must be bad news.>

Correctly divining his mood, Margaret walked over to touch his
shoulder. "Don't worry, Fox, you're her son and she won't abandon
you." When he glanced up at her, she could see his customary
self-torture beginning. "Did you ring in the New Year with Dana?"

He shook his head. <She doesn't need to worry.> "We must be aging,
Mrs. Scully. Once we sat down to turn on Times Square, the next
sound we heard was not the countdown, but you knocking on the
door."

Scully reentered her living room, one hand idly stroking the
Pomeranian, now under her arm.

Margaret commented. "Oh, then this should be a good year."

Mulder frowned as his partner set the dog on the floor and
replaced the blanket on the back of the sofa. "What?"

As Margaret resumed her seat, Scully explained. "It's a Scottish
custom, Mulder. If a woman is the first one to cross the threshold
of a home after the stroke of midnight, then the house will suffer
misfortune. But Mom handed me Wee Willie here, so we'll have good
luck throughout the year."

Margaret smiled at the 'we'.

Mulder rubbed behind the ears of the Pomeranian, who had jumped
into Scully's lap. "I shudder to think that the Red Menace
controls my Fate, Scully. Does this mean I owe him a walk?"

"Yes!" The women answered simultaneously, so, after a quick stop
in the bathroom, he complied, grumbling good-naturedly.

As the door closed, Margaret slipped the last page of the letter
from her purse to pass it to her daughter.

Scully read the few lines before she returned the paper, nodding.
"I think we can be there, Mom. We're both so beaten down from this
homeless investigation that several days in Annapolis could be
considered sick leave, rather than vacation. Although, Director
Skinner has offered us administrative leave for the rest of the
holiday season."

Margaret moved to the sofa, resting her hand on her daughter's
knee. "I know, Dana. You both look like you've had neither a good
night's rest nor a full meal in weeks." She smiled. "Although Fox
does look better clean-shaven. Some men, including your Father,
can never grow a beard, no matter how many times they try."

Scully frowned. "Ahab had a beard? When?"

Margaret walked across the room, gazing out the window at the
first few cowled and bundled joggers passing on the sidewalk. "On
every extended shore leave before you kids came along. Even after
two months, his was as scraggly as Fox's." She gave her oblivious
daughter what she hoped was a significant stare.

When Scully caught on, the implication set her fuming. "Mo-om, No!
Not that again! Mulder and I are *not* considering a romantic
'relationship'. I don't want it, he doesn't want it, and the
Bureau *certainly* doesn't want it." She rose. "We're under
constant scrutiny by certain people who would be *delighted* to
use it against us if we fell prey to..." She shook her head, the
tumbled auburn hair falling over her face. <I can never tell her
about last night.> "Just let it drop, OK? Last fall was absolute
hell for both of us, and things are clicking again now. The
X-files, for once, have significant outside support, not just bad
publicity."

Margaret held up her hands. <I had to try, Caroline.> "It's
alright, dear. You were right, I shouldn't have brought it up."
She turned back to the window, watching Mulder trot along behind
the dog, his arm fully extended by the little canine straining at
the leash. <Dana's right, they *are* both worn to the bone.> "Fox
is bringing the dog back, dear. I'll ask him about Epiphany, if
you like."

Scully nodded. "Thanks, Mom, I need to hit the restroom."

Margaret puzzled over her daughter's reaction to her hints as she
opened the door for her surrogate son and the Pomeranian. "Fox,
you look tired."

He shrugged.

Once they settled on the sofa, the dog jumped into the older
woman's lap, almost as soon as Mulder unclipped the braided rope
to coil it on the coffeetable.

With a look of resignation on her face, Scully took the chair upon
her return. "Maybe you should keep him, Mom, he spends most of the
time at your house anyway, and after what happened to the
apartment, I wouldn't want anything to happen to him, too."

Margaret stroked the long fur, considering. "Only if you wouldn't
miss him too much. He is a dear little thing, and so loves to
sleep on the bed at night. Are you sure?"

Scully nodded. "I'm sure, Mom. Besides, I'll see him at least once
a month anyway, so it's not like he's really leaving."

Margaret cleared her throat. "Fox?"

Mulder had leaned back on the sofa during the discussion. "Yes,
Mrs. Scully?"

"Since you and Dana missed Christmas altogether, I'd like to
invite you to Annapolis from whenever you'd like to get there
through at least January Sixth."

Mulder rubbed his face. He wanted to take her up on the offer, and
Margaret Scully was his second closest woman friend, but he was
uncomfortable presuming on her hospitality so soon after the
events of yesterday. <She doesn't know. Just don't wake up
screaming about it and she'll never find out. She'll hate me if
she does, because I wasn't just late, I was the one that made
Scully suffer.> He checked his partner, who was smiling
encouragement from across the room at him. "Scully, if we head in
to the Bureau tomorrow and Friday, I think we can start on some of
the paperwork that's been piling up."

Dana Scully nodded. "Sure, you're the Section Head. As long as you
take it easy and we don't go crawling through the sewers after
mutants, you should be alright." Mulder cocked his head at her.
<You're the Section Head? Something's afoot here, that was too
easy.>

Margaret Scully was grinning like a cat when he turned to her.

He smirked. <Oh, no, they're both in on it. You're a dead man,
Mulder.> "OK, Mrs. Scully, we'll be there from Friday night
through Tuesday."

Margaret rose. <I hope you'll be there for longer than that.>
"Thank you, both of you. I need to visit some friends in
Springfield, the Richardsons, Dana, you remember, from Norfolk?"

Scully frowned. "No, I don't, but Ahab was working out of there
mostly when I was in college."

Margaret leaned over to kiss her child on the cheek. "Yes, of
course, that's right. So you never had the chance to meet their
boy Craig? He's about your age and ..."

Scully pursed her lips to growl. "MO-OM!"

Margaret left. <So much for the gentle dig.>

When the latch clicked behind his partner's mother, Mulder turned
to Scully. "Well, what's her hurry? I've never heard her push you
about men before."

She sighed. "Since my biological clock has run down for good, I
really don't know, Mulder." She moved to the sofa. "I think that
was all about one man, unfortunately."

He shifted to relieve the pressure on his side. "Oh. Me. Do you
suppose that was all our mothers talked about when they were
together?"

His partner rolled her eyes. "By the way, how is your Mother?"

He smiled, but his face was shrouded. "She sounds happy, Scully,
here." He passed her the envelope, somberly watching her read.
"I've lost her, haven't I? I'll never see her again."

She moved closer to him, knowing anything she said would be lost
on him in his present mood, so she waited beside him in silence.
<Oh, Mulder.>

They were both beginning to drowse when the phone rang, and
jumped.

Scully reached for the unit. "Scully." A pause. "Good Morning,
Byers."

Mulder was focused and listening.

"The microphones?"

He stood up over her.

"Really? Thanks. We'll be right over."

--o-0-o--

Lone Gunmen's Office
Alexandria, Virginia
Wednesday, 9:15 am

"Hey, guys, Happy New Year's." Byers held the door, puzzled, as
Scully stepped back to wave Mulder in first.

Langly's long hair hung over the arm of one of the sofas, his
horn-rimmed glasses askew as he snored.

Scully bent over him, tickling his nose with the fringe on her
wool scarf.

"Hump? What?" The blond Gunman lurched to his feet, adjusting the
frames on his face. "Oh, hey Doc." Rubbing his nose, he
apologized. "Too much bubbly last night."

Frohike emerged from the office, flinging his arms open wide when
he saw them. "Mulder, lovely Dana! A hug for the New Year?"

For their separate reasons, each responded negatively.

Langly walked into the office, focused on the wiretaps. "Byers and
I worked up the microphones, G-man."

Mulder followed the sound of his muffled voice, Scully close on
his heels, but as far away as possible from Frohike.

Langly glanced up when the four joined him. "Yeah, whoever built
these is one sharp operator. When I began tracing the circuit
layout, man oh man, was I surprised!" He powered up their network
analyzer, several RF signal generators, and four high frequency
oscilloscopes, all showing the wear and tear of purchase from
government surplus. One of the microphones lay on the workbench,
microprobe leads running from it to the test equipment. "You see,
each microphone had its own ID code that was broadcast along with
the signal."

Mulder shrugged. "So?"

Byers dropped a photograph of Margaret Scully's home on the
workbench, tapping the dark green of the trees behind the barns.
"So, the thing I kept wondering about was this. Your mother,
Scully, never reported any surveillance vehicles in the area,
right?"

She nodded.

"All the microphones run off batteries, so they are either of
limited life, or they don't have to transmit too far."

Scully's finger circled the satellite dish in front of the
chimney. "It would be easy if the signals only had to reach here."

Langly smiled. "You got it, Doc. I'll bet if you go check the
electronics attached to the receiver antenna on the roof, you'll
discover they've been replaced with circuitry that allows the
mikes to broadcast directly on the Ku band signal."

Mulder ran his hand through his hair. "So she should hold out for
cable?"

Scully tucked her hair behind her ear. "Not necessarily, Mulder,
the satellite dish made it easy for them, but they could, with
minor modifications, have used a radio antenna, if the home had
one, or even the cable lines themselves."

Langly pushed a photo enlargement of the microcircuit in front of
them. "Since each mike is individually ID'ed and time coded, they
could monitor where and when conversations were occurring. With a
satellite uplink, they could pull down the data from the other
side of the world, if they wanted."

Frohike leaned over the workbench. "These guys are good, Mulder.
We'll have to change our surveillance and detection schemes
ourselves to keep ahead of them. But, I have something on that guy
you saw in the picture with Max." He dropped several more glossies
on the table in front of them. "He's a high society type, just as
I suspected. His offices in Manhattan are, or were, outfitted to
the hilt with Old Masters, China, crystal, you name it. Back when,
he actually assisted Max with some of his recovery work, and he's
been big into art ever since. Last trip he took out of the
country, in fact, was to London to meet with an artist named Eric
Conners."

Mulder frowned. "What do you mean, were?"

The Gunmen looked at each other, then Frohike spoke quietly. "The
office building was destroyed in a pipe bomb explosion last month.
They pulled several of bodies out, people with power and
influence, Mulder. We think it was your Shadow Committee that
bought the farm."

The agents were stunned, Scully touching her partner's shoulder.
"Mulder, who would have done this? *He* mentioned he no longer had
any power or a position, so it wasn't *him*."

The Gunmen exchanged puzzled glances. <He? Him?>

Mulder was pacing, angry. "Why didn't Skinner tell us? This
rezeros everything, can't he see? The MJ tape, the papers, the
medals, all of it means nothing. You said Max is involved with
these men? What has my Mother done?"

Scully blocked his path, so he waited, frustrated. "It may not be
what you think, Mulder. Remember, he was pulling art out at the
same time the Mafia conduit was open. It may well be that our
elegant Shadow was spying on Max so they could track what he found
out, not that he was working with them."

Byers settled into a computer chair. "She's probably right,
Mulder."

The agents turned to him, puzzled.

The bearded Gunman continued. "All contact between the two of them
ended shortly after Max finished in Germany and began collecting
on his own. Your guy basically disappeared, popping up
occasionally at art shows and the like."

Frohike waved his hands over his head. "There's another connection
here, Mulder. That Eric Conners guy is living with an old friend
of yours."

Mulder groaned. "Don't tell me."

"Oh, yes, Phoebe Green."

The agent's eyes narrowed. "So she is working for them after all.
Find out everything you can on the Inspector's live-in." He turned
to Scully. "Tomorrow I make a phone call across the Atlantic so
Phoebe and I can have a real talk."

"I think so, Mulder. Despite her protestations, she always had it
in for you, even this time when she was all innocent and aggrieved
helpfulness."

Frohike stood behind her, his eyes twinkling. "Ohh, hiss, spit,
lovely Dana. Can I watch?"

Throwing her arms up in frustration, Scully headed out to the car.

Mulder grinned as he followed her out, tossing his thanks over his
shoulder.

--o-0-o--

Police Station
Sharpsburg, Pennsylvania
Friday, January 3, 1997
8:39 am

Richard McCooms ushered Max and Phoebe forward. "Agent Collins,
Agent Lomas, this is Max Lowenberg and Inspector Phoebe Green."

Huddled in the bare office of a Captain on leave, the four
exchanged handshakes.

McCooms continued. "The duplicate is finished, so we can begin our
sting operation as soon as our field agents are in place."

The svelte woman from Customs smiled at the white-haired man.
"I've read the records of your efforts at the war's end, Mr.
Lowenberg. You've saved so much that would otherwise have been
carted off to the Hermitage or lost."

He shrugged as he sat down on the front of the desk. "Such beauty
was never meant to be locked away. But, I couldn't work fast
enough to save it all. Some of the pieces disappeared right out of
the warehouses on the docks in Bremen and I never could discover
what happened to those."

Lomas rose from one of the two chairs in front of the desk. "Your
copyist is no hack himself. I've peeked at the canvas, and if it
weren't that I knew it was a copy, well, I'd put down the money
myself."

Phoebe smiled. "Eric would be delighted to hear you say that. He's
not much for the human figure, but it is wonderful. So, how many
are going in and when?"

Lomas began describing their plan.

When he finished, Max pointed to the desk phone. "Think I can make
a call?" When Collins nodded, he punched in his Miami home phone
number. As he waited, he glanced at Phoebe. "Would you like to
ring Eric while we have the time?"

She shook her head. "His mother doesn't have a phone in Kingston."

Max smiled and lifted the speaker to his mouth. "Caroline? How was
the flight?"

--o-0-o--

Second Floor
J. Edgar Hoover Building
Friday, January 2, 1997
8:18 am

"Well, Mulder, what do you think?"

The X-files agents were marking out space in the adjoining offices
they would be occupying in a month or so.

Mulder was slouched against one of his two windows, watching his
partner through their shared door. "It looks so big, Scully." <And
you'll be all the way over there!>

She passed into his office, smiling. "The ten million filing
cabinets will fill it up quickly, but if you like, I'll switch
with you." Hers was not a corner office, so had only one, smaller
window.

He smirked at her hidden agenda. "No, Scully, I think I'll adjust.
We'll be in and out of each other's offices so much anyway it
won't matter." He scuffed the carpet with his foot, pushing the
deep salt and pepper pile down. <I'll lose my seeds in here!>

Scully closed the distance between them. "But?"

He looked up at her. "Krycek. I keep thinking about Krycek. I
don't want to go through that again, Scully, and how do I know
I'll be able to trust two other agents, let alone a secretary?"

Crossing her arms and facing him, she leaned on the wall. "We get
to pick them out, Mulder; they don't. Skinner has already arranged
for that, *and* we don't have to take any of them if we don't like
them, secretary included." She lifted one eyebrow. "Although with
the promotions, we will be handling more paperwork." She poked his
chest once to emphasize the point. "And I do mean *we*, Mulder."

