TITLE: Blood Ties 12: By the Road We Came

AUTHOR: Dawn

EMAIL: sunrise83@comcast.net

ARCHIVE: Gossamer, Jeopardy--others are fine, just let 
me know.

RATING: PG-13

CLASSIFICATION: XA

KEYWORDS: MSR, AU

SUMMARY: Mulder's knowledge of alien abductions 
becomes up close and personal. Can he make the long 
journey home?

DISCLAIMER: Mulder, Scully, and Skinner belong to 
Chris Carter and 1013 Productions. No copyright 
infringement is intended.

AUTHOR'S NOTES: At the end. 

FEEDBACK: I'd love to hear from you.


Blood Ties 12: By the Road We Came (Prologue)
By Dawn


Give me your hand, my brother, search my face; 
Look in these eyes lest I should think of shame; 
For we have made an end of all things base. 
We are returning by the road we came.

"To My Brother" Seigfried Sassoon (1918)


PROLOGUE


Holiday Lake State Park
Outside Lynchburg VA
2:43 AM


"At the risk of sounding pissy, Fox--why are we here?"

Mulder abandoned the leaf he'd been shredding and slowly 
turned to Grey. His face bore the blank, slightly amused 
expression that inevitably signaled a smartass remark.

"Well, that would depend."

"Depend? On what?"

"Whether you're speaking geographically...or cosmically."

A soft snort drew Grey's attention past his brother's 
shoulder just in time to catch the roll of Dana's eyes. 
Propped against a log, her clothing rumpled and a smudge 
of dirt on her cheek, she looked as weary as Grey felt.

"See, darlin', that's why I admire Fox so much. He's never 
one to get bogged down in small details, always looking at 
the big picture." An elbow to the ribs turned his brother's 
smirk to a gasp. "How 'bout you start simple and we'll 
move on to the meaning of life stuff if we have time?"

Fox selected another leaf for torture, eyes abruptly dark and 
humorless. "You know why."

"I knew why we were here at seven. I even knew why at 
ten. But it's going on three in the morning, Fox."

"The timing is right. She's going to be returned tonight. 
You know that; the evidence is too solid to dispute."

Grey heaved a sigh, tugging the baseball cap from his head 
and running his fingers through his hair. "I know the 
pattern, yes--a child disappears without a trace, then returns 
forty-eight hours later."

"To the same location." Mulder gestured at the campfire's 
cold ashes with a jab of his hand. "Paige Thompson was 
abducted from this very spot Friday night. It's been forty-
eight hours. Hence our presence, here, now." He lifted an 
eyebrow. "Shall we move on to the meaning of life stuff?"

Grey kept his voice even. "It's been more than forty-eight 
hours. Paige disappeared at around five in the evening. In 
every case so far, the kids have been returned within a 
couple hours of the forty-eight hour mark." He shifted, 
wincing. "As my numb ass can attest, we passed that point 
hours ago. Enough is enough."

Mulder tipped his head back and stared up at the stars, jaw 
clenched. "It's never enough, Grey. Not when you're the 
one left behind."

Bereft of a reply, Grey watched Scully run her hand down 
his brother's arm and tangle their fingers together. "Mulder, 
you know Grey wants this to work as much as we do. But 
he's right; something should have happened by now. We've 
been here nearly twelve hours. Just how long do you intend 
to wait?"

Eyes locked, a silent conversation passed between them. 
Grey turned away, almost, but not quite used to the feeling 
of exclusion when their universe narrowed to each other. 

After a moment, his brother let out a soft puff of air and his 
shoulders slumped. "Okay, okay. Even I have to admit this 
place has lost its allure. Let's go." He stood up, extending 
one hand to Scully while the other dusted off the seat of his 
jeans.

Grey grimaced at twanging back muscles as he hauled 
himself to his feet. He shouldered his backpack and 
motioned for his brother and Dana to lead the way, 
swatting an errant mosquito that thumbed its nose at his 
liberal application of "Deep Woods Off." They trudged 
wearily through trees and a fine mist hovering where sun-
warmed earth met cool night air.

Mulder brooded, his rigid spine and brisk stride a clear 
rebuff to communication. Scully endured his taciturn 
silence for several minutes before plunging ahead anyway. 
"Mulder, we were right to act on the information we had. 
There's no reason to believe our presence here had any 
impact on Paige's return."

Grey's eyebrows soared. "Is that why you've got your 
panties in a twist? You think we're the reason nothing 
happened tonight?" When Mulder didn't respond, he shook 
his head. "Fox, you can't possibly--"

Mulder cut him off with a sharp swipe of his hand. "Think 
about it for a minute. We've already identified the pattern--
a child is abducted, MIA for forty-eight hours, then 
returned. In the cases we've been able to document, there's 
been little or no variation to that sequence of events. Until 
now." He stopped, propping hands on hips. "What's the one 
variable in this case that makes it different from all the 
others? You tell me."

Grey opened his mouth to argue, took in Dana's stricken 
expression, and shut it. His brother's lips compressed to a 
thin line and he nodded, then resumed walking. "That's 
what I thought." 

Scully sighed, following with Grey at her side. "Mulder, we 
had to try. You know that."

Mulder's chin dropped and his steps slowed. "In my head. 
But, Scully, if our presence here tonight altered the course 
of events..."

Grey kicked a broken tree branch out of the way. "I had 
someone watching Kira's house when Claire was returned, 
remember? That certainly didn't seem to muck up the 
process."

Mulder shook his head, his reply short and impatient. 
"Outside. Not in her bedroom, six feet from where she 
disappeared."

"C'mon! I can't imagine--"

"I can. I've read the accounts, Grey, talked to people 
who've been there. Who've endured the experiments, the 
tests." He stopped, directing his words to Scully. "Dwayne 
Barry, Penny Northern...Max Fenig." Running a hand over 
his face, he turned back to his brother. "I've heard more 
than enough to imagine what it must be like, the pain, the 
fear. Damn it, I'm just saying that if we've done anything to 
delay that little girl making it home..."

Light flared, slicing through mist and shadow, blinding in 
its intensity. Grey staggered backward, hands reflexively 
coming up to shield his eyes. Then, just as abruptly, 
darkness returned and he was left blinking at the spots 
chasing themselves across his vision. His brother's voice 
pierced the confusion.

"Damn it! I knew we should've waited!"

"Mulder! Mulder, wa... Damn it, Mulder! Slow down."

Grey's caught a glimpse of copper hair as Dana dashed 
after Fox, who had already disappeared back the way they'd 
come at breakneck speed. Swearing under his breath as he 
stumbled over tree roots and slipped on damp leaves, Grey 
followed.

By the time he reached the campsite, Scully was kneeling 
beside the little girl's limp body while Mulder tried to coax 
a signal from the cell phone he'd extracted from his 
backpack. Scully's hands moved with confident efficiency 
as she checked the child's respiration, pulse, and pupils.

"She's alive, but completely unresponsive. Vitals are weak. 
Mulder, we need to get her out of here, right now."

Mulder stabbed the phone's buttons, growling in frustration. 
"I can't get a signal. Must be the trees--it worked back at 
the car." He hesitated, shifting his weight from one foot to 
the other.

Crouched down beside Scully, Grey gritted his teeth at the 
tangle of dark curls framing a small, pale face. "Go." He 
flicked his hand toward the parking lot, then stood and 
shrugged out of his backpack, tossing it to his brother. "I'll 
carry her back. You worry about getting an ambulance."

A quick dip of his head and Fox took off.

Fifty minutes later the EMTs had stabilized Paige and were 
lifting her onto a gurney for transport. Scully consulted 
with the paramedic for a moment before returning to where 
Mulder and Grey leaned against the car.

"They're taking her to Mercy Hospital in Lynchburg. I said 
I'd follow."

Mulder chewed on his lip for a moment before speaking. "I 
was hoping to go over the area now. In another hour this 
place will be swarming with police and park rangers who 
have no idea what's really happened here. They could wind 
up trampling what little evidence exists."

Scully frowned. "I can't stay, Mulder. I'll need to brief the 
doctors on everything we've learned about her condition 
and treatment."

"Not a problem--Grey can drive you. I'll poke around here 
for a bit; talk to the locals when they show up."

Scully was shaking her head before he'd finished speaking. 
"That's out of the question. There's no way I'm leaving you 
alone out here, without back up."

"Scully..."

"Forget it, Mulder. Every time I let you fly solo something 
bad happens. And let's face it--your track record with 
wooded areas leaves a lot to be desired."

Grey held up a hand before his brother could continue the 
argument. "Hang on, hang on a minute. There's an easy 
solution to this. Dana, you catch a ride with the paramedics. 
I'll stay to help Fox and we'll join you at the hospital later."

Scully hesitated, arms folded tightly across her chest. 
Before she could answer, one of the EMTs approached 
them.

"Agent Scully? We're all set. ETA should be about 30 
minutes, if you'd like to follow us."

She smiled, her troubled expression switching to cool 
professionalism. "Actually I could use a lift, if that would 
be all right."

The paramedic, whose nametag identified him as "Topher," 
mulled over the request for a moment before nodding with 
a wry grin. "I guess that would be all right, considering the 
fact you're a doctor and a fed. You can ride up front with 
Steve."

"Thank you." Moving backward toward the ambulance, she 
cocked a finger at her husband. "Mercy Hospital, Mulder. 
You'll have to ask for directions."

One corner of his mouth turned up. "Scully, I tracked you 
all the way to Antarctica. I think I can manage."

Scully opened the door to the cab and slipped inside, 
popping her head out the open window. "Keep an eye on 
him--better still, both eyes," she warned Grey, but her lips 
twitched. "And for God's sake, Mulder, don't stick your 
fingers into anything."

Grey snorted. "Got it covered, darlin'. I won't let him out of 
my sight."

Rather than replying, Mulder's mouth snapped shut and he 
watched as the ambulance headed out with a spray of 
gravel.

As they started walking back to the campsite, Mulder 
huffed under his breath. "You know, just once, you could 
back me up instead of egg her on."

Grey pressed a palm to his chest with an exaggerated 
expression of bewilderment. "Me?"

"Yeah, you. While you're not letting me out of your sight 
I'd like to remind you who was right by my side during my 
last, less-than-stellar encounter with nature."

"That's cold, Fox. Seems to me you oughta be glad your 
partner has placed her trust in me to be here for you, to 
back you up in her absence. I know I personally am 
touched by her gesture of faith and--"

"You're touched all right. Look, do you even know what 
we're looking for?"

"Hovering spacecraft and small green men?" When Mulder 
merely quickened his pace, he lifted both hands in a 
pacifying gesture. "Sorry. Just a little paranormal humor."

"Very little."

"In answer to your question, since we're basically out in the 
middle of nowhere, we can't exactly check for power 
outages. So I'm guessing we keep our eyes open for signs 
of extreme heat, especially damage to the treeline and/or 
changes in the soil, the rocks. If you've got a compass we 
can see if there are irregularities in the magnetic field."

Mulder tripped over a tree root and pulled up short, staring 
at him as if he'd grown an extra head. "How...?"

"Been doing a little research on the Net. Even found some 
stuff by this guy who's supposedly an expert. Let's see, 
what was his name..." Grey snapped his fingers. "M. F. 
Luder."

Inwardly smirking, he plastered on the "innocent as the day 
I was born" expression until Mulder continued walking.

The smell hit him long before they reached the small 
clearing--smoke and ash, the aroma of a campfire on a 
warm summer's night. Grey crossed to the cold fire pit, 
then slowly tilted his head back, gaze travelling slowly up 
the leafy boughs of the surrounding trees to their singed 
and blackened tops.

"I'll be damned." His voice sounded weak to his own ears. 
"How'd I miss that?"

"We were focused on the girl." Mulder bent and scooped 
something from the ground. He hissed, dropping it and 
clutching his hand.

Grey jogged to his side. "What's wrong? Did you cut 
yourself?"

Mulder shook his head, tipping his chin toward the object. 
"Not cut. Burned."

Grey trained his flashlight on a small, glossy black stone, 
its surface smooth as highly polished glass. He squatted and 
poked it cautiously with a finger, astonished by the heat it 
radiated. "Let me see your hand."

Mulder extended his arm and uncurled his fingers, tilting 
his hand toward the flashlight's illumination. Grey's breath 
caught at the sight of the angry red blister already forming 
on the palm. "Shit!" Muttering to himself, he dropped his 
pack and quickly found the small first aid kit. 

Mulder peered over Grey's shoulder as he applied antibiotic 
cream and wrapped the hand in gauze. "It's just a little burn, 
nothing to worry about. I'm fine."

Grey snorted. "You think I'm worried about you? It's me 
that's going to catch hell when Dana finds out I broke my 
promise."

"Promise?"

Grey wiggled his fingers in the air. 

Mulder rolled his eyes. "Let's just finish this before the 
cavalry shows up." He pulled a handkerchief from his 
pocket, gingerly wrapped the stone in it, and slipped it into 
his backpack.

Ten minutes ticked by as they canvassed the campsite. 
Grey's back, already stiff from the long hours on the 
ground, began to protest. He straightened with a groan, 
propping hands on hips and stretching, face turned up to the 
stars. With a bittersweet twinge he remembered huddling 
under a blanket with Kate, sipping hot chocolate and 
pointing out constellations.

And then one of the stars moved.

Grey blinked, certain his tired eyes were playing tricks on 
him. The circular pinpoint of light had detached itself from 
a group of stars and looked to be streaking earthward. 
Within seconds it had doubled in size.

"Uh, Fox?"

"Hmm?"

"I..." Grey cleared a suddenly dry throat. The thing was 
closing on them at an alarming pace, growing larger at an 
exponential rate. "I think you oughta take a look at this."

The object was oval, studded with rows of colored lights, 
and
emitted a low-pitched hum. That it was some type of craft 
was now obvious--but what? The odd shape, its incredible 
velocity, the way it moved not only horizontally but 
vertically...it was impossible that such a craft could exist. 

On this planet, anyway.

Alerted by the tone of Grey's voice, Mulder's head snapped 
up. Shock melted quickly into wonder as a broad grin lit up 
his face. He seized Grey's arm, gesturing skyward, triumph 
blazing from his eyes.

"You wanted proof, Bubba? Try that on for size!"  

The spaceship--yes, damn it, what else could you call it?--
now hovered directly above them, blotting out the stars in 
favor of its own twinkling lights. Enormous, its diameter 
easily the size of several football fields, the rumbling buzz 
deafened him. 

Grey tore his eyes away, the gooseflesh stippling his arms 
having nothing to do with the chill night air. "Little brother, 
I will be glad to listen to you say 'I told you so' from here to 
next week. But for now I think we should get the hell out of 
here."

Mulder dropped Grey's sleeve and fumbled with the straps 
on his shoulders. "Are you crazy? Do you know how long 
I've waited for an opportunity like this? This is it, this is 
what we came for, the proof I... SHIT! The video camera 
was in Scully's pack."

"Forget the damn camera, Fox. I've got a very bad feeling 
and I don't think--"

Grey's warning transformed into a gasp as a shaft of 
brilliant, blue-white light shot down from the ship to engulf 
his brother. Fox's eyes, huge in his now pale face, fastened 
onto Grey, and he flung out an arm to grab hold of his 
brother. A gentle pulse, the beam growing momentarily 
brighter, then subsiding, and the arm jerked to a stop. The 
shock, then panic in his Fox's eyes conveyed to Grey that 
he was desperately struggling against some form of 
restraint, yet he remained motionless.

Grey launched himself forward, intending to tackle his 
brother, stunned when he, too, remained solidly in place. 
"NO!"

"Grey! Grey help me! You have to--" The light oscillated 
again and Fox's plea cut off midstream, as if invisible 
fingers had wrapped around his throat.

Grey's limbs, heavy, leaden, could have been stone. He 
grappled with the paralysis, fingers straining toward Fox's 
outstretched arm, but found he could barely blink.

"I can't! Fox, I can't move." His voice cracked with 
frustration and anguish when he could not force his 
traitorous body to obey. "You have to fight, break free from 
the light."

Though his brother's resistance weakened with each 
continuing pulse of light, his expressive eyes remained 
locked onto Grey, eloquently communicating his impotence 
and the plea for help he could no longer utter. The next 
throb flared with greater intensity, as if whatever controlled 
it had grown impatient with Fox's refusal to capitulate. His 
brother's eyes flew open wider, a silent scream, then 
fluttered shut. His head flopped forward and his arms went 
limp.

"Fox!" Grey screamed the name, features twisting into a 
snarl. "Let him go, you bastards! I'll kill you, I swear to 
God. Foooox!"

One final pulse, then the light flared to white-hot radiance, 
slicing through Grey's head like a knife, blinding him. He 
screamed again, this time in agony. Then everything went 
blessedly dark.


Mercy Hospital
Lynchburg, VA
6:42 AM


Scully massaged throbbing temples as she watched Dr. 
Joseph "You Can Call Me Joe" Ramos explain once again 
why a comatose little girl needed a procedure usually 
reserved for the mentally ill. When she could bear Mrs. 
Thompson's weeping and Mr. Thompson's anger no longer, 
Scully turned from the window. 

Having done all she could for Paige and her parents, she 
ached to go home. The weariness bowing her shoulders and 
dragging her feet had as much to do with emotional fatigue 
as physical. One more child on the ever-growing list of 
victims, yet they were no nearer to obtaining the proof they 
needed, nor to finding the means to stop the abductions. 
She sighed. Tonight they'd come so close...

A nurse stopped her as she headed down the corridor 
toward the ICU doors. "Doctor Scully? There's someone 
waiting for you in the lounge. He says it's urgent."

"Thank you." Scully quickened her steps, hoping for a hot 
bath and Mulder in her near future. Her lips quirked. And 
not necessarily in that order. 

Pushing open the swinging doors and walking toward the 
lounge, she spotted a lone figure, head bowed, pacing back 
and forth in front of the windows. Even at a distance she 
could easily identify Grey by his dark, unruly hair. Mulder 
was nowhere in sight.

"If Mulder's gone for coffee there'd better be a cup with my 
name on it. And not that sludge from the machine in the--"

She broke off when Grey's head flew up and he spun to 
face her. One look at the devastation on his features made 
her stomach churn. Shock the doctor in her noted clinically. 
He's in shock.

"Grey?"

He started to speak but the words seemed to catch in his 
throat. "Dana, I..."

"Grey?" She forced her voice to be soft, calm. "Where's 
Mulder?"

He sucked in a breath, wrestling for control, then the words 
tumbled from his lips. "We...There were lights, aôa craft. 
Maybe the same one that brought Paige back, I don't know. 
I saw it, Dana--did you ever think you'd hear me say that? 
I'm actually admitting to seeing a spaceship." His ragged 
laugh carried an edge of hysteria. "Fox wanted to stand 
there and film it, for God's sake. Can you believe it?"

Peripherally, she saw hands that clenched and trembled, 
heard a voice roughened by screams, but all she could 
focus on were his reddened, dazed eyes. And in her heart 
she knew.

"No," she whispered, tears clogging her throat. "Mulder."

Grey's face crumpled and he looked away, blinking hard. "I 
lost him. They took Fox, and I couldn't stop them. He 
begged me to help him, and I couldn't do a damn thing."

"The police--?"

"Arrived just in time to find me passed out cold on the 
ground. They're still out there, searching the woods, even 
though I told them a million times they won't find him. One 
of them drove me here." He pressed the heels of his 
shaking hands into his eyes. "I'm sorry, Dana. I'm so sorry."

Two unsteady steps and she'd wrapped her arms around his 
waist, fingers clutching the soft fabric of his tee shirt. 
Slowly, his arms came down to enfold her. They held on to 
each other that way for a long time. When Scully finally 
released him and stepped back, scanning his face, her eyes 
were red but dry.

Uncomfortable with the scrutiny, Grey walked over to the 
window, hands dangling at his side and shoulders hunched. 
The body language, so similar to another's, twisted the 
dagger in Scully's heart. She drew in a breath and ruthlessly 
shoved the pain aside.

"There are two things I need you to believe, Grey. Without 
question, without compromise. Will you do that for me?"

He nodded without turning around, but she could tell he 
was listening intently.

"First, believe that I don't blame you. You are not 
responsible for what happened to Mulder--it's not your 
fault."

"What's the second thing?" His voice was sandpaper.

Scully walked over and stood beside him, linking their 
fingers and waiting until he met her gaze. 

"We will get him back."

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

Nine weeks later

Chapter 1

Hoover Building
Friday
11:22 PM


Phone cradled between shoulder and chin, one hand jotted 
notes while the other massaged the ache above her right 
temple. After a moment Scully dropped the pencil and just 
listened, eyes slipping shut in resignation.

"You're certain? Did you check private hospitals as well as 
public?"

"Police stations, highway patrol, hospitals, even clinics. No 
one matching Mulder's description--hell, not even a single 
John Doe--has turned up within a fifty mile radius of the 
hot spot." Frohike paused. When he resumed speaking the 
apology in his tone held a crumb of pity.

"Scully--Dana. We're doing everything we can, using every 
resource at our disposal. If he turns up, we'll be the first to 
know it."

"When."

"What?"

"*When* he turns up you'll be first to know."

The pause was longer this time, and Scully could 
practically see the hangdog expression on his face. "Yeah. 
Get some sleep, Scully. We'll be in touch."

Scully replaced the receiver, straightening a stack of papers 
she'd inadvertently displaced and smoothing her palm over 
the file on the blotter. Sightings in the deep woods of 
Michigan's Upper Peninsula--a wild, half human-half beast 
creature Mulder had hoped might prove to be another "New 
Jersey Devil." The open folder lay just as he'd left it--as 
was the sloppy pile of receipts from their last out-of-town 
case, his favorite Knicks cup with a ring of dried coffee 
staining the bottom, and the fresh crop of pencils poking 
out of the ceiling above her head.

Everything just as Mulder had left it, waiting for him to 
return. 

Scully lifted the nameplate from its perch amid the clutter, 
tracing a fingertip over the letters. Her throat ached from 
suppressing the tears burning behind her eyes. Soul-deep 
weariness pressed down upon her, smothering her like a 
heavy blanket. Weariness born of fruitless searching, of 
hopes raised one moment only to be dashed the next. She'd 
spent every spare moment working with Grey and the 
Gunmen, tracking UFO hotspots, calling local police 
departments, hospitals...morgues. Nine weeks and two false 
alarms later, she had only an empty bed and the dark circles 
beneath her eyes to show for her efforts.

A throat cleared, startlingly loud in the silence. Scully 
bolted upright in the chair, fumbling for the nameplate 
when it nearly slipped from her fingers. Skinner stood in 
the doorway, hands shoved into the pockets of his charcoal 
dress pants, tie still pristinely knotted around the neck of a 
crisp white shirt.

"Agent Scully."

"Sir." Scully stood, self-consciously smoothing her skirt. 
"I'm sorry, I didn't hear the elevator. Please, come in."

He walked to the center of the room, eyes roaming over 
newspaper clippings and photos, then sat in the chair on the 
other side of Mulder's desk. When Scully remained 
standing, he gestured for her to reclaim her own seat. She 
lowered herself onto the edge, spine stiff. Realizing her 
fingers still clutched the nameplate, she set it quickly on the 
blotter.

"Was there something you needed, Sir? I was actually on 
my way out the door."

Skinner's raised eyebrow said he doubted the veracity of 
her statement, but he let it slide. "I need to talk to you about 
the future of the X-Files department, Agent Scully, and 
your role in it."

All her alarm bells began clanging. "What are you saying?"

Skinner tightened his lips, a small muscle twitching along 
his jawline. "I'm saying you've run out of time. The brass 
are always looking to shut down the X-Files and now 
Mulder's given them the perfect excuse."

"Mulder was abducted. Against his will. It's hardly his fault 
that he's not here to run the department." She annunciated 
each word with razor sharp precision.

Skinner leaned forward, elbows propped on his knees. 
"That's not how they see it, Scully. To them this is just one 
more instance of Mulder haring off without letting anyone 
know where he's gone. Only this time he hasn't bothered to 
come back."

Scully curled her hands into fists. "That's a lie. Grey was 
there when Mulder was taken, you *heard* his testimony."

"I know. I believe him. Unfortunately, I'm not the one who 
needs to be convinced."

Scully poked her tongue into her cheek and counted to five. 
"I won't let them shut us down, shut Mulder down. I'm 
willing to do whatever it takes to keep the Files open."

Skinner sat back, arms folded across his chest. "Are you 
sure?"

"Yes." She looked at him through narrowed eyes. "Why do 
I get the feeling I'm going to like this even less than what 
you've already said?"

"You've got to get out in the field again, Scully. Start 
investigating X-Files instead of catching up on paperwork 
and loaning yourself out to Quantico."

"I can do that."

"Not without a partner."

His words hit her like a physical blow, a right cross she'd 
never expected. Scully tipped her chin up and offered her 
boss her best steely-eyed glare.

"I have a partner."

"You can't operate in the field without back-up, Agent. 
Mulder bent a lot of rules, but even he couldn't get around 
that one."

"And if I refuse?"

Skinner gritted his teeth. "They close the X-Files and you 
wind up with a teaching position at Quantico. I hear the 
Pathology department has an opening now that Kramer is 
on maternity leave."

Scully closed her eyes. "In other words, I have no choice." 
She opened them and stood, her posture rigidly correct. "I 
hope I at least have some input into which agent you 
choose."

Skinner also stood, eyes softening along with the tone of 
his voice. "Of course. This doesn't have to be a bad thing. 
You've been running yourself ragged trying to handle 
things alone. Another body down here will ease the 
workload, give you more time for...other things."

Scully resisted the urge to turn away. She knew how she 
must look to Skinner--the rumpled suit that hung on her 
small frame since she'd dropped a few pounds, the pallor 
even cosmetics couldn't disguise. Prepared for pity, his next 
words took her completely by surprise.

"My hands may be tied here, Scully, but the Bureau doesn't 
own me once I walk out that door. If there's anything I can 
do, anything at all..."

Intense brown eyes convinced her the offer was genuine. 
Scully's lips curved despite the pain in her chest. "Thank 
you."

Skinner dipped his head and walked to the door. He paused 
in the hallway, one hand on the jamb. "This is temporary, 
Agent Scully. We both know that."

"Yes, sir."

"Get some sleep."

"I will."

After Skinner's footsteps faded down the hallway, she 
operated on autopilot--dumping coffee and rinsing the pot, 
shutting down the computer, packing her briefcase. She'd 
reached the door, finger poised to turn off the lights, when 
a glint of metal caught her eye. Setting down her briefcase, 
she walked slowly back to Mulder's desk. Carefully, 
reverently, she picked up the nameplate from the blotter 
and set it back on the edge of the desk, where it belonged.

Just as he'd left it.

Shouldering her briefcase, she flicked off the lights and 
locked the door.


1616 Buckingham Drive
Bethesda 
11:58 PM
 
He squinted under the abrupt flare of the porch light, 
blinking eyes gritty from too much driving and too little 
sleep. Kristen pushed open the screen door and stood aside, 
smothering a yawn with the back of one hand. Her voice 
was rusty with sleep.

"I thought you weren't coming until the morning."

Grey squeezed past her and set his duffel on the tile. 
"Thought you'd be glad to see me." He shook his head with 
mock regret. "I guess the thrill really is gone."

She chuckled throatily and slid into his arms. Her lips were 
warm and firm, her body soft where it molded to his. Grey 
nuzzled skin smelling faintly of lavender, smiling.

"Then again..."

Kristen stepped back, evading his grasping hands. She 
scrutinized his face, brow furrowing. "It's not you showing 
up early, it's what it took to get you here." She brushed the 
flesh beneath his eye with a fingertip. "You're exhausted, 
Grey. It's crazy to make that trip running on fumes. You 
could have fallen asleep at the wheel, driven into a truck."

He snagged the silky sleeve of her robe and she allowed 
him to draw her back into an embrace with minimal protest. 
Grey ducked his head to rest his chin on her shoulder, 
releasing a gusty sigh.

"I'm here and I'm in one piece. Can we just, please, leave it 
at that?"

Kristen must have heard something in his voice. One hand 
tightened around his waist while the other came up to 
stroke through his hair. "Talk to me."

He smiled into her neck. "Okay. Anything in particular 
you'd like me to talk about?"

"Grey."

"Could I have a glass of water first?"

She chuffed and wriggled out of his arms, hooking his 
fingers with her own and leading him down the hallway to 
the kitchen. Grey leaned up against the counter while she 
filled a glass with ice and water. Placing it into his hand 
with a flourish, she propped herself up beside him, arms 
laced across her chest.

Grey drained the glass, set it down, and wiped his mouth 
with the back of his hand. Very aware of Kristen's patient 
but expectant silence, he sucked in a deep breath and 
scrubbed his face with both hands.

"It's been more than nine weeks."

Her shoulder nestled more firmly against his. "I know."

"Nine weeks and we're not a damn bit closer to finding 
him." He shook his head. "This isn't working, Kris. 
Something has to change."

"I know how frustrated you are. Dana isn't doing any 
better--whenever I see her at work, she's on edge. I just 
don't see what you can do that you aren't already doing."

"I could be spending a hell of a lot more time looking for 
him." Grey growled the words through clenched teeth.

"Sweetheart, ease up on yourself. You're already burning 
the candle at both ends. No one knows better than I how 
hard you've tried to find Fox. But there aren't enough hours 
in the day for you to do your job and spend any more time 
on this."

"I know. That's why I'm not going to be doing my job."

Kristen's head whipped around, shock written in her eyes. 
"What?"

"As of 6:00 PM this evening I'm on an indefinite leave of 
absence." Grey showed her a toothy smile. "Mind if I stay a 
little longer than just the weekend?"

"You... Grey are you sure you've thought this through?"

"Of course I have. If I can't stay here I'll camp out on Fox 
and Dana's couch."

"Damn it, Grey!"

He stepped away from the counter and turned to face her. 
"Did you hear what I said, Kris? It's been *nine* weeks and 
Fox is still out there, somewhere, going through God 
knows what. This isn't working. Something had to change, 
so damn it, *I*did."

She flinched a little at the controlled anger. "I'm not 
questioning the urgency of finding your brother. I'm an FBI 
agent and well aware of the statistics: the longer someone is 
missing greater the odds they won't be found alive. But this 
is your job we're talking about, a job you love. How long 
will they be willing to wait?"

"I don't give a shit." When Kristen merely looked at him 
with compassion, his shoulders slumped. "Everything will 
work out. Mark will hold down the fort for me and frankly, 
I'm too good at what I do for them not to take me back."

He snatched the empty water glass and took it to the sink. 
Bracing his palms on the counter, he stared at a swath of 
stars through the small window. "I owe him this, Kris. I 
was right there, and I did *nothing*. Whatever it takes, I'm 
going to get him back."

Arms slid around his waist and warmth pressed against his 
spine. "Why don't you bring in your other bags? I'll make 
some room in my closet and dresser."

His chin dropped to his chest and his lips curved. "I love 
you."

He felt her smile against the back of his neck. "Back at ya. 
Now go get those bags so we can both get some sleep."

Grey covered her hands with his own. "That sounds good, 
darlin'. That sounds real good."

Three weeks later

Georgetown
Thursday
7:22 PM


The front door slammed. Grey's hand jerked the cup 
halfway to his lips, sloshing water onto his lap. Cursing, he 
reluctantly abandoned the computer and walked into the 
kitchen for a towel. Scully was already there, hosing down 
a pair of black pumps over the sink. Brows knit together, 
lips compressed to a thin, bloodless line, she scrubbed at 
the shoes with short, harsh strokes.

Grey picked up a towel and mopped off the front of his 
shirt. "Hey, darlin'. How was your day?"

Scully blew a wisp of hair from her face. "I'm partnered 
with an incompetent idiot, how the hell do you think my 
day was?"

"That good, huh?"

"Callahan didn't think it was necessary to hold on to the 
suspect, since he was already cuffed. 'C'mon, Agent Scully, 
how far could the guy get?'" She mimicked her temporary 
partner's nasal twang with deadly accuracy.

Grey surveyed her mud-splattered shoes, suit, and face. 
"Pretty far, I take it."

"Nearly a mile. Across a field roughly the consistency of 
chocolate pudding. Turns out the guy went to college on a 
track scholarship. That, of course, was years before he 
started passing himself off as a faith healer and conning a 
lot of desperate people." She dried her hands on his towel, 
leaving the shoes in the sink.

Grey took it back and wiped a smudge of dirt from her 
cheek. "So, I take it Callahan has joined the ranks of the X-
Files undead?"

Scully pursed her lips and shouldered past him, heading 
into the bedroom. "Three people can hardly be considered 
an army, Grey, and that's not funny."

Grey resumed his seat at the computer, raising his voice to 
be heard. "It's just that I don't think Walt intended the 
selection of Fox's stand-in to turn into an episode of 
Survivor."

Silence.

"What the hell kind of crack is that?"

He swiveled his chair, facing her. She leaned in the 
doorway, brow furrowed and teeth clenched. Now minus 
suit jacket and hose, she held a bath towel in one hand. 
Grey mentally chastised himself for poking an already 
pissed woman licensed to carry a weapon. Sighing, he dug 
the hole deeper.

"Dana, I'm only suggesting that you may not exactly be 
keeping an entirely open mind." He winced at his wishy-
washy delivery. "I mean, c'mon. They can't all be that bad."

"Bad? Adams only cared about staying in one piece till 
retirement, Parkinson couldn't think outside the box if his 
life depended on it, Callahan refused to take any kind of 
direction--I'm telling you, Grey, they were all hopeless! 
None of them were X-Files material, none of them 
were...were--"

"Fox."

The quietly uttered name sucked the wind from her sails. 
Shock and grief twisted her mouth and glistened in her 
eyes. She quickly regained control, lips relaxing, the tight 
lines around her eyes and mouth easing, but Grey could see 
the effort it cost.

She tipped up her chin, voice brittle. "You're putting words 
in my mouth."

Grey shook his head. "I'm putting voice to what's already in 
your heart." He got up, walked over, and stood in front of 
her, ducking his head to look into her eyes. "Darlin', we 
both know Fox Mulder is one of a kind. So how 'bout you 
stop using him as the blueprint for that job description?"

"You don't understand." The protest started strong but 
faded to a whisper.

"What? That sharing the office again is harder than being 
alone? Or that it just about kills you every time you turn 
and see the person watching your back isn't Fox?"

Her breath hitched and her face crumpled. His own chest 
tight, Grey drew her over to the couch and took her into his 
arms. Hands fisted in his tee shirt, tears hot against his 
neck, her small body trembled with repressed sobs. Grey 
swallowed the bitter taste of his own guilt and held on, 
shushing her with murmured words of comfort that rang 
hollow to his own ears.

Eventually she sat up, fingers swiping at the tear tracks on 
her cheeks. Her eyes dodged his, resting on a wet and 
muddy spot beneath the collar of his shirt, and she 
grimaced.

"Sorry."

"Not a problem. 'S why God invented washing machines." 
Grey dropped his head onto the back of the couch. "I miss 
him, too."

Dana tensed, then relaxed into his side, head on his 
shoulder. "Did Mulder ever tell you how we came to be 
partners?"

Grey smiled up at the ceiling. "He said the smoking man 
sent you to spy on him, to shut him down. But you turned 
around and kicked the bastard's skinny excuse for an ass 
instead."

A glimmer of amusement crept past the weariness in her 
voice. "Sounds like Mulder." A pause, and she continued, 
pensive. "I never intended to do their dirty work for them. 
I'd joined the FBI hoping to distinguish myself. Agreeing to 
take on the X-Files was supposed to be just a stepping 
stone to bigger and better things."

"Don't know how to break this to you, but nine years is a 
helluva big stepping stone."

"Tell me about it."

"What happened?"

"Fox Mulder happened." She exhaled through her nose. "I'd 
heard all about him, of course. Mulder was a legend in his 
own time."

"For his profiling abilities."

She nodded. "And for torpedoing his own career. There he 
was, the golden boy, destined to become the Bureau's 
youngest A.D., and he chucks it all to chase aliens. Half the 
agents I knew pitied him; the other half made him the 
punchline of a lot of cruel jokes."

"Not exactly good company for someone climbing the 
ladder to success."

"Very true. But...I was intrigued. And maybe a little 
arrogant. After all, I'd dazzled my professors, my fellow 
students at the academy." She laughed quietly to herself. "I 
figured I'd walk into that basement office and dazzle Fox 
Mulder, too."

