Date: Mon, 3 Mar 1997
From: fox42@ix.netcom.com

Subject: "Just Friends" by Gerry Hill

Disclaimer: This story is based on the characters and situations
created by Chris Carter, the Fox Network and Ten Thirteen Productions.
As such, the characters named are the property of those entities and
are used without permission, although no copyright infringements are
intended. The following work is for the distribution and
entertainment of fanfic members only. Any further distribution of
this work without the author's consent is in violation of federal law.

Summary: Just when Mulder and Scully are exploring a closer
relationship, catastrophe strikes. (This is NOT a Scully
cancer story; it takes place before that event).

Classification: T, A, MSR and Mulder/Scully.

Rating: PG-13 until Part 4b, where there is an NC-17 (for sexual
description and situations) and a PG-13 rated version.

Spoilers: Mentions of situations from "Terma," "War of the
Copraphages," and "Home."

JUST FRIENDS
by Gerry Hill (fox42@ix.netcom.com)

The tension in the quiet basement office in the depths of the FBI
building was thick, unbroken by conversation. The sudden "slap" of a
file folder hitting the top of a desk caused Special Agent Dana Scully
to jump slightly in surprise, which in turn caused her to splash some
coffee from the mug she held onto her burgundy skirt.

"Shit," she muttered. She pushed her chair back and stood, intending
to go down the hall to the ladies' room for some damage control.
Special Agent Fox Mulder, sounding long-suffering, sighed loudly,
causing Scully to throw an irritated look in his direction.

"Sorry to bother you, Mulder," she said sarcastically. "I've spilled
coffee on my clothes because you startled me."

Mulder's eyebrows raised in an incredulous expression. "I beg your
pardon?"

"Apology accepted," she snapped.

He studied her from her toes up to her head, and finally said, "I
won't make the usual insensitive male comments about why you're
probably so crabby lately. I'll just plan to keep out of your way
until you can be civil."

Her eyes widened as she stared at his superior/long-suffering/
condescending expression, and refrained by a whisker from throwing
something at him. Before she did or said anything she would regret
later, she frantically tried to recall his friendship and past
kindnesses. Oh, well; she had tried. "Go to hell," she choked out.

Scully whirled and stalked out of the room, wondering furiously how he
could be such an insensitive bastard at times.

After working on the coffee spill and having some success in removing
it from her skirt, Scully got to thinking about what Mulder had said.
She had to reluctantly admit to herself that minor day-to-day
irritations had been getting under her skin more than usual over the
past few days...OK, weeks. Part of it might have been the news that
an old college friend was getting married for the *second* time
already, and had three children to bring to the second marriage. And
her older brother's wife had recently presented mom with her fourth
grandchild.

Scully was feeling lonely, unwanted, barren, and unattractive at her
own lack of any prospect for marriage and motherhood. It seemed to
weigh more heavily on her consciousness every day.

She could trace some of this feeling back to the case involving the
incestuous Peacock family, when Mulder had said something that hit
home. They had been idly discussing the Mulder and Scully families'
genetics, and he had said to her, with an interesting speculative look
in his eyes, "I never thought of you as a mother before, Scully." The
vision of a perfectly beautiful little Mulder/Scully baby had flashed
into her mind, but she had quickly shoved it right back out.

Resolved to act more cheerfully and to stop piling the side-effects of
her angst on her partner, she returned to the office. Only to find it
empty, with a note left on her computer screen: "Went home early to
pack for our field trip tomorrow. Hope the stain came out and that
you feel better. Go home and get some rest. See you in the morning.
M."

Ashamed even more than before at her previous nastiness, she thought
how difficult he could make it to stay mad at him.

At 8:00 pm, her new-found determination was sorely tested when she
answered the ringing telephone.

"Scully."

"Hey, Scully, bad news. Our flight was cancelled. We have to catch
an 11:00 pm flight tonight if we hope to make our meeting in San
Antonio tomorrow."

She glanced at the clock, saw that she had two hours to get ready,
choked back a scream of panic, and managed to calmly reply, "Fine.
I'm half packed anyway," as she crossed her fingers. There was a
brief pause, then Mulder pushed his luck by asking, "Could you pick
me up on the way to the airport, Scully?"

Feeling reckless with good will, she said, "Sure, Mulder. Be at the
curb at 10:00. We'll just have carry-on, right?"

"Well, I had planned on bringing a few extra things. The motel has a
pool, and also I wanted to bring my Armani for the meeting - impress
the mayor and all that."

Thinking "he could wear the Armani on the damn plane" and "how much
room does a Speedo take, anyway?" Scully said aloud, "OK; 9:30 sharp."

She disconnected and literally ran around the apartment, attempting to
put some kind of wardrobe together. She had planned on washing and
drying some things before packing, but figured she could just make it
with what was available if they didn't have to stay in San Antonio
longer than planned.

Hesitating as she was about to close her bag, she impulsively grabbed
her as-yet-unworn deep blue bikini swimsuit. It was far skimpier than
anything she had worn before, but she decided to try it out on the
trip. If Mulder could get away with wearing the scrap of material he
called a swimsuit, so could she. Well, she had never actually *seen*
him wearing it, but had glimpsed it in his luggage before. He always
hoped to go swimming while on the road, but they either didn't have
the time or there were no pools at the rat-traps Mulder optimistically
called "motels."

Mulder had told her that the San Antonio city budget was paying for
their stay, and that the mayor's assistant had booked two nice rooms
at "La Casa Verde," which was near the airport and sported a
magnificent pool and gym.

She put her bag into the trunk of the car, and just made it to the
curb in front of Mulder's place at 9:30 on the dot. She waited. And
waited. And waited. At 9:45 he emerged on the run with two sizeable
bags.

Scully pulled the trunk release, he threw the luggage inside, then
shoved it around a little to make it fit. He slammed the lid and soon
was sitting next to his partner, clearly expecting a lecture on his
tardiness.

Instead, he was nearly floored when Scully turned her glorious
full-wattage smile on him and said, "Buckle up!" and pulled out
into traffic.

Mulder tested the waters.

"So, I take it that you're feeling better?"

Still smiling, Scully answered, "I'm fine, Mulder."

Oh. Well, *that* could mean anything. It was usually Scully-code for
"I'm in a bad way, but I'm not about to admit it to you." Tonight,
however, he wasn't so sure; she *seemed* to be in unusually good
humor.

"The reason I was running late was that Frohike called me," he
ventured.

"Oh?"

"Yeah. He's uncovered some information that is leading him to believe
that this trip isn't totally about us lending our expertise in the
weird serial killings. He says that something else is going on down
there but can't get at what it is yet."

"Cancerman?"

"Don't know. He said that some people connected to some people
involved with the consortium appear to be "on the move" in his
words. He's trying figure out what's going on."

Scully was silent after that in order to concentrate on driving
through the road construction mess over the last ten miles to the
airport. It had begun to rain, which didn't make the situation any
easier. The last mile was spent directly behind a cement truck whose
top speed appeared to be six miles per hour. It was nearly 10:30
before they finally found an empty space at the far end of a ten-acre
long-term parking lot.

They caught a shuttle to the terminal after standing in the rain for
eight minutes (according to a peeved Mulder, glancing his watch every
minute or so), and then raced to the ticket counter so he could check
his bags. Scully saw him get into a line longer than the one she had
encountered when going to an R.E.M. concert.

She walked up to him and said, "I'll go check in at the gate and wait
for you there."

He nodded, his mind not totally with her, but looking for some
movement in the line.

"Good luck," she thought, and made her way through the security check,
cleared her gun, then approached the counter at the gate.

She found that most of the passengers were on board, and the airline
clerks were about to give the FBI agent's seats away to stand-by
passengers.

Scully ignored the glares she received and told the clerk, "My partner
and I are on official FBI business. He's right behind me and is
getting his boarding pass at the front ticket counter."

She was led to the side while the flight staff was informed of the
presence on board of two armed federal agents, then they waited for
Mulder.

And waited. The flight was scheduled to leave in two minutes and
still no sign of him. The security point was called, and he had just
been checked through. In another minute he could be seen sprinting
down the corridor toward the gate, tie and coattails flying.

He slowed when he reached Scully and flashed his best grin to the
airline staff. Scully noted that they were very forgiving and helpful
all of a sudden. What a charmer! And she didn't think that he was
entirely aware of the affect he had on people.

Mulder put a hand to her lower back and escorted her into the jetway
and onto the plane. The doors were closed immediately, and they were
seated near the front on the left side of the MD80. They were both
thankful that the left side of the plane only had two seats in each
row. They could sit together, and neither one had to take a middle
seat.

While Scully was buckling her seat belt, he leaned toward her from his
seat on the aisle and breathed into her ear, "Let's get pillows; it'll
be a long flight." From out of nowhere she felt a sudden overwhelming
rush of desire for him, and leaned forward so her hair swung down and
hid her flushed face. She was intensely conscious of his warm body so
near to her own.

"No, thanks," she managed, "I'm going to read Dr. Seifert's pathology
notes on the last serial murder in San Antonio." She was mortified
and wondered, "Why now? After all these years, why is his breath on
my skin and his voice in my ear practically giving me an orgasm? Get
a grip, woman!"

When she finally felt that it was safe to look up at Mulder, she saw
that his eyes were twinkling with either amusement or mischief, or
perhaps both. Scully had the horrible thought that he was completely
aware of the affect he had just had on her. She stared aggressively
at him until he grinned and stood up. Unlatching the overhead
compartment, he rummaged around for a moment and soon emerged with a
pillow. Tossing it onto his seat, he shrugged out of his suit coat,
folded it, and placed it in the compartment before sitting back down.

Scully was fascinated by this whole production for some reason, her
eyes watching his lean body moving and stretching...she abruptly
looked down at her file and tried to lose herself in the notes about
the hydrochloric acid in the victim's eye sockets.

Mulder was at a complete loss. Scully had been a real bitch over the
past week or so, but had suddenly radiated sweetness and light, under
trying circumstances at that. Now she was physically and mentally
withdrawing from him and turning a key in the lock. He could feel the
freezing air between them.

