Title: Crossing the Rubicon Author: Pita1013 Feedback: PitaM13@cs.com Rating: PG-13 Classification: XAR Spoilers: Assumes knowledge of the 4th season cancer-arc, Deep Throat, Three of a Kind, Unusual Suspects and Triangle. Any other mentions are easily missed and don't really *spoil* anything. Keywords: MSR Summary: Some choices should never have to be made... Thanks to Joylynn for the absolute BEST beta. Archive anywhere (you don't *have* to tell me, but you still could anyway...) DISCLAIMER: THE DAY THESE CHARACTERS ARE MINE IS THE SAME DAY THE ALIENS LAND AND KILL OFF CHRIS CARTER AND 1013 AND FOX TELEVISION. Author's Note: I'm screwing with the mythology, but I've tried to make sure that this story could still fit with what we think we know about the series, which is more than I can say for CC sometimes. Send me feedback! X~~X~~X~~X~~X~~X~~X~~X~~X~~X~~X~~X~~X~~X~~X~~X~~X~~X~~X~~X~~ Crossing the Rubicon--Part One X-Files Division Office 10:04 a.m. As usual, Mulder was practically bouncing off the walls. He had a case file in his hands and Scully could swear he was drooling on it. She was almost afraid to find out what it was all about, but she built up her resolve and mentally prepared to argue away another cracked-up case. "So, what do you have there, Mulder?" *Please, no mutants.* He grinned at her like a little boy, and she felt her own lips tugging upward. Her resolve melted at the rare but wonderful onslaught of white teeth. *Damn, I can't argue with him when he does that,* she grumbled to herself. "There was a UFO sighting in New Orleans," he told her, totally delighted by this news. Scully sighed. "Mulder, check the date and then find out when Mardi Gras was." He pouted at her. "C'mon Scully, I'd love to go to New Orleans. Wouldn't you?" he added hopefully. "Give me the file." She paged through the admittedly thorough reports. Mulder, as usual, leaned over her shoulder to point out the finer points of Cajun UFOs. His face was inches from hers, to the point where he was practically whispering in her ear. She could feel his breath tickling her, sending chills of pure sensation down her spine and throughout her body. She was suddenly extremely aware of the scent of cologne and Mulder, all mixed together in a heady cocktail of *him*. Then, as Scully basked in the nearness of her partner, all hell broke loose. Three drops of scarlet on the new file, glaring up at her. With a cry she leapt out of the chair, folder fluttering to the ground, forgotten. With her back to Mulder she touched her face below her nose, cringing as she brought it back out to survey the damage. Only to find her fingers were clean. Unblemished. White. The world tilted. In slow motion she turned around to face Mulder. His face had gone as white as the file they had been looking at. His hand crept up to his nose, feeling the life that was ebbing away. Scully could see the crimson streak, and recognized it like a friend that had accidentally called at the wrong house. They stood frozen, eyes locked together, a tableau of horror and fear. Then Mulder bolted out the door, leaving Scully staring in agony at the place he had left. @}--}---- "Mulder?" Scully knocked lightly on the door to the basement restroom. "Mulder, are you in there?" She rattled the doorknob. It was unlocked, but she didn't want to intrude. Finally she just walked in. He was leaning heavily on the porcelain sink, staring at the pink-stained water that was swirling down the drain. The bleeding hadn't stopped. In fact, it had gotten worse. With a cool hand Scully touched his arm. He jumped about ten feet. "Jesus, Scully, I didn't hear you come in." "I gathered that," she said dryly. "Here, let me help you with that," she gestured to his nose. With quick hands she applied a paper towel in the spot that usually stopped the bleeding. It worked like a charm. "Here, lean over the sink," she instructed. With another paper towel she gently rubbed the rest of the stains off his face. He smiled wryly at her. "You probably didn't need to fix me up like this, Scully. It was just a nosebleed." He was putting on a brave face, but Scully didn't buy it for a second. He was terrified. It was too much like her own experiences years earlier. She was terrified too. This was her worst nightmare brought to life, not in herself but in the person that was closest to her in the world, closer even than her own family. And now, inexplicably, he was displaying the devastating signs of something she thought she had left behind. *It's just a nosebleed, Dana. It happens to people for other reasons than tumors and death,* she told herself firmly. "Come on, Mulder, let's get back to work," she finally said, letting him off the hook. His relief was palpable. *If it doesn't happen again, we'll be fine,* Scully decided. @}--}---- It happened the second time in Skinner's office, a week later. The burly ex-marine was in the gleeful throes of chewing them out for a botched expense report when the rant died in his mouth. He cleared his throat. "Agent Mulder..." And then made a motion with his hand under his nose, a small move that Scully recognized well. Mulder's eyes widened as he realized what was happening. He flew from the office, leaving Scully and Skinner alone with only the silence and the questions between them. @}--}---- Scully was out of the office mere minutes after Mulder, but he had already headed for home. She was in her car and driving before she had even realized she was moving. The familiar drive to Alexandria seemed to take hours. She didn't see her partner on the road, and she guessed that he was probably speeding too much. With her heart in her throat she watched the side of the road too. She was glad to see Mulder's car in perfect shape outside the apartment building. She used the spare key to get into his apartment, making as much noise as she could to avoid scaring him or getting shot. "Mulder?" she called. No answer. Really worried now, she wandered toward the bedroom. No Mulder. "Mulder!" she cried, louder. She had a sudden vision of him lying in a pool of his own blood, choking on it as she had done in the past. She tried to keep her breath steady, but her heartrate was skyrocketing out of control. *I'm going to have a heart attack right here in Mulder's living room.* A muffled groan from the bathroom. "Mulder, I'm coming in," she told him through the door. His response was barely audible. "Don't come in, Scully..." "Too bad, I'm coming in anyway," she informed him. The door was, once again, unlocked. The scene before her when she opened the door made her want to cry. Mulder's six-foot frame was curled tightly in front of the toilet, full of blood and vomit. His face was tear- streaked and pale, except where the blood had smeared all over. "Oh, Mulder," Scully whispered. She flushed the fouled toilet with one hand, leaving the other to trail over Mulder's forehead, checking for fever. "Can you stand up for a minute, Mulder?" He nodded and tottered to his feet like a newborn calf. Scully turned him around and gave him a little push to make him sit on the now-closed toilet seat. "Scully, I feel... funny," he mumbled softly. "I know, Mulder, just relax and I'll take care of you." She dabbed at his face to remove the blood as he swayed like a snake-handler. When the last traces of red were gone, she pulled him to his feet, supporting his much-larger body as best she could. They staggered to the bedroom and Scully arranged him on the bed. "Scully..." he hissed. His eyes tried vainly to focus on her face. "My head hurts... where are you?" He half sat up, as if he couldn't see her frightened form hovering a mere two feet away. She mustered a smile. "I'm right here." She grasped his hand to show him she wasn't leaving him. He smiled then himself. "...glad you're here, Scully." She smiled genuinely then, watching him descend into sleep. When he was quiet, she reached for the phone. He was awake instantly. "Don't call the hospital, Scully." "Mulder, you need this checked out!" she protested. He shook his head. "I think it's a bug... the flu or some other stupid little virus. Just let me sleep?" A note of pleading crept into his voice. Reluctantly, Scully nodded. He was asleep again in seconds. Scully didn't leave his side that night, and her hand never left his. @}--}---- True to his prediction, Mulder was feeling better the next morning. "See, aren't you glad you didn't drag me to the hospital?" he asked her over coffee. He was still pale, but the sparkle was back in his eyes, and most importantly the bleeding wasn't coming back. He watched her, almost cautiously, as if he wasn't sure how she'd react to the half-joke. She glared at him. "If it happens again, you're going. I don't care if I have to carry you to the car." *If he thinks I'll sit by and watch him bleed to death next time, he's crazier than they all think.