"Way I heard it, that's just what you did."

Scully snorted. "That's not exactly how I remember it. 'So 
who did you tick off to get stuck with this detail, Scully?'" 
She mimicked Mulder's dry delivery, then huffed. "I 
walked away from that first meeting equally impressed and 
annoyed. He was every bit as brilliant as I'd been told, and 
twice as irritating."

Grey chuckled. "I hear you. We didn't exactly hit it off in 
the beginning either." His grin turned wistful. "He kinda 
grows on you, though."

"He won me over on our very first case. I'd never known 
anyone so passionate about his beliefs. All that fire and 
enthusiasm--he was a vortex I couldn't help but be sucked 
into. When he opened up to me one night, confided in me 
about his sister, I began to understand. I couldn't give 
credence to his certainty that aliens had abducted 
Samantha. But I felt he deserved to know the truth, and I 
was confident I could help him discover it."

She sighed. "It was a journey I undertook willingly, if a bit 
naively."

"One that came at a high price."

"Higher than I ever could have imagined."

"Regrets?"

Her lips curved but her eyes welled up. "I once told Mulder 
I wouldn't change a day."

Grey shuddered theatrically. "Flukemen? Liver-eating 
mutants? You sure about that?"

He got the raised eyebrow, then Dana sighed again. 
"Anyway, you've made your point. Whomever Skinner 
sends to replace Callahan...well...I'll try not to set the bar so 
high."

Silence grew between them. Despite his reluctance to 
extract his weary body from the soft cushions, Grey hauled 
himself upright. "When was the last time you consumed 
anything but coffee or diet soda?"

Dana lifted one shoulder, also getting to her feet. "I've 
eaten."

"Really? See, where I come from half a bagel or a cup of 
yogurt don't count."

Dana's blank expression transformed to a scowl. "That little 
sneak. Is that why she keeps dropping by my office? 
You've got her spying on me?"

Grey held up both hands. "This is Kristen we're talking 
about. No one 'gets' her to do anything unless she damn 
well wants to." He shrugged. "She's worried about you. 
Now why don't you clean up and I'll fix us something to 
eat?"

"Speaking of Kristen--won't she be expecting you? I don't 
need a babysitter, Grey. I'm capable of feeding myself." 
She flushed when Grey folded his arms and deliberately 
looked her up and down.

"All evidence to the contrary, darlin'. Kris is working late 
tonight, which is why I came over here to use the computer. 
Besides, I figured maybe you'd like a little company. You 
telling me you're gonna make me eat dinner alone?" 

Scully rolled her eyes, lips twitching. "Oh, God, not the 
pout. Mulder always..." She caught herself, blinking hard.

Grey moved toward the kitchen, giving her space. "You've 
got twenty minutes. Not sure what I'm cooking, but I 
guarantee it'll be ready by then."

True to his word, twenty minutes later Scully walked into a 
kitchen filled with the aroma of eggs and freshly brewed 
coffee. 

"Smells good," she said, taking her usual seat at the table.

Grey set a piping hot omelet and a mug in front of her 
before retrieving his own food and claiming a seat across 
the table. When she dug into her meal with increasing 
enthusiasm, a smug smile tugged the corners of his mouth.

Scully looked away when she caught him gloating, a 
distinctly sheepish expression on her face. "I guess I was 
hungrier than I realized."

"Glad to hear it."

They ate in companionable silence. When he'd finished, 
Grey shoved back his chair and stretched out long legs, 
fingers laced across the back of his neck. Stomach full, 
fatigue descended with a vengeance, weighting his eyelids 
and fuzzing his head.

"You know, you're a fine one to be delivering lectures. Just 
how much sleep have you gotten lately?"

His eyes popped open and he straightened, smothering the 
yawn that tried to sneak past his lips. "I've slept."

She pursed her lips. "About as much as I've eaten, I'd 
imagine."

"It's not the same."

"Really?" Sarcasm dripped from the word. "All evidence to 
the contrary."

His brows drew together and his tone became sharp. 
"You've been deliberately skipping meals, Dana. If I'm 
short on sleep, it's not for lack of trying." 

Mentally berating himself for revealing too much, Grey 
snatched up both their plates and carried them to the sink. 
He turned the water on hot, scrubbing egg and dried cheese 
from the porcelain and ignoring the scrape of her chair 
across the tile.

"Grey."

She touched his arm, stilling the frenetic movements. He 
released a long breath but didn't object when she reached 
around him to shut off the water.

"Why didn't you tell me you were having trouble 
sleeping?"

"Why didn't you tell me you'd dropped five pounds?" He 
bit back the anger she didn't deserve, voice gentling. 
"Anyway, falling asleep is not the problem."

"Nightmares."

"Oh yeah."

"Scale of one to ten?"

Her voice wavered a little and he abruptly wondered how 
often she and Fox had played out this scene. He forced a 
chuckle into his reply.

"I'd give 'em a thirteen--unless practically assaulting your 
bed-partner ranks a lot lower than I think."

Scully didn't have a comeback for that one. Instead she 
placed a dishtowel into his hands and nudged him aside, 
filling the sink with soapy water. But he wasn't off the hook 
yet.

"You're dreaming about Mulder's abduction?"

Grey really, *really* didn't want to talk about this. But how 
could he ask her to bare her soul and then hold back? He 
ran the towel over a slippery plate with more care than 
necessary, searching for the words.

"Sometimes. Nothing earth shattering there--he's screaming 
for help and I'm... You don't have to point out the irony, by 
the way. Three years of listening to Fox relive Samantha's 
abduction and now I get hands-on experience."

"We've been through this, Grey. There was nothing you 
could have done." When he concentrated all his attention 
on polishing a plate she poked him with her elbow. "Do 
you hold Mulder responsible for what happened to 
Samantha?"

"'Course not."

She gestured with a sudsy hand--*Well, then?*

"He was a twelve-year-old kid. I, on the other hand, am a 
supposedly competent professional law enforcement--"

"Yadda."

Grey choked. "Yadda?"

"As in yeah, yeah, sure, fine, whatever." Dana dried her 
hands, oblivious that she sounded exactly like Fox. 

A line formed between her brows. "You said *sometimes* 
you dream about Mulder being taken. What else are the 
nightmares about?"

Shit. He so did not want to go there. Images flashed 
through his mind--Fox strapped to a metal table in a stark 
white room, laid out like some alien science project. 
Huddled in a ball on the floor, rocking, all signs of that 
incredible intellect wiped from his blank face and dead 
eyes. Dropped into a remote field in a godforsaken stretch 
of no man's land, limp, cold...lifeless. 

Exhaustion short-circuited his poker face. Grey saw his 
own horror creep into her eyes. He'd opened his mouth, 
wanting to reassure, wanting to deny, when the phone rang.

Scully scooped it up and disappeared into the other room. 
Grateful for the reprieve, Grey finished drying the dishes 
and put them into the cupboard. He was debating whether 
to dump the remaining coffee when Dana's voice pierced 
his sleep-deprived fog. Tossing aside the dishcloth, he 
bolted for the living room.

Scully was jotting something on a legal pad, the phone in a 
white-knuckled grip. "How sure are you?...Damn it, don't 
patronize me! We've been down this road before--more 
than once--and I...I'm not sure I can handle another 
disappointment, Melvin. How sure are you?"

She looked up at Grey as she listened. His heart stuttered at 
the flicker of hope in her wide blue eyes.

"I'll drive out there tonight...No, there's no sense all of us 
going, we don't even know for certain it's him...I won't be 
alone. 
Grey--?" He nodded emphatically. "--Grey will come with 
me. We'll call as soon as we know anything." Whatever the 
little man said next caused her eyes to fill. "I will."

Scully hung up the phone and looked at Grey.

"The boys located a John Doe in a hospital in Farmville, 
Virginia. That's less than thirty miles from Holiday Lake 
State Park. He fits Mulder's description."

Grey swallowed, his throat dry as sandpaper. "Condition?"

"Unconscious. The rest is sketchy."

Grey studied her face. "There's something else you haven't 
told me. Something that has you believing it's him."

"The doctor wouldn't tell Frohike much, but he did mention 
something odd. When the John Doe turned up he was 
holding something in his right hand. They could barely pry 
it from his fingers."

"What was it?"

"Some kind of unusual rock. Smooth and polished, like 
black glass. The doctor couldn't figure out why Mulder 
would be clutching it so tightly." She leaned in closer. "It 
was warm, Grey. Almost too warm to touch."

The stuttering in his chest became a jackhammer. "Let's 
go."


Chapter 3


Southside Community Hospital
Farmville, VA
7:13 AM


Three phone calls, a four-hour road trip, one intern, and 
five nurses later, Scully paced the small waiting room. 
Arriving at the hospital in the middle of the graveyard shift, 
they'd slogged their way through a string of medical 
personnel, eventually landing here to wait for the doctor. 
Her back ached from the uncomfortable car seat, her eyes 
burned after a sleepless night, and her stomach churned 
with emptiness and apprehension. Grey's quiescence as he 
sat hunched over on the small couch irrationally irritated 
her, like salt in an open wound.

"How can you be so calm?"

She wanted to snatch back the rebuke when he lifted his 
head to reveal bloodshot eyes. "Don't pay any attention to 
the man behind the curtain," he replied, then shook his head 
with wry amusement. "It's all an illusion. I'm dyin' here, 
Dana. It was either sit down or throw up."

Her lips twitched and the tight muscles in her shoulders 
eased a bit. "Wise choice."

A doctor stopped at the nurses' station, conferred briefly, 
and strode toward them. Scully met him halfway, Grey on 
her heels.

"Doctor Hammond?" She offered her hand, transfixed and 
a bit disconcerted by the man's uncanny resemblance to her 
father.

"Doctor Scully, I presume." His clasp was warm and firm, 
his gaze direct. "And Detective Mckenzie?"

Grey nodded as his hand received the same treatment.

"Sorry to keep you waiting, I came as soon as I could. Your 
friend, Mr. Frohike, indicated you might know the identity 
of our John Doe?"

Scully steadied her voice. "We're hoping he's my husband, 
Fox Mulder. He was abducted from this area over three 
months ago."

"The description does seem to match. Some hikers 
stumbled across our man about forty minutes from here, in 
Bear Creek State Park. We're one of the better-equipped 
hospitals in this area, so they brought him here. He was 
naked when they found him, and has yet to regain 
consciousness. Lacking any means of identifying him, I 
was forced to turn the matter over to the sheriff's 
department. They'd planned to run his fingerprints, before 
you called."

"Could we see him?"

Hammond smiled, his brown eyes warm. "Of course. Right 
this way."

Scully's vision narrowed to the impossibly long corridor 
stretching before her, the routine hospital bustle, and even 
Grey's presence, fading to peripheral awareness. On some 
level she registered he and Hammond making polite 
conversation but the words were an unintelligible drone. 
When they finally stepped into the ICU, Grey's arm slipped 
around her shoulders.

Hammond led them to the farthest cubicle and drew aside 
the privacy curtain.

"Oh my God."

She stared at Mulder's pale, thin face, mesmerized, until a 
rush of tears blurred it and her legs buckled. Blinking 
furiously, she broke free from Grey and crossed to the bed.

"Mulder."

Three months, two false alarms, and countless dead ends. 
She had to touch, to know he was real. Scully smoothed her 
palm down his stubbled cheek, brushed the pad of her 
thumb over dry, cracked lips, stroked her fingertips through 
matted, dark hair. Mulder lay unresponsive, warm skin and 
beeping machinery the only indications he remained 
tethered to life.

Hammond cleared his throat. "Our mystery man is your 
husband." 

"What is his condition?"

The doctor plucked Mulder's chart from the end of the bed. 
"When we admitted him, he was suffering from 
malnutrition, dehydration, and the early stages of exposure. 
We've restored core body temperature, rehydrated him, and 
started him on hyperalimentation through a central line. He 
should be graduating to the step down unit later today. I'd 
have moved him earlier, but had hoped he'd awaken first."

"Why hasn't he?" Grey's quiet question beat Scully to the 
punch. He'd circled to the opposite side of the bed and 
leaned on the rail, eyes locked onto his brother's face.

Hammond flipped the chart shut. "I wish I had an answer 
for you. The toxicology screen was negative, there's no 
external indication of head trauma, and his CT scan was 
clean. I can find no physical cause for this persistent state 
of unconsciousness. It's almost as if..."

"As if?" Scully prompted when Hammond showed no sign 
of finishing the cryptic statement.

Hammond sighed. "As if he doesn't want to wake up. 
Doctor Scully, you and I both know the mind wields great 
power over healing. Perhaps this is a subconscious method 
of self-protection."

Scully bit the inside of her cheek, ruthlessly tamping down 
the images that rose to mind, refusing to contemplate the 
horrors Mulder might have endured. 

"Doctor Hammond, Mr. Frohike may have mentioned that 
my husband and I are agents with the Federal Bureau of 
Investigation. As part of the inquiry into his abduction, I'll 
need you to run some additional tests."

"Such as?"

"Blood samples to be sent to our labs in DC, an MRI, x-
rays--"

Hammond's raised a hand. "X-rays?"

"In cases similar to Agent Mulder's, victims have been 
returned with metal chips implanted in their bodies."

"Chips?" His eyebrows soared. "As in computer chips?"

"Something like that. At any rate, it's imperative that we 
determine whether Agent Mulder is carrying any such 
devices."

Hammond inclined his head. "Let's get him settled in the 
step-down unit. We'll proceed from there."

"Thank you."

"You're welcome." Hammond turned toward the door. "I'm 
late for rounds, so--"

"Of course. Please don't let us keep you." Scully sat on the 
edge of the bed, taking Mulder's hand. Following her lead, 
Grey hooked a chair with is foot and sat, folding his arms 
comfortably across his chest.

The slight curve to Hammond's mouth said he'd received 
the message, loud and clear. "Cindy is Agent Mulder's 
nurse." Hammond indicated a young woman with close-
cropped, strawberry-blonde hair working behind the desk. 
"If you have any questions or concerns, I'm sure she'll be 
happy to help you."

Once Hammond left, Grey reached out a tentative hand and 
covered his brother's. His voice rasped with emotion. "I 
haven't seen him this thin since--"

"Don't, Grey. We have him back; he's safe. We'll deal with 
the rest." 

She smoothed back long, tangled strands of hair that 
tumbled across Mulder's brow and down his neck, leaning 
closer to murmur in his ear. "Do you hear me, Mulder? 
You're safe now. Wherever you've gone, it's time to come 
back." She pressed a kiss to his forehead, his mouth, then 
laid her head carefully on his chest. 


10:43 AM

"Grey? You still there, man?"

Grey's head snapped up and his eyes flew open. He 
scrambled for the receiver, catching it before it hit the 
linoleum, and tucked it against his ear.

"I'm awa--here, I'm here." He swigged a mouthful of tepid 
coffee, grimacing. "What was that you were saying?"

Langly snorted. "Dude, you are in serious need of pillow 
time. I asked if you were sure we shouldn't come down 
there. We could, you know, check out the hospital more 
thoroughly, make sure everything's on the up and up."

What an image. Grey choked, nearly inhaling coffee. "Ahh, 
no, no, that's not necessary. We'd, um, rather you guys stay 
put, you know, in case we need you to, uh, track 
down...stuff."

"Can do. Just keep us posted on the G-man."

"We will."

Grey hung up the phone with a jaw-cracking yawn. Langly 
was right about one thing--he desperately needed sleep. 
Dozing off while talking to the Gunmen on a payphone 
clearly proved he'd lost his edge.

He navigated a maze of hallways until he located Dana just 
outside an area labeled "Diagnostic Imaging." Propped 
against the wall, eyes closed, she looked as exhausted as he 
felt.

"Hey."

Her eyes popped open as he leaned beside her. "Did you 
reach the boys?"

"Yup. They'd already done a full background check on Dr. 
Hammond. He's squeaky clean, in case you were 
wondering."

"That's good to know, but I expected it. I don't think 
Spender or his associates had anything to do with what's 
happened to Mulder."

"For once." Grey ground the heels of his hands into gritty 
eyes. "All three of them were ready to hop on the next 
plane out. I, uh, discouraged that plan."

Scully huffed, half amusement, half dismay. "And for that 
I'm eternally grateful. We've got enough on our hands 
without throwing those three into the mix."

"You spoke to Walt?"

"Briefly. Kim hunted him down between meetings. He 
promised he'd alert the lab to expect Mulder's blood 
samples and run interference with the local sheriff's office. 
We're to keep him posted on...Mulder's condition." She 
uttered the last two words around a yawn. "Sorry."

"Don't be. I'm not exactly firing on all cylinders myself." 
Grey's head smacked the wall with a soft thud. "We're both 
running on fumes, Dana. We can't function much longer 
without sleep."

Her body stiffened. "I'm not leaving him alone."

"I'm not suggesting we should. The boys booked us a room 
in a nearby motel. Once Fox is done here and settled in his 
new digs, we can spell each other. One of us will always be 
with him."

Her grudging nod was a pleasant surprise--he'd expected an 
argument. When she did speak, after several minutes of 
silence, her voice vibrated with tension.

"I'm afraid of what they're going to find."

Grey had to search hard for a comforting response. 
"Hammond said the CT scan was clean."

"That was just his head. They're doing a full body MRI 
now, a much more exhaustive test. And frankly, Grey, 
these people don't know what the hell to look for, not like 
we do."

Grey nudged her shoulder with his. " We have him back; 
he's safe. We'll deal with the rest."

She gave him a glare usually reserved for his brother, but 
leaned into his support. "I just hope--"

Shouts and scuffling feet, an eruption of barked orders and 
frantic activity came from across the hall. One voice 
pierced the clamor, terrified and desolate.

"NO! No more! No more!"

"Mulder!" Scully launched herself across the corridor, 
nearly colliding with Dr. Hammond when he appeared in 
the doorway.

"Doctor Scully, we need you in here. NOW."

Grey darted after them as they ran into the room. 
Controlled chaos assaulted his senses. A technician 
furiously punched buttons, shutting down the equipment, 
while two nurses struggled to restrain his thrashing brother, 
who had already managed to tear out his I.V.

Out of his head with fear, Fox twisted and bucked, arms 
flailing and feet kicking as he screamed in protest. "Get 
your fucking hands off me, you sadistic little bastards! I 
won't let you put me back in there. No more! No more!"

"We were in the middle of the test when he woke up." 
Hammond bellowed over the din. "We've tried to talk to 
him, but he's not responding."

Scully shouldered her way past a nurse draped across 
Mulder's body, holding him down. She caught his head 
between her palms, throat constricting at his flushed, 
sweaty face and huge, panic-stricken eyes.

"Mulder, it's Scully. Stop struggling, you need to calm 
down."

To her astonishment, he squeezed his eyes tightly shut and 
turned his head away. His hoarse voice shook with emotion 
and tears trickled down the sides of his face. "Don't do this, 
I know it's not real. Let me die this time. Please. Just let me 
die."

White-lipped with shock, Scully could barely choke out 
words of comfort. "Mulder, it's all right. You're safe; no 
one's going to hurt you. They just need to--"

"NO!" Mulder wrenched free of her grasp, fighting with 
renewed fury. "This is not real; *you're* not real! Let me 
go!"

From the corner of her eye, Scully saw Hammond bare 
Mulder's hip for the nurse, hanging on while she injected 
him. Mulder's struggles slowly weakened, his body stilling 
and eyelids fluttering. Fingers fumbled, then latched onto 
Scully's sleeve and she looked into weary, pain-filled eyes.

"Please..." His eyes slid shut and his body sagged, fingers 
falling limply from her arm. 

No one moved. Finally, Hammond turned and conferred in 
hushed tones with the nurse holding the syringe. The other, 
still draped over Mulder's inert form, straightened, patting 
Scully's arm before carefully arranging Mulder into a more 
comfortable position and gathering materials to start a new 
I.V.

"What the hell was that?" Grey had backed into the corner, 
arms wrapped around his body and face ashen.

Scully smoothed her fingertips over Mulder's damp cheek, 
then reluctantly tore her attention from him. She sucked in 
a deep breath. "I'm not sure, but I think it was some kind of 
flashback."

"I've never seen him...Dana, he didn't know who you 
were."

She bit her lip. Mulder's heartbreaking plea still rang in her 
ears. "He recognized me, Grey. He just didn't believe."

"We're going to go ahead with the scan, Dr. Scully, as well 
as the x-rays." Hammond handed Mulder's chart to the 
nurse and joined them. "Given his reaction, I think it's best 
we complete the tests while he's asleep."

"What was your first clue?" Grey muttered it under his 
breath.

Hammond, sensing Grey's distress, just smiled. "The 
Ativan should keep him under for at least an hour, so we'll 
avoid traumatizing him any further."

"Thank you."

Scully watched Mulder's body slide back into the tube, the 
machine whirring to life. The adrenaline rush dissipated, 
leaving her exhausted and overwhelmed by the road ahead.

*What did they do to you, Mulder? And how in God's 
name are we going to make it right?*


Chapter 4


Southside Community Hospital
Friday
12:32 PM


*She awakens to kisses, soft lips caressing eyelids, cheeks--
even the sensitive skin behind her right ear. Mind still 
cloudy and sluggish with sleep, her body responds 
instinctively, melting into his touch. His face hovers just 
above hers, a pale moon in the darkness.

"Mmm, Mulder. What time is it?" She stretches her arms 
above her head, deliberately provocative, enjoying the way 
his eyes darken and his hand creeps up the exposed skin of 
her thigh.

"Time to put a beach blanket and all that moonlight to good 
use."

His tongue trails heat down her neck and between her 
breasts, then he twines his fingers with hers and stands. 
He's wearing boxers, she realizes, and has a blanket tucked 
beneath one arm.

"Mulder?" 

Questioning is second nature, but she lets him tug her 
upright. Enfolded in his arms, the feel of his desire kindles 
her own. She opens to him, losing herself in the rough glide 
of tongues, the sweet press of lips.

"I want to make love to you under the stars, to the sound of 
the waves." He murmurs the words against her mouth; she 
feels his smile.

Her body agrees, but she musters a token protest. "Rosaô"

"Is sound asleep." He chuffs into her ear, sending tingles 
down her spine. "Anyway, I think she'd approve." He steps 
away until only their hands remain linked. His thumb 
strokes the back of her hand; the love shining in his eyes 
steals her breath. "Please, Scully."

She's mesmerized by the delicate touch, imagining she can 
feel each whorl on the pad of his thumb. 
Strokingôstrokingô*

Scully's eyes flew open. She'd pulled her chair close to 
Mulder's bed and laid her head on the mattress, intending 
to rest only a moment. Her stiff back and dry mouth 
suggested it had been significantly longer.

She straightened with a groan, elusive dream fragments 
still flickering through her thoughts. Remembering that 
beautiful night on the beach, her heart ached with loss. The 
waves' soothing whispers, the brilliance of a million stars, 
the glide of Mulder's skin--

Mulder's fingers twitched, his thumb tickling the back of 
her hand. Scully lunged to her feet, nearly topping the 
chair. She tightened her grip on the restless digits, 
reaching over and cupping his cheek.

"Mulder?"

Her spirits soared when he leaned into the touch. Lashes 
fluttering, his tongue poked out, moistening dry lips.

"Come on, love. Wake up."

Eyelids cracked, he squinted against the harsh fluorescent 
lighting. For a moment his gaze held no recognition, then 
the corners of his mouth curved.

"Heô" He swallowed, then tried again. "Hey, Scully."

The ragged, sandpapery rasp, though far from his mellow 
baritone, sang in her ears. Scully blinked furiously, smile 
quivering.

"Hey."

"Thirsty."

She reached for the water pitcher, pouring a small amount 
into the plastic cup. "Go easy, Mulder. Just a couple 
swallows, for now." 

He let her hold the cup, too weak to protest. A line formed 
between his brows. "Hospital?"

She nodded, words blocked by the lump in her throat.

The crease deepened. "Sorry."

Scully smoothed a lock of hair back from his face with a 
watery little chuckle. "Sorry? For what?"

"Must've done somethingôreally stupid."

"You don't remember?"

He shook his head, wincing when the motion caused pain.

Scully ignored the sudden, jittery feeling in her gut. 
"Mulder, what's the last thing you do remember?"

He chewed on his lip for a moment. "We were waiting for 
somethingôGrey was thereôTreesôForest?" He groaned. 
"Oh, God. Not again." When Scully didn't speak, he 
became very still. "That wasn't the right answer, was it?"

She looked away, searching for the right words. "A lot has 
happened. I'm not sure now is the best time--"

His heartbeat picked up and his fingers clamped painfully 
over hers. "Why not? Scully, what's going on? I deserve to 
know." He pushed himself up on one elbow but could get no 
further.

Scully helped him lay back down, rubbing soothing circles 
on his chest. "Calm down, Mulder, of course you do; I'll 
explain everything. Just--"

"Well, well. Good to see you awake, Agent Mulder." 
Hammond strode into the room, Mulder's chart in his 
hands. "How are you feeling?"

"Like the morning after the night before." Mulder locked 
his gaze with Scully's for a long moment before rolling his 
head toward the doctor.

Hammond chuckled. "Considering your condition when you 
arrived, I guess that'd be just about right."

"Mulder, this is Dr. Hammond. He's been supervising your 
care." Scully jumped in, recognizing Mulder entering 
"interrogator" mode. "Dr. Hammond, Mulder apparently 
has someôgaps in his memory."

"Gaps big enough to drive a bus through. Which Scully was 
about to fill." Mulder's voice faded in and out, succumbing 
to the strain. "What's wrong with me? Why am I here? And 
while you're at it, *where* is here?"

"How about we stop a minute to take inventory? Then I'm 
sure your wife and I can answer your questions."

Mulder muttered something under his breath but submitted 
to Hammond's examination. When the doctor had checked 
his pulse, blood pressure, and pupil response, he tucked the 
chart under his arm and smiled.

"Coming along. You've improved greatly over the last 24 
hours."

Mulder gritted his teeth. "Glad to hear it. Now, who's going 
to catch me up on what I've missed?"

Scully turned to the physician. "Dr. Hammond, if you're 
finished for now, I'd like some time alone with my 
husband."

Hammond inclined his head. "Very well. I'll be back when 
we have the test results. Otherwise, you can page me if you 
need me."

"Thank you." When the door snicked shut, she propped her 
arms on the mattress. "Mulder, do you remember Paige 
Thompson?"

Understanding lit his eyes. "The little girl who was 
abducted! *That's* why we were in the woods." His brow 
furrowed. "We waited a long time, almost gave up. But 
thenôwe found her, didn't we?"

"Yes, we did. Do you remember what happened after that?"

He scrutinized her face. "She was comatose, like the other 
kids. Youôyou rode to the hospital with her."

"That's right."

"Grey and I stayed behind. We wanted to go over the scene 
before the local boys showed up."

Scully waited. When he didn't continue, she prodded 
gently. "And then?"

He kneaded his forehead with shaky fingers. "We walked 
back to the campsite. It smelled like ash; the tops of the 
trees had burned. I was checking the magnetic field and 
Grey--" 

He jerked, hand shooting out and grasping the rail.

"Mulder?"

"Oh my God." He panted, short, sharp gulps for air, his 
eyes squeezed shut.

Scully smoothed back his hair. "Talk to me, Mulder."

"There was a spaceshipôbright light. I couldn't move. 
Grey--" His eyes snapped open and darted wildly around 
the room. "Scully, where's Grey?"

"Shh, it's okay, Mulder. Grey is fine; he's at the motel 
getting some sleep."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure. Deep breaths, Mulder. Slow it down."

Mulder's nurse bustled into the room, mouth pursed. 
"What's going on in here, Dr. Scully? Your husband's 
heartrate just went through the roof."

"He got a little upset, Camilla, but everything's fine now--
right, Mulder?"

Pale as the sheets, a fine sheen of sweat on his brow, 
Mulder flashed his teeth. "Just peachy."

Camilla sniffed. "You need rest, Mr. Mulder. If having a 
visitor is too disturbingô"

"It's okay, really. I'm chillin'." The words came out in a 
barely audible croak. 

Camilla narrowed her eyes but said nothing. When she'd 
marched out, spine stiff, Mulder raised both eyebrows. 
"*Camilla*?"

Though relieved by the spark of his customary humor, 
Scully pressed ahead. Mulder was fading, the emotionally 
charged conversation too great a drain in his fragile 
condition.

"Mulder, what do you remember after the bright light?"

He was silent for a long time before finally shaking his 
head. "Nothing. It's a big blank, Scully." He chewed the 
inside of his lip. "I assume I wasô Was I abducted?" When 
she nodded, he sucked in a deep breath. "No wonder you 
look like hell. How long was I missing--forty-eight hours? 
Did you and Grey find me?"

"Not exactly."

"What does that mean?"

She desperately wished she could lie, could spare him from 
what lay ahead. Six years and she could still vividly 
remember the terrifying weight of the black hole in her 
memory.

"Scully?"

"What happened to you was different from what happened 
to the children, Mulder. There's no evidence you were 
subjected to brain surgery, and your brain activity has been 
what we'd expect, given your condition."

He captured the hand stroking his arm, stilling it. "There it 
is again, that word. Why don't you stop beating around the 
bush and tell me? Just what is my *condition*?"

Before she could speak an odd expression crossed his face. 
He released her arm, brought the hand up and stared at his 
palm. "Wait a minute, wait a minute." He swallowed, and 
an edge crept into his voice. "I burned my hand on some 
kind of strange rock. *This* hand." He swallowed again. 
"Scully, how long have I been gone?"

She closed her eyes. "Just over three months."

When his silence became unbearable she cleared her throat. 
"A couple of hikers found you in Bear Creek State Park. 
That's about thirty miles from Holiday Lake. We don't 
think you'd been there more than a couple days--the nights 
are too cold for you to have lasted much longer. I'm still 
waiting for some test results, but so far, other than being 
dehydrated and malnourished--"

"*Three months*?"

 She nodded, tears filling her eyes and stinging her throat.

"Iô That can't be. There must be some mistake."

 Irrationally, her temper flared. "There's no mistake, 
Mulder. At first we were certain you'd be returned in two 
days, just like the children. We assumed the same craft that 
returned Paige had taken you. After a week, we were forced 
to accept that those rules didn't apply. With the Gunmen's 
help we started reviewing satellite transmissions, 
monitoring UFO hotspots and checking with the local 
police, hospitalsô" She ran out of steam, shoulders 
slumping. "We never gave up. Not for a minute."

His fingers brushed her jaw, a feather-light touch. Scully 
caught his trembling hand and pressed it to her cheek.

"Sorry." His words slurred in exhaustion. "I believe you. I 
just don't want to."

"It's a lot to take in."

"You said you're waiting for test results."

She kissed his palm and laid his hand back on the mattress. 
"A full body MRI and x-rays."

"Making sure I didn't come back with 
anyômodifications?" 

"Something like that. You should sleep, Mulder. We can 
discuss this some more when you've rested."

"I don't need sleep; I need answers." His heavy eyelids and 
thready voice contradicted him.

"Sleep now, answers later. Don't make me call Camilla."

"You wouldn't."

"Try me."

He settled, muttered protest dying midstream as his eyes 
drifted shut. When his breathing slowed and deepened, 
Scully sank into her chair. She watched him sleep for a 
while, debating whether to duck out on a coffee run as her 
own level of fatigue reached critical mass. She'd just 
decided to risk a quick trip to the nurses' lounge when a 
soft knock drew her attention to the doorway. Dr. 
Hammond beckoned and withdrew.

"Camilla mentioned that your husband became quite 
agitated earlier," he said when Scully had joined him in the 
hallway.

"Discovering you've been missing for three months is a bit 
of a shock."

"I can only imagine. It looks like he's doing better."

"Mulder is amazingly resilient. 

"I've received his x-rays." Hammond tapped the envelope 
in his hand. "We're still waiting on the MRI."

Scully studied his face. "May I see them?"

Hammond nodded and led her around the corner to an 
exam room. He snapped on the lightbox, but paused with a 
film in his hand.

"Dr. Scully, I have to ask you a sensitive question. Was 
your husband abused as a child?"

Scully folded her arms, face blank. "Why would you ask 
that?"

Hammond's lips tightened to a thin line. "Because right 
now I'm at a loss to explain this." He snapped two films in 
place and stepped back. 

Scully pressed her fingers against her mouth, stifling a 
gasp. One film showed Mulder's ribs, the other his upper 
arm. Multiple white lines, indicating healed fractures, 
covered them both.

Hammond handed her the envelope. "They're all like this, 
Dr. Scully. Now, if these aren't childhood injuries--and 
frankly, I don't believe a child could sustain this much 
trauma without permanent damage--then you tell me. What 
the hell is going on?"


Chapter 5


Southside Community Hospital
Friday
4:08 PM


He nearly walked right past her.

After four hours of sleep, a turkey sandwich, and a can of 
caffeine-laden soda, Grey had returned to the hospital ready 
to relieve Dana. Holding a white paper bag containing 
another sandwich and a coffee, he'd braced himself for an 
argument. Dana was fiercely protective of Fox on a good 
day. After three months agonizing whether his brother was 
dead or alive, prying her from his side would take some 
smooth talking--or several sticks of dynamite.

Preoccupied with his thoughts, he'd reached Fox's hospital 
room and placed his hand on the door before noticing the 
figure slumped against the wall just outside.

"Dana?"

She lifted her head, revealing bloodshot eyes and blotchy 
cheeks. A boulder settled on Grey's chest.

"Did something happen? Is Fox...?"

"Mulder's fine. He's sleeping."

Grey sucked in his cheeks and set the bag down by his feet. 
"Okay. Then you mind telling me why he's in there and 
you're out here?"

"We got the test results, Grey. The x-rays, the MRI..."

"And?" When she didn't answer, he grasped her shoulders. 
"Dana, what is it?"

"I'm sorry. I just...I'm still coming to terms with this 
myself." She drew in a deep breath and tucked a strand of 
hair behind her ear. "The good news is that Mulder's test 
results show no implants--no foreign bodies of any kind."

"But they do show something, or you wouldn't be this 
upset."

"They indicate past trauma, Grey--massive damage. 
Countless fractures, ruptured organs... I've never seen 
anything like it. Considering the number and severity of 
injuries, Mulder should be dead ten times over."

"I don't understand. *Past* trauma?"

"Completely healed. If I judged strictly by the x-rays, the 
MRI, I'd believe them to be *years* old." She shook her 
head. "I know Mulder's medical records like the back of my 
hand, every bullet wound and scar. I'm telling you, Grey, 
none of these injuries existed three months ago."

Grey licked his lips. "But that's...that's impossible."

Scully barked a harsh little chuckle. "Impossible? We're 
talking about a race of beings that can extract brain tissue 
without opening the skull."

Sweat broke out on the back of his neck, beading his upper 
lip. Grey braced one hand against the wall, pulling air past 
the weight in his chest. "You think they tortured him."

Scully closed her eyes. "Only Mulder can tell us what 
really happened."

"God, Dana. No wonder he freaked during that test. He 
must 
have--"

"He doesn't remember, Grey."

"What?"

Scully pinched the bridge of her nose. "Mulder woke up 
while you were at the motel. He was his normal, glib, 
sarcastic self--with one exception. The past three months 
are a blank."

Grey blinked. "He can't remember any of it?"

She shook her head. "Finding Paige, seeing the spaceship--
it's all like yesterday for him. Learning the truth gave him 
quite a shock."

"You *told* him?"

"This is Mulder we're talking about, Grey. The man is a 
skilled interrogator, not to mention just plain bullheaded. 
He sensed something was wrong, and I couldn't lie to him."

Grey winced. "How did he take it?"

Scully's lips curved, but her eyes were sad. "The same way 
he's coped with all the other shit life has thrown his way--a 
little humor and a lot of sublimation." She stared at 
Mulder's door as if she could see through it to the man 
inside. "It's not the gap in his memory that worries me."

"It's him filling in the gap." Grey's voice was soft, pained. 
"Maybe he'd be better off if those missing pieces stayed 
missing."

"After seeing those x-rays, I almost agree with you. But it's 
a moot point. We both know how Mulder's mind works--
eidetic memory, remember? Sooner or later those memories 
are going to surface, and when they do..."

"We'll be there for him." Grey brushed his hand down her 
arm. "He's a survivor, Dana. God knows we've both seen 
him shrug off experiences that would bring a lesser man to 
his knees."