Something was bothering her, he knew. "Since I'm a professionally
trained detective and psychologist, you would think that I would have
a clue," he thought with an amused contempt at his inability to ferret
out her problem. "It's likely to be obvious and right under my nose,
too," he grumped as he settled against the pillow and closed his eyes.

If he had a clue as to what Scully was thinking just at that moment,
however, he would have blushed all the way to his toes. Her mind kept
turning to carnal thoughts and these thoughts all featured Mulder.

From behind the file, her eyes roved down to his thigh, which was
almost, but not quite, touching hers. A bead of sweat formed on her
upper lip. She licked her dry lips and shifted uncomfortably.

She was becoming very concerned about this new-found sexual frenzy or
mania of hers. She even briefly wondered if she was under some
insidious outside influence, but quickly discounted that notion. Then
she decided that her worries over her unwed status and the lack of
children was the cause. He was the closest thing to an available,
desirable male that she had, so it was natural to look for a solution
close to home. And, finally, she admitted to herself that she had
always found him attractive, but had forcefully pushed those feelings
*way* down for all the obvious reasons.

By the time the agents walked off the plane in San Antonio, Scully was
no closer to resolving her feelings than when she had first
acknowledged them. She was holding her emotions so tightly in check
that, when Mulder touched her arm at the car rental counter, she
jumped a foot. And later as they drove to the motel, she refused to
look at him and kept her gaze locked on the bright lights of deserted
stores, gas stations and office buildings. At 2:30 am on a Tuesday,
there wasn't much to see.

The motel turned out to be an attractive, rambling, stucco Spanish-
style structure. After picking up the keys, they silently rode the
elevator to the third floor, got out, and walked toward their
adjoining rooms.

Mulder couldn't stand it any more. When they had set their baggage
down in the hall to unlock the doors to their rooms, he turned to
Scully and gently put his hands on her shoulders.

He leaned down to look her in the eyes and said, "Scully, I have to
know what's wrong. Tell me."

Her eyes were huge as she stared at him from five inches away. Mulder
was astonished when he suddenly found Scully's lips against his in a
tender kiss. Before he could respond one way or the other, she had
turned away and was unlocking her door with her card key.

Regaining his motor skills, Mulder reached out to touch her shoulder
again, but she bent down, grabbed her bag, and disappeared into her
room. The door closed gently but firmly in his face.

He let his breath out in a whoosh and sagged against the wall next to
her door.

He wanted to know what the hell *that* had been about. Did it merely
express trust and friendship? No, that should have been, at the
*most* a hug or peck on the cheek. Then...was it love? He didn't
dare to hope such a thing. He had loved Scully for so long now that
it just was a part of who he was. But to have her love him back?
God. Her lips had been so soft. He wanted to break the door down and
ravish her, but at the same time he was terrified of how he could lose
everything by giving in to his impulses.

Click!

The door opened again and Scully peeked out around the edge of the
door jamb at him. She smiled and shook her head.

"Why don't you take your bags into your room, take off your clothes..."
His eyes widened alarmingly. "And get into something comfortable,"
she hastily added. "Then come over here and we'll talk. OK?" She
hoped he didn't see the naked need in her eyes.

For a long moment he stood there, steadily gazing at her in silence
with an unreadable expression on his face. She took it as rejection,
he realized in dismay, when her smile faded and she retreated to the
haven of her room. Oh, no.

He decided to do as she had suggested and get changed before going back
to have that talk with her, and smoothing over the misunderstanding.
Hands sweating slightly, he hauled his bags over to the next door.

Mulder ran his card through the locking mechanism and carried his
luggage through the short entry hall toward the main part of the room.
As he passed the dark opening to the bathroom on his left, a bulky
shape loomed out and put a gun to his head.

"Keep quiet and move over to the bed," was growled into his ear.

Burdened with his bags, Mulder hadn't been able to react quickly
enough, and now saw no option but to do as he was told. He dropped
the bags and moved forward with the unknown intruder close behind. He
was aware then of another presence in the murky half-light of the
room. This person was seated in one of the chairs at the small table
by the curtained window.

This second person spoke. "Give me your guns, Agent Mulder; both of
them. Very slowly, butts first, please."

The barrel of the gun at his head pressed harder into his skin and
Mulder reluctantly surrendered his weapon from his waist holster, then
knelt down and removed the ankle holster. He stood and put everything
onto the table.

The seated man said, "Sit down, Agent Mulder." After he perched on
the end of the bed with his captor's henchman hovering at his side,
the voice continued. "I have a story to tell, and then I want your
cooperation. If you don't do as I ask, your partner's brain will be
splattered all over the wall in her room by a third party, who is
standing by. Is that clearly understood?"

"What's this all about?" Mulder demanded, his voice tight.

The shadowy figure waved his hand and suddenly a fist rammed into his
side, knocking the breath from his lungs. He desperately gasped for
air and felt as though his ribs were damaged.

He was dimly aware of someone saying, "Don't ask questions again. You
won't get any answers, and we'll have to hurt you some more."

When Mulder was breathing more normally, the voice said, "Here is your
primary weapon. I've removed all but one round. I'm warning you now
that if I don't contact a certain individual in a certain way at
certain pre-agreed intervals, I can guarantee your partner's demise."

Mulder felt a helpless rage at that statement, but believed that these
men would do exactly what they said. He had seen too much in the past
few years to underestimate the shadow government and it's permutations.
He slowly stood up with a wince from the damage to his side and was
returning his gun to the holster at his waist when the phone rang.

After two rings, he was told, "Answer it. Get rid of whoever it is,
including and especially your partner."

Mulder slowly picked up the receiver and said, "Hello?"

"Mulder, do you need some help changing?" Scully asked playfully. It
had taken courage for her to give this another chance, and it was
evident in the lilt of her voice.

Mulder closed his eyes for a second, then said, "Sorry, Scully,
something's come up. We'll have to talk later."

There was a silence.

"Exactly what has 'come up,' Mulder?" She was trying for a teasing,
light tone, but he could detect the undercurrent of hurt and confusion
flowing through the receiver.

"Ha, ha. Very funny. Actually, the boys may have dug up something.
I've got a meeting. Sorry."

"That's all you have to say...Fox?" She almost sounded frightened of
his response.

"It's only a meeting, Scully." He had meant it to sound placating,
but it must have come out in a patronizing tone, because she was
silent.

He sighed then, and she heard it.

"Fine," she said brightly. "I'll see you at 8:30, ready for work.
Sir." She hung up.

He had heard the threat of tears in her voice, and he felt a deep
sense of loss. He couldn't bear to have come so close, and then
see the barrier slam down between them once more.

He hung up, his face impassive, and waited to hear the price he would
have to pay to keep Scully safe.

"We have set the machinery in motion to murder your partner," he
added, "in a way which will appear to be an accident. It will be
a quiet death, designed to gather the least amount of attention."

"I thought you said..." Mulder began.

"Let me finish. IF you do not cooperate, we will carry out those
plans. First of all, we are not aligned with the person you call
'Cancerman.' Our agenda is contrary to his, and we are about to bring
an end to his - er - reign. You may not believe this, Agent Mulder,
but he has been protecting you up to this point. You and your parents
would have been dead years ago had he not intervened."

Mulder's derisive snort was ignored, and he continued.

We are about to eliminate 'Cancerman' and his cronies. You are
included in his group, along with your UN informant."

Mulder's eyes were riveted on the speaker, hardly daring to breathe.

"If you cooperate, then Agent Scully, the Assistant Director and
others will be left alone. We strongly feel that they will not
be a factor once the group I mentioned is gone for good."

"Why Marita?" Mulder wanted to know.

"My dear boy, she is an integral part of Cancerman's agenda. She is
nearly his equal in the hierarchy. And you; aren't you curious about
yourself?"

Mulder shrugged. "Obviously you see me as a threat."

"Oh, you don't know the half of it. There is one other thing I can do
for you before we...take you out of the picture, so to speak. I
suppose you still want to know what happened to your sister."

Mulder did come off the bed at that. He ignored the jab of the gun at
the back of his neck as he rasped, "Tell me."

"I'll tell you, but not until you've agreed to cooperate with us, and
done what we will ask you to do."

Tiredly, Mulder said, "I don't see that I really have any choice.
You'll kill a lot of good people if I don't go along with you." He
looked up and asked, "But why bother to get my cooperation? Why not
just kill me outright?"

"Because we do not want your body found immediately. There must be a
question as to what has happened to you. Some will suspect suicide,
some murder, but it's important to our agenda that your fate remain a
mystery. At least for a while. There will be enough deaths shortly
to explain away, without yours, too."

Mulder was pale and the muscles of his jaw were rigid. He took a deep
steadying breath, and then asked, "How do I know that you won't just
have Scully killed anyway?"

The man smiled. "You don't. But, as I said, there will already be a
lot of deaths and if we don't need to kill someone, why bother? It's
more trouble than it's worth; unless, of course, you refuse to
cooperate."

Mulder sat down on the edge of the bed again, his head in his hands.
Finally, he looked up and said, "What do you want me to do?"

(Continued in Part II)

Part II

Flanked by the two men, Mulder walked to the elevators with a wistful
glance at the door to Scully's room. He wished for a little more time
so he could tell his partner how he really felt about their
relationship. But he thought that Scully knew; had probably always
known.

He didn't see the man at the other end of the corridor, who moved to
enter the room they had just vacated.

Scully viciously threw the empty ice bucket against the wall, but it
didn't do anything to appease her distress. She was angry at Mulder,
but more angry with herself. How could she have come on to him like
that, after all this time. She may have ruined everything they had
built up over the years. Shit!

After pacing and berating herself for a few more minutes, she walked
to the window, which looked out over a side entrance to the motel, and
a large park beyond that. A dark Buick had pulled up to the entrance
and she saw someone who looked a lot like Mulder getting into the back
seat with someone. She was almost certain that it had been Mulder.