* Then she realized what she had thought. *Next time?* He shook his head. "It's nothing, Scully. Don't worry." "I will too worry!" she snapped. "This is bringing back some pretty bad memories for me, you know. I'd feel a lot better knowing it was something harmless." Mulder reached over and placed his hand over hers. "Don't think I don't remember the hell you went through. But I want you to remember that the situation here is different. I wasn't abducted. I never had an implant. There's simply no way it can be what you're afraid of." Scully gazed down at their locked hands. With a sigh she met Mulder's earnest eyes. "I know that. I really do. But I'm still not going to rest well until I know for sure." With a squeeze he released her hand. "If it happens again I'll go to the hospital." "Promise?" She looked very young all of a sudden, like a child who had realized the world was not as fair as she had once been told. She was waiting for him to get out of the promise by cracking a joke or making some inane comment. She was gearing herself up to argue. A smile played across his lips. "I promise, Scully." @}--}---- Two days later "Come on, lets get lunch," Mulder said as he headed toward the office door. Scully stretched and followed with a yawn. It had been a long morning filled with paperwork, and she was glad to get out. When Mulder stopped dead in his tracks in the hallway, she barreled right into him. "God, Mulder, what the--" Her scolding was cut off as he staggered to one side, bracing himself against a wall. Scully tugged at his shoulder, trying to see his face. Checking for the blood. With a moan he turned enough for her to see the telltale ruby marks. Back against the wall, he slid to the ground. His eyes locked on hers. "Hospital... now!" he commanded. Scully made the call. "They're on their way, Mulder, hang on now," she told him as she tucked the phone away. *Oh, God, there's so much of it!* she thought frantically as she swiped at the fountain that was her partner's nose. "Scully?" he asked on a breath. "I'm here," she grabbed his hand, squeezed it roughly to assure him of her presence. His answering pressure was barely there. Her voice started to shake with pent-up fear. "Mulder, can you hear me?" He nodded slightly. "I... hear... you." Then his eyes rolled back and he heard no more. ***** Crossing the Rubicon--Part Two The hospital was busy and bustling, as most hospitals are in the middle of the afternoon. But Scully heard none of the racket that surrounded her. Her attention was focused entirely on the bed in front of her. Mulder was sleeping now. His face had regained some color and he was breathing steadily. Scully had pulled the chair up at his side and hadn't moved for hours. She had stood vigil as doctors poked and prodded and took blood samples like vampires. She had walked alongside as he was wheeled from one bank of machines to another, as the staff had tried to determine what exactly was going on. Scully herself did her part to help, as she spewed forth Mulder's full medical history for the past few years, much to the astonishment of the doctors, who could barely keep their own patients straight. The consensus at 6:00 p.m. as Mulder slept on, oblivious to the testing, was that no one had a clue what was going on. They were waiting on a few last tests. Scully knew exactly which ones they were waiting for. She had intimate knowledge of their timespan. Ironically, the tests that had come up negative weren't the ones she was worried about. It was tomorrow that held her petrified. The day where she would know if her life could continue on the same track, or if it would spin like a carousel. The nurses figured out at around eight-thirty that Scully wasn't moving from Mulder's side and brought a larger chair with more padding. Every time someone suggested she go home, she just curled up more in the chair and shook her head. He finally woke up a little after midnight. Scully was alerted by a strangled groan. She shook herself out of her light doze and reached over to take his hand. He flinched slightly and thrashed violently. *He's having a nightmare,* Scully realized suddenly. "Mulder?" she said softly, stroking his arm gently. He quieted, tilting his head as if listening. "Wake up, Mulder," she said, and he did immediately. "Hey, Scully, what's goin' on?" he mumbled groggily. "You collapsed, do you remember?" she asked. He frowned. "We were going to lunch... and I don't know what happened after that." "You had another nosebleed, and you passed out," Scully told him, carefully keeping her voice from betraying how scared she really was. He looked at her for the first time. "Do they know...?" She shook her head. "Tomorrow." He looked her over. "Scully, you don't have to spend the night with me. You should get some sleep." "I was sleeping..." she protested weakly. He smiled at her, a tiny but genuine twitch of his lips. "Scully, go home and sleep. I'll be here in the morning." She tried to smile back and failed. *Will you?* "I'll feel better if I stay here," she said instead. "Just humor me, okay?" She couldn't tell him the real reason why she couldn't leave, the feeling that every moment with him might turn out to be one of the last. *What if it's the cancer again?* her mind screamed ruthlessly. *Then what will you do, Dana?* If he saw anything odd about her request, he didn't let on. In fact, he countered it with an even odder one. "If you insist on staying, why don't you crawl up here with me?" he suggested, leering at her with a twitch of his eyebrows. She gave him a Look. The smile faded. "Actually, I'm serious. There's plenty of room, and it's probably a lot more comfortable than that lump of plastic you've been sitting on." She considered for a minute. "Promise you'll let me know if I hurt you?" *Please don't let me hurt you.* She just wanted to feel his warmth, to know he was still breathing and his heart was still beating, knowing that because it was, her's could beat as well. "You won't hurt me." She hesitated, then clambered up onto the hospital bed. With a contented sigh she curled up next to Mulder and laid her head on his shoulder. They were both asleep in seconds. @}--}---- Skinner woke them up the next morning with a loud "Ahem!" Scully turned an impressive shade of pink as she slid off the bed and nestled herself in the much-less-comfortable hospital chair. Mulder turned the same color, but didn't say a word. Their boss, despite the thoughts that were probably sailing through his bald head, didn't say anything about it either. Instead, he pulled up another chair and dug right into business. "You've been approved for medical leave as long as you need it," he told Mulder. "I expect that you'll use as much time as is necessary to combat this illness." Both agents read the unspoken codicil: *this is an order.* "Agent Scully, you have personal leave with the same general stipulations." In other words, *do whatever you feel is necessary to keep Mulder out of trouble while he's sick.* Any other time, Scully would've been annoyed at what seemed like a "baby-sitting" assignment. But with the threat of a nasty situation brewing, she took the order willingly. Skinner stood and headed for the door, then turned back to his agents. "Take care of yourselves," he said and was gone. @}--}---- Scully and Mulder were arguing about haunted houses when the doctor came back. He was followed by a doctor that made Scully's blood run cold. Dr. Zuckerman. Her oncologist. Her thoughts derailed. She barely heard the words that he spoke, even though she had been afraid of this very thing. *nasopharyngeal mass* *inoperable* *almost impossible to treat* *growing at an incredible rate* She noticed Dr. Zuckerman speaking to her and tried to focus on him without success. The doctors exchanged glances. "We'll give you some time to process this," one of them said sympathetically. Scully didn't know which one it was. She couldn't think. She couldn't breathe. She was sure that somewhere along the line, her heart had ceased to beat. She would die here, killed by the news of her partner's real mortality. *God, this isn't really happening!