"I'd like to believe that, but, Grey, the test results... I look at 
those films, and I can't begin to understand how Mulder is 
still breathing, let alone reasonably whole and cognizant. 
And Hammond..." She waved a hand, puffing out a short 
breath. "Hammond just keeps trying to make sense of a 
situation for which he has no frame of reference."

Grey ran a hand down his face. "Look, I hate to bring up a 
sore subject, but what about Fox's...abilities?"

"Abilities?"

"The things Spender insinuated back when Fox so sick with 
that alien virus, his bragging about genetic manipulation. 
We've seen evidence that suggests Fox has an unusual 
ability to heal."

Scully was shaking her head before he'd finished speaking. 
"You're not getting it, Grey. They broke nearly every bone 
in his body. There are areas of scar tissue on all of his 
major organs." Her voice cracked. "No amount of genetic 
tweaking could explain this."

"C'mere." Grey folded her into a hug. He rubbed one hand 
between her shoulder blades, feeling fine tremors.

He waited until she'd relaxed, then released her. He placed 
first the food, then the room key into her hands.

"Eat. Sleep." He ticked the commands off on his fingers. 
"You look ready to fall over."

She tried slipping the key back into his jacket pocket. 
"Thanks, but I think I'll stretch out on the couch in the 
lounge, just in case--"

"Uh-uh. We had a deal--remember? It's *my* shift now, 
and I don't want to see you back here for at least six hours. 
I can hold down the fort just fine."

"Grey, I'm capable of resting here. I think it's best I stay. 
What if Mulder has another panic attack? I'm a doctor, I--"

Grey snorted. "No offense, darlin', but you and your 
medical degree weren't much help during that episode, 
were you?"

"That's a shitty thing to say."

"It is. Even if it's true." Grey sighed. "Look, Dana, Fox has 
plenty of doctors and nurses taking care of him. If he does 
freak out again, he won't need another medical 
professional. He'll need family." He shrugged. "For that, 
I'm qualified."

She huffed. "I suppose you have a point." Her eyes 
narrowed. "*Six* hours? Correct me if I'm wrong, but 
you've only been gone four."

Grey grinned, backing toward the door. "Inflation."

He slipped inside. With the blinds shut against the fading 
daylight, shadows cloaked the room. Fox lay on his side, 
one long-fingered hand curled beneath his chin, the 
rhythmic whisper of his breath loud in the silence. When 
his eyes adjusted to the gloom, Grey sat in the empty chair.

It was the first quiet moment he'd experienced since last 
evening when the rollercoaster ride had begun. Grey 
slumped back, shivering as reaction set in, his eyes locked 
on Fox's gaunt face. Three months. He recognized, now, 
how his hope had dwindled. How close he'd come to 
believing his brother lost forever. The realization shamed 
him, tainting the joy he'd felt at Fox's return.

"I'm sorry, Fox."

His brother's even breathing faltered. "Grey?"

Grey winced at the froggy croak, leaning forward to pat his 
brother's arm. "Right here. Didn't mean to wake you."

Fox rolled onto his back. He ran his tongue over his lips, 
eyes blinking at the ceiling. "Timizit?"

"About four-thirty in the afternoon. Why don't you go back 
to sleep?"

Fox turned his head, wrinkling his nose. "Mouth tastes like 
an old sock. Water?"

Grey reached for the pitcher, hesitating when he saw the 
length of plastic I.V. tubing protruding from just below 
Mulder's collarbone. "Uh...hang on a minute." 

He got up and strode out of the room, scanning the hallway 
for a nurse. A sweet young thing set down her clipboard 
and left the nurses' station when he beckoned.

"My brother's asking for water. Is that all right?"

She smiled reassuringly. "Mr. Mulder? Yes, just make sure 
he drinks it slowly, his stomach may be a little on edge. Dr. 
Hammond is coming back to check on him in a bit, and if 
everything looks okay we'll start him on a liquid diet."

"Thanks."

He ducked back inside. "Nurse says it's okay." He poured 
water into a cup and helped Fox sip from the straw, 
dismayed by the weakness in his brother's unsteady hands.

"'S enough." Fox pushed the cup aside after several 
swallows, settling into the pillow with a soft grunt. "This 
sucks. I can barely move. Everything feels like it weighs 
about a thousand pounds. Not to mention I hate hospitals."

"Beats the alternative."

"So I hear." Fox chewed on his lower lip. "I don't exactly 
remember."

"Dana told me. She's at the hotel getting some sleep, by the 
way. She'll be back later." 

"Good. She looked beat." Fox shifted, searching for a more 
comfortable position. "I guess the last three months have 
been pretty hard..." He trailed off into a bitter little chuckle. 
"Three months. I'm saying it and I still can't believe it."

"Yeah, well, it hasn't been easy for us to accept either." 
Grey looked out the window. "Gotta admit, I was beginning 
to think you were never coming back."

"Me? Nah. I'm like a bad penny, I always turn up."

"More like a Timex watch."

"Very funny. So...three months. That must mean--" He 
moaned, a low, distressed sound.

Grey jerked his attention from the window. "What is it? 
What's wrong?"

"I missed the World Series again, didn't I?"

"You little shit! You scared the hell out of me. I thought 
you were having some kind of attack, or in pain, or...or 
something."

"I am in pain, damn it! This is the second time in five years 
I've missed the Series."

Grey snickered, shocked when his vision blurred. He 
blinked furiously, swiping at his eyes with the back of one 
hand.

"Hey." Fox touched his wrist. "I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking. 
I know this must have been hell for you and Scully."

"It's not that." Grey shook his head, a bemused smile on his 
lips. "I mean, of course it was rough. We spent every spare 
moment trying to find you, and--" He stopped himself. "It's 
just really good to have you back."

"Give it some time, the novelty will wear off." Fox's voice 
turned pensive. "I wish I could say it's good to be back. But 
for me, it's as if I never left." His eyes bore into Grey's with 
relentless intensity. "I have to fill in the blank, Grey. I have 
to know what happened to me."

*They broke nearly every bone in his body.*

"Give it some time, Fox. You've been back all of--what? 
Forty-eight hours?"

"Easy for you to say. You're not the one with a black hole 
in your memory." Fox punctuated the complaint with a 
yawn, eyelids drooping.

"Hey, I've been there. Remember when your buddy 
Cancerman thought he could treat my brain like a magic 
slate and just erase the stuff he didn't want me taking 
home? It might not have been three months' worth, but it 
was no picnic."

"Point taken. But can't you see how frustrating this is? For 
years I've searched for conclusive proof of extraterrestrial 
life, battled against a conspiracy to conceal it." Fox yawned 
again. "I've interviewed victims of alien abduction, listened 
to hundreds of accounts. Now here I am, one of my own x-
files with first hand experience, and I can't remember a 
damn thing."

Despite the burden of knowledge he carried, one corner of 
Grey's mouth turned up. "I believe that's called irony, little 
brother. Now how about you catch up on some more 
sleep?"

Fox's eyes, which had been drifting closed, snapped open 
and his body stiffened. "Are you leaving?"

Puzzled by the wary tone and obvious tension, Grey shook 
his head. "Nope. I'm on duty until Dana gets back. 'Fraid 
you're stuck with at least one of us for the time being." He 
leaned back in the chair and propped his feet on the 
mattress, nudging his brother's leg.

Fox rolled his eyes. "That's my Scully--never trust the 
medical staff." But his body relaxed, his eyelids 
immediately sliding shut. Within seconds he was out for the 
count.

Grey watched him sleep, uneasiness niggling at the back of 
his mind. For just an instant, when he'd thought Grey might 
be leaving, Fox had looked...afraid. 

Grey didn't want to think about what that might mean.


Chapter 6

Southside Community Hospital
Sunday
5:37 PM

"I want it on the record, Mr. Mulder, that I'd feel much 
better if you remained here one more night. You're still 
extremely weak, and--"

"And I'm deeply touched by your concern, Doctor. Really. 
But I'll have my personal physician with me at all times, 
and she's acquainted with my condition. Intimately."

Scully pursed her lips, smirking inwardly at Mulder's 
guileless expression, while Grey simply turned his back, 
shoulders hunched. 

Hammond eyeballed Mulder for a long moment before 
scribbling his signature onto the discharge papers with a 
shake of his head. He tucked the chart under his arm and 
turned his attention to Scully.

"Perhaps we can have a word outside while Detective 
McKenzie helps your husband dress."

Mulder clenched his jaw, shoving off the blankets and 
swinging his legs over the side of the bed. "I've never 
considered dressing a group effort. Now *undressing*, 
that's another matter."

"Mulder, wait. I don't think--" 

He'd pushed off the mattress before she finished speaking, 
stubborn triumph melting to disbelief when his stick-thin 
legs simply folded. Scully lunged, grabbing for his arm, but 
Grey got there first. He caught his brother around the waist 
and dragged him upright, easing him back onto the bed.

"Easy, Fox. Those legs are a little rusty."

Hammond cleared his throat. "As I was saying..."

Scully took one look at Mulder's flushed face and rigid 
spine before grasping Hammond's elbow and steering him 
into the hallway. "You said you had something to discuss 
with me, Doctor?"

Hammond waited until they'd moved away from the open 
door before speaking. "Dr. Scully, I just want to stress how 
important it is that your husband continues to receive 
treatment. He's made incredible progress over the last 72 
hours, but I'm afraid complete recovery will take plenty of 
time and patience--on both your parts."

"Of course." Scully tipped up her chin. "I'll make an 
appointment first thing tomorrow morning. I've already had 
his records from the last few days sent to his physician."

"Good." Hammond hesitated, his soft drawl becoming 
more pronounced as his voice gentled. "It will be tempting 
to focus on his physical health. But you and I both know 
his problems run much deeper than the perplexing 
reduction in his lymphocyte population or a dropped twenty 
pounds. 

"Though I can't begin to explain the blood test results, the 
x-rays, the MRI, I also can't deny what they reveal--trauma 
of an incomprehensible nature. *Something* terrible 
happened to your husband, Dr. Scully. Something his 
subconscious is doing its damnedest to bury. He'll need 
help--professional help--to cope with his experience."

Irritation welled up inside her, tightening her chest and 
pounding behind her eyes. "I don't need a lecture on my 
responsibilities, Dr. Hammond. I'm a physician and a 
professional law enforcement officer, and I know my 
husband better than anyone."

"I know. I never meant to suggest otherwise."

Shamed by his patient response, Scully's temper cooled. 
"I'm sorry. I do appreciate your concern, believe me. I'm 
aware that my husband has a long road to recovery--longer 
than even you can imagine. I'll do everything possible to 
ensure he gets whatever help he needs."

Hammond scrutinized her face. "You know where he's been 
the last three months, don't you? Or at the very least, who 
took him. The high white cell count, the presence of 
glucocorticoids--even the anomaly of those recently-healed 
injuries. You displayed shock, yes, but never disbelief. 
Almost as if..." His eyes narrowed. "As if you'd seen it, or 
something like it, before."

"Dr. Hammond, I'm really not at liberty to discuss--"

Grey stepped into the hallway and cocked a thumb over his 
shoulder. "There's one seriously pissy FBI agent in there 
who's anxious to leave this fine establishment. Where the 
hell is the nurse with the wheelchair?"

For a moment Scully though Hammond would persist, but 
he relaxed with a mild chuckle. "Wouldn't want it said I 
obstructed justice. I'll track down Camilla."

Scully followed Grey back into the room, finding Mulder 
perched on the bed, fiddling with an emesis basin. Her 
heart lurched and she had to blink back the prickle of tears. 
At the last moment, as she and Grey prepared to leave her 
apartment, she'd snatched a few items of Mulder's clothing. 
A talisman against failure and a pledge of faith that this 
time she'd bring him home. The faded blue jeans and soft, 
gray sweatshirt leant him a heartbreaking air of normality 
despite his sunken cheeks and shadowed eyes.

He scowled as he searched the doorway behind her. "Please 
tell me Nurse Godzilla is on her way."

She tried for a look of disapproval but it slid off her face. 
"*Camilla*, Mulder. Dr. Hammond went to find her. Be 
nice--she's the one driving you to the front entrance."

"Seems appropriate. She's been driving me up the wall for 
days." He tossed the basin onto the tray table and began 
plucking at his shirt.

Eyebrows raised, Grey waved a hand in his brother's 
direction. *See?*

"I know she's a little...abrasive, but her heart's in the right 
place." When Mulder graduated from plucking to 
scratching Scully grabbed his fingers. "Stop that."

"It itches."

She hooked a finger in the neck of his shirt, pulling it aside 
to check the bandage covering the wound left by the central 
line. "Itching means healing. That's good."

"Scratching means relief. That's good too." But he dropped 
his hand to his lap.

"All right, Mr. Mulder." Camilla breezed into the room 
with a wheelchair and her customary no-nonsense scowl. 
She wagged a finger at him. "Stay put until I can help you--
"

"No problem, ma'am, I've got it covered." Grey gave her a 
soul-melting grin, taking Mulder's elbow and steadying him 
as he plopped into the chair.

"Why, thank you, Mr. McKenzie! The help is much 
appreciated." Camilla dimpled, blushing to the roots of her 
silver hair.

Mulder rolled his eyes but said nothing.

As they rolled out the door, Camilla tossed over her 
shoulder, "Don't forget Mr. Mulder's personal effects, Dr. 
Scully. Top drawer of the bedside table."

"But he didn't..." Scully shrugged when Camilla kept 
walking. Waving Grey onward, she stepped back into the 
room. 

She crossed to the table and tugged open the drawer, 
sweeping her eyes perfunctorily over the interior. At first 
glance it appeared empty, and she'd begun sliding the 
drawer shut when a small baggie caught her eye. She lifted 
it, staring at the dark, glassy rock inside.

How could she have forgotten? Slowly, Scully opened the 
bag and grasped the smooth surface, flinching at the odd 
sensation of warmth. Holding it up to the light revealed 
nothing--if the object contained some kind of power source, 
the opaque surface effectively concealed it.

Grey's head appeared around the corner. "You coming?"

She startled, nearly dropping the rock. Sliding it into the 
bag and then her pocket, she turned with a brittle smile. 
"Let's go."

Mulder and Camilla were parked at the elevators, wearing 
identical sour expressions when Grey jogged up and 
punched the button.

"Everything okay?" Mulder studied her face, his voice 
warm with concern.

She snagged his hand from the arm of the chair, weaving 
their fingers together. "Everything is good, Mulder."

A high-pitched ding and the elevator doors rumbled open. 
Two nurses and a young couple got off, leaving the car 
empty. Camilla took two strides forward before Mulder 
clamped both hands onto the wheels, stopping the chair.

Camilla let out a displeased huff. "Mr. Mulder, please let 
go. I can't push when you do that." 

Grey thrust out a blocking arm as the doors began closing. 
They popped back open, chiming a soft protest. Camilla 
gave the chair another shove, but Mulder clamped down 
harder, knuckles white.

"Mr. Mulder." Camilla clipped out the name like a curse, 
sending Scully a longsuffering glare.

Scully stood in front of him, perplexed. Mulder was staring 
into the elevator car, teeth tormenting his lower lip.

"Mulder?"

"Just...just wait a minute." His eyes cut to the left, locking 
onto the red exit sign. "We're only four floors up. How 
'bout we take the stairs?"

"Nonsense." Camilla gave the chair a jiggle. "Mr. Mulder, I 
need you to remove your hands from the wheels so we can 
get into the elevator. You're wasting my time; I have other 
patients to attend to."

"Mulder, you know you're in no condition to navigate 
stairs." Scully kept her tone gentle as she reclaimed his 
hand. "Come on."

She stayed close as Camilla trundled the chair into the 
elevator and Grey punched the button. 

The instant the doors began moving Mulder tensed, 
crushing her fingers. "Open the door!"

Scully gasped, half in shock, half in pain, while Grey 
simply gaped at his brother's wild eyes and high, panic-
stricken voice.

"Open the door, open it!" Mulder lurched forward, 
dropping Scully's hand and straining for the control panel. 
"Have to get out. Now!"

"Mulder, it's all right. We'll be down in a minute," Scully 
soothed, pressing gently against his chest as the elevator 
began its decent.

Grey laid a hand on his brother's outstretched arm, guiding 
downward. "Easy, Fox."

Mulder's breathing escalated to quick pants, a sheen of 
sweat breaking out on his face. His eyes darted around the 
car's interior and his body thrummed like an overstretched 
rubberband. "No, no, no. Can't...can't breathe, gotta..."

"You're fine, Mr. Mulder. Sit down." Camilla firmly 
gripped his shoulders, pulling him toward the back of the 
chair.

At the touch of her hands, Mulder's whole body jerked. 
"NO!"

He wrenched free from her grasp, knocking aside their 
restraining hands while struggling to scramble out of the 
chair. "No, don't! I don't want it. 
Letmeoutletmeoutletmeout!"

Scully caught his face between her palms but could not 
make contact with his blank, terrified eyes. "Mulder! 
Mulder, calm down, it's--shit!" His flailing hand smacked 
her in the face and sent her stumbling backward, head 
thudding against the wall.

She cradled her throbbing cheek, blinking back tears. 
Mulder had dragged himself out of the chair, fingers 
scrabbling at the crack between the doors, and Camilla was 
reaching for the emergency call button as the floor 
indicator light skipped from 3 to 2. Taking advantage of his 
brother's distraction, Grey lunged from behind, wrapping 
both arms around Mulder's chest. The wheelchair tipped 
over as they both tumbled to the floor.

"Don't...d...don't. Have to get out."

"Shhh, easy, Fox. You're safe." Grey rested his chin on his 
brother's shoulder and murmured the words into his ear. 

Mulder stopped fighting, his frantic gasps harsh in the 
abrupt quiet. "Grey?"

"I'm here. Everything's gonna be all right. Just breathe." He 
looked up at Scully. "You okay?"

"I'm fine." Scully pushed past the flustered Camilla and 
knelt beside them, pressing her fingers to Mulder's wrist, 
then brushing the hair from his eyes and checking his 
pupils.

A faint bump and the elevator doors opened. Grey gazed up 
at the curious faces of an elderly man and two young 
women. He flashed them a grin as he and Scully hauled 
Mulder upright and out of the car while Camilla picked up 
the wheelchair. "Hang onto your hats, folks. That ride gets 
a bit bumpy."

Scully pursed her lips but merely took the wheelchair from 
Camilla, holding it steady while Grey lowered his brother. 
Mulder slumped into the seat, chin tucked to his chest. His 
respiration had already slowed dramatically.

The nurse cleared her throat. "I'll get Dr. Hammond."

"No." Mulder lifted his head. Occasional tremors still 
shook his thin frame, but his eyes were clear and lucid. "No 
doctor."

Camilla's eyes narrowed. "Mr. Mulder, I have never, in all 
my years--"

Scully held up a hand. "Thank you anyway, Camilla, but 
that's not necessary. Didn't you say you had other patients? 
We can handle things from here."

Camilla gritted her teeth. "Yes. I certainly do." She pasted 
on a tight little smile as she turned away. "Best of luck to 
all of you." The unspoken implication was clear: *You're 
going to need it.*

Scully crouched down, one hand on Mulder's knee, the 
other stroking up and down his arm. "Talk to me, Mulder. 
What just happened?"

He blinked and shook his head. "I don't know."

"Mulder."

"I don't know!" When she flinched he sighed. "I don't 
understand it myself, Scully. I just...I had this 
overwhelming sensation that I was trapped. Like the walls 
were closing in on me and I couldn't get enough oxygen. 
I'm sorry I hared out on you like that, but I'm okay now. 
Can we please just get out of here?"

She thought about the eerily similar incident during the 
MRI but decided not to push. Mulder's eyes, dark with 
exhaustion, and the aftershocks still shivering through his 
limbs convinced her the subject was best left for another 
day.

She smiled and cocked her head toward Grey. "Sounds 
good to me. What do you think?"

"I think we'd better blow this joint before Nurse Godzilla 
comes back with reinforcements." He shook his head with 
mock amazement. "You sure know how to win friends and 
influence people, don'tcha, Fox?"

Scully chuffed, grateful for Grey's wry humor. "Just 
worked that out, did you?"

"It's a gift." Though still trembling, Mulder licked dry lips 
and managed a weak smile. "Let's go home."


Chapter 7

Outside Richmond, VA
Sunday
8:12 PM


Grey squinted against the oncoming headlights, digging 
fingers into the tight muscles at the base of his neck. He 
tipped his head left, then right, and rolled both shoulders, 
sighing when his spine shifted and popped.

"Still having back trouble?"

He glanced over at Scully, a wry smile twisting his lips. 
"Tends to flare up when I'm tense. And I haven't exactly 
been keeping my chiropractor appointments these last few 
weeks."

"Sorry."

"What the heck for?"

She lifted one shoulder, amusement coloring her voice. "I 
feel partly responsible. After all, you injured it pulling Bill 
to safety--despite the fact he'd just behaved like an ass."

"Darlin', don't take this the wrong way, but your brother's 
been an ass ever since I met him. I'm afraid it's a permanent 
condition."

"You've got a point."

"How has your family reacted to Fox's disappearance?"

"Mom's...bewildered. Kidnapping she could understand, 
but alien abduction?"

"Kinda hard to swallow." Grey laughed quietly. "Yeah, I 
can relate."

"Charlie, on the other hand, has been a rock. He's called me 
a couple times a week, keeping tabs on me, on the search. 
The whole alien component doesn't seem to faze him--but 
then, it never did." 
She smiled. "Charlie's always been the believer in the 
family. He was the last to give up on Santa Claus and the 
first to become convinced a ghost haunted our neighbor's 
shed. During his telekinesis phase, he lost at least a half 
dozen spoons trying to bend them with his mind. Drove my 
mother nuts."

"And Billy Boy?" Grey prodded when she fell silent.

"Bill is Bill."

"Huh. Like I said, it's a permanent condition."

"Let's just say Bill has had his own...theories regarding 
Mulder's whereabouts. None of them flattering to Mulder's 
character."

"For instance?"

"You don't want to hear this, Grey."

"Sure I do."

"No, you--"

"Dana, what the hell did he say?"

Scully bit her lip, staring out the window. "In his kinder 
moments he suggested that Mulder had been kidnapped by 
one of the many 'nutcases' we've encountered during the 
course of our work."

"That's the *kind* version?"

Scully chuckled through gritted teeth. "His less charitable 
theory had Mulder...snapping under pressure. Experiencing 
a complete mental breakdown, losing it, and wandering off 
to parts unknown."

"Son of a bitch."

"That term was mentioned, yes."

Grey flexed his fingers, curling them more tightly around 
the steering wheel. "Speaking of losing it... What exactly 
happened in that elevator, Dana? Some sort of panic 
attack?"

Scully leaned over and peered into the back of the SUV. 
Mulder sprawled across the seat, one leg bent at the knee, 
the other trailing onto the floor. Lips parted, his chest rose 
and fell with the deep, slow breaths of heavy sleep.

She turned back to Grey, voice hushed. "More like a 
flashback. His reaction in that elevator was uncomfortably 
similar to his behavior during the MRI. In both instances, 
confinement in a small space triggered not only extreme 
anxiety but what I believe could be a memory."

Grey winced. "That's a helluva memory."

"Just the tip of the iceberg, I'm afraid. We knew it wasn't 
going to be easy, Grey. Mulder will need help dealing with 
the past three months, but he'll fight it. Things could get 
ugly."

"We'll double team him, darlin'. He won't know what hit 
him."

She blinked stinging eyes. "I just assumed... You've been 
on leave of absence more than four weeks."

"You expected I'd drop you two at the curb and make 
tracks, huh?"

"Well, when you put it that way..."

He reached over and squeezed her shoulder. "I'll be here as 
long as you and Fox need me."

The knot in her chest loosened. "Thank you."

"Have you talked to Walt recently?"

"Earlier this afternoon, once I knew Mulder would be 
released. He made it very clear that the Bureau will cover 
Mulder's bills, since he essentially incurred his...injuries on 
the job. Which reminds me..."

She pulled the bag from her pocket. "Recognize this?"

Grey's eyes widened. "That's it. That's the rock Fox picked 
up just before we saw the spaceship. The one that burned 
his hand."

"And the object he was clutching when they found him. I 
touched it earlier, in his room, and it was uncomfortably 
warm. Yet now it's cool."

Grey shrugged. "It must hold some significance, but I'll be 
damned if I know what."

She tucked it away with a sigh. "I'll have the boys take a 
look. Maybe they can come up with something, or at least--
"

Soft rustling of cloth and restless limbs caught her 
attention. In the back seat Mulder had curled into a fetal 
position, knees drawn to his chest and arms hugged tightly 
to his body. His face contorted, eyes squeezed shut in a 
pained grimace.

"Don't...please." Words moaned in a breathy whisper, 
barely audible over the engine's hum.

Scully took off her seatbelt and leaned between the seats. 
"Shh. It's okay, Mulder. You're dreaming."

He folded into a tighter ball, arms now wrapped around his 
head. "Stop...hurts. Scully...no."

Scully reached out and grasped his wrist, tugging the arm 
from his face. "Mulder, it's all right. You're safe--"

Her soothing murmur cut off with a sharp cry as Mulder 
opened his eyes wide and clamped his hands around her 
throat. Snarling, he squeezed, dragging her into the back 
seat. "No! I won't let you."

Scully clawed at his fingers, gasping for air. She kicked 
frantically, pummeling Grey and momentarily dislodging 
his grip on the steering wheel. The car swerved, veering 
onto the wrong side of the road and into the path of an 
oncoming van.

"Shit!" Grey seized the wheel and jerked hard to the right, 
cutting across their own lane and onto the shoulder. He 
stomped on the brake and the car skidded to a stop.

Scully saw spots dance across her vision. Digging her 
fingernails into Mulder's arm, she thrashed, unable to choke 
out a protest. Mulder growled, shaking her until she went 
limp. "Leave me alone!"  

A click, the rush of cold air, and she dropped to the floor. 
Harsh, raspy coughs tore through her chest, watering her 
eyes as she gulped air. She heard Grey shouting, but his 
voice sounded as if it came from the end of a long tunnel. 
Still draped painfully between the seats, she crawled the 
rest of the way into the back and sat up.

Grey held Mulder in a headlock, speaking soothing words 
into his ear. As she watched, her fingers pressed 
protectively over her throat, Mulder stopped struggling. 
Slowly, the anger and fear faded from his eyes. His 
forehead wrinkled and his lips parted as he gaped at 
Scully's ashen face. Grey cautiously released him.

"Scully?" Mulder reached for her, snatching back his hand 
when she flinched. "Scully, what happened? I--"

A truck whizzed past, flooding the car with light. Mulder 
recoiled, his breath stuttering, then speeding up. "What... 
I...I did this?" Once again, he stretched a hand toward her. 

This time, Scully remained still as he gently traced her 
throat with trembling fingers. "You remember?" She spoke 
with difficulty as the words grated past irritated tissue.

Mulder shivered. "No. No! I would never... I mean, yes, I 
remember but...but not this, not you." He pressed his 
forehead to his knees and rocked.

Scully scooted onto the seat. She stroked her fingers 
through his hair while Grey, his forehead scrunched and 
spine stiff, rubbed circles on his back. "Tell me, Mulder," 
she rasped. "Tell me what you remember."

He shook his head violently. "Doesn't make sense."

"Tell me anyway."

He was silent a long time before speaking. "Pain. Worse 
than anything I've ever felt. Like being ripped apart from 
the inside out." His muffled voice cracked and broke.

She continued the gentle motion of her hand, forcing breath 
past the weight in her chest. "What else?"

"Fighting. Light pinning me down. Voices telling me not to 
resist. To submit." He lifted his head, teeth chattering from 
the tremors running through his body. He scanned her face 
as if looking for the answer to his confusion. "*Your* 
voice. It was you, Scully...but it wasn't. I...it makes no 
sense." He ground the heels of his hands into his eyes. 
"Head hurts."

Scully shrugged off the horror his words invoked. "I can 
help with that. Grey, could you get my purse and a bottle of 
water?"

She gave Mulder two pills, steadying his hand as he 
swallowed them without question. Grey helped them settle 
into the back seat, reclaimed his spot behind the wheel, and 
resumed driving.

Mulder touched her neck. "I'm so sorry, babe. I didn't 
mean...you know I would never..."

"Of course you wouldn't."

He turned away with a bitter laugh. "You must be asking 
yourself why you kept looking."

"That's not funny, Mulder."

"It wasn't meant to be a joke."

She cradled his face between her palms. "I looked because I 
need you, Mulder, like I need my next breath. Because you 
are my center; you touch every part of me." She brushed 
her thumbs across his cheeks, the smile quivering on her 
lips. "Because you make me a whole person, and I can't do 
this without you. That's why I kept looking, why I would 
have continued looking no matter how long it took."

"Scully." He whispered her name, blinking back tears. 

More than three months. Scully leaned over and touched 
her mouth to his in a long, sweet kiss. Eventually, she 
pulled away, and resting her forehead against his, 
murmured, "Welcome home."

He turned his face into the curve of her neck.

Scully pulled the pillow into her lap and patted it. "Rest, 
Mulder. It's still another hour to DC."

He tensed, spine straightening and face expressionless. 
"That's okay. I'm not tired." Blinking bloodshot eyes, he 
smothered a yawn with the back of his hand.

"Do it for me, then. It's been a rough trip and you're still 
very weak."

"Scully."

"Mulder." She smoothed the hair back from his brow. "It's 
all right. I promise I won't let you dream."

Too tired to argue further, he let her guide him down, 
curling up with his head in her lap. Body stiff and eyes 
wide open, he fought exhaustion until the monotonous 
drone of tires on pavement and the seductive warmth of her 
body lulled him to sleep.

Scully dropped her head onto the seatback. Her throat 
throbbed and she felt bruised inside.

"You hangin' in there?"

She'd almost forgotten Grey's presence. His eyes in the rear 
view mirror reflected affection and concern. "I'm fine."

"Uh-huh. And if I believe that one I'll bet you've got some 
swampland in Florida for me."

 "It's not as if I didn't expect this, Grey. I warned you things 
would get rough."

Grey snorted. "This was way beyond rough, darlin', and 
you for damn sure know it. You can't tell me you expected 
your husband would assault you. So drop the 'I'm fine'--
nobody here is buyin' it."

Scully brushed the moisture from her eyes, smiling weakly. 
"Okay, maybe fine is an exaggeration."

"Now we're getting somewhere."

"What do you want me to say, Grey? Yes, the fact that 
Mulder tried to strangle me is only slightly less horrifying 
than the fact he identifies me with the torture inflicted upon 
him." Mulder flinched, brow furrowing. She rubbed his arm 
until he settled, then continued in a more subdued tone. 
"I'm fine because I have to be fine. Because Mulder needs 
me to be fine."

Grey blew out a gusty breath. "Just help me understand, 
Dana. Why would Fox associate you with pain when we all 
know you'd never hurt him?"

She felt ill, her stomach twisted in knots. "One race of 
aliens we've run across can change their physical 
appearance at will. They've proved to be excellent mimics. 
I was completely taken in by one that looked just like 
Mulder."

Grey turned toward her, his face blank with shock. A horn 
blared, and he jumped, dragging his gaze back to the road. 
Clearing his throat could not mask the unsteadiness in his 
voice. "Are you saying..."

"They used me against him, Grey. The one person he trusts 
more than any other. To confuse him, control him--perhaps 
simply to torment him. His mind may tell him it wasn't real, 
wasn't me, but his body remembers. Mulder remembers." 

She touched Mulder's hair, his cheek, shivering despite the 
warmth seeping from his body to hers. 

"I hope to God he can forget."


Chapter 8

Georgetown
Sunday
9:26 PM


Grey pulled the car smoothly to the curb and turned off the 
engine. "Home, sweet home." He peered between the seats. 
"Is it just me or did that four-hour trip feel more like 
twenty-four?"

Scully shifted her legs, grimacing at the pins and needles 
sensation in her feet. "Definitely not just you." She looked 
down at Mulder's slack, peaceful face. "Let's get him 
upstairs. Then, hopefully, we can all get some sleep."

"Sounds like a plan to me."

As Grey got out of the car, Scully brushed the backs of her 
fingers down Mulder's cheek. "We're home, Mulder. Time 
to wake up."

He didn't twitch, not even when Grey tugged the door open 
and let in a gust of cold air.

Scully shook his shoulder, raising her voice. "Come on, 
Mulder. Wake up."

He cracked open one eye and regarded her blearily for a 
moment before it slid shut. Levering him upright, Scully 
tapped his cheek. "Thought you didn't want to wrestle--
remember?"

He squinted at her, brow furrowed. "Huh?"

"Never mind. Let Grey help you out of the car. We're 
home."

"'M fine. Don't need help." He waved Grey aside and 
crawled out of the open door, nearly tumbling onto the 
pavement.

Grey grasped his brother around the waist, hooking 
Mulder's right arm around his neck. "Humor me, little 
brother."

"'Kay."

His brief flash of independence extinguished, Mulder 
sagged against Grey, chin dipping toward his chest and 
eyes at half-mast. Scully wormed her way under his limp 
left arm, adding her support, and together she and Grey 
steered him toward the front door of the apartment 
building. 

Grey frowned at her over his brother's bent head. "He's 
asleep on his feet. What the hell was in those pills you gave 
him?" he hissed.

"Diazepam." At Grey's blank look, she clarified, "Valium. 
Dr. Hammond gave it to me along with the vitamins and 
antibiotic. Considering the likelihood of post-traumatic 
stress, he was afraid Mulder might experience more 
outbursts like the one during the MRI."

"Looks like he was right on the money."

"I didn't want to risk another flashback at seventy miles an 
hour."

"I, uh, see your point."

Scully fumbled for the door handle, barely maintaining her 
grasp on six feet of loopy Mulder. Rapid footsteps 
approached just as her fingers slipped and Mulder slid 
toward the ground. Peripherally, she saw a strong hand grip 
Mulder's arm above the elbow and haul him upright.

"Agent Scully, Grey. Seems like you could use a little 
help."

She looked up into Skinner's warm brown eyes. "Sir?"

"Well hey, Walt. You're a sight for sore eyes," Grey 
drawled as Skinner stepped in and snugged Mulder's arm 
more firmly around his shoulders.

Mulder stiffened. Blinking, he studied Skinner's face for a 
long moment before his wobbly head dropped onto Grey's 
shoulder and his eyelids fluttered shut. "Babe, I dunno what 
was in that pill you gave me, but all of a sudden you look 
exactly like Skinner. 'S scaring the hell outta me." 

Skinner rolled his eyes. "Nice to see you, too, Agent 
Mulder."

Grey laughed silently. "Don't worry about it, Fox. Just relax 
and let us do the driving."

Scully held the door open and they manhandled Mulder 
into the foyer. She darted around them and pressed the 
elevator button.

Grey pulled up short. "Uh, Dana?  You sure that's such a 
good idea? Maybe the stairs..."

Skinner frowned, adjusting his grip when Mulder nearly 
slithered out of his grasp. "Stairs?" He drew out the word.

"It'll be fine, Grey." She tipped her head toward Mulder and 
arched an eyebrow.

Grey took a good look at his brother. Fox's slitted eyes 
revealed only a hint of hazel, his body boneless. Odds were 
good that a trip in the elevator would fly right under his 
radar.

Scully stepped to the back, making room for Grey, Mulder, 
and Skinner. They shuffled inside, and Grey patted his 
brother's waist as the doors rumbled shut. "Hang in there, 
Fox. A few more minutes and we can all take a load off."

"Oh, Grey. I forgot about your back." Scully saw that 
despite Skinner's best efforts, Grey bore the brunt of 
Mulder's weight.

"I'm all right." Grey was silent a moment before continuing 
in a voice low and tight with anger. "He must be a good 
twenty pounds lighter than normal. Hell, I could practically 
carry him."

Scully bit back a reply. She and Dr. Hammond estimated 
that Mulder had dropped closer to thirty pounds.

The brief elevator ride passed without incident. Feeling as 
if she were nearing the end of a long race, Scully let them 
into the apartment and led the way to the bedroom, flicking 
on lights as she went.

"I can take it from here," she said, folding back the 
bedspread and motioning for Skinner and Grey to sit their 
charge on the mattress.

The change of position jolted Mulder awake. He panicked, 
flinching from the supporting hands with a low cry.

"Easy, Mulder." Skinner backed off a step, palms raised. 
"Everything's okay."

"We're home, Mulder." Scully moved around the men and 
into Mulder's line of sight. "Grey and Skinner just helped 
get you in from the car."