In the glaring light of the outdoor fixtures, she idly noted the
license number of the car as it drove away, but her primary emotion
was that of "dumpee." "He's ditched me again, and this time it was
probably my own damn fault. Don't kid yourself, Dana; it *was* your
own damn fault."

On an impulse, she picked up the telephone receiver and made a call to
the Lone Gunmen. When she reached Frohike, she tried to control her
temper, but it was difficult.

"Who is he meeting and where?"

There was a moment of silence, then Frohike answered, sounding
confused, "Sorry, Agent Scully, but I don't know what you mean. The
last time we talked with Mulder, he was getting ready for a flight
with you to Texas."

"You wouldn't be covering up for him, now, would you, Frohike?" The
menace in her voice was not hidden very well, and Frohike forgot to be
offended at the accusation, he was so surprised at this new side to
his favorite female FBI agent.

"No way. Cover-up is what got this country in trouble."

She had to smile at that. "OK. I'll have to try and figure out
what's going on myself. If you hear from him, let me know."

"Sure thing, Agent Scully. Just tell us if we can give you a hand."
He managed to put a leer into that statement, she noticed, as she
disconnected.

Her thoughts were interrupted when someone knocked at her door. She
picked her gun up from the nightstand and called, "Who's there?"

"Agent Mulder sent me up here to give you a message."

"How do I know that's true?"

"Beats the hell out of me, but he said it was urgent that you don't
miss the plane. I have your ticket. He said to tell you he
apologizes."

She hesitated, then unlocked the door, moving to stand back in the
room, to one side. "OK, come in, but let me see your empty hands
first."

The door slowly opened, and two hands and then arms were thrust
through the opening. The rest of the body soon followed, and Scully
saw a dark-haired man with a slim body, about 5'10" and serious brown
eyes.

The man smiled, and said, "See? I won't hurt you. Agent Mulder said
you would be overly cautious."

Scully said, "Not as much as I'm going to be. Turn, face the wall,
and spread 'em."

He shook his head, as if to marvel at her paranoia. "You really don't
have much time; the plane leaves in fifteen minutes, and we can just
make it if we hurry. We're less than ten minutes away from the
airport. Here's the schedule."

He reached into his suit coat inner pocket carefully and handed her a
folded sheet of paper. As she took it with her free hand, he suddenly
followed through with a backhand against Scully's face. It knocked
her across the bed and her gun flew out into the room somewhere.

He was pulling a gun from his coat and taking aim, when Scully shot
him with her extra gun she kept in an ankle holster. She had taken
Mulder's example and begun carrying the spare weapon when wearing pant
suits after the Russian assassin had disarmed her. It seemed like a
good idea at the time, and now she was grateful she had followed her
inclination.

Her shot was through the heart, and it was evident that the man was
dead before he hit the floor. Scully checked his pulse anyway, after
kicking his gun aside. She found herself looking over at the gun
thoughtfully; it looked familiar. Then it came to her - it looked
like Mulder's spare gun; his Baretta.

She called the front desk and told them to get security and the local
police, as there had been a shooting in room 402. She looked up the
FBI number, got through to the Special Agent in Charge, JD Parker, and
filled her in on the events to date. Parker agreed to come over to
the motel herself and provide Scully with any help she needed
coordinating with the local authorities.

Having started all the wheels in motion, she was prepared to wait, but
security arrived at that point. She showed her identification and
explained that her partner may be in danger as well, and was able to
get them to open the door to his room.

She found his luggage sitting in the room, unopened, and nothing
looked out of place. The only odd thing was his empty ankle holster
lying on the table in the room. The gun was nowhere to be found in
the room, but she had a good idea where it was. The problem seemed to
be how the shooter had gotten Mulder's weapon and why he was trying to
use it on her?

She returned to her room and sat in the corner out of the way as the
San Antonio police arrived, and, shortly thereafter, two detectives
who were assigned the case. One was big like a wrestler, and the
other was average and balding. The hulk came over to her after
conversing with a police officer and introduced himself.

"Bill Gutierrez. I understand we're looking at justifiable homicide
here." His blue eyes bored disturbingly into hers, and she saw
suspicion, surprisingly mixed with some amusement.

She nodded, and handed her ID over so he could inspect it. She went
over the events with him, beginning with Mulder's call about the
unexpected meeting, but left out all the personal details.

"You say he told you he was going to a meeting at...," he looked at
his wristwatch, "probably 3:30 in the morning, and that seemed normal
to you? But when you saw him leave from your window, he was with two
men you've never seen before, and you began to be concerned?"

"Yes. The empty holster in his room and the absence of his weapon
indicated something was wrong. Then this..." she waved a hand in the
general direction of the crime scene.

"I believe that the gun used against me may be my partner's missing
weapon; it was probably stolen from him this evening."

"Is your partner in the habit of going off to meetings at that hour of
the morning?"

Scully had to smile. "If you knew Mulder, nothing he did would sound
strange. No, the time of the meeting wouldn't have worried me overly
much. It's the rest of the it that made me believe he is in danger."

Gutierrez introduced her to his partner, Joe Banks, who commented, "So
the fibbies are going to take over this investigation?" He sounded
resentful.

Scully hedged. "I don't know about 'take over,' but it seems that an
FBI agent is missing and presumably in danger. We're certainly going
to want direct involvement with that. And this attempt on my life
appears to be a part of whatever is going on."

After some more persuading, she finally was able to get Gutierrez and
Banks to coordinate with Bexar County law enforcement to get everyone
out looking for the car in which Mulder was apparently abducted. She
also asked that they contact other county and state agencies within
four hundred miles to watch for the vehicle. Once the various
officers heard it was a fellow officer in trouble, they were more than
willing to help out.

She reached AD Skinner on the phone, waking him up to tell him that
she had practically every cop in the State of Texas looking for
Mulder. He was speechless at first, then wanted details.

She quickly filled him in, impatient to get out searching for Mulder
herself.

Skinner was immediately concerned for his most troublesome agent, and
asked that she contact the local Bureau for assistance in the hunt.
"Ask for JD Parker; she's the Special Agent in Charge. And Scully;
find him before...anything happens to him."

"Yes, sir. I hope I can. And I've already talked with SAIC Parker;
she'll be here shortly."

"Good luck, Scully."

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

They had been driving for half an hour when they took an exit for
Boerne, a small town west/northwest of San Antonio off Highway 10. A
small used-car lot seemed to be their destination, and Mulder found
himself being switched from the car to a four-wheel drive vehicle with
extra heavy-duty shocks for rough terrain. Once he was seated in the
back, the goon held a weapon against his head while his boss gave
Mulder an injection.

"Just so you'll sleep during the trip and we won't need to watch you
every minute."

Fighting the sleepiness, Mulder said, "What about Samantha?"

"I suppose I had better clear some things up for you. The last I
heard about your sister was two years ago, when she was a practicing
psychologist in a small Canadian town. She remembers nothing of her
childhood or origins. I lied, however, about your partner. She's
dead by now, killed with the gun we took from your ankle holster.
'Nighty 'nite."

Mulder threw himself with a scream of rage at the now blurry figure,
intending to kill him with his bare hands, but his head came into
forceful contact with some very hard surface, and the world suddenly
exploded into light and pain. Then he felt nothing.

When he awakened, the agony in his head prevented him from moving or
opening his eyes at first. He lay on some hard, bumpy surface, and it
was very hot and bright on the other side of his closed eyelids. A
sudden tickling on his hand caused him to turn his head and crack his
eyes open the least amount possible.

There was something on his hand...it was moving? Shit! He sat up and
shook his hand frantically, dislodging a large black scorpion,
knocking it to the ground next to him. Forgetting his splitting
headache, he rolled away from the creature and got to his feet. Which
he now noticed were bare. As a matter of fact, his whole body was
bare.

Keeping a wary eye on the scorpion, which was headed away from him
with its tail curled high up over its body, he shaded his eyes with
his hand and tried to take stock of his situation.

That's when the memory of his captor telling him about killing Scully
hit him full-on. "No!" he half-whispered in denial. He staggered to
his knees then, and let all of his grief and rage out in a sound
between a scream and a roar. With his dry throat, the second wail of
agony was raspier and died quickly as his vocal cords protested the
punishing treatment. Weeping then, he hung his head, trying to hold
himself together. He could completely lose it so easily right now.
She just couldn't be gone. Not Scully. The fist around his heart
tightened convulsively with the thought. He gasped. Then he
remembered what he had been told about Samantha, and he clung
desperately to that hope of some future redemption.

After a while he managed to regain his feet once more and listlessly
tried to comprehend his surroundings. OK, he was nude, and he seemed
to be out in the middle of nowhere, in very rough country indeed.
There were cacti, thorny agarita bushes, a few scraggly mesquite
trees, and other nasty looking plants. The ground was a mixture of
rocks, clay and limestone, and a gritty dirt that seemed sharper than
usual.

The sun was beating down on him, and he saw very little shade in the
immediate vicinity. In a daze, he carefully picked his way toward the
north, vaguely craving some kind of shelter from the sun. He couldn't
think beyond that yet; they had told him to accept death in order to
save Scully. But then they had killed Scully anyway. He felt a pain
across the area of his heart and hugged his arms protectively around
his chest. He drew a ragged breath, trying not to think about what
they had done to her, knowing how fragile his hold on his sanity had
become.

As he turned, he kicked a shiny object and realized that it was his
own gun. Inspecting it, he saw that it still held the one round. And
then he understood that the bullet was for himself should the despair
take over. He considered using it right there and then. Get the
whole damned thing over with once and for all. Without Scully...did
he even want to continue with the constant battle of getting through
each day, dealing with all the crap without her there by his side to
ease the pain? He gasped as his mind gave him a sudden image of her
lovely face with that gorgeous and rare smile.

He swayed on his feet, gradually bringing the gun up to his face,
looking incuriously down the barrel. His eyes darkened as his trigger
finger tightened, and he moved the barrel to his mouth. But the
memory of his sister flickered there at the fringes of his mind,
tantalizingly showing him flashes of what she might look like as a
grown woman; the possibility that he could be a brother to her again
if he could find her in Canada.