* "Scully." A whisper so quiet she almost didn't hear it. She turned. Mulder was sitting up in the bed, staring blankly at the wall. "Scully, I... How did this happen?" "I don't know, Mulder," she said, voice cracking around his name. "I don't know." Their eyes met across the sterile room. Without a word, Scully crossed to him and took him in her arms, giving comfort that only she could offer, as the survivor. And she vowed not to rest until she had saved him, as he had saved her years ago. @}--}---- Scully finally was able to look at the test results herself, and they were a virtual mirror of her own charts from that darkest of times in her own life. There was one notable difference, and that was the growth rate. The cancer was growing at an incredible rate, certainly. Because of that, Mulder was being kept at the hospital in case of any complications. Which, though good for Mulder, left Scully to investigate by herself. She decided to start with the basic tenet she had come to believe: If the truth had been in her once, it was now in him. With that thought in mind, she started digging through his rather enormous medical file. There was no mention anywhere of a metal chip being removed. After hours of reading, there was *still* nothing. With a cry of frustration she lowered her head to the desk. Something was nagging at her, something that was missing from the copious pile of medical records. But what was it? Suddenly her head flew up. Bermuda! With new zeal she rummaged through the stack of papers. The charts and files from the Bermuda incident weren't there. Scully went over the events in her mind. They had pulled Mulder out of the water and taken him back to the nearest hospital, which was on Bermuda. He was there for less than a day before he was airlifted back to Washington. Where were the charts? Had they ever made it back to the States, or were they piled in a back room in the Caribbean? She had to find out. @}--}---- Forty minutes and three cups of coffee later, Scully had the faxed medical charts in hand. There had been a mix-up and they hadn't been mailed. The originals were heading toward D.C. as fast as the postal service could work. The copies were being pored over by the patient's very-impatient partner. Three sheets in and she had what she was looking for. "Small metal piece removed from base of neck. Assumed to be shrapnel from boating accident. Discarded accordingly," she read with palpable disbelief. *Discarded?!* *Oh my God.* In seconds she was back on the phone, cringing at the long- distance charges she was incurring, but really not caring. "Hello, this is Dr. Scully again...yes, I'll hold." She tapped her pen impatiently as she waited to talk to the doctor. "Dr. Scully? We mailed the charts so you should get them soon--" he started. Scully cut him off. "No, actually I'm calling about something else this time. According to the faxed files, there was a metal implant removed from Agent Mulder's neck. Is there any chance that it wasn't thrown away?" The doctor seemed bewildered. "I actually remember that, surprisingly enough. Funny little piece of metal. As far as I know we discarded it, but I can't say for certain. It was such a strange thing that one of the lab techs might have kept it to study." Scully held her breath. "Can you let me know if you find it? It could save Agent Mulder's life." "Of course, Dr. Scully. I'll get right on it." With a sigh, she hung up. Was this really a gleam of hope? @}--}---- That night, Scully dreamed. She was in the X-Files office, rummaging through the filing cabinet for an ever-elusive file. Mulder was there too, sitting silently at his desk, pondering some great mystery. Without any warning, he stood up and went to her. Gently, he took her by the shoulders and pushed her out of the room. He closed the door, locking her out. In a dream-haze of anger she pounded on the door. "Mulder! Let me in! Mulder!" She heard him from the other side. "It's all over... I have to face this last road alone." It was a shocking mirror of her thoughts of years gone by, and it startled her into tears. "No, Mulder! Let me help you! Please," she sobbed, "Mulder, let me in!" "You can't follow me where I'm going," he answered. His tone was empty, mournful. "It's the end of the line for me." Her fists were bleeding now as she slammed them against the unyielding wood, leaving sticky red streaks behind them. "Mulder, you aren't going to die!" There was no answer. Scully looked down, saw a flood of red-brown blood seeping out from under the door. It became a virtual river of gore, surging over her shoes in a warm gush. Then the final agony: Mulder's plastic name clip, stained and sodden, washed out under the door to rest at her feet. @}--}---- She came awake with a scream and memories of blood. *Jesus,* she thought shakily. *What's _that_ all about?* She knew, though. At least, she had an idea. During the battle with her own cancer, Scully had tended to shut Mulder out, not letting him help her and refusing to acknowledge his concern. *I'm FINE, Mulder!* And now she had a sudden, tearing knowledge of what that had been like for him. She didn't want him to shut her out. Deep down, she knew he would be a lot more forthcoming than she had been, but she still had this deep-seated terror of being on the outside while he wasted away. Hence, the dream. She couldn't stop the shaking. What if the doctors down in Bermuda couldn't find that chip? What if there was nothing she could do? Would she have to watch him die? She buried her head in her hands, trying to stop the flow of images that were buffeting her tormented mind. *No more late night phone conversations* *No more comfort after a nightmare* *No more "Scully, it's me!" during a case* *No more long plane rides with heads resting together* *No more seedy hotel rooms with connecting doors* *No more arguments over crop-circles and aliens* *Oh, God, Mulder!* For the first time in her life, she cried herself to sleep. ********** Crossing the Rubicon--Part Three The next day Scully was back at Mulder's bedside as if she had never left. She spent the time before he woke up in a rapt contemplation of his face, noticeably whiter than it had been only the day before. His eyelashes looked like soot on the marble skin. Then his eyes opened, and the animation came back. "Hey, Scully, g'mornin'." "Try 'good afternoon' instead. You've been asleep since I got here at ten." The wall clock was proudly displaying the time as two-thirty. Mulder glowered at the clock. "That can't be right." Scully hid the apprehension she felt at his fatigue and dove right into her discoveries of the previous day. "There was a chip, just like mine, removed from your neck when you were in the hospital after the Queen Anne incident. Now, I talked to your doctor in Bermuda and he said the chip might still be in the hands of one of the lab technicians, and he'll let me know if he finds it." He looked skeptical, an interesting expression on him because it appeared so rarely. "What are the odds that they'll find it after a year? I guess I'm not holding my breath." Scully frowned. "Don't get pessimistic on me, Mulder." If Mulder gave up, her own faith in hope would plummet. He smiled wanly. "I'm not a pessimist, I'm a realist." "Same difference," Scully informed him. "I've got a lot more questions than just about the location of the chip," she added, steering the subject away from uncomfortable ground. "Like why I have one, when I've never been abducted?" Mulder asked, reading her mind with an almost frightening ease. Scully shoved the thought aside ruthlessly. Instead she nodded, understanding. "Maybe if we know why it was implanted, we can find a replacement. After all, *mine* isn't the original chip. Yours probably could be replaced in the same way." Mulder grunted agreement, even as he was slipping back into sleep. Scully gave his arm a comforting caress and settled back in her chair to watch