Ok, this is just the working title b/c I have yet to name this angsty
piece of garbage.  I'm not sure that I want to claim it as mine, let 
alone finish it.  But I will, sooner or later.  It's calling to me.


Disclaimer:  I don't own anyone you recognize.  Everyone else is mine.  

Author's notes:  I started this my senior year in high school, which 
would have been 1997.  It's angsty and not finished, and I'm not sure that
it ever will be.  Which means that I need feedback people.  E-mail me
at wolvie_97@hotmail.com and tell me what you think.  Depending on your
response, I'll either finish or pitch it.  Maybe.  Fickle, ain't I?

Pine Creek, West Virginia
March 13, 1997
3:14 a.m.

	The car sped down the highway, windshield wipers
swishing noisily across the glass, the rain coming down in sheets. 
The man kept glancing in the rearview mirror, praying to a God he
didn't even believe in that he could get away from those evil
creatures.  What they had done was unacceptable even to him. 
Experimenting on people like that was craziness and he could only
hope that he had gotten her out of there in time.  

	Peering over at the passenger seat, he noticed that she had
finally fallen asleep.  Initially she had said that it was too hard to
sleep in his car, especially since she was five months pregnant and
had trouble sleeping anywhere.  Her tiny frame just wasn't ready to
have a baby and they both knew it.  Her only chance for survival
and that of her baby was to get her to a good medical facility but
the Council had vetoed that idea right away.  That was when the
idea of running away had come up.  Neither of them had argued, it
just seemed like the right thing to do.

	'No fifteen year old should have to go through this,' he
thought to himself as he returned his eyes back to the road.  He
caught a slight movement out of the corner of his eye and grinned. 
Sleepily she brushed a stray strand of hair out of her face and sat
up, looking around her.

	"Mel, are we almost there yet?" she asked, sounding
slightly disoriented.

	"Not yet, small fry.  You just hang on there, OK, Sam?"  He
glanced over at her again, his brandy brown eyes meeting her
violet ones.  She smiled back, not one of the fake smiles she had
been so used to giving at the Center, but a real smile, something
Mel hadn't seen in weeks.  They were finally home free and he
began to relax.

	They drove for a while longer in silence until Mel noticed
the headlights in the rearview mirror.  The car had it's brights on
and dread filled his being as he began to realize that the Center
might have caught on to their little plan.  He sped up and so did the
car following them.  It was over, they were caught.  There would
be no escape for them this time and it was useless to think other
wise.  How could he have been so stupid to think that he could do
what so many hadn't been able to?

	She still hadn't noticed the car, or if she had she hadn't said
anything.  Mel decided that if they were going to meet their
untimely end, it wouldn't be without a fight and he sped up.  Sam
glanced quickly at him, worry causing her beautiful features to
cloud.  

	"They found us, didn't they."  It was less a question then a
statement and he could tell that she knew the answer before she
asked the question.  He could only nod his head as an incredible
sadness filled him, replacing all the fear and dread that had moved
there first.  She would never see her baby grow up, never know
what it would be like to be an adult, never know what really
happened to her family, never know who she really was.  Lost in
contemplation, he never noticed the car coming from the other
direction until he heard Sam's scream.  

	The black sedan swung into the direct path of Mel's car and
stopped, blocking the road.  He stopped so suddenly that he would
have sworn that most of his tires had been left on the road.  The
car that had been following them pulled into a similar position
behind them and two Men In Black climbed out of each car.  They
all were brandishing hand guns and when the first man reached the
car, he motioned with the gun for Mel and Sam to get out.

	Mel followed their instructions, hoping against all hope
that they were just going to take them back to the Center.  Sam
hadn't gotten out of the car yet and he prayed that she wouldn't do
anything stupid.  She was the most stubborn person he had ever
met, ever known, 'would ever know,' he thought grimly, as he was
forced to his knees.  Wet gravel cut through his jeans and he hoped
that it would be over soon, for her sake more than his.  He could
never live with himself if he knew that she had suffered.  Soon,
though, his thoughts returned to his own situation as he felt the
bullets rip through his back and then everything went dark.

	Sam heard the gun shots as her friend was murdered no
more than twenty feet away.  She flinched as they rang out,
suddenly afraid for herself, her baby, and where their souls were
going after they met the same fate.  The car door swung open and
one of the men motioned for her to get out.  

	"There is no way in hell that I'm getting out of this car," she
stated simply, crossing her arms across her chest.  