He bent over her. "But, Scully, you're so much better at it than I
am!"

Vacillating between mirth and frustration, she leaned into his
face. "So, *you* need the practice, Mulder."

Grinning, he straightened, storing this new ammunition away for
future badinage. "C'mon, slavedriver, lunch should be over by now
in foggy London."

--o-0-o--

Basement
J. Edgar Hoover Building
Friday, 12:47 pm

"Mulder, that's the fifth time you've tried her flat number today.
If Eric Conners was working out of the place, at all, he would
have answered by now."

Mulder sighed as he replaced the receiver. "Scully, sometimes I
think I'm being given some kind of runaround. The Yard says Phoebe
is in Vienna, and Isaac says she's in London."

She crossed her arms over the open drawer of the file cabinet to
rest her chin on them. "You've spoken with your Uncle?"

Leaning back, Mulder propped both feet up on the desk, interlacing
his fingers behind his head. "Yeah. He's delighted every time I
phone, and it takes a good half hour each time to disentangle
myself from him. Something's up, Scully." <Both there and here.>

She checked her watch. "Mulder, we have that meeting with Skinner
in ten minutes." She restuffed the drawer and slammed it shut.
"I'll be glad to move upstairs, actually."

He cocked his head at her while he was pushing down his sleeves
and slipping on his jacket. "Why, just so you can straighten all
this stuff up?"

She tucked a notepad under her arm as they left the basement to
wait for the elevator. "No, Mulder, I'm dreading that. <I don't
enjoy fighting with you over trivia.> Up there, we'll only be one
flight of stairs away from Skinner's office, and we won't have to
run so far when he calls these meetings.

When the doors opened, he touched her shoulder, guiding her in. <I
don't want to wrangle with you over such little things, Scully.>

--o-0-o--

Kingston, Jamaica
Friday, 12:57 pm

Eric Conners and his mother had their bare feet propped up on the
railing of their restored Victorian home, brightly painted in six
shades of green and white. They waved reflexively as a carload of
tourists passed, camera shutters clicking at the Painted Lady and
its owners on a maroon deacon's bench.

Viola Conners, rounded by middle age and four children, flapped
the front of her cotton blouse. "So, you truly love this girl from
Oxford, this Scotland Yard Inspector, Eric?"

"Yes, Mamo, I do."

"And she does not think herself too good for you?"

"No, Mamo, she doesn't. She's so very happy now that we're
together. She loves to sit and watch me paint."

His mother stopped fanning herself to sip from a tall glass of
iced tea. "But that won't carry you two for your whole lives.
She's told you already she broke hearts before she met you. Why
should she change now? Let her go, Eric, this is no good."

He shook his head. "Just spend time with her, Mamo, you will see."

Viola dropped her feet from the railing, setting the folds of her
pantsuit flowing. "And she's felt your temper?"

He closed his eyes. "Once, Mamo, and she forgave me immediately."

"Then perhaps all will go well, Eric. I'll need to meet her, as
you say. Once I read her soul, I will know."

--o-0-o--

Office of the Assistant Director
Friday, 1:01 pm

"Agents." Walter Skinner gestured to the seats across from him. "I
brought you in here to show you this police report we received
this morning." He leaned over his desk, handing a folder to
Scully. "The Reston police consider the photos in there highly
confidential. I'd like you both to take a look at the contents,
please." Turning his back on them, he slipped his hands in his
pockets and stared at the browned grass through the Venetian
blinds.

The top cover of the folder slid down the arm of Scully's chair,
and she gasped at the visage in the forensic photo staring blankly
up at her. As she passed the print to her partner, Skinner turned
to observe his agents' faces. Mulder gave the image a quick
glance, dropped the papers in his lap, and hid his head in his
hands.

Scully scanned the report, noting that the cause of death was a
single gunshot wound to the temple, made with a 9 mm round at
close range. The autopsy also indicated bruising on the neck prior
to death. She spoke her partner's name softly, running her finger
under a line in the report.

Skinner leaned on his chair. "So, do we talk, people?"

They jumped.

He sat, glowering at Mulder, who was ashen and unable to meet his
eyes. "Agent Scully?"

She shook her head.

Skinner stood again, clearing his throat. "Well, I don't know
about you two, but I could use some lunch. I'll take you both out
to celebrate your promotions?"

As her partner slumped further in his chair, Scully shot their
boss a look of gratitude as she dropped the collected documents on
Skinner's desk.

"No." Mulder choked out.

"Yes." Scully hissed in response, rising to leave, fixing her
partner with one of those withering glares Skinner had been happy
never to have received. "We'll just get our coats, Sir, and meet
you back here."

--o-0-o--

Chadwicks, Georgetown
Washington, DC
Friday, 1:37 pm

The lunch crowd was dispersing, so the three had their pick of
seats, choosing a booth in the back that had no direct view from
the outside. Skinner fixed his eyes on the tall man. "What isn't
in the report is that the Reston crime lab was able to lift
fingerprints off the man's collar, Agent Mulder. They were sent
here for analysis, which is how I was made aware of this matter in
the first place." Settling back, he crossed his arms. "I've stuck
my neck out for you, and I don't intend to feel cold steel on it.
So talk, both of you."

Mulder gave his partner the most pitiful lost child look he could
muster.

She dipped her head once, then turned to their boss. "The man was
in Mulder's apartment on Tuesday evening when we both arrived. I
was bringing Agent Mulder home from the hospital, Sir. An argument
ensued, but he left Mulder's apartment under his own power, and
rather precipitately."

Nodding, Skinner turned to Mulder. "Is this true?"

His barely audible response was delivered to the table. "Yes."

The Assistant Director curled both hands around his coffee mug.
"Look, Mulder, if you attacked this guy, I can't say I fault you
at all. There have been times I've wanted to shoot him myself, but
now is the wrong time to hide things from me. Is there anything
else?"

The silence was deafening.

Scully touched her partner's hand before she replied."Agent Mulder
and I quarreled about the visit afterward, Sir."

The Assistant Director noted the gesture of support.

Mulder raised his head, focusing on a burned-out light in the
ceiling. "He wasn't the only one I ... struck, Sir."

Finally understanding the guilt and the fear, Skinner nodded.
"Very well. I'll tell forensics to release our findings ..."

Two horrified faces stared. "What?"

"... that Agent Mulder had met with the man prior to his death,
but has no knowledge of the man's whereabouts after...?" He looked
from one to the other.

Mulder shrugged, finally speaking in his normal voice. "Six thirty
in the evening on the Thirty-first." He jerked his head towards
his partner. "Agent Scully drove me to her apartment afterward,
Sir. My place *smelled*."

Skinner nodded.

"We were forced off the road by a lawyer in a Jag on Glebe Road,
where the Arlington Police stopped by to take our statements
around seven."

Skinner took off his glasses to pinch the bridge of his nose.
"I'll relay that to the Reston police as well, since the estimated
time of death was between 6:45 and 7:15 pm on the Thirty first.
The body was discovered around eight. I guess your lawyer in the
Jag did you a real favor, Mulder."

The younger man stared at the approaching waitress. "I was their
best lead."

Skinner sighed. "Their only, as a matter of fact."

Scully sipped her mineral water. "Sometimes there is justice,
isn't there?"

--o-0-o--

Basement
Friday, 3:45 pm

"Scully?"

She looked up from her field notes, but left her hands on the
keyboard. "Hum?"

"Traffic will probably be heavy about an hour from now, wouldn't
you say?"

She frowned, pressing her glasses back up on the bridge of her
nose. "Maybe coming into the city, Mulder, but this place ... has
.. been ... des ..." Her hands flew as she saved the document and
exited the word processor while he watched. "Really heavy, Mulder.
If we don't shake a leg, it will take three hours to reach
Annapolis to research that other case."

"I would think so, Scully." He rose, pulling his own coat off the
coat rack, slipping it on, and helping his partner with hers.
"Besides, we had all those calls to Europe to make, and with the
time lag, we had to be here about, oh, six?"

They grinned as they collected their bags and exited, Mulder
locking the door.

--o-0-o--

Residence
Sharpsburg, Pennsylvania
Friday, 4:03 pm

'Finn' studied the faces of the two across the room from him. "I
see, Mr. Lowenberg. Thank you for acting as my intermediary in all
this. You understand we will need to authenticate the painting
before I pay you?"

Max nodded. He and Phoebe were waiting on a delicate settee,
surrounded by paintings and sculptures.

Their owner, an intense young man with fine blond hair, rose from
a facing sofa to walk over to Eric's copy, admiring the work. "I'm
sorry the museum in Haifa has fallen on hard times, but I must
say, I won't be too heartbroken to acquire a piece of such
significance. You and your associate have shown excellent
judgement to bring it to the US and not to Japan where the
Nineteenth Century works are less popular."

They nodded as the man faced them.

"Let me keep this for a day or two, so my experts can X-ray the
canvas, sample the paints, and perform the usual verification
tests. I know you wouldn't try to cheat me, would you?"

Max laughed, Phoebe finding herself envious of the old man's
aplomb. "The Museum has no reason to pass off a fraud, Mr.
Lindhauer. This is only the first piece that will be let go to
cover debts, and if it were to come out that we were selling fakes
.." He shrugged.

'Finn' smirked. <Desperate lambs volunteering for the slaughter.>
"As I said, I'll contact you in a day or two. Let me show you the
way out, so you can take your manuscripts to the University. I'd
be perfectly willing to purchase those as well, but, as you say,
they *are* for posterity."

--o-0-o--

The pair slid into the Mercedes, Max at the wheel. "Now all we
have to do is wait. Once they call back and offer money, Customs
can sweep in, looking for the missing pieces they suspect he has,
and maybe he can be put away for good."

Phoebe smiled at Max as they drove away. "You're good at this, you
know." After nearly pulling out into an oncoming truck at a light,
the Inspector had gladly yielded him the wheel on the way to the
house.

He glanced over as he steered the Toyota onto the main road. "I
did have practice during the years after the War, since covert
operations were sometimes the only way to free up the art that had
made its way down to Bolivia. I hope Caroline is settling in with
no problems. Given what has already happened, I hate leaving her
alone down in Miami this long. "

Phoebe nodded. "She can take care of herself, Mr. Lowenberg. Now I
know which parent Mulder inherited his resolve from."

After accelerating into the middle lane, Max settled back into a
comfortable driving position. "May I ask you something, Phoebe?"

She glanced quickly at a passing road sign before responding to
his unspoken question. "I don't know how to describe Mulder to
you, Mr. Lowenberg. That is what you're thinking about, isn't it?"

A nod.

"He was very quiet at University."

"That's interesting, Phoebe. His mother mentioned the same thing."

"He's very introspective, Max. Oh, he has the strangest sense of
humor, part flirting and part probing analysis. Sometimes he comes
across as very shallow, but that's just because he thinks deeply
about a few things and ignores the rest of the world."

"So he has a few passionate interests?"

Phoebe smiled at the white-haired driver, remembering their
sensual explorations in his tiny Scholar's room. "Yes, I would say
he has passion, alright."

--o-0-o--

Elevator
Arlington Apartment Building
Friday 4:37 pm

"Still no fish, Mulder?" Leaning against the far wall, Scully
lifted her duffel bag strap over her shoulder.

Mulder pressed the L on the control panel, pushing at his garment
bag on the floor with his foot. "No time. I meant to go last
night, but, well, ..." he punched the pause button, and shot her
an unfathomable look.

"Mulder, what are you doing?"

He was digging in the front pocket of his bag, and for a fleeting
instant, she shivered. He caught her discomfort out of the corner
of his eye. "Afraid of elevators, Scully?"

She was staring at the door in the ceiling. "A little, especially
when they stop between floors like this."

He tipped his head to catch her eye.

She pursed her lips. "Yes, I know the safety mechanisms to prevent
free-fall were perfected over a century ago, but..." Tapping her
foot, she stared at the access door again, jumping when he took
her arm and opened her hand, turning the palm up. "Mulder! Oh."

He had placed a silver box tied with a red ribbon tentatively in
it, and was staring at the carpet, his own hands shoved in his
pockets.

"But I haven't bought you anything."

He lifted an eyebrow at her, waiting.

Dropping to her knees, she set her bag down to rest the box on top
of it. Once opened, she stared at the contents in silence,
overwhelmed, finally managing a soft "Oh."

He knelt beside her, bending down to check her face, anxious.
"Don't you like it?"

She lifted the delicate China dog out of its padded box, turning
it in her palm, smiling at the cocked ears. "He's so ... sweet.
Thank you, Mulder."

"He doesn't need to be walked or fed, and you do have a bare curio
cabinet to fill." The words tumbled out in a rush. "But I didn't
want to give you that in front of your Mother and hurt her
feelings."

Chewing her lip, she nestled the figurine back in its packaging,
slipping the box inside a sweater. "You're right. Do you mind if
we stop by my place on the way out so it isn't even an issue?"

Hoisting her bag again, she moved across the box to him. "Thank
you."

He released the controls, and as they continued downward, glanced
at the hand she had tucked under his arm. Wrestling with the
sorrow and gratitude he felt, he touched her fingers and
whispered, "You're welcome." <After the past year, that you're
still here is gift enough.> "Besides, I had to pay you back for
that divine alligator."

--o-0-o--

Annapolis, Maryland
Saturday, January 4, 1997
2:15 am

"Stop it! That hurts!"

Mulder jolted awake, hearing words from his sleeping partner's
lips that chilled him, from a time he hoped she would never
revisit. But, just as on New Year's Eve when she had awakened
after crying out about her abductions, she was reliving those
horrors now. They had been watching the AFC wildcard game from Los
Angeles, when she had moved from the sofa to the two-seater to
rest, knowing that he could not use Melissa's bed tonight.

Mulder slipped off the couch to reach for her, sliding her head
onto his shoulder, one arm wrapped around her back, the other
gently stroking her face. If he could awaken her slowly, she might
remember something further about her abductions. His stubborn
insistence that her abductors were aliens had been part of the
rift that had formed between them the previous year. Now, as she
shivered and whimpered, any arguments about who paled against the
pain he desperately wanted to soothe away.

Scully swatted at nothingness. "No! No!"

The cries woke Margaret Scully, who flew to her daughter's
bedroom. <She's downstairs.> She could hear Mulder crooning to
her. "Fox? What's wrong?" She descended the stairs two at a time.

Scully was cradled in Mulder's arms, begging unseen persons not to
hurt her. "Mulder, help me!"

Margaret could see her daughter's words cleave him to his very
soul as he tightened his hold on her, struggling with his own
torments. "She's not awake, Mrs. Scully. She's still trapped in
the dream, and it's hard to bring her out of it. I've tried to
listen to her when this happens until I can't take any more, but
all I hear are disjoint phrases and calls for help."