his slumber and guard him from his nightmares. @}--}---- Two Weeks Later After careful research and a great deal of tantrum-throwing in the privacy of her apartment, Scully was no closer to figuring out why Mulder was cursed with the tiny metal chip. There was no reason for him to have had one. Meanwhile, it was getting harder and harder to smile when she visited her partner at the hospital. She was at the point where she steeled herself outside the door every time she entered the room. It wasn't that she didn't want to see him. Wild horses couldn't remove her from her place at his side if she didn't want to go. But seeing the wasteland before her was almost more than she could bear. All the times she had been at his side at hospitals all over the country and beyond, she knew he'd be coming back to her eventually. This time, he might never leave that hospital bed. He looked, sometimes, like he was already dead. The physical breakdown was hard enough. Scully watched as he shriveled away to an emaciated wreck. His skin was a translucent gray, except the dark bruised patches that stood out under his once-beautiful eyes. Those eyes that once twinkled merrily at her no matter what the occasion were now dull, devoid of the life that had once shone out from them. Scully thought she would kill to see his eyes shine at her again. The worst part by far had nothing to do with his body's betrayal. It was the shift in his personality. Scully hadn't seen him smile for over a week. Once, she had pulled out a Tom Colton impersonation while reflecting on the long-ago Tooms case. He didn't even crack a smile. His frustrated friend was even setting herself up for the worst innuendoes, hoping for some flare of the man she used to know and love. Once again, Scully was at his bedside, watching a sleep that was no longer troubled, thanks to the painkillers that were inundating him. He was in constant agony now. The cancer metastasized only ten days after diagnosis. The prognosis was bad. Scully was more alarmed than she had ever been. That day, when Mulder awoke, he had something on his mind. "Scully?" he croaked. "Yeah, I'm here," she said, grasping his hand to prove it. "Um, I need you to do something for me," he said, strangely hesitant. "Anything, Mulder, of course," Scully assured him. "I need you to pick out a grave marker." He refused to meet her eyes, looking everywhere else but at her stricken face. If would've hurt less if he'd stood up and punched her. The truth of his mortality was presented to her in all it's horrific glory as Mulder made that request. "A grave marker?" She repeated, startled into unconscious mimicry. He nodded, and she knew she had heard him right. "Anything *except* that, I meant," she said, trying to lighten the tension that had crept up unannounced. "Scully, it won't be more than another week." His voice was carefully controlled, but Scully heard the tremor of fear that hid behind it. She also heard acceptance, and that was the worst sound of all. With a cry, Scully tore her hand from his suddenly firm grip. She pistoned out of the chair and strode to the window that was letting in the sun. Bathed in its warmth she found her voice again. "Mulder, you can ask me to do anything and I'll do it. But please, *please*," she begged, her voice cracking, "don't make me do that yet. Please let me have hope..." He regarded her for a moment. "I don't want you to believe that the cavalry is coming over the ridge, Scully. I think it'll hurt less if you accept it now." She bit her lip, eyes casting around the floor. "It's not going to hurt less. Ever... it doesn't matter what I do." He motioned weakly for her to return to her chair. "I take back the request. But when the time comes," he shushed her as she began to protest, "when the time comes I want you to find one for me. It would mean a lot to me." She hesitated. "All right." @}--}---- The call came in just before midnight that same night. Scully was out the door before the phone had even clicked to signal the other party had hung up. A nurse stopped her before she crashed through the door to Mulder's room. "Dr. Scully..." "Let me through," she growled. The nurse weighed her job responsibilities against the threat to her life, and let the panicked woman through. The room contained a lot more machinery than it had mere hours before. The same could be said for Mulder's abused body, packed with a respiration tube, catheters, IVs and other assorted gadgets meant to keep him functioning. Scully didn't know if he could feel the touch of her hand on his much colder one. She fancied that his hand tightened around hers just the slightest bit, but she knew it was probably nothing more than her own desperation looking for animation in her now-comatose friend. With barely-checked tears in her eyes, she regained her normal chair beside him. With her heart in her throat she tried to reconcile herself to his impending death, but she couldn't. Her vision blurred as the tears overcame her. In the midst of the tears she berated him for not fighting with her, for not struggling onwards. She knew her anger was unjustified, but it was there anyway. @}--}---- Three Days Later When Scully woke up at the hospital, the first thing she saw was a Lifesaver wrapper balanced pendulously on a black- clad knee. The owner of the wrapper came into focus less than a second later. Scully groaned out loud. "Oh, you're awake," the old man observed. "That's clever of you," Scully answered caustically. "Aren't you dead yet?" He actually looked healthier than last time she'd seen him. Scully glowered at the injustice of that. His expression was a mix of sorrow and annoyance. "Don't take that tone with me. I'm just here to say goodbye to an old friend's son. Or my son, depending on who you ask." Scully snarled. "You're responsible for this." He looked surprised. "My, you *do* like to blame me for everything, don't you? I know why it was done, but I had no influence in the matter." "Why was it done? What purpose could it serve?" The 'Smoking Man' tilted his head, regarding her. "It was actually implanted over a year before yours. You remember the big fuss over Ellens Air Force Base?" "Yeah... it was one of our first cases together." "The chip was implanted after Mulder's memory was wiped. It was a surveillance tool, to see if he would adapt better than other subjects of the memory-removal process. A fairly straightforward little process. We actually stopped the biological surveillance shortly afterwards. It was a rather useless part of the Project." "Your *useless* Project is killing my best friend!" Scully charged angrily. "Tell me how to reverse this!" The old man looked taken-aback. "It was hard enough getting the chip to save you! Getting another is impossible." "You *must* have ways," Scully pressed. "You certainly look better. Tell me, do you have a miracle chip too?" The sorrow flew across his face again. "There is nothing I can do for him. I came to say goodbye." She noticed that he evaded her last question, but she was too angry to dwell on it. "Say it and leave us in peace, Spender," she hissed. She turned away, hearing only the clop of his shoes as he walked away. Scully sighed deeply. Then, she looked back at something Spender had said. With a kind of wonder, Dana Scully found a last-ditch hope for Mulder's survival. She wondered if she'd have the courage to implement it. @}--}---- Scully took Mulder's unresponsive hand in her own. "You know, Mulder, I've been at your apartment every day since you were admitted here. I've fed the fish, cleaned up your messes, and I even paid your rent for you. You owe me a pile of money now, G-Man." "I found a bag of sunflower seeds too. God help me, I ate a few and I think I'm addicted now. That's all we need, right? Both of us spitting out those damned shells and making an even bigger mess in the office. I didn't realize the stupid things tasted so good." "You know, I actually gave myself a slideshow the other day? I loaded up the machine with all sorts of bizarre things and tried to imagine how you'd explain them to make them sound halfway credible. I can't do half as well as you." She prattled on, chattering incessantly to the empty husk of the man she knew. "I'm not going to lose you, Mulder. I won't. You are the dearest friend I've