Mulder ran both hands over his face as if to scrub away his 
confusion. "Uh...no offense, sir, but when did you join the 
party?"

"I'm not joining, Mulder, just passing through. Don't mind 
me; you go ahead and get some rest." Skinner paused in the 
doorway, eyes crinkled with the suggestion of a smile. 
"And Mulder? If this your idea of a party, you need to get 
out more."

Grey squeezed his brother's shoulder. "Good night, Fox."

Scully ushered them out of the bedroom and shut the door. 
When she turned around, Mulder was nodding off, his chin 
dipping to his chest. 

"Stay with me, Mulder. You can't sleep like that."

She stripped off his sweatshirt, guiding rubbery arms 
through the sleeves and tugging it over his head. Mulder, 
hair sticking up at all angles, managed only a pitiful 
imitation of a lecherous leer.

"Scully, please. Grey and Skinner are right in the next room 
and we both know how noisy you get."

She snorted indelicately, tipping him onto his back and 
setting to work on his jeans. "Me? Two words, Mulder. 
Mrs. Wendling."

"Low blow, babe."

"I told you to close the window."

"The woman is older than God and has hearing aids in both 
ears. I thought she'd be sound asleep. Besides, it was none 
of her business."

"It was middle of the night. You were moaning "Right 
there, right there" and "Harder, harder" loud enough to 
wake the dead." Scully popped open the last button and 
skimmed the jeans down his legs.

"At least I faced her with a plausible explanation. You, as I 
recall, hid in the bedroom."

"You told her we were hanging pictures, Mulder. At 2:30 
a.m. I'd hardly call that plausible."

"It got her to leave, didn't it?" Mulder chuckled throatily, 
then yawned. "Mrs. Wendling is a shameless busybody 
with too much time on her hands. That was probably the 
highlight of her week."

Scully drew the covers up to his chest. Smoothing his hair 
back, she kissed his forehead. "Sleep."

He caught hold of her wrist as she straightened. "Leaving 
me? When I'm finally in a bed big enough for two?"  The 
light, teasing lilt to his voice didn't match the tense set of 
his mouth and the painful pressure of his fingers.

She perched on the edge of the mattress. "I need to find out 
why Skinner's here. I doubt it's a social call."

He levered himself up on his elbows and pushed back the 
blanket. "I'll come with you."

"Mulder." She pressed her palm to his chest. "You can 
barely keep your eyes open. You were sleepwalking the 
whole way in from the car. Rest. I'll join you soon, I 
promise."

Mulder flopped back onto the pillows. Scully tucked the 
blanket back up around his shoulders and stood. Folding 
her arms, she studied his face. Mulder evaded her gaze, his 
teeth tormenting his lower lip and his body rigid.

"Talk to me, Mulder. What's going on?"

"Nothing." When she raised an eyebrow, he ground out 
through gritted teeth, "Nothing I can explain, or even 
understand." He made a weak shooing motion. "Go on. I'm 
fine."

Though she could see he was anything but, Mulder's 
strained smile pleaded that she not press the issue. She 
nodded and turned toward the door.

"Scully?" Mulder's sharp call froze her fingers on the light 
switch. His smile faded, leaving eyes that looked too large 
in his thin face. He glanced away, mumbling something too 
softly for her to hear.

"What?"

"I said leave it on!" He flushed and lowered his voice. 
"Please."

Troubled, she left the lamp on and the door open. In the 
living room, Skinner and Grey were conversing quietly. 
She gestured for them to remain seated and dropped onto 
the couch beside Grey. Some of her discomfort must have 
shown on her face, because he broke off mid-sentence, a 
small line forming between his brows.

"Everything all right?"

"Everything is fine." She turned expectantly to Skinner.

"Scully, I know you're all tired, so I'll keep this brief. I 
thought you'd be interested to know that I had a forensics 
team from the Richmond office go over the area where 
those hikers stumbled onto Mulder."

"And?"

"That part of the state had experienced heavy rainfall 
several days earlier. The ground was still saturated."

"In other words, in prime condition to retain evidence," 
Grey interjected.

"Exactly. They found two distinct sets of footprints that 
matched the hikers' boots, and the imprint from Mulder's 
body. Unfortunately, the EMTs and their equipment tore up 
most of the ground immediately surrounding it."

"But they did find something more." 

Skinner nodded. "They were able to backtrack Mulder's 
trail to a small clearing three miles from where he was 
found."

"*Three miles?*" Grey choked out the words. "He could 
barely lift his arm. How in God's name did he make it three 
miles?"

"What did they find in the clearing?" Scully asked.

Skinner clenched his jaw. "You can probably guess what 
they found. Nothing. There was an indentation at the end of 
the trail, the size and shape indicating a body had impacted 
the ground, probably falling a distance of ten to twelve feet. 
No tire tracks, ruts, shoe prints--nothing to explain how 
someone apparently dropped Mulder into the middle of a 
field without leaving a scrap of evidence."

Grey blew out a long breath. "Bet that went over well."

One corner of Skinner's mouth twitched. "The agent in 
charge expressed...frustration."

"This only confirms what we already know," Scully said, 
her voice raspy. "Gratifying, perhaps, but essentially 
useless. We know who took Mulder. What we don't know 
is why."

"And for that, I'm afraid I have no answer." Skinner stood. 
"I'll let you get some sleep."

Scully followed him to the front door. "Sir, please don't 
think I'm not grateful for this information, but..."

"But I could just as easily have delivered it over the 
phone?" Skinner glanced down the hallway to the bedroom 
and cleared his throat.

Scully blinked. Skinner looked almost...sheepish.

"Let's just say I was in the neighborhood, Scully. Keep in 
touch."

Scully closed the door and leaned against it, bemused. 

Grey shrugged. "Like I said, Fox may be a pain in the ass, 
but he grows on you."

A yawn stole her reply. Scully stretched, wincing when 
stiff muscles twanged. "You'd better hit the road if you 
want to catch Kristen still awake."

Grey ambled into the kitchen and pulled a bottle of water 
from the refrigerator. "Not a problem. I phoned her while 
you were in with Fox and let her know I'd be crashing on 
your couch."

Scully swallowed and took a steadying breath. "You are?"

"I already told you, darlin'. I'll be right here as long as you 
need me."

"It won't happen again." She said it with a confidence she 
didn't feel. Grey's carefully neutral expression told her he 
knew it.

She busied herself retrieving sheets and a blanket from the 
linen closet, then helped him make up the sofa. In the back 
of her mind, she acknowledged that she was stalling. 
Afraid--not of Mulder, but of whatever new nightmare 
might wear her face.

*"Stop...hurts. Scully...no."*

Grey took the soft cotton blanket from her restless fingers. 
"It's going to be all right."

"Will it?"

"Eventually."

She mustered a smile as transparent as her earlier show of 
confidence. "Good night, Grey."

"Good night, Dana."

At the bedroom door, she heard him murmur, "Sweet 
dreams."

Squeezing her eyes shut, she prayed they would be.


Chapter 9

Georgetown
Monday
2:33 AM


*Oh, God. It hurts!

Logic tells him struggling is useless--the bright beam 
pinning him to the table is relentless, unbeatable. Fighting 
to break free only expends energy his wasted body can't 
afford to lose.

A crack, like a pencil snapping, and logic disappears, 
obliterated by his bloodcurdling shrieks. Screams that 
scour raw nerve endings, wring tears from his eyes, but 
never pass his lips--the light that immobilizes him also 
renders him mute.

"Resistance is futile, Mulder. Haven't you learned that by 
now? Cooperation is the only way you'll survive."

The seductive whisper is as great a torment as broken 
bones. Scully's sweet voice, her warm breath tickling his 
ear, the soft curve of her cheek. He can't even close his eyes 
to block out the beautiful, terrible sight.

"Talk to me, Mulder. Tell me what you're feeling. On a 
scale of one to ten, how bad is the pain?"

The light winks out, releasing him. Flinching from her 
touch, he moans, the low cry of an animal in pain. He 
slams his eyes shut and shudders course through his body--
pain, shock, fear. 

But he can't shut out her voice.

"Tell us what we need to know, love, and I'll help you. I'll 
give you something for the pain and hold you until you fall 
asleep."

He wants it so badly, the comfort only she can give. Yearns 
to feel her arms, her body. Velvet and steel, solace and 
strength. The face, the words, the tone--everything is right 
except the eyes. Flat. Assessing. Devoid of human warmth 
and emotion.

Alien.

"NOOOOOO!"*


Mulder bolted upright, choking back a scream. Heart 
pounding, he wrapped his arms around his body and 
panted. Sweat trickled into his eyes and plastered his tee 
shirt to his chest. He held up trembling hands, flexing his 
fingers.

Beside him, Scully slept the sleep of the exhausted. He 
leaned in closer, resisting the urge wake her. Lips slightly 
parted, respiration slow and deep, her warm breath 
feathered across his cheek. 

*"Resistance is futile, Mulder. Haven't you learned that by 
now? Cooperation is the only way you'll survive."*

Mulder jerked backward, shivering. Brow furrowed, Scully 
murmured a soft protest and then quieted. Swallowing hard, 
he swiped the moisture from his face with the hem of his 
shirt and slipped out of bed, careful not to shake the 
mattress.

He wandered into the living room and picked up the remote 
control, his finger poised over the button when he noticed 
the outline of a body on the couch. Grey sprawled across 
the cushions, cocooned in a blanket. Like Scully, he slept 
soundly, oblivious to Mulder's restless prowling.

He paced to the window and stared at the glowing 
streetlights and frosted car windows. The desire to run, to 
feel the crisp night air on his face and hear the slap of shoes 
on pavement, nearly overpowered him. Rubbing a hand 
over his protruding collarbone and too prominent ribs, he 
remembered the look on Grey's face when he'd stripped off 
his hospital gown and wondered how long it would be 
before his wasted body was capable of running again.

When his legs began feeling wobbly, he padded into the 
kitchen. Eschewing the overhead light for fear of waking 
Grey, he pulled a carton of milk from the refrigerator and 
sat down at the table.

He'd consumed about a third of the carton and was staring 
morosely at the ticking clock when the lights clicked on.

"Fox?" Grey stood in the doorway, rubbing his eyes. "What 
were you doing here in the dark?"

"Drinking milk." Mulder raised the carton. "Care to join 
me?"

"Thanks, but I think I'd rather have juice." Grey grabbed a 
glass from the cupboard, filled it, and dropped into the 
chair beside his brother's. He wrinkled his nose when 
Mulder took another swig. "You're going to catch hell if 
Dana sees you doing that."

Mulder shook his head. "Shows how much you know. 
Scully and I already faced off on this issue and negotiated a 
mutually agreeable solution." He tapped the label. "This is 
two percent. Scully prefers nonfat. She always makes sure I 
have my own carton so I canô" His voice caught and he 
blinked at the container.

"What?"

"I've been gone three months. Scully left here on the spur 
of the moment, with no guarantee she'd be bringing me 
home. Why would this be in the refrigerator?"

"Faith? Hope?" Grey smiled. "She never gave up on you, 
Fox. Not for a minute."

Suddenly the carton seemed to weigh ten pounds. Mulder 
set it down with a thud and buried his face in his hands.

"Fox? Are you all right?"

He peered through his fingers. "Me? I'm on the top of the 
world, can't you tell?" He hated the cautious, gentle 
expression that was Grey's response. 

"No one else expects you to ignore the past three months 
and just pick up where you left off, Fox. Why do you?"

"What I expect is for you to be my brother and not my 
shrink. *I'm* the psychologist, remember? And as you may 
recall, I've had more than a passing acquaintance with post-
traumatic stress."

"This is different."

"Why? Because after twenty-eight years I finally got what 
was coming to me?"

"How about you can the pissy act and tell me why you 
were sitting here in the dark instead of curled up in bed 
with your wife?"

"Iô" He drew in a shaky breath. Half of him needed to tell 
Grey, ached to unburden himself. The other was terrified of 
putting voice to the horror. "I remembered something"

*"Talk to me, Mulder. Tell me what you're feeling. On a 
scale of one to ten, how bad is the pain?"*

He shivered, squeezing his eyes shut and knotting his 
fingers in his hair. "Shit!"

Time slipped its track. The next thing Mulder knew, Grey 
was rubbing the nape of his neck and making soothing 
sounds. He concentrated, and the sounds gradually resolved 
themselves into words.

"ôjust a memory, Fox. It's over now. You're home. You're 
safe."

"I'm okay," he panted. His head throbbed and his eyes felt 
hot and scratchy. "I'm okay."

"'Course you are." Grey sat back, lines creasing his 
forehead and marring his smile. 

Mulder braced himself for interrogation, surprised when 
Grey got up and walked out of the room. Reappearing 
moments later, he poured a glass of water and placed it and 
two Tylenol on the table.

He stared at the offering, then picked them up. "How'd you 
know I have a headache?"

"Your face gets squinty."

He nearly inhaled the pills. "My face gets *squinty*?"

"Yeah. You know." Grey scrunched up his own features.

Mulder shook his head. "I'm not sure what's scarier--that 
you're right about the headache or that you used the same 
word Scully does."

Several minutes of silence passed before he realized Grey 
was waiting him out. He looked down at his hands, flexing 
and curling the fingers.

"They, uhô" His voice cracked and he cleared his throat. 
"They broke my fingers. All of them. One by one."

He looked at Grey, gauging his reaction. His brother licked 
his lips but his expression remained calm. Only his hands, 
slowly curling into fists, gave away his anger. Grey finally 
spoke in a tight, controlled voice.

"Do you have any idea why they did it? Did they speak to 
you?"

Mulder's throat closed up but he ground out a reply. "Let's 
just say I've developed a whole new perspective on lab 
rats." He cocked his head. "You want to tell me why you 
don't seem all that surprised?"

Grey closed his eyes. "The x-rays, the MRIô"

Milk and water churned in his stomach. Mulder breathed 
through his nose, fighting the nausea. "There's more?"

Grey sighed and opened his eyes. "Lots more."

"Great. Something I can look forward to." He pressed both 
palms to the table and spread his fingers. "There's no 
residual pain. No impairment of mobility. I'm completely 
healed. How can that be?"

"We were kind of hoping you could tell us."

Mulder scowled but said nothing.

Another long silence stretched between them. Grey slid his 
hand across the table and clasped Mulder's arm. "Fox. What 
aren't you telling me?"

Mulder looked away. "I don't know what you mean."

"There's something else bothering you. Something more."

"What? Like the Great Fox Mulder Lab Experiment isn't 
enough?"

"Look, you can deny it all you like. But I know you, and I 
can tell when you aren't leveling with me."

"Let me guess--my face gets squinty."

"All I'm saying is that you need to talk to someone. If not 
me, then maybe Dana--" 

Mulder cut him off, horrified. "Scully is the *last* person I 
could tell."

"Okaaaay."

Mulder shoved back his chair, snatched up the carton of 
milk and returned it to the refrigerator. Bottles clanked and 
rattled when he slammed the door shut, then pressed his 
forehead to the cool metal. It was a long time before he 
spoke.

"There's a little detail I may have forgotten to share about 
our alien friends--some of them are shapeshifters. They can 
duplicate any human form; that's how they move among us 
without detection. They're good, too. It's nearly impossible 
to distinguish the copy from the real person."

Grey leaned forward.

"Theyôahôthey talked to me as they broke my fingers. 
Asked me questions. I couldn't get away, couldn't *move*, 
pinned down like a bug by that damn light--" He sucked in 
a deep breath. "They wanted to know exactly how it felt. 
How bad was the pain on a scale of one to ten? Did I build 
up a tolerance or did the degree of discomfort increase 
exponentially with each finger? The fact that they showed 
no empathy, only cold, clinical detachment, was almost as 
terrifying as the pain."

"I can't imagine--"

"No. You can't." Mulder turned and leaned against the 
appliance, wrapped in a self-hug. "Refusing to answer 
pissed them off. At first they tried upping the pain. When I 
still wouldn't give them what they needed, they came up 
with a different strategy. Suddenlyôsuddenly the leader of 
the alien inquisition looked a hell of a lot like my wife." 
Legs folding, he slid slowly down to the floor and rested 
his head on his knees.

Grey slipped out of his chair and sat beside his brother on 
the cold tile. Mulder leaned into him, drawing strength 
from the simple contact. He choked out a ragged laugh. "I 
guess it explains why I nearly strangled Scully."

"She understands, Fox. In fact, she suspected something 
like this."

"Is that supposed to make me feel better? What they did, 
using Scully against me, was worse than 1000 broken 
bones. They stole the one thing in my life that I trust 
without reservation. How am I supposed to get it back?"

He felt Grey's hand, warm and solid, rest on his bowed 
head. "You don't have to get it back, little brother. You 
haven't lost it. Sure, they've got you confused, all twisted 
up inside. But you said it yourself--you trust it without 
reservation. Trust *her* without reservation. What 
happened to you just puts that to the test."

"When you say it like that, it sounds easy."

"Hell, no. I can pretty much guarantee nothing's going to be 
easy for a long time." He removed his hand, a tough edge 
creeping into his voice. "Fox, for three months I watched 
that woman focus mind, body, and soul on a single goal--
finding you and bringing you home. Nothing else mattered. 
Don't you dare give her anything less."

Mulder turned his face toward Grey. "I never said I 
deserved her."

"Yeah? Well, you're in luck, 'cause she seems to think you 
do." He shifted, grimacing. "And on that note, I suggest we 
either move this discussion to the table or go back to bed. 
I'm freezing my ass off."

Mulder accepted the outstretched hand and allowed Grey to 
haul him upright. Baring his soul to his brother was both 
liberating and exhausting. Suddenly sleep sounded like a 
very good idea.

"Bed," he replied around a yawn. For the first time he 
really noticed the dark shadows under Grey's eyes. "You 
look like you need it as bad as I do."

Grey shrugged, one corner of his mouth turned up in a self-
deprecating grin. "I've been having a little trouble with 
insomnia, but I think it'll be better now."

"Thanks." Mulder's voice wavered and his eyes burned. He 
gritted his teeth, cursing emotions too close to the surface.

"You're welcome. For what?"

"Being here. Listening." He huffed. "Kicking my ass for 
trying to wallow in self-pity."

"Hey, I'm you're big brother. Kicking your ass is not only a 
pleasure, it's an obligation."

They stared awkwardly at each other for a few moments 
before Grey pulled Mulder into a careful hug. "In case I 
forgot to mention it, it's really good having you home."

Mulder nodded, not trusting his voice. He waited until Grey 
had settled back onto the couch before shutting off the 
lights and feeling his way back down the hall to the 
bedroom.

Moonlight seeped through the blinds and spilled across the 
bed. Scully slept peacefully, lying on her stomach with her 
face turned toward the door. He stood over her for a long 
time, mesmerized by the muted fire of her hair, the delicate 
fringe of lashes, the pale shell of an ear.

When he slipped into bed, Scully rolled onto her side and 
her eyes fluttered open. "Mulder?" She touched his cheek, 
brushed her fingers through his hair. "Are you all right?"

He looked into eyes filled with warmth, affection, and 
concern and the weight in his chest eased. "I just needed a 
drink of water. Sorry I woke you."

She scooted over, tangling their legs and laying her head on 
his chest. "Your feet are like ice."

He pressed a kiss to her forehead. "It's a shameless ploy for 
shared body heat. Looks like it worked."

She tightened the arm around his waist. "And it didn't even 
have to rain sleeping bags."

He chuckled. The laughter felt rusty and unfamiliar, as if 
pulled from mothballs after a long season if disuse, but 
amazingly good. Mulder was still smiling as he sank into 
dreamless sleep.


Chapter 10

Georgetown
Monday
9:12 AM


The front door slammed shut and Grey staggered into the 
kitchen. He held a large bag of groceries in each arm and a 
white paper sack in his mouth.

"Honey, I'm home!" he sing-songed between clenched 
teeth.

Scully set her coffee mug on the table and grabbed the 
damp bag, wrinkling her nose. "I wondered where you'd 
gone." She peered inside. "Danishes? From Harner's?"

"Yup." Grey began unpacking the grocery bags.

Scully raised an eyebrow as he spread a banquet spread 
across the counter. "Filet mignon? Baking potatoes? Sour 
cream, fresh bread...*Double Stuff Oreos*?"

"Good with a tall glass of milk."

"Grey..."

"The cupboards were bare."

"So you stocked up on all of Mulder's vices."

"Hey, we've got some good sources of protein and fiber 
here."

"And fat, and cholesterol..." She trailed off. Despite Grey's 
banter, she could read grim determination in his level gaze.

"He looks like a stiff breeze could blow him away, Dana."

She sighed, surrendering. "Don't bother freezing the steaks; 
we can have them tonight. We'll make it a special 'welcome 
home' party. Call Kristen and ask her to join us."

"Will do." He tucked the sour cream and a carton of milk 
into the refrigerator. "Where's the guest of honor?"

"Still sleeping, last I checked." She frowned. "The 
diazepam must have hit him harder than I thought. He's 
been out for nearly eleven hours."

Grey cleared his throat. "Uh...not exactly."

"What do you mean?"

"He had a little trouble during the night."

"Define 'a little trouble'."

"A nightmare." Grey grimaced and began unpacking the 
second bag. "Actually, more like a memory."

Scully grabbed his wrist. "Mulder remembered 
something?"

"Yeah."

"Well? What was it?" Scully flushed when Grey gently 
pried her fingers from his arm and she saw the small 
crescent-shaped marks her nails left behind. "Sorry."

He gestured for her to sit. Scully sank into her chair, 
watching through narrowed eyes as he leaned back against 
the counter and drew in a deep breath.

"He remembered them breaking his fingers."

She clasped trembling hands together and rested them in 
her lap. "How explicit was the memory?"

"He didn't go into a lot of detail, but..." Grey paused, teeth 
clenched, then continued in a monotone. "From what I can 
gather, they treated him like a science project. He said they 
asked questions as they hurt him. Quizzed him about the 
pain."

 "God." Scully tightened her fingers until her knuckles 
turned white.

"It gets worse, Dana."

"I know where this is going, Grey. Was I the one breaking 
fingers or the one asking questions?"

"I, ah, guess they thought maybe he'd talk to you."

Scully closed her eyes, swiping at errant tears that leaked 
past her defenses. "I saw this coming, but..." 

She stood and picked up her empty mug. Grey shifted, 
giving her access to the sink, and continued to watch her.

"Dana."

"I expected this. I did."

"All right, so you expected it. That doesn't mean you can't 
be hurt by it. Or extremely pissed off. Dana..." He ducked 
his head, peering into her eyes. "Give it some time. You 
two will get past this."

She shut off the water and faced him, heedless of the 
droplets that trickled down her arms and dripped onto the 
floor. "I know we'll get past this. After all, coping is what 
Mulder and I do best. We spend our lives recovering from 
one tragedy after another. Well, I'm tired of it, Grey. 
Mulder deserves better than this. We both do."

Grey frowned. "What are you saying?"

She turned her back to him, snatching up the dishtowel and 
drying her hands. "Nothing. I just...I have some thinking to 
do."

"Do I smell coffee?"

Scully spun around, forcing a smile that felt unconvincing. 
Mulder shuffled over to the table, dropping into a chair 
with a soft grunt. She studied his damp hair and clean 
clothing with pursed lips, grateful to focus on something 
else.

"You showered."

"I smelled, therefore I showered." Mulder inhaled, eyes 
half-closed with bliss. "Now, did someone mention 
coffee?"

"Yes, there's coffee." She held up her finger. "And no, you 
can't have any. It's on the list of restrictions Dr. Hammond 
sent home with you. Right next to showering without 
supervision."

Mulder batted his lashes, lowering his voice. "Baby, you 
can be my shower chaperone any time you like. All you 
had to do was ask."

"I'm serious, Mulder. You're still too weak. You could have 
fainted, hit your head."

"First of all, real men don't faint. We black out, keel over, 
lose consciousness." When she glared at him, he huffed, 
"I'm fine, Scully."

"Catch." Grey tossed him the white sack.

Mulder fielded it and peeked inside. "Harner's!" He bit into 
a Danish, moaning as he chewed.

Scully's lips turned up but she shook her head. "You're 
going to regret that, Mulder."

"Don't tell me--it's on the list," Mulder said around another 
mouthful of pastry. He turned wistful eyes on Grey. 
"Coffee?"

Scully planted herself in front of the machine. "Over my 
dead body."

 Grey lifted both hands. "Sorry, little brother. I will NOT 
go there."

"Coward."

"Nope. Just blessed with a healthy sense of self-
preservation."

"Is that what you call it?"

Scully let them draw her in, reveling in the normality of 
their banter. Seeing Mulder like this, laughing and 
grumbling with Grey, she could forget about broken bones 
and scarred organs. Nightmares and panic attacks. 

At least, she could try. 

"Mulder, you have an appointment with Nick Brewer in a 
little over an hour. I'm going to get cleaned up."

"Need a little supervision, babe?"

She smiled, but her heart wasn't in it. "One hour, Mulder."


Georgetown Medical
11:06 AM


It was becoming harder and harder to sit still. Mulder paced 
the exam room, all arms and legs and nowhere to go. He 
picked up an otoscope and flicked it on, using it to examine 
first a diagram of the circulatory system and then his own 
hand. After plugging it back into its base, he plucked two 
tongue depressors from a jar and began drumming on any 
and all available surfaces. He sensed Scully's eyes 
following every movement, but she remained silent.

"I still don't see why we had to do this today." He beat a 
rapid tattoo on the counter, occasionally tapping a glass jar 
full of cotton balls for variety. "Hammond ran every test 
known to mankind on me, and he released me from the 
hospital."

"Reluctantly. And with the understanding that you would 
see your own physician as soon as possible." Scully 
tightened her lips. "Mulder. Please sit down."

He dropped the sticks onto the counter and, shying away 
from the exam table, snagged a small, wheeled stool. He sat 
on the vinyl seat, swiveling left, then right. Even though he 
knew he was driving Scully nuts, he couldn't stop himself.

"Mulder, what's going on? You know you can trust Nick. 
Just let him look you over; it won't take long."

"I'm fine, Scully. I can think of a million places I'd rather 
be, that's all." He spun left and glimpsed the cloth restraints 
dangling from the sides of the mattress. Suddenly his 
mouth felt bone dry, and the itchy, jittery sensation 
ratcheted up several notches. Scrambling to his feet, he 
backed toward the door. "I need some water."

"Mulder, my man!" Nick breezed into the room, a chart in 
his hand and a fish tie knotted around his neck. "It's good to 
see you. Even if you do look like hell." He tipped his head 
at Scully. "Dana."

"Nick."

Nick's smile faded as he set the chart on the counter and 
folded his arms. "I've gone over the records you forwarded 
to me, and..." He shook his head. "Well frankly, I'm 
speechless."

"Welcome to the X-Files. They have that effect on the 
uninitiated."

Scully frowned at Mulder's flat, emotionless tone. "You 
know what we do, Nick. Mulder's told you about quite a 
few of our cases, not to mention the fact that you had a 
ringside seat when he nearly died from the alien virus."

Nick scratched his head. "Weeell, I don't exactly remember 
you calling it 'alien' at the time, but I've gleaned enough 
information since to put it all together." He looked at each 
of them with sharp eyes. "I know you both believe in the 
existence of extraterrestrial life. And that over the years 
you've seen some things that you feel corroborate that 
belief."

Mulder snorted softly. "Yeah. Well, now I could give 
whole new meaning to the term 'eye witness.'"

Nick's eyes narrowed. "What are you saying? The 
information I received states that you incurred your injuries 
in the line of duty. That you were abducted and held against 
your will for over three months."

"All true."

"Well then maybe you can explain how you survived the 
kind of trauma evidenced by the x-rays and MRI. Because 
as much as you've proven to be the comeback kid, there's 
no way in hell you should be breathing right now."

Mulder shook his head. "Nick, Nick. You're not thinking 
X-Files. Extreme possibilities, remember?"

"Mulder," Scully warned. 

A small piece of him felt remorse for playing with Brewer's 
head just to delay the inevitable.

Nick sucked in a quick breath. "Wait a minute, wait a 
minute. Are you trying to tell me *aliens* abducted you?"

Mulder tapped his nose.

Nick blinked, mouth hanging open. "My God."

"Had nothing to do with it."

"Mulder."

"Okay, let me get this straight. Aliens...," Brewer made a 
spiraling motion with his finger, "...beamed you up. And 
did this to you? How--"

"I don't remember."

Brewer raised his eyebrows.

"I don't...at first it was all a blank." Mulder stared at a point 
just past Brewer's shoulder. "It's starting to come back, in 
small pieces."

"Okay." Nick stroked his chin. "Why don't you, ah, hop up 
here and take off your shirt." He patted the exam table.

Mulder pushed down a spike of anxiety and seated himself 
on the mattress. Stripping off his tee shirt, he tossed it to 
Scully. He shivered, holding his body rigid as the cool air 
raised goosebumps.

Nick looked up from the chart and grimaced. "God, 
Mulder, what did they do, put you on some kind of alien 
Weight Watchers?"

The irreverent humor was exactly what he needed. Mulder 
relaxed, the stiff muscles in his back loosening. "You've got 
a hell of a bedside manner, Brewer. Didn't they teach you 
anything in med school?"

"They tried. 'Course, their approach was always a bit 
more...conservative than mine." He blew on his 
stethoscope, then pressed it to Mulder's chest. "Nice deep 
breaths."

Brewer proceeded to check respiration, heart rate, pupil 
response, the beds of his nails, and the whites of his eyes. 
He looked in Mulder's ears, nose, and throat and tested 
balance and coordination. Jotting a few notes on the chart, 
he sat back with a shrug.

"I have no explanation--but then, I don't think you expected 
one." When Scully pursed her lips and shook her head, he 
continued. "I'm troubled by the weight loss--I'm guessing 
you've dropped thirty pounds, and you never had it to lose. 
Along with the obvious weakness and fatigue, it puts you at 
high risk for whatever bug happens to be making the 
rounds--and there's plenty to choose from this time of year. 

"I want to give you an injection of, in simplistic terms, a 
vitamin cocktail. And I'll send an oral supplement home 
with you. You must take it, and the antibiotic Hammond 
prescribed, religiously." When Mulder made a face he held 
up a hand. "I'm very serious here, Mulder. We need to build 
you back up or the first cold that comes along will take you 
out at the knees. I'd also stick close to home, avoid public 
places for a couple weeks. By then you'll hopefully have 
regained some strength."

Mulder chuckled, but there was no humor in the sound.

"What?"

"Nick, I can't even get in an elevator right now without 
breaking into a cold sweat. I'm not exactly itching to go out 
on the town."

Nick glanced at Scully. "Yeah. About that. I'm sure you 
both realize Hammond made a strong recommendation for 
counseling."

Mulder chuffed. "Like that's going to happen."

"We haven't talked about it yet."

Mulder glared at Scully, irritated by the calm, firm tone of 
voice. "There's nothing to talk about."

"We'll discuss this later, Mulder."

"Who exactly do you expect me to see, Scully? Do we look 
in the yellow pages under Counseling dash Alien 
Abductees?"

"I told you, I'm not getting into this here."

"It doesn't matter where we 'get into this,' Scully, because 
the outcome will be the same. There's no way in hell I'm--"

Nick made a "time out" signal. "Whoa, whoa, whoa. I'm an 
internist, not a referee and this is certainly not the Monday 
night fights. Take off the gloves, kids."

They glared at each other, continuing the argument 
nonverbally. Mulder was the first to break eye contact.

"So when can I get out of here?"

"Like I said, I'm going to send someone in to give you that 
injection. And I think we'll draw some blood, do a full 
work up. Some of Hammond's results were pretty wonky 
and I'd like to double check the labs."

Mulder met Scully's gaze, seeing his own amusement 
reflected back. "Then let's get it over with."

"I'm on it. Mulder, you can go ahead and put your shirt 
back on. Dana, if you'll come with me for just a moment, I 
think we could use your signature on a couple forms."

"Subtle," Mulder muttered as Scully handed him the shirt.

Nick opened the door and flashed him a grin and a sloppy 
salute. "She'll be right back. I promise."

Mulder swung his legs, drumming his heels against the 
metal table. Realizing he was gripping the edges of the 
mattress with white-knuckled intensity, he rubbed sweaty 
palms on his thighs. A dull pressure throbbed behind his 
eyes and the jittery feeling returned with a vengeance, 
vibrating through his tense body. He desperately wished 
Scully would come back, hating the little-boy feeling of 
insecurity.

A nurse carrying a stainless steel tray pushed open the door 
with her hip and smiled at him. He tried to smile back, but 
the tray's contents drew his attention like steel to a magnet.

"Hi, Mr. Mulder, I'm Lisa. Dr. Brewer asked me to give 
you this B12 injection and draw some blood. Do you have a 
preference?"

"What?" His tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth and he 
felt lightheaded. When he forced himself to look at her, he 
saw she was asking which arm to use. "Um. Doesn't 
matter."

"All right, then. I'll make this as quick and painless as I 
can."

Soft rubber wrapped around his upper arm. He smelled the 
acrid bite of alcohol, felt cool wetness rub briskly over the 
crook of his elbow. A small pop, the cap coming off the 
hypodermic. Light glinting off the wickedly sharp needle. 
He stared at it, respiration doubling.

*Sharp, bright, stabbing agony. Needles in his arms, in his 
legs, in his neck. Blood, bright crimson, snaking through 
clear tubing and pooling in a large glass flask. His blood, 
pulsing, filling the container. Pumping. Heart pounding. 
NO! Move! Fight! Eyes--curious, watching, waiting. 
Scully! Help me! Bleeding. Ohgodohgod. So much blood. 
Can't move. Can't fight. Tired. So tired. Weight on his 
chest. Sinking. Fading. Scully. Please. No...*

"NO!"

Mulder fought back.


Chapter 11

Georgetown Medical
Monday
11:43 AM


"Give it to me straight."

Scully looked at the exam room door, then into Brewer's 
piercing blue eyes. "Considering what he's been through--"

"Straight, Dana. Save the bullshit for the Feds."

She folded her arms, then, recognizing the defensive body 
language, dropped them to her sides. "What do you want 
from me, Nick?"

"The truth. He's my patient, and after all we've been 
through I consider you both friends. I need to know how 
he's really doing, and not just physically."

A nurse squeezed past them and into the exam room. 
"You're going to get the same results on that blood test," 
Scully warned. "The anomalous levels of lymphocytes and 
glucocorticoids--all classic symptoms of prolonged 
exposure to a weightless environment."

Nick rubbed the back of his neck. "Give me a break, Dana. 
You two have knocked enough dents into my worldview 
for one day. And don't change the subject."

"I think you can guess how he's doing, Nick. The x-rays, 
the MRI--the evidence speaks for itself. For three months 
they systematically tortured Mulder. The physical marks 
may have healed, but not the wounds to his spirit." She 
shook her head. "Lack of appetite. Nightmares. Panic 
attacks. Every time he regains a memory the backlash is 
more intense, the repercussions more severe."

"Sounds like textbook PTSD. He's got to talk to someone, 
Dana."

"I'm not the one that needs convincing. You heard him."

"Yeah. Hate to say it, but he's got a point. Your average 
shrink is going to reach for the commitment papers five 
minutes after Mulder starts talking."

"Which leave us right back where we started. How do we 
get him the help he needs without--"

A cry of panic and a shrill scream filled the air. The clatter 
of metal and crash of broken glass immediately followed. 
Scully and Brewer bolted for the exam room.

Glass crunched and popped under Scully's feet as she ran 
into the room. A metal tray dangled from a shattered 
cabinet door. Reduced to shards, hypodermic needles and 
glass vials lay glittering on the floor. The nurse shivered 
and pressed herself against the wall. Blood oozed through 
her fingers as she pressed them to her nose.

"He's crazy," she sobbed, swiping at mascara-tinted tears 
when Brewer crouched down beside her. "He was a little 
freaked when I gave him the injection, but he went ballistic 
when I tried to draw blood--yelling, throwing things. He 
*hit* me, knocked me down."

"Calm down, Traci. You're all right."

"You didn't tell me he was dangerous. He belongs upstairs, 
not down here with..."

Scully scanned the room. The girl's sobs and Nick's 
soothing reassurances faded to the background. Small as 
the area was, moments passed before she spied him, folded 
up in a corner behind a crash cart and a rack of medical 
supplies. Knees clasped to his chest, head buried in his 
arms, he rocked back and forth.

"Mulder?"