Tears on his face, he slowly lowered the gun and whispered, "I'm sorry
- I miss you, Scully. But I need to see that Sam is all right."

In a broken-looking walk, he began to make his way again in a
northward direction. He hadn't gone more than a few yards, though,
before he impaled his foot on some thorny bush which had been half-
covered by dirt. Hopping on one foot, he yanked a long thorn out of
the fleshy part of his instep, then kept on going. The next obstacle
he encountered was a cactus, and a hundred little needles from the
cactus leaf he brushed against were nestled in the skin of his ankle
and lower leg.

He did the best he could and removed most of the needles, leaving
those which were too small or embedded too deeply. It was getting
hotter and hotter, so he set out once more, this time keeping a very
close eye out for anything that looked remotely threatening. The
ground was burning hot to the touch already, making each step torture.

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

JD Parker turned out to be a 40-year-old brunette, long and lean, with
a no-nonsense attitude. She was attractive, but wore her hair out of
her face in a french twist at the back, and used very little makeup.

"Yep, I remember him. He can have anything he asks for, after saving
those two little girls from that serial killer. That monster was
ready to make chopped liver out of them, when Agent Mulder's profile
hit paydirt. We were able to identify the guy and Mulder led the raid
on his hideaway. I'll never forget the expression on his face when he
found the girls in that crawlspace, hurt and terrified out of their
minds. He went under there alone and handed them up to us. Then the
killer, who had been down there all along, stabbed him in the leg. It
was dark in there with no room to make a stand, but Agent Mulder
somehow got the knife away from him. I still remember shining a light
on them and seeing your partner holding the bloody knife, forcing
himself not to plunge it into the killer's heart. He wanted to, you
could see it. But he didn't."

Scully let her breath out, not realizing she had been holding it.
Mulder had never told her about that case. She had a feeling there
were a lot of similar cases he had never bothered to mention.

A call came in then, with the news that the Buick had been located in
Boerne. She rode with Parker, and a pair of Special Agents followed
them in another car. Jake Bowman was a solidly-built black man whose
eyes shone with intelligence and good humor. His partner, Blake
Sorensen, was tall and dark-haired, a serious expression seemingly
etched onto his face.

Scully was beginning to wish for cooler clothes, since the heat and
humidity were building up as the day progressed. The motel, FBI
offices, and the cars were all air conditioned, but it didn't take
much exposure to the outdoors to feel like you were in a sauna.

The only reason the Buick had been reported was that an alert highway
patrolman had seen it take the off-ramp from the highway, and had
recognized the license number from the FBI bulletin that had just come
over the radio. He had followed the car and observed it turning into
the used car dealership. He kept an eye on the entrance to make sure
it didn't leave again, while he called in its location.

After the FBI group arrived, the car was dusted for fingerprints,
searched, and the dealer and his employees questioned. Scully saw
that there was no indication that Mulder had ever been in the car,
unless the fingerprint identification came back with his prints. She
took the highway patrolman aside and described Mulder to him, asking
if he had seen anyone of that description either on foot or in another
car. Assuming he had been in the Buick, he had to have left the area
somehow, since a search had turned up nothing.

The guy actually scratched his head and scrunched up his face as
though he were giving it some really painful thought. If Scully
hadn't been so frantic about Mulder, she would have found it difficult
to keep from laughing.

"Well, ma'am, ah did see one 'a them four-wheel drive rigs, uh, sports
utilities, head out of here toward I-10 west, but I didn't see anyone
like your partner. The guy drivin' was a big dude, kept his head
down. Guess there coulda been someone in the back seat, but ah don't
rightly know."

"Did you happen to get the make, model, or license number?"

He blushed and had to admit that he hadn't thought the vehicle to be
of any import, so had ignored it. But he did remember that it had
been white.

"No one else left the lot before we got here?"

"Uh, yeah, come to think of it. A red Miata convertible with a young
lady in it come out real fast about five minutes after the rig, but
she turned left."

"Thanks. You've been a big help." Scully flashed him a smile, and
quickly walked over to JD. The young patrolman watched her wistfully,
then got back into his patrol car and turned the air conditioner up to
"high."

"JD; Agent Mulder may have left here in one of those Explorer-type
rigs. It was white. A beefy guy was driving. Could you get that
out over the radio as fast as you can? Time may be running out for
my partner."

JD could see that Scully was getting more tightly-wound by the minute,
and the heat wasn't helping.

"Let's go get into the car and turn on the air conditioning. I'll
make the calls from there."

Scully was glad to comply; she just wasn't used to this kind of heat,
although Washington got its share during the summer. But this was
only mid-June. The temperature read-out on the bank down the block
stated it was 103. She immediately wished she hadn't seen that; it
somehow made it worse knowing.

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

With no water and the sun beating down on his unprotected body, Mulder
figured he must be delirious when he saw a blurry figure about twelve
feet away, with the sun behind it. It had four legs. Squinting, he
finally realized that it was a horse.

A horse out here? He moved carefully toward it, and it didn't move
away from him, as he had expected it to do. It just continued to
stand there and stare at him, its ears alert and twitching.

Mulder didn't know much about horses, although he had ridden them
occasionally at his friend's farm when he was eleven years old. But
he did know they could travel a hell of a lot faster than he could,
and it would get his poor abused feet off the scorching and punishing
ground.

He held his hand out toward the horse and kept a soothing tone in his
voice as he spoke whatever came to mind. And at last he was close
enough to place his hand on the horse's mane. It was a brown horse
with a white blaze on its nose and four white "socks." It appeared to
be in good health, and was full-grown. As a matter of fact, Mulder
noticed that it was quite large.

He was trying to decide how to mount the horse without stirrups or
saddle, when it abruptly backed up a step or two. It seemed to be
nervous all of a sudden.

Mulder looked behind him and immediately saw the problem: A diamond-
back rattlesnake was coiling in the dirt not six feet away. Its
rattles began making their distinctive noise, and its head reared
back. The beady little snake eyes were fixed directly on Mulder.

He froze, which is what he remembered you were supposed to do in such
situations. The snake was supposedly more scared of you than vice
versa. For some reason, he doubted that wisdom. He raised his gun
slowly, knowing he would need a miracle to hit the thing in a vital
spot like the head with only one round in the weapon. When the snake
struck, it moved so quickly that Mulder didn't have time to react, or
to use his gun. Luckily, he was a few inches farther away from the
snake than its length, and its strike fell short, just missing him.

Mulder's adrenalin carried him up onto the horse's back with the aid
of the mane, and the horse immediately turned and took off running.
Mulder frantically dug his knees into the sides of the horse and held
on for dear life. He was surprised to see that he still had the gun
in one hand, tangled up in the mane.

As the horse gradually slowed to a walk and the adrenalin wore off,
Mulder started to drift into unconsciousness. He snapped awake every
now and then, only to drift off again. His thirst was all- consuming
now, and he felt light-headed, removed from reality. The injection he
had received may have contributed to the dehydration problem, he
thought. Then he finally gave in to the oblivion that had been
seducing him for so long; he passed out.

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

Four more hours had passed; Scully's nerves were so tight she could
scream. She knew that Mulder's chances of being alive were lessening
with every minute. She and JD were in Comfort, a small town off the
highway, about an hour west of San Antonio, checking out the third
report of a white sports utility vehicle fitting the broadcast
description, only to find that a crusty old lady who ran the local
barbecue place was using it for deliveries.

Scully's cel phone rang, and it was Bowman. He and Agent Sorensen had
been checking out suspect vehicles, too, and had found one that
probably was what they had been searching for. "The only problem,
Agent Scully, is that it plowed into the side of a concrete culvert
off the highway and exploded. There were people inside, but it's
still too hot to do any investigating."

She began, "Where..." but her voice failed her. She swallowed and
tried again. "Where is the wreck?"

She was given the mile marker on I-10, out toward Ft. Stockton, then
she and Parker returned to the highway. Scully's fingernails bit into
the palms of her hands unnoticed as she wondered if this time Mulder
had run out of luck.

(Continued in Part III)

Part III

Mulder slowly became aware of his surroundings. He was lying on the
hot, rocky soil again, but it seemed to have fewer rocks and was
measurably cooler than before. Still very warm, but cooler.

He opened his eyes cautiously and saw leaves and branches above his
head. He was lying in the shade of some kind of tree. He turned his
head and found himself gazing into huge eyeballs. He gave a startled
yelp, then realized it was the horse, looking curiously at him and
snuffling at his shoulder.

He saw that the sun was getting lower in the sky and wondered how many
days he could last before dying of thirst in this heat. His tongue
felt swollen, his lips cracked, and the thirst never went away. He
still felt ambiguous about trying to survive anyway. Just lie back
until life stopped. Sounded good. If it got too bad, there was
always the bullet in the gun.

His cheerful thoughts were interrupted by a whinny from the horse,
which was standing nearby, looking toward the setting sun.

Mulder leaned up onto his elbows and asked, "What is it, boy?"
realizing that it sounded like a line from "Lassie."

The horse just lowered its head and began grazing at the very sparse
grass and plant life to be found. Mulder's sigh turned into a choked
cough as he realized what lay about fifteen feet from him. It was a
small creek, barely enough water in it to classify as a creek,
actually. But it did have water!!!!

He got to his feet and staggered down to the most beautiful sight he
could have wanted. Falling to his knees, he scooped up a double
handful and poured it down his throat. It tasted wonderful and
horribly brackish at the same time. He supposed he was ingesting e
coli and a million other bad microorganisms, but there was no other
choice. Aware that too much water on his stomach would cause painful
cramps, he held himself back, taking small sips after the first greedy
drink.

Satisfied for the moment, he got to his feet and explored around the
shaded area, noting that it was the *only* shade in the immediate
vicinity. He decided that the trees were probably pecan and some kind
of oak. But the most interesting discovery was the charred area he
found in a flat space between the trees and the creek - apparently the
remains of a campfire.

Someone had camped here, but the ashes were not warm, so he couldn't
tell how long ago it had been used. There were some twigs and a few
unused chunks of branches on the ground nearby, and he figured the
camper hadn't needed all the wood and had left it for next time.