	"However you want it, sweetheart,"  the man snarled as he
raised the weapon and fired four shots into her body.  

	Twenty minutes later, the men drove away from the car,
emotionless as they watched the smoke from the flames rising
higher into the early morning sky.

*******************


FBI Headquarters
March 17, 1997 
8:59 a.m.

	He waited at his desk, the kooshball launcher aimed at the
door, with the trajectory at the perfect angle.  All she had to do was
to be on time.  It was going to be great.  Footsteps sounded out in
the hall.  He tensed up, almost to the point of giddiness.  The
doorknob turned and he pulled back on the launcher.  As if in slow
motion, the door opened and he let it fly.  It hit it's target with a
smack.  A large grin of satisfaction spread across his face.

	"Mulder, I'd like to think that this was an unfortunate
accident and that you didn't really mean to hit me."  He smiled at
her, Cheshire Cat like.  "Because," she continued, "if you did mean
to hit me, then this... means.... war...."  She stared at him with that
intimidating look that said, 'don't fuck with me, I mean business.'

	Worried that she was really mad, he looked at her
quizzically and asked, "Scully, are you threatening me?"  And to
his surprise, she laughed.  For the first time in weeks, she laughed. 
The sound was so sweet and unexpected that he couldn't help but
join her laughter.

	She laughed she continued to her desk against the far wall. 
The new acquisition to the small office had initially made
maneuvering difficult but having a happy Scully was a lot more
important than having more room.  Even today, when they were to
begin their paper work and the day that Scully usually bit
everyone's heads off, she was actually in a pleasant mood.  If he
had known that all it took to make Scully happy was a large piece
of furniture, then he would have gotten it for her years ago. 
Sighing deeply they both dug into the massive stack of papers that
covered both of their work areas, in varying degrees.

	Not more than ten minutes passed before the phone rang. 
Scully made no move to answer it, seemingly engrossed in an
expense report from a few weeks before.  He let the phone ring
again as he noticed her glasses sitting on her nose, thinking to
himself that she looked beautiful when she was deep in thought. 
The phone knocked him out of his reverie as it rang once again.

	Scully watched him out of the corner of her eye, pretending
to be engrossed in her papers.  He was wearing his glasses and she
was finding it hard to keep her thoughts on work.  Ever since the
first day they had met, she had thought that he looked his sexiest
when he was wearing those glasses.  She watched him, her mind
filled with curious thoughts as he listened to caller on the other
end.  After a few short, uninformative (at least to her) replies, he
hung up the phone.  Every sparkle of humor and laughter was gone
from his being as he rose, motioning for her to do the same.

	"Something wrong, Mulder?" She asked as she moved to
her feet, putting her paper work back onto the desk neatly.

	"Skinner wants to see us.  Scully, two people were shot and
then set on fire along with their car in Virginia.  One of them was a
pregnant fifteen year old.  She was shot four times in the stomach
and they believe that she bled to death, or at least would have if
she hadn't been set on fire."  A funny look crossed over his face
and she questioned it with a look of her own.  Not needed to
actually hear the question, which would have amounted to, 'what's
wrong,' he moved toward the door as he answered her unspoken
query.  "Her name was Samantha."

	"Mulder," Scully began, feeling a bit confused, "You can't
possibly believe that fifteen year old girl was your sister!  The age
difference alone is nineteen years."  She placed her small hands on
her equally small hips, she watched him stare at his shoes, scuffing
his toe on the floor.  "What is it about this that's upsetting you?  I
mean, come on,  we've seen things ten times as gruesome and
you've hardly batted an eyelash but as soon as the victim’s name is
Samantha, you fall apart.  Why?  It's not your sister!"

	“I know, it’s just that...I can’t...”  He shut up, not able to
express exactly what he was feeling at that exact moment.  She
didn't understand his search.  Sure, she pretended to but he knew
better.  She didn't realize that he had to find her at all costs. 
Mulder had told himself ever since he had gone to those therapy
sessions that he needed to find her, at least so he could have some
sense of closure.  All of his life, he had been told that it was his
fault, that he could have prevented it, but the little boy inside his
head, the one that was hidden far behind the guilt, told him it
wasn't and that he couldn't have.  That little boy kept telling him
that it wasn't his fault and that she was out there, somewhere, alive.

