From winema@aol.com Thu Oct 17 06:02:42 1996 Hi all, I've recently edited and revised a story I posted last spring and I've decided to repost it. Many thanks to Katie for editing all those 'nitpicky' details that have made this a better piece. KELSY'S STUFF: Rating: PG-13 Classifications: XR Summary: Mulder/Scully romance. Mulder and Scully investigate a case that hits a little close to home, putting Scully in danger and forcing them both to confront their feelings for each other. DISCLAIMER: Mulder, Scully, Skinner, and any other recognizable character in this story belong to CC, 1013, and Fox Productions. The story and Casey Pao belong to me! Feel free to redistribute as long as my name remains attached. From winema@aol.com Thu Oct 17 06:03:28 1996 See intro for disclaimer/summary Bitter Pill Danielle Dupre' 23 February 1996 J. Edgar Hoover Building 9:17 am, basement office Dana Scully checked her watch and sighed. The old round clock on the wall read 9:17 am and Mulder was late--again. She shook her head slightly, then sighed as that stubborn lock of auburn hair fell into her face. Her bright blue eyes betrayed her annoyance as she tucked the offending lock behind her ear. Scully sighed and tried to focus on the report in front of her. She was stuck with the paperwork after one of their unusual cases had been finished. Mulder heard, through his weird channels, of a covert paramilitary base in rural Texas that immediately aroused his suspicions. As usual, he assumed that the existence of the base indicated UFO landings and the requisite government cover-up. Scully, on the other hand, interpreted reports of bright lights in the sky to be helicopters. Unfortunately, neither agent had the opportunity to prove his or her theory because by the time they arrived, no evidence remained. They returned home last night, and Scully had decided to put off the paperwork until this morning and catch up on her sleep. Lately, the nightmares about her abduction and subsequent missing period were getting more frequent. Luckily, she managed to strangle her screams before they woke Mulder in the next room. As much as she trusted him, she did not want him to see her weaknesses--she'd already broke down once over the Donnie Pfaster case, and she'd be damned if she was going to lose it again. The door to the basement office swung open slowly, breaking her train of thought. Mulder ducked his head in as Scully pointedly glanced at her watch. "Good morning, Scully," Mulder headed for his desk and plopped into his chair. He ran a hand through his slightly disheveled brown hair as he angled his lanky frame into a more comfortable position at the desk. Scully arched her eyebrow. "This is becoming a habit, you know," Mulder had never seen her give that look to anyone but him. Fortunately, he actually enjoyed the expression on her face when she wanted to kill him. His hazel eyes sparkled as he smirked at her across the office. Scully relented and gave him a small smile as she turned back to her report. Mulder dug out a file and stared at it. He knew she was right--he had been late an awful lot in the past few weeks. He just didn't feel comfortable around her. At Christmas time, Mulder finally agreed to join the Scully family for Christmas Eve at Margaret Scully's house. After dinner, he and Scully washed the dishes and then headed into the living room. Unfortunately, Margaret glanced up as they came through the archway and pointed out the mistletoe above them. A devilish grin crossed Margaret's face, and she wouldn't let them move until they kissed, not that Mulder minded. In fact, he figured kissing Scully would put to rest some of the more, well, more-than-friendly feelings he had been having about his partner. It hadn't worked out that way. At the touch of her lips, as brief as the contact had been, he felt an electric spark throughout his whole body. They had lingered a just a moment longer than strictly necessary. When he straightened up, he thought that Scully looked a little dazed, but then again, that was probably just wishful thinking on his part. He had tried so hard over the three years of their partnership to repress any thoughts of just how beautiful his fiery, red-haired partner was, but now, he kept remembering the feel of her lips at the most inopportune times. Since the Christmas kiss, Mulder had avoided Scully whenever possible, which actually wasn't all that much considering they'd had four cases already, but obviously his chronic lateness had become apparent to his partner. Mulder sighed and roused himself from his musings to get himself coffee. When he returned to their cluttered office, he noticed Scully signing the document in front of her, which he surmised to be the report from their latest case. He crossed to her desk, the only semi-organized space in the whole office, and she handed him the pen. "Thanks for doing the paperwork, Scully. I'll bring it up to Skinner, okay?" Mulder leaned over her desk and signed the report. As he finished, he noticed the date and finally realized that he'd forgotten Scully's birthday. "Scully! It's your birthday! Why didn't you remind me?" Mulder regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth--she didn't remind him because, usually people with photographic memories don't need to be reminded of their partners birthdays! He felt like such a cad. "Yes, it is. And I didn't remind you because its not a big deal, Mulder." Scully answered calmly. Actually, she hadn't mentioned it because she had plans for the evening and she wasn't sure if she wanted Mulder to know about them. She always felt awkward discussing her dates with Mulder, especially since their brief kiss on Christmas Eve. They'd nearly crossed that line that they always balanced precariously on, and she still didn't know if she was relieved or upset that they'd pulled back yet again. With all the uncertainty, not to mention his obvious avoidance of her ever since, she didn't feel the need to discuss her date with him. Scully figured that Mulder, in his usual almost obsessive manner, would forget her birthday. Well, he couldn't actually forget it, but maybe it wouldn't register. "Yes, it is a big deal! Happy Birthday, Dana!" Mulder leaned forward and kissed her lightly on the cheek. "Scully, I didn't buy you a present yet, could I take you out to dinner tonight to celebrate?" Scully, still reeling from his friendly kiss in combination with his use of her first name, took a minute to collect her thoughts. "Oh, Mulder, I'm sorry. I have plans already," she answered, trying her best for a casual tone. She noticed a flicker of emotion in his eyes as he smiled at her, but his expression cleared identify it. "Oooh, a hot date, huh?" Mulder's attempt at levity fell a little flat, but Scully didn't appear to notice. Her cheeks reddened slightly, and she carefully examined her hands resting limply on her desk. He wondered how close to the truth his offhand remark hit. "Something like that," Scully murmured and smiled wanly at him. Mulder's spirits took a dive. He involuntarily compared her half-hearted smile to the gorgeous, full-fledged smile that had greeted him when he had awoken in the Arctic. Somehow, Scully had found him after he ran off chasing down a lead on his sister and saved his life, again. When he finally awoke from his coma, her face positively lit up with that amazing smile of hers, and her blue eyes sparkled with relief. It was at this moment that he realized that their partnership meant just as much to her as it did to him. Mulder suddenly realized that he'd been staring at Scully. He grabbed the report off her desk and headed out the door. "I'll go turn this in," he tossed over his shoulder as he disappeared from her view. Scully slumped down into her chair and rested her forehead on the heel of her hand. With her free hand, she pinched the bridge of her nose and reviewed their conversation in her mind. She wondered if she had injured Mulder's feelings by turning down his invitation. Could that really have been disappointment she had glimpsed in his eyes? Why would it have been when he had women like Dr. Bambi and Detective White falling all over him? Scully sighed and turned her thoughts to her date. A friend of hers from Quantico, Aimee, had fixed Scully up with her brother. After two bland dates, Scully could care less if she ever saw Ryan again, but Scully's abrupt departure for her and Mulder's latest case had forced her to cancel a date with Ryan. He asked her if he could take her out for dinner on her birthday to make up for it, and she, stupidly, agreed. Now, she sighed, wondering if she had made the right decision. Mulder was, after all, her best friend, no matter how awkward things were between them lately. But, she didn't need to suffer through a faux date with Mulder--she had enough on her mind trying to forget the way her body had reacted when she and Mulder had kissed under the mistletoe. She knew she must have looked like an idiot when Mulder pulled away, because she couldn't seem to force her hands to move from his chest. She heard her mother stifle a giggle when she had finally turned away from Mulder. Ever since then, she'd been having some decidedly unpartnerly thoughts about her partner. She figured that Mulder could tell, and that's why he'd been avoiding her lately. When Aimee had suggested a blind date, Scully had resolutely pushed all the confusion about Mulder to the back of her mind and agreed instantly. Ryan was a nice enough guy, but she found herself comparing him to Mulder constantly. She tried to convince herself that it was just a natural reaction considering how much time she and Mulder spent together, but that theory felt rather uncomfortably like a rationalization. Scully even compared the chaste peck that Ryan had given her to Mulder's gentle kiss--the intensity with Ryan was extremely low, not like-- 'Wait, this is MULDER!' she abruptly cut off that train of thought, 'my partner!' ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 23 February 1996 J. Edgar Hoover Building 9:46 am, A.D. Skinner's Office "Sir?" Mulder knocked lightly on Assistant Director Skinner's door, which stood slightly ajar. Mulder detected the odor of cigarette smoke and grimaced. "Yes, Agent Mulder?" Skinner answered, tiredly. He placed a file aside and motioned Mulder to a chair. Skinner was a large, muscular man was a decade or so older than Mulder. Skinner's career with the marines showed in his posture and hard-ass attitude, but he sometimes experienced almost paternal feelings for this, his most frustrating agent. Mulder held Bureau protocol in very low regard, and it often fell on Skinner's shoulders to explain just why Mulder was given such a free reign. Skinner finally chose a side after sitting on the fence between Mulder's obsessive search for the elusive truth, and the dark forces trying to prevent this truth from coming to light. He played hardball with a member of the Consortium, to save Mulder's and Scully's lives, and ended up finally gained some respect from the both of them. Skinner just hoped he wouldn't need to save their asses again in the near future. "The O'Brien report, Sir," Mulder handed the folder to him. Light pouring in from the large windows behind Skinner's desk cast his face in shadows, hiding his expression. "The alleged military sight in Texas." "I am aware of that, Agent Mulder. I have a new case for you and Agent Scully. Three women have been abducted from small towns in New Hampshire and Vermont. Two have been found dead, similar MOs and one is still missing. You and Scully leave in the morning. There's more information in here." Skinner handed Mulder a thick file. He gave it a cursory glance before meeting Skinner's gaze. "Thank you, sir. Could I ask a question? Is this an X-File?" "Agent Mulder, you and Agent Scully were requested, and you two are going, regardless of the nature of the case. Is that understood?" Mulder controlled his urge to question Skinner further, he didn't think the A.D.'s mood was conducive to an interrogation. "Yes, sir," Mulder answered a bit sullenly as he stood up from the chair to leave. He glanced at the end table against the far wall of the office and found what he was looking for--a cigarette butt, and he just knew it was a Morley. 