He decided to stay the night near the water source and not try to
wander out in this godforsaken country in the dark. Who knew what
he might encounter - probably rabid armadillos, with his luck.

The horse seemed content to keep him company, so he tried to make
himself comfortable on the ground as the sun disappeared over the
horizon.

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

Scully had reached the wreck after the two bodies had been removed
from the still-smoking ruins of the vehicle. The human remains had
been placed on two gurneys and covered with sheets, pending removal
to the county morgue.

In the failing light, she asked for illumination, so she could take a
look at the bodies. The sheriff's deputy, Wade Becker, spoke up.
"We've just been searching a cave over near the county line for a lost
kid; there's a high-intensity lamp in the trunk. Just a minute."

He soon had the battery-run lamp trained on the first gurney. Scully
forced herself into professional mode, snapped on the latex gloves,
and pulled the sheet back. The odor hit her in a wave, but she had
encountered these conditions before and was prepared for it. The
various law enforcement officers standing too close quickly retreated,
however. Deputy Sheriff Becker gagged, but managed to recover and
keep the light focused on the body.

It didn't take her long to make a preliminary examination, and
concluded that this had been a large male, 6'5" tall, who had what
appeared to be a bullet hole in his head. The crash and the fire had
not killed him. And it wasn't Mulder. She pulled the sheet back over
the body, saying, "I would like to perform the autopsy later, or at
least accompany the county pathologist in their procedure."

SAIC Parker, who had just approached Scully after making some calls
from her car, said, "I don't see why not. I'll make the arrangements.
Do you want to see the other body, now?"

Scully nodded, and they moved to the second gurney, the lamp already
re-positioned and waiting for them.

She didn't want to look at this one; what if it were Mulder? She had
to know, however, and quelled the slight tremor of her fingers as she
pulled the sheet away from the still form.

This body was more badly burned than the other, and the arms were
drawn completely up to the head from the effects of the intense heat
on the muscles. The legs were also drawn upward, making an estimate
of the height more difficult. She finally had to conclude that this
too was a male, and the height was approximately the same as Mulder's.
The cause of death appeared to be from a gunshot, since once again
there was a bullet hole in the head.

Scully finally turned away from the grisly sight and said, "Did any
personal effects survive the fire?"

A plastic evidence bag was brought to her, and she held it up to peer
through the bag at the bits and pieces of burned items. Parker heard
the agent gasp, and she asked, "What is it?"

Scully numbly handed her the bag and Parker finally saw what Scully
had spotted; the remains of what looked like an FBI ID wallet, with
a scrap of paper still attached. It was only a corner, but the two
visible letters of the tail end of a signature read, "...er."

Parker said, "This only means that your partner *may* have been a
passenger in the vehicle at one time; it doesn't mean one of those
bodies has to be him. You said that two men were with him when
they left the motel."

Scully could only nod, unable to speak. Suddenly she turned and
quickly moved back to the second body, which was about to be loaded
into the back of a waiting ambulance. She put a hand on the edge of
the gurney to interrupt its movement and held her other hand out to
Becker for the light again. The mute appeal in her eyes galvanized
him into action, and she once again was looking down on the pitiful
remains.

Steeling herself, she placed her gloved hands on the face of the
victim and pulled the jaw so that the mouth gaped open. Motioning for
more direct light, she peered and poked at a certain tooth, finally
sagging back with an intake of breath that turned into a sigh.

Licking her dry lips, she quavered, "I had to know."

Parker said, "Is it Agent Mulder?"

She was answered with a radiant smile, and a fervent, "No, thank God.
He had stubbornly let a toothache go on for a week until the pain
drove him to the dentist. They had to give him a crown on a lower
left tooth. After all the complaining and stress he went through with
that tooth, I knew exactly which one it was, and this corpse doesn't
have a crown anywhere in the vicinity."

It was full dark by now, so everyone packed up and took off, leaving a
state trooper on duty to guard the yellow-taped accident scene. There
would be a more in-depth investigation of the area in the morning,
with the daylight. Just before getting into the car with SAIC Parker,
Scully paused and looked up at the clear night sky, feeling very alone
and lost against that immense, glittering backdrop. She felt Mulder's
loss the deepest at that moment, not knowing how she would go on
without him, should he not survive.

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

After clearing a small area of most of the rocks and thorny objects
he found, Mulder tried to get comfortable for the night. He found
himself thinking about what kind of creatures were likely to be
crawling, walking and scurrying all over the ground out here in the
dark. To present the smallest target possible, he nervously sat up,
knees near his chin, arms wrapped around his legs. He still felt
exposed, in the truest sense of the word.

When nothing much happened after an eternity, he relaxed slightly and
tried to stop imagining bugs crawling all over his body. He absently
scratched at his ankle where the remnants of the cactus thorns were
embedded. The area had reddened, and the itching was constant.

His gaze found the star-filled heavens above, and he was awed at the
magnificent sight. With no lights anywhere around to obscure its
splendor, the immensity of the universe was breathtaking.

"Oh, Scully, I miss you," he whispered.

His heart aching, he spent the next few hours thinking about how he
had lost so many people he loved. He saw a few shooting stars but
they didn't thrill him as they had when he had seen them on the
vineyard as a boy. He was too engrossed in his memories of Scully's
kiss in the motel corridor to pay heed to anything less than a comet
landing in the creek ten feet away.

Long before dawn, he knew he was in trouble. Big trouble. The water
must have harbored some pretty nasty bugs after all. It began with
mild stomach cramps and nausea, then quickly escalated in severity.
His skin was sweaty and clammy, he was vomiting and had diarrhea.
Because his system was essentially empty, however, this mostly
consisted of dry heaves and unrelenting gut-wrenching stomach cramps.
The term "gastroenteritis" came to mind, but he didn't know if that
was the term for what he was suffering. He dimly realized that this
would kill him fairly soon, whatever it was called, from dehydration.
The morning would bring the heat again, which would quicken the
process.

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

Scully had gone over reports from the Bureau and local law enforcement
during the night, making numerous calls for information. The man who
had tried to kill her at the motel had not been identified; no
fingerprints were on file. The weapon he was going to use on Scully
turned out to have been Mulder's after all. And she just found out
that Mulder's fingerprints had been found in the abandoned Buick.

Skinner called to tell her that an attempt on Cancerman's life had
been made, but he had escaped alive, with most of his feathers intact.
"I've got the distinct impression that something is going on within
the consortium, but haven't been able to dig up the full story yet,"
her supervisor admitted. "It may have something to do with what's
going on down there. I'll get back to you if I find out anything."

After falling asleep during another phone call, she packed it in at
3:15 am and collapsed onto her motel bed to get a few hours of rest.
Her body had other ideas, however, and she lay there wide-eyed until
finally drifting off around 4:00. The phone had to ring fifteen times
before she could wake up enough to reach for the receiver. This was
at 5:20.

Fighting to clear her mind, Scully finally registered the fact that
Agent Bowman was telling her that a teenage hitchhiker had seen a
white sports utility taking an unpaved road out into no-man's land
yesterday. He would pick her up at the motel in a few minutes.

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

As the sun began peeking over the eastern horizon, Mulder painfully
crawled to the creek and rolled down the small embankment to settle
into the water. All three inches of it. He was feverish and tried to
splash water onto his body to help cool down. It didn't seem to help
much.

He knew that he had to find someone, and soon. That meant somehow
getting back onto the horse, if it were still around, that is. As
he lay his head back into the now-muddy water, he heard the hoofs
clopping their way over to him, and he smiled weakly.

"Still here, eh, buddy?" he whispered. Then a violent cramp doubled
him up, pulling an agonized moan from dry and cracked lips. He nearly
screamed a moment later when a soft wet object touched the back of his
neck.

Panting from the pain of the slowly receding cramp, he turned his head
slightly and saw the horse was nuzzling him. He could have sworn he
could see concern in the horse's eyes, and he snickered at himself.
"OK, Mulder, you've gone over the edge for sure," he muttered.

Making a desperate effort, he grabbed the mane and used it to pull
himself to his feet. He tugged forward, and the horse obediently
walked into the creek and stood patiently. Using all the strength he
could muster, Mulder got onto the low creek bank and tried to throw
himself onto the horse's back. The effort turned out to be more of a
leaning, sliding, and pulling the mane affair, but it worked, and he
was back on board.

Now totally exhausted, he could only lay against the neck of his means
of transportation, wrap his hands in the mane, and nudge the horse's
sides with his heels, rasping, "Go!"

His mount swung its head around and seemed to study him for a long
moment. Mulder nearly wept with relief when the horse apparently
decided to go along with this new interruption of his equine routine,
and began jogging along in a northwesterly direction.

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

Scully had somehow talked Deputy Sheriff Wade Becker into letting her
take his car while he continued in his efforts to shake a helicopter
loose from the tight-fisted, budget quoting, authorities in the
Midland-Odessa area. He might have regretted loaning the sheriff
department's car out if he could have seen Scully keeping the
speedometer hovering at 95, bubble lights flashing on the roof,
scaring everyone inside and outside the vehicle. Agent Bowman kept
his mouth shut after one look at Scully's face. He had offered to
ride with her when Parker got caught up in another emergency and was
delayed for at least several hours.

The hitchhiker, a tough little teenaged girl, had told Scully that she
thought the car was slowing down to give her a ride, when it suddenly
swerved off the road and took an unpaved trail out into the scrubby,
flat, dry landscape. When it was making the turn, she had gotten a
good look at its occupants. Her description matched the two men
Scully had seen with Mulder when he left the motel.

They were heading up the farm road toward the area described by the
hitchhiker. Scully didn't even see why a road had been placed out
here in the middle of nowhere. They hadn't seen anything coming or
going but a roadrunner in the past 45 miles.

At last they reached the two picnic tables with a metal cover on a
pole which afforded some meager shade if anyone should want to eat
lunch there. This qualified as an official Texas wayside, or rest
stop. Sure enough, the unpaved turnoff was visible, barely, about
a quarter of a mile farther, on the left side of the road.