ever had, and I know what I need to do to save you. I'm going now. I know you're going to be mad when you find out what I've done, but I'm doing it anyway. If I can save you, let me." @}--}---- "Take it out." Scully stood like a warrior in the sterile office of her--*their*--oncologist. Her heart pounded with the knowledge that she could save Mulder. Her palms were sweaty, her knees shook... it was almost like stage fright. And wasn't this acting? Acting like she wasn't afraid of the consequences of her actions, acting like she wasn't quailing at the thought of the silent invader that was just waiting for its chance to strike again. And once it was over, the greatest performance of all: hiding the truth of her actions from Mulder as long as possible. If he knew, he might just kill her himself. Dr. Zimmerman blinked. "But, Dana..." "Take it out," she repeated, baring the nape of her neck. The oncologist tried to reason with her. "We can't be sure if this chip isn't keeping your cancer in remission..." She scowled at him. "Take it out." He regarded her stalwart stance, the glimmer of defiance in her eyes. Zimmerman realized that if he didn't do as she asked, she'd do it herself. With a rusty pocketknife, if it really came down to it. With a defeated grumble the doctor extracted the chip from the base of Scully's neck. "I can guess what you want me to do with it," Zimmerman stated. Scully nodded tremulously. "Will you do it for me?" The doctor nodded without a word, marveling at the strength behind those ice-blue eyes, and at the love that must be hidden in the depths of her soul. @}--}---- Three hours later, Mulder opened his eyes. He blinked as the world came into focus, shining like the midday sun. He saw Skinner first, down at the end of his bed. Near the Assistant Director was a scruffy looking trio, none other than the Lone Gunmen. Margaret Scully hovered near the door watching both Mulder and her daughter, who was clinging to his hand like a lamprey. They were all watching him. It was like being center stage at a family reunion. He groaned softly. His partner's face lit up, and Mulder basked in the glow. "Good morning, sunshine," Scully smiled broadly. For the moment, Scully wasn't even thinking about the implications on her own health. She was just glad to see the sparkle back in Mulder's eyes. Dr. Zimmerman stepped into Mulder's field of vision. "Congratulations Agent Mulder. Your cancer is in remission." @}--}---- Crossing the Rubicon--Part Four "Congratulations Agent Mulder. Your cancer is in remission." Scully watched, still grinning, as he processed that. His mouth opened to speak, then closed again. Then it opened again and shut. He was dazed. he thought in the midst of the turmoil. But it was not the time to babble about their future, not with that many witnesses. After three more aborted attempts at speech, he managed a single word. "How?" Everyone in the room could read the confusion in his face. His eyes were casting from one onlooker to the next, begging for an explanation, no matter how extraordinary. Scully thought to herself. "Dr. Barrett, your physician in Bermuda, found the missing chip," she lied smoothly. "He sent it express and we had it implanted as soon as it arrived." She smiled reassuringly. "Everything's going to be all right now." Dr. Zimmerman looked at her sharply, started to speak, then shook his head and excused himself. Scully breathed a sigh of relief that the oncologist hadn't blown her cover. The exchange didn't go unnoticed. Skinner and Frohike both cast speculative looks at the agent, who was finishing giving the details to Mulder. Both men watched her carefully and noted that she was schooling her voice. It was subtle, and very careful, but obvious when looked at carefully. Frohike shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He kept craning to see Scully's neck, until Langly jabbed him with an elbow to stop his squirming. Skinner, for his part, was as cool as ever, not letting on that he suspected Scully was lying to them all. Mulder, for his part, wanted out of the hospital. Right that second. He wriggled in the hospital bed until Scully threatened to have him restrained. "I'll whine until you let me go home," he grumbled, casting an evil look at his partner but trying to hold still. Scully rolled her eyes. "Nothing new there." Suddenly, Mulder's eyes widened. "I didn't pay my rent! Now I have to come live with you!" He leered playfully at her, ignoring the presence of both her mother and their boss. Scully was so glad to hear the "old" Mulder that she almost kissed him right there in the presence of all their friends. Skinner snorted. "I'll be going now. It's good to see you back to normal, Agent Mulder." The AD walked out, sending a second curious look at Scully. He looked back again as he crossed the threshold, as if he desperately wanted to say something but had to hold back. Scully explained that she paid his rent for him. He sighed mournfully. "Damn. So close." He flashed a puppy- dog look at his partner. "Sure I can't live with you? You won't notice me at all..." Scully rolled her eyes. "I won't notice until you accidentally leave one of your videos in my VCR." To the surprise of the room, Mrs. Scully found that funnier than Mulder did, laughing so hard tears ran down her face. Mulder, to his credit, blushed furiously as the room cracked up. Scully felt her heart lifting. She hadn't been this happy since his first nosebleed. Mrs. Scully left a few minutes later, followed by the three Gunmen. "You're coming over for cheese-steaks as soon as you're out of bed, Mulder," Langly declared. Byers added, "Scully, you're coming too. And you're going to eat at least one. No exceptions to the rule." Scully shook her head, laughing. "I'll eat two, and I'll enjoy every minute of it." They started for the door en masse, as always, except Frohike lagged a little behind. He gazed at Scully with an intensity that was more than a little disturbing. Then he too left, without a word. His "partners in crime" didn't seem to notice his bizarre behavior. Then, she was left alone with Mulder, and she forgot all about it. "Scully?" She took her usual seat. "What is it?" "Thank you." Her smile belied the tears that wanted to fall. "We're even now, Mulder." He looked at her gravely. "We'll never be even. I owe you too much." "You're trying to pay a debt that doesn't exist, Mulder." He lowered his eyes from hers. "It does exist." "Friends don't keep tabs," Scully tried to reassure him. "You've gone so far beyond what a normal friend does," he persisted. "I mean, you paid my *rent* for godssake. I keep trying to figure out why I deserve someone like you for my best friend." Scully grimaced inwardly. "I'm going to run out for coffee," she said finally. "I'll be back in a minute." He nodded, his eyes already heavy from the exertion of the day. Scully landed an impulsive kiss on his forehead before she left, not noticing the pleased half-smile that appeared on his face. Frohike was waiting for her outside the door. Scully stopped short. "Where'd the other guys go?" She took in the empty expanse of hallway and focused back on Frohike, eyes narrowing with sudden suspicion. "They're waiting for me in the van," he answered. "How are you?" His voice held an unusual mix of concern, suspicion, and fear. It wasn't a tone that Scully heard much. She raised an eyebrow. "Me? I'm fine." His eyes narrowed. "You can't lie for shit, Scully. I know what you did, and if Mulder wasn't so drugged out, he'd know too." "I don't know what you're talking about," she answered stiffly, walking past him toward the cafeteria. Abruptly, she was brought to a halt. Frohike had a hold of the back collar of her shirt. He pulled it far enough to see the small, flesh-colored Band-Aid at the base of her neck, then released her. "He'll kill you himself when he finds out," Frohike informed her rigid back as she walked briskly away. "It'll kill you, and then it'll kill him." Scully screamed to herself. @}--}---- Four days later, Scully appeared at Mulder's room with good news. In her hand was a bag of sunflower seeds done up in a large bow. "C'mon, Mulder, we're leaving." The words had barely left her mouth before he had leapt out of bed. He was jumping into his clothes with record speed. Scully turned away