Margaret understood and began stroking her daughter's hair,
speaking softly.

Between them, Scully slowly shook off the dream images, releasing
her grip on Mulder's neck, who lowered her back to the cushions,
still soothing her, until she grasped her Mother's hand. "Mom? Is
that you?"

"Yes, Dana, I'm here." Margaret looked up at the tall agent, now
seated as close to her as he could manage, on the end of the sofa.

He was pale and shaken, sweat beading above lips firmly pressed
together, concentrating on driving the pain far out of his mind as
long as Scully needed his support.

Finally, Scully sat up and spoke to her partner. "Thank you,
Mulder. I'm sorry if I hurt you."

He shrugged.

Margaret moved between them, resting a hand on each shoulder. "How
long have the dreams been bothering you again, Dana?" The
nightmares had come often in the months following her return, but
had gradually dropped away to infrequent to never, as far as
Margaret knew.

Scully frowned. <Why am I revisiting this now?>

Her partner answered. "Since New Year's Eve, Mrs. Scully." He
extended his hand to clasp Margaret's, but Mulder spoke directly
to his partner. "I know you didn't want your Mom to know, but
there are more violent images coming out during your sleep."

"Mulder, I can't remember the contents of any of the dreams at
all."

He rubbed his eyes, then shifted his weight onto the cushions.
"You never have, Scully, but now you're starting to be aware of
them after you awaken, unlike a year ago. I think you were given
an hypnotic suggestion to suppress the memories of your abduction
at the end of whatever was done to you. But, with the stress we've
both been under, I think that block is beginning to break down."

Margaret sat by Mulder. "This couldn't be related to her second
abduction?"

He lifted his hands in an 'I don't know' gesture, his eyes bleak
and anxious.

"Why would someone want her to forget, Fox?"

After arranging the afghan over herself, Scully leaned forward.
"I'm a doctor, Mom. If I remembered the details of the procedure,
it might be a clue as to who abducted me and why."

Mulder rubbed the ache in his side. "Or, Scully, it was to keep
you from identifying whoever was involved. You started to recall
when you were at the Leper Colony, but my actions kept you from
continuing that process."

Margaret gasped, then looked from one to the other. "Dana, what is
Fox talking about? You were at a Leper Colony?"

Scully lifted an eyebrow at him. <She doesn't need to know.> "Mom,
we've seen things no one was ever meant to have seen, and you
don't need to hear them, so forget we said anything."

"But you're my daughter and you've almost died twice because of
these ... things."

"No, Mom, it's better that you don't know."

Mulder faced Margaret, taking one of her hands in his. "Mrs.
Scully, this may be related to whoever bugged the house, and those
men would kill for the least significant reasons imaginable. The
less you know, the safer you are. They took Sam, killed my Father
and Melissa to protect themselves, and drove my Mother into hiding
in Europe. I don't want anything to happen to you as well, so
please, forget what we've said."

Margaret Scully's gentle face darkened with every one of the
partners' words. She shuddered, her eyes focused on the neighbor's
porch light, visible out the front window. "Is this related to
your disappearance in February?"

Mulder put an arm around her shoulders. "No more questions,
please, Mrs. Scully. When it's safe to tell you, we will."

Tired of carrying on alone, Margaret began to sob. <That had been
such a sweet dream back at Halloween, thinking that Bill was
beside me.>

Her daughter slipped over to hold her, while Mulder kept her hand
in his.

--o-0-o--

Sharpsburg, Pennsylvania
Saturday, 1:15 pm

At the knock, 'Finn' looked away from his new acquisition to the
door. "Yes?"

'Andrew' entered, grim but relieved. "We've tracked him down."

The sallow-faced man was led in, his black hair hanging off his
forehead, and he confronted his one-time proteges. "What is the
meaning of this? You've killed off nearly everyone else, so why
come after me? I'm powerless without the rest of the Committee. Do
you know what this destablization will do to the balance of
power?"

'Finn' snarled in the old man's face. "Now you're concerned about
that? It's a little late, wouldn't you say? Just days ago, you and
the others were sipping tea and congratulating yourself that it's
1973 all over again. Well, someone had to do something, so we did
it; we took charge, and we're cleaning up the remaining loose ends
so the other powers will understand that we're still in charge."

"But we had plans! If you had asked any of us before you took
these rash actions, we would have told you of them. But now you
and your accomplices are on your own, and I hope you're ready for
what's coming."

'Finn' paced the room, impatient with his former mentor. "What,
the visitors from the stars? Don't you see, you've been waiting
for the wrong enemy." He spun on his heel, his eyes intense.
"We'll be ready for them, as well as tracking down the others who
are running loose on the planet. But we'll be leaner, quicker than
you ever were, because we have new technology at our disposal you
know nothing about." He turned his back on the old man. "It will
be quick and painless, never fear. You taught us that."

As he was led out, the old man spotted Eric's canvas <And you
thought you were so smart!> and called over his shoulder. "Enjoy
your counterfeit art!"

'Finn' crossed the room in three strides. "What?"

The man jerked his head towards the painting. "That's a fake. You
weren't planning on buying it, were you?"

'Finn' was astonished. "But it checks out. The X-rays, the canvas,
the paints, and the technique are all correct."

The old man laughed. "So much for your technology. I trained
myself by eye at the end of the war, when we were stealing
paintings out from under the noses of the Allies for our own
collections. One sometimes has only a few seconds to recognize the
look and feel of an original, and that one doesn't have it. Le
Artiste didn't paint like that, but I know who does from the
slightly bolder strokes, and I have, or had, some of his pieces."

'Finn', enraged, shook his old mentor by the shoulders. "Who?"

"Eric Conners. He's from Jamaica originally, but he resides in
London now."

'Finn' released him and waved his arm, copying a gesture he had
seen so many times before, then turned to 'Andrew'. "We need to
set some examples. Send two men for Max Lowenberg and two for
Conners. Find them and finish them!"

Lindhauer punched the wall by the canvas as 'Andrew' left.

--o-0-o--

Annapolis, Maryland
Sunday, January 5, 1997
8:33 am

"Dibs! I was here first!" Knocking off the stubble as he held the
razor under the tap, Mulder smirked at his partner's grumbling.

"You decent?"

The mischievous grin migrated to one corner of his mouth. <Go for
it, Mulder.> "No."

"Mulder!"

He turned the knob, disengaging the lock.

She poked her head in. "Feel like talking?"

He nodded, tilting his chin to shave his neck as Scully entered to
lean against the sink and watch him.

Saturday had been a quiet day at the Scully home while Margaret
worked through her fears, at times approaching the partners for
gentle reassurances. They, too, had used the day for recovery,
walking the dog or picking up groceries for the Epiphany supper.
Margaret had left the Christmas decorations up, but none of them
had been prepared for false cheer or forced gaiety, so had packed
Scully's gifts in the trunk, unopened.

"How's your Mom, Scully?"

"Better. Thanksgiving and my nightmares scared her." She reached
over to flick off a dab of shaving cream on his shoulder. "She
still believes in the government, you know."

"Yeah, well, I'd like to believe too. Perhaps the Shadows are
beginning to destroy themselves, and people like your Mom will
never need to have their sense of security challenged. If your
father and mine are somewhere together right now, I hope Captain
Scully is giving him the third degree about having to defend all
the things he did." He frowned. "As for your Mom, I'm sorry she's
been caught up in all this. She doesn't deserve what's she's going
through." Swishing the razor in the accumulated water a final
time, Mulder reached for a towel.

Scully shifted her weight to her other leg. "But you do, Mulder?"

They exchanged a glance.

She crossed her arms, staring at her feet. "She asked us to go to
Mass today."

He closed his eyes, rubbing his face with the towel. "I know she
needs it, Scully, you go. I can't."

"Can't, or won't?"

He opened the door back to his room, and she walked through ahead
of him, taking a seat on the bed while he surveyed the clothes in
the closet. "Can't, Scully. I've never been very religious, as you
know, at least not in the Christian sense. My Father tried to
interest me in an Episcopalian youth group once, but my Mom
wouldn't stand for it."

She crossed through the bathroom for her medical supplies,
returning with tape and bandages. "So they argued over which
religion you would be raised in?"

He rolled his eyes, but submitted to her ministrations. <Just like
they did over everything else, Scully.> "No angry discussions,
really. My parents fought with long silences. They could go for
days without speaking, then my Dad would leave on one of his
trips, and my Mom would disappear in her room." He held his arm
over his head, watching her tape the padding to his side.

Scully looked up, shocked at his casual acceptance of his broken
family. "Was this before or after Sam's disappearance?"

"Both. While Sam was still with me, I'd take care of her, get her
to school or wherever, fix meals and stuff."

She concentrated on smoothing the tape over his skin without
adding to her partner's discomfort. <That's why you're so
determined to be my big brother.>

He shrugged. "Afterwards, I just took care of myself. Mom was
depressed most of the time, so I usually fixed the meals and
carried them to her in her room." He closed his eyes. "She'd talk
to me some, then. Just little stuff, like she was a hostess or
something, but still. When I stayed with Dad, well, I never did
anything right, so, eventually I stopped trying."

She picked the black canvas shirt he had selected off the foot of
the bed, holding it open for him to slide his arms in. "Mulder,
did he?" She rested her hands on his waist as Mulder buttoned the
shirt, supporting his upper body to relieve his cramping muscles.

Gritting his teeth, he was surprised to find he was fighting back
tears. "Yeah, he did, Scully. The lines on my back?"

She mentally traced the faint scars she had just seen.

"He was never very good at controlling his anger, and with the
alcohol ... I never did anything right." He turned to her, his
eyes penitent. "That's why ..." He swallowed.

She grasped his forearm. "Mulder, I know you're worried that
because you were abused, that what happened the day you came home
means you can become abusive yourself, but you won't. I've been
around you long enough to know that." She squeezed his elbows.
"You're *you*, Fox Mulder, not *him*, William Mulder, OK?"

He tried to show his gratitude, but all he could manage was a
hesitant grin under haunted eyes, then he turned away to tuck the
shirt in and compose himself.

Crossing the room, Scully reached for the hooks on the inside of
the closet door, and paused, struck by the irony in her next
question. "Do you want the black belt or the brown one?"

He coughed once, forcing a glimmer of humor in his tone. "The one
with the flying pigs."

She tossed a playful glare over her shoulder.

Her response brought out the trickster in her partner. "This house
could use some levity, Scully."

"I always knew you believed in the impossible, Mulder."

"Nah. Just the infinitely improbable. Best way to see the
universe." The grin faded. "My Mom tried to convince me to study
for a Bar Mitzvah, but Sam had just been taken, and I couldn't see
why I should learn anything about a God who let little girls
suffer." He walked over to the window, looking out at the woods
where they had encountered the Customs Agents. "God does let
little girls suffer, and it's OK with him, you know."

Rolling the garish belt around her hand, Scully thought back to
all the pictures she saw growing up, of the Madonna and the Infant
Jesus and of Christ and the children. <What is he talking about?>

He spoke quietly. "Jephthah's daughter." Surprised at her lack of
knowledge in this subject, Mulder walked across the room to her.
"You know, the Hebrew general who promised God that if he won some
battle, he would sacrifice the first thing that greeted him on his
return home?"

She was horrified. "Mulder, no."

He nodded, waving the arm on his healthy side as he paced. "Yeah,
it was. She runs out to him, all smiles, and he swallows hard, but
after two months of her lamenting the fact she'll never marry,
.." He shrugged. "God didn't stop it with angels or rams or
anything, so it must have been OK with him." His eyes blazed, but
his voice dropped to a whisper. "I don't need a God like that. So,
I chose to go without religion, Scully. I wanted to seek my own
truth, and I did. Although ..." He held the buckle and waited
while she threaded the belt through the loops in the back of his
black jeans, brushing her hand as the other end was placed in his
grip. "Do you remember the abduction at Lake Okobogee we
investigated, oh, three years ago?"

"The little boy who thought he was receiving information through
his television? I listened to the tapes of your hypnotic
regressions for the first time at the end of that case."

He lifted both eyebrows. <I never knew you listened at all,
Scully.> "Well, that case brought back all my fears and guilt, and
I needed somewhere, anywhere, to go to feel secure. I couldn't
talk to my parents, and I didn't know you very well then, so, I
drove around aimlessly, finally stopping at some Lutheran Church,
I think, with beautiful stained glass windows. I don't know how
long I was there, but I felt so lost and alone."

Scully reached up to pat down an errant lock of hair, remembering
Lucy Householder. "You always torture yourself every time you
think you have someone like Sam."

His face darkened, their old disagreements wounding him afresh.

Scully wondered if she had offended him, so she kept stroking his
hair in apology.

Understanding her concern, he gently grasped her outstretched arm,
lowering it to her side, and sliding his hand past hers as he
released her wrist. "Not recently. Your father showed her to me,
remember? He said you'll help me find her, and I believe him."

She decided to avoid heated discourse for the present, offering
her sympathy instead. "My father would have worried about you like
that had he still lived, Mulder. He and Mom never argued in front
of us kids, in fact, they rarely quarreled at all, that we
children saw. But, you were saying?"

Before shaving, Mulder has wrestled into his black running shoes,
so he opened the door, letting her out first. "Anyway, I never did
the Bar Mitzvah, much to my Mom's regret. My Dad couldn't have
cared less what I did, and for a long time, I would call him
Jephthah behind his back."

They were descending the stairs, where she stopped him with a
touch on his arm. "Never to his face?"

He grew distant, and a little afraid. "Only once. Never again."

Hearing them enter the kitchen, Margaret Scully caught her
daughter's eye.

Dana Scully shook her head.

Margaret sighed, leaving quietly out the back as the agents set
about making their breakfast.

Mulder watched her go. "Think she'll be angry with me?"

As she dropped two English muffins into the toaster, Scully
checked out the window, hearing her Mother back out of the
driveway. "Mom? No. We've had our own discussions, she and I,
since the Kryder case, and I've come to agree more with you than
with her, Mulder. Saints and miracles only go so far, but we
humans have to make the world a better place through our own
actions."

"Before we destroy it completely." His eyes flashed. "Enough,
Scully, we're supposed to be relaxing, not pondering infinitude."

She welcomed his sudden shift with a toss of her head. "You're
right, Mulder, let the Bureau pay us to dissect and analyze the
incomprehensible."

--o-0-o--

Airport
Kingston, Jamaica
Sunday, 9:18 am

Eric lifted Phoebe off her feet as she entered the terminal.
"Sweet, you're here! Did you get him?"

They kissed passionately before she responded. "No, my Heart, we
didn't. He wouldn't bite on your painting. He returned it to Max
with a written apology and wished us well, mentioning a temporary
cash flow problem. So, I have some time to spend with you in the
sun."