Keeping her movements slow and deliberate, she got down 
on the floor and eased herself into his personal space, 
talking quietly in soothing tones.

"Mulder, it's me. You're all right. You're safe. No one is 
going to hurt you."

Mulder tightened his arms, rocking faster. He shook his 
head without lifting his face from its protective cradle. 
"Leave me alone. I know you're not her. Just...just leave me 
alone."

"Mulder, listen to me. I--"

"NO!"

She recoiled, scrambling back a few feet, but Mulder 
simply clamped both hands over his ears. He trembled, 
teeth chattering. "Please, stop. I can't...No more. No more."

Nick touched her shoulder and crouched down. "Traci went 
to get cleaned up. I convinced her we shouldn't call 
security. Am I wrong?"

"No! The last thing he needs is a stranger manhandling 
him, Nick. It would push him over the edge."

"Not a far trip from where I'm sitting." Despite his harsh 
words, Nick's eyes radiated concern. "Dana, you have to 
get him calmed down. I can't keep people out of here for 
long, especially once Traci starts running off at the mouth. 
I'll get a sedative--"

Scully shook her head, never taking her gaze off Mulder. "I 
already considered that, but it's no good, Nick. I'm pretty 
sure needles are what triggered this episode. If I approach 
him with a syringe..."

"Shit. You're right." Nick ran his fingers through his hair 
until it stood on end. "Okay, this is your call. What do you 
want me to do?"

"Leave us alone. Keep everyone out of here for at least five 
minutes. I know I can break through to him; I just need a 
little more time."

Nick made a face. "I'm not so sure that's a good plan, 
kiddo. He's dissociative. He already took out one of my 
nurses--what if he becomes violent?"

"He wouldn't hurt me. I'll be fine." She knew it was a lie, 
but tipped her chin up, looking Nick straight in the eye.

"Okay. Five minutes. But I'll be right outside, listening. If I 
hear anything..."

"I can handle this. Trust me."

"Just don't make me sorry I did."

"I won't. And Nick? Turn off the lights on your way out."

Nick froze, halfway to the door. "What?"

"You heard me. I've got an idea. Just--"

"Yeah, yeah. Trust you." Nick held his hand over the light 
switch for a long moment before flicking it off and leaving 
the room.

The sudden darkness was disorienting. Scully waited as her 
eyes gradually adjusted. The exam room had no windows, 
but light from the hallway filtered in through a frosted pane 
in the door. Eventually she could detect the shadowy 
outline of Mulder's body and the glitter of his eyes. He'd 
ceased rocking, but she could still sense his shivering.

"What...what's happening?"

"The light is gone, Mulder. The aliens are gone. There's just 
you and me. I promise I won't let anyone hurt you."

Mulder squeezed his eyes shut. "Blood. So much blood. I 
can't--"

"It was a memory, Mulder. Just a memory. They hurt you, 
hurt you terribly, but it's over and you're safe. I'm right 
here, love. Come back to me."

Mulder's voice rasped with sorrow. "They won't let me 
go...keep bringing me back. Please...don't let them bring me 
back."

Scully swallowed, her throat tight. "They can't hold you 
any more. See? The light is gone. You're free. You're safe."

"Sc...Scully?"

Thank God. Scully inched closer, tentatively stroking her 
fingers through his hair. "I'm right here, Mulder. Right 
here."

He reached up and latched onto her hand with a bone-
crushing grip. "I can't go back in there, Scully."

"Shh. You don't have to." She tugged on his hand, 
maneuvering him into her arms.

At first it was like hugging a board--Mulder held himself 
stiffly, resisting her stroking hands and soothing words. He 
was too weak to hold out for long. Little by little he relaxed 
into her rocking, his head heavy on her shoulder.

"Sorry." He muttered the word into the crook of her neck, 
his lashes feathering against the sensitive skin. "Think I 
scared the shit out of that nurse."

Scully carded her fingers through his hair, relieved to hear 
the wry humor despite an underlying tremor. "Let's just say 
she probably won't be joining the Fox Mulder fan club."

Mulder sat up, extricating himself from her embrace. 
"There's a club?"

Damn his resiliency. He was already recovering, shoring up 
his defenses and sliding the mask firmly into place.

The door cracked open and Nick slipped inside, no more 
than a shadowy outline in the darkness. "Hey there, 
Mulder. What's the word?"

"The word?" Mulder stood up and extended an unsteady 
hand to Scully. "The word is I'm done assaulting nurses--at 
least for today." He winced at his own bitterness. "You can 
turn on the lights, Nick."

Nick flicked the switch and they all stood blinking against 
the abrupt brilliance. Propping one hip on the counter and 
folding his arms, Nick examined Mulder from head to toe. 
"You want to tell us what that was all about?"

Mulder shrugged. "You know us big, tough FBI agents. 
We're all cowards when it comes to needles."

"Oh, I'm familiar with the type. It's just that the typical 
response is to faint, not give the nurse a bloody nose."

Mulder looked away and clenched his jaw. "I'll say it again-
-you've got a hell of a bedside manner, Nick."

"Look, I'm not trying to add to what I'm sure is a 
formidable stockpile of guilt. But I won't play let's pretend, 
either. What happened just now will continue to happen. If 
you don't get help dealing with the memories, they will eat 
you alive. For God's sake, Mulder! Next time Dana might 
be the one who draws your fire."

Mulder felt the words like a blow. He looked into Scully's 
face, hating the worry lines around her eyes and mouth. 
The confession slipped out, quiet and broken. "She already 
has." 

Scully hooked her little finger through his. "Did I just hear 
a breakthrough?"

"What do you want from me?"

Nick motioned for him to sit. "Sharing what you 
remembered is a start."

*Blood, bright crimson, snaking through clear tubing and 
pooling in a large glass flask.*

The room was shrinking, and the walls pressed inward, 
stealing his breath. Mulder shrugged free of Scully's grasp. 
Wrapping his arms around himself, he paced a restless 
circle, finally settling with his back against a wall.

"I must have been hallucinating. I don't see how it could be 
a true memory."

"What triggered it? The needle?" Scully asked.

Her mild, placating tone made Mulder feel like screaming. 
Anger mixed with the panic until it was difficult to separate 
one from the other. Mulder pinched the skin under his 
fingertips, using pain to drive back dark, irrational 
emotions.

"The needle started things rolling. But it was the sight of 
blood...my blood..." He tried licking his lips but didn't have 
enough spit. "I have this crazy image of them...taking my 
blood."

Scully and Brewer exchanged glances. "It's very possible, 
even likely, you lost some blood, Mulder. Your CBC 
indicated mild anemia, which--"

"You're not listening to me." Mulder snarled the rebuke, 
startled by the force of his own anger. He pinched himself 
again, twisting hard. "They didn't take *some* of my blood. 
They took *all* of it."

Nick frowned. "But that's...there's no way you'd be--"

"I know how it sounds, damn it! But I'm telling you, the 
flashback was crystal clear. I could see it, feel it. And I 
would swear..."

*Weight on his chest. Sinking. Fading.*

As he caught himself sliding down the wall, he straightened 
his buckling legs. Scully started toward him, but stopped. 
Her entire body tensed with the strain of respecting his 
need for distance. She blinked back tears and drew a shaky 
breath. 

"What? You would swear what, Mulder?"

Oh, God, he didn't want to think about this, and he sure as 
hell didn't want to talk about it. He shook his head, denying 
Scully's urging and Nick's stunned disbelief. He knew he 
was breathing too fast, could feel the chill of 
hyperventilation tingling through his extremities, but 
couldn't stop. Looking around the room, searching for some 
kind of distraction, he saw the two syringes, one partially 
filled with blood.

His blood.

*The bright red flow slows to a steady trickle. His eyes 
slide shut, the lids too heavy to resist. Fluttering like a 
butterfly's wings, his heart races. Falters. Stills. And then 
he breaks free, soaring above the pain, the fear. Reaching 
for peace and warmth, and a brilliance more beautiful than 
his mind can comprehend. Maybe this time, he thinks. God, 
if you're really there, help me. Please, please make them let 
me go...*

"Mulder!"

He heard a sharp crack, and heat flooded his cheek. 
Mulder tumbled back into his body, gasping. He was 
propped against the wall, ass on the linoleum--again. 
Scully knelt between his legs, peering anxiously into his 
eyes. She flinched when he raised a trembling hand to his 
stinging cheek.

"Are you all right?"

God, he was tired of that question. "I'm not sure." 

"You stopped breathing." Nick crouched down beside 
Scully, who was taking his pulse and checking his pupils. 
"Scared the hell out of us. Must have been some flashback."

He shivered, grateful when Scully stopped playing doctor 
and warmed his icy fingers with her own. "What happened, 
Mulder?"

"I remembered some more." The images faded but 
stubbornly clung to the corners of his mind.

"Tell me."

He swallowed, his dry throat clicking. "I died, Scully. I died 
again, and again, and again."


Chapter 12

Georgetown
Monday
1:16 PM


Grey had logged onto the computer and was wading 
through 156 new emails when he heard a key rattle in the 
lock. Deleting three more pieces of SPAM, he listened with 
one ear as Dana and Fox entered the apartment.

"Go and sit on the couch, Mulder."

"I'm thirsty. Damn stuff always gives me dry mouth." 

"Here, give me those. I--" The metallic clatter of keys 
hitting the hardwood floor, followed by Dana's 
longsuffering sigh. "Mulder."

"Sorry."

"I'll get you some juice. Just go sit down before you fall 
down."

Grey swiveled in his chair, watching his brother walk to the 
couch. He moved slowly and deliberately, as if 
concentrating on each step.

"Hey. How was the appointment?"

Fox listed a little to the left as he turned and sank into the 
cushions. He dropped his head onto the back of the couch. 
"Eye-opening." He smirked, the corners of his mouth 
turning up.

Okaaaay. Grey regarded the relaxed sprawl and serene 
demeanor. If he didn't know better... He leaned closer and 
peered into his brother's eyes. Sure enough, the pupils were 
abnormally dilated.

Dana emerged from the kitchen, carrying a tall glass of 
apple juice. She placed it into Fox's hand, steadying it 
before she let go. Meeting Grey's inquisitive stare, she 
subtly shook her head.

"I saw that." Fox sipped his juice, gaze moving between the 
two of them. "Just because I'm stoned doesn't mean I'm 
oblivious."

Grey frowned. "You're stoned?"

"Oh yeah."

Grey looked at Dana. "What the hell happened?"

"Standard procedure for any patient who assaults his 
nurse." Mulder saluted with his glass and apple juice nearly 
sloshed over the rim.

Scully rescued it and set it on the coffee table. "I think Nick 
was a little heavy handed with the Valium."

Mulder grinned goofily. "Good stuff. Even my bones are 
relaxed."

"Could we please go back to the bit about the nurse?" Grey 
didn't disguise the edge in his voice.

"I had a little flashback. No, wait--strike that. Biiiiig 
flashback. A 'somebody call the guys in the white coats' 
flashback." Mulder snuffled a laugh.

"While you were at the hospital?"

"Knocked Nurse Nancy clear across the room. Bet she 
didn't expect that when she came to work this morning. 
Nursing: It's not just a job, it's an adventure."

Grey recognized the guilt lurking beneath the sarcasm. "Is 
she all right?"

Dana sat beside Fox, resting one hand on his leg. "*Traci* 
is fine, more shaken up than anything. Nick calmed her 
down, explained the situation."

Mulder threw an arm over his eyes. "Probably something 
along the lines of 'Don't mind him. Ever since he was 
abducted and tortured by aliens he just hasn't been 
himself.'"

"Mulder."

"Sorry."

Dana tugged his arm away from his face. "You are 
traumatized, Mulder. Not crazy. There's a big difference."

Fox blew out a long breath and looked at her with ancient 
eyes. "Somehow I don't think Traci sees it that way."

"Considering what you think happened--"

"Not think. *Know*."

"--your reaction is perfectly understandable."

Grey raised his hand. "Yoohoo. Remember me? The guy 
who couldn't buy a clue?"

Dana looked at Fox, who extended his hand. She pursed her 
lips and thought for a moment before speaking. "Mulder 
remembers them taking his blood."

"What, like vampires?"

Mulder snickered. "He's come such a long way, hasn't he, 
Scully? I'm so proud."

Dana glared at him. "More like the Red Cross."

"Except the Red Cross generally doesn't drain you dry." 
Mulder yawned hugely, eyelids drooping.

"Drain you..." Grey trailed off. "But taking all your blood 
would kill you."

"Give the man a cigar," Mulder mumbled, closing his eyes.

"Fox?"

"I died, Grey. Many times."

Grey looked at Scully. "How could that be?"

"How can we possibly guess what they're capable of? From 
what we've seen, they can run circles around us 
technologically. And, if we're to believe even a fraction of 
the abduction accounts, they've been experimenting on 
humans for years."

"Using humans as guinea pigs is one thing. But bringing 
them back from the dead?"

"I understand the finality of death, Grey, it's in my damn 
job description. For God's sake, we're talking about my 
husband! Do you think this is easy for me?"

Grey mustered a weak smile. "I see your point." He took a 
deep breath. "So you believe Fox is right? That this 
flashback was a recovered memory?"

"It explains the x-rays, the MRI. It makes no sense that 
Mulder survived such massive trauma."

"Because he didn't." Grey rubbed the back of his neck, 
unable to soothe the tension. "Dear God, Fox, no wonder 
you needed the Valium. I could use a hit myself."

"He dropped off a moment ago." Smiling, Dana stroked a 
lock of hair from Mulder's eyes. "He really needs a 
haircut." She stood and collected the half-filled glass of 
juice. "I don't know about you, but since Valium's not an 
option I think I'll take a cup of coffee."

Grey hauled himself upright. "You just going to leave him 
like that?"

"Leave him this moment of peace, Grey. Knowing Mulder, 
he won't be out for long."

Grey sat at the kitchen table, watching Scully set up the 
coffee maker. She moved with competent efficiency, 
shoulders straight hands busy. He propped his chin on one 
fist and studied her from the corner of his eye.

"Want to tell me about it?"

Dana faltered, spilling coffee grounds on the counter. "No," 
she said, reaching for a sponge.

"Why not? Dana, I can see this scared the hell out of you. 
Talk to me."

She didn't move for a moment, then dropped the sponge 
into the sink. After taking a long look into the living room, 
she joined Grey at the table. Leaning in close, she pitched 
her voice just above a whisper.

"This was worse than anything we've seen so far. He was 
out of it for at least five minutes, Grey. I was terrified 
someone would call psych services and he'd wind up 
admitted. Thank God, Nick keeps a calm head in a crisis."

"What provoked this? Were you there when it happened?"

"Nick wanted a blood sample."

"Oh, God."

"We'd stepped into the hallway to talk. I saw the nurse go 
into the exam room, but it never occurred to me--"

"Of course it didn't. We both know flashbacks are highly 
unpredictable."

"By the time I got back into the room, the nurse was on the 
floor and Mulder was huddled in a corner babbling about 
blood and begging 'them' to stop." She bit her lip, her eyes 
misting with tears.

"How did you break through to him?"

"Luck, mostly. I figured the environment was contributing 
to Mulder's delusion--the medical equipment, the smells, 
the bright lights. So I asked Nick to turn out the lights and 
sent him out of the room."

Grey sat up straight. "The light! That's how they 
immobilized him."

Dana nodded. "Once the room was dark and we were alone, 
he snapped out of it."

"Did Brewer have to sedate him? I hate seeing him like 
that."

"After the flashback, when Mulder was telling us what he'd 
remembered, it triggered some kind of panic attack."

"Like the one in the elevator?"

"Worse. Much worse."  She pressed her fingers against 
trembling lips. "He stopped breathing, Grey."

He shivered, goosebumps tingling his skin. "Stopped?"

"Just for a few seconds, but--"

"Dana, there's no 'just' to not breathing." Grey got up and 
rummaged through the cupboard for two mugs. He poured 
the coffee with unsteady hands and gave one to Dana.

"What are you thinking?" she asked as he gulped down the 
hot brew.

"I'm thinking I'd like to string the little bastards up and give 
them a taste of their own medicine." When she didn't 
respond, he returned to the table. "What are you thinking?"

"That we've only seen the tip of the iceberg. That things 
will likely get worse before they get better." She tipped her 
chin up. "And that I will *not* lose him to this."

God, she was so much like Kate. Strong. Stubborn. 
Tenacious as hell when it came to protecting the ones she 
loved. 

"I'm right there with you, darlin'."

"At least something positive came from the whole mess. I 
think Mulder finally realizes he needs help."

"Sometimes you have to hit bottom before you realize how 
far you've fallen."

"Sounds like the voice of experience."

Grey rolled the cup between his palms. "When Kate died, 
I...lost myself for a while. I suppose it was inevitable. For 
months I'd eaten and rested just enough to keep 
functioning. Taking care of Kate, being there for her in 
every way possible, had become my whole life. And then 
she was gone, and I felt as if a big piece of me went with 
her."

Dana rested her hand on his arm. "Your partner used the 
word 'decimated.' He said he feared you might never pull 
out of it."

"It felt as if I'd fallen into a deep hole. I could see light up 
above, but it was too far away and I was too damn tired to 
climb back out. Mark and the other guys at work, my 
family--they tried everything they could think of to reach 
me. But it wasn't enough. I just kept falling."

"What happened?"

A memory flickered through his mind--waking up on the 
bedroom floor surrounded by old photos and empty beer 
bottles, a headache pounding behind his eyes, a terrible 
taste in his mouth, and his gun clutched in one hand. 
"Probably the same thing that happened to Fox--I scared 
the hell out of myself. I finally had to acknowledge how 
deep I'd gotten."

He sighed, grinding the heel of one hand into his eye. "I 
started attending a support group for people who'd lost 
loved ones to cancer. And I quit shutting myself off from 
friends and family." He chuffed. "Well, I tried."

Dana squeezed his arm. "I'm glad you turned things around. 
And that they got better."

"I'll be honest with you, Dana. Things didn't get better--not 
at first. For a very long time the only thing getting me out 
of bed each morning was pigheaded stubbornness." He 
smiled. "And knowing Kate would've kicked my ass six 
ways to Sunday if I'd given up."

Dana sipped her coffee, smiling around the rim of the cup. 
"Well, the stubbornness seems to be hereditary. And I think 
the two of us can provide the ass kicking."

"Got that right." Grey sobered. "All I'm saying is that we 
shouldn't set the bar too high. After what Fox has gone 
through...well... Let's just say running is highly overrated. 
Sometimes just putting one foot in front of the other is a 
major victory."

"You know, you..."

The phone trilled, cutting off her reply. Scully grabbed for 
the receiver, catching it on the second ring.

"Hello?" She stiffened her spine, turning her full attention 
to the caller. "You did?...Are you sure?...What do you 
mean, Langly *thinks* --either it is or it isn't..."

Fox appeared in the doorway, rumpled and glassy-eyed. 
"Who's Scully talking to?"

"Sounds like Byers or Frohike."

"Byers and Frohike don't sound anything alike."

"Uh...yeah. Why don't you come and sit down?" Grey 
nudged a chair from the table with his foot, keeping an eye 
on his brother and an ear on Dana.

"All right. All right! I'll be there in a few minutes...Yes...In 
your dreams, Frohike."

Well, that answered that question.

Scully hung up and looked at Mulder, slumped in his chair. 
"That was the guys. They've been playing with that funny 
rock you found, Mulder, and they think they've figured out 
what it is. I'm going over there now."

Mulder caught her arm as she stood, much of the sleepiness 
fading from his eyes. "You said they figured it out. What is 
it?"

"They're speculating, Mulder. You know those three--
Langly still thinks metal detectors are--"

"Scully. What is it?"

She searched his face, uncertain. When he stared back at 
her, fingers tightening, she sighed. "They say it's a tracking 
device, Mulder. That it called the ship that abducted you." 


Chapter 13

Lone Gunmen Headquarters
Monday
2:59 PM

Scully shut off the engine but didn't move, staring out the 
window at the Gunmen's scratched and pitted door. Curling 
her fingers more tightly around the steering wheel, she 
sighed and slowly turned toward Mulder. He was out cold, 
his head pressed against the passenger window, breath 
fogging the glass.

"Are you okay?" Grey braced his arms on the seatback, 
frowning.

"No." She couldn't tear her eyes from Mulder's face--pale, 
gaunt, but peaceful. "I don't think I'm going to be okay for 
quite some time."

Grey squeezed her shoulder, his long fingers massaging 
tense muscles. "One foot in front of the other, darlin'. " He 
got out of the car but leaned back inside. "You'd better 
wake Sleeping Beauty or I'm gonna get an armful when I 
open his door."

"In your dreams, Bubba." Mulder sat up, wincing, and 
rolled his shoulders.

Grey tugged open Mulder's door. "Well, hey there, Fox. 
Nice of you to join us."

Mulder rubbed a hand over his face. "Water?"

Scully pulled a bottle from the cup holder. He drained half 
the contents and replaced the cap, smirking a little at Grey, 
who was shuffling his feet and rubbing his hands.

"Either he's really got to pee or he's freezing his ass off. 
Either way, we'd better go."

Mulder leaned against the side of the building and listened 
to the shotgun pop of disengaging locks, bemused that he 
found such a paranoid sound comforting. The door finally 
swung open and he followed Scully inside. 

"Hey, Hickey. Long time no--" His glib greeting cut off in 
a grunt as Frohike grabbed him in a bear hug.

"Mulder. Thought we'd lost you, buddy."

The genuine emotion in the man's voice made Mulder's 
throat hurt. Blinking stinging eyes, he awkwardly patted 
Frohike's shoulder. "How many times do I have to tell you, 
Melvin? Not in front of Scully."

"Hey, look who's here! Mulder, my man. You look 
like...crap. Ow!" Langly rubbed his side and glared at 
Frohike. "What was that for?"

"You look like crap?"

"He does!"

Byers stepped around his bickering friends and clasped 
Mulder's hand. "Welcome back, Mulder. Things weren't the 
same without you."

Mulder returned the pressure. "That's supposed to be a 
compliment--right?"

"Who else was there to fuel their conspiracy theories?" 
Scully said dryly.  "Face it Mulder--you're a paranoid's wet 
dream."

"I love it when she talks dirty," Frohike moaned.

Scully rolled her eyes. "Langly? The rock?"

"Over here." Langly led them to a workbench littered with 
computers and other assorted equipment. Mulder's "rock" 
lay in one of the few uncluttered spaces. "We started 
working on it as soon as your bro' dropped it by this 
morning," he said with a nod to Grey. "First off, it's not a 
rock."

Mulder leaned over Langly's shoulder. "Not exactly a news 
flash."

"We ran a bunch of tests on the material and came up 
empty."

"What does that mean?" Grey asked.

Frohike looked at him over the top of his glasses. "It means 
it's not made from any known substance--on this planet 
anyway."

"It's harder than steel," Byers chimed in. "We took a blow 
torch to it. It didn't even get warm."

"Yeah, but it heats up when you hold it." Frohike shook his 
head. "Weirdness."

"Heats up? The damn thing nearly burnt through my palm." 
Mulder rubbed his thumb over the healed flesh.

"You're taking this well, Mulder. Gotta admit, I'd be 
freaking," Langly said.

"I'm on very good drugs."

"Cool."

"You said you think it called the ship that abducted Mulder. 
How?" Scully asked.

Langly dragged a piece of equipment closer and turned it 
on with a flick of his thumb. "This is a type of oscilloscope. 
It measures sound frequency. We borrowed it from a 
friend."

"You are probably aware that sound, put simply, is a 
vibration through an elastic solid, a liquid or a gas," Byers 
said. "Sound waves travel outward in all directions from 
the source."

Mulder nodded. "Frequency is a measure of the vibrations 
per second."

"Exactly. We express frequency in Hertz, which 
corresponds directly to the pitch of a sound. Optimally, 
people can hear from 20 to 20,000 Hertz."

"Let me guess. You're going to tell me this thing," Mulder 
gestured to the rock, "is emitting sound undetectable to the 
human ear."

"Good guess," Langly replied.

Grey frowned at the oscilloscope. "That thing's on, right? I 
mean, I can see it registering our voices. So where's the 
sound waves from the rock?"

Frohike looked gleeful. "Pick it up."

"Huh?"

"Somebody pick it up."

Scully lifted the rock. Immediately, the oscilloscope sped 
up, the display registering 30 kHz. Startled, she dropped it 
back onto the counter and the readout fell to zero.

"Wow," Grey breathed. He tentatively extended a hand 
and, after a moment's hesitation, picked up the rock. 

This time the machine jumped to nearly 45 kHz. Frohike 
whistled, shaking his head as they all stared at the reading. 
After a moment Grey released the rock and let it tumble 
back onto the bench. Hissing, he rubbed his palm.

"Damn it! That thing burns!"

"It never got hot for any of us." Langly poked the rock with 
one finger. "And our readings were around 30 kHz, like 
Scully's."

Silence, then five pairs of eyes fastened on Mulder. He 
licked his lips.

"Guess this is where I'm supposed to give it a try."

"Mulder, wait." Scully put her hand on his arm, holding 
him in place. "I'm not so sure you should touch that thing. 
If it is some kind of calling device..."

"Damn straight! We all know what happened last time," 
Grey muttered.

Mulder stared at the rock. The thought that such an 
innocuous package could conceal advanced technology 
both fueled his curiosity and sent a flicker of apprehension 
to the pit of his stomach.

"There's no other way." He looked at the others, his face set 
in a blank, emotionless mask. "We need to know--*I* need 
to know--whether this thing is responsible for landing me 
in hell. We can postulate and theorize from here to next 
week, but the only way to be sure requires empirical 
evidence."

He started forward but Scully clamped down harder. 
"Mulder."

"Scully." He searched her tired, careworn features for 
understanding. "I *have* to know."

She closed her eyes for a moment, then nodded and 
released his arm. Grey stepped aside and Mulder moved up 
to the bench. Sucking in a deep breath, he picked up the 
rock. 

*Light blinds him, tearing through his body like knives, 
pinning him in place. He sees Grey as if from a great 
distance, face deathly pale, eyes wide with shock, fear. He 
strains every muscle in his body, desperate to move, to 
touch, to grab hold of the man who has been his anchor so 
many times in the past.

"Help me!" The scream echoes in the silence of his mind. 
"Please, Grey. Don't let them take me!"

His stubborn determination actually pays off--just a twitch 
of his little finger, but the surge of hope makes his heart 
lurch. The light pulses brighter, white-hot agony erupting 
along every nerve ending like fire. Black spots explode 
across his vision, then everything goes dark.

Awareness seeps slowly into his muddled brain. White. 
Everywhere. Walls, floor, ceiling--sterile, featureless. No 
windows. No door. No clothes. Light is everywhere and 
nowhere. He stands, back pressed against a wall, head 
throbbing.

"I know for a fact I never said 'Beam me up, Scotty.'"

His voice echoes, bouncing off the walls. He shivers, 
despite the room's warmth. Wrapping his arms around his 
body he crouches down. Waiting.

He knows they're watching. Can feel eyes studying his 
every sound, every movement with cool, dispassionate 
interest. Sometimes he talks to them. Sometimes he curses 
them. More and more often, he pleads with them. It doesn't 
matter--the response is the same.

Nothing.

Time passes--he's not sure how much. There is no day, no 
night. Just the relentless brilliance of artificial light. He 
knows hunger and thirst. Shame when he breaks down and 
relieves himself in a corner. And loneliness like a cancer, 
devouring him from the inside out. Shattering his false 
bravado, stripping away his resistance.

By the time a door materializes in the wall he's desperate to 
hear a voice, see a face. Even alien.

When his captor steps inside, he gasps and stumbles 
backward, recognizing his folly. 

There are worse things than loneliness.*

"Mulder! Look at me, Mulder."

Scully's voice, sharp with fear brought him back. Mulder 
blinked and the white room melted away, sounds and 
images filtering in and replacing it. Scully's face was inches 
from his own; her rapid puffs of breath tickled his cheek. 
There was something cold and hard beneath him, and 
something warm and yielding against his back. Pain, like 
liquid fire, seared the palm of his hand.

"Mulder?"

"What happened?" He croaked the question.

Scully wilted. Mulder scanned his surroundings and found 
that he was huddled on the floor with Scully crouched in 
front of him while Grey supported him from behind. 

"You had another flashback," Scully said, checking first 
one pupil and then the other. "It started as soon as you 
picked up the stone."

Mulder slowly lifted his right hand. Blisters were already 
forming on the palm, and finger-shaped bruises encircled 
the wrist.

"Sorry." Grey's apology held a tremor. "You froze up. That 
thing was burning your hand--I had to force you to drop it."

Mulder recognized his role in this little drama and knew the 
script by heart. It was time to make a smart ass remark and 
shrug off Grey's gentle hold. 

He couldn't do it.

Reawakened memories, terrifying in their clarity, 
pummeled him like physical blows. Light. Hunger. 
Despair. Fear. Oh, God, ignorance really was bliss. He 
shuddered, squeezing his eyes shut.

Grey tightened the arm around his chest; Scully cupped his 
cheek.

"It's okay, Mulder. Just relax."

He concentrated on breathing--nice, deep, even breaths that 
filled his lungs and settled his jangling nerves. Listening to 
Scully and Grey repeat a litany of reassurances.

It's over.

You're home.

You're safe.

We're here.

After several minutes he opened his eyes and sat forward. 
Grey had climbed to his feet and extended a helping hand 
before Mulder unfolded his wobbly legs.

"Come sit on the couch, Mulder." Scully's tone allowed no 
refusal. "I need to dress that burn."

She guided him to the ratty sofa and sat beside him. Byers 
handed her a first aid kit while Langly and Frohike hovered 
nearby, looking at Mulder with an uneasy mixture of worry 
and fear.

Mulder sighed. "Guess this proves it. I really am a 'ticking 
time bomb of insanity.'" He scowled at the Gunmen. 
"Would you three lighten up? That was a joke."

Scully pulled his hand into her lap. "How about telling us 
what you remembered?"

He focused on her hands as she smoothed antibiotic cream 
over his palm and covered it with gauze. Bright, white light 
flickered at the edges of his vision, but he ignored it.

"I...ah..." He cleared his throat, realizing his mouth was 
desert dry. 

A hand holding a water bottle appeared before his eyes. He 
looked up into Frohike's concerned face before accepting it 
with a grateful nod. The little man inclined his head, a 
smile softening the grim lines around his eyes and mouth.

Mulder drank deeply, everyone's watchful eyes an 
uncomfortable reminder of another, less pleasant time. He 
bounced one leg, then the other, the all-too-familiar post-
flashback jitters earning him a frown from Scully. 

Grey perched on the arm of the couch. "It can wait, Fox. 
Take all the time you need."

He cleared his throat again. "I remembered what happened 
right after I was taken...and something else."

Haltingly, he recounted the details of the flashback. Scully, 
Grey, and the Gunmen listened without interruption, 
though their faces looked pale and strained. When Mulder 
reached the part where his captors finally showed 
themselves, he clenched his jaw.

"It was him, Scully. The alien bounty hunter. He was the 
one in charge, the first one through the door."

Scully ran her thumb over the back of his bandaged hand. 
"I guess that explains how they knew to use me against 
you."

"The bastard smiled at me." Mulder rubbed his forehead, a 
dull ache throbbing behind his eyes. "He said, 'We've been 
waiting for you, Agent Mulder.'"

He looked up in time to catch Scully, Grey, and the 
Gunmen exchanging glances. "What?"

"When you picked up the rock, the oscilloscope went off 
the scale," Scully said. "It was emitting more than 80 kHz 
and hot enough to blister your hand."

He was so damn tired, his brain sluggish and 
uncooperative. Obviously he was missing something, but 
what?

"So?"

"It didn't react that way for the rest of us. Well, your bro' 
got a little bit of a rise out of it," Langly amended. "But for 
you--dude, it went nuts."

"The device is keyed to respond to a specific body 
chemistry," Byers said.

We've been waiting for you, Agent Mulder.

Mulder tensed, eyes widening. "Mine."


Chapter 14

Georgetown
Monday
9:37 PM


"Hey." Scully watched with curved lips and tender eyes as 
Mulder shuffled across the room and collapsed onto the 
couch. The worn, navy sweatpants rode low on his hips, 
and she could see the outline of his collarbone through his 
tee shirt. With his hair tousled and pale cheeks slightly 
flushed from sleep, he looked remarkably like a toddler just 
woken from a long nap.

"Hey." He ran a hand over his face and let out a gusty sigh. 
"Where's Grey?"

"Well, when it became apparent you were down for the 
count, he headed over to Kristen's so they could get 
something to eat."

He darted a quick look at the clock. "Shit. She was coming 
for dinner tonight, wasn't she?"

"We'll do it tomorrow. The steaks will keep."

He dropped his head onto the back of the couch. "Is there a 
more worthless human being on the face of this planet?"

"Mulder."

"I thought not."

"Mulder, do I really have to say it?"

"Only if doing so gives you some intrinsic sense of 
satisfaction."

She pursed her lips, but left it alone. "Did you sleep well?"

"I didn't wake up screaming, so I guess that would be a 
yes." When Scully tensed, he reached for her hand and 
wove their fingers together. "I'm sorry. I'm just so damn 
tired of everything."

She scooted closer and he obligingly slipped an arm around 
her shoulders, resting his cheek on her head. "Mulder. You 
are the most driven person I've ever known. Do you 
remember what I once told you? About your search for the 
Truth?" She felt him smile.

"I think it involved me digging up the desert with shovel."

"Close enough." Scully slipped her hand under the tee shirt 
and stroked warm skin, her voice low and pensive. "Once 
you've set a goal, you push yourself beyond all reason to 
achieve it. That intense, obsessive focus is precisely what 
made you the best profiler in the Bureau's history. But it's 
also why you crashed and burned."

Mulder tensed. "I thought I was the one with the psych 
degree."

"You can't force this, Mulder. This isn't a conspiracy to be 
uncovered or a criminal to be caught. Your body, your 
mind--both need time to process the past three months."

He made an odd sound. Scully pulled away and looked into 
his face, reading both anger and uncertainty in the lines 
around his eyes and the tight set of his jaw. "What?" she 
asked quietly. "Mulder, talk to me."

"Maybe I don't want to process--did that ever occur to 
you?" He huffed. "Why would it? After all, Fox Mulder's 
all-consuming passion is the truth. Who could predict that 
one day he'd shuck his moral high-handedness and wish for 
ignorance?"

She stared at him. "You don't want to remember."

Mulder just evaded her eyes, his throat working.

"You think I don't understand?"

Her words hung there, suspended between them, until 
Mulder finally choked out a reply. "I'm the one who didn't 
understand."

Pieces clicked into place. Scully laid her head back on his 
shoulder. "That was different."

"How?" He sounded angry, bitter, but she knew the 
emotions were directed inward and not toward her.

"We were in a different place. We'd barely scratched the 
surface--not just of what was out there, but of what lay 
between us."

"You can justify it all you like, Scully. But the fact is I 
pushed you to remember. Hard. I was so...so *driven* to 
discover the truth, I didn't stop and think about what that 
discovery might do to you."

She closed her eyes, remembering her struggle between 
fear and the desire to please him. Mulder wanted to plow 
ahead, rock solid in his purpose, while her entire world was 
tilting crazily on its axis and she could barely keep her feet. 
Shamed by her apparent weakness, she'd wondered if 
anything scared her seemingly fearless partner.

"You'll get through this, Mulder. You've never backed 
down from a challenge in your life. This is just one more 
opportunity for you to put that tenacity to use."

His lips twitched. "Tenacity. That's a lot more tactful than 
pigheaded."

"Well, you've been back less than a week. The grace period 
hasn't expired yet."

Mulder tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, his fingers 
lingering on her cheek. "There's something there, Scully. 
Buried deep. Something... It's bad."

She kept her voice steady. "Whatever it is, we'll deal with 
it."

"Sure. We're good at dealing. Plenty of practice."

The weary reply, so close to her own thoughts of late, made 
her stomach ache. Scully traced the outline of a rib with her 
fingertips, feeling the angular hardness of bone beneath a 
thin layer of flesh. "Sometimes it feels like a lifetime, not 
just ten years."

"It's not the years. It's the mileage." Her smile at the 
familiar quote faded when he continued, "I'm tired, Scully."

"I know."

"No, I don't think you do. Scully, I don't know if..."