slightly to give him the privacy that he didn't seem to need. "Are those for me?" Mulder asked excitedly, gesturing to the seeds. Scully handed them over with a smile, pleased with herself for thinking of them. she thought whimsically. "Scully, you're my favorite person in the world," he grinned as he started popping the seeds into his mouth. "Glad to hear it," she answered. He grabbed his things and waved her out. "Ladies first," he said, still grinning foolishly. They were in the elevator when Scully felt the tickle under her nose. There was no way out. If she turned ten degrees to the left, he'd see the nosebleed. He would notice anyway unless she did something drastic. Her cool exterior covered her frantic thoughts. Finally, as the elevator doors began to open, she seized her chance. And walked straight into the not-quite-open doors. Her yelp of pain wasn't feigned. "DAMN IT!" she cried as she slapped her hand to her nose. Mulder's jaw dropped. "Did you just run into the door?" He looked like he wasn't sure whether he should be concerned or amused. At the sight of the blood pouring out of his friend, he decided on concern. "Did you break your nose? Do you need to sit down?" He was back in Mulder-mode, bustling around her like a mother hen at the slightest sign Scully glared at him. "Shut up and give me a Kleenex or something." she thought at the blood flow refused to slow down. It was staining her clothes a mottled crimson, and Scully realized she may have done more harm than good with her theatrics. He handed her his handkerchief, and she clamped it to her nose. "I've never seen you do that before," he mentioned. "And with luck, you'll never see it again," she muttered. He laughed, a sound that Scully couldn't get enough of after the dreary silences of the cancer. she grimaced to herself as the flood from her nose finally stopped. They walked to the car in silence, the joy of Mulder's release from the hospital overshadowed by something only one of them really understood. @}--}---- As promised, the agents appeared at the Lone Gunman offices for a cheese-steak party the next night. Frohike didn't say a word about the confrontation in the hallway. He didn't have to--his silences were long and the rest of the gunmen didn't know why. Mulder himself, despite valiant efforts, couldn't tear him out of his self-inflicted shell. Other than Frohike's sulk, the party was a celebration of Mulder's newfound life. Scully was as good as her word and wolfed down two cheesesteaks, much to the shock of the men. She just smiled angelically. Looking back, Scully remembered the way the room tensed when her phone rang, as if they all knew there was something dangerous and painful lurking over the horizon, not so distant as it should've been. If she had answered it herself, then perhaps the heartache could've been deferred for a while. But Mulder was closer to her jacket. "Answer that for me, Mulder?" she said amidst a huge bite of food. He shrugged and pulled it out. "Yeah, she's got her mouth full right now...sure, I'll give her a message..." He glanced over at her and puffed his cheeks out, making fun of her newfound love for cheese- steaks. She stuck her tongue out at him, and he clutched his chest, feigning hurt. Then the color drained from his face. His eyes raised to meet hers, wide and hazel and deep as the oceans. Frohike, as usual, was the first to notice that there was something wrong. He was also the only one who knew what could make Mulder look that shell-shocked. "You've stuck your foot in it this time, Scully," he told her. He gestured at Byers and Langly to follow him out, leaving Scully defenseless from the storm that was coming. "Yes, I'll be *sure* to tell her," Mulder said, voice short. He turned off the phone with an angry jab of his thumb. He stared at her for a long moment, and started stalking toward her. Scully backed up at the same time. "Come here, Scully," he commanded. She shook her head. She knew he'd never hurt her, but she didn't want to be too near when he started to yell. "*Now*," he added. Against her own will, she went to him. He gave her the message as she walked, ever so slowly, to where he stood. "That was Dr. Barrett, calling to apologize that he didn't find my chip," he said, voice cold and even. "He wanted you to know that he'll keep looking, but he doubts it will be found." Scully lowered her head as she reached him. She stayed silent, awaiting the inevitable. She felt his fingers, warm but clinical as they probed her neck. They touched the new scar and drew back as if stung. Mulder turned away, retreating to the other side of the cluttered room. It took a few moments for Scully to regain her courage and look up at him. He was standing silently, ten feet away, motionless except for the telltale shaking of his shoulders. Scully's heart broke as she went to him, touching his shoulder and trying not to pull away when he flinched at her touch. When he looked at her, his eyes were wet. "I can't believe you did that. Why did you give it to me?" With an undignified thump, he sat down heavily on the floor at her feet. He buried his head in his hands. Scully followed him down, facing him on the cool concrete floor. Her eyes were flooding against her will. "I couldn't do it, Mulder. I couldn't watch you die!" She touched him again and was relieved when he didn't pull away from her. "I can't lose you like that," she confessed in a tiny voice. The tears overcame her and she laid her head in the crook of his neck, letting her arms creep around him. Almost against his will, Mulder's arms came up and wrapped her in an embrace, binding her to him so that nothing could ever tear them apart. The three magic words were still unspoken, but they floated in the air around the agents as they clung to each other. She couldn't make out his whispered words. "What, Mulder?" "I said, I'll die either way," he repeated, still softly. "One way or the other, it's the end of the road." "No!" Scully cried. "We're both alive, right now, and we have time to find another chip. Listen to me, Mulder," she said, laying her hand on his face to make him look at her. "Before, you were in a coma. You didn't have any time left. I did what I had to do to keep you from giving up." He leaned unconsciously into her hand. "If you end up in the hospital, you have to take it back." "Mulder--" "Just promise me you'll take the chip back if you need it!" he insisted. "I can't watch you die, not again." "Mulder, I have my faith to fall back on... That's one of the reasons why I think it's better for me to face this. You don't have that to support you," Scully tried to reason. "Scully, you *are* my faith." She didn't know how to answer that. "Mulder, we're going to get through this. Just don't give up on me, and I won't give up on you. Do we have a deal?" He kissed her softly, chastely, on the lips. "Deal." Scully mused. @}--}---- Meanwhile, in the FBI building, Skinner was working late doing paperwork and thinking about two of his agents. Scully was lying about the origin of the chip, of that he was certain. The doctor hadn't been expecting the explanation that she'd given for its appearance. The question was: where did it come from. His first thought was that she had sold out in order to save Mulder, just like Mulder had almost done years earlier. Skinner dismissed the idea. Mulder hadn't caved in, and Scully wouldn't either, even if she had been approached. He didn't think she had been. The AD went back to his reports, only to have his mind wander back to the elusive chip. The only explanation he could come up with was that Scully had given her own chip to Mulder, and was covering up. But that had potentially fatal consequences for her. Would that stop her from doing it? He thought of the bond between the two partners and decided her own life wouldn't be a consideration. He was still lost in his thoughts when there was a knock on the door. "Come in!" he yelled, unsnapping his holster at the same time. The last thing he expected was the blonde woman that walked in, looking behind her like she was being watched. She looked him over. "I'm here to help Mulder and Scully." @}--}---- Crossing the Rubicon--Part Five They were still clinging to each other on the concrete floor when Frohike led the other Gunmen back in, having judged