They walked through the flat building, arms around each other.

Eric rubbed her shoulder. "Ah, you'll think of something else. My
girl always does."

She nuzzled his neck. "Eric, I'm sorry, I'm a little nervous about
meeting your family. I don't want them to think I'm too British or
better than they are."

"Oh, Luv, don't worry. My Mamo will like you once she meets you,
you'll see. Just be your sweet self and everything will be fine."
Besides, once we're married, you're family, and they have to keep
you."

They exited into the bright sunshine.

--o-0-o--

Annapolis, Maryland
Sunday, 2:43 pm

<It's strange how we make our own rituals for this time of year.>
Margaret slid the lamb back in the oven to roast, slamming the
door as she did so, hoping the bang would mask the squeaking
spring on the screen door. Her dear Captain had brought the
recipes for this dinner back from the Theapopolis', the family of
a fellow captain in the Greek Navy he had befriended on one of his
Med cruises. Every year since, she would prepare them from the
stained, wrinkled cards, but for two years, Bill had not been at
the head of the table to praise her efforts.

She turned to her guests. "He's in the living room with Dana. Just
be careful around him. He broke a rib on his last case and it's
still very tender."

--o-0-o--

Mulder shifted on the sofa, adjusting the pillows behind his back
before he poked the thick stack of pages in his partner's book.
"You always go for this deep reading, Scully?"

"Research, Mulder, I've been thinking..."

"I know, the grinding and clanking keeps me up at night."

She crinkled her nose at the smirk on his face. "I should learn
something more about ..."

A pair of hands slid over her partner's eyes, and his own flew up
to lift them away.

"Hello Fox."

He pulled himself onto his knees to see who had walked up behind
him. "Mom!" He was on his feet, practically leaping over the sofa
to reach her. "Mom, you're here! How?"

They held each other, Caroline carefully dropping her arm below
the padding she could feel through his shirt. "I've taken out some
insurance with an old friend."

Max had remained in the kitchen, hanging back to give his wife and
her son these first minutes alone together.

Margaret nodded her approval as her daughter entered the kitchen.
"This is just for them, right now."

Scully extended her hand in greeting to the older man. "Hello
again, Mr. Lowenberg. I know we've never met formally, but Mulder
pointed you out to me quickly in Mexico."

Max rose from his seat at the kitchen table as they clasped each
other's palms. "Yes, Caroline has told me how close you and Fox
are."

Scully shook her head. "He prefers Mulder."

Observing Margaret's nod, Max filed a mental note. "Oh? Thank you.
I must confess, never having raised any children of my own, I'm
approaching this with some trepidation. What else can you tell me
about my stepson so I won't alienate him immediately?"

The Scully women smiled at each other, then Margaret filled a tea
kettle. <This could be a while.>

Scully took a chair opposite the still handsome face. "Don't push.
Let him come to you."

Joining them, Margaret stood behind Scully, placing her hands on
her daughter's shoulders for a moment. "He's the most, well,
troubled person I know. I think he practically raised himself as a
boy, so any attempt to smother him absolutely paralyzes him."

"Caroline was very unhappy in Massachusetts herself." He shrugged.
"Given the times, she felt trapped and wasn't there, mentally, for
many years."

Scully leaned back to check down the hall, relieved to hear
laughter coming from the living room. "After he read her letters
to Mom, Mulder did a good job of convincing himself she was never
coming back, you know."

Max lifted an eyebrow. "We never intended just to desert him. I'm
not entirely convinced it's safe to return even now, but Caroline
was ready, so we came."

As Scully opened her book to reposition the bookmark, her Mother
dropped spoonsful of loose Darjeeling in a strainer. "I'm glad you
did, Max." She pivoted to face him. "It is alright if I call you
Max?" She watched him nod. "He needs a father, and since you've
never been one before, you won't have any preconceived ideas about
parenting." She smiled. "Fox is like no one I have ever met, so
you two should be able to work it out."

Scully nodded. "Just be careful around the subject of his sister,
Samantha. Mulder's convinced she was abducted by aliens when he
was twelve and she was eight. Or not, depending on his moods."

Max held up both hands. "Very well. Like most people, he's
extremely complex, once you get to know him. I hope to have that
opportunity."

Dana Scully found herself liking Caroline's second husband, and
wishing both men well. "Yes, I've worked with him for almost five
years now, and I'm still finding new things out about him."

Max leaned over the table. "That never stops happening, you know.
Thea and I celebrated thirty anniversaries together, but she could
still pull the wool over my eyes whenever she wanted."

--o-0-o--

Caroline Lowenberg stroked her son's pale face. "Fox, you look so
worn. I'm glad you're here with Margaret for a while."

He took her hands. "How long will you be able to stay, Mom?"

She could read the quiet longing in his eyes. "It's difficult to
say, Son."

He looked down at their joined hands. "Oh."

She squeezed his fingers gently. "I've bought myself a little
breathing space with some well-placed letters, but until that
Ancient Chimney makes his next move ... What dear?"

His eyes were focused, laser tight. "Who?"

Caroline rose, suddenly afraid, and walked to the window. "Just
someone I know that I never should have mentioned."

He stood beside her, his hunter instincts on full alert. "Mom, who
is he? This Ancient Chimney?" She was retreating again, just when
she was about to tell him something, but he refused to let her go.
"Did he work with Dad? Does he smoke almost continuously? Mom?
Does he?" He had turned her to hold both of her shoulders and keep
her from looking away.

"Yes, dear, he does."

Mulder hugged her, overcome. "Mom, he's dead. He can't hurt you
anymore."

She pushed him away, seeking the truth in his eyes. "What?"

"He was murdered New Year's Eve. I have the police report and
photos. Scully!" He raced to the kitchen doorway, breathless.
"Scully, ..., oh." All his excitement quickly suppressed, Mulder
froze, extending his hand. "Thank you, Sir."

Max walked over to shake it solemnly. "You're welcome, Mulder.
She's very special to me as well."

The younger man waited, almost as if seeking a dismissal.

Max sought to ease Mulder's tension by turning to his partner.
"Dr. Scully, thank you for your advice."

Scully walked over to the two men. "Yes, Mulder?"

Max thought to himself that his stepson resembled nothing, at this
moment, more than a terrapin cautiously poking his head out of his
shell.

"I told you, Scully."

"Told me what, Mulder?"

"My Mom knows more than she is letting on about Dad." He glanced
over at his stepfather. "Sorry, Sir."

Max shook his head. "That's no problem, but please, don't call me
Sir again, I'm just Max. It makes me feel like I'm a bully giving
orders."

Scully watched a troop of emotions cross her partner's face, from
astonishment to gratitude to relief, dissolving into pure
surprise.

"OK, Si-Max."

The two men thought, together, that this stepfather/stepson
business might not be so tough after all.

Mulder focused on his partner. "She knew him, Scully."

"Oh, *him*, him, you mean." She touched his arm. "Do you think the
house is still secure?"

He considered her question, Max watching his face clear as he
reached a conclusion.

The younger man turned to his partner's mother. "Mrs. Scully, do
you mind if we take a trip downtown for a while?"

As Caroline made her way back down the hall, Margaret walked over
to join the three. "Why, no." She understood immediately that they
were leaving to protect her, and she allowed herself a slight
smile as her daughter took her partner aside.

"Separate cars, Mulder?"

He nodded before returning to the Lowenbergs to arrange a meeting
place.

--o-0-o--

Grant's Tavern
Annapolis, Maryland
Sunday, 3:53 pm

They had met at this restored Colonial inn, its walls covered with
flotsam and jetsam from two to three centuries earlier. A
crackling fire burned in the nearly empty front room where they
sat at a small wooden table in the corner, sipping hot chocolate
and mulled spiced cider.

Fox Mulder sat back, astonished. His Mother had indeed worked with
his Father, and to an extent he never imagined, at least until the
end of the war.

Once she saw the forensics photos, the stories all tumbled out,
one after the other. His father, and several of the shadowy faces
he had come to fear from the group picture taken outside the mine
in West Virginia, had all been part of a deeply covert operation
established at the start of the war. They had moved in and out of
the Axis countries, almost with impunity, sabotaging rail lines,
stealing Nazi government secrets, planting false information to
aid the Allies.

"But, Mom, how could you have done all this? It was so, so
dangerous and women weren't allowed to fly planes in combat then."

Caroline nodded. "I wasn't a pilot, Fox, and I am Austrian. For
many of the missions I was disguised as a man." She dropped her
voice and continued. "It was easy for me then because my health
was good, unlike later, after Sam, and I was needed, badly. I
taught German and Italian to the others, including my Mystery Man
here. Because your grandparents took us on so many trips to
Germany and France, and with my good memory, I could move the
group in and out of places those monsters never expected." She
smiled. "It's so much easier now, with the surveillance from
space, that you two probably don't know how much the war effort
depended on people, not machines."

Dana Scully laughed, but quickly covered her mouth to stop.
"Mulder, when she does that, she sounds just like you."

Max nodded. "But you never found them, did you?"

Shaking her head, Caroline leaned forward to explain. "I
originally agreed to go back because I wanted to find my parents,
but I was never anywhere near the Camps, any of them." She tapped
the photo. "I think, even then, he and your Father were answering
to a group other than our own. Oh, they pretended that this was
all they knew, but neither of them could hide everything all the
time, but the coded messages I saw was gibberish even to me."

Scully frowned. "Mrs. Lowenberg, why did you stop? Even now I can
see how much you loved it."

Caroline sighed. "I had no choice, Dana. Just like all the WAC's
and WAV'S, the women in our office were fired, en masse, in 1946.
They had no further use for me, once the European theatre closed
down, and I still didn't have my citizenship yet. No time." She
closed her eyes, preparing for the inevitable next question from
her son.

Mulder shifted on the chair. "Mom, did Dad ever tell you what he
was doing after the war?"

Caroline gasped. <That's not what I expected.> "No, Fox, I just
assumed it was covert operations against the Soviets, using the
techniques we had perfected during the War. It wasn't until *you*
started poking around asking questions that I began to worry about
anything else. I knew not to ask at the time, as much as I was
dying to know. Why, Son, what was he doing?"

Mulder looked to his partner.

Scully shrugged.

He closed his eyes and prepared himself, clasping his hands
together under the table in his lap. <They'll both hate me after
this.> "Mom, he was sneaking Nazi doctors who worked in the camps
out." He swallowed and stared at the candle flickering on the
table. "They were setting up a similar program in the US." The
explosion he expected from his stepfather never came, so he raised
his eyes to meet theirs.

Caroline was holding her husband's hand on the table, while Max
was pale as a sheet. "Do you mean my adopted country ..." He
choked out. "All those faces, all that death, and they did it
again over here?"

Scully nodded and replied, her voice deep with sympathy. "Yes,
Sir, and from what Mulder and I saw, the experiments continue to
this day."

Caroline shot her son a look of pure disgust.

He crumpled into himself. As his chin dropped to his chest, he
felt a small hand slip over his knuckles. <Thank you, Scully.>
"I'm sorry, Mom. I didn't know. I thought I was chasing evidence
of alien-human contact, and I may have found some, I can't be
sure, but there was ... this, too." <She'll never speak to me
again, I know it. I look too much like him.>

Caroline rubbed her husband's back. "Would you like some fresh
air, Max?"

He sighed. "No, dear, I'll be fine. I always wondered why I had so
much assistance, and now I understand." He inhaled. "There's
something you should know about me as well, Caroline."

The agents focused on him.

But his wife shook her head. "Max, I don't want to know."

Mulder began to fidget in his chair.

The Lowenbergs immediately assumed he was in pain, both asking him
about his rib.

But Scully knew her partner better than that. "Mrs. Lowenberg,
what happened to Samantha?"

Mulder froze, and Caroline's face turned ashen. Her voice, when
she finally spoke, sounded as if it came from a deep well. "They
took her, Dana. Those evil, vile creatures took her. I'm sure of
that, now."

Ignoring her partner's anxious stare, Scully persisted. "*Who*
took her, Mrs. Lowenberg?"

Caroline studied at the fire for a few moments before she
answered. "Fox, please understand, after your Father asked me if I
had a favorite, he said nothing more about it for months. I didn't
realize, until it was too late, just how serious matters were.
Then, one night, he demanded I come away from the house with him.
When he attempted to drag me out, physically, then I knew
something was wrong, because we hadn't spoken in days. I ran to
Sam's room, but she was with you."

Mulder's mouth drew out into a tight line. "Mom, you weren't
supposed to know about that."

Max frowned at them both.

Caroline's face lit. "Oh, Fox, I knew. You two were such angels
together."

Her husband touched her arm. "What are you talking about?"

Caroline turned to him. "Samantha never slept well, unless she was
with her brother. Bill didn't approve, but the poor child had such
horrifying dreams. Fox was the only one she really wanted near
when she woke up."

Scully stored this new information away.

Caroline reached over to grasp her son's shoulder, both hunched
over until they almost touched the table. "She was tucked under
your arm, sleeping like a lamb when I entered your room. But
these, these men were there, one standing over each of you, so I
began shouting for Bill to get his gun. I could do nothing else,
Fox, and they, they ... left, I think." She rubbed her temples.

Max put an arm around her shoulders. "Caroline, ..."

She patted his other hand. "No, Max, I'm fine. It's just so
strange, after all that time, I still can't remember exactly what
happened that night, just that later, I woke up in my own bed, and
both of you were still asleep and safe."

"Mom, do you recall anything about these men?"

"Well, they were both quite ... large, yes, that was it, large. It
was so strange, I thought at the time, that such big burly men
were sent to steal a child, either of you."

Mulder frowned.

Caroline continued. "You see, because I hadn't made a choice, your
Father must have, but not until afterwards did I know he had
chosen Sam." She paused. "I always loved you, Fox, but she was so
special."

Scully could tell her partner was struggling with his grief.

Caroline explained to Max. "I was forty-four when I had her, and
it was so difficult. I couldn't get out of bed for months
afterward without bleeding. Bill hired nurses to take care of us
while he was away, but even after I healed, I could fall ill at
the least thing. I hated that, being so weak after all I had
survived." She turned back to her son. "You were both such good
children; you never complained, and I know it was hard."

Mulder felt Scully grip his hand, the touch anchoring him as his
sorrow overwhelmed him. <She loves me! She really does love me!>
When he could speak, his voice was deep and rough. "Mom, I never
knew. You were just, never there, and Sam, Sam needed someone."

Leaning over the table, Caroline smoothed his hair. "I could never
tell you, never until now, because I felt her absence every day
myself. You see, she was my favorite, and you spent so much time
with her, I think your Father had them take her later to spite us
both."

Max was horrified. "Caroline, you can't be serious. No one could
be that cruel."