'Ahh, cancerman!' he thought as he left, closing the door behind him with a little more force than necessary. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 23 February 1996 J. Edgar Hoover Building 10:17 am, Basement Office "Scully, we have a new case. Abductions in New England. I hear New England is lovely this time of year," Mulder said dryly as he entered the basement office. He noted that Scully's back stiffened at his words, and wished immediately that he hadn't made light of the situation. Scully looked up from her computer screen and met his gaze. She carefully controlled her facial expression, but she couldn't stop her hand from trembling as she reached for her coffee mug. "When do we leave?" she asked, cutting off his apology before he had fully opened his mouth. He sighed softly--she did not like him to bring up her abduction. "All the info's in here," he placed the file on her desk. "Eight am flight tomorrow. I guess you'll have to cut short your hot date." Mulder tried to make the last comment a jest, but from the expression on her face, he failed. Mulder wondered if he should apologize, but again, Scully made his decision for him. "Look, Mulder, I promised my mother I'd meet her for an early lunch. I'm going to go. I'll see you later, okay?" "Scully, its not even 10:30!" Mulder watched as she strode to the door and grabbed her coat. He realized that she wanted to get away from him. "I'm sorry, Scully," he said quietly. Scully stopped and turned to face him. Her face was composed except for a suspicious glistening in her eyes. "Mulder, its okay, really. I didn't expect you to remember my birthday." Scully deliberately misunderstood his apology. She hated to feel vulnerable, especially in front of Mulder. Mulder watched her leave with a worried look. He hoped that she would be okay with this case. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 23 February 1996 Alexandria, VA 5:48 p.m., apartment of Fox Mulder Mulder sighed as he entered his apartment building. Scully'd returned from lunch in a very distant mood. He tried to give her space, finding an excuse to leave when she picked up the file on the abductions. When he returned, she'd been staring blankly at his "I Want to Believe" poster. When he mentioned the case, her professional mask slipped back into place. "Mulder," she said, "this isn't our usual type of case. Not that our cases can really be described as 'usual.'" Mulder smiled his half smile at her comment and repeated what Skinner had told him, leaving out his suspicions of Cancerman's involvement. Then, Scully had gone home early, leaving Mulder to brood over her reactions to this case. Mulder entered his apartment and looked around. It was, as usual, pretty bare, a true bachelor's pad. He crossed the living room and fed the fish. Mulder grabbed the TV Guide off of the coffee table and started to flop down onto the couch when he realized he still didn't have a birthday gift for Scully. He sighed and dropped the TV Guide, trying to decide which mall he should try first. Mulder grabbed his keys and headed back out the door. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 23 February 1996 La Chandelle Restaurant 8:19 p.m. Scully looked around the elegant restaurant and smiled half-heartedly at Ryan. "This is a beautiful place, Ryan. I can't remember the last time I had to dress up to go to a restaurant. Usually, Mulder and I-- Oh, I'm sorry. I promise not to talk about work tonight." Scully mentally cursed herself--she had done it again. Compared Ryan and Mulder, and this time she'd been on the brink of doing it out loud! She admitted to herself that she'd rather eat at some out-of-the-way diner with Mulder than here with Ryan. She sighed quietly and studied the menu. Ryan reached out and covered Scully's hand with his. She looked up, startled. Ryan's eyes showed his concern, which only worsened Scully's guilty feelings. "Dana? What's wrong? You don't seem yourself." "No, I'm sorry. We're on a difficult case. I'm fine." She forced a smile and pulled her hand away under the pretense of taking a sip of her water. They ate dinner in relative silence, and Scully knew that she blew it, but couldn't seem to care. She kept thinking that it was a special day, and she should be sharing it with the people who were closest to her. This thought had reminded her of Mulder's offer of dinner and, in turn, her rejection. She now wholeheartedly wished she had taken him up on his offer and canceled this farce of a date with Ryan. As odd as her relationship with Mulder was, it was the most important relationship in her life. She would rather spend her evening discussing his bizarre theories or teasing him about his video collection, even if they were never more than just friends. And now, Scully was stuck here with Ryan who had finally noticed that her attentions lay elsewhere. If she left soon, maybe Mulder would come over for coffee and have some of the birthday cake that her mother had brought her at lunch. "Dana, I wanted --" Scully's cellular phone rang, cutting Ryan off midsentence. "I'm sorry. Just a second," Scully apologized, then absently wondered how many times she'd apologized in the past hour. "Scully" "Scully, it's me. They've found the body of the third woman in New Hampshire. I'm sorry to bother you on your birthday, but we have to leave tonight if you want to do the autopsy." "Mulder, I . . ." Scully considered her options and decided that she might as well just call it a night. "Fine, what time is our flight?" "Uh, actually, its in about an hour and ten minutes." "I'm at La Chandelle restaurant on M street in Georgetown, can you pick me up? I'll be outside." Scully pressed the end button, and looked cautiously at Ryan. His face stayed blank, unreadable, and she sighed. She started to explain, but he interrupted her. "Dana, can I be honest with you?" Scully nodded, a little surprised that he didn't wait for an explanation. "I really like you, and you're a wonderful person, but I just don't think this is going to work. Your dedication to your work is admirable, but I can't just sit home and wait for you to be in between cases. I'm sorry." "Ryan," Scully began, unsure of how to proceed, "I . . . you're right, it's not going to work. I'm sorry, too." She mentally added another one to her apology count. Ryan signaled to the waiter and asked for their check while Scully replaced her phone. During the time before Mulder arrived, they fought over who would pay the check. Finally, Scully relented when Ryan suggested that dinner was her birthday present from him. Scully and Ryan stood in silence as they waited for Mulder. Ryan placed an arm around her shoulders to give her a little insulation from the winter air, but he wouldn't meet her eyes. Mulder pulled up to the curb. He took in the man's arm around Scully and felt a knot form in his stomach. The man with Scully was about 5'11", with blond hair and blue eyes, completely All-American. Just the kind of guy Mulder had hated in high school. Scully turned to the man beside her and kissed him on the cheek. Mulder couldn't tear his eyes away, even as the image of her kissing another man seared his heart. She looked more beautiful than he'd ever seen her. Her open coat allowed him glimpses of her dark green dress that complimented her hair and eyes perfectly. She opened the passenger door and slid into the car. "Well, well, well. So you did have a hot date," Mulder tried to cover his discomfort with a joke, but Scully's annoyed look convinced him to drop the subject entirely. "Can we stop by my apartment? I need to change." Scully's voice took on an extremely cool tone, and she spent the car ride staring out the window in silence. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 23 February 1996 Apartment of Dana Scully 9:48 p.m. Scully removed her coat and tossed it on the arm of the couch. Mulder watched breathlessly as she switched the radio on. He had never seen her like this, which was probably a good thing, since he could barely keep his hands off of her. Her dress was fitted to show off her petite figure, with a neckline low enough to be sexy, not tacky. He wanted to tell her how wonderful she looked, but he suspected his voice might betray him. Scully felt Mulder's eyes on her as she walked towards her bedroom. She figured he must think she looked silly if the slightly pained look on his face offered any indication. She sighed and closed her bedroom door a little harder than necessary. Changing quickly into a casual suit, Scully grabbed her shoes to put on in the living room. Luckily, her suitcase was already packed and waiting by the door. As she re-entered the living room, she heard one of her favorite Indigo Girls song starting. She smiled and turned up the volume, then plopped down on the couch to put her shoes on. "Scully, you looked really beautiful in that dress." There, he'd said it, and his voice stayed neutral, almost monotone. Scully looked up at him in surprise, but he'd suddenly found his shoes fascinating. "Thank you," Mulder could hear the surprise in her voice and wondered if she honestly didn't know how beautiful she was. Mulder decided to concentrate on the music to keep his mind from wandering down that dangerous path. He became more and more interested as he focused his attention on the words. A sardonic smile flitted across Mulder's face as he realized how well he could relate to that. He started to listen more carefully, and he sympathized all too well with the next verse. Mulder experienced his share of erotic dreams about Scully since they had kissed under the mistletoe. Okay, so he'd always had them, but they'd intensified since the touch of her full lips on Christmas Eve. He became so engrossed in the song that he didn't notice Scully staring at him, amazed. He blanched visibly as he heard that lyric. Love? He knew he loved Scully in the way that friends love each other, but was he in love with her? He thought back to when she was missing, and how everyone had given her up for dead. Mulder hadn't, mostly because he couldn't--if she was dead, than a large part of him was dead, too. He had walked around in a "very dark place", according to Scully's sister, Melissa, and hadn't snapped out of it until Scully woke up. He realized as he heard her voice for the first time in months how important she was to him. But, love? He pondered it as the song continued. Mulder smirked as he considered the implications of that line. Scully watched the emotions flitting across his face, intrigued. She figured out that he was lost in the song when she noticed him tapping his finger along with he beat. She listened to the words to try to discover what had captured his attention. Scully's good mood dissipated as she realized that Mulder was probably daydreaming about Dr. Bambi or Detective White or any one of those tall, long-legged model-types who always lusted after him. A wave of jealousy caught her by surprise, but she tamped it down. Scully didn't want to think of Mulder as more than her partner, but sometimes, like now, she just couldn't help it. The chemistry between them was so strong, she felt powerless against it. Mulder's stomach churned as he pondered the validity of that last sentiment. Scully certainly qualified as his Achilles heel--They could take her again and effectively end his search for the elusive Truth. He didn't care enough about anything else, except his sister, who They already had. Mulder wished he could lock Scully in her apartment and not let her risk herself for his quest, but he also knew that the search had become hers as well. He sighed and tuned back into the song. Both Mulder and Scully grew somber as that last line hit them. Although Scully already knew she had to hold her tongue about any feelings she may or may not have about Mulder, she didn't enjoy being reminded. Mulder, on the other hand, had only just realized that he couldn't realistically tell Scully--no way did she feel the same. She would either laugh or request a transfer, and he didn't think he could handle either reaction. Before, he'd been able to rationalize everything, the dreams, the jealousy as natural when a man and a woman, provided they were heterosexual, worked so closely together. But now, he admitted to himself that he wasn't reacting to the situation, he was reacting to Dana Katherine Scully, and that scared the hell out of him. He started as he noticed the woman in question curious gazing at him curiously. "Oh, are you ready?" He tried, but he couldn't quite keep the irritation out of his voice. "Yeah. Mulder, what was so interesting about that song?" The rational side of Scully wanted him to say it reminded her of some woman so she could regain her precious control. If she knew for sure that the attraction was one-sided, she could shove her unprofessional feelings back into the recesses of her mind. But another, bigger part of her just wanted him to kiss her Mulder met her gaze before he answered, but she couldn't decipher the look in his eyes. "That's not my usual type of music so I was giving it a chance," Mulder stood up and headed for the door to grab her suitcase. "I didn't like it." Scully watched him storm out of the apartment and tried to figure out what his problem was. She had seen him smile twice during the song, but now he was stomping around like a five-year old having a temper tantrum. She sighed and stood up. She could never understand how his mind worked, so she decided not to bother trying. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ From winema@aol.com Thu Oct 17 06:03:57 1996 See intro for disclaimer/summary Bitter Pill Danielle Dupre' 24 February 1996 Manchester International Airport, New Hampshire 1:38 am "Mulder, I'm tired, can you please hurry up?" Mulder's mood had not improved on the plane, and Scully was not a happy person. He'd crossed his arms and drifted off to sleep easily, leaving her bored, not to mention trapped in the window seat for the whole flight. Scully was tired, cranky, and wanted to fall into bed as soon as possible. Mulder nodded and grabbed his suitcase, heading for the rental car. He made a mental bet with himself that, as usual, they would end up with a blue Ford Taurus. As he searched for the car, he noticed Scully lagging behind. "Hey, Scully, you're the one who wanted to hurry up, come on!" "Mulder, don't start," she retorted angrily. "You slept on the plane, and I didn't. It's almost two o'clock in the morning, and I'm freezing." Mulder grinned and chose to ignore her comments, and they finally reached the blue Ford Taurus. He silently congratulated himself on winning the bet, then decided he really needed to get a life if he found mental bets amusing. Scully drifted off after failing to come up with a conversation opener. They reached the Lock Hotel in Manchester, a small, family-owned hotel slightly nicer than the dumps Mulder usually chose. He left Scully, who was dozing, in the car and ran inside to get their keys. He made sure that they were adjoining rooms before venturing back out into the cold. The icy air slicing through the car woke Scully, and they hurried in to warm back up. "God, it must be below zero out there!" Scully exclaimed, irritated that the lovely drowsiness she had cultivated on the drive disappeared in the frosty night air. "Uh, Scully. I hate to point out the obvious, but we are in New England in the middle of February." His lips curved into the half-smile she found so alluring. Scully arched an eyebrow at him and struggled with the lock on her door. "Hey, Scully, do you want your birthday present now or later? I know it's technically not your birthday anymore, but we haven't gone to bed yet, so . . . " Scully's face lit up and she motioned him into her room. "Mulder, you didn't have to get me anything!" The tone of her voice contradicted the discouraging words. She was surprised that he had bothered to buy her a gift. Mulder merely smiled and pulled a card and box out of his carry-on bag. The rather small box had been wrapped in Marvin the Martian paper. Scully's lips curved as she imagined Mulder picking out the paper. She opened the card first and found a beautiful picture of a sunset. On the blank inside, Mulder had written "Thanks for keeping me in line. Happy birthday, and lots more (remember, Clyde said you're not going to die!) Love, Mulder." "Thank you, Mulder." She smiled and carefully began to unwrap his present. Mulder had to restrain himself from reaching out and tearing the paper off. Finally, she opened the actual box to reveal a picture of the two of them that had been taken at Christmas time at her mother's house. The silver frame was engraved with the words "Something to Trust, Always." Scully felt the tears burning her eyes as she read what he had had inscribed. Her face softened into her full smile, and Mulder struggled to control the urge to kiss her smiling lips. "Mulder, I don't know what to say. This is beautiful, I love it." She crossed the room to where he stood and hugged him, hard. Usually, she did not initiate physical contact, but his thoughtfulness so moved her that she threw her usual reticence aside. Mulder returned the hug fiercely. They drew apart reluctantly and he laughed aloud at the yawn that Scully tried to suppress. "Oh, I get the hint. Time for me to go, huh?" Mulder inquired dryly. "I'm sorry, Mulder. I really love my present, but I need to go to bed." "Need any help?" Scully grinned at him and escorted him to the door. "In your dreams, Mulder." "True," he mumbled as he exited her room. At Scully's quizzical look, he bade her goodnight. "I'm glad you like it, Scully. I'll see you in the morning." Mulder briefly squeezed her hand, then turned and left. Scully closed and locked the door behind him, leaned back against it, and sighed. Mulder's engraved words touched her deeper than she ever could have imagined. She realized it was hard for him for let people into his heart, but he had allowed her in. She'd always known in her head that Mulder felt their bond as deeply as she, but after his acknowledgment, she could feel it in her heart. Scully slid in between the covers gratefully, convinced that her exhaustion would allow her to fall into a dreamless sleep. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 24 February 1996 Richardson Police Station, New Hampshire 11:53 am Mulder checked the clock on the wall for the ninth time in the past half hour. He couldn't help wondering what delayed Scully. She'd gone straight to the morgue to do the autopsy, promising to head over to the local police station after she finished to meet the officers he'd spent the morning working with. However, she was nowhere to be seen and he started to worry. "Agent Mulder? We just got a fax of the autopsy report. Would you like to see it?" Officer Rodney Burke was a nice enough man, but the FBI agent awed him. In a small town like Richardson, the cops usually only had to deal with domestic disturbances and hunting licenses. Mulder impressed Burke right away with his impeccable suit and cool demeanor. He tried his hardest to prove his worth to the agent. Burke noticed Mulder's furrowed brow and wondered if he'd made a mistake. "Or, it could wait . . ." "No, I'd like to see it. Thanks, Burke." Mulder took the proffered papers and settled in a chair to read them. He scanned the basic information quickly and slowed down when he got to the actual autopsy report: "Caucasian female, aged 34, died of gunshot wound to the chest from a high-caliber weapon. The bullet punctured the left lung and ripped the pulmonary vein, resulting in severe blood loss. The autopsy revealed that subject had undergone several operations to her abdomen recently. The stage of the formation of scar tissue suggests that these operations occurred within the last six to twelve weeks, which coincides with the time she was missing. Also, there was a tiny metal chip imbedded in the soft tissue of the back neck that could prove to be a computer chip. I sent it to the FBI laboratory for further testing." Mulder stopped reading abruptly and dialed Scully's cellular phone. "Come on, pick up, damn it!" After several rings, she answered. "Scully, it's me. Where are you?" "Mulder, I'm at the hotel. I'm still a little tired from our flight, so I thought I'd come take a nap." Her voice sounded a little shaky. "I saw your report. Did she have the same implant as you?" Mulder didn't like to be so blunt, but he knew Scully would never volunteer the information on her own. She paused for a moment, and he wondered it she'd would hang up on him. "No, I don't think it's exactly the same, but it is similar. I'll know more when Agent Pendrell gets back to me. He examined my chip a few months ago." She sounded worn out. "Scully, stay at the hotel, I'll be there in a few minutes and we can go eat lunch, okay?" His mind raced as he waited for her reply. The last thing she needed was a reminder of her abduction. "I'm not hungry," she answered flatly. "Scully, you have to eat something. I'll bet you didn't even eat breakfast." "Mulder, I'm a doctor, don't even try it. I ate breakfast. I'm not hungry now, so I'm not eating lunch." He knew from the tone of her voice that it would be pointless to argue. Once Scully made up her mind, it was nearly impossible to make her change it. He wished, not for the first time, that she wasn't so damn stubborn. "Okay, okay. I'll be there in a few minutes." "I'm fine, Mulder." He wondered how many times he had heard that from her and how many times it had been a lie. "You don't need to baby-sit me. Go have lunch." "I'll get room service. Bye, Scully," He hung up before she could argue further. Mulder grabbed his coat and gave a terse good-bye to the officers on his way out the door. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 24 February 1996 Lock Hotel, Manchester, New Hampshire 12:19 Scully heard the footsteps approaching and knew without a doubt that it was Mulder. Their indescribable bond included an almost psychic awareness of the other person's location, increasing as the distance between them decreased. It could be overwhelming at times, especially when Mulder touched her the way he liked to do. Little touches, discrete and almost gentlemanly in manner, that contrasted sharply with his innuendoes and double entendres. He was just one big contradiction, and Scully constantly tried to figure him out. On the one hand, he treated her as an equal without question, which was a little unusual in the old boys' network of the Bureau. And then he would become overprotective when he thought she might be in danger. It irritated her to no end, because she often felt he felt she was a surrogate Samantha, not to mention the fact that she was more than capable of taking care of herself. But, a tiny part of her loved him even more for his contradictions. Unfortunately, Scully had a nagging feeling that he was going to start acting overprotective She sighed and considered her options. She really did not want to discuss this development with anyone, especially Mulder. The last time she had expressed her insecurities about the implant, he had basically told her not to worry about it. She'd come rushing into the office still shaking from her eerie meeting with the women from MUFON and Mulder'd told her not to worry about it without more information, then changed the subject. She knew that he'd probably been trying to keep her from making too much of it, but still hurt. Scully ran a hand through her hair and rose to answer the door. Mulder stood in the hallway with an unsure expression on his face. He looked a little scared, and she wondered why. He smiled tightly at her and entered at her invitation. "Mulder, I