that they'd given their friends enough time to either patch up the argument or tear each other limb from limb. There was a feeling of a disaster barely averted wafting through the back room, a sense that something monumental had happened. It was obvious from their position--arms wrapped tightly around each other, heads resting on the other's shoulder-- that the danger was past. At least for the moment. It was still a little awkward, though, as Frohike cleared his throat--loudly--to announce their entrance. Mulder and Scully both hurriedly composed themselves, pulling themselves to their feet and brushing at the few remaining tearstains that lingered. They returned to the table with the remains of their dinner still cooling on it, and sat in a not-too-comfortable silence for a moment. The agents were both shaken by the bombshells that had been dropped on them, one after the other. The Gunmen were trying to figure out exactly how to act around their friends after catching them in such an emotional position. Then another phone rang, shattering the silence. "It's you, this time," Scully observed with some trepidation as she pointed to Mulder's phone, now glowing faintly. The five of them stared at it for two more rings before Mulder finally grabbed it. The memory of the *last* call was still painfully fresh in his mind. "Mulder," he barked into the phone. Scully watched without breathing, knowing somehow that this call was just as monumental as the last, but in a different way. Mulder caught her stare and mouthed "Skinner" under his breath. He listened without speaking, then handed the phone to Frohike. "He needs directions to get here." Frohike stared. "You've got to be kidding." Mulder shook his head. "I think you'd better tell him how to get here. He says he has someone with him that can help, someone who asked to come here." With a grumble Frohike relayed the information to Skinner. The rest of them stared at the floor, trying to find a way around communicating. Eventually they realized they were all staring at the same crack in the concrete, and burst out laughing. The tension dissolved a little. After hanging up, Frohike groaned loudly. "Heat up the steaks, we've got more company coming." @}--}---- It was a good two hours before Skinner actually showed up. In the meantime, conversation had at last started up again and the clumsy silences were gone. No one mentioned the revelation that had come earlier, but the aftermath of Mulder and Scully's conversation was apparent, in the way they sat close together, the way their hands brushed for no real reason, in a new tone to their voices. Something, some unseen bridge, had been broken and burned. All three of the Gunmen, in their own ways, prayed that the agents would have the strength to pursue what they were just beginning to realize. When Skinner finally arrived, the video monitor showed his bald head and a heavily covered figure beside him. The other person was smaller, swathed in black with a large and very floppy hat. It was almost comical. Then they were allowed in, and the reaction was anything but funny. Langly did the honors and led the newcomers into the back room where the others waited. Byers turned towards the two arrivals, brandishing a plateful of cheese steaks. "We've got food--" he started, then cut himself off as the draped figure removed her covering. The plate he held began to teeter dangerously, and Frohike, with a speed that belied his stature, rescued it from an impending trip to the floor. Langly and Frohike, who knew what was happening, exchanged a grin and sat down, motioning the AD to do the same. A spark of recognition sparked in both Mulder's and Scully's eyes, but for different reasons. The blonde woman smiled shakily at the man standing across the room. And in a rush, John Byers and Suzanne Modeski flew toward each other as if with wings. The depth of the longing and passion being displayed six feet away from them was enough to make every person sitting at the table start blushing in earnest. Frohike finally broke the spell. "Hey, guys, my glasses are starting to steam up, here." Suzanne and Byers separated, both breathing heavily. They gazed soulfully into each others eyes for a moment, then Suzanne turned to the rest of the room. "It's wonderful to see you all again!" she bubbled, a feat that none of them had ever seen before, Byers included. She hugged both of the other Gunmen and Scully, and smiled broadly at the look on Mulder's face. "Do you remember me, Agent Mulder?" she asked. "Uh... yeah, I think so, but it's been ten years since I saw you..." he looked from Scully to Suzanne. "And how did you two meet? We weren't partners when I was in VCU." Langly snorted. "You mean you didn't tell him, Scully?" "I thought *me* kicking your asses was sufficient without Mulder killing you too." "Tell me what?" Mulder looked put out, as if he was missing a really good joke. Which, to be realistic, he was. Scully clapped her hand over her eyes. "I'll tell you the whole story later, all right?" He agreed with a indulgent shake of the head. "Anyway, I'm here for a reason. Other than you, John, even though I wish this was a social call," she said, catching his look. "Actually, I was surprised to find you were out of the hospital, Agent Mulder. I was expecting to find you comatose at best." He winced, and Scully placed a warm hand over his for support. "He was until very recently." Suzanne frowned slightly. "For about a year now, I've been working with an underground group, devoted to counteracting the work of conspirators within the government. As a rule, the group follows the work you do in the X-Files, and the *unofficial* work that isn't through the FBI, like Agent Scully's trip to Africa." It was Scully's turn to frown. "I tried so hard to keep that a secret," she moaned, frustrated. With a grin, Suzanne comforted her. "Our information network is very thorough, so don't feel bad." "Our goal," she went on, "has been finding ways, not just to expose the conspiracy, but to fight their devices, like the implants. When we heard of Mulder's cancer, we knew that we had a new battlefield." "What exactly can you do to fight an implant?" Langly asked. "Right now, we're trying to develop our own implant, one that can take the place of the government-issue one. It's experimental, but ideally it would keep the cancers at bay without any of the other effects associated with implants." Frohike gawked at her. "That's... that's..." "Incredible," Byers finished, gazing at her adoringly. He kept reaching out to touch her, constantly reassuring his heart that she was real and solid and standing next to him. Suzanne nodded grimly. "But it's not finished, and we came to realize that Mulder didn't have much time left. So we tried another tactic: finding a replacement for his missing chip. That's why I came here." She looked closely at Mulder. "But now I confess I'm a bit confused. You're recovering without a replacement chip?" Her voice held a kind of wonderment. Mulder's eyes saddened. "No, I have a replacement." Suzanne's face was blank. Then she took note of the position of the agents, the way they were unconsciously leaning into each other. She looked sharply at Scully. "You have an implant from your experience with the cancer. It's common knowledge in our underground." Scully bit her lip and looked away from the other woman's drilling gaze. Suzanne covered her mouth with one shaking hand. "Oh my God, you gave him your chip?" The silence in the room was answer enough. "Then we still need the replacement chip, and I know where we can get one." Skinner blinked. "Wait a minute, why did you come to me, at my office, in the middle of FBI headquarters? I thought you were underground." "You, AD Skinner, are also well known to us, and we thought your help would be useful. You're a good man to have in a fight, or at least that's your reputation." The last words were nearly a challenge. He rose to the challenge like a trooper. "How do we get a hold of that chip? And where is it?" "I had to get Scully's from the Pentagon, and it wasn't the most enjoyable experience of my life," Mulder threw in. Suzanne shrugged. "This one should be easier to get to. We believe it's stored in an abandoned building not far from downtown D.C. and that it's relatively