Mulder nodded. "But he did, Max. He did it also to save me." Now
it was Caroline's turn to look horrified. "Scully and I found
records that indicated I was to have been taken rather than Sam."

Leaning away from her partner, Scully frowned, curious. "Mrs.
Lowenberg, you said you saw men in the children's room, just men,
no lights?"

"I think they were men, Dana, but I remember that they seemed to
be more than just men, that they could change if I stared at them
or looked out of the corner of my eye." Caroline shrugged. "But I
don't recall any lights."

Mulder chewed his lip, distant and thoughtful. "But if this is
what you recollect, then how?"

"Did they eventually take her?" She stretched her arm towards her
son, and they clasped hands. "Oh, dear, I tried to protect you two
after that. Your father knew what I could do from the war, so they
never came as long as one of us was with you."

Mulder frowned. "But you were next door, playing cards with the
Galbraiths when she was taken."

Caroline looked stunned. "Was I? I honestly don't remember. All
that seems to be in my memory is that several months later, he
tried to make me leave the house. But I refused, and I think, no,
I'm very sure, that your Father, no, I don't know *how* I was
persuaded to leave with him that second time." She leaned back in
her seat. "At first, I didn't want to leave, then I thought you
two might be alright, then, we may have fought, ..." She
shuddered. "I left you two to play cards with the neighbors? That
would have been so silly! Are you certain, Fox?"

Max rubbed her shoulder with the arm he had kept around her. "He
drugged you, didn't he?"

Understanding dawned. "Yes, dear, that must have been it.
Otherwise, I couldn't have left." She dropped Mulder's hand and
brought hers to her temple. "But why isn't my memory clearer? I
should be able to recall the details. I can see the maps we drew
up to cross from Belguim into Germany in my mind, plain as day,
but I don't remember that night at all! This is so important!"

Mulder leaned over and hugged her. "It's OK, Mom, we'll find out
what happened to her."

--o-0-o--

Scully Home
Annapolis, Maryland
Sunday, 8:47 pm

Mulder sniffed the aroma of the smoke issuing from Max's pipe.
"That's not ..."

Mulder and Scully had cleaned up after dinner, as at Thanksgiving,
and now she was walking the Pomeranian while Margaret and Caroline
'caught up', leaving the nervous agent with his stepfather on the
enclosed porch.

Max smiled at the younger man. "Tobacco? Oh, dear boy, I *do* want
to live another twenty years at least. No, it's a blend of clove,
coriander and several other aromatic spices." His grey eyes
twinkled. "It's a bad habit left over from my days as a lawyer."
He turned the pipe in the air. "I never used tobacco, even then,
but one always appears more erudite when gesturing with one of
these, at least to clients. Now, I just use a pipe as an occasion
to collect my thoughts."

Mulder rotated in the chair to face him, easing the pressure off
his rib. "Max, you don't have to call me Mulder if it makes you
uncomfortable. My Mom and Mrs. Scully have ..."

Max sighed. "Mulder, I'm *certainly* not using your middle name,
and I know your first is 'reserved'. Besides, you're not to blame
for what your father did, either to his wife or his children."

The younger man stood to look out through the glass at the dark
woods. "But I *am* responsible, Max. I was there and I should have
saved her." He felt the older man's hand land lightly on his
shoulder.

"You were a twelve year old boy, Mulder, not Sir Galahad. If they
could immobilize a woman like your mother, they could stop you."

He snorted. "Yeah, I guess."

Max leaned against the window, drawing deeply on the pipe. "But
you don't have to search alone, you know."

Mulder pushed his forehead against the glass. "It's my problem;
Mom is too old."

They watched Scully carrying the dog, picking crumbling leaves out
of his fur and fussing at him. As always, the little canine
wiggled happily at the attention, ignoring the words.

Max paced the room, steeling himself to make this offer. "Mulder,
please sit."

The younger man walked over and eased himself down.

"I am not a poor man, and I had thought to leave a legacy behind
me in art. But, the events of the past few days have proven to be
a revelation, and I would like to help my wife find her daughter.
I never knew until today, that Sam was her favorite."

Mulder grinned. "Sam was one in a million."

Max stood in front of Mulder. "I know you have looked among the
groups of abductees for clues, but have you considered the
organizations who specialize in finding persons lost through war
or political kidnaping? On a certain level, this is what has
happened to her, even if there were elements involved you don't
completely understand. Due to my participation in the Six Day War,
I have powerful friends who could help you. Have you pursued the
idea that she may no longer be in this country?" Mulder's eyes
widened. "I thought not."

Scully stepped into the porch to smile a greeting at the two, who
nodded back.

Max remembered her original advice. "Just think about it, please.
We'll speak of this again tomorrow, if you like."

As he left, she took the chair next to him. "Mulder?"

He glanced quickly at her. "He wants to help me find Sam, Scully."

She leaned over to rest her hand on the arm of his chair. "Max
isn't the only one, you know."

Mulder remembered Captain Scully's words: 'A friend to help you
make peace with your past.' <And now I have two.>

--o-0-o--

Annapolis, Maryland
Monday, January 6, 1997
7:45 am

"Dana?"

Scully opened her eyes at the concern in her Mother's voice. "Mom?
Was I dreaming again?" She glanced around the room. "Where's
Mulder?"

Margaret straightened. "That's why I was waking you, dear. He's
gone."

She threw the covers back, reaching for the jeans she had draped
over the foot of the bed. "When, Mom? We were talking last night,
in here, about Max and he seemed to accept him. He's agreed to
attend the Blessing Ceremony, as Max and his Mother asked."

Margaret followed her daughter.

Scully crossed through the bathroom to her partner's room. <Oh,
Mulder!> "He's jogging, Mom, even though he shouldn't be." She
knew his habits. The rumpled sweats shoved in the bottom of the
closet where his shoes had been, were all the clues she had
needed. "He's worried about Miami and wants to clear his head."
<Or beat himself up over something, where I can't argue him out of
it.>

"But dear, he seemed pleased at the offer last night."

Scully shrugged, knowing he would not want her to pursue him.

Given all they had been through, fearing the Shadows that could
still be tracking them, however, she refused to leave him alone
for too long, and reentered her room to finish dressing.

Margaret recalled the previous night.

--o-0-o--

(Sunday, 9:01 pm)

"Well, Caroline, do you think we should rescue Max from Mulder
before he starts arguing about the existence of extraterrestrials
with him?"

His mother looked up as the front door opened and a rush of cold
air entered with Scully and the Pomeranian. "Yes, they should be
to one of his two favorite subjects by now."

Scully unclipped the dog, who ran between the two older women,
wagging his tail when Caroline rubbed his head. "That's OK, Mom.
I'll go check on them. I could see into the porch, and Mulder was
wearing his Sam face. You'll be setting the cake out?"

There was one Epiphany memorial that remained, and this year, the
ancient concept behind their ritual resonated for Margaret more
than it usually did.

Max entered the living room just after Scully left it, thoughtful.

--o-0-o--

(Sunday, 9:18 pm)

Margaret passed a slice of cake to Mulder. "Now, this isn't sweet,
so I've substituted a red jelly bean for the actual bean that
should be used."

Mulder accepted his piece of the torte from Margaret, admiring the
black swirls as round poppy seeds spilled out onto his plate. "We
won't be needing drug tests for those promotions, will we,
Scully?"

The partners smiled at the thought.

Dana tore off a chunk with her fingers. There would be no more,
since by tradition, the cake was cut evenly into one piece for
each person that would partake. "I hope not, Mulder. This quantity
of opiates will show up in those super-sensitive tests for a least
a month. But for this, it's worth a few extra days of exercise."

It was Max who exclaimed next. "Hah! I must be blessed this year."

As he showed off the red ellipsoid before popping it in his mouth,
his wife chuckled. "Be glad we're not pagans, dear. You would be
King and we would have to obey any and all of your commands, but
for tomorrow only, then, I'm afraid we could all exclaim with
Alice's Red Queen:"

"Off with his head!" Five voices called out the familiar line.

Margaret thrilled at the laughter in the house, but she found
herself missing her absent loved ones.

Mulder was staring at the crumbs on his plate, then at the
remnants of the beech log on the fire.

As she had for the entirety of their visit, his partner's mother
was carefully stoking the embers, and he realized she had been
keeping it alight since before their arrival on Friday.

Mulder connected the flames in his vision with the fire on the
hearth. "Actually, paganism has much to recommend itself." He
shrugged. "It works as well as any other religion, sometimes."

Max lifted his wine glass, sipping quietly as he considered his
next words. "Very well, Mulder, then I will claim my ancient
privileges as King of the Bean, and demand that all of you
accompany Caroline and myself to Miami for a week." He took his
wife's hand. "I've asked Rabbi Meyer to say a few words at my
Temple this next Sabbath, and we would both love it if you three
could be there." He studied their faces, seeing the pleasure his
words brought to Margaret, and the trepidation to the agents. "If
you can, that is. I certainly don't want to lose my head."

Mulder glanced at his partner's face, remembering his thoughts as
he sat on her bed Midwinter's morning, and leaned forward. <This
would do.>

--o-0-o--

Annapolis, Maryland
Monday, 8:07 am

Scully's words brought her mother out of her reverie. "Did Mr. Red
Fuzz wake you earlier?"

"Around six fifteen, dear. Why, you don't think he's been gone
that long, do you?"

Dana shrugged. "Mom, with Mulder, it's hard to say. He may be
running his heart out, or he may have found a quiet place to
think. Let me have a moment, and I'll go look for him. How is Mrs.
Lowenberg taking this?"

"She's almost as worried as you are, Dana, in fact, it's all Max
can do to keep her from looking herself. She keeps talking about
having broken some oath she took. What on earth happened to that
family, dear? Or can't you tell me again?"

As she closed the bathroom door, Scully shook her head.

--o-0-o--

Annapolis, Maryland
Monday, 8:32 am

Mulder staggered over to a chestnut tree that the cinder path
branched around to rest his back against it. <Hurt enough yet,
Mulder?> He had awakened in the night, restless, leaving to work
his worries out in the cold. But he felt each step in his side,
and the exercise had turned into self-flagellation. The light was
beginning to creep onto the shaded jogging trail. As he looked
around, Mulder realized he had no idea where he was, other than
that the path paralleled a four lane road.

<Great, they've probably called out the State Troopers by now.
When will you ever do anything right?> He should have awakened his
partner, or left a note, but he had ground himself into a state of
disgust at his weaknesses. <I should be out looking for my sister,
not comfortably sleeping in an antique bed and anticipating a
better office and assistance for my efforts.> When he drew a deep
breath, the cold dry air set him coughing. <It's right that Sam is
Mom's favorite, not me. I couldn't save her then, and I can't find
her now. I don't understand how she can bear to touch me, after
she learned what Dad did.>

<Max had been in the Six Day War!> He took a few steps, then
accelerated into a trot, attempting to settle into the rhythm that
dulled his fears. <It was so much easier when there were heros and
villains, but now everything was shades of grey. Or was it ever
easier?> His father had been a hero once, during the War when he
had worked side by side with the Viennese woman he would
eventually marry, but he had been a villain, a spy, at the same
time.

"Mulder!"

He stopped, finding he was relieved that Scully had tracked him
down. <Perhaps she will be furious with me, and chew me out as
royally as I deserve.> When she walked over, one look at her face
told him it was worse than he thought; she was worried, not angry,
taking his arm and pulling it around her shoulders. <Do I look
that bad?>

"Let's get you back inside, before you come down with pneumonia or
something terrible that will keep me from a week in the sun."

<She's joking with me. I'm about to be coddled to death.> He was
pushed in the car before he could protest.

She climbed behind the wheel. "Mulder, I don't think I need to
remind you about your rib. It looks like you've given yourself
quite enough of a beating for one day."

Gasping on the passenger side, Mulder settled into the seat.
"Scully, I just needed to think."

She regarded him carefully, flipping from Doctor mode to partner
mode, before settling firmly in the frame of mind he was
appreciating more with each week, the friend and confidante he
needed. "I know, Mulder, but your Mother was worried, and given
the blows to your thick skull, so was I." She turned the engine
over. "With your injuries, most men would be incapacitated, but I
know you, Mulder, you recover faster if you can be active. I'm
glad you've agreed to come to Miami. Do you think you'll be
alright with the Temple service?"

He studied his hands as they drove along. "I really can't say,
Scully."

--o-0-o--

Miami, Florida
Tuesday, January 7, 1997
10:38 am

"I haven't been in a house with so much light in years." Caroline
Lowenberg was escorting her guests around her husband's spacious
home.

It was by no means a mansion, in the sense that the Palazzo De
Medici had been. But, for three Northerners like Margaret and Dana
Scully, and Caroline's son, used as they were to the small rooms
of a Victorian home that had to insulate against the cold, the
floor to ceiling windows and skylights were stunning. Caroline had
shown Margaret and Dana their bedrooms sharing a walk-out deck,
and now the four of them stood in front of a closed white door.

Dana Scully caught the slight twitch of her lips before Caroline
spoke, realizing again which parent her partner inherited many of
his quirks from.

She opened the door with a flourish. "And Fox, this is your room."
The space contained neither a bed nor a dresser, but was the
entertainment center for the home. In front of a long white sofa
with deep cushions was a projection television with surround
sound, and along the walls were shelves containing Max's video and
laser disk collection. Caroline and Dana smirked as they followed
Mulder into the room. Margaret brought up the rear, the Pomeranian
tucked under her arm.

Mulder was checking the films, giddy with delight. "Hey, Scully,
check this out! "The Fly" in CAV!"

Chuckling, Caroline took her husband's arm as he entered the room.
"Fox, I think you'll find you and Max share many common
interests."

The white head nodded. "I have two extra Mercedes in the garage,
so no one needs to feel stranded here. The keys are on the hooks
by the garage door, in case you need them."

Margaret was astonished. "Max, but you were by yourself for so
long! Why did you keep up such a large place?"

He smiled. "Before Thea passed on, members of the Firm would come
down and vacation with us, so it was convenient to have the extra
rooms and cars. After Thea, well ..." He grew reflective. "It was
easier to keep than to sell. Now it's something of a blessing,
since I can share my hospitality with all of you."

Margaret and Dana nodded to each other, then the older woman
spoke. "Thank you, Max, Dana and I have always wanted to visit the
Boardwalk."

After leaving the dog in Margaret's room, Max escorted them to the
garage. "Now, you two be careful to do the speed limit exactly for
a mile or so to either side. The speeding fines are far too high
in this city."

They nodded as they slid into one of the automobiles.

Max waved them off, heading for his bedroom to call the Jenkins,
now that they were all safe. He had much to tell Benjamin, and he
wanted to give Caroline and Fox some private time.

--o-0-o--

"Fox, dear?" Caroline placed a hand on her son's arm as he
surveyed the collection.