	His father had believed that, though.  He had given and
Mulder had taken the beatings.  He had taken all of them, telling
himself that is was his fault, that he'd been responsible, that he
should have stopped it.  No matter how hard or awful his father hit
him, no matter how difficult it was to take those beatings, no
matter how many times he landed in the hospital, it was always his
fault.  He always deserved it.  And he was always thinking of
Samantha.

	When his parents had finally divorced, it had become a
little easier to live.  He no longer had to worry about what excuse
his father would come up with next to ridicule him or to beat the
living shit out of him.  But his father's voice was always in the
back of his mind.  He couldn't get away from it, that impossibly
evil voice telling him that it was his fault, she had been his
responsibility, and that her disappearance would always be on his
head.

	Mulder looked at Scully. All of the pain, ALL of the pain of
his life reflected in those eyes, those beautiful pools of hazel.  She
looked at him and realized that the name Samantha brought back
so many memories, most of them bad.  There was also something
else.  She realized that the Samantha that had died in that car, that
had been burned to death, had been someone's daughter and
perhaps someone's sister.  They might never know what had
happened to her, where she had been, why she had died.  It was
important to him that whoever Samantha was, that they find out
what had happened to her, because he might not ever find out what
happened to his Sam.

	It had always been difficult to live without her, to live
knowing that he might never see her alive.  It was difficult but it
was something that Fox Mulder did everyday.  He always thought
about her, always,  but it was getting hard to remember.  He could
only hear her screams now, every other thing she had ever said to
him lost in the soundless memories.  All he really had were
pictures but pictures couldn't comfort him or his endless guilt. 

	"Mulder?"  Scully broke him out of his reverie.
		
	"What?"  He managed to choke out.
	
	"Shouldn't we be heading up to Skinner's office?  He's
probably waiting on us and you know how he gets when he has to
wait very long, especially for you."  She had added that last part
with a grin, radiating from her knowledge that nothing infuriated
the AD more than having to wait on Special Agent Fox Mulder.

	"Yeah, Yeah," he croaked, his voice gruff and tinged with
emotion.  If Scully had heard it, she had not called him on it. 
Scully.  He began to think about her and the time when she had
disappeared as they made their way toward the elevator.  It had
been the worst time of his life.  It was even worse then after Sam
had been taken.  That he could handle.  He and his father had
never been close, he had been hit before she had been around, and
after all, it WAS his fault.  But Scully...he had never imagined that
they'd go that far.  It was terrifying, the lengths that those people,
no those monsters, would go to just to see him lose, to see him
suffer.  She never had really know the dangers that were involved
when she had become his partner and he had never told her,
thinking that because she had been sent by Them that she would be
safe.  But he had been wrong.  And he blamed himself.

	But the amazing thing was, Scully had never blamed him. 
She had never told him it was his fault.  The only thing she had
ever said in regards to that was that it was going to be OK.  The
only blame she laid was on Cancerman and his consortium pals.

	"Mulder, are you sure that you are going to be OK?"  Once
again with the questions and the concern.  She could see that the
'ignore-him-and-his-problems-and- he'll-take-care-of-them-himself'
plan wasn't working.  "Is there something you want to talk to me
about, Mulder?" she asked, knowing full well that he wouldn't say
anything, but would at least know she was concerned.

	"No,no...nothing at all Scully."  He regretted not telling her
everything about his past, about his family life, about Sam but he
could barely to admit everything to himself, let alone to the woman
he loved.  Loved.  It was the first time in a very long time that
emotion had found a place in his heart.  And he, King Chickenshit
himself, hadn't the nerve to tell her.  He had almost lost her once
and was so afraid of losing her again that he would do anything,
even hide his feelings from her, if it meant that she wouldn't leave.

	The ride up to Skinner's office had been silent, the kind of
silence that was mildly oppressive and uncomfortable.  Neither of
them wanted to break it, both lost on their own trains of thought. 
They walked together towards Skinner’s office.  Kimberly, his
secretary, ushered them inside  and they took their seats in front of
the large, mahogany desk.  The AD never looked up as his two
agents got situated, both having silently prepared for the reaming
that he was sure to issue about the time it took for them to get to
his office.  Finally, he looked up.

	“Well, it took you two long enough to get up here.  We
have an interesting case in West Virginia.  Two people were
murdered, both shot and then set on fire, on Highway 431, near
Pine Creek.  The FBI became involved when the pair were
discovered to have matching tattoos that have been associated with
the Pure Of Heart cult in the northern part of the state.  We have
no idea as of now what the connection between the two of them
might be other than the tattoo but we believe that they may have
been trying to leave the cult’s compound.  Suitcases were found in
the trunk of the car.  Another complication in this case is that the
girl was pregnant.  This is a very delicate situation, Agent Mulder.” 
He paused and looked at each of agents in turn and then looked
down at the file laying open across his desk.