unguarded thanks to the secrecy of the location." "If it's so secret, how does your group know about it?" Langly asked. "Nothing is secret if you know where to look," she answered cryptically. "This information just came to us two days ago. I headed for D.C. as soon as I could." "Just tell us what to do," Scully told her, grasping her partner's hand and squeezing it. @}--}---- They packed into the Gunmen's van to go to the site, each thinking about the instructions Suzanne had given them. "Remember," she repeated, as they pulled up a block away from the inconspicuous building, "we don't know how the chip is stored, but we think it's on the third floor some- where. We also can be relatively sure that there's only one guard, who we think lives there full time. Be careful." The shadows of dusk hid Mulder, Scully, Skinner, and Suzanne as they crept toward the offices, adjusting their headsets. The Lone Gunmen remained in the van, both monitoring the building and readying to beat a hasty retreat once their friends had stolen the chip and gotten back. Suzanne motioned the three agents forward to join her behind a hedge. Silently she pointed at a third floor window. There was the faintest of lights showing from behind a thick window covering. It wasn't at all noticeable--unless you were looking for it. Skinner took control from there, leading the makeshift troops into the building. It was a dank, unwelcoming place, obviously abandoned for quite some time. Cobwebs hung like curtains over every surface. But still, in the crossing beams of their flash- lights, faint footprints could be seen leading toward a black stairwell. Skinner pointed at them, and gestured. Silent as ghosts they ascended the stairs to the third floor, each wincing in turn as the stairwell door creaked out a hoarse warning. It was obvious, when they gained the hallway, where the light was coming from. The occupant of room 361 was not shy from the inside of the building. A golden glow flooded the hall, casting fairy-shapes on the walls. Skinner made the count, lifting each finger in turn. With silent efficiency, the four of them poured into the room. Mulder's jaw dropped. Scully made a strangled noise deep in her throat. Suzanne's eyes widened. Skinner was the only one with the presence of mind left to level a gun on the single occupant of the room. Then he too gawked. C.G.B. Spender gawked right back at them. @}--}---- Meanwhile, in the van, the Gunmen were gawking at the video feeds from the four headsets. "What in the hell?" Byers ventured. @}--}---- Spender--and his uninvited guests--stood in what was once an office but was now a tiny efficiency apartment. There was a futon in one corner, a camp stove in another. It was the most rudimentary of living accommodations. Spender himself wasn't looking much better than his home. "Can I offer you coffee?" he quipped weakly, staggering a little as he waved toward an iron pot on the minuscule stove. "It might still be hot." With a groan he flopped down in the single chair. "Please, pull up some floor and make yourselves comfortable." Skinner growled. "Just tell us where it is, and we'll be going." The Cancer-Man shrugged. "It's in the desk drawer." Suzanne kept her eyes on him every second as she moved around him to the cracked and battered desk. Seconds later she had a vial in her hand. Mulder watched her as if she was regaining the Holy Grail. In a way, she was. She pocketed it and headed for the door. "I'm getting this back to the van," she told them as she vanished. Spender sighed. "You'd better go get that thing implanted, Agent Scully." He suddenly looked twenty years older. She hadn't moved since spotting him when they entered. Now she spoke. "You had that chip in your own neck," she gasped. "I knew it when I saw you at the hospital. You took it out, and leaked the information that it was here knowing we'd come for it as soon as we heard." Mulder looked from Spender to Scully, unsure of what was going on. Scully held Spender's gaze. "Confirm or deny?" she pressed. Spender lowered his gaze, then met her eyes to answer. "Confirm." Skinner understood a second later. "Why?" he asked, stunned. Spender directed his words to Scully. "You aren't the only one who can make a sacrifice for someone you care about." Scully glanced at Mulder, who was turning an alarming shade of red. Skinner finally took the initiative and retreated from the room, tugging his agents behind him. They left, looking back over their shoulders every few seconds to make sure that it wasn't a trick. When they reached the van and were driving away, they allowed themselves the luxury of relaxation. Mulder remained silent during the ride back. @}--}---- The chip was replaced without ceremony the next morning. All things considered, Scully didn't feel any different. Deep down she knew that disaster had been averted once again and life could go on as usual, but her body felt the same as always. Her concern, once again, was not for herself, but for Mulder and his pensive silences. She cornered him at his apartment after a long day of work and tiptoeing around his sullen attitude. "Mulder, what is WRONG with you?" she exploded as soon as she set foot inside. "Why are you acting so...so...cranky?" "I'm not cranky!" he snapped. Scully raised an eyebrow. "Maybe a little," he amended grouchily. He refused to meet her concerned eyes. "I don't understand, Mulder," Scully sighed. "You're going to be all right. *I'm* going to be all right. Yet you're walking around like the apocalypse is tomorrow." She perched on the sofa, watching as he slumped at the other end. "I can't decide how to feel about this," he finally said, waving vaguely at his neck, then at hers. "I was prepared to have to beat the thing out of him, and then he just handed it over." "And this bothers you? That you didn't fight for it?" Scully was trying to follow his thought, and for once she wasn't able to do it. "Not that I didn't fight, no. The fact that he actually sacrificed his life to hand it over. It's the same thing you did for me." "I did it because I love you," Scully blurted out. Then she blushed furiously, suddenly wanting to look everywhere but at her partner. She was studying the fish tank when he slid over to her and turned her head to face him. His smile was sunlight-warm. "I love you, but I've told you before, haven't I? You thought it was the drugs." Scully grinned sheepishly. Mulder grew serious again. "But think for a second. You made the choice for love. Why did he?" Scully saw where he was going, but refused to answer the question. "All I know is that you're here, and I'm here, and we're both healthy. I don't care why. I just don't want to know what's happening in that man's mind." Mulder persisted. "But--" "Shhh," Scully placed a finger over his lips. "I don't care about his motivations. They're as cloudy as his cigarette smoke. All I care about is that we have a second chance." With that said, she took her finger away and replaced it with her lips, capturing him in a hungry kiss. "We have all the time in the world, and there's no going back." Two hands reached for their cellphones and turned them off. @}--}---- A.D. Skinner was chin-deep in papers when his phone rang. It was Scully, asking for the day off. He granted it without a second thought. When Mulder called less than ten minutes later to ask for the day off, Skinner granted it, again without a second thought. Ten minutes after *that,* it dawned on him what had happened. His laughter could be heard echoing through the hallways for nearly an hour. @}--}---- The End! ~~Now when Caesar had overtaken his cohorts at the river Rubicon, which was the utmost boundary of his province, he rested for a while; then, considering how great an enter- prise he was undertaking, turned to those who stood next and said, "As yet, friends, we are able to turn back; but once we pass over this little bridge, there will be no business but by force of arms and dint of sword."~~ From *The Deified Julius*, Suetonius, paragraph 31 Hope you enjoyed this little outing of mine. If you liked it a lot, send me feedback. In fact, if you liked it a little bit, send me feedback too. If you hated it and can give me friendly negative feedback, go for it. My email is PitaM13@cs.com Check out my fanfic: http://dreamwater.org/pitafic