He glanced down at her. "Mom?"

She tugged him gently to the sofa, where they sat together. "I'm
glad we could spend this time with each other, Fox. I've never had
the chance to tell you how proud I am of you, with all you've done
over the years."

He stared down at his interlaced fingers, red from pressing into
his knuckles. "I haven't found her, Mom. Sam's still out there
somewhere and I haven't found her yet."

Caroline disentangled one of his hands, holding it tightly between
hers. "You will, Fox. Your Father made them promise not to hurt
her, ever. They told us she'll lead a normal, happy life, but just
not remember what happened when she was eight or younger."

He found his shoulders shaking and fought to keep his voice
steady. "Why didn't you tell me this after the Samantha clone came
back, or right after Dad died? Why did you let me think it was
aliens all this time?"

Caroline's face clouded. "Your Father only told me she was safe
and happy just before he died. The men who did this are gone now,
Fox. They can't kill you for knowing, which they would have last
year."

He whispered. "I wouldn't want to live, Mom."

Caroline shook her head. "Never say that, Fox. I did for many,
many years, and I missed out on most of your life because of it.
As for the aliens, well, dear, I don't know what to say." She
regarded his for a long pause. "Son?"

He lifted his eyes to hers.

"I think you are right about them though." She watched his face
snap into focus.

He began to rise, needing to pace to relieve his tension, but she
held his hand firmly. "What?"

"Now, Son, please, never repeat what I'm about to tell you."

He leaned forward.

"When you were running after those papers of yours, I went to
*him* and begged for your life. He said the human race must be
ready for some new invader, worse than the Soviets. I think he was
talking about aliens, but he never said explicitly. He promised
not to kill you if I never told you, but he's dead now, so I can."
She paused, breathing deeply to keep give herself time to check
her emotions. "Oh, Fox, you were always such a good child. It was
never your fault, and I hated not being able to tell you that, but
Bill said that was the way it had to be." Caroline's reserves
broke down.

Mother and Son held each other, weeping.

--o-0-o--

Kingston, Jamaica
Thursday, January 9, 1997
2:01 pm

As the Spanish moss swayed in the breeze, Phoebe and Eric stood
before his assembled friends and relatives in the family's live
oak grove. The minister was reading the benediction for their
union.

Eric caught his Mother's disapproving glare out of the corner of
his eye as he turned to kiss his wife. <Oh, Mamo, she's tried so
hard to please you, love her for me, your only son.> He felt his
wife's arm tighten around his shoulders.

Phoebe had been wary since her arrival. She wanted to please her
future mother-in-law, certainly, but she was concerned about the
abrupt end to their sting operation. For the past three days, she
thought she had caught glimpses of figures hiding in the shadows,
and she expected further unpleasantness.

Now, looking over her shoulder, Phoebe caught a glint of light
reflecting off metal. She reacted instinctively, tripping Eric to
throw him to the ground, where he struck his head on one of the
paving stones in the pathway. "Everyone down!" Phoebe reached for
her weapon, then froze. <It's your wedding day, girl, and you left
it in your room.> She heard an explosion, and the line where the
brilliant blue of the sky met the lush green of the mountains
began to blur.

--o-0-o--

Temple Hillel
Miami, Florida
Friday, January 10, 1997
6:30 pm

Caroline Lowenberg scanned the faces in the crowd, as she and her
husband stood in the front of the airy building, Rabbi Meyer
speaking over them. Since the marriage was a second one for them
both, coming late in life, there would be no conventional wedding
ceremony. It was only a simple blessing and introduction to the
assembled worshipers as a couple. As she had feared, her son was
nowhere in sight.

Caroline could see Dana Scully's auburn hair bobbing as she leaned
first to the left, then to the right, searching for him from her
seat by her Mother.

Finally, the agent rotated to sit facing the front, wearing a look
of relief. She had spotted her partner in the back, slumped down
on one far corner seat. <Mulder, I've never been in such an open-
minded place; it can't be that bad.>

Scully leaned forward one more time, observing another familiar
head. <It's him.> The elegant white hair looked slightly ragged
for once, and she wondered if he was on the run as the Smoking Man
had been, and whether there were assassins in the building with
them. As soon as the service finished, she would make her way back
to her partner to warn him, if she could reach him in his present
mental state.

--o-0-o--

Lowenberg Home
Miami, Florida
Friday, 8:37 pm

The celebration on the Lowenberg grounds was in full swing.
Scattered in small groups throughout the gardens and fountains
were most of the members of the Temple and a few old associates
and partners from Max's Firm. Scully had realized, to her dismay,
that she and her Mother were the only friends Mulder and his
Mother had at the festivities.

Max was dancing with Dana Scully, after several turns with
Caroline and Margaret. The white-haired man felt he must retire a
debt of gratitude to the slight woman in his arms. "I'd like to
thank you for your help with Mulder."

She smiled up at her partner's gracious stepfather. "Just be good
to him, Mr. Lowenberg. He comes around eventually if he feels
safe. It took more than three years for us to be this comfortable
around each other, but I still expect him to run off at a moment's
notice."

Max nodded to Benjamin Jenkins and Caroline as they passed them
before replying. "He's like many of the Camp survivors, and very
much like his Uncle Isaac, all so easily, well, spooked, that one
ends up on tiptoe around them half the time. They've never really
recovered from their traumas."

She nodded, spotting her partner pacing the edge of the dance
area, warily keeping as much distance as he could between himself
and Miriam Jenkins, who was tracking him persistently, another
young woman in tow.

Max followed her gaze. "You haven't had a chance to tell him about
my old friend?"

She shook her head. "He's been so wired since the Temple service
I've let him alone, since usually that's the wisest course until
he's ready to hear something."

When the music ended, Max offered Scully his arm, guiding her to
intercept Mulder.

Scully continued. "Although he's been better of late, I don't push
him when he's in certain moods."

Max understood many things about his stepson's partner and their
close friendship that eluded even his observant wife. He admired
this sensible young woman, who had chosen a short-sleeved,
burgundy shirtdress with a full-length circle skirt for this
reception, not some low-cut, form-fitting gown.

He leaned down to speak with her. "Leopards don't change their
spots. But, Dana, he may listen to you long enough to escape
Miriam, since that's the third girl from Temple she's chased him
with. As far as my old associate, well, I'm calling the police,
just in case; I still have a few friends on the Force who can be
discrete."

She squeezed his arm as they approached Mulder together.

"Scully!" He hurried over to them, bending down to whisper to his
red-haired partner, just as Max had. "Save me, Scully, that
woman's driving me insane."

Her hands on her hips, she stood back, wondering what price she
could extract for her act of mercy. <This would be fun.> "Oh,
Mulder, I don't know, you look delicious in that tux you borrowed
from Mr. Lowenberg. I don't see how those poor deprived things can
resist you."

He stared down at her, totally confounded by her reluctance,
before he grabbed her arm, still whispering. "Scully! Don't you
understand? I'm being pursued here!" He gritted his teeth. "Help
me!"

The frustration in his quiet growl was almost too much for even
her self-control, but Max winked at her over his shoulder as he
left, and she found a little more resolve. <He's too desperate
even to flirt about this.>

"Well, Mulder, you know what the Bureau would say."

"Scully! We're at a wedding. I'm dying here!" He took her hand as
the music began to steer her deliberately to the center of the
crowd, where he tucked her up against him.

<You'll pay, Dana, but that was worth it.> As they swayed and
rotated slowly, Scully settled under his arm as she had under his
tall stepfather's, reflecting on how strange she felt. She had not
attended many social functions in high school or college,
concentrating on her studies instead. This enforced closeness,
hemmed in by others, seemed otherworldly, and so unlike their
frequent brief physical contacts.

<It must be more enchanting when Romance is involved.> But,
despite the depth of her interdependent bond with Mulder and the
range of emotions he evoked in her, from rage to frustration to
sympathy to deep concern to genuine affection, the venereal ones
were simply not among them. <Should I just come out and tell him
about the man I saw?>

Fox Mulder flattened his hand against his partner's back, calming
his nerves. Miriam Jenkins was on the other side of the dance
floor, wearing a look of resigned defeat, so he was safe from her
wiles. <What was Scully's problem?> Then he understood. His friend
and partner was teasing him, sparring playfully as they usually
did in a moment of security.

He looked down at her head, resting just below his shoulder.
They'd come so far in their years together, past the uneasy
working alliance, past the moment of absolute trust, to this deep
friendship that had sustained him when he thought his mother was
lost. He owed her his life and sanity many times over. He knew he
would again, before they found Sam and the truth behind those
aliens he and his mother had suspicions about, as well as the
strange cases they investigated. <They!> It felt good to realize
it was a they and not a he. <You're not a lone wolf anymore,
Mulder.>

She glanced up at him, feeling his shoulders relax, and knew that
she could tell him, finally. "Mulder?"

"Hum?"

"We have a problem." She stepped back, stood still, and took his
arm, threading their way through the swaying couples to the edge
of the crowd. Once they reached a circular tile fountain in the
back of the house she turned, tugging his shoulder to bring his
head down where she could whisper her observations to him.

Mulder stepped up on the fountain to survey the crowd. "What? He's
here, Scully? Where?" Max Lowenberg was, indeed, not a poor man,
and the home he and Thea had shared overlooked the Atlantic Ocean.
But, the Spanish style house with its red fluted tiles and stucco
walls belonged to Max and Caroline now, from the curved driveway
to the huge pool surrounded by a slate deck.

"Looking for someone, young man?" They spun around.

His linen collar was frayed slightly, the hair askew. "Oh, they
will find me, never fear. It's only a matter of time in this
business, so it's best to spend your money while you can, because
no one retires from the Committee."

<He *had* been on the run.> Scully thought to herself.

The old man turned to Scully. "The Committee has suffered a coup,
you see. It has happened before in its long history, and it will
happen again. You would be well advised to take care of each other
now. They are much more ruthless than we ever were, and capricious
as well. We, at least, did nothing without a good reason."

Mulder stepped off the tiles onto the grass. "Who's after you?
More old men?"

"Actually, they are closer to your age, and you were even at the
FBI Academy with some of them, Mister Mulder. Did my Washington
Associate not tell you?" He watched the partners' faces blanch.
"Obviously not. That's too bad, because he knew most of them
better than I did. I'm only here to pay my respects to two old
friends, while I still can." He turned, facing the couple who were
both the hosts and objects of this celebration, and paused, not
looking back. "Lay your fears to rest about your stepfather,
Mister Mulder; he's as honest a fellow as you'll ever find. Lord
knows, I could never tempt him with money or power." He waved his
hand at the house. "He earned all this through his own hard work."

As Mulder looked down at his partner, she raised an eyebrow at
him. They slipped into the crowd, checking for suspicious behavior
in any of the guests, Scully keeping within earshot of the white-
haired man, hearing him greet Caroline and Max.

Mulder circled the grounds. <There, in the palmettos.> He caught a
glimpse of a black steel rod, and the agent crept up behind the
crouching figure. "Federal Agent! Hands in the air!"

The dark shape spun, firing his rifle to cover his escape.

But Mulder was quicker, leaping on his back, and shoving the gun
away. As the two wrestled on the ground, Mulder heard running
feet. <Please, let it be Scully.>

"OK, Mulder, you've messed with the Group for the last time. The
old guys would never give you what you deserved, but we will."
After he was wrenched upright, he felt cold metal on his neck.
Mulder heard a weapon cock, then the explosion, but he felt
nothing, and found himself remembering that the brain had no pain
receptors. Then a body fell, and the other black shape sprang
away.

"Mulder! You OK?"

He reached up to touch his neck, expecting blood, but feeling
nothing but unbroken skin, then his partner's small fingers
probing the same area.

"You're alright, you know."

He looked down at the man who had threatened him, dropping one
hand to his partner's shoulder.

Scully pointed the assassin's rifle at the ground, shrugging. "It
was the only gun I could find. We should get something over the
body before the guests reach us."

"He's probably gone by now, isn't he?"

"Well, he may live for another few days, Mulder, but he's right.
We will have to be more careful in the future." Scully looked up
at him.

They turned when they heard footsteps.

Mulder's stepfather joined them. "I've told the others to wait.
What happened here, Mulder?" Max parted the spiky branches,
nodded, and faced them. "I expected as much when Dana told me he
appeared. Are you both alright?"

Walking towards the house, Scully waved a hand.

Mulder replied. "Yes, we are. I'm sorry, Max, I mean, about
everything."

The older man grasped his shoulder, wanting to heal this
non-existent breach his stepson felt. "There's nothing for you to
be sorry about, Mulder. I've already told you, you're not
responsible for your Father, and you must stop blaming yourself."
He took Mulder by both shoulders. "I saw much that was evil and
horrible in the Camp, but I also saw acts of incredible kindness
and heroism. I've kept my sanity by thinking about those, and
striving to bring some good out of all that evil. Take my advice,
and do the same."

The younger man stared at his feet. "You should take my Mom away
from here, you know. She's probably the only one left who knows
what went on back then."

They parted when Scully returned.

She shook out the white muslin over the body. "The police are
already here, Mr. Lowenberg. An off-duty Captain was knocking on
the door when I entered."

"Good, if it's Jerry, he'll be able to keep this quiet. I presume
that's the way you two want it?"

The agents nodded.

--o-0-o--

As he stood on the beach, the old man lit another cigarette. It
felt odd to be out of the grey suit, but one had to blend in to
survive. He had come to pay his respects, not as his old colleague
was, in an obvious manner that would get him killed, but the only
way he could, now that he was dead.

<Not really dead, you old devil.> The police report and photos had
been incredibly easy to fake, and the officers the Committee still
owned had been more than willing to do him one final favor. He
snorted.

<Those young punks with their dependence on technology were so
easy to fool.> He had used the well-timed appearance at Mulder's
apartment and the surgically altered body of the vagrant to
complete the ruse. <Well, best to not stay here too long. Be
happy, Caroline, you deserve it. I never wanted to put Luther on
your tail, but orders were orders.> He shrugged. <No orders
anymore.>

When he learned she was still alive, he released her from their
pact, in his own mind, at least. He also understood the members of
the new Group better than the other old men, and hoped to be able
to rein them in once Caroline's son charged after them, as he knew
he eventually would.

--o-0-o--

Hospital
Kingston, Jamaica
Friday, 9:37 pm

"Mamo, are you here?" Eric opened his eyes, wincing at the bright
light. His mother shushed him, but he persisted. "Where's Phoebe?"
Her silent face frightened him. "Don't tell me, please, Mamo?"

She shook her head and pulled aside the curtain separating him
from the next patient. Phoebe lay on the bed, a respirator tube
down her throat.

Eric swayed as he sat up. "What happened, Mamo?"