told you I'm fine. I'm just waiting for the results from Agent Pendrell, then, if need be, I'll go check the other two bodies for the implants. I'm sure it's nothing to worry about." She sank onto the bed and waited for his response. "Scully, did it look the same?" He felt inordinately proud that his voice did not shake at all when he spoke. "Mulder, these implants are just microchips. I can't tell if they're the same, that's why I sent them to headquarters." Her voice sounded tired, and she desperately wanted to take a nap. "Mulder, I'm exhausted. Why don't you go get some lunch, and wake me up around two." "I'll just get room service and stay here." Mulder didn't want her to shut him out, not now. If these women's abductions were in any way related to Scully's, maybe they could find the bastards that took her. He knew that the stress was already getting to him, so it must be affecting her also. He glanced at her and noticed the irritated look on her face. "Mulder, you are NOT going to sit here and watch me sleep! If you want to get room service in YOUR room, go right ahead! I'm going to sleep." Scully's eyes iced over as she glared at him. Mulder wavered for a moment, then decided to agree and stay in the other room. He nodded his assent, then rose to go. "Good night, Scully. Sweet dreams," he mumbled as he headed for the connecting door. She didn't answer, and when he turned around, her eyes were already closed. He resisted the urge to go back and cover her, figuring she'd kill him if she woke up to find him hovering. Mulder sat on the edge of his bed and tried to make sense of the case. Three women had been abducted from small towns within a 100 mile radius. They had all been killed by a single gunshot wound to the chest. The ballistics report comparing the bullets was not in yet, since authorities had only realized the possible connection three days ago. He opened the folders around him and reread the background information on all three of the women: Christi Draper, 34, a pediatrician, divorced, no children; Tiffany Devon, 31, owned her own consulting firm, single, no children; Nicole Ivins, 33, a traffic engineer, single, no children. All three were career women, with no children and no husband. There was no way to determine how long they'd been missing before anyone was concerned enough to call the police. All three had turned up two months later, dead, in the woods near their towns. And all three women had scars from incisions on their abdomens, which indicated that they'd undergone similar operations . . . or tests. Mulder uncomfortably recalled the cigarette he had noticed in Skinner's office and wondered if there was a reason they were assigned this case. Maybe They were going to take Scully again--no, he corrected himself, TRY to take her. He would never let them, not again. Or, maybe this was a reminder of what They could do. Maybe They were trying to scare Mulder and Scully enough to force them to back off of the X-Files. Mulder sighed and ran a frustrated hand through his hair. Damn it! As a psychologist, he should be able to figure this out. He let his eyes wander over the busy bedspread and drab beige walls. He vaguely heard a sound from the next room, but he was concentrating too hard to pay attention. Then, he heard a scream. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 24 February 1996 Lock Hotel, Scully's room 1:02 p.m. They were chasing her. Duane Barry held bloody rope to tie her hands, and Donnie Pfaster clutched a shampoo bottle in his claws. And they both chased her. Then, a bright light--outlines of men in white coats. Pain. Her abdomen was on fire. Then, Pfaster held the shampoo over her stomach, about to pour. She tried to scream, but no sound came out. Duane Barry's face loomed over her, and she found her voice. She thrashed, trying to get away. Hands held her, now, trying to keep her still, and she fought hard to free herself. Slowly, Mulder's voice seeped through her panic, and she stilled her movements. Her eyes opened slowly, fearing that she was being tricked by the men, but Mulder was really here. She took in her surroundings, and it all came back. New Hampshire. The abductions. The implant. "Scully . . . shhh . . . it's okay . . . I'm here. Scully?" Mulder's murmurs broke off when her blue eyes focused on his face. Her face seemed paler than usual, and he noticed that she had dark circles under her eyes. Her hands grasped his biceps, and his arms wrapped around her, holding her close. "Mulder, I . . ." she faltered, trying to come up with something to say. "It was just a bad dream. I'm sorry I disturbed you." "Scully, it must have been pretty bad. Do you want to tell me about it?" His voice stayed so soft and low, she nearly drowned in its husky tone. "No, it was just the usual--" Scully cut herself off, but not before she realized her mistake. Now he would never leave it alone. "Scully? What do you mean? Do you have these nightmares often?" Scully couldn't lie to him, not after the words he'd engraved on the gorgeous picture frame. Her eyes shifted to the image of the two of them resting on the nightstand, and she knew she would tell him all of it. "Mulder, I didn't want you to worry about me, so I decided to handle this on my own." He opened his mouth to speak, but she cut him off. "I'm sorry. I know I should have told you." Mulder waited a moment, then spoke. "Will you tell me now?" Gorgeous blue eyes met determined hazel ones, and she gave him that tiny smile, the one that drove him crazy. "Yes. Should I pay by the hour?" His lips quirked upwards, but he didn't speak. "Well, I've been having nightmares, obviously," She began. "They started after my . . . after I woke up. But they only happened occasionally. After I met those MUFON women, they became more frequent. The dreams are always the same, and I wake up screaming. It seems like, I don't know, like they're only partly dreams." Scully stared at the patterns her hands traced on the bedspread. Finally, she looked up and met his gaze. At Mulder's quizzical look, she continued. "The dream starts out with me running. I know I'm being chased, but I can't see who's chasing me. Then, I'll look over my shoulder and see it's Duane Barry and Donnie Pfaster. Barry's holding the twine he used to tie my hands and Pfaster's got shampoo." Her voice cracked on the last word, and Mulder covered her hands with his. She squeezed her thanks. "Then, I'm on a metal table, and there's bright light, and I can tell there are figures standing over me, but the light's too strong, and I can't see who they are. I feel pain. A lot of pain, in my abdomen, and it's not like a dream. It seems as if it's actually happening, the whole situation. But then, Pfaster and Barry show up leaning over me and that's when I wake up. It just doesn't make sense." Mulder forced himself to take a deep, calming breath before he spoke. He couldn't stand to see her in pain, especially pain that he should have been able to prevent. It sounded to him like repressed memories asserting themselves in her nightmares. Instead of answering right away, he drew her into a hug. Scully's hands flew up around his neck and she snuggled into his shoulder, savoring the closeness. Mulder stroked her back, soothing her without words. He was so glad that she felt comfortable confiding in him. Mulder often grew tired of Scully's fierce independence--he wished she would let people help her from time to time. "Scully, I'm so sorry that I didn't get there in time to stop Barry. I--" "Mulder," she interrupted. "I didn't tell you this to add to your guilt complex! I just don't want to lie to you anymore. Please don't apologize for something that you had no part in." Her words freed him as they always did, and they spent the next hour discussing their respective nightmares. It was cathartic, but Scully grew quiet after a while. She gazed at the oddly textured wall opposite her and let her thoughts drift. As relieved as Scully was that she no longer had to bear this burden alone, she felt sure that things would get much worse before they got better. She allowed herself a slight chuckle when she considered what Mulder would think of her premonition. He opened his mouth to question her on her laughter, but the shrill ring of the phone cut him off. "Mulder." Scully watched him as he spoke. She didn't pay much attention, since she could only hear his end of the conversation. After hanging up, he turned to her with a grim expression. "Scully, there's another woman missing. Feel like going to Vermont?" ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 24 February 1996 Interstate 89, Vermont 7:56 p.m. "So, what's the name of this town again?" Scully questioned. "It's Northfield, I think. Real small. We should be there relatively soon." He stretched his long legs in front of him. They'd just stopped for dinner, and he was warm and full and just wanted to sleep. Luckily, it was Scully's turn to drive. He felt a lot better since Scully confided in him. Mulder allowed his mind to wander as he drifted between sleep and wakefulness. Suddenly, the trill of a cell phone snapped him back to consciousness. "Yours or mine?" he asked, his voice gravely. "Uh, mine I think." She wrestled with her jacket pocket, keeping one hand on the wheel, until she freed the phone. She punched the Talk button. "Scully." "Hello, Agent Scully. This is Agent Pendrell. I have the results on the computer chip that you sent me. I faxed them to the police station in Richardson, but I figured that you'd want a personal report, too." "Yes, thank you." Mulder straightened up. "I ran basically the same tests on this microchip as I did with the one you brought me before. It is slightly different, but the differences seem consistent with an upgraded version of the same model. It's actually slightly smaller than the original. This microchip also stores information and could artificially replicate the memory function of the brain. Again, my tests effectively destroyed it, so I can't investigate further. But I checked, and the manufacturer's name on this chip is the same as that of the first one." "So, you think that there is definitely a connection between the two?" Mulder's head snapped up and he tried to read her expression. "Yes, I believe so. That was all the information I was able to gather." "Thank you, Agent Pendrell." Her voice wavered a tiny bit. "Anytime, Agent Scully." Mulder contained his questions while she pressed the end button and placed the cell phone on the seat beside her. She slowly ran a hand through her hair and then glanced at him. "Agent Pendrell ran the same tests on Draper's chip as he did on the chip I found in my neck. He seems to think that it is an upgraded version of mine. Same manufacturer, same function." She deliberately kept her voice light, but she could feel Mulder's worry growing in leaps and bounds. "Mulder, let's not jump to conclusions yet. Go back to sleep." "Scully, I'm wide awake now," Mulder answered flatly. So much for his good mood. He decided that she would process this information in her own time. More than likely, she wouldn't talk to him about until she was damn good and ready. Mulder dug out the case file and started to read it over. "Mulder, could you read it out loud?" "Sure. Shalini Meda, aged 33. She's a writer, lives in Northfield to get away from it all. The last contact with her was over a month ago. Apparently, she keeps to herself, and no one noticed her disappearance until the papergirl complained to her mother about the futility of delivering a paper to someone who leaves them all outside. The girl's mother called the police, who can find no trace of her. They found papers dating from January 27th on her porch and called the Richardson police this morning." "So, we don't even know if this woman is missing. She could be visiting friends or family, she could have moved suddenly without canceling her subscription, she could even be in a hospital somewhere. Why are we driving all the way up here?" Scully's tone of her voice conveyed exasperation. "Because, Scully, we are going to find out if she moved, or is away, or if she's been abducted. Plus, I have a feeling that this is connected." Mulder used his best 'spooky' voice to try and coax a smile out of her. Scully didn't notice, as she was preoccupied with trying to ignore the foreboding she felt on the way to Northfield. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ From winema@aol.com Thu Oct 17 06:05:21 1996 Have I mentioned that I hate AOL? Here's part 3A, since all of part 3 doesn't want to fit. See intro for disclaimer/summary Bitter Pill Danielle Dupre' 24 February 1996 Casey' Bed and Breakfast, Northfield, Vermont 9:13 p.m. "Damn, the only thing left on TV tonight is 'Sisters!' Scully, they don't even have cable!" He threw the remote on the bed in disgust and flopped into the armchair. "Mulder, I don't think that the Playboy channel would be a wise choice tonight, since we are sharing a room." Scully's sardonic tone warmed him. At least she felt good enough to make fun of him--unfortunately, the innuendoes he wanted to make suddenly weren't so funny. Not when he had to share a room with her tonight. Mulder chose to simply grin at her. She rolled her eyes and headed for the bathroom to change. Mulder spent the next few minutes obsessing about what exactly Scully would wear to bed. Scully, on the other hand, experienced a sudden attack of nerves about sharing the room with her desirable partner. Granted, the room had two beds, but her attraction to him was so strong. She stuck out her tongue at herself in the mirror and thought 'I know how strong the chemistry is for *me,* but to him I'm just a surrogate Samantha.' With that depressing thought, she tugged at her silk pajamas, trying to coax the bottoms to reach her mid-thigh, and wrenched the door open. Mulder tried desperately to keep his mouth from hanging open when she emerged in emerald green silk pajamas. Pajamas that revealed an alarming amount of her shapely legs. He swallowed hard and searched for a flip remark to hide his discomfort. Scully beat him to the punch. "Good-night, Mulder," she tossed over her shoulder and yanked the covers aside. She slipped into her bed, facing away from him. Mulder idly wondered what happened to make her so irritated. Probably something he did, as usual. He pushed himself off the bed and reached for his duffel bag. When Mulder reached the bathroom, he realized that he hadn't brought anything to sleep in--he usually just slept in his boxers. He cursed inwardly and decided that he'd just have to wake up first. Mulder opened the door a little and peered around it, making sure she was still facing away. He padded toward the bed, getting within three feet of safety before Scully flipped over suddenly. Scully knew her face had flushed a deep red. Mulder stood there, staring at her, in boxer shorts. Boxer shorts with little spaceships all over them. She almost laughed at the print--apparently his boxer collection rivaled his atrocious ties--but then her eyes traveled to his chest and arms. Suddenly, it wasn't funny. She tore her eyes away and reached for the light. "I was just going to turn the light off," Scully mumbled to cover her embarrassment. She was acutely aware of the lack of clothing on both of their parts, but chose to ignore and bury her head in the pillow. She heard Mulder climb into his bed and settle in. They both lay in silence for a long, long time before sleep came. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 24 February 1996 A Smoky Room, Washington, DC 8:56 p.m. The man remained highly agitated. His plan wasn't working. He'd underestimated Dana Scully, and now his carefully orchestrated plan was failing. He picked up the phone slowly, almost regretfully. He punched in the familiar numbers and waited for the voice. "It's me. Plan A isn't working, implement Plan B." He paused, his face creased with irritation as he listened to the person on the other end of the line. "Just kill her." He slammed the phone down and sighed. After a moment, he slowly brought a cigarette to his mouth and lit it. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 25 February 1996 Casey's Bed and Breakfast 7:46 am Scully came awake slowly, the bright sunlight creeping through her dream. Amazingly enough, she made it through the night without her nightmare. However, the feeling of dread that plagued her since their arrival in Northfield intensified in the pit of her stomach. Scully sighed and rolled over to find Mulder's bed empty. After stretching her muscles luxuriously, she made it to her feet and headed for the bathroom. She found a note on the mirror: Scully, I'm going running to get the lay of the town. I should be back by 9 or so. --Mulder Scully tore it down and threw it away. She showered and dressed quickly, wanting to beat him to breakfast. She couldn't keep her mind off of her lanky partner clad in those ridiculous boxer shorts long enough to notice a woman watching Scully intently as she entered the large gathering room of the Bed and Breakfast. She chose a seat at one of the many dark wooden tables and studied the menu. "Excuse me," Scully looked up to find a petite Asian woman standing at her table. The woman wore a flowing black dress, and her hair fell straight to her shoulders. She smiled as she returned Scully's gaze. "I was just wondering what your name is." Scully smiled and answered, "Dana Scully. And you are?" As the woman moved to shake Scully's hand, she noticed a sparkling crystal pendant hung on a silken rope around the woman's neck. Grief sliced through her for a brief moment: This woman's mannerisms and attire reminded Scully so much of Melissa. Scully waved the woman into the seat across from her. "My name is Casey Pao." She slid gracefully into the proffered chair and watched as Scully's eyebrow raised a notch. "As in Casey's Bed and Breakfast Casey?" At Casey's nod, Scully continued. "I love this place, Ms. Pao." "Please, call me Casey." "Okay, Casey. And you call me Dana." She smiled again and placed the menu on the table. She wondered briefly why Casey had approached her. "Dana, can you do me a favor?" Casey's interest in this woman grew--she had a powerful aura that intensified the closer Casey got to her. Dana's aura swirled with vivid tan and green. "Sure, what is it?" Scully asked, puzzled. "Can I read your cards?" Scully's eyebrows nearly hit her hairline as she struggled not to smile. No wonder Casey reminded her of Melissa, both women took an interest in that new age stuff. She pondered it briefly, and decided that it wouldn't hurt her to humor Casey. "Okay. What do I need to do?" Casey reached into her deep pockets and gracefully produced a deck of tarot cards. She handed them to Scully and instructed her to concentrate on a question about her future as she shuffled. When Scully placed the shuffled deck on the table, Casey told her to close her eyes and cut the deck. Casey could feel the doubt radiating off of this woman, but remained intrigued by the strength of Dana's aura. Casey felt it as soon as Scully entered the room. Scully tamped down her disbelief and reached out her hand to cut the deck. Scully looked on while Casey arranged the cards in a cross with another four cards in a line to the right. Scully studied the names of the cards--The Empress, the Tower, The Knight of Wands--but they meant nothing to her. She glanced up at Casey uncertainly. "So, what do they say?" Scully's tone sounded a little tenser than she expected. "Let's see. Your significator is The Empress, a very powerful feminine sign. I sensed this next part from your aura--The Empress has natural instincts and active involvement, very in tune with the natural world. She is able to accomplish seemingly impossible tasks. Your immediate influence is The Two of Swords, a card that signifies two emotions or two people who have called a truce, but the undercurrent of passion is still present." Casey noticed Scully's face registered her shock and she smiled a bit to herself. "Your destiny card is the Ten of Cups, which predicts emotional completion and peace of mind--a good life. The next two cards are related: Your distant and recent past. The Moon indicates dreams of a foreboding nature and hidden changes. It can sometimes mean the development of psychic abilities" Casey watched Scully's eyebrow arch in her patented skeptical look. "The Ace of Swords depicts a new outlook after mental anguish. A traumatic event has changed your outlook somehow." Scully's face went suspiciously blank, and Casey knew that she hit a sore spot. She glanced back down at the cards and paused, unsure how to proceed. "The next card is your future influence--it shows the sphere of influence that will come into being. The Tower is not a good card--the figures depicted are falling, no longer in control of their circumstances. Unseen forces are at work, awesome powers that could bring disaster or change." She rushed on. "But your present position is The Page of Swords, a person of sharp insights. It indicates that a situation you will be in will require the subtle use of your mental abilities. The next card represents the influence that you have on others and the tendencies that exist with respect to them: The Two of Pentacles describes a harmonious partnership--one with an unusual energy flow--you count on each other. The Knight of Wands is in your inner emotions spot. This spot reveals your innermost emotions and desires. The Knight of Wands represents an impetuous person, sometimes unpredictable, and very sensual." Casey watched Scully's cheeks redden. She didn't have to be psychic to figure out who Scully's Knight was--she'd met Mulder that morning, and his bright Magenta aura certainly fir this description. Casey wondered briefly just how close these two were. "And the last card is the final result, the result of the influences and events shown by the other cards. The Sun is a very powerful card. This signifies obstacles surmounted, accomplishments possible through love, opposites in harmony. All in all, a positive reading, but you should be very careful in the near future, that Tower card worries me." "Well, that's certainly interesting. Thank you." Scully wasn't sure of the proper protocol for this situation. She didn't like Casey's reading, some of it hit a little close to home. And what was that about unseen forces causing disaster? That didn't bode well, especially when coupled with the knot in her stomach. She reminded herself that the whole point of prognostication was to give information general enough to be applied to something in the person's life. Scully realized she must be picking situations from her life to fit the reading. But, she genuinely liked Casey, so she tried her best to hide her skepticism and her fears. "No, thank you," Casey answered softly. "You have the most interesting aura." She almost laughed at the look on Scully's face. Casey realized that Scully was trying to convince herself that any similarities between her lift and the reading were coincidences. Casey almost repeated her warning to be careful, but, she had a feeling Scully wouldn't appreciate it. Suddenly, Casey felt a malevolent presence. She turned to survey the small dining area, but there were no other customers. Casey gathered her cards quickly and excused herself, heading for the front desk. As she reached the doorway, Scully cried out behind her. Casey whirled and saw a man wearing worn jeans and a seventies style brown leather jacket hoisting Scully's unconscious form over his shoulder. "Hey, what the hell do you think you're doing?" Casey realized too late that the man had used the butt of a gun to knock Scully out. She saw the muzzle swing toward her in slow motion, and then she felt a searing pain in her abdomen. She sent up a quick prayer to the Goddess to watch over Dana and herself as she slumped to the floor, bleeding. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 25 February 1996 Casey's Bed and Breakfast 9:01 am Mulder slowed to a walk as he reached the driveway of the Bed and Breakfast. He really overdid it this morning--an hour and fifteen minutes of running. Mulder had wandered further away from the bed and breakfast than he meant to. He could tell his muscles would be protesting the next morning. Mulder ran a hand over his face to wipe off the excess sweat and reached for the door handle. The door burst open and Mulder jumped back, narrowly avoiding the heavy wooden door and throwing himself off balance. As he waved his arms wildly to regain his balance, an older woman bolted through the door, her brown eyes wild. She brushed by him, and Mulder lost the fight with gravity, sprawling on his back on the sharp gravel of the walkway. Mulder forced his protesting muscles to pull himself up and followed the distraught woman. She hadn't gone far, stopping to throw up in the thick bushes lining the driveway. Mulder spoke softly so as not to startle the distraught woman. "Ma'am, is there something wrong?" The woman turned to him, her grey hair hanging limply around her face. Her pupils were dilated and Mulder could tell she didn't really see him. She spoke too quickly for him to understand much, "Ohmygod, ohmygod, theblood, ohmygod." Mulder felt his heartbeat accelerate. Had she just said something about blood? "Ma'am, you're going to have to calm down. Tell me what's wrong." Mulder placed a tentative hand on the woman's shoulder, hoping his touch would bring her back from wherever her mind had escaped to. Finally, her eyes focused on him. She took a deep breath and spoke quickly, "I heard a noise and I came downstairs and she was just laying there and there was so much blood--" Mulder took off at a run. Horrible thoughts raced through his mind and he pictured Scully's dead body awaiting him inside. When he entered the front door, he heard a moan from behind the large registration desk. He paused, mentally preparing himself for the sight of Scully in a puddle of her own blood. Mulder's stomach heaved when he noticed a trail of blood leading from the archway to behind the desk. Heart pounding, he raced around the desk. Casey lay holding one hand over her bleeding stomach, desperately reaching for the phone with her free hand. Mulder felt guilty for the relief that flooded him when he had confirmation that it wasn't Scully bleeding to death on the floor. "Casey! What happened?" Mulder questioned as he grabbed the phone off of its cradle. "Shot me," she mumbled. "Took Dana." Mulder froze. In his shock, he didn't hear the 911 operator's question. "This is Federal Agent Fox Mulder. I need an ambulance to Casey's Bed and Breakfast on Williams Street. Gunshot wound to the abdomen. I need police out here, there's a possible kidnapping." He slammed the phone down and crouched next to Casey. "I know it hurts, but the ambulance will be here soon. You have to let me see the wound." Mulder was torn between telling Casey not to try to talk and bombarding her with questions. Took Dana? Who? How long ago? He tried to busy his mind by tending to her wound. Mulder shrugged out of his jacked and draped it over her, putting pressure on the entry and exit wounds. Fortunately, Casey chose to explain what had happened, "A man . . . evil aura . . . in brown leather jacket . . . white; brown hair . . . knocked her out . . . I yelled at him . . . had a gun . . . " she was gasping for breath, and Mulder was sure she'd lost too much blood. "So sorry . . . cards said . . . should have known." Mulder tried desperately to figure out what she was talking. Casey saw the fear in his eyes and tried to clarify. "Her reading . . . future was Tower . . . unseen forces and disaster . . . but, result was Sun . . . happiness . . . has to go through this alone . . . warned her." Mulder started to get the picture, but he didn't like what he was hearing. He knew enough about Tarot to know that the Tower card was not a good sign. "Casey, don't try to talk anymore, okay? Just nod. Would you recognize the man if you saw him again?" Casey nodded and he felt the tiniest bit better. Mulder heard the sirens in the distance and he smiled down at her. "Thank you, Casey. Hold on, they're almost here." Fifteen minutes later, Casey was well on her way to the hospital in Montpelier, and there was an APB out on Scully and a white male with brown hair wearing a brown leather jacket. Mulder tried to piece together what happened, but he had very little to go on. Not to mention that the only witness would be in surgery for several hours. He stood in the middle of the dining room, staring at Scully's half-finished mug of coffee and trying to hold himself together. Every time he closed his eyes, the remembered image of Scully laying comatose under a thin hospital blanket and hooked up to countless machines and monitors assaulted his brain Every time he closed his eyes, the remembered image of Scully laying comatose under a thin hospital blanket and hooked up to countless machines and monitors assaulted his brain. Only, this time, he was sure They wouldn't make the same mistake of returning her alive. Mulder cut off that thought abruptly--she wasn't dead yet? He'd know it if she died. Plus, if the man who'd taker her had really wanted to kill her, she'd be laying there dead on her breakfast. A nagging little voice pointed out that they could easily kill Scully and make it look like she fell victim to the serial killer they'd been investigating. Mulder tried to push that though aside and concentrate, but the idea of her helpless and unconscious at the hands of Them made him physically ill. He decided that he would wait until noon before he would notify Margaret Scully, but he had to call Skinner right away. Mulder sighed and dialed the familiar number on his cell phone. "Assistant Director Skinner's office." "Kimberly, it's Mulder. I need to speak with AD Skinner right away. It's important." She must have heard the note of panic in his voice, because she connected the call right away. "Skinner" "It's Mulder, sir. Agent Scully was kidnapped approximately thirty minutes ago from the Bed and Breakfast that we're staying in. The suspect shot the proprietor, who gave us a basic description. I put an APB out, but there's not much to go on," Mulder's monotone did not fool Skinner. He heard the barely repressed fear and anguish in that voice. Skinner knew from experience that Mulder blamed himself, as usual, and anything Skinner could say wouldn't be enough. His own stomach was in knots--he should have told Mulder and Scully where the request for their involvement had originated. Skinner forced his mind back to the conversation at hand. "I'll call the Montpelier office and get some people down there. Have you notified her family?" "No, sir. I'd like to wait a couple hours, see if we can locate her first." "Do you have any leads?" Skinner already knew the answer to that one. They were very good at covering Their tracks. "No," came the terse reply. "Agent Mulder, I want you to stay off of this case. You're too close to it," Ignoring first sounds of protest, he continued, "No arguments. You may stay up there and look around a little, but you are not assigned to this case. I'll do a little digging of my own down here, and if nothing turns up, I'll be there tomorrow." "Fine." Mulder punched the End button angrily. He knew that Skinner had to pull him off of the case, but it still pissed him off. Scully was *his* partner. He had a responsibility to her. He would NOT allow her to die. He placed the cell phone in his pocket, stalked over to the wall, and rammed it as hard as he could with his fist. He felt so powerless, and the pain temporarily blocked out his feelings of helplessness. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 25 February 1996 location unknown time unknown Pain. The first thing she was aware of was a pounding headache. The center of it seemed to be the back of her head, which was resting on something hard. A steel table, maybe. She slowly opened her eyes, but the harsh light only worsened her headache. Scully methodically flexed each muscle group checking for injuries before she attempted to moved. Nope, nothing but a killer headache. She tried to move a hand up to her head to check for bumps, but found that her wrists were bound. Scully started to panic as she realized her ankles were trussed also. Then, she remembered. Her tarot cards. Casey had read her cards, and Scully had been mulling them over. The Tower card worried Casey. Scully had been obsessing over the possibilities when she heard a rustle behind her. Knowing that the room had been empty except for her and Casey, she started to turn around. Someone hit her hard on the head. Then, nothing until she woke up here. Scully opened her eyes again, very slowly, and allowed them to adjust to the light. She assumed that the person who had knocked her out was probably not somebody that she wanted to be near, so she surveyed her surroundings for a weapon. Scully lay on a steel table, not unlike the ones in autopsy bays. Brushing aside that disturbing thought, she continued looking around. The walls were a sick blue tile, and a row of sinks lined the far wall. Closer to her stood trays of medical instruments. It didn't smell like a hospital, but maybe Casey stopped whoever hurt her and brought her to the hospital. Maybe she was okay. Then, Scully remembered that her hands and feet were tied and her spirits took a nose dive. Scully lifted her head to survey the bonds. A leather strap extended about three inches from the table's edges to her wrist, where it looped tightly around and then buckled onto itself. The metal of the buckle bit into her arm, but she ignored the pain, twisting her wrists to examine her restraints from all angles. She could move her arms enough to brush against her legs and hang slightly over the edge of the table. Scully's spirits plummeted further when the door opened to admit a man who didn't look at all like a hospital employee. In fact, he wore faded jeans and a seventies style brown leather jacket over a white T-shirt that read 'Legalize Wacky Tobacky.' Her stomach knotted and she played possum. He approached and looked disinterestedly at her. "She's still out." He shouted. She heard another set of footsteps, then smelled the distinctive odor of cigarette smoke. Suddenly, she felt cold all over. "Well, what are you waiting for?" Yup, it was definitely him. Cancerman. The anger swelled as Scully grasped the helplessness of her situation. She was God knows where, tied to a table, and Cancerman was behind all of it. Cold dread replaced her anger when she heard his next words. "Prep her for the tests." Scully frantically tried to control her breathing. Hyperventilating would not do her any good. Finally, she heard footsteps heading for the door and the odor of cigarettes lessened. She heard someone moving around near the side of the room and assumed it must be the man in the leather jacket. Scully slid her eyes open a crack to ensure he faced away, then chanced a look around her. She took in the tray of surgical instruments standing next to her table and realized that this must be where the women were taken. Scully gauged her chances of reaching a scalpel before he turned back around, but decided to bide her time. She cautiously rolled her head to the side and focused on the man's actions. Her body tensed when she realized he was preparing an I.V. 'Oh, God,' she thought. 'it's a sedative.' The details of Christie Draper's autopsy popped into her head with surprising clarity: Several recent operations to the abdomen, tests of an unknown nature on her reproductive. Scully's heartbeat accelerated, but she held onto the tattered remnants of her control. 'Well, I guess this is what the Tower card was all about,' she thought ruefully. She wished she could remember what else Casey had told her, but her mind refused to cooperate. Scully's eyes snapped shut when the man started toward her. She couldn't figure out any way to avoid the I.V. He gripped her arm tightly and jabbed the needle into a vein on the back of her right hand. 