	Mulder wondered why out of the two of them, he had been
singled out.  He knew that Skinner had a distaste for him but why
single him out?  This whole case was giving him a sour taste in his
mouth and a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach.  

	Looking up, Skinner continued.  “The victims have been
identified through their dental records.  The first victim is Melvin
Adams, a thirty-five year old writer from Boston and the second
was one Samantha Xavier, a high school student from Shreveport,
New Hampshire.  She disappeared 14 months ago from the foster
home where she was residing.  The local authorities have her listed
as a runaway.  The rest of the information available on them is in
the case file.  You’ll need to get to West Virginia as soon as
possible.”  Skinner stopped talking.

	“Yes sir, right away sir,” Mulder began to get up.

	“Sit down, Agent Mulder.  This case has taken on a
different turn.”

	“Different?  In what way sir?”  He definitely had a bad
feeling about this.  Mulder glanced at Scully.  She gave him a
questioning look, she herself unsure about where this was going.

	“The cult members have failed to cooperate with the local
authorities on several occasions so the Director and I felt that a
different approach needed to be taken concerning this matter.  This
needs to be handled delicately as possible so..’  Mulder cut him
off.

	“You have got to be kidding me!”  He shouted, as he
sprang up from his chair and began pacing around the room.  “It’ll
take forever to set up new backgrounds for us...”

	“We have a background already set up for you.  Everything
is being taken care of,” he said, pointedly looking at Mulder.

	“Sure, sure!  Everything will be fine!”  He continued
pacing, every once in a while running his fingers through his short,
dark hair.  He turned suddenly stopped and looked at his boss. 
“You don’t seriously believe that we’re going to agree to go under
cover..”

	“Not we, Agent Mulder, you."  Mulder stared at his boss,
stunned into silence. “And yes, I do believe that you will go under
cover because it is your job.  Two people are dead, Agent Mulder. 
I would think that discovering why would take precedence over
your phobias concerning undercover work.”

	“What about Scully?”  Mulder asked, standing behind his
partner’s chair.

	“Agent Scully will see to the autopsy’s of the two victims
and will be in charge of the investigation in Pine Creek.”  He again
looked down at the file on his desk and contemplated what else
needed to be said.  “Agent Mulder, you will briefed on you
assignment in three hours.  Agent Scully, you and I need to discuss
your role in this case.”

	“Am I being dismissed, Sir?”  Mulder asked.

	“That’s the general idea that I had hoped I was giving you,
Agent Mulder.”

	‘I can’t fucking believe this!’ he thought to himself as he 
left Skinner’s office alone.  ‘Not only do I have to go under cover,
I also have to go in without the only backup that I trust.  I HATE
this fucking job!’

************



Parking Garage
F.B.I. Building
Washington D.C
March 18, 1997

	Mulder leaned against the car, impatiently tapping his foot
and repeatedly crossing and uncrossing his arms.  Scully was late. 
An odd occurrence, he realized, but she was late just the same and
he was annoyed.  All he wanted was to solve this case and get back
to the important ones.  A pang of guilt wrenched it's way into his
consciousness as he realized what he was just thinking about.  This
Samantha was important to someone and her murder deserved just
as much attention as if it were his own sister's.  He made it his
mission to solve this case and allow the girls family some peace of
mind.  
	The sound of heels clicking on the cement made him look
up.  Scully approached the car in one of her suits.  Mulder looked
down at his attire which consisted of  a pair of ratty blue jeans and
a gray t-shirt about a size too big.  He also had on an alien baseball
cap and a pair of high top Nike sneakers.  Scully smirked at him,
giving him the once over.  "Did you forget to pick up your clothes
at the cleaners or did you just decide to throw the Bureau's dress
code out the window?"
	Not finding her humorous in the least, Mulder glowered at her, hating her
smugness and wishing that he was somewhere else.  "As a matter of fact Scully, I have to
wear these clothes on my assignment.  Wouldn't want anyone to get suspicious and kill
the nicely dressed federal agent, would we?"

****

This is where I ended the misery.  What do you think?  Send all responses to
wolvie_97@hotmail.com.  Thank you kindly.

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