"They were assassins, dearo. Your girl pushed you to the ground
and stood over you like a tigress until one of them shot her in
the back."

He padded to her bed, touching her face. "Mamo, will she live?"

The old woman nodded. "It was hard to tell that night. The doctors
kept fighting for her life, but she's out of danger now." She took
her son's hand. "You have a concussion, Eric, you should rest
now."

He dropped it and clutched his wife's instead. "Mamo, you said in
the back. Is she?

His Mother shrugged. "It's fifty-fifty, Eric, only the next week
or so will tell."

"Did they catch the men who did this?"

"Yes, but they were bailed out almost immediately upon their
arrest. They've vanished, Eric." His Mother stroked Phoebe's
forehead. "I've looked into her soul, dearo, and I think I like
what I see there."

--o-0-o--

Miami Beach
Saturday, January 11, 1997
10:45 am

"Hey, babe, you waiting for someone?"

Dana Scully ignored the intrusion, having repaired to the public
portions of the beach to catch some sun without her partner, his
family, or her Mother. The Lowenbergs had left for their other
home in Santorini late last night, after Max had convinced his
wife it was still unsafe for either of them to remain in America
for any length of time.

Mulder had concurred, reluctantly, releasing her after promises to
keep in touch via phone or E-mail, whichever was easier for them.
Following their departure, he had awakened into one of his
introspective moods, and Scully had found him sitting by the pool
this morning. At least he knew he had not been abandoned, since
Max had extended a standing invitation for any of them to visit
the ruins on the island whenever they had the free time.

Margaret was beginning to drive Scully crazy. She had been
dropping hints about her partner since New Year's and finally,
early this morning, she brought the subject up forcefully to her
daughter.

--o-0-o--

"Dana, you must have some feelings for him. You spend nearly all
your free time together."

Scully lifted the Pomeranian out of a canvas bag, filling it with
lotion and a beach towel Mulder had purchased at the airport,
before the little dog could wedge himself in again. The image on
the towel of a neon orange dolphin, grinning and leaping towards a
departing turquoise rocket, had been too much for him to resist.

"Yes, Mom, I do. But it's not what you think." She sighed. "You
see, Mulder's a good friend and all, but, we're *partners*. He
needs other friends too, and I'm hoping that by finding his Mom as
approachable as she is now, he won't be so dependent on you and
me. We're to the stage where we're extremely comfortable with each
other, and it's nice to have someone like him around, but..."

"Well, dear, I'm happy to hear you're so comfortable with each
other, and he's nice to be around. Now that your career is going
so well, why not work a little on your personal life?"

Scully shook her head, refusing to let her Mother irritate her.
<Because he's a nut.> "With Mulder? Mom, the Bureau's an old boy's
club. A woman who sleeps with her partner gets called all sorts of
things I won't repeat to you, and has absolutely zero chance of
career advancement."

Margaret waved her hand at the objection. "Oh, dear, it's the
Nineties. Office romances are nothing new."

Scully frowned. "Mo-om, this is the FBI, not some radio station in
Cincinnati." <That used to work.> She slung the bag over her
shoulder.

But her Mother would not defer the conversation to some later
date. <After one of you is gone, Dana?> "Is there something the
matter with Fox?"

Scully dropped her shoulders, taking several deep breaths before
she turned to respond. <What a question, Mom. Samantha, his
Father, his Mother (well, not anymore), Melissa, the insomnia, and
parts of the paranoia are all 'the matter with' Mulder.> "Mom,
you're reading this all wrong. A law enforcement partnership is
different from a regular working relationship. We have to be close
so we can function as one when the situation calls for it, but not
so close that we can't operate independently when we need to. I
really can't tell you everything; we may have to disappear at any
moment because of what we know."

Margaret touched her daughter's hair, not focusing on her words.
"Then is it you, dear, because of what your body has been through?
Aren't you interested in men at all?"

Scully rolled her eyes. "No! Of course I'm interested in men, and
if the situation were right, well..." She shrugged. "It might even
be right with Mulder, one day, but not now. Can't you see?" <No,
she can't. She can't understand. It would upset her too much to
know about the Shadows and the assassins.>

Margaret sighed. "No, dear, I really don't. Fox thinks..."

Scully's lower jaw jutted. "I'm taking a walk, Mom. Please, don't
bring any of this up with him. He has enough to deal with on his
own, without someone he respects and admires, like yourself,
adding to his problems."

As she left, Margaret shook her head, wondering if her daughter
would ever find the happiness she had known with Bill Scully. She
watched through the window as Dana stopped to touch her partner's
shoulder, and he reached up idly to cover her hand with his.

--o-0-o--

"More pushing, Scully?"

She looked down. "How did you know?"

He squinted up at her. "It's your 'I have to leave before I kill.'
expression that's a dead giveaway. You've worn it often enough
when walking away from me after one of our arguments, and you and
your Mom disagree about one thing only, or so it seems." He
sighed. "I can't help but be flattered that she thinks so highly
of me, but if she's made you this angry, then enough is enough. I
guess I can't ask you if you want some company on the beach."

"Oh, you're not so down?"

He nodded. "I'm not all alone, and I like it, although it will
take some getting used to. Max and my Mom want to be available,
but not so close that they're in my face." He winced as he shifted
on the lounge. "It will be good to get to know my Mom, since I
never knew her, really, or my Dad. Maybe when I bring Sam back we
can almost be a family." He dropped his hand from hers as her eyes
drifted down to his side, the bulge of cotton obvious under the
wet spot on the T-shirt.

She pointedly ignored the row of three enlarged grey heads, one
covering its catlike eyes, one his hidden ears, and the third a
slit of a mouth. "How does it feel today?"

"Better. I tried swimming this morning, but the muscles pulled too
much." The quicksilver flashed. "I'll have to avoid more of the
James Bond thing until this heals."

She raised one eyebrow. "What, the wrestling with dangerous
assassins on the lavish estate, or the bedding of the luscious
blonde alien after you're done?"

He stood over her, grinning. "I'll never tell. Go knock'em dead
out there, G-woman."

--o-0-o--

And that, apparently, was what had happened. The obnoxious buzzing
refused to be silent, so Scully opened one eye. <Well, this was a
pleasant surprise.> The voice belonged to a well-developed man
with red curls. He had twin depressions on either side of his
nose, so she knew he wore glasses for most or all of the day. They
chatted for a few minutes, discovering that he too, was from the
DC area.

"Oh, FBI Agent?" He tapped his chest. "Senatorial Aide. We have
the next two weeks off, so I thought, hey, why not. We'll be
working hard enough when we get back. Justice Committee, you
know."

"Who's the Senator?"

The red curls danced in the sun. "Randall, the new Republican from
Texas. We have some major operations to dismantle this term." He
shrugged. "Maybe we'll come do an inspection of the Hoover
Building sometime. Where are you?"

Scully chuckled. "Oh, nowhere you'll see on a tour, that's for
sure. We're stuck in the basement for now." <No reason to tip your
hand, Dana.>

"You say you're here with your Mom?"

She nodded.

"Think you could slip out for a drink or something tonight?"

She studied him. <A drink? An actual social event? You are
knocking'em dead. Maybe this would stifle her Mother about
Mulder.>

"Sure. Where should I meet you?"

"How about right here, say around six?"

"Great. Six it is." She stood up, shaking out the towel, making
sure she was downwind of ... Doug. <You'll have to be more
enthusiastic than that, Dana.>

--o-0-o--

Saturday, 5:30 pm

"But Scully, what do you know about this guy? After everything
we've been through, you can't just go around with strange men at
all hours of the night. You heard what *he* said yesterday."

She pinned her hair up, catching her partner's peeved expression
over her shoulder in the mirror. <I don't look so bad, I guess.>
She had packed a saffron-colored sleeveless silk blouse and a
mid-calf scarlet cotton skirt in case she had to dress more
formally than shorts or less formally than the Service and
Reception had been.

He crossed his arms. "Scully, are you hearing any of this?"

She studied him, lounging in his T-shirt and shorts. <Lucky
Mulder. A white button-down shirt and one of his tamer ties cover
most contingencies.> Her skin was faintly pink, which was better
than deathly winter white, and her leather sandals would pass for
appropriate footwear this evening. She regarded her reflection one
final time and shrugged. <Good as it gets, Dana.>

"Scully?" He had slipped from petulance to genuine concern.

"It's just a drink." She walked over to the bed and bent down to
see his face, holding out a slip of paper. "Mulder, take this card
he gave me and check him out with the Gunmen if you like. Max's
machine is in his room, and it's running '95, just like at work.
If you find anything on him that makes you the least
uncomfortable, call me, OK?"

He nodded, swallowing as he stood.

She straightened, slipping her cel phone in her purse. <Purses. I
hate these things, but the skirt has no pockets.> "If you must
know, I'd rather be spending the evening with you and Mom, but she
won't quit on a certain subject. I hope that by doing this, she'll
understand that we aren't ..."

He sighed. "OK, Scully, I'll do that." He stepped back to offer
her the door first.

She paused, brushing his chest with her shoulder, and smiling up
at him. "Wait up for me?"

He was wearing one of his unfathomable looks, and his voice, when
he replied, was deeper than normal. "You'll have to leap over the
furrow I'll track in the carpet when you come home. Before
midnight, right, Scully?"

She nodded. "It should be well before midnight, Mulder. One of the
good things about vacationing with people at least twice my age is
that I'm finally catching up on all the sleep I've missed over the
past two months. I'd like to keep this unbroken string of eight
hours a night going."

--o-0-o--

Saturday, 7:30 pm

"You are a sorry specimen of the male animal, Mulder."

He frowned at his reflection in the mirror as he talked on the
phone in Max's bedroom. "Frohike, she's my partner and more than
capable of taking care of herself, as you well know."

"Exactly, so why are you having us run the records on this guy?"

"I have a bad feeling about this, that's all. So, what did you
find?"

"Well, Captain Solo, you might want to prepare to eat crow, since
he looks to be squeaky clean. Straight out of Economics from UT at
Austin, Phi Beta Kappa, Baptist preacher for a Father."

"Ooh, now I'm worried, Frohike. Those Baptist preacher's kids can
be wild men, or so I've heard. I'd better get the bail money
ready."

"What, for you?"

He growled. "No, for Scully. After she drop-kicks him into the
Atlantic, I'll have to spring her before Daddy shows up and damns
her to Hell for eternity." He heard mumbling in the background.
"What?"

The next voice was Langly's. "Bad news, G-man. He's not what we
initially thought he is; oh, the life story's right, but he's also
one of these right-wing militia dudes on the weekends. Byers just
cross-referenced the face from the driver's license to our
database on fringe types and he has some real shadowy connections
we've tracked through the years. Seems this Randall character he
works for is one of theirs, not one of yours. You can reach her?"

"Thanks, guys." Mulder hung up the phone, running for the stairs.

--o-0-o--

Club Key Largo
Miami, Florida
Saturday, 7:35 pm

"Excuse me, I need to answer this call." Dana Scully finished her
mineral water and slipped away from the table, taking the phone
and conversation into the women's room. "Scully."

"Scully, it's me. I'm on my way to the car. Where are you?"

"Club Key Largo. It's on Rickenbaker, about a mile north of the
house. What's up?" <Mulder, if this is some excuse...>

"Your Celt isn't all sweetness and light, Scully. The Gunmen have
connected him to fringe groups that might have been involved in
Oklahoma City. Also, that Senator Randall is a real troublemaker.
When I heard Langly say his name, I remembered Skinner and
Matheson had their heads together about him."

"You had a bad feeling about this, right, Mulder? Oh!"

"Scully? Scully? You there?" He heard the phone clatter to the
floor and the call terminate, flooring the gas pedal as his heart
raced.

--o-0-o--

Doug McConnell glanced down at the unconscious woman in the seat
beside him. Having 'Ace' stationed in that bathroom made this
almost too easy. <I knew who you were all along, Dana Scully, and
exactly what threat you pose to the Group. I just didn't think it
would be this easy to get you exactly where we want you. Your 'Ice
Queen' reputation must be larger than life; I thought I would
actually have to continue to pursue you back in DC. Now we just
wait for your partner to roar out of the woodwork, and ...> He
checked his rear-view mirror. <A silver Mercedes, now that's a
twist. The Group will have to rethink some of its strategies.>
Slowing just enough for the other automobile to catch up, he moved
into the right-most lane.

They proceeded down the highway for several miles, bumper to
bumper, and Mulder smelled a trap. As the cars thinned, he noticed
a second, then a third vehicle joining the group, but lagging back
a length or two, sometimes allowing a car to slip in between them
briefly. They were being set up for a drive-by shooting, one that
would pass unnoticed in Miami, perhaps with a small obituary in
the Herald and the Post in DC. He began scanning the surroundings,
looking for a way to even the odds.

As Dana Scully's eyelids fluttered, Doug considered another blow
to the head, but they remained closed. For this to work, they
needed a limp body that Mulder would have to stop and drag into
his car. But she was as motionless as when he carried her out of
the bar, apologizing to the Concierge for his drunken date as he
held the door. The prearranged intersection looming ahead, Doug
opened the door with the button in the driver's side controls, and
shoved the red-haired woman out, watching her roll across the
ground until she was fifteen feet from the edge of the road. As
expected, the Mercedes pulled alongside, and in the rear-view
mirror, he saw Mulder's head disappear.

"Scully!" Mulder reached for the driver's side door, but he heard
a click as the passenger door latch was released.

"Mulder, move! It's a set-up!" His partner was crawling into the
car.

When she was mostly inside, he grabbed her under the arm and took
off, just before the other cars reached his bumper. Scully twisted
around to slam her door shut, shouting the location of the closest
speed trap. Accelerating as he turned at a cross alley, he nodded,
so within minutes, they heard the wail of a police siren. At the
sound, the other vehicles turned off, breaking to the left and
right. Digging in his pockets, Mulder pulled out his FBI ID as the
car slowed to a stop. He winced at the fresh scrapes he saw on her
arms and legs as a uniformed officer tapped on the window.

--o-0-o--

Third Precinct Station
Miami, Florida
Saturday, 8:57 pm

Scully held herself still on the wobbly pine chair, one hand
locked around a split up the front left leg. "Look, Sergeant
Simmons, we appreciate your efforts on our behalf, but you'll
never catch these guys. They'll skitter back into the darkness and
make another attempt when we're in DC or on a case."

The slender African-American lifted his hands from the keyboard
and leaned back. "Agent Scully, you were almost killed out there."
He waved his hand in the air. "Besides, this guy is a member of a
white supremacist militia group we've been tracking for months
now. Agent Mulder's information is the best evidence we have to
date. Are you sure you don't want to press charges when we grab
him?"

As Scully slid the chair against the side of the desk for support,
she glanced over at her partner, who had moved to an unoccupied
desk where he could phone her Mother in privacy. She had heard him
whispering heatedly, but now he was nodding in silence.