She gently untangled herself from his arms and sat up. 
Mulder was chewing on his lower lip, his eyes red-rimmed 
and over-bright. "Say it, Mulder."

"I don't know if I can do this anymore." 

Scully smoothed her palm up and down his thigh as she 
considered her response. Complete honesty won out.

"Neither do I." She shrugged at Mulder's raised brows. "I 
didn't sleep well the last few months. A cold bed in the 
middle of the night inspires reflection."

"About?"

"Life. Death. Whether chasing little green men and 
unmasking vast, shadowy conspiracies is worth the price."

"Grey told me you fought to keep the X-Files open."

"Because I needed Bureau resources, Mulder. And because 
it was the only piece of you I had left." 

Mulder snagged her hand and enfolded it in his. When he 
spoke again, it was with tender affection. "And what 
revelations did this soul searching produce?"

"That the personal cost of our investigations inevitably 
outweighs professional gain. That I don't give a damn about 
finding the truth if it means losing you." She took a 
calming breath, then continued. "When is it enough, 
Mulder? There's so much more you need to do with your 
life. So much more than this."

"There was a time when this work was everything, Scully. 
It was all I had."

"I know. But things have changed."

"Have they? I look at Grey, and I see the life I might have 
had--a normal job, the respect of peers, a warm, loving 
family. But no matter how hard I try, I can't picture myself 
in his shoes. And sometimes I resent the hell out of him for 
that."

"What are you saying?"

He sighed and scrubbed a hand through his hair. "I'm 
saying that while the thought of getting back into the field 
makes me break out in a cold sweat, I can't imagine doing 
anything else. That while the damn job may no longer be 
*all* I am, it's still a significant piece of *who* I am." He 
shook his head. "Basically that I'm hopelessly fucked up."

The slight tremor in Mulder's hand and the ragged edge to 
his voice convinced Scully that the conversation had gone 
on long enough. She surreptitiously slid her fingers up to 
his wrist and eyed her watch. "No, you're exhausted. We 
can discuss this later. Now is not the time to make life-
altering decisions."

He snorted. "What *is* it the time for?"

"Tea."

"*Tea?* " He jerked his wrist from her grasp, wise to the 
subterfuge. "Stop that. I'm fine."

"Yes, tea. I'm going to make myself a cup. Want some?"

"See, I would have sworn now was the time for coffee." 
Scully looked levelly at him until he broke. "Fine. I'll have 
tea." He said it with all the enthusiasm of an inmate 
marching to the electric chair.

Scully stood and smiled down at him. Reaching down, she 
fingered a tumbled lock of his too-long hair and then 
smoothed it back from his forehead. Mulder caught hold of 
her wrist and they locked eyes as he drew her down to 
straddle his lap. Scully licked her lips, warmth tingling 
through her limbs and pooling in her belly. More than three 
months...

Mulder brushed his mouth across hers, tracing her lower lip 
with the tip of his tongue and then nibbling gently. She 
sighed, winding her fingers into the hair at his nape and 
opening to him, welcoming him home. The melted 
together, kisses deep and slow and tender. Then Mulder's 
hands slipped under her sweatshirt to cup her breasts, and 
her world narrowed to the exquisite sensations of his 
tongue gliding against hers and his thumbs stroking her 
nipples. She rocked her hips, jolted back to reality when 
she realized Mulder's level of arousal didn't quite match her 
own.

Mulder broke the kiss and touched his forehead to hers. 
"Sorry. The spirit is willing..."

"It's okay." She kissed him again, exploring every nook and 
cranny in his mouth and leaving him panting for breath 
before she was finished. "It can wait."

"I can't," Mulder grumbled. "No coffee, no sex..."

She stared at the jutting lip and smoldering eyes and a lump 
filled her throat. How many hospitals, morgues, police 
stations had she haunted, hoping against hope for another 
glimpse of that beloved face? How many nights had she 
curled up alone in bed, praying next time...please, God, 
next time let it be him?

"Scully?" Now Mulder was staring at her, eyes soft with 
concern.

Scully blinked, surprised when moisture trickled down her 
cheek. She brushed the tears away with a knuckle and 
smiled. "I'm just really glad you're home."

"Me, too." He wrapped his arms around her, tucking her 
head under his chin. "One thing I do remember, Scully. 
You were the only thing that kept me going. When things 
got bad, really bad..." He tightened his arms until she was 
crushed against his chest, his rapid heartbeat thudding 
under her ear. "I knew they were messing with my head, 
that it wasn't really you. But sometimes, when I was 
whacked out with pain and sleep deprivation, I wanted to 
believe it was."

Scully turned her face into the soft, cotton tee shirt, 
breathing in Mulder's musky, comforting scent. "And 
sometimes, in the middle of the night, I'd close my eyes and 
imagine you spooned up behind me, your warmth along my 
back, the whisper of your breath on my neck."

Mulder pressed a kiss to her temple. "Did it help?"

"Not much." She lifted her head and smiled. "There's no 
substitute for the real thing."

"Hey, at least your substitute wasn't playing Dr. Mengele." 
When Scully stiffened, he grimaced. "Sorry. Guess that was 
in poor taste. I'm just whistling in the dark."

The front door creaked open, then banged shut, and Grey 
breezed into the room. "I won't be surprised if we get snow 
tonight; it's cold as a witch's elbow out there." He blinked. 
"Uh, would y'all prefer I drive around the block a few 
times?"

"Nah, have a seat. I've always been an exhibitionist at 
heart," Mulder deadpanned.

Scully punched his arm and eased off his lap. "I'm making 
tea."

Grey smirked. "Really? Must be a whole new brewing 
method."

She folded her arms. "Can I get you a cup?"

"Thanks."

He stripped off his coat and plopped down beside his 
brother. "I take it you're feeling better."

"Than what?" When Grey lifted his hands, palms out, he 
tempered the sharp reply. "Let's just say I'm better than I 
was, but not as good as I'd hoped to be. According to 
Scully, I'm a work in progress. How's Kristen?"

"She's good. She said to tell you she hopes you're feeling 
better, but if you cancel out on dinner tomorrow night she's 
taking the steak to go."

Mulder chuffed but didn't reply. They sat without speaking, 
listening to clinking glassware and thudding cupboard 
doors as Scully moved about the kitchen, humming quietly.

"What's it like, Grey? Having a normal life?" Mulder was 
barely aware he'd verbalized his thoughts.

Grey snorted, scrutinizing Mulder's face as if trying to 
gauge his sincerity. "Well, I don't know, Fox. Why don't 
you ask somebody who has one?" He shook his head. 
"What in hell gave you the mistaken impression that my 
life is anything approaching normal?"

"I make my living chasing little green men, mutants, and 
other freaks of nature. I've been shot, frozen, set on fire, 
gnawed, infected, possessed, and brainwashed. I just spent 
three months on a spaceship with alien shapeshifters that 
obviously mistook me for a human guinea pig. Hell, my 
conception was nothing but a great lab experiment." 
Mulder tipped his head back and stared at the ceiling. 
"Your life seems pretty damn normal to me."

"Fox." Much of the outrage had left Grey's voice. "My 
biological parents sent me away--gave me to another family 
like some kind of booby prize--because of a grand 
conspiracy I never really understood. I make my living 
chasing thieves, rapists, and murderers. I've been assaulted, 
shot, and nearly lost my brother to a killer with a grudge 
against me." He paused, then continued.

"I watched my wife die, eaten alive by a killer I couldn't 
stop.  All my training, all the lives I saved in the course of 
my job, meant nothing. Losing her turned me into an 
emotional cripple with commitment issues I'm still trying to 
shake." He laughed quietly. "I'm a work in progress, too."

Mulder looked at his brother. "So you're telling me it's all 
an illusion. You don't really have a normal life."

"I'm telling you no one does. Not if by 'normal' you mean 
some kind of storybook fantasy where we all wind up 
living in a house surrounded by a white picket fence, with a 
beautiful wife and 2.5 kids. Life, by its very nature, is 
abnormal." He smirked. "Yours is just farther off the scale 
than most."

"That is the crappiest attempt at reassurance I've ever 
heard." Mulder grinned in spite of himself. 

Grey shrugged. "You want deep, turn on Oprah."

They were still when Scully returned with three mugs of 
tea. She stopped, eyebrow arched. "Did I miss something?"

Mulder eyed Grey, then smiled up at her. "Just two equally 
pathetic people sharing their fractured fairy tale lives. Care 
to join us?"

She passed him a mug, smiling. "Move over, Mulder. From 
the sound of it, I already have."


Chapter 15

Bethesda
Thursday
10:28 AM


Mulder chewed his lower lip as he stared out the window, 
his face expressionless. The house was small and 
unassuming, red brick with neat black shutters, evergreens 
bracketing the front door.

Grey shifted, drummed his fingers on the steering wheel 
and then cleared his throat. "You're going to be late."

"This was a mistake."

"No, it wasn't. It's another step toward getting your life 
back."

God, he was so tired of that gentle, handle-with-care tone. 
"Don't patronize me."

"Is that what you think I'm doing?"

Grey's question finally drew Mulder's gaze from the 
building. "Not exactly, but.ô I do think you and Scully 
tend to treat me like I could shatter at any given moment." 
He huffed, shaking his head. "Not that you don't have your 
reasons."

 Grey sighed, his lips curving into a rueful smile. "Look, 
I'm not trying to tell you what to do. But while it may not 
be my life, I've got a stake in it, Fox. And I don't imagine 
you're happy with the way things have been going the past 
few days."

"Gee, what was your first clue?" Mulder looked back at the 
house. "I know why you pulled chauffeur duty."

"Hey, I had to arm wrestle Dana for this privilege." When 
Mulder didn't smile, Grey sighed. "She just needed a little 
break, Fox."

"You think I don't understand? I have eyes; I see what this 
is doing to her. The flashbacks have only gotten worse, and 
I never know what's going to trigger one." He raked his 
fingers through his hair. "I can't even hold it together long 
enough to get a damn hair cut."

"Which brings us back to my original point," Grey said 
mildly. "You're gonna be late."

Mulder opened his mouth to argue, realized the futility, and 
settled for a glare. "See you in an hour."

He felt Grey's eyes follow him as he strode to the front 
door and pushed the bell. He folded his arms and waited, 
deliberately ignoring the idling engine at his back.

"Door's open! Let yourself in." A woman's voice, faint but 
cheerful.

Mulder tugged open the storm and saw that the front door 
was, in fact, ajar. He stepped into the foyer and unzipped 
his coat. To his left lay a small living room with very 
modern, glass and chrome furnishings. To his right, a short 
hallway, presumably leading to bedrooms. And straight 
ahead, the sound of rattling pans and the rich aroma of 
fresh-baked bread.

"You can hang up your coat and come on back."

Feeling more than a little surreal, Mulder followed orders. 
He peeled off his jacket and hung it on the coat rack, then 
made his way to the source of the voice--and the delicious 
smell.

The kitchen was a scene of controlled chaos--dirty bowls 
and pans overflowed in the sink and flour dusted the 
countertops not occupied with cooling loaves. Propping a 
shoulder against the doorframe, he watched as a sixty-
something woman with salt-and-pepper hair kneaded bread 
dough.

"Dr. Shanley?"

"Agent Fox Mulder. At least, I hope that's who you are. 
Otherwise I've just invited a stranger into my home." 
Smiling, she offered a floury hand, then pulled it back. 
"Guess that's not such a good idea. Have a seat, Fox. Can I 
get you anything?"

Mulder claimed a chair at the small oak table. "How about 
a different name?" At her raised eyebrow, he added, "I 
don't use Fox. Just Mulder is fine."

"Got some issues, have we, Just Mulder?" She plunged 
both hands back into the dough.

Mulder leaned back and folded his arms. "Oh, I'm a bundle 
of issues, Dr. Shanley. Didn't Dr. Verber fill you in?"

"He gave me the basics. And please, call me Tomie." 

"Excuse me?"

She chuckled. "Aye, ya heard right. Me da had his heart set 
on havin' a son ta carry on the family name. Imagine his 
surprise when wee Thomas Shanley the third turned out to 
be a she." She dropped the brogue. "I officially shortened it 
to Tomie the day I turned 21. I know all about issues, 
believe me."

She collected several loaf pans and began parceling out the 
dough. "How much have you remembered?"

The abrupt segue caught Mulder off guard. "Not enough." 
He lifted his shoulders. "Too much."

"You were missing three months?"

"So I'm told."

"You weren't aware you'd been gone that long?"

"Time flies when you're having fun."

Shanley gave him a sharp look but simply picked up the 
filled pans and carried them to the oven, a blast of hot air 
washing over Mulder as she loaded them inside. She then 
pulled a knife from a drawer and cut into a golden loaf, 
slicing a generous slab and transferring it to a plate. 
Moments later the plate, a knife, and butter were placed in 
front of Mulder.

"Coffee?"

Mulder gaped at her. "Shouldn't we be discussing 
my...issues?"

"I thought we were." Shanley took two mugs from a 
cupboard and filled them with coffee.

"So what's...?" He gestured at the food.

Placing one mug next to his plate, she sank into a chair and 
took a long draught from the other. "You looked like you 
could use it. You're skin and bones, kiddo."

Shaking his head, Mulder took a sip of coffee and tore off a 
small piece of warm, fluffy bread. "Gotta hand it to you, 
Tomie. You're not what I expected."

"It's part of my charm." She sobered. "Why are you here, 
Mulder?"

"Why are any of us here?" When she didn't let up on her 
probing stare, he sighed. "I'm here because I have to be. I 
don't have a choice."

"Bullshit. You always have a choice."

Mulder blinked. So much for the motherly aura.

Tomie leaned forward, cupping her mug between her 
palms. "When I was in college, I began experiencing brief 
periods of lost time. Holes in my memory I couldn't 
account for. Sometimes it was hours, sometimes days. I 
thought I was going crazy--becoming schizophrenic or 
developing multiple personalities or any one of half a 
dozen mental illnesses. At first I was able to cover for 
myself with lies--I was sick, I went home for a few days, I 
was visiting a friend... But after a while things got so bad I 
couldn't hide it any longer. My grades dropped, I flunked 
out of school, couldn't keep a boyfriend or a job..." She 
pursed her lips. " My family didn't know what to do with 
me. And that's the way my life went for many years.

"And then one day while watching television, I stumbled 
onto a program about alien abductees. I can still remember 
how terrified I became, listening to those people describe 
their experiences. It could have been me on that TV screen. 
I switched it off and tried to put it out of my mind. I 
couldn't.

"Eventually, I couldn't endure the mess that my life had 
become a moment longer. I connected with MUFON and 
they put me in touch with a psychiatrist who used hypnosis 
to help me recover those missing pieces."

"And you lived happily ever after."

Shanley didn't flinch at the bitterness in his tone. "Hardly. 
But I did reclaim control of my life. I accepted what had 
been done to me, and that it could happen again. Then I set 
it aside and moved on."

"So you got a doctorate in psychology in order to help other 
abductees."

"I got a doctorate in psychology to help myself. Helping 
others was just a side benefit." 

"Physician, heal thyself."

"Something like that. Look, Mulder, I'm not going to 
engage in psychological sparring matches with you. I've 
heard enough from Heintz to know I'd probably lose. If 
you're here because you're ready to deal with what 
happened, I'll be happy to work with you. Otherwise, we'll 
finish our coffee and part company."

Mulder took another bite of bread, chewing slowly. 
Delicious, yet it sat like lead in his stomach.  "I can't ride in 
an elevator or step into the closet without hyperventilating. 
I'm afraid to sleep because of the nightmares. I'm getting 
flashbacks four or five times a day, during which I've 
trashed my own bedroom, punched and damn near 
strangled my wife. Scully.ô" 

He bit down on the name and looked away. "I'm not going 
to let this destroy the good things in my life. I *will* deal 
with this."

"I was hoping you'd say that." Her fingers grazed the back 
of his hand. "Now, finish your bread or you'll hurt my 
feelings."

A little of the weight eased from his shoulders. Mulder 
picked up the rest of the slice. "Do you always conduct 
your appointments in the kitchen?"

"You'd rather I had you stretch out on the couch?" She 
carried his empty plate to the sink. "I'm not one for 
breaking the ice, Mulder. I much prefer a slow thaw. Now 
how about some more coffee?"

Twenty minutes later Mulder stepped out the door, a 
bemused smile on his face. Preoccupied, he'd climbed into 
the car and was reaching for his seatbelt before realizing 
that Scully, not Grey, sat behind the wheel.

"Scully? I thought you were dropping by the Hoover, 
catching up on some paperwork."

"I did. But I was having a little trouble concentrating." She 
scanned his face, a small line between her brows. "Are you 
all right?"

Mulder cupped her cheek, tracing the shadows under her 
eyes with the pad of his thumb. "That should be my 
question, shouldn't it?"

She caught hold of his hand and pressed a kiss to the palm. 
"I'm fine."

"You're exhausted. You should go to your mother's tonight, 
Scully. Get some real sleep. Let Grey play zookeeper."

She dropped his hand and put the car into gear, pulling 
away from the curb. "Mulder, I can't spend a morning in the 
office without worrying about you. What in the hell makes 
you think I could sleep any better at my mom's?"

"Oh, I don't know. The lack of screaming, maybe?"

"We've discussed this already. I'm not going anywhere." A 
car scooted in front of them and she slammed on the brakes 
with more force than necessary. She sucked in a deep 
breath and let it out slowly. "Let's start over. How was your 
session with Dr. Shanley?"

Oh, barrels of fun, he thought, but wisely restrained 
himself. "Let's just say she's not your average, run-of-the-
mill shrink." He chuffed, turning to look out the window. 
"Verber sandbagged me."

"How so?"

"He may have found the only doctor on this planet that I 
can't bullshit."

Scully raised an eyebrow. "I think I'd like to meet this Dr. 
Shanley."

"Tomie." Mulder chuckled again. "Also one of the few 
people who actually beats me in the category of most 
irritating first name."

Scully stared at him, then jerked her gaze back to the road.

"What?"

"Nothing. It's just... You're taking this amazingly well."

"Ah. You were expecting a quivering wreck, is that it?"

"Something like that."

"It's hard to get rattled over coffee and freshly baked 
bread."

"You lost me, Mulder."

"We didn't DO anything--except lay a few ground rules. It's 
all part of Tomie's diabolical strategy to take me out at the 
knees before I could fight back. Next time we meet I'm sure 
she'll show no mercy."

"Next time?"

The cautious hope in her voice broke his heart. "Yeah, next 
time. She wants to see me twice a week, for now. And she 
wants me to take these." He pulled the two prescription 
forms out of his pocket. "A sedative to help me sleep for 
more than three hours at a stretch. And an anti-depressant."

"And you agreed?"

"To the first two. The jury's still out on the anti-
depressant." When she didn't say anything, Mulder slid his 
hand onto her leg. "I'll think about it, babe. I promise."

They drove the rest of the way in silence. When Mulder 
pulled open the door to the apartment building, Scully 
paused and lightly touched his arm. "I'm proud of you, 
Mulder. I hope you know that."

Mulder guided her inside with a hand at the small of her 
back. "This from the woman who has to walk up two 
flights of stairs because her husband's terrified of the 
elevator."

"Mulder."

He silenced her with a long, deep kiss, then touched his 
forehead to hers. "You're the only thing getting me through 
this, Scully. I hope you know that."

Grey met them at the door. "Well, hey. Look who's back. 
Y'all have got impeccable timing."

Mulder frowned as he shrugged out of his jacket. "What's 
wrong?"

"What makes you think somethin's wrong?"

"Because that southern drawl of yours always gets stronger 
when you're on edge." Mulder tossed the jacket onto the 
coat tree and stepped into the living room.

He smelled him before he saw him.

Cancerman blew out a cloud of smoke and smiled. "Hello, 
Fox. My, my. I must say, I've seen you look better."


Chapter 16

Georgetown
Thursday
12:04 PM


Mulder faltered, then continued on toward the kitchen. 
"Grey, what have we told you about letting strangers into 
the apartment when Mommy and Daddy aren't home?" He 
snagged a bottle of water from the refrigerator and came 
back, leaning in the doorway while he twisted off the cap.

"Are you kidding? I wouldn't let him in if he had an 
engraved invitation. He was already here when I got 
home." Grey braced both hands on the back of the couch 
and showed Spender his teeth. "I'd be happy to escort him 
out, though. Just say the word."

Spender tapped some ash into a coaster. "Gentlemen, 
please. Is this any way to treat an old family friend who's 
merely concerned for Fox's health?"

"Spare us the melodrama." Scully stood at Grey's shoulder. 
"What do you want?"

Spender ignored her, turning to Mulder with the barest hint 
of a smile. "It's good to see you, Fox. Three months. I'd 
almost given up hope."

"Oh, you know me. I'm like a bad penny. I always turn up--
eventually." Mulder tipped back the bottle and took a drink.

"I understand you've had some difficulty recalling 
yourôordeal. Tell me, have you managed to recover any of 
those elusive memories?"

Grey snorted. "I think you've been sucking too hard on that 
cigarette, old man. You don't honestly think he's going to 
answer, do you?"

Spender blew out a column of smoke. "I'd hoped perhaps 
we could engage in a mutual exchange of information."

The bastard's smug, self-satisfied smirk pushed all Mulder's 
buttons. He set the water bottle on the counter, holding onto 
his anger with effort. "Sorry to disappoint. I'm afraid there's 
nothing you could say that I'd want to hear, so..." he 
stretched out his arm toward the door, "you obviously 
know the way out."

Spender put out his cigarette and stood. "Pity. I thought 
you'd like to know why our shapeshifting friends find you 
so fascinating."

Mulder lunged forward, catching Spender by the lapels of 
his trenchcoat. Spinning him around, he slammed the 
smoker up against the wall hard enough to make the 
pictures rattle. He leaned in close enough to smell 
Spender's stale breath. "Talk. And it better be damn good 
because I've been having problems with impulse control 
and my Paxil hasn't kicked in."

"Mulder."

Scully's voice reined him in. He glared into Spender's eyes 
for a long moment, tightening his grip until his fists dug 
into the hollow of the man's throat. Releasing the smoker 
with a flick of his wrists, Mulder took several steps 
backward and folded his arms.

Spender smoothed his rumpled clothing. "Let me ask you 
this, Fox. What *do* you remember?"

Mulder clenched his jaw. "Pain." 

"From the tests?"

"If you call breaking all my fingers a test." He scanned 
Spender's face with wary eyes. "Why?"

"Really, Fox. I'm beginning to believe you've lost your 
edge. You're aware of your father's contributions to the 
Project? Hisôpersonal sacrifices?"

Mulder gritted his teeth. "I know what he did."

"Then you must see how special you are."

Scully moved to his side, her shoulder brushing his. "Why 
don't you humor us? Spell it out."

Spender chuckled, shaking his head. "Agent Scully, you're 
more than qualified to answer your own question. After all, 
you possess not only sufficient training and intellect, but an 
intimate connection with Fox--the ultimate credential."

 Mulder looked at Scully, but she kept her attention locked 
on Spender. "You're alluding to genetic modifications 
brought about by experimentation on Mrs. Mulder when 
she was pregnant. *Unauthorized* experimentation."

"Modifications that have served you well." Spender 
smirked. "You should be grateful to us, Fox."

Mulder curled his lip. "If you're looking for thanks, you'll 
be waiting until hell freezes over."

"What were these modifications?" Scully unobtrusively lay 
her hand on his forearm, steadying him.

Spender reached for a cigarette, but Mulder blocked the 
move. "Uh-uh. This is a no smoking zone."

"The modifications?" Scully prompted.

"Perhaps you should tell me."

Scully locked eyes with Mulder, apology in her gaze. 
"Heightened intelligence, intuition, memory. Enhanced 
ability to heal."

"Very good, Agent Scully. Of course our crowning 
achievement was an increased resistance to the alien virus."

"Wait a minute, wait a minute." Grey made a time out 
motion with his hands. "You're forgetting that Fox nearly 
died from that virus. Seems to me that part of the grand 
experiment was a failure."

"Fox's genetic immunity was damaged, not absent. He 
successfully resisted the virus during his unfortunate 
adventure with Alex Krycek in Tunguska. It was his later 
exposure to the toxic chemicals on Brown Mountain that 
weakened his immunity and allowed the virus to take 
hold."

"A theory for which you have no real proof," Scully said.

"Come now, Agent Scully, you're not thinking like a 
scientist. You know that any successful experiment requires 
both a study group and a control group. After all, a result 
can't be considered significant unless it can be reproduced."

"How many?" Mulder ground the words out through his 
teeth. "How many besides Samantha and me?"

"Let's just say you're one of a very select group. I'm quite 
serious, Fox--you should be thanking us. Those 
'unauthorized experiments' are the only reason you're still 
alive."

"That's a bit of an overstatement, isn't it?"

"Hardly. Have you never wondered why you've been 
allowed to continue this tiresome quest of yours, meddling 
in things best left alone? Any other man would have been 
rewarded with a single bullet to the head and a swift 
burial."

"I'm too valuable to kill--is that what you're saying?"

Spender inclined his head.

"What does any of this have to do with Fox getting nabbed 
by the spaceship from hell?" Grey looked from Mulder to 
Scully, then glared at Spender.

*Broken bones. Cuts. Burns. Agony. "How bad is the pain, 
on a scale of one to ten?" Thick greasiness filling his eyes, 
his mouth. Crawling under his skin, burrowing into his 
brainô*

Mulder gasped as he tumbled back into his body with a 
jerk. "They know."

"What? What the hell are you talking about, and why do 
you look like the bastard just sucker punched you?" Grey 
ground the words out, his voice harsh.

"Your brother has just experienced an epiphany of sorts." 
Spender pulled out a cigarette and lit it.

"Fox?"

"They were testing the merchandise." Mulder's lips felt 
numb, his head light. "Measuring the *success* of the 
experiment."

Spender pursed his lips, blowing a plume of smoke. "We're 
understandably concerned. The genetic modifications were 
performed in absolute secrecy. They were never supposed 
to learn we hadôside projects."

"Projects? You're talking about a human being, you son of 
a bitch!" Scully's grip on Mulder's hand was gentle, despite 
the fury in her words. "What will it mean for Mulder, now 
that they do know?"

"We're not talking about human beings, Agent Scully. I 
couldn't begin to guess." Spender turned to Mulder with a 
smile. "Perhaps you should have taken more care in what 
you wished for, Fox. You wanted proof of the existence of 
extraterrestrial life. Now you have it."

"That's it. He's so outta here." Grey grabbed Spender by his 
upper arms and frog marched him toward the door.

"Mulder? Mulder, you need to sit down."

Scully guided him to the couch and seated him with a 
gentle shove. She disappeared and returned a moment later, 
pressing the partially consumed water bottle into his hand.

"Drink this."

Mechanically, he did as instructed, sipping water and 
staring blankly into space. His thoughts a twisted jumble of 
confusing images and emotions, he only distantly registered 
the slam of the front door and Grey's return.

"Is he okay?"

"No. He's not 'okay.'" Mulder tipped his head back and 
regarded his brother. "That Bill Mulder was a helluva a 
father, wasn't he? He certainly left me an inheritance I'll 
never take for granted."

Grey winced at the bitterness. He eased onto the arm of a 
chair with stiff, correct posture that was incongruous with 
his usual careless sprawl. "Don't let that bastard get to you, 
Fox. You can't trust a word from his lying mouth."

"He wasn't lying, Grey. Not this time." Mulder's fingers 
curled into fists where they rested on his thighs.

"He said it himself--he can't guess their intentions. How 
can you be sure--"

"Because I was there!" Mulder spat out the words, lunging 
to his feet. He paced to the window, catching a glimpse of 
Spender as he drove away, smoke trailing from his partially 
lowered window. "They went fishing for me with that rock 
and I took the damn bait. Everything they did to me was 
calculated. Methodical. All designed to test out the new 
model, from breaking my fingers, to infecting me with the 
black oil." He scrubbed a hand over his gritty eyes. 

"You didn't mention anything about the oil." Scully's tone 
held worry and not reproach.

Weariness slammed into him, leaving his hands shaking 
and his legs weak. Mulder turned around, "I didn't 
remember until now."

"You can't jump to conclusions, Mulder. What they put you 
through was horrific, but they sent you back. They may 
have the answers they sought. We've been given no reason 
to believe they'd take you again."

"Scully, the Files are littered with accounts from multiple 
abductees. Dwayne Barry. Max Fenig. Cassandra Spender. 
We've been given no reason to believe they won't."

Mulder returned to the couch, collapsing onto the cushions. 
"I never wanted to hate him. I made excuses for him, 
blamed myself because it was easier to believe I'd screwed 
up than to admit my own father didn't give a damn about 
me."

Grey leaned forward. "Except he did, Fox. I swear to God, 
he did. It's just that for some crazy, screwed-up reason he 
could tell everyone but you."

"He turned his son and daughter into science experiments, 
Grey. If that's love, then he had a funny way of showing it."

"Maybe not."

Scully's soft interjection drew their attention. Mulder raised 
his eyebrows. "Really? Then explain it to me, Scully. 
Because right now he's not getting my vote for father of the 
year."

"I agree that what he did was wrong. I just think you should 
keep an open mind as to his motivations. Mulder, they were 
operating under the shadow of impending colonization. 
Your father saw the big picture, was aware of the risks. 
Maybe Strughold convinced him that cooperating in the 
experiments would ultimately be a gift to his children. 
Maybe it was his misguided way of protecting you."

Mulder stared at her for a long moment, then shook his 
head. "I wish I could be as optimistic as you. But from 
where I'm standing, it's an awful shitty gift." He dropped 
his head onto the back of the couch, blinking up at the 
ceiling. "I'm tired, Scully. And I don't want to talk about 
this anymore."

Scully tapped his leg as his eyes started drifting shut. "Not 
yet, Mulder. You haven't had anything to eat since early 
this morning."

He covered his eyes with the crook of his elbow. "I'm not 
hungry."

"Just some soup, then, and a few crackers. I've got some of 
Mom's--"

"I *said* I'm not hungry."

"You have to eat. You're too thin, Mulder. Remember what 
Nick said? You can't afford to skip meals."

Mulder snatched down his arm and glared at her. "God, I 
am so tired of everyone thinking they can run my life! You 
tell me when to eat, when to sleep, when to talk--I'm 
surprised you're not scheduling when I can take a piss." 

Scully flushed. "You think this is fun for me? Do you have 
any idea what it's like watching someone I love go through 
hell, how utterly powerless I feel? I can't take away your 
pain, stop the flashbacks, or even replace those thirty 
pounds. I wish to God I could, but I can't." She pressed the 
back of her hand to her lips, steadying herself. "I can make 
soup. Or drive you to the doctor. Or hold you when the 
nightmares get bad. It may not mean much to you, but it 
means a hell of a lot to me."

"C'mere." Mulder enfolded her resistant body. Tucking her 
head under his chin, he stroked his fingers through her hair. 
"It means everything to me, Scully. Don't ever doubt it. I'm 
just being a pain in the ass."

Grey snorted. "Like that's a news flash."

"Don't you have something to do?" Mulder asked dryly.

Grey stood and hooked a thumb toward the kitchen. "How 
about I heat the soup?"

"Refrigerator," Scully said. "Third shelf."

Grey offered up a mock salute and disappeared.

Mulder tightened his arms, gratified when Scully's curled 
around his waist. The feel of her soft skin, the smell of her 
hair, loosened the knot that had formed in his stomach the 
moment he'd seen Spender sitting in the living room like he 
owned it.

"I do know what it's like, Scully."

He sensed her frown; felt the subtle contraction of muscles 
where her face pressed against his chest. "What are you 
talking about?"

"You asked if I knew what it was like to feel powerless 
while someone I loved went through hell. I do."

She was still for a moment, then her body tensed. "My 
cancer."

"I watched the disease slowly suck the life from you. You 
were dying, and I couldn't do a damn thing about it. I 
would have done anything to save you."

She sat up and looked into his eyes, bringing her hand up 
and cupping his jaw. "And you did. I'm alive because you 
never gave up." She brushed her thumb across his cheek, 
her smile fading. "I'm afraid I can't produce a miracle, 
Mulder. Much as I wish I could."

Mulder brought her hand to his lips. He pressed a kiss to 
the palm, then gave her a crooked grin. "You're here. 
You've put up with a pain in the ass for ten years. Babe, if 
that's not a miracle, I don't know what is."


Chapter 17

Bethesda
Monday
10:32 AM


Mulder raised an eyebrow. "Now it's cookies?"

Tomie waved him into the kitchen and picked up another 
egg. She tapped it sharply against the rim of the mixing 
bowl and pulled the two halves apart with deft fingers. 
"You're a psychologist, Mulder. Surely you recognize my 
clever use of a non-threatening environment."

Mulder chuckled and shook his head. "Tomie, as far as I'm 
concerned, everything about you is threatening." He 
bypassed the chair she indicated and prowled along the 
spotless, butcherblock counter.

Tomie watched him from the corner of her eye, her hands 
never faltering as she made quick work of two more eggs. 
"That's good, isn't it? Complacency rarely encourages 
growth."

Mulder picked up an apple and juggled it. "I'm here to 
grow? And all this time I thought it was for the PTSD." He 
set down the apple and moved on to a set of canisters, 
lifting lids and peering inside. "You're out of flour."

"Since you brought it up--"

"The flour?"

"Have you been taking the meds I prescribed?"

Mulder turned and leaned against the counter. "Why bother 
asking me? I know you talked to Scully."

"She's worried about you. She said you've been on edge, 
that you can't sit still for more than five minutes and you're 
not sleeping." Tomie looked pointedly at Mulder's tapping 
foot. 

Catching the hint, Mulder pushed away from the counter 
and dropped into one of the wooden kitchen chairs. "I sleep 
when I take the pills."

"But not through the night."

"Four or five hours. That's double what I'd been getting."

"It's still not enough, and you know it. Maybe you're 
resistant to the Xanax--I'll give you a new prescription 
before you leave today."

Tipping backward, Mulder balanced the chair on two legs. 
"You're the doctor."

Tomie plopped the mixing bowl onto the table in front of 
him and handed him a wooden spoon. "Here. I may as well 
harness some of that excess energy."

Mulder stared at the spoon, then began whirling it through 
the mixture of eggs, milk, and butter. "Don't you have an 
electric mixer?"

Tomie pulled out several cookie sheets and turned on the 
oven. "Mixers are for wimps. Besides, stirring is 
therapeutic. Gives you an outlet for all that bottled up 
anger."

"I'm not angry."

She gave him a long look and put the milk back in the 
refrigerator.

"I'm not."

Tomie braced her palms on the table. "That is utter bullshit, 
Mulder."

Mulder stopped stirring and looked up at her, smirking. 
"Don't mince words, Tomie. Tell me what you really 
think."

"They stripped you of your humanity, treated you as an 
object to be manipulated and controlled at whim. They 
tortured you--physically, mentally, emotionally--and they 
used your wife to do it. Now if that doesn't make you 
madder than hell..." She shook her head. "You've got 
bigger issues than just PTSD."

"Maybe I'm just too tired to be mad. I've spent the past ten 
years of my life in a haze of self-righteous anger, and what 
has it accomplished? The abductions, the tests, the plans for 
colonization continue, and I can't do anything to stop 
them."

"Children are alive right now because of your self-
righteous anger."

Mulder snapped his head up and studied her face. "You and 
Scully had quite the little chat."

"I watch the headlines, Mulder. Particularly when they 
involve unexplained disappearances. Dana just filled in the 
blanks." She took the bowl from his hands. "Those children 
would be dead if you hadn't come up with an effective 
treatment."

"Damage control. We've got a finger in the dyke; the wall 
is still crumbling." 

He shoved back his chair and began pacing. "The 
abductions are just the warm-up. They intend to colonize 
this planet, and those of us who survive will wind up 
slaves--or worse yet, incubators for their young. And the 
aliens have the power elite of this planet on their side. The 
very people who block me at every turn have been 
collaborating with them to save their own sorry asses.

"I can't tell you how many times I've been this close, *this* 
close to obtaining solid proof, only to have it snatched from 
my grasp. Well, I'm damn tired of it, of spinning my wheels 
and going *nowhere*. How am I supposed to save a 
planet? Hell, I couldn't even save myself!" 

Moments passed before the silence pulled at him. Mulder 
realized he was standing in the middle of the kitchen, fists 
clenched, breathing hard. Tomie sat at the table, watching 
him. To Mulder's supreme irritation, she looked mildly 
amused.

"What?"