"Let's call in and see if anything new is going on," Bowman suggested.

Scully turned to him and said, "You don't have to do this, Agent
Bowman. You can wait here for them to catch up, but I'm going out
there. My partner may have been without water, exposed to the sun
all day yesterday and now well into another day."

"We don't even know if he's anywhere in this area," Bowman mildly
protested.

"No, we don't, but I just feel that he is, and time is running out for
him. His fingerprints were found in that Buick in the car lot, by the
way, so he probably was a passenger in the sports utility. I'm going
to drive out there and see what I can find. Are you with me?"

He said, "Of course. Let's go."

While she turned and headed overland on the track that was just
visible, Bowman checked with the Sheriff's office. Becker told him
that a helicopter piloted by an Ector County deputy sheriff named Fred
Teague had just taken off, and would pick up two Emergency Medical
Technicians on his way. He would fly over the general area in which
Mulder could have been dropped, given the time involved and the
direction in which the vehicle had been headed when seen by the
hitchhiker.

Fifteen minutes went by in silence, both agents' attention on trying
to spot anyone at all in this empty landscape. Scully felt a monster
of a headache building up behind her forehead, and the constant
bouncing on the rutted ground wasn't helping at all.

She knew that she was beating the shit out of Becker's county car on
this rough terrain. She only hoped they didn't break an axle and have
to call for help themselves.

"Despite what this place looks like, Agent Scully, there are small
creeks running through here. Granted, they are few and far between,
but if your partner's out here he may have found water. And fifty
miles north, there's even a small lake."

Scully glanced over at him for a second and asked, "Sounds like you
know the area."

"Yeah. I grew up in this part of west Texas. We moved around a lot,
wherever the jobs were so my dad could work."

"You don't seem to have the accent."

He grinned and said, "No, I made an effort to lose it during my high
school years. I decided that it made me sound like an ignorant
country hick. Now, in hindsight, I kind of wish I had kept the
accent. It's not so bad." Another flash of his grin.

They hit a particularly bad eroded area and Bowman's head connected
with the ceiling. "Ow! That smarted."

"Sorry. I'll slow up a little - there's no track to follow anymore
and it's getting rougher."

It was past ten o'clock and the temperature was over 100 already when
Scully stopped at the edge of a dropoff. It was too steep to drive
down, and there was no other way across that she could see nearby.

Bowman had thought to bring some bottled water, which they shared
thirstily. They got the helicopter pilot, Fred Teague, on the
radio to see what was happening from that end.

"Nothing yet, and I've covered about a third of the grid. I saw you
stopped at a dry wash just now; I'm northwest of your position. To
get around the obstacle, you need to make a left turn and go around
the high point."

Scully had put her sunglasses on earlier, and peered up in the
direction Teague had indicated. She finally spied the dot that
was the helicopter and pointed it out to Bowman.

Bowman offered to drive for awhile, and Scully agreed, primarily
because she thought that it would make it easier for her to spot
Mulder if she weren't worried about driving, too.

"How's the gas?" she asked.

Bowman eyed the gauge and said, "We're still above the half-way mark.
Not much longer and we'll have to turn back or we won't make it out of
here."

They had worked their way around to driveable ground and had continued
on their original course for fifteen minutes, when the radio came to
life.

"We've got something out here, Agent Scully."

Breathlessly, she asked, "What do you see?"

"Well, let me put it this way. Does a naked guy on horseback sound
like your partner to you?"

Scully blinked, then a big smile lit up her face. "That sounds
exactly like my partner. Can you land near him? How do I reach
his location?" She was tense with the need to get to him as soon
as possible.

"Keep on your current course; it's just about five miles further on.
You'll see us landing and you can head for that spot."

"Thank you. Please keep us informed as to his condition."

Her request was acknowledged and all she could do now was wait.
She mentally urged Bowman to speed up, when she knew that would
be impossible with this vehicle, given the condition of the
surface over which it was bouncing.

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

Mulder was unconscious while on his journey by horseback, except when
the vicious cramps ripped through his body. At those times he nearly
fell off the horse, moaning and sometimes screaming from the agony.
His skin was burning and his thirst was beyond bearable. He was
studying the gun more and more frequently, which was still clutched in
his hand so firmly that the muscles were cramping. He kept wondering
what the point of continuing in this hell might be without Scully.

He was painstakingly untangling the gun from the long strands of the
mane with a determination to end the agony when a more violent spasm
than usual ripped through his body and he passed out, the gun sliding
through his fingers to the ground. He didn't hear the helicopter as
it descended toward him.

The horse shied from the escalating noise, nearly losing his rider.
Seeing this, the pilot landed about 90 yards away and cut the rotor
as soon as they were stable on the ground. The EMTs were out of the
chopper seconds later, carrying a stretcher and medical equipment.

As they neared the horse, it continued to be skittish and backed away
from the men. They weren't sure if the helicopter had spooked it
badly, or if the new arrivals were viewed as a threat to its rider.
The problem was solved when Mulder, his hold loosened during the last
motions of the animal, slid from its back and landed with a thump on
the ground, not two feet from his gun.

The techs quickly reached his side, with the horse keeping about a
fifteen-foot distance from the activity. A quick check revealed the
immediate need for an IV to get fluids into his body, which they set
about accomplishing. Then they carefully laid him on the stretcher
and checked more thoroughly. They noted a bruise in his side, an
infection at his ankle from cactus thorns, various punctures and
bruises on the soles of his feet, and a sunburn. When a severe cramp
bent him double, they figured he had been drinking some bad water, and
added the appropriate doses to his IV mixture.

Bowman and Scully had arrived by this time, and she was out of the car
and running before it had come to a complete stop near the waiting
helicopter. She was clutching the half-empty water bottle, with some
semi-coherent idea of giving some to Mulder.

When she arrived next to the small group, the techs had covered Mulder
with a thin blanket, piled their medical gear onto the stretcher with
Mulder, and were getting ready to carry their prize back to the
helicopter. One of the techs had retrieved Mulder's gun and it lay on
the stretcher with everything else.

Scully grabbed the IV equipment to free the EMT's hands, and held it
up as she walked along next to Mulder. She wanted so badly to touch
him, reassure herself that he would be all right. Her eyes hungrily
searched his face, willing him to wake up and smile at her.

She questioned the EMTs and they filled her in on Mulder's condition.
The gastroenteritis (Mulder's diagnosis of his condition was confirmed,
he would have been pleased to learn) was the most worrisome problem.
He had lost a lot of his bodily fluids and the severe cramps had
further weakened him. They were combatting the nasty bugs in his
system and were pushing fluids into him as fast as he could take it.
The sunburn, battered feet, and the infection on his lower leg could
wait until he reached the hospital in Odessa.

(Continued in Part IV-a)

Part IV-a

Scully wouldn't leave Mulder, so one of the EMTs rode back with Agent
Bowman in the county car, while she took his place in the helicopter.
The trip was uneventful, with no change in Mulder's condition. He was
deeply unconscious, but his color had improved a slight bit, she
thought.

When they landed at the small airport, an ambulance approached the
helipad, stopped, and the rear doors were opened. Scully helped
off-load the stretcher onto a gurney, then climbed into the ambulance
with Mulder. On the ride to the hospital, she used her cel phone to
contact Skinner, who seemed to be waiting for her call.

After she brought him up to date, he said, "It seems that the attack
on our 'friend' Cancerman was an uprising of a faction of the
consortium. That uprising has been brutally smashed, I've discovered.
But not before several members were killed, and the attempts were made
on you and Agent Mulder." He paused. "When he's well enough to get
checked out of the hospital, I want you two to take a few days, relax
down there, before you get involved in that serial killing case. The
cycle of past killings in that case indicates that the next murder
won't be for over three weeks yet. Mulder needs to get physically and
mentally recovered before jumping into one of those godawful profiles
he does."

Scully agreed, thanked him, and said that she would let him know if
there were any changes in Mulder's condition, and disconnected. She
closed her eyes wearily and suspended all feeling and thought for just
a moment. Then she took a deep breath and went back to Mulder's room.

When she neared the door, she heard an odd sound and cautiously peered
around the door frame. Mulder was awake and alone in the room, and
was making a keening sort of sound with his arms wrapped around his
chest, lying on his side, rocking back and forth. His IV line was
still attached, although it was stretched taut by his position, and
threatened to pull out of the back of his hand at any moment.

Scully thought that he must be in terrible pain from the look of
things. She quickly moved into the room and touched his shoulder
lightly as she said, "Mulder." But he was obviously deep within
himself, not reacting to outside stimuli. There was no reaction at
all.

She was getting worried and wondered if they were dealing with
psychological damage as well as physical.

When Scully pushed the call button, several nurses showed up, along
with Mulder's doctor, James Stringer. They had been talking at the
far end of the hallway, and were able to respond immediately.

The doctor was by Mulder's side within a minute, checking him over,
and snapping out orders. He gently restrained his arm so the nurse
could repair the damage to the tape on his hand. The needle had not
dislodged itself, so they left it alone.

Scully was standing out of the way, by the door, while listening and
watching like a hawk to make sure Mulder didn't suffer any more than
absolutely necessary.

"You'll be all right, Mr. Mulder," she heard the doctor's soothing
voice. "All your injuries are healing nicely, and your intestinal
problems will be completely resolved with another day of rest and
medication. The fluid intake needs to be monitored, but the effects
of the dehydration you experienced won't have any long-term affects.
Now try and get some rest. The ointment should have deadened the
sunburn pain, and we've put a mild sedative into the IV so you can
sleep through the night, hopefully."

He gave Mulder a light touch on his shoulder, mindful of the sunburn,
and turned toward Scully. They left the room together, and Scully
asked, "What was that all about? He appeared to be in agony."

The tall red-headed doctor looked puzzled. "I don't know, but I think
it was mental more than physical. His eyes weren't totally focused on
me; it was like he was looking at some inner reality and couldn't be
bothered with distractions." He shrugged. "I know how that sounds,
but I've always been interested just as much in the workings of the
mind as that of the body. In any event, he seems to be suffering
from some mental anguish. Maybe you can help him open up."