She rubbed her wrist, hoping it was just a sprain. "No, there
really is more to this than you should know." She looped her hair
behind her ear, having lost the pins sometime during the evening's
events.

Mulder rejoined them.

She could read his frustration in the twist of his lips as she
continued. "I think we should go. Don't get sidetracked by what
happened here. If you can ever come up with anything else, let us
know; we want these guys out of circulation as well."

Her partner wrote their numbers on the police report. "Use this
one for the Bureau, and if you want to contact us after hours,
there are our cel phones. You finished here, Scully?"

At her nod, they shook the officer's hand before leaving.

--o-0-o--

"We need to talk." The noises of the city stilled as he touched
the window controls.

She rubbed her left shoulder as she rotated her arm, checking the
damage. "You're concerned about the D'Amato documents?"

Mulder nodded. "They're our best insurance, now that the Shadow
governments are sparring with each other, but Max had a good
thought when we were discussion Samantha. I think we should move
the notebooks out of the country, Scully. If this new group of
Shadows would try a stunt like this, then they would think nothing
of staging waves of bank robberies to pull them out if they wanted
them."

"And I'm afraid, Mulder, that our friends in the Senate aren't as
powerful as they lead us to believe, if Randall and his aides are
on the other side. Right now, the only records of the locations of
the notebooks are in both of our heads, and encrypted on my
laptop. We'll have to move them stealthily to where, Switzerland?"

He shrugged. "Yeah, probably." He touched her hand, carefully
avoiding a bruise. "You want to stop by a hospital?"

She shook her head. "The road rash? I've had worse when I was
learning to blade."

He lifted an eyebrow.

"Maybe not, Mulder, but outside of my wrist, the rest is minor.
I'd like a long soak though, to work out these aches." She shifted
in the seat and reclined the back, deep in thought.

--o-0-o--

Mulder checked over his shoulder when he heard Scully walk up
behind him. "Feeling better?"

Nodding, Scully settled in the cushions of the leather sofa,
turning over the left hemlength of her shorts twice to move the
material away from the cuts. She had been stiff enough from the
tumbling and rolling that she had willingly let Mulder support her
when they returned to the house, resting her shoulder against him,
his arm wrapped tightly around her waist.

Margaret had met them at the door, walking behind until they
reached the bathroom, where she had taken over. Dana's blouse and
shirt were ruined, and her mother had used the opportunity to make
a great fuss at the scrapes. When Scully could take no more of it,
she sent Margaret outside into the hallway. Mulder had stationed
himself there, pacing and fretting, while the Pomeranian watched,
head tilted, woofing softly at the confusion.

"I told Mom to get some rest, that everything was fine." She
focused on the screen, where a giant white balloon was bounding
after a man in a black suit and sneakers on a beach. "Oh, Mulder,
don't watch this. You'll be a basket case for days."

He smirked. "Too late, Scully. It's a marathon; they've just
finished 'Once Upon A Time', and this is 'Fallout'. We can't stop
before the end, you know."

She shifted until her scrapes were out of contact with the couch.
<Just don't start with the 'Be seeing you' stuff, partner. This
show is too much like our lives sometimes.> Scully nodded off
while Patrick McGoohan was speaking to the assembled black and
white faces.

Mulder lowered the volume, waiting until she stirred and touched
her hand. "Hey, you hungry?"

Murmuring her agreement, she followed him into the kitchen.

--o-0-o--

"Well, Mulder, you were right; I shouldn't have considered this
guy." She poked at the remaining piece of broccoli with her fork.

They were seated at the breakfast bar, Mulder munching on a roast
beef sandwich, Scully diligently working her way through tossed
salad leftover from the dinner she had missed.

She broke a crouton into several fragments with her fork. "Going
out with a man who talks to me on the beach. That's not me,
Mulder, and I should know that a guy who would approach me like
that would have some other agenda on his mind. Even as kids, Mel
was always the attractive one."

Frowning, he dropped the bread on his plate and ducked down to see
her face. "Scully! Enough. You're not ugly, you know, and I wish
you'd stop talking about yourself like that. In fact, I had
expected half the male population of the Bureau to beat a path to
the basement years ago."

She shrugged as Mulder walked over to the refrigerator, carrying
his empty glass. He held up the pitcher of lemonade and she
nodded, so he refilled hers as well.

When he returned, he swiveled on the stool seat to face her. "I'm
sorry your Mom has been riding you about finding a guy. Mine
dropped a hint or two as well over the past few days, but her
problems with Dad kept her from being more insistent, I think."

Spearing a cherry tomato, she stared at the ice cubes swirling in
her glass. "Maybe this vacation wasn't such a good idea after
all."

Walking around the bar to face her, he lifted her chin with his
finger. "I'd never say that, Scully. I've spent most of my life
alone, and I'm tired of it. When you were taken, I nearly lost my
mind. When you almost died in March, I knew I couldn't go on
searching on without you searching alongside me. I don't want to
go back to being just partners and only seeing you when I'm
suffocating in a tie."

As his hand fell to the table, she crinkled her nose. "I like
spending time together outside of work. If we were two male
agents, no one would give it a second thought. In fact, we could
spend weekends fishing together and be congratulated on our
bonding efforts. I think it gives us insights into each other's
psyches that we can't pick up while sparring over a case, or
filling out expense reports. Actually, I'm glad to have had the
chance to meet your Mother for real, Mulder. She is as wonderful a
woman as Mom said, and if she were my age right now, ..."

He grinned back. "If Mom were your age, I'd have no trouble hiring
her as our next X-files agent. If Sam has half her guts, she's
probably made a good life for herself, wherever she is."

His partner had sobered, remembering their conversation in the
car. "But, Mulder, this business with the D'Amato papers has us
almost living together, which may be too much too soon." She
looked up at him. "Don't misunderstand me, you're the closest
thing I have to a best friend, as 'Valley Girl' as that sounds.
There are times when I couldn't sleep if you weren't either on my
sofa or a phone call away. However, it's good to have space and
time to ourselves."

He shook his head.

She touched his arm. "I know, but you never had three noisy, pesky
siblings who wouldn't give you a quiet minute to read or study."
Scully shrugged, gripping his wrist to soften her words. "I'm
sorry, considering what you've suffered since Sam was taken it
probably sounds callous, but Mel used to drive me crazy with all
her boyfriend talk when she was in high school."

He stared out the dark windows, wondering how he would have
reacted had Sam reached the age when she became infatuated with
boys.

"Don't get me wrong, Mulder, I don't want to go back to just
partners, not at all. In fact, I like where we are right now. It's
nice to have a friend to spend time with, watching videos or just
sitting around, a guy you trust enough that if you fall asleep at
his place, you won't wake up to an octopus..."

He held up his hands. "Scully, I'm no saint; I haven't taken a vow
or anything."

She smiled at the image of her lanky partner in a tonsure, robe,
and sandals. "I'm no nun, Mulder." She watched his eyes sparkle.
"But, we know where we stand with each other, right?"

He grinned. "So if somehow I find a woman foolish enough to take a
liking to yours truly?"

She shrugged. <Sauce for the goose...> "I'd give her a thorough
physical and background check first. I read through your X-file on
Kristen Kilar, you know. And if someone should, for reasons other
than revenge for the Shadows, ask out your short, dumpy partner
with the odd hair and eyes?"

He sobered. "I'd chaperon. I don't want you to get hurt again,
Scully."

Scully lifted one corner of her mouth. <Now we know where we both
stand.> She focused on his eyes, clear and still sparkling,
casting about in her mind for a way to bring the discussion to a
close before it turned too personal. "I think Sam missed out on a
great big brother, Mulder."

He studied her face, letting himself reminisce.

She thought she saw the slightest hint of regret before it was
replaced by a desire for closure as well.

He leaned over the counter, touching her hand. <I'm always
surprised at how much we think alike on some things.> "I guess
that nails it, doesn't it? We have a mutually exclusive
partnership between two friends who drive each other insane
occasionally?"

She shook her head. "I don't know what to say, Mulder. I couldn't
explain us to Susan back in December after the virus, and I can't
explain us now."

Checking his watch, his face lit. "Do you realize that in fifteen
minutes, the Godzilla marathon is starting? Care to join me?"

They set the dishes in the sink, before walking back to the
entertainment room.

She glanced up at him. "Any cockroaches in these?"

"Nope." He tipped his head at her. "Flying turtles though."

"Any sewer-dwelling mutants?"

Mulder held up his hand. "The mutants have an island all to
themselves."

"Any fluid-sucking bugs to wrap us in cocoons for later
consumption?"

He shook his head. "Only pudgy kids in funny shorts."

"Any secret agents running for their lives?"

"Just Raymond Burr speaking bad Japanese."

"OK, partner, it's a date." She took his proffered arm. <Besides,
I'll be asleep by the first commercial break.>

--o-0-o--

"Hey, Scully, wake up, this is the good part!"

She lifted her head to focus on the screen. Balsa wood cars were
tumbling, end over end, along the streets of a miniature Tokyo.
She rolled her eyes and dropped her head back onto his chest.
"Mulder, these go down better with robots."

He grinned. "Yeah, the MST Movie was too short." He waited until
she was asleep again before he slid the arm that lay along the
back of the sofa over her side to hold her shoulder. <But that's
why it's the good part, Scully. It's all happening in there, and
we're safe out here.> Mulder grew somber. <For a while longer,
anyway.>

--FINIS--

TWELFTH NIGHT

------------------------------------------------------------------

Clown: Why, 'some are born great, some achieve greatness,
and some have greatness thrown upon them.' I was
one, sir, in this interlude; one Sir Topas, sir; but
that's all one. 'By the Lord, fool, I am not mad.'
But do you remember? 'Madam, why laugh you at
such a barren rascal? and you smile not, he's gagged:'
and thus the whirligig of time brings in his revenges.

Twelfth Night; Or, What You Will

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

Author's Notes: I had several objectives when writing this story.
First, I was challenged by a comment on the A.T.X-F forum that
Mulder and Scully at Mom Scully's for Thanksgiving wouldn't make
an interesting X-file. So, I began planning a story using the
Celtic myths and legends surrounding the end of the year, from
Samhuinn to Twelfth Night, and there are many good spooky things
to fear! My basic references were Robert Graves' "The White
Goddess" and James Frazer's "The Golden Bough", should you wish to
look something up. I'd read them both years ago (for fun, not for
a class or anything), and it was a pleasure revisiting all the
tree oghams and king rituals. In fact, as I was writing this, I
found myself wrapping more and more Celtic myth directly into the
storyline itself, not just the X-file. Then, Mulder's closing
statement for "Paperclip": "It's about Fate." started happening
automatically. The Feill Fionnain ritual Sam is performing when
Mulder has his Grail vision is from "Scottish Witchcraft: The
History and Magik of the Picts" by Raymond Buckland. Also, the
plot of Shakespeare's "Twelfth Night; Or, What You Will" about a
brother and sister separated by misfortune, and the staunch friend
who helps the brother find her, fits the Sam storyline so
perfectly the whole play could be considered prologue. (Not that
this story is anything other than several orders of magnitude out
of the Bard's league, BTW.)

Second, I have striven valiantly to finally reunite Caroline and
Fox Mulder, and I had to take quite a long detour to do it. I
found myself bringing in Phoebe Green, and developing Max's and
Caroline's characters extensively. Apologies to any UK readers
about Phoebe. I've tried to substitute British English when I was
aware of the idioms, but I'm afraid I don't have enough of a
command of the various "flavours" of our common tongue to be
completely authentic.

Third, I wanted to write yet another story with Mulder and Scully
as close friends and colleagues, since that's the way I like'em.
Which means, no Dynamic Duo parked on a rock in the middle of a
lake, Scully chewing out Mulder while he shivers like a lost
puppy! Conversely, it also means, to quote the delightful Douglas
Adams: "No sex please, we're ameboids and gachularia." (I have no
idea if I've spelled gachularia right; for all I know, Adams may
have made the word up.)

Loads of folks to thank, and if I've forgotten anyone, mea culpa
and apologies in advance: Sheryl Martin for her kind words on
"Xibalba" and encouraging me to write more. Jennifer Lyon also had
compliments for me, but her message never made it to my server, so
thank you, too. Robert Griffiths suggested Walford for Eric and
Phoebe's flat (nod to Eastenders, I was looking for something a
starving artist could afford). Fritz Wonnacott made a tape of
"Fire" for me, so I could see Phoebe Green in action. Kathryn
Atkins made copies of the Trilogy and "Pusher" for me as well, and
I think I may have worn the tape out already. (Here's hoping
"Wetwired" is as good as "Pusher"!) I have had many long,
enlightening discussions with Antony Ferrucci about religion and
life in general. Adina Ringler has lifted my spirits many times
with her words of encouragement, as have all those folks who write
me to say they like my stories. Finally, I never could have
finished a year-ending story when it was 89 degrees outside in
April, had it not been for the Windham Hill CDS "A Winter's
Solstice" and "A Winter's Solstice II", and many of the CDS of
Celtic music on the Maggie's Music label.

A few closing thoughts. As I read through the last section, I
realized this was more of a Mulder-centered story than my other
two were, but as always, I like to seek a balance between FM & DS,
since they are a team. Teamwork was the thing I enjoyed most about
the Trilogy and "Pusher", and has been missing for most of the
Third Season, IMHO.

The episode "Fire" that is Phoebe Green's one and with luck, only,
appearance on the X-files is also DD's one and only appearance in
a tuxedo. Now, I don't know about you other ladies, but I thought
he looked FINE, so I wanted to come up with some excuse to put FM
in one here. (I mean fine as in excellent, as in "You look fine,
Jack." from the original Batman movie with Keaton and Nicholson.)
You didn't think I'd let Phoebe totally off the hook for messing
with our G-man's mind, did you?

The bit about Scully feeling strange while dancing with Mulder is
not just a dig at the TV Guide photos, but arises from an incident
about eight years ago in my own life. The group I worked in at the
time socialized together quite a lot, and after one Section party,
several of us went out dancing, including my then boss. As
pleasant and helpful a superior as he was, I could never have
hoped for, but slow dancing with him felt just plain weird, so I
decided to incorporate my reactions into Scully's thinking.

I'm such a softie I couldn't even kill off the Smoking Man, given
the opportunity, but the image of him standing on the outside
looking in at Caroline's two weddings was too good to pass up.

As usual, comments and constructive criticisms are appreciated,
and if you just want to write to say you loved it, well, who am I
to question such good judgement?

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Mary Ruth Keller "Is it possible distain should die while
Alexandria, VA she hath such meet food to feed it,
Phone: (703)683-1599 as Signoir Benedick?"
mkeller@universe.digex.net Much Ado About Nothing
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