"I was just thinking--it's a good thing you're not angry."

"Very funny."

"Not really." Tomie cradled the mixing bowl against her 
body, stirring the batter with smooth, efficient strokes. 
"Mulder, you and I both know that putting this experience 
behind you will take more than recovering a few lost 
memories. You must acknowledge and accept the emotions 
that go along with them. Anger, fear, guilt--the feelings 
themselves aren't negative, they just need a healthy outlet."

"Sounds like a lot of psychobabble to me."

"Some psychobabble has validity, kiddo." Tomie stood and 
walked over to the counter. She took the lid off a canister 
and sighed. "You're right; I am out of flour. There's a five-
pound bag on the shelf in the cellar. Mind sparing an old 
lady's legs?"

Mulder rolled his eyes but headed for the door. "Those old 
legs of yours manage to kick my butt fairly efficiently."

"Down the steps and to your right."

Mulder flicked on the light and descended four steps, 
pausing when the walls began closing in. Pressing one hand 
to the cinderblock, he forced himself to take deep, slow 
breaths. Turning his head, he focused on the bright spill of 
light from the sunny kitchen and the soft sounds Tomie 
made as she puttered about.

*Get a grip. You're a little old to be scared of the dark.*

Four more steps and he'd reached the bottom. The cellar 
was small but clean, its cement floor neatly swept and the 
walls freshly painted. Shelves filled with labeled boxes, jars 
of homemade preserves, canned vegetables, and staples like 
sugar, flour, and rice lined the walls.

He quickly scooped up the flour and made for the stairs. He 
had one hand on the railing when an object toward the back 
of the room caught his eye and he froze, mouth dry.

Oblong, about five feet in length and three feet high. A 
freezer, he told himself firmly. Just an extra place to store 
meat, ice cream, TV dinners. Nothing threatening could be 
found in white enamel, a hinged lid, a few lights and 
dials.ô

He stared at the glowing, amber light and his stomach 
turned over. What...?

*Agony. Everywhere. Coughs tear through his body, 
leaving warmth on his chin and copper in his mouth. 
Hands...pulling, dragging, lifting. Dark. Walls pressing 
inward. Can't move, can't...out! Let me out. A coffin. Buried 
alive. Oh, God, not again...*

The bag of flour smacked the floor and burst open, 
spraying a cloud of white dust into the air.

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

"Where is he?"

Scully stepped into the foyer, turning her head as she 
searched for some sign of Mulder. Grey laid a steadying 
hand on her shoulder.

Tomie shut the door and moved in front of them. "He's all 
right, Dana. I gave him a hot drink and something to help 
him relax. I know you're both anxious to see him, but I 
need to talk to you first."

"Okay." Scully folded her arms, tamping down her urge to 
shove the woman aside. She'd been halfway between the 
Gunmen's place and the Bureau when Grey had called her 
cell phone. In the thirty minutes required to collect him and 
drive to Tomie's house her threadbare patience had 
unraveled completely. 

"First, let me repeat--he's all right. I didn't ask you both to 
come because he was in trouble." 

"It sure as hell didn't sound like he was doing so great when 
you called," Grey said.

Tomie smiled at him. "I said he was all right, not great. We 
had a rough time of it for a while there. He was in a bad 
way--completely dissociative for more than twenty 
minutes. But I'm fairly confident we've weathered the worst 
of the crisis."

"You said he had a flashback. He remembered something?" 
Scully studied Tomie's face, looking for any hint that the 
doctor was keeping something from her.

Tomie nodded, compassion crinkling her eyes. "Quite a 
large something. In fact, I have a feeling this particular 
memory has been acting like a cork, if you take my 
meaning. The trauma his mind couldn't accept, that 
triggered the protective amnesia he's used to bottle up all 
recollection of his experience."

"He's told you the details?"

"He blurted out snips and pieces during the flashback, but 
nothing since. He wanted you two to be here first. He said 
he has no intention of going over it more than once."

"Then let's get started." Scully took one step forward, 
halted by Tomie's upraised hand.

"I'm not finished, sweetheart."

She bristled a little at the endearment. "Can't this wait? 
Considering what he's just been through, I don't think it's 
wise to leave him alone."

"He needed a few minutes to pull himself together. And I 
need a few to prepare you before you see him."

"Tomie, he's my partner and he's my husband. You can't 
even begin to imagine what we've been through together. I 
think I know what to expect."

"Humor me."

Scully pressed her lips tightly together, but motioned for 
Tomie to continue.

"He may seem disturbingly calm. Indifferent, even. Don't 
let his detachment throw you. The sedative I gave him is 
bound to dampen any emotional response, but he's also 
insulating himself from a highly traumatic revelation."

Tomie waited for a nod from each of them, then continued. 
"And then there's the issue of his hands."

Scully stiffened. "His hands?"

"They're a bit worse for wear. His was in my cellar when 
the flashback came on. By the time I got down there he'd 
backed himself into a corner and was...clawing at the walls. 
Nothing is broken, but he bloodied his fingertips and peeled 
back a couple nails before I stopped him."

"What in the hell was he doing in your cellar?"

"I was in the middle of a batch of cookies. I'd sent him 
down for a bag of flour."

"You sent him down there alone, knowing what he's been 
going through? The flashbacks, the panic attacks--the man 
still can't get into an elevator, for God's sake! Was that 
supposed to be your idea of therapy?"

"Dana." Grey touched her arm, the slight shake of his head 
a gentle rebuke.

"You of all people know flashbacks can occur anytime, 
anywhere. In this particular instance I don't think it was 
either the dark or the enclosed space that triggered Mulder's 
memories--though I've no doubt they were contributing 
factors. 

"But the answer to your question, Dana, is yes. That is my 
idea of therapy. I've never denied my methods are a bit 
unorthodox--in fact, I seem to remember that was what 
brought you to me. I provide a safe place and a listening 
ear." Tomie tipped her chin up. "I'd say it's working."

Scully sagged as the indignation flowed from her body. 
"I'm sorry, Tomie. I just--"

Tomie wrinkled her nose and waved a hand. "No apology 
needed. We've all got his best interest at heart. Now, how 
about I stop talking and take you to him?"

She led them down a short hallway to a pair of French 
doors. Inside lay a cozy den complete with a gas fireplace 
and a large picture window looking onto what would likely 
be a flower garden in warmer weather. Mulder sat in an 
overstuffed chair near the fire, his bandaged hands cradling 
a mug.

Scully crossed the room and crouched at his side. "Hey."

"Hey." He twitched his lips in a weak smile, looking from 
Scully to Grey.

"How are you doing?"

"I'm fine, Scully. Don't look so worried."

Tomie was right--Mulder's placid tone unnerved her. Scully 
tried telling herself she should appreciate the respite after 
days of nervous fidgeting and snappish remarks, but the 
sense of wrongness set her on edge. Mulder existed 
naturally in a state of motion--canvassing crime scenes, 
tracking down leads, searching out witnesses. The drive to 
be doing, saying, thinking even permeated their home life--
he couldn't watch a movie without providing commentary, 
reading in bed inevitably led to lovemaking, and skipping 
his morning run for more than a day or two left him wired 
and out of sorts.

Scully curled her fingers around one thin wrist and 
squeezed. "Guess I should've warned Tomie about letting 
you help in the kitchen."

Mulder laughed weakly but his eyes were hollow.

Tomie touched Scully's shoulder, then pressed a warm mug 
into her hands. Scully stood and joined Grey where he sat 
on the couch, sipping from his own cup. The tea was hot 
and sweet, laced with milk and sugar--not the way she 
normally took it, but she appreciated the therapeutic value 
for jangling nerves.

Tomie sat in a rocking chair across from Mulder. "All right, 
kiddo. We're listening."

Mulder turned the mug between his palms, staring into the 
amber liquid. "The x-rays, the MRIs, and the few memories 
I already recovered paint a pretty clear picture of what was 
done to me. But they don't account for how I could possibly 
have survived." He licked his lips. "Now I know."

The clock ticked a measured beat; somewhere outside a 
dog barked furiously. Grey opened his mouth, but Tomie 
shook her head sharply, silencing him. Mulder took a small 
sip of the tea, grimaced, and continued.

"They had a box--a kind of machine. It was big enough to 
hold a person. Namely me. Whenever I became too 
damaged to be of further use, they'd haul me over and 
dump me inside. Shut the lid, flip a few switches, and 
voila! One fully restored guinea pig, ready to rock and 
roll."

"A healing device?" Scully took a steadying breath. "I 
know we've had our suspicions, but...my God, that certainly 
explains everything."

"Let me get this straight." Grey spoke through clenched 
teeth, his eyes narrowed. "They'd torture you until you were 
half dead, run you through the machine to fix you up, and 
then start all over again?"

"Oh, they didn't stop at half. I mean, where's the fun in 
that?"

"What are you saying, Mulder?"

"I'm saying I'm pretty damn sure I didn't always go into the 
box alive. I wanted to die, Scully. It got to the point where I 
reached for it with both hands. But the bastards wouldn't let 
me go. They kept bringing me back."

Mulder shut his eyes and his voice lost all inflection. "It 
was like waking up in a coffin, buried alive. No light, no 
air, walls surrounding you, closing in.ô And I could feel it 
working inside of me, bones fusing, tissue regenerating, 
muscles knitting together. The pain... It felt like I was being 
ripped into little pieces and slowly reassembled. The agony 
I went through in that machine was ten times worse than 
anything they did to put me there."

"That's where you'd gone, then," Tomie said, nodding at 
Mulder's hands. "I couldn't understand a good deal of what 
you were saying, but one phrase was very clear: You were 
begging me to let you out."

"I think it was seeing your meat freezer. The shape, the 
controls...it seemed so familiar. And then it all came 
rushing back." Mulder scrubbed a hand over his face. 
"Sorry for losing it like that. I guess there's probably not 
much hope for that batch of cookies."

"Oh, I'd say those cookies served their purpose. You've 
made a bit of a breakthrough today, Mulder. How do you 
feel?"

"Ready to get the hell out of here." Mulder looked at her 
with weary eyes. "No offense."

Tomie smiled. "None taken. I think you've accomplished 
quite enough one today."

"Car's parked down the street," Grey said after Tomie had 
escorted them to the door and they'd stepped into a chill 
wind. "Y'all wait here and I'll pull around."

"I can walk." Mulder zipped his jacket and turned up the 
collar. "I'm stoned, not crippled."

"Who said I was doing it for you? I'm sparing Dana the 
hike. Those shoes look damn uncomfortable." Grey twirled 
his keys around his finger and jogged down the sidewalk.

"He just likes to drive," Scully said dryly. She studied 
Mulder's pale face. "How are you doing?"

He lifted a shoulder and gave her a lopsided smile. "Been 
worse. Been better. You?"

"That about sums it up, I'd say."

"I'm sorry, Scully."

"For?"

"Being such a bastard the past few days. I'm surprised you 
haven't kicked my ass to the curb."

"Well, I can't say I haven't been tempted. But the truth is, 
I've grown rather fond of your ass."

"Really?"

"Really."

 "Well, that's...that's good, Scully. Because I've grown 
pretty attached to yours, too." He sighed. "Not that you 
could tell lately, I'm sorry to say. But I hope to remedy that. 
Soon."

Scully looked up at him through her lashes. "Bring it on."

Mulder tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, then leaned 
over and touched his mouth to hers. The chaste brush of 
lips quickly escalated when she opened to him, and he 
enveloped her in his arms. Scully relaxed into the embrace, 
one hand drifting up to cradle the back of his neck and the 
other curled around his waist. 

He jerked as if she'd jabbed him with a needle and took a 
quick step backward, stumbling over his own feet.

"Mulder? What's wrong?"

He stared through her as if she were a stranger. "What?"

"What's going on? Are you hurt?"

Blinking, he focused on her at last. "No. Why?"

"Why? Because you practically jumped out of your skin, 
that's why. Are you sure you're okay?"

"I'm fine, Scully."

Scully frowned. Mulder's tense posture and shuttered 
expression said otherwise. But before she could press the 
issue, he began walking toward the street.

"There's Grey. Let's go."

After hesitating briefly, she followed. Mulder moved 
easily, no hint of discomfort in his stride or as he climbed 
into the back seat. As she buckled her seatbelt, Scully 
glanced over her shoulder. Mulder had tipped his head back 
and closed his eyes.

Nothing to worry about, she told herself. He's fine. 

Grey hunched over the steering wheel, occupied with the 
task of driving and his own thoughts. Numb with fatigue, 
Scully sank back into her seat, mirroring Mulder's position. 
Within minutes, the silence lulled her into a doze.

Mulder slowly opened his eyes. A line formed between his 
brows and he sat up straighter, cocking his head. Listening 
intently. Nodding.

Grey eased the car around a corner, tapping his fingers 
against the steering wheel. Scully drowsed, her breath a 
soft, rhythmic whisper. And the tires hummed against the 
pavement.


Chapter 18

Georgetown
Tuesday
3:58 AM


*So close.

Once unbearable, the pain has faded to a distant 
annoyance, like the insistent yap of a barking dog. He can't 
feel his arms or legs, and simply moving air in and out of 
his lungs takes immense effort. He's tired. So tired. And 
death is close.

"Did you know that human physiology has a much higher 
concentration of nerve endings than ours does? It's what 
makes your species so sensitive to touch. And to pain."

Fresh agony blossoms in his belly, driving back the 
numbness. The air catches in his chest and he coughs, 
weak, ragged spasms that spray her pristine lab smock with 
a fine, red mist. He groans but doesn't try to blink back the 
tears. If only they would blur her voice as well as her face.

"Your stamina has been truly remarkable, Mulder. Others 
succumbed long before reaching this stage." She wipes his 
lips and chin with a soft cloth before tapping information 
into what looks like a palm pilot.

He can't take his eyes off her hair, not even when his vision 
darkens around the edges and her words stop making 
sense. Red, silky, soft as a butterfly wing. He loves how it 
feels between his fingertips, the way it flickers around her 
face like bright flames. The sweet, clean smell when he 
nibbles that spot just behind her ear, the one that makes her 
moan his name.

Scully.

A quick, almost painless tug and he's free, severed at last 
from the body that holds only pain. A final breath whistles 
from his lungs, and he floats away...

...and awakens, screaming. His body is on fire, twisted from 
the inside out. They've crawled inside him--squeezing 
muscle and bone, rearranging organs, slithering through 
his blood. Fight or flight, he opens his eyes, desperate to 
escape. Darkness. It envelopes him. He flings his arms 
upward, smashing his knuckles against something solid.

He's locked in. He pushes with his hands, pulling up his 
legs, but his forehead and knees crack against an 
unmovable barrier, knocking him backward. The warmth of 
his own panicked breaths rebounds against his face. 
What...?

Oh, God. OhGodOhGodOhGodOhGod. Is it a coffin? Is he 
buried alive? He smells antiseptic and his own blood, not 
freshly turned earth.  There's not enough air. His heart 
pounding, his chest heaving, he pushes, then scratches at 
the blackness smothering him, sobbing and pleading. 

Let me out! I'm not dead!*

Mulder jerked awake. His heart hammered against his ribs 
and he gulped for air, surprised when it slipped easily into 
his lungs. He sat up, mopping his sweaty face with his tee 
shirt. Beside him Scully slept on, her hands curled beneath 
her chin and her face peaceful.

When he'd stopped shaking, Mulder eased out of the bed. 
He swapped his damp shirt with a fresh one and shuffled 
out of the room. Grey was spending the night at Kristen's, 
and the living room felt strangely empty without him. He 
sank onto the couch, clutching a throw pillow to his chest.

Tomie's theory had proven correct. Once he recalled his 
horrific experiences with the healing device, other 
memories began returning at an alarming rate. He'd 
suffered three more flashbacks before collapsing into bed, 
too tired to contemplate anything but sleep. When the 
nightmares had picked up right where the flashbacks left 
off, he'd broken down and agreed to take Tomie's damn 
pills.

That was four hours ago. He was still bone tired, his eyes 
gritty and his limbs heavy and uncoordinated. Yet beneath 
the exhaustion hummed a current of tension that would not 
allow him the respite his body craved. He felt jumpy. 
Jittery. There was something urgent he needed to do, some 
place he needed to be, but he couldn't put his finger on 
what it was.

*It's time to go.*

The odd refrain had flickered through his mind all 
afternoon, as if someone were whispering in his ear. He 
tightened his arms, rocking a little. Go where? He felt 
trapped by his own weakened body and the oppressive 
concern that radiated from Scully and Grey. 

Tossing the pillow aside, he lurched upright and wandered 
over to the window, leaning his forehead against the cool 
glass. A full moon bathed the street, glinting off pavement 
still damp from a brief spell of snow flurries. The darkened 
windows, the absence of traffic, the softly glowing 
streetlights--all radiated a stillness that mocked the 
relentless turmoil churning inside him.

How had he deluded himself into believing he could take 
ownership of his life? That he could walk away and leave 
the nightmare behind? His existence was tangled up in a 
web of deceit and betrayal. Once Spender had accused him 
of becoming a player, a cheap shot meant to impugn 
Mulder's integrity. But the truth was that he'd been a pawn 
in their damn cosmic chess game from the moment of his 
conception. He'd never be free of it.

Never.

*Time to go.*

It was a compulsion now, a constant tickling in his brain. 
He turned from the window, rubbing his head.

* Now, while she's sleeping. Hurry.*

He opened the closet and reached for his coat. When his 
fingers brushed Scully's jacket, an electric tingle shot up his 
arm and the tickle in his head became a command.

*IN THE POCKET TAKE IT REACH INSIDE PICK IT UP 
TAKE IT HOLD IT TOUCH IT YOURS ALL YOURS*

He slid his hand inside the pocket and grabbed it.

Smooth, slick, warm, it fit perfectly into his palm. He shut 
his eyes as serenity washed through him, the rush as sweet 
as a narcotic. His chin dipped to his chest and his body 
relaxed.

The voice gentled. 

*Relax. Let go. You don't have to think anymore. Just do 
exactly as you're told. We'll take care of you, Mulder. No 
more fear. No more worries. Come back to us. It's time.*

He smiled and opened his eyes. Of course, everything made 
sense now. He didn't belong here; he needed to go back. 
They were waiting for him.

He put on his jacket--Quiet, don't wake her--and walked to 
the elevator. Punching the button, he hummed quietly and 
watched the lighted numbers count down.

Outside, a gust of wind ruffled his hair and peeled back his 
jacket. Mulder zipped it to his chin, hunching his shoulders. 
He stared up and down the deserted street, a thread of 
uncertainty penetrating his comfortable haze. He had to go-
-but how? 

His patted his pockets. No keys. He couldn't take the car or 
get back into the apartment without waking Scully. 

Uncertainty blossomed into anxiety. This was crazy; he 
was standing on the street in the middle of the night with no 
idea where he was headed or how he was going to get 
there. He should turn around, march right back into the 
building and...

*Relax. Don't think. Feel. Feel us. Come back.*

He started walking, and the relief was instantaneous. 
Apprehension melted away with each footstep and he 
smiled, barely acknowledging the chill cutting through his 
too-thin jacket and nipping at his feet. Cupping the rock in 
his hand, he caressed the smooth surface with his thumb, 
mesmerized by the touch. For the first time in longer than 
he could remember, he felt good. So good.

Ducking his head and shielding his face from the brunt of 
the wind, he quickened his pace.


Georgetown
5:11 AM


Scully rolled onto her stomach, burrowing further under the 
covers. Still chilled despite the blankets, she scooted 
toward the middle of the bed, blindly seeking Mulder's 
warmth.

She snapped her eyes open and sat up, listening. After a 
wretched afternoon battling flashbacks, he'd fallen into an 
exhausted sleep. Unfortunately, the returning memories had 
pursed him into his dreams and he'd awakened in a cold 
sweat shortly thereafter. The fact that he'd finally agreed to 
one of Tomie's pills testified to the depth of his fatigue.

She'd crawled into bed full of hope that the night might 
pass without further incident. Mulder, sprawled across the 
mattress, hadn't twitched when she'd snuggled up to his 
back. The slow, steady whisper of his breath had lulled her 
into slumber.

She should have known it was too good to last.

Stopping to check the bathroom, she continued into the 
living room. She expected flickering blue light and Mulder 
stretched on the sofa, remote in hand, but found only 
darkness and silence. 

"Mulder?"

In the kitchen, an empty water bottle sat beside the sink. 
"Mulder?" Louder and more insistent, but still greeted with 
silence.

She did another sweep of the apartment, this time with an 
investigator's eye. The shirt Mulder had worn to bed lay 
discarded on the floor; his dresser drawer hung open. She'd 
seen enough sweat-soaked clothing over the past week to 
recognize evidence of a nightmare.

In the living room she picked the throw pillow off the floor 
and returned it to the couch. The curtains were open a 
crack, revealing the street below. 

Damn it. Nick had made it very clear that running was out 
of the question. Not only would it sap Mulder's already 
flagging energy level and expose him to the elements, it 
burned calories he desperately needed.

Scully opened the hall closet. Her coat had been knocked 
off its hanger and left in a heap on the floor next to 
Mulder's running shoes. His Birkenstocks, however, were 
missing. What the hell...?

She snatched his leather jacket from the hanger, eyes 
slipping shut when she felt a telltale bulge in his pocket.

Mulder's wallet and keys.

You didn't go running in sandels and you sure as hell didn't 
traipse around in the middle of the night without your keys.

What was he doing? Had he become caught in some kind 
of flashback? Could he be wandering around the city, 
trapped in his own mind? She had to find him, *now*, 
before he hurt himself. Scully refused to consider the 
possibility that he might hurt someone else.

She returned to the kitchen and grabbed the phone, 
punching numbers with shaking fingers. It was picked up 
on the second ring.

"Dana?"

"Kristen, I need to talk to Grey."

"What's wrong? Is it Mulder?"

"Kristen, please, I can't...I have to--"

"Calm down, darlin'. I'm right here."

She sagged, her legs trembling. "Grey, Mulder's gone."

"*Gone*? Where?"

"I don't know. If I did I wouldn't be standing here talking 
on the phone!"

"Okay, okay. Slow down and back up."

She sucked in a deep breath. "He was sound asleep when I 
went to bed. That was around midnight. When I woke up 
about fifteen minutes ago, he was gone. His shoes are 
missing but he left his wallet and keys."

"Maybe he went for a run." She could hear Grey moving 
about the room, opening and shutting drawers.

"Wrong shoes. And he'd have taken his keys."

"You've got a point. Are you sure he didn't leave a note? 
Maybe he went for a walk and just forgot the keys. If he'd 
had a flashback, wasn't thinking straight--"

"That's what I'm afraid of."

"Meaning?"

"What if he wasn't in his right mind when he left? The 
flashbacks have been intense. If he thought he was back on 
the ship--"

"From what you're saying, he didn't just run out of the 
apartment. He had the presence of mind to go to the closet, 
put on shoes, a coat--"

"Oh my God." Scully stiffened, and spun toward the 
hallway. Her eyes locked onto her jacket as she forced her 
legs into motion.

"Dana? What is it?"

Ignoring Grey, she scooped up the coat and plunged her 
hand into the pocket.

Empty.

Oh, God. Mulder.

"Damn it, Dana! Answer me!"

"It's my fault. How could I have been so stupid?" Tears 
flooded her eyes and caught in the back of her throat. "God, 
this can't be happening. It can't be happening!"

"What are you talking about? Dana, talk to me. I'm in the 
car but I can't get there for at least fifteen minutes and 
you're scaring the shit out of me. What's your fault?"

Her legs folded and she slid down the wall. "Mulder has the 
device."

"What dev--the *rock*? How?"

"Skinner wanted our lab to have a look at it. I'd picked it up 
from the guys and was taking it to the Bureau when Tomie 
called. In all the commotion this afternoon I just...I..." Her 
voice cracked and she couldn't continue.

"You forgot." Grey sighed. "We spent the afternoon peeling 
him off the ceiling, Dana. It's no wonder--"

"Why would he do it, Grey? *Why* would he touch it 
knowing what we know? It doesn't make any sense, 
unless..."

"Unless he didn't have a choice." Grey's voice hardened. 
"Put on come clothes and meet me out front. He doesn't 
have a car or his wallet--he can't have gone far."

"Can't he? If we're right, Grey, then they called him. They 
want him back."

"I don't give a damn what they want. They can't have him. 

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

The first weak threads of sunlight were glinting off car 
windows as the cab coasted to the curb.

"Hey, buddy. Need a lift?"

Mulder pulled up short and stared at dark eyes in a stubbled 
face. "What?"

"I said, do you need a lift? I've been watching you for the 
last two blocks and no offense but ya look like you're ready 
to keel over."

He limped closer. His legs were weak with exhaustion and 
his feet felt like wooden blocks. Funny, he hadn't noticed 
until now.

"You'd give me a ride?"

The cabbie popped his gum. "For the standard rate." He 
squinted at Mulder. "Ya got money, don't ya?"

Money? Mulder searched through his pockets. No wallet, 
but he pulled out a slim leather folder. The cabbie's eyes 
widened when the case flipped open.

"FBI? Hey, you on a case?"

*It's time to go. Hurry.*

"I have to go. It's urgent."

"Never let it be said that Pete Sobricki didn't do his part to 
uphold justice. Hop in--I'll bill ya."

Mulder blinked, then opened the door and climbed in back. 
"Thanks."

"So...where to?"

"What?"

Pete slung an arm over the seatback and turned to face him. 
"Were you in an accident or something? 'Cause you're sure 
acting a little rough around the edges."

"I'm fine. I'm just in a hurry."

Pete lifted his hands. "Okay, okay. So tell me where we're 
going."

Mulder frowned, then his forehead smoothed. "West. 
Virginia."

Pete snorted but turned back toward the wheel. "Virginia. 
Could you be a little more specific?"

Mulder relaxed, tipping his head onto the seatback and 
closing his eyes. Shenandoah National Park. Skyline 
Drive."


Chapter 19

Arlington
Tuesday
7:34 AM


"This isn't working." Scully sat forward, staring at the back 
of a tall, dark-haired man striding briskly down the street. 
He turned around as they drew closer, and she slumped in 
her seat. "We're never going to find him this way."

"How the hell did he manage to give us the slip?" Grey 
navigated the car around a corner, his shoulders tense and 
his words clipped. "Forget the fact that he's got no money 
or transportation. He wasn't physically strong enough to 
walk this far."

"He obviously found a way." Scully clenched her jaw. 
"Time is running out. We have to *do* something."

"I'm taking suggestions."

"Pull over."

"What?"

"Just...pull over. Let's think this through."

Shrugging, Grey maneuvered the car to an open parking 
space. He shut off the engine and looked at Scully with 
raised brows.

She pinched the bridge of her nose, struggling to think past 
the throbbing pulse in her head. "I called Skinner before I 
left the apartment. He promised he'd let the DC police 
know that an agent is missing. I think it's time you and I 
attacked this from a different angle."

"Okay." Grey tipped his head back and gazed up at the 
ceiling. "If we can't track him down, maybe we can figure 
out where he's going. You know, head him off at the pass."

"I thought of that. Given that Mulder's abduction and return 
took place within a thirty mile radius, the Lynchburg area 
would seem a likely destination."

"But?"

"I'm not willing to risk Mulder's life on those odds. If we 
go racing out there and we're wrong.ô"

"We've lost him," Grey finished. 

"Skinner said he'd fax Mulder's picture to police in 
Lynchburg and towns in the surrounding area. They'll be 
watching for him." 

"That damn rock! We should have destroyed it instead of--" 
He bolted upright, his eyes huge. "Dana, the rock! If they 
can track him with it, why can't we? Langly could rig that 
machine--"

"The oscilloscope. Go." Scully pulled out her cell phone as 
Grey gunned the engine. "I can't believe we didn't think of 
this before." She drummed her fingers on the armrest. 
"Frohike? It's Scully. Listen carefully; Mulder needs your 
help."

Grey focused on weaving the car in and out of the sluggish, 
rush hour traffic. He gripped the steering wheel so hard his 
knuckles turned white and his fingers ached.

"It's not your fault."

Her soft statement startled him. He darted a quick look at 
her face before doggedly returning to the road. "If I'd been 
there, this wouldn't have happened."

"You can't know that."

"I know he'd never have made it out the door without me."

"You've slept on that couch every night for more than a 
week; put your personal life on hold for the past month. 
You needed a break, Grey. Stop blaming yourself."

"Excuse me?"

She sighed. "Okay, okay. I will if you will."

Frohike was waiting for them, the expression on his face 
less than encouraging.

"Don't look at me like that, Melvin." Scully breezed past 
him and went straight to the lab bench where Byers and 
Langly huddled over the oscilloscope. "You boys are 
always bragging that your kung fu is the best. Well, now 
would be a very good time to prove it."

"It's not a matter of kung fu." Byers faltered under Scully's 
pleading gaze. "Our equipment can only function within a 
certain range, and the fact that we're being bombarded by 
competing signals only complicates things."

Langly fiddled with various knobs. "Hey, if you could 
narrow the search area down a little, we might be able to 
get close enough to zero in on Mulder's signal."

"Langly, if I had that kind of information I wouldn't need 
the damn equipment!" 

Grey stepped between them. "What if we got in the car, 
drove around with that thing? Maybe we'd get lucky and 
latch onto the right signal."

Byers ducked his head. "I'm afraid the chances of success 
would be practically nonexistent. It would be like trying to 
find a needle in a haystack."

Scully smacked her palm on the counter. "Then we'd better 
start looking. Mulder can't be out of our reach. There has to 
be a way--"

Her cell phone rang. Pulling it from her pocket, she turned 
her back. "Scully."

"Dude, you gotta know we want to find Mulder as much as 
you do," Langly said to Grey.  "We can try boosting the 
power on this thing, maybe increase the range. But that's 
gonna take time."

"We don't have any!" Grey rubbed a hand over his face. 
"You boys know what kind of shape Fox was in when we 
found him. Do you really think he'll survive another trip 
with those bastards?"

"We've got a lead. Pack that thing up and let's go!" Scully 
shoved the phone into her pocket. When they gaped at her, 
she narrowed her eyes. "Now!"

The Gunmen sprang into action, loading the oscilloscope 
and several smaller pieces of equipment into a large 
carryall. 

"Can that thing run on batteries?"

Byers glanced up from folding cords. "No, but we have a 
small generator in the van."

"What about when we have to leave the van?"

Langly waved a palm-sized device. "We've got two of 
these. They run on batteries. Their range is limited but if 
we get close enough, say within five to ten miles...."

"We will."

Grey nudged Scully's arm. "What's the story?"

"A cab driver phoned the Bureau asking about Special 
Agent Fox Mulder. Said he picked Mulder up in Arlington 
about 5:15 this morning. Mulder didn't have money for cab 
fare, but when the driver saw his badge he decided he could 
trust him to pay up later."

"He called to collect his money?"

"Not exactly. He told Skinner he couldn't shake an uneasy 
feeling--that something about Mulder felt 'off.' His odd 
behavior coupled with the fact that he insisted he be 
dropped off in the middle of nowhere had the guy worried 
Mulder might not be who he claimed. The cabbie said he 
didn't want some crazy person on the loose, posing as a 
Federal agent."

Grey frowned. "The middle of nowhere? Where exactly did 
this guy take him?"

Scully evaded his eyes, busying herself with taking a 
canvas bag from Frohike. "The mountains in Virginia, over 
two hours from here. Shenandoah National Park."

"Over two-- God, Dana! He's got a huge jump on us."

She shouldered the bag. "Then we'd better get moving."


Shenandoah National Park
1:22 PM

"Shit!"

Mulder sat up, gingerly dusting dirt and bits of dead leaves 
off his palms. He'd taken his third spill in less than an hour 
and his hands and knees were scraped and bloody. 
Grasping the trunk of a nearby sapling, he dragged himself 
to his feet.

His feet. The sandals tripped him up and provided no 
insulation for his sock-clad toes. Why hadn't he worn his 
hiking boots? Or his leather jacket? And while he was on 
the subject, what the hell was he doing out here? He'd been 
stumbling through the woods, following this damn trail for 
hours without seeing a living soul. He was tired, thirsty, 
and hopelessly turned around. Maybe...

*Keep going. Come back.*

Mulder shoved his chilled hands into his pockets, sighing 
as his tense muscles unwound. The rock heated his palm 
and fingers--the only warm spot on his chilled body. More 
importantly, it soothed his spirit. He started walking, 
ignoring his abraded knees and blistered feet. Everything 
would be okay.

He staggered along, dodging low-hanging branches, 
slipping and sliding when the trail turned damp and muddy. 
Watching his feet, he concentrated on the business of 
putting one in front of the other. The sounds and smells of 
the forest, his discomfort, all faded to white noise....

The raucous caw of a crow snapped him out of his trance. 
Mulder blinked, struggling to focus.

The clearing was about a hundred yards wide, a smooth 
grassy stretch of ground broken by the large trunks of 
several fallen trees. Shivering, he turned his face up into the 
weak sunlight. He didn't remember leaving the trail. 
Spinning in a slow circle, he searched the tree line, unsure 
which direction he'd come from.

No longer moving, weariness slammed into him. Mulder 
rubbed at his burning eyes, swaying a little.

*Rest now. Wait.*

Rest. That sounded wonderful.

Collapsing against one of the large tree trunks and finally 
sheltered from the wind, Mulder curled into a ball and 
burrowed his face into his jacket, creating a small pocket of 
warmth. Within minutes, he was asleep.


Skyline Drive
4:04 PM

"Another ten miles and we'll be back to the highway." 
Byers kept his eyes on the road, his voice neutral.

"Then we turn around and head south again."

Grey saw Langly and Frohike grimace at each other. He 
cleared his throat. "Dana, we've been up and down this road 
twice already. The sun's going down--in another hour it 
will be dark."

"And it's our best chance of finding him."

"All I'm saying is that maybe we should get some help. We 
could contact the park rangers, organize a search and 
rescue."

"By the time they get teams together it will be too late."

He swallowed, but there didn't seem to be enough spit. "It 
already may be too late."

She grabbed his arm. "Don't even say it. Mulder went all 
the way to Antarctica for me. He never gave up, and neither 
will I."

Grey held his ground, his own anger flaring. "You think I 
like being the voice of reason? I want to find Fox as much 
as you do, damn it! I just don't see the sense in blindly--"

"Will you two shut up? We're getting something." Frohike 
crouched by the oscilloscope, tweaking dials. "Easy. Easy. 
Bingo! That's it!"

"Are you sure?" Scully leaned over his shoulder.

"One thing you can say about this signal, it's unique," 
Langly answered. "Byers, pull over as soon as you can find 
a place to stash the van or we're gonna lose this."

"There's a park entrance up ahead. Hang on."

By the time they parked and geared up it was dusk. Scully 
studied a map while the Gunmen snapped at each other, 
fumbling with the handheld units. 

"I thought you said those would work out here." She 
checked her weapon for the second time and flicked on her 
flashlight, panning it over the area.

"They will." Frohike snatched one from Langly's grasp. 
"What the hell are you doing, Ringo? You've got to set this 
threshold to maximum, or--"

"Oh, now you're the expert! Who was the genius that 
underestimated the damping affect the mountains would 
have on the signal?"

"Gentlemen, this isn't helping and we're--"

In perfect unison, "Shut up, Byers."

Scully swung the flashlight beam into their eyes. "I'm going 
to shoot all three of you if you don't have those things 
ready to go in sixty seconds."

Langly blinked, Byers froze like a deer caught in the 
headlights of an oncoming truck, but Frohike just smirked. 
"No need for violence. We're ready."

Grey and Scully moved in close as Frohike switched on the 
machine. "This shows signal strength." He pointed to a 
light bar with a single flickering square. "As you can see, 
right now it's barely registering. I'm guessing Mulder must 
be at least a couple miles from here."

"More like five," Langly muttered.

"As we home in on the signal, more of the bar will light 
up," Frohike said. "Theoretically, when we find Mulder the 
entire bar will be red."

Grey frowned. "Theoretically?"

The Gunmen eyed each other before Byers finally spoke. 
"We put these together months ago. The, ah, project we 
intended them for fell through and they've been gathering 
dust ever since."

"You've never tested them?" Scully asked.

"Not outside the lab, no."

She bit her lip, but took the instrument from Frohike. "Then 
let's hope you boys knew what you were doing." She 
pointed her flashlight at the trees. "According to the map, 
this is an access point to the Appalachian Trail. It should be 
just beyond those trees, running roughly north and south

Grey held up a hand. "Wait a minute. If you're going to 
suggest what I think--"

"We should divide into two groups, keeping in contact by 
radio."