He left her then, and she returned thoughtfully to Mulder's room.
His eyes were closed now, so she was careful to be very quiet as
she sat in a chair near his bed. She must have made some small
noise, however, since his eyes suddenly snapped open.

When he turned his head slowly toward her, she realized that he
was now aware of her; she could see his eyes light up, then go
dull again. "Ghosts," he whispered.

Scully got to her feet and leaned over him, putting her hand gently
over his. "Mulder. Thank God we found you in time. You're going to
be all right." She smiled and kissed his temple where the warm
pulsing of his blood reassured her that he was really alive and
not an illusion.

"Scully," he urgently rasped. He roughly grabbed her hand and
squeezed while tears welled and rolled down his stubbled and reddened
cheeks. "It's really you." Wonderment and joy washed over his
features then, and he transferred his grip to her arm and pulled her
closer, nuzzling her hair, her neck, under her chin...she was getting
a very warm feeling, and it certainly wasn't an appropriate one here
and now. She pulled back slightly to gaze into his eyes.

"They told me they had killed you." His voice cracked on the words,
and she saw what damage that belief had caused.

So she pulled the chair closer to the bed and sat down to begin
telling him what had happened. When she started with his phone call
to her in the motel, he flushed and told her about his captors and
what they had threatened to do to get his cooperation. Nodding her
understanding, she went through the whole thing, finishing up with
seeing him doubled up on the hospital bed, making that sound.

He closed his eyes and said, "I woke up remembering that you were
dead, and then...I don't remember anything else until I saw you
here, next to me."

A minute or two went by and Scully realized that he had fallen asleep.
The drugs had finally pulled him under and now he could get some
needed rest. Sounded good. She decided to find a local motel and
catch a few hours herself.

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

The Siesta Motel was decidedly a step down in quality from La Casa
Verde in San Antonio. After killing a good-sized cockroach in the
bathroom and another on the wall by the bed, Scully was having
flashbacks to Doctor Bambi. She shuddered, more from memories of
Bambi than the cockroaches.

SAIC Parker had sent all their luggage from San Antonio, so she at
least possessed a toothbrush and some clean clothes. She took a
shower, pulled on some pajamas, and crawled into bed, after first
checking it over thoroughly for unwanted visitors. Finally, her
exhaustion allowed her to fall asleep around 6:00 pm without giving a
thought toward eating dinner. The ringing telephone penetrated her
dream about a house floating on water while she hung by her fingertips
from the roof.

"Scully."

"Agent Scully? Do you think you could come down here to the hospital?"

She snapped fully awake, and demanded, "What's wrong?!"

"Well, your partner woke up a few minutes ago, demanding to know where
you were, and did he dream that you were alive or were you dead after
all. Then he ripped out the IV needle and tried to get up and leave.
The on-duty doctor, Lucy Myers, got some more sedative into him with a
syringe and he's calmer now, but still fighting everyone."

Scully sighed and said, "Yeah, I'll be there as soon as I can get
dressed. Try to reassure him that I'm alive and on my way. Tell
him I'm pissed-off, and he'll believe you."

She disconnected, threw on a pair of jeans and tee shirt, thinking,
"To hell with looking professional at 1:00 AM in this out-of-the-way
place." She fluffed her hair, noting that it lacked its usual
perfection, but was too anxious to reach her partner to care.

When she walked into his room, Mulder was breathing fast and looked
scared out of his mind. A male nurse - a BIG male nurse - was
standing by his bedside with a no-nonsense look and his arms folded
across his muscular chest.

"He'll be all right now, thanks," she said to the nurse. He looked
doubtful, but left the room. Mulder's eyes had locked on to Scully
and all the tension in his body ebbed visibly. With a shaky sigh,
he said, "I thought I had only dreamed that you were alive, Scully.
Sorry to cause such a ruckus."

"Ruckus?" she smiled as she approached the bed. "I think you've been
here too long, Mulder. Next thing I know you'll have a Texas accent."

"I can't even understand them half the time, much less try to sound
like them," he answered. But his attention was completely on Scully,
his gaze traveling from her sexy tousled hair, over her beautiful
face, stopping at her luscious mouth...

Scully's breath caught in her throat when she saw the way his gaze was
devouring her. She leaned down and softly touched her lips to his,
then drew back when his hand reached up to pull her head down for a
more thorough kiss.

At his disappointed look, she whispered, "This is a public place,
Mulder, and we don't need a scandal. Besides, we can 'discuss'
this later at the motel."

The rush of desire she saw on his face quickly changed to pain, and he
said, "Uh, Scully, there's a little problem..."

The nurse passing by in the hallway just then heard a female voice
loudly say, "You got sunburned on your WHAT?!!"

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

The next morning, Scully performed the autopsies on the men from the
freeway wreck, while Mulder made his statement to the local
authorities from his hospital bed. The results of the autopsies
confirmed her initial suspicion that they had both died from gunshot
wounds to the head. The wreck and fire had occurred post-mortem. She
sent forensic evidence to the Bureau's lab in Washington D.C. with the
blessing of the local authorities.

When she returned to the hospital around lunchtime, Mulder was sitting
up and demanding solid food rather than the liquid diet he was eyeing
distastefully on the tray across his lap. Scully knew it was time to
break him loose from the hospital now that he was feeling better.
From past experience, she knew he could be a real pain in the butt to
the staff. She found his doctor and had a long discussion before
breaking the news to Mulder that he could be released if he followed
her instructions and took it easy for the next several days.

His whole face lit up when he realized he could get out of the
hospital. Scully had brought his shaving gear and some clothes
with her, just in case of such an event, and he disappeared into
the bathroom to shower and dress.

Scully went downstairs to get the paperwork done to get him released;
when she returned, he was still in the bathroom. He stuck his head
out of the door when he heard her come into the room, with a
frustrated look on his face.

"Scully, my sunburn is so bad, I had to take a cool shower, and now I
can't bear to have clothes touching my skin; at least not these tight
jeans."

"I'm sorry, Mulder, but I didn't think about that. Let me get
something to soothe your skin and deaden the pain."

A few minutes later, she returned to the room with a tube of ointment.
"Do you want me to smear it on you, or get a nurse?"

Mulder looked interested in the notion of Scully rubbing his whole
body with a cream, but remembered where they were, and decided to
save the experience for later.

"I can do it myself, except for the places I can't reach," he replied,
holding his hand out from behind the door and taking the tube from
her. Fifteen minutes later, he called out, "OK, I need my back done!"

Scully peered around the doorframe and saw that he was now wearing his
jeans. She sat up on the counter, had him turn around and stand close,
then gently applied the ointment. With his rear nestled up to her
crotch and the motion of her hand over the muscles of his back, she
was getting very turned on.

"All done," she breathed, and waited for him to move away. Instead,
he turned to face her, his nose about two inches from hers, and his
hands resting on the tops of her denim-clad thighs.

"Thanks," he said, and then grinned, knowing perfectly well how this
was affecting her.

"Mulder...I thought we were going to talk about this first." Her
voice rose on the last few words to end in a squeak.

"What's to talk about?" he quietly asked as his eyes burned into hers
with an intensity that frightened her. "After you let me see how you
felt, everything was clear. And then the world fell in on me when I
thought I had lost you." His eyes darkened and he placed the palm of
his hand against her cheek. "I won't lose you again, Dana."

Scully knew how single-minded and focused he could be when committed
to something, and now he had committed to her. She was torn between
wanting to run screaming away from him and back to the way things used
to be, and tearing his clothes off to have her way with him.

She settled on the middle road and said, "There's a flight in forty
minutes to San Antonio. Why don't we get out of here? I have the
luggage downstairs in the rental, ready to go."

He backed off with a nod, still holding her gaze with his.

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

The flight back to San Antonio was uneventful, except for the palpable
tension between Mulder and his partner. They were exceptionally
courteous to each other until Scully vowed she would slap him if he
said "Are you sure you don't want the aisle seat?" or "Can I get some
water or juice for you?" one more time. She suspected strongly that
all he really wanted to do was to throw her down in the aisle and make
mad, passionate love to her.

Mulder was thinking, "God, all I want to do is tear her clothes off
and make love to her all the way to San Antonio. How can she stand
being this close and not getting closer?"

Even the pain of his sunburn wasn't enough to dampen his arousal. He
realized that, realistically, he shouldn't act on his inclinations
until he healed a little more, but that didn't stop him from wanting
her to the exclusion of all else.

They finally landed and they wasted no time in picking up another
rental and returning to La Casa Verde. They took rooms on the
opposite side of the motel from where they had stayed before,
and Mulder made sure they were adjoining.

After receiving their keys at the desk, Scully announced, "I'm
famished, Mulder. I missed dinner last night, had a bagel for
breakfast, and then missed lunch. Let's have our luggage sent
up and just go into the dining room over there."

Mulder's digestive system was still sore from the severe cramping it
had undergone, but found to his surprise that he was hungry.

"I have a better idea," he said. "I have got to get out of these
clothes and get more ointment on the burn. Why don't we go up and
order room service while I do that? Would you mind eating in the
room?"

"That sounds fine. Just so we eat something soon."

(Continued in Part IV-b)

Part IV-b (THIS PART RATED NC-17 FOR SEXUAL DESCRIPTIONS)

By the time they got settled in their rooms and Mulder had changed
to his soft, much-laundered old sweats, the meals they had ordered
were delivered. Mulder joined Scully in her room where the food
was set out on the table near the window.

They ate in comfortable silence, passing salt and extra bread rolls by
virtue of raised eyebrows or glances. Nearly finished, Mulder gave
Scully what he imagined was a smoldering, sexy look, and murmured,
"Could you help me with the ointment after we're done eating?"

He was a little taken aback when she laughed out loud, nearly
choking on a bite of salad. She quickly took a drink of water,
still snickering. At his look of dismay, she finally managed to
say, "Oh, Mulder, I wondered how long it was going to take you to
try something." She wiped her eyes. "It took a little longer than
I had expected."