"That's what I was afraid of. Look, Dana, I think splitting 
up is a bad idea. It's almost dark, we're in the middle of the 
forest, and these guys are amateurs at this kind of thing."

"Who you calling amateur?" Langly waved the device in 
his hand. "Don't forget, you wouldn't be here without us."

Frohike folded his arms. "What he said."

"Splitting up doubles our chances of finding Mulder. You 
can take Byers and Langly and head south; Frohike and I 
will go north." Scully laid a hand on Grey's arm and 
lowered her voice. "I understand your concern, but each of 
us is armed. I'm willing to take the risk."

Byers squared his shoulders. "So are we."

Grey sighed. "Then I think we should check in by radio 
every twenty minutes. And if you get lucky, I want you to 
wait for me before you approach him." When Scully 
frowned, he quickly added, "Fox is under the influence of 
an alien device, Dana. We have no idea what his state of 
mind is or what he may be capable of. I don't want you 
going near him without back-up."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence."

Grey ignored Frohike's mutter, pinning Scully with his 
eyes. After a moment she nodded and started walking.

"Fine. Let's go."

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

"Damn it, Langly, watch what you're doing!" Grey 
balanced on one leg as he fixed his shoe. "That's the second 
time you've tromped on my heel."

"Well, excuse me. Maybe you could give a guy a little 
warning before you stop dead in the middle of the trail. 
You're the only one with a good flashlight--we can't see 
shit back here."

Grey mentally counted to ten. It wasn't Langly's fault that 
they'd hiked several miles and come up empty. "Still 
nothing?" He jabbed a finger at the instrument in Langly's 
hand. Now even the single stuttering light had gone dark.

"Nada. It's pretty obvious Mulder never came this way."

"Unless your little invention is really a piece of useless 
junk."

"Hey! I spent a lot of hours on that so-called 'piece of junk,' 
and--"

Byers stepped between them, cutting off Langly mid-rant. 
"We told you they'd never been tested. We're doing the best 
we can under the circumstances."

Grey ducked his head and rubbed the back of his neck. "I 
know you are. Let's head back. Dana's due to check in any 
minute. How 'bout we pick up the pace?"

Langly extended his arm and Grey set off at a slow jog. He 
fought frustration and a rising sense of despair. Had they 
really believed the five of them could find Fox in the 
middle of this wilderness? What if by conducting their own 
search they'd thrown away viable opportunities to find 
him?

His thoughts consumed with worry for his brother, it was a 
moment before he registered the hiss of static from the 
radio on Byer's belt. Byers picked it up as Frohike's voice 
crackled to life.

"Byers, where are you?"

"Almost back to where we started." Byers looked at Grey. 
"No luck, I'm afraid."

"Yeah? Well the three of you better haul ass. The 'scope's 
lighting up like a Christmas tree. We're closing in on 
Mulder as we speak." Frohike's voice was giddy with 
excitement."

Grey grabbed the radio from Byers. "What's your 
position?"

They heard Frohike conferring with Scully before he 
replied. "We're about three miles along the trail but the 
signal's veering west. We're-- Scully...Scully, wait! Just 
follow the 'scope; it will show you the way. Gotta go."

"You heard him." Grey shoved the radio into his pocket. 
"Let's haul ass, boys."

To Grey's surprise, Langly and Byers stayed with him, 
despite the breakneck pace. He moved as fast as he dared 
without risking a broken ankle from the uneven, rocky 
ground. A mile down the trail the first light flickered to life, 
spurring him onward. The bar was nearly complete when it 
began to recede. Grey skidded to a stop.

"Shit! We're starting to lose it. We must have gone too far, 
passed the point they left the trail. Let's backtrack and then 
head west."

He'd barely finished speaking when the radio clicked. "Yo, 
Byers. You better answer, 'cause we're about to be in some 
deep doo doo." Frohike's whisper vibrated tension.

"It's Grey. What's up, Frohike?"

"We found Mulder, but he looks like crap. I reminded 
Scully she promised to wait for you but she said...uh, well, 
let's not go there."

Grey groaned and started jogging. "She's with him right 
now?"

"Yeah. And he's acting strange, man. I mean, stranger than 
usual. Edgy. Scully's trying to calm him down."

"What's your position?"

"A small clearing just west of the trail. I think you better 
hurry."

"On our way. We're just around the corner."

They crashed through the trees and underbrush, stumbling 
over roots and dodging low-hanging branches. When the 
indicator bar shone red and the trees thinned, Grey slowed 
to a walk.

Moonlight bathed the clearing, a stark contrast to the 
darkened woods. Frohike stood just beyond the treeline, his 
attention focused on something beyond Grey's line of sight. 
Grey turned to Byers and Langly.

"Hang back. We don't want Fox any more upset than he 
already is."

He moved up beside Frohike, keeping to the shadows as 
much as possible. "Frohike, what's going on? Where are 
they?"

Frohike didn't acknowledge him. Instead he slowly raised 
both hands.

"Frohike! What the--" Grey broke off, heart pounding.

Fox and Dana stood in the center of the grassy area, beside 
a fallen tree. He was talking to her in a low, intimate tone, 
but staring at Grey and Frohike with lifeless eyes. One arm 
around her neck, he crushed her body against his.

And held a gun to her temple.


Chapter 20

Shenandoah National Park
5:37 PM


Scully clutched the arm pressed against her throat, digging 
her fingers into the soft cotton. "Put the gun down, Mulder. 
You don't want to do this."

He rambled on, his lips caressing her ear. "You don't 
understand, Scully. It's time to go. They'll be here soon and 
I can't...I can't let you stop me."

She shivered. The husky voice, the tickle of his breath, the 
heat of his body pressed along hers left her weak-kneed 
with fear. The man holding her so tightly bore little 
resemblance to her husband.

From the moment she'd found him on the ground, huddled 
in a ball and hypothermic, he'd been spouting nonsense. 
*It's all right, Scully. There's no reason to worry; I'm fine.* 
Oblivious to the abrasions, the bruises, the bone-rattling 
chill. Words tumbled from his lips, uttered in his voice, but 
they weren't *Mulder*. He sounded as if he were reading 
from a script.

"Mulder, you're hurting me." From the corner of her eye 
she saw Grey edging closer. "Put away the gun and you can 
explain everything to me. Help me understand; I *want* to 
understand."

"You don't want to understand; you just want to change my 
mind." He tensed and pressed the gun harder against her 
skull. "That's far enough, Grey."

Still over ten feet away, Grey froze, then pasted on a smile. 
"Well, hello to you, too, little brother. You want to tell me 
what's wrong? Maybe I can help."

"I don't need your help. I'd be fine if everyone would just 
leave me alone."

"Fox, you've got your wife in a headlock with a gun 
pressed to her temple. Way I see it, you're about as far from 
fine as you can get."

Mulder shuddered, then swayed and the gun shifted away 
from her head. Scully became a dead weight, using gravity 
and a quick twist to squirm out from under the arm at her 
throat.

But Mulder grabbed a fistful of her hair and yanked, 
catching her as she stumbled backward and crashed into his 
body. Something hard smacked her jaw and she went still, 
blinking tears of pain as he nestled her gun snugly under 
her chin.

"*Don't*, Scully."

"Fox--"

Mulder shuffled backward, dragging her with him. "It's 
time, Grey. You can't stop this. I've got to go." His delivery 
was chilling. Matter-of-fact. Reasonable.

A figure detached itself from the shadows at the treeline. 
Frohike. His glasses reflected the moonlight, turning his 
face into an expressionless mask as he jabbed a finger at 
the sky.

"We've got incoming, man. If we don't get the hell out of 
here the phrase 'Beam me up, Scotty' is gonna take on a 
whole new meaning for all of us."

Mulder's iron grip on her hair prevented Scully from 
looking, but she saw the color drain from Grey's face.

"Fox, for the love of God, let her go! We've got to get out 
of here; you don't realize what you're doing. Remember 
what they did to you, the way they hurt you, broke your 
fingers, your--"

"Shut up! All of you, shut the fuck up!"

It was the first crack in his calm exterior. Mulder shifted 
restlessly behind her. Fine tremors vibrated through his 
body and Scully could feel his heart hammering against his 
ribs. She squirmed in his arms, desperate to see his face.

"Remember it, Mulder. All of it. The pain. The fear. The 
way they tore you apart and put you back together. They 
hurt you, Mulder, and made you want to die. You don't 
want to go back to--"

Agony blasted through her cheekbone, showering sparks 
across her vision. Scully cried out, sagging against Mulder 
as she fought to remain conscious. Grey shouted, fierce, 
pleading words that rolled over her without meaning. She 
saw his hand reach toward the small of his back, then drop 
to his side. Wincing, she forced her tongue to make the 
right sounds. What emerged was a slurred whisper.

"Grey...stop this...know what to do."

Grey's gaze locked onto her face and time slowed to a 
crawl. His eyes, wild with fear, widened as the meaning of 
her words sank in. He shook his head.

"Dana, no. I...I can't."

She wanted to scream, to remind Grey that there were evils 
far worse than death, but Mulder was choking off her air. 
And then she felt searing heat. Oh, God. The device.

"Grey. Please!"

Grey shut his eyes, twisting his face into a grimace. Then in 
one smooth motion he pulled his gun from the small of his 
back and fired.

Scully screamed as Mulder collapsed, taking her down with 
him, their arms and legs tangled together. Her head struck 
the ground and the breath whooshed from her lungs. Above 
the roaring in her ears she could hear Grey and Frohike 
shouting. Rough hands moved her away from Mulder's 
body.

"...coming...find it before...how the hell should I...do it 
now!"

Someone grabbed her arm and tugged her upright. Pain 
knifed through her skull, and the world spun sickeningly 
while she fought for balance. Byers face swam into view, 
his eyes huge and his mouth moving rapidly.

"...Scully...move before...trees...provide cover..."

He slung her arm around his neck and she pushed with her 
legs, wobbling to her feet. They staggered across the grass, 
weaving drunkenly. She heard Frohike and Langly 
screaming at each other. Grey sprinted toward the trees, 
Mulder slung over his shoulder in a fireman's carry.

They ran, crashing through underbrush and tripping over 
tree roots, until her lungs were ready to burst. At last Grey 
barked out the command to stop and they all dropped to the 
ground, panting.

As she caught her breath, Scully's head cleared and the pain 
receded to a dull ache. Mulder lay on the ground, Grey and 
Frohike crouched over him. His outstretched hand was 
limp.

"Damn it, Frohike, you've got to press harder! Use this." 
Grey stripped off several layers of clothing, tossing Frohike 
his tee shirt. "He's losing too much blood."

"I can't believe you shot him." Frohike folded the shirt and 
tucked it against Mulder's right shoulder, leaning his full 
weight into the compression. 

"I didn't exactly have a lot of options. That ship was closing 
fast and Fox was standing there with his thumb out." Grey's 
retort sounded belligerent but Scully saw his hands 
trembling as he slipped his jacket beneath Mulder's head.

"Yeah, but... If you'd been off an inch you could've nailed a 
lung, not to mention Scully."

"But he didn't." Scully shrugged off Byers' supportive hold 
and crawled to Mulder's side. She looked into Grey's red-
rimmed eyes. "He saved Mulder, and the rest of us, as 
well." She nudged Frohike out of the way. "Hold the 
flashlight, I need to see the wound."

The bullet had struck the upper portion of Mulder's right 
shoulder, a mirror image of the wound she'd inflicted when 
he had been whacked out of his mind and ready to shoot 
Krycek.

"Turn him. I need to check for an exit wound."

Grey and Frohike carefully rolled Mulder onto his side. 
Scully touched the blood soaked shirt, feeling her tensed 
muscles relax. The bullet had passed through cleanly. 
Mulder would be hurting for a few weeks, but the damage 
would eventually heal.

"Here." Byers pressed another folded piece of cloth into her 
hand, along with a belt. 

She accepted it and smiled tightly, quickly and efficiently 
binding the wounds. Mulder was out cold, not even 
twitching when she tightened the belt to exert pressure. His 
depth of unconsciousness troubled her, but she shoved the 
worry aside. First order of business was getting him the hell 
out of this forest. She'd deal with the rest later.

"That's all I can do here. He needs a hospital." She looked 
at Grey. "It's a long way to the car. Are you going to be 
able to carry him?"

Grey smiled but his voice was hoarse with emotion. "It 
won't be the first time I've had to haul his ass out of the 
woods." He brushed his fingers along her bruised cheek. 
"How 'bout you? You took a helluva knock from that gun."

"I'll be a lot better once we get out of here." Scully 
stiffened and gripped Grey's arm. "The device! What 
happened to it? Mulder--"

"Easy." Grey covered her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. 
"We found it in his pocket. It's been taken care of."

"Grey, I know I don't have to tell you how dangerous that 
thing is. We don't really understand how it works; they 
could still be homing in on it."

"Uh...no. They can't."

Scully turned toward Langly, whose gaze shifted between 
her and Grey. "You can't be sure of that."

"Actually...we can." Frohike waved at hand at Langly. 
"Show her the device, Einstein."

Langly reached into his pocket and pulled out a 
handkerchief. Folded up inside, shards of the rock mixed 
with delicate filaments and a glistening viscous substance. 
"We, um, smashed it. Between two stones."

"YOU smashed it," Frohike said, then added grudgingly. 
"Not that I tried to stop you."

"It was the only way I could think of to shut it off." Langly 
ducked his head. "Sorry, Scully."

She stared at the bizarre mixture of organic and inorganic 
material. Our concrete proof of extraterrestrial 
intelligence. Mulder's gonna go ballistic. And then the 
implication sank in and she smiled. Mulder was going to go 
ballistic. Thank God.

Scully sighed. "Forget it, Langly. Let's get out of here. I 
think I've had enough of Mother Nature to last a lifetime."

Grey stood and pulled Mulder across his shoulders. "You 
and me both, darlin'. You and me both."


Georgetown Medical Center
12:31 AM

God, he was tired. Grey leaned against the back of the 
elevator and closed his eyes. His back ached like a son of a 
bitch and the muscles in his legs thrummed with 
exhaustion. Since his destination was the third floor, he 
didn't move when the car stopped at the next level and 
someone stepped inside.

"Don't take this the wrong way, but...you look like shit."

Grey opened his eyes. "Walt. Didn't realize you'd be the 
one handling damage control. Guess Dana figured she'd 
better call in the big guns."

Skinner frowned. "When I talked to Scully she said you 
were second guessing what you'd done. I'd hoped she was 
mistaken."

"Guess it's just further proof that a penchant for guilt really 
can be hereditary." The elevator doors rumbled open and 
Grey got out. 

Skinner caught hold of his arm. "Don't. You're a cop, Grey, 
so think like one. You were looking at an agitated and 
extremely unstable individual holding an agent hostage."

Grey jerked free from his grasp. "That unstable individual 
happened to be my brother, damn it! I *shot* my own 
brother." He ran a hand through his hair and cupped the 
back of his neck. "We were in the middle of the wilderness, 
Walt. If I'd hit an artery, a vital organ, Dana--"

"But you didn't. They're alive right now because you had 
the balls to make a tough decision. Don't cheapen it with 
self-pity."

Grey glared at him, then stalked down the hallway. Scully 
stood as they approached the waiting room. Under the 
harsh fluorescent lighting her shadowed eyes, bruised 
cheek, and mud-spattered clothing made her look like a 
battered child.

"Sir." She tucked a tangled strand of hair behind her ear. 
"Thank you for getting here so quickly. The staff has 
naturally expressed concern over the nature of Mulder's 
injury."

"I'll take care of it, Scully." Skinner's gruff voice softened. 
"Are you all right?"

She touched her cheek, then quickly dropped her hand. "I'm 
fine. They put Mulder in a regular room. The bullet went 
straight through without complications. Nick said it should 
heal well, no muscle or nerve damage." She directed the 
information to Grey. "He's with Mulder now."

"He's going to be all right, then," Skinner said.

"He should be."

Skinner frowned. "Should be?"

"He hasn't regained consciousness, sir. Frankly, there's no 
reason for it. Nick is...concerned."

"Speaking of which..." Grey gestured behind her.

Nick Brewer emerged from a room on the right side of the 
hallway. He jotted something on a chart before slipping it 
into the pocket outside the door.

"Nick." Scully walked quickly to meet him.

Nick slipped an arm around her shoulders and squeezed, 
nodding to Skinner and Grey. "He's starting to come 
around."

Scully sagged. "Thank God."

"It's encouraging, but it's only a first step. He's in and out, 
and when he's in, he's not making much sense." Nick 
rubbed his jaw. "I know you said he didn't hit his head, and 
I see no evidence of trauma. But he's behaving as if he's 
concussed."

Grey raised an eyebrow. "Are you thinking what I'm 
thinking?" he asked Scully.

"There must have been a neurological connection between 
Mulder and the calling device in order for them to control 
his behavior."

"So when Langly smashed the device--"

"It was like hanging up a phone."

"Slamming it down, I'd say."

"It's possible such an abrupt disconnection could act like a 
blow to the head." Seeing Nick's slack-jawed stare, she 
hastened to explain. "You see they had a kind of transmitter 
that also--"

Nick held up both hands. "Later. I think I'd really rather 
hear this story over a cup of coffee--preferably with a shot 
of brandy.  Meanwhile, I'll schedule Mulder for an MRI to 
be on the safe side. You can go in and see him, but just for 
a few minutes."

Scully touched his arm. "Thanks, Nick. I'm sorry for 
dragging you in here at this hour. I know you'd already 
worked a full shift today."

He smiled and patted her hand. "De nada. One thing I can 
say about being Mulder's physician--it's never routine."

Grey followed Scully toward Mulder's room, slowing when 
he realized Skinner had remained behind. "Walt?"

"Go ahead. I'll straighten things out with the admitting 
doctor." 

Grey experienced a nasty case of d_j_ vu when he walked 
into the room--the pungent smell, the dim lighting, and Fox 
lying so pale and still. Had it only been two weeks since 
that hospital in Virginia? His sense of anger and 
helplessness felt the same.

He moved closer, wincing at the sight of the bandages 
swathing his brother's shoulder. This time he was 
responsible for putting Fox in that bed.

Scully held Mulder's hand and stroked the hair back from 
his brow. When he opened his eyes, she smiled.

"Hey."

He blinked, struggling to focus on her face, and mumbled 
something unintelligible.

She leaned in closer. "What?"

He licked his lips. "Help me. Don'...don't want to go."

Scully looked at him blankly for a moment, then tears filled 
her eyes. "It's all right, Mulder. You're safe now. You're not 
going anywhere."

Mulder's eyes slid shut. Grey, thinking he'd fallen asleep, 
was startled when his brother spoke again.

"Knew...lies...couldn't stop."

"It wasn't your fault." Grey crossed to the other side of the 
bed. "They were controlling you through that damn rock.

He turned toward Grey's voice. When he opened his eyes, a 
tear rolled down his cheek and disappeared. "Too 
strong...God, couldn't stop."

Grey swallowed against the lump in his throat. "Hey, it's 
okay. It's over."

"Scully." Mulder lifted an unsteady hand to her cheek. 
"Hurt you."

"Shhh." She pressed a kiss to his palm, then resumed the 
soothing motion of her fingers through his hair. "Don't, 
love. I'm all right."

A nurse stuck her head in the doorway. "I'll be taking 
Agent Mulder down for his MRI in a few minutes. If you'd 
like to grab a cup of coffee he should be back in his room 
in about half an hour."

"Thank you." Scully looked down at Mulder, who had 
slipped into a doze, and lowered her voice. "Guess that's 
our cue." She kissed his forehead and walked to the door.

Grey lingered, watching the slow rise and fall of his 
brother's chest. He turned to leave but Fox's soft voice 
called him back.

"Grey."

"Yeah, Fox."

His brother touched his bandaged shoulder. "Thank you."

Eyes burning, all he could do was nod.


Chapter 21

Georgetown
Friday
11:47 AM

Daytime television sucked.

Mulder tossed the remote on the coffee table, hissing when 
the movement pulled at his stitches. Tugging on the pillows 
at his back, he searched vainly for a comfortable position. 
No matter what he tried, something ached, throbbed, 
twinged, or spasmed. Besides the gunshot wound, he'd 
racked up a pretty impressive collection of cuts, scrapes, 
and bruises on his little jaunt through the forest.

Come to think of it, trees sucked, too.

Grey emerged from the kitchen, juggling two prescription 
bottles and a sandwich. "Time for your meds. Dana said to 
make sure you eat first." He wrinkled his nose. "She gave 
me a graphic description of what might happen if you 
don't."

"One of the perks to having a doctor in the family." Mulder 
scooted upright, grimacing.

"Here." Grey handed him the plate and adjusted his 
pillows.

Mulder peeked under the top slice of bread. "Roast beef 
and cheddar--hey! This looks like it's from Scooby's!"

"It is. I stopped by on my way over. Dana sounded so 
desperate to get to the grocery store, I figured the 
cupboards must be bare."

Mulder bit into the sandwich and hummed his approval. 
"God, I love Scooby's."

"I know." Grey watched him eat. "What do you want to 
drink?"

"Should be a pitcher of tea in the fridge."

Grey disappeared into the kitchen and returned with a large 
glass. He placed it on the coffee table within easy reach and 
sat down in an armchair.

"Thanks." Mulder took a sip and made a face. "Damn 
caffeine-free tea."

Grey popped up. "Hang on." Another trip to the kitchen and 
now he held a slice of fresh lemon in his hand. "Maybe this 
ease the pain."

Mulder swallowed and raised an eyebrow. "Uh...thanks."

Grey perched on the edge of his chair for a few minutes, 
then stood, rubbing his arms. "Seems a little chilly in here. 
Should I bump up the heat? Or I could get you a blanket."

His brother was halfway across the room before Mulder 
found his voice. "Grey?"

"Hmm?" He squinted at the thermostat, fiddling with the 
dial.

"What the hell is wrong with you?"

Grey gaped at him for a moment, then scowled. "Wrong 
with me? What's that supposed to mean?"

"You're acting strange."

"*Strange*?"

"Yeah, you know. All this." Mulder gestured around him. 
"The sandwich, the pillows, the lemon. What's up with 
that?"

Grey folded his arms. "What's...? Nothing is *up*. I'm just 
trying to help. Heck, it's not like I've never waited on you 
before."

"Yeah, but this is different. I mean, you're practically 
*hovering*. It reminds me of when Samantha broke my bat 
and she..." He broke off and narrowed his eyes.

"Look, if you don't want my help, that's fine. I'll just go eat 
my own lunch." Grey stalked toward the kitchen.

"You're beating yourself up because you had to shoot me."

Grey froze; his back and shoulders went rigid under his 
denim shirt. Mulder shoved aside his plate and sat up 
straighter, ignoring the pain. "That's bullshit, Grey."

His brother came back and sank into the chair. "You don't 
get it."

Mulder laughed. "You've got to be kidding. Guilt is my 
middle name."

"It's not guilt." When Mulder just looked at him, Grey 
amended, "Not exactly. Deep down I know there wasn't 
anything else I could have done."

"But?"

"It's not that simple."

"Sure it is. I was hurting Scully. And my debut as alien 
abductee was about to become a recurring role. You 
stopped it the only way you could."

"You're not hearing me. I know I did the right thing. I'm 
just having some trouble living with it." Grey pressed his 
clasped hands to his forehead and shut his eyes. "I can't 
shake it. The bullet spraying blood as it hits your shoulder. 
Your eyes opening wide, then squeezing shut when the pain 
kicks in. Dana's scream. You drop--" He pressed his lips 
tightly together.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't." Grey lowered his hands and looked at Mulder. "I 
don't mean for you to be sorry, Fox."

"You know, this isn't the first time I've been shot." Mulder 
smirked. "It isn't even the first time I've been shot by a 
family member--though technically Scully was just a good 
friend at the time."

Grey stared at him. "Is this the part where I'm supposed to 
feel better?"

"My shoulder hurts like hell. But it will heal. I'll heal. If 
they'd taken me...God, Grey. I couldn't do that again. I'm so 
damn grateful you were there."

They sat in awkward silence. Mulder picked up the rest of 
his sandwich, then cleared his throat.

"So if it helps you to, you know, hover, go right ahead."

Grey snorted. "That's big of you." He poked the remote 
with his toe. "Anything good on TV?"

"Nothing. If I see another talk show I might lose what's left 
of my mind. I was going to put on a movie."

"Yeah? Which one?"

"Plan 9 From Outer Space."

"Never heard of it. Is that some kind of campy Sci Fi 
flick?"

"You're kidding, right? You've never seen it? Plan 9 is a 
classic--the standard by which all Science Fiction movies 
should be measured."

"Uh-huh."

Mulder waved toward the kitchen. "Go get your lunch. 
You're in for a treat."

"Why do those words strike fear in my heart?"

"Very funny. You know, I liked you better when you were 
hovering."

"Just start the movie."

Mulder's smiled smugly. "If you insist."


4:36 PM


*The light beckons him--bright like the sun, but so cold. He 
shrinks back from its icy touch, but the voices whispering in 
his head reassure him and then it's not so bad. He needs it, 
needs Them, a craving far stronger than his one-time 
nicotine addiction.

"Mulder, stop! Don't do this!"

Scully's tear-filled eyes are almost as compelling as the 
light.

Almost.

He tightens his grip on her hair and shoves the gun under 
her chin, moving them both into the brilliance. Under the 
light Scully looks translucent, even her eyes washed of 
color.

"What are you doing? Mulder, no!" She's screaming now, 
fighting him despite the weapon.

He smiles. "Don't you get it, Scully? You're coming, too."*

Mulder bolted upright, panting. The dull throbbing in his 
shoulder dissolved the lingering images of his dream. He 
looked around, surprised to find himself lying on the couch.

"Hey. Are you all right?"

Scully turned on the lamp and moved into the room. 
Nodding, he shifted his legs so she could sit beside him. 
She tugged aside his tee shirt, checking his bandage, then 
brushed sweat-damp hair off his forehead.

"Monday, Mulder. We're getting this cut. There's 
something inherently wrong about your hair being longer 
than Grey's."

"Speaking of Grey--where did he go? We were watching a 
movie."

"That was four hours ago. You dropped off after the first 
thirty minutes. He said to tell you that you should seriously 
rethink your definition of a classic."

"He's at Kristen's?"

She nodded, linking her fingers with his. "He promised he'd 
stop by tomorrow before he leaves." Scully studied his 
face. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"Mulder, every muscle in your body just tensed up. Is it 
that Grey's going home? You know he doesn't have a 
choice--he's been on leave from work for nearly two 
months."

Mulder looked away, his face expressionless. "Of course he 
has to go home. He's put his life on hold for us...for me. It's 
not like he can hang around here indefinitely on the off 
chance I might lose it again."

Scully frowned. "What exactly was this latest nightmare 
about?"

He shrugged, careful to keep his tone light. "Just your 
standard post-attempted-alien-abduction trauma."

"Sometimes it helps to talk about it."

"Not this time."

Scully pressed on, despite his curt tone. "The device was 
destroyed, Mulder. You're not going to 'lose it' again." 
When he didn't answer, she tightened her fingers. "What 
are you thinking?"

He gazed at their joined hands. "That the device was just 
one means to an end. That either of us could be taken again, 
at any time. That the only way to free ourselves and 
eliminate the threat of colonization is by finding the proof 
that will expose Them." He sighed. "I can't run away from 
this, Scully. I have to go back to work. I have to go back to 
the Files."

Scully waited a beat before speaking. "Then I suppose it's a 
good thing Nick thinks you'll be cleared for duty in a few 
weeks."

Mulder lifted his head, searching her face. "You don't 
sound particularly surprised."

"Maybe because I'm not." She sat forward, turning to face 
him.

"But when we talked before I said--"

"Ten years, Mulder. You think I don't know you by now? It 
doesn't really matter what brought you to this quest for the 
Truth--the strategies of evil men or your own insatiable 
curiosity. You won't accept defeat. It's what I saw in you 
when we first met. It's why I followed you. And a part of 
why I fell in love with you."

"And look what it's gotten you."

Scully smiled. "I don't know. The view doesn't seem too 
bad."

"How can you say that? Consider what the years have cost 
you, Scully. Your abduction, Melissa's death, cancer, your 
ability to have children...

"And what have they brought you? Not Samantha, not even 
that concrete proof that extraterrestrial life exists. Nothing 
you set out to find. But even now, you won't give up." She 
cupped his cheek. "You've always said you want to believe, 
Mulder. So what is it you want to believe in?"

Mulder leaned into her touch and closed his eyes. "I want 
to believe that the dead aren't lost to us. That their 
sacrifices are part of a plan--one greater than any alien 
force. But most of all, I want to believe we can find the 
power to save ourselves."
 
Scully kissed him and rubbed her thumb lightly across his 
lower lip. "Then we believe the same thing."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure. Haven't you figured it out? I believe in *you*."

Mulder pulled her into his arms and pressed a kiss to her 
forehead. "Then maybe...maybe there is hope."


Epilogue

Bethesda
Thursday
3:21 PM


Mulder stood on the porch for a full minute before finally 
pressing the bell. He shuffled his feet, tightening his grip on 
the package tucked beneath his arm. The door opened and 
he straightened his posture, wincing when his shoulder 
twinged.

Tomie peered through the screen, her face lighting up. 
"Well now, you're a sight for sore eyes. I was beginning to 
think you'd fallen off the face of the earth." She smiled. 
"No pun intended."

"Sorry for dropping by unannounced. If this is a bad 
time..."

"Nothing bad about it. I was just sitting down to a cup of 
coffee. Come join me." She ushered him inside before he 
could answer.

Mulder followed the familiar path to the kitchen. He raised 
an eyebrow at the spotless countertops. "No Bread? 
Cookies?"

"Ah, well. We old ladies run out of steam now and then, 
don't we? But I can pull out the pie pans if it'll make you 
happy."

Mulder grinned. "The coffee will be fine, thanks. Oh, and 
this is for you. For when you do decide to pull out those 
pans." He placed the wrapped package into her hands. 
"Consider it an early Christmas present."

Frowning a little as she hefted it, Tomie tore off a bit of the 
paper and burst into hearty laughter.

"I figured I owed you one." Mulder watched as she 
removed the rest of the wrapping from the five-pound bag 
of flour. "More than one, actually."

"I'll see that you and Dana reap some of the benefits from 
this." Tomie set the flour on the counter. "So, how are you 
doing? It's been more than four weeks."

"Yeah. There was a...situation. I was injured and--"

"I know." She motioned for him to sit and picked up the 
coffeepot. "Dana called me right after you came home from 
the hospital. How's the shoulder?"

"She told you everything?"

"She gave me the bare bones." Tomie set a mug of coffee 
on the table in front of him and eyed him cautiously. "Are 
you angry?"

"No, I just..." Mulder frowned. "I'm not sure why she didn't 
tell me she talked to you."

"She didn't want to pressure you. She hoped if she gave you 
some space you'd make the decision to come back here on 
your own." Tomie collected her own mug and sat across 
from him. "Have you?"

Mulder rotated the cup between his palms. "I'm here, aren't 
I?"

"True. But then, we could just be two friends having a chat 
over a bag of flour, now, couldn't we?" When Mulder's lips 
twitched weakly, she continued, "I try not to make 
assumptions, Mulder. Every time I do they come back to 
bite me in the ass."

"I stopped taking the Paxil. And the sedative." Mulder 
looked squarely into her eyes.

Tomie just nodded. "Flashbacks?"

"Only one or two a week. And they're not as intense."

"Sleeping?"

Mulder shrugged. "I've struggled with that most of my life. 
It's no worse now than it's ever been."

"Sounds like you're feeling better."

"I am."

"So why are you here?"

"You're not buying the two old friends bit?"

Tomie sighed. "Back to the mind games? I thought we were 
past that, kiddo."

Mulder pushed aside the mug and sat back in his chair. "I'm 
here because there are some things I can't talk about to 
anyone else." He looked away. "Not even Scully."

Tomie's voice gentled. "Fair enough." She sipped her 
coffee until he spoke.

"Scully's told you about the device? How They...called 
me?"

"She did." Tomie paused, then added, "I know I don't have 
to tell you that you're not responsible for anything you did 
while under its influence."

Mulder waved a hand. "I've dealt with that. I hate what I 
did to Scully, but even I recognize how powerless I was."

"Okay."

Mulder stood and walked over to the window, facing away 
from her. "I was out there, in the middle of nowhere. No 
one in sight. They could have taken me at any time."

"But Dana and Grey found you."

"Hours later."

"Soon enough to stop you from being abducted a second 
time. You were very lucky."

"That's what's bothering me."

Tomie shook her head. "You're going to have to spell it out, 
Mulder. I have no idea where you're going with this."

Mulder turned around. "The device worked; I was right 
where they wanted me to be. What were They waiting for?"

"You obviously have a theory."

Mulder rubbed at the headache building over his right eye. 
"They came as soon as I grabbed Scully."

Tomie leaned forward, frowning. "Meaning?"

"I think they intended to take us both."

Tomie blinked, fumbling for a response. "That's one hell of 
a leap, Mulder."

"Believe me, I've given this a lot of thought. I've gone over 
it from every angle. I *want* to be wrong."

"But you don't think you are."

"What was the point in sending me back only to take me 
again a few weeks later? Why not just keep me? And if 
they wanted me so damn bad, why not beam me up and get 
the hell out of Dodge when They had the chance?" Mulder 
sank back into his chair. "They let me go for a reason. I was 
bait, Tomie. They were using me to get Scully."

Tomie's brown eyes were warm, her voice gentle. "If that's 
true it puts a whole new spin on things. You haven't shared 
this with Dana?"

"No. And for now, I don't intend to."

"You don't think she has the right to know?" she asked 
sharply. "That's bullshit, Mulder."

"You don't understand."

"Enlighten me."

Mulder closed his eyes as he sucked in a calming breath. 
"Scully had cancer five years ago. It was a direct result of 
her abduction. She nearly died."

"I'm sorry. But I still don't see how that justifies your 
keeping this from her."

"The cancer could return at any time. Scully is one of the 
bravest people I know, and she's done a damn fine job of 
putting aside her fear. But that tiny seed of doubt is always 
there, Tomie. When she's exhausted, or has a headache, or 
a nosebleed. It's a burden she lives with day to day." 
Mulder clenched his jaw. "I will NOT add to that burden."

"I see." Tomie swirled the dregs of coffee in her cup. "I'll 
admit I don't know Dana well, but from what I've seen she's 
not the kind of woman who'd appreciate you playing the 
protector. You do realize this could all blow up in your 
face? It'll be bad enough if Dana finds out you've been less 
than honest with her. But if something should happen, if 
she's taken--"

"She won't be."

"You know you can't guarantee that."

"I'll find a way." Mulder spoke through clenched teeth. "I'm 
going to stop Them, Tomie. Maybe not tomorrow, or next 
week, or even next year. But I believe I will find a way to 
put an end to this, once and for all. If that makes me crazy, 
well..." He shrugged.

"Maybe I'm the crazy one. I believe you just might do it." 
Tomie patted his hand. "And what about you? How are you 
holding up under your burdens?"

"By taking each day as it comes, I guess." Mulder 
grimaced. "Right now ending the threat of alien invasion 
doesn't seem nearly as impossible as getting on an elevator 
without breaking into a cold sweat."

"Ah, now ya see, you're in luck. I can't help you with the 
first part, but I'm sure we can work on the second. Provided 
you're willing, of course."

"Well...I suppose there are those pies to make." 

Tomie chuckled. "Before I'm through with you, you'll be 
baking Dana's birthday cake with your own two hands." 
She looked intently into his eyes. "You're going to be all 
right, Mulder."

Her words startled a smile onto his lips and a little of the 
weight lifted from his shoulders. "Yeah. I think I will be." 

For the first time, he believed it.


END

Author's Notes: Wow! What a ride! Thank you to the 
readers braved a WIP and made this 8-month journey with 
me. Your kind words of encouragement have made it a 
wonderful experience. And major thanks to my wonderful 
team of betas: To Suzanne, for making sure the medical 
stuff was accurate. To Deb, not just for beta, but for the 
title suggestion and the incredible webpage design. To 
Vickie, for cheering me onward and keeping them all in 
character. And to TCS1121 for making me work hard for 
every chapter. (Grey's on his way over, hon. You earned 
it!)