His injured air was just making her chuckle, so he gave up and grinned
back.

Then Scully ducked her head and stared at her plate, a frown line on
her forehead. When she raised her eyes again to gaze at Mulder, she
was deadly serious.

"What we've had between us, Mulder, for the past several years, I
don't want to lose. Just because we can't control our hormones and
give in to scratching this itch we've developed, everything might be
lost: Our friendship, our partnership. And to be honest, I want more
than sexual gratification. I want a family, a husband, a home. And
you're not ready for that, Mulder."

Surprise, then concern were replaced by anger. Mulder jerked to his
feet and leaned over the small table to grate, "You don't know what
the fuck I want, Scully. And I don't particularly care that you seem
to be deciding it for me." He straightened to his full height and
added, "You began this, and now that we're both wanting it, you're
backing off. It doesn't work that way."

They glared at each other for a long minute before Mulder sat back
down, reached out, and covered her hand with his.

His tone softening, he said, "Things have already changed between us,
Scully. There's a whole new level of our relationship that has
surfaced, and it's not going to just disappear because it isn't
convenient or perfect or part of an overall plan."

Scully's lower lip quivered and Mulder's heart gave a tug. But he
forced himself not to react outwardly; to remain calm and wait for
her response. He was deathly afraid of the next few minutes. If
he couldn't convince her of the rightness of their love with logic
that made sense to Scully, he was lost. Literally.

She sighed, collecting her emotions, and asked, "Do you want...do you
want to have children with me?"

"Yes."

She waited for more, but he kept silent, letting her lead this at her
own pace.

"Would you quit the Bureau and marry me?"

"Without giving it a second thought."

Scully frowned at that. "What about searching for Samantha and making
the bastards pay who killed my sister and your father?"

"If it can only be a choice between you and the rest of it, I pick
you, Dana. I love you."

She closed her eyes, seemingly trying to deal with this development.

"I love you," she whispered. "But I couldn't make you give up
everything you've believed in for me." Her intense blue eyes opened
to his gaze, and she said, "We could work out a new relationship and
still continue with the Bureau for the time being, couldn't we?"

His grin lit up the room. He stood and moved next to her, pulling her
to her feet.

"Together, we can do anything. Didn't you know that by now?"

"Oh, really?" she retorted. "You can explain how that theory fits in
with our failure every month to submit our expense reports on time?"

"I said *can* do anything; the potential is there, but we don't always
live up to it."

Scully moved closer to him and placed her hands on his chest. "What
happens now?"

He murmured into her hair, "What do you want to happen?"

"You sound like a psychologist."

"That's because I *am* a psychologist."

"Well, I'm a doctor, and I say we get some more of that ointment on
your sunburn. You want to be healed so we can embark on this new
level of our relationship, don't you?"

He smiled. "I like it that you're such a romantic, Scully."

Looking impishly up at him, she replied, "Then you'll like this,
Mulder." She stood on tiptoe and kissed his lips, then stepped back.
At least, she tried to step back, but his arms had tightened around
her and he was pulling her against his body.

His husky voice said, "When my sunburn is better, will you let me make
love to you?"

She nodded her head where it lay against his chest, feeling a rush of
warmth in her lower anatomy.

"Good. I'm better." He swept her up into his arms and carried her to
the bed.

After he put her down, he lost no time in slipping out of his
sweatshirt. He hissed when it slid over his back, however, and
Scully didn't miss that.

"Mulder, your sunburn. Doesn't it hurt too much for this?"

He sighed, and lay carefully next to her, propped on an elbow. "I had
hoped that the worst of it would have faded by now." He lay down all
the way, muttering a frustrated "Damn."

Scully sat up partially and looked down at his pouty mouth with
fondness. She leaned over and pressed her lips against his, gently
exploring the delicious contours with her inquisitive tongue.

Mulder's eyes held a gleam as he began doing some exploring of his own
with his hands. By the time Scully broke the kiss, her eyes were
glazed with passion and her breath came quicker.

"Maybe we could put the ointment on you and deaden the skin enough for
this to work."

He smiled and said, "I have a better idea. Lie down."

He lay next to her, propped on one elbow, while his hand unbuttoned
and unzipped her jeans. Then he slipped his hand inside to rest it
on her lower belly. He leaned over to kiss her parted lips, then,
while his tongue began exploring her willing mouth, his hand
slipped lower until his fingers found her warm, moist center.
Scully gasped into his mouth, incredibly aroused.

He began pushing two fingers deep inside her and gently moving them
in and out. His other hand pushed her tee shirt up and found a soft
lace-covered mound and he kneaded gently, brushing his thumb across
the nipple. She was moaning almost continuously now.

Scully finally broke the kiss and gasped, "It's been too long,
Mulder...I'm...I'm almost there."

He smiled as he nuzzled her throat and whispered, "That's the idea."
She felt his erection pushing hard against her thigh.

His mouth claimed hers again, his tongue thrusting in time with his
fingers moving in her vagina. Mulder also began pushing against her
clitoris in an up-and-down motion with his thumb. Scully gave a
shuddering intake of breath, then a quiet scream as her body spasmed.

Arching her back and breaking free of his kiss, she wailed, "Oh...
oh...oh...Mulderrrrrr!!! Her hips bore down on his hand and he felt
the waves of pleasure course through her. His mouth sought and
possessed the nipple of one breast while her orgasm gradually
subsided.

A last shuddering sigh left Scully limp, and she turned her head to
see a lazy grin about five inches away.

"Mmmmm," was all she could manage. After a minute she had recovered
enough to leave the bed over his objections and retrieve the ointment.
When she returned, Mulder noticed the condom she tossed on the bed,
ready to hand, and commented, "Only one?" with a grin. She replied,
"There's more where that came from; two dozen, to be exact." His eyes
went out of focus, images flashing through his brain of the many ways
he could make use of them. "My doctor's kit has everything," she
added. Scully made him remove his sweatpants and lie face down on the
bed, trying not to stare at his impressive erection. He caught her at
it, anyway, and gave her a smug look.

After working the cream into his legs and amusing herself at how it
matted the hair, she worked her way up to his delectable butt. She
gave a lot of attention to massaging that area, and was rewarded with
a moan from time to time.

She soon finished his finely-sculpted back, moved on to the back of
his neck and arms, then told him to turn over.

His impish smile vied with his proudly standing erection for her
attention.

Her hands trembled just the tiniest bit as she began smoothing the
ointment onto the front of his legs and then his arms. Finally, she
pulled her jeans off and straddled his legs to work on his chest and
abdomen. As she rocked back and forth and ran her hands over his
muscles, his hands began mirroring her actions. He massaged her
breasts under her shirt, moving downward until he was caressing her
lower abdomen. They were both to the point of exploding if they
didn't find relief.

He pushed himself up and tugged her panties off her body. Her
tee-shirt and bra quickly followed. He had a sense of urgency about
him, and she could see why. His erection was rock hard, as she
discovered when she reached out and wrapped her small hand around it's
throbbing girth, stroking the shaft with the remains of the cream. He
murmured, "Better not do that, Scully. I need to be inside you or
I'll lose it right here."

Scully reached for the condom and unwrapped it quickly. "Are you sure
about this, Mulder?" she asked as she began rolling it onto his penis.
"Does this hurt?"

He moaned and closed his eyes, then opened them and growled, "What
sunburn?"

Scully smiled and lay on her back as he knelt between her legs. She
guided him to her throbbing entrance, where he paused for a second.
With passion-filled eyes, he looked down at the half-parted lips,
perfect breasts, the loveliness of the body opened to him and the
trusting murmur he heard, "Now, Mulder, please. I love you so much."
He breathed, "I love you," as he slowly pushed into her, assaulted by
the sensations that overwhelmed him.

Scully wrapped her legs around his lower back, pulling him in deeper
as he thrust in quick, sure movements. His hands went under her
smooth bottom and kneaded as he pumped into her.

Her cries of passion mounted in volume as he plunged harder and faster
into her hot, tight, wet body. He pushed her knees up so that he
could move in closer and push farther, and pumping even more rapidly.
She screamed his name as she came again, and he exploded in her at the
same time, unable to hold back a second longer. The orgasm seemed to
go on forever and he was lost in the excruciating sensations and
feelings.

He gently held her body close to his as they gradually returned to
sanity, and nuzzled her throat with his nose. Scully was finding
that he was a real cuddler, and often liked to use his nose to
nuzzle into her hair and neck. She suspected that it reassured him
of her continued presence. She noticed that his hand was lying
possessively on her breast and a leg was thrown over her legs,
almost as though he were afraid she would disappear if he let go.

After a few minutes, he removed the condom and tossed it toward the
waste basket, saying "Yes!" when he heard it go in. He quickly
returned to the nuzzle position with a satisfied sigh.

"What were you saying about waiting to do this?" his muffled voice
asked.

Scully smiled and said, "I've been known to be wrong before, Mulder."

"Never."

Still smiling, she commented, "You made an awfully quick recovery from
your sunburn."

He said, "Well, between you and the ointment, I was able to forget my
name, zip code and what planet I'm on, so forgetting about the sunburn
was no problem."

After a few minutes, he said, "Sorry that was so quick, but I promise
to take it slower next time."

She didn't answer, but turned into his embrace and began kissing him
on his closed eyes, his eyebrows, his nose, his cheeks, his ears, and
finally his lips, concentrating on the full lower part.

"Mmmmmm," he murmured.

Encouraged, she raised herself up enough to kiss his nipples and
chest, returning to his lips from time to time. He moaned low in
his throat. Further encouraged, she worked her way down his
abdomen, where she made an interesting discovery.

Looking up at his seemingly innocent face, she remarked, "You can't
possibly be interested again."

"Wanna bet?" A flurry of movement ensued, and the guy next door had
to turn up the volume on his television to drown out the unmistakable
sounds he could hear coming through the not-so-thick walls. They
lasted through the entire program and into the next one, too. Damn,
they must have die-hard batteries. Give it a rest, he was thinking.

He didn't know they were making up for all the lost years. It
couldn't happen in one night, but they sure could try.

THE END