'Obviously, he didn't go to med school,' she thought as she fought to keep her muscles relaxed. He hung the bag on a stand near her head and connected the tube to the needle in her arm. Scully's thoughts churned--she couldn't afford to be drugged, but if they knew she was awake, they'd more than likely up the dosage. Suddenly, a loud moan came from another room. The man paused. The moan repeated and he cursed under his breath. As he stomped out of the room, Scully felt the tingle of the first drops flowing into her vein. Her eyes flew open and she looked around for anything to help her. The tray of instruments to her right stood the closest to her, and it held several scalpels. As the argument in the next room escalated, Scully used her weight to try to propel the table she was on toward the tray. The wheels on the metal table squealed and Scully froze, waiting for the man to rush back in and find her awake. She waited several moments, then figured that the squeak was only inordinately loud to her oversensitive ears. Moving the table was a painstaking process even thought it rested on wheels. Without anything to push off of, she was forced to jerk her body and hope the table would travel forward. Scully just knew that someone would find her before she could reach the tray. Inch by inch, the tray grew closer. Scully strained against the leather binds and her fingertips brushed against the edge of the tray. Just a little bit more. Vaguely, she heard a woman screaming in the next room, but all of her concentration remained focused on the scalpel just beyond her fingertips. She relaxed for a moment and tried again. Got it! Scully carefully inched the scalpel to the edge of the tray. She grasped it tightly in her fist, then brought over the treacherous gap to the table. She debated whether to cut the I. V. or the strap, but the I.V.'s position in the back of her hand forced her to sever the strap first. She sawed awkwardly, yet furiously where the strap met the table. The blade made short work of the leather strap, but she could feel the drug starting to affect her. It was slowly numbing her body--she had to stop it before it knocked her out. Finally, the strap let go and she flung her right arm over her stomach, yanking the needle out of her right hand with her still trapped left. She set to work on the other strap. The progress was painfully slow and her body thrummed with tension and she assumed the man would return too quickly. Her hands began trembling with adrenaline and nerves, but she forced herself to concentrate. Once both hands were free, Scully bolted upright and went to work on the ankle restraints. She heard footsteps approaching and bit her lip to keep from panicking. Amazingly, the footsteps stopped next door. Scully heard the man in the brown leather jacket conversing with another man, possibly the 'doctor' who performed the tests. She couldn't hear their words, but the angry tones carried through the walls. Scully nicked her ankle and blood welled quickly. She cursed and applied pressure with her free hand. Finally, she sliced through the last restraint and vaulted off the table. The blood rushed to her head, and she had to steady herself with a hand on the wall. When the nausea passed, she headed for the door. There was no one in the hallway, but she knew the two men might exit the next room at any time. Logically, she figured that the woman next door screaming was Shalini Meda. Scully debated her options: She could run for it and possibly make it out, or she could wait and try to save the woman, too. She heard footsteps and the decision was made for her. Scully ducked back into the room and grabbed a fresh scalpel from the tray. She flattened herself against the wall, gripping the scalpel tightly. When the two men emerged, she heard a part of their conversation. " . . . on the other one?" The unknown man asked. "I set up a morphine drip. She was still knocked out, anyway. She's ready whenever." "Well, I need a cigarette. Go in there and set up the monitors, we don't want her to die just yet." Anger, fear, and disgust warred for domination as Scully listened to the two men. She heard someone head off down the hallway, and someone, presumably the man in the brown leather, walking toward her room. She really hoped that the element of surprise was enough to beat him. He stood at least seven inches taller than her and was built like a linebacker. Luckily, she paid attention to the lecture on 'how to kill with one stab of a scalpel' in medical school. She never expected to have to use the information that her professor had taught as a joke. Scully adjusted the scalpel in her hand and tensed her body. She could feel the morphine trying to slow her down and blood dripped down her foot from the cut on her ankle. As the man in the leather jacket entered the room, Scully launched herself at him and buried the scalpel in him as far as it would go. He made a gurgling noise, then dropped to the floor, dead. Scully quickly searched him for a weapon and found none. Exasperated, she hastily grabbed yet another scalpel and bolted from the room. She poked her head around the doorway into Shalini's room and took in the situation. The woman wasn't strapped to the bed, but she had an I. V. drip that probably contained morphine as well. Quickly, Scully crossed to the woman and pulled the needle out of her arm. end 3a/4 From winema@aol.com Thu Oct 17 06:15:46 1996 see intro for disclaimer/summary Bitter Pill Danielle Dupre' "What are you doing, you bitch?" Shalini growled. "Shh, my name is Dana Scully, I'm an FBI agent and I'm here to help you. But you have to be very quiet." Scully listened for footsteps, but didn't hear anything. She sighed with relief and turned back to the situation at hand. "No, give me the drugs! It hurts." Scully's eyes followed Shalini's hands to her abdomen. She groaned inwardly--how was she supposed to get a woman in pain from a recent operation out of this place without alerting anyone? Never mind the time limit. "I'm sorry that it hurts, Shalini. Really, I am. But you need to be alert and able to walk to get out of here. Come on, I'm going to help you up, okay?" Shalini grimaced in reply, but allowed Scully to help her into a sitting position. Shalini ground her teeth against the pain. She stood slowly, with Scully's help. Shalini's survival instincts were starting to kick in, despite the drug-induced haze she had been in. Shalini tried to take some of her weight off of the smaller woman, but her limbs refused to cooperate. "Okay, we're going out into the hallway and then we're going to go left. Do you have any idea how to get out of here or where we are?" "You don't even know how to get out?" Desperation tinged Shalini's voice. Scully considered lying, but decided she owed Shalini the truth. "No, I'm not sure. All I know is that the man who wanted to perform some sort of test on me went to the right, and so I'm going to go to the left." Scully wrapped her arm tighter around the taller woman and peeked into the hallway. "Okay, all clear. Let's go." They painstakingly made their way down the dimly lit hallway. It ended in a T, forcing Scully to make a random choice. Something in the back of her mind told her to go left, so she obeyed. About a hundred yards down the hall, a door opened out onto a makeshift parking lot. She breathed a sigh of relief and reached for the door handle. "HEY! Vinnie's dead! And the subjects are gone!" Scully heard the shouts as she pushed Shalini through the doorway and into the bitter cold. "Okay, Shalini, we need to get to those cars over there, okay? Can you try and run with me?" Scully quickened her pace, dragging the woman along. Two utility vehicles, three sedans, and an open-topped jeep sat in the lot. She wracked her brain to recall the lessons her wayward brothers had given her on how to hot-wire a car. They reached the jeep, which allowed easy access. Unfortunately, it wouldn't offer much protection from bullets or the biting cold. Scully hoisted Shalini into the passenger's seat and ordered her to slouch down. She raced to the driver's side and hopped in. Scully ripped the necessary wires down and frantically touched them together. The jeep roared to life, and she threw it into gear as the first angry men burst out the door. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 25 February 1996 Northfield Police Station 12:03 p.m. Mulder forced himself to dial the number. He had promised himself that he would call Margaret Scully at noon if Scully hadn't turned up by then. The shock and anger had long since passed, and now Mulder felt only anguish. Scully was gone. Again. And it was his fault. Again. He should have warned her that he suspected Cancerman was involved. She probably was already dead. No, she was so much a part of him that he had to believe he'd feel it if she were dead. Margaret's greeting forced his mind back to the present. "Mrs. Scully, this is Mulder." "No. No, not again." Her voice shook and he wondered how she already knew what he had called to say. If he could have heard the pain and guilt in his voice, he would not have wondered. "What happened?" "Dana was abducted by a man from the hotel we're staying at. We have one witness who described him, and we've put out an all points bulletin. I'm at the police station keeping tabs on everything, but we don't have a whole lot to go on." As painful as the truth was, he couldn't lie to Margaret. "Fox, you have to find her. I can't lose my baby girl. Please find her." Her words tore at him. If Scully had never met him, none of this would have happened. The guilt was almost too much to bear. He wondered if he could ever adequately apologize for all the pain he brought to her and her family. "I'm so sorry, Mrs. Scully. I'm doing everything I can." "I know you are, Fox. I should have warned you. I had a dream last night about Dana. It wasn't as bad as the last time, but she was in danger." Mulder's spirits lifted for a minute as he imagined arguing with Scully over her mother's premonitory dreams, but he quickly sobered. "Don't worry about it. I'll find her. I'll call you when I have any news." Mulder sank to the floor and buried his head in his hands. His cell phone lay buzzing on the floor. He was on round three of beating himself up when someone approached him. He glanced up to find Skinner standing there. "Agent Mulder, may I have a word with you?" Mulder hopped to his feet, amazed that Skinner had come all the way up to Vermont.. "Sir, what are you doing here?" "I wanted to have a word with you. In private." Skinner felt responsible for the situation and didn't feel right sitting in his office while the search for Scully proceeded. He also owed it to Mulder to break the news to him in person, so he had flown to Montpelier and driven down to this tiny town. He indicated that Mulder should go outside. After a few moments of walking in the bitter air, Skinner began. "Agent Mulder, I wanted to talk to you in person for a number of reasons, which I won't bore you with now. I did a little investigating of my own in DC and it doesn't look too good. This case was assigned to you by the man you so aptly dubbed Cancerman. I can't tell you anything more about him than that. But, I can tell you that unless Agent Scully can get herself out of whatever situation that she's in, she is as good as dead. They don't leave a trail." Mulder felt his heart drop into his stomach. Skinner had come up here to try and soften the blow. His feelings toward Skinner were ambivalent at best, but this put him in a whole new light. "Sir, with all due respect, I will find her. And when I do, I'm going to bring down that black-lunged son of a bitch." Mulder's quiet tone belied the rage that he was barely suppressing. "Scully is not going to die." Skinner glanced at Mulder sharply. He had always suspected that his two wayward agents had very strong feelings for each other, but Mulder was far too anguished to be harboring only friendly feelings. Skinner weighed his options carefully, then spoke. "Agent Mulder, do not let Them see how you feel. The last thing they need is more ammunition. I'm going to coordinate things from Montpelier. I'll be in touch." Mulder stood there, dumbstruck, as Skinner strode toward his car. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ From winema@aol.com Thu Oct 17 06:15:47 1996 see intro for disclaimer/summary Bitter Pill Danielle Dupre' 25 February 1996 location unknown time unknown Scully frantically checked the rearview mirror, irrationally hoping that no one was pursuing them. The jeep she had stolen hurtled down the dirt road at an impossible speed. She had no idea where they were, or which way the should be headed. For all she knew, they were circling back to the place they had just escaped from. She tamped down her fear and gripped the steering wheel tightly. Shalini slumped down in the passenger seat, shivering. Blood seeped through the flimsy paper gown she wore. Scully chanced a quick glance to assess Shalini's wounds, but gave up when she almost lost control of the speeding jeep. "Shalini," Scully barked. Shalini grunted in reply. "No, Shalini, wake up. You can't sleep right now." Shalini was slipping into shock, and the freezing temperature and biting winds were not helping. Shalini's eyes fluttered open briefly, and she began to shiver more violently. While adrenaline was keeping Scully's body temperature relatively normal despite the winter air, Shalini had no such protection. Scully groped behind her seat for something to cover Shalini. She felt the tell-tale scratch of an army-issue blanket briefly, but had to retract her hand when the jeep hit a rough patch. When the vehicle was on smoother ground, she arched her back and grabbed the blanket. Splitting her attention equally, she unfolded the blanket and steered the jeep around a pothole. Once she had positioned the blanket over Shalini as best she could with one hand, she checked again for pursuit. Two utility vehicles hurtled down the dirt path behind the jeep. Although Scully had a head start, her pursuers were beginning to close the distance. Scully wondered briefly how long they would wait before starting to shoot. She began to shiver, unsure whether it was because of the cold or the fear. Scully blocked out the bitter cold and focused her attention on the road in front of her. She had no earthly idea where they were, never mind how to get to civilization. Shalini was unconscious, bleeding, and in shock, and Scully could do nothing for her until they reached a hospital. Scully realized that she was panicking, and forced her logical mind to take over. Okay, what did she know? The road was not in good shape, and appeared to be sloping downward. It had been plowed recently, removing the treacherous snow. She assumed that she had not been unconscious for too long, so they were probably still in Vermont or New Hampshire. Their time was limited: Shalini needed a hospital, Scully herself had at least a concussion, not to mention the morphine in her system, and they were being pursued. She also had no idea how to get to any sort of town. She conceded that it did not look good, but then again, she still had a sizable lead and they hadn't started shooting yet. The jeep careened around a corner into a clearing, and Scully gasped at the scene in front of her. Three utility vehicles effectively blocked the road, which led to a gate. On the other side of the fence, the road became paved and disappeared around a bend. At least ten men were positioned behind the vehicles, all holding rifles. As she grew closer and closer, she weighed her options. There was no way she was getting through that gate, but the fence itself was a possibility. There was just enough room in between the truck on the right and the treeline for Scully's jeep to squeeze through. Judging by the surprised looks on the men's' faces when Scully accelerated, they had not anticipated that possibility. Scully leaned across the jeep to Shalini to reach her seatbelt. In their haste, neither woman had buckled themselves in. Scully grabbed the strap and yanked it toward her, trying to pin Shalini in the seat with it. Scully heard the first gunshots and scrunched down in the seat, straining to make herself a smaller target. She peered at the tiny gap she was aiming for intently. The jeep screeched in protest as it scraped against the bumper of the truck. A moment later, the jeep crashed through the fence, throwing sparks. Scully fought desperately to regain control of the jeep and angled it toward the pavement. The wheels caught the smooth surface and she floored the accelerator. Glancing back, Scully found that the vehicles that had chased her were too wide to fit through the gap between the other vehicles and the trees. Her pursuers were impatiently waiting for the other men to scramble into their trucks and get out of the way. She checked on Shalini briefly, but the woman was still unconscious. Scully sped up and searched for a road sign. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 25 February 1996 A Smoky Room, Washington, D.C. 12:42 p.m. The man grabbed the ringing phone impatiently and spoke into the receiver without preamble. "Is it done?" His expression of disbelief grew as he slowly lowered his cigarette into the ashtray. "Initiate the clean up. I don't want even a trace left. Let her be for now. As soon as you're done, come straight here. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 25 February 1996 location unknown time unknown Scully saw a road sign in the distance and checked her rearview mirror for pursuit. Finding none, she slowed to read the road sign. She was headed for Concord, New Hampshire. They were starting to reach the edges of civilization, but Scully decided that she wanted Shalini in a major hospital. She pressed on, checking the gas gauge quickly. The jeep still had some life in it, so she sped up to fifty-five on the twisting country road. Scully didn't notice the cop on the side of the road. The flashing lights of the police car soon caught her attention, but she didn't feel safe enough to stop. Once they reached a hospital, she would explain it all to the cops. Until then, the more cops behind her, the better. Maybe They wouldn't chance killing her and Shalini in front of so many witnesses. She maintained a steady speed, hoping the cop would realize that she wasn't trying to get away. As the miles ticked by, two more cops joined the pursuit. She laughed inwardly at the expression on Mulder's face if he could see Dana Katherine Scully drugged and speeding along, with three cops hot on her tail. She sobered as she considered the state he was probably in. Scully knew him well enough to know he was blaming himself for not being there, as usual. Her mother had told her how Mulder had fallen apart during her abduction, and she wished she had her cell phone so she could call him and reassure him. Scully saw a blue hospital sign and followed it onto interstate 89. She wondered how much longer it would take to get there. The cops were no doubt getting impatient. When she approached another hospital sign, she raised her hand and pointed to it, hoping to convey her intent to the cops. They did not stop the pursuit, but they seemed to drop back a bit. Scully signaled and exited the highway, hooking a right at the bottom of the ramp. She could see the hospital now, and she headed straight for the emergency entrance. Scully's jeep screeched to a stop, and she jumped out and ran around to Shalini. The cops were out of their cars and yelling at her to put her hands up. Two medics wheeled a gurney out to the jeep. "I'm Federal Agent Dana Scully. This woman is bleeding, in shock, and unconscious. I'm unarmed." As the cops approached warily, Scully turned to the medics and briefly explained Shalini's condition. She faced the cops again and addressed them. "I'm sorry I didn't stop, but she needed to get here as quickly as possible. If you'll excuse me, I need to use the phone." Scully turned and marched towards the door, shaky from the combination of morphine and adrenaline. The cops stared after her for a moment, then followed, not willing to believe her story without confirmation. Scully fought off a wave of dizziness and grabbed the phone. She swayed a little as she dialed the familiar number. "Mulder, it's me," Scully said, then slumped to the floor, unconscious. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 25 February 1996 Northfield Police Station 1:12 p.m. Mulder sat at a desk in the detectives' room, staring morosely out the window. He had no more leads to investigate. Skinner was right, there was no way to find her. He had been in that same position since Skinner left, waiting for any new information. Casey was in recovery at the Montpelier hospital and expected to recover fully. Mulder was sorting through every detail of the case he and Scully had been working on, looking for the clue that he had somehow overlooked. His cell phone rang and he pushed the Talk button. "Mulder." "Mulder, it's me." Mulder jumped out of his chair. "SCULLY! Where are you? Are you okay?" The detectives and agents in the room turned to watch him. The smile on his face was impossibly large. When he finally stopped yelling questions into the phone, he heard scuffling in the background, but no Scully. Before he could start shouting again, a male voice spoke. "Who is this?" "None of your god-damned business. Where is Scully? What did you do to her?" Mulder's face was a mask of rage. "So you know her? This is Officer Kyle Carter of the New Hampshire State Police. This woman just led us on a twenty mile, high-speed pursuit. She claimed to be a federal agent, but doesn't have any identification on her--" "This is Federal Agent Fox Mulder, badge number JTT047101111," Mulder interrupted. "The woman I just spoke to is Federal Agent Dana Scully. There is an APB out on her, she was kidnapped this morning in Vermont." The hint of humor that had surfaced in Mulder's voice as he pictured Scully the conscientious driver in a high-speed chase disappeared. "Put her on the phone." "Agent Mulder, we'll have to verify that information. I can't put her on the phone because she's unconscious." Mulder's heart beat faster as the fear resurfaced. "What's wrong with her and where are you?" His voice was controlled, barely. "Miss Scully doesn't have any obvious injuries besides a small cut on her ankle. The doctors are taking care of her right now. We're at Holy Family Hospital in Concord." Carter answered. "Call FBI headquarters and verify as soon as I hang up. I want a guard by her side until I get there, got it?" At Carter's grudging agreement, Mulder hung up. He outlined the information for the agents as he dialed Margaret's number. "She's okay," he began when Margaret answered. "She's in a hospital in Concord, New Hampshire. I'm on my way there right now." And indeed he was--he reached his car by the end of his sentence. "Oh, thank God. Fox, thank you for finding Dana." "Actually, she found me. She drove herself to the hospital and called my cell phone before she fainted." "Fox, why is she in the hospital, is she hurt?" "The police officer I spoke to assured me that she had no obvious injuries. But, I'll be there within an hour or so to make sure." Mulder heard Margaret's chuckle, "What?" "I was just thinking how typical for Dana to drive herself to a hospital before fainting." "She's always practical." After hanging up with Margaret, Mulder tried to contain the laughter bubbling up out of him, but he needed an emotional release after the day's events. He'd rather laugh than cry, anyway. After a moment, Mulder calmed down and dialed Skinner's number. "I'll get agents to the hospital and a report on her condition." Skinner began after a slight pause. "I assume you'll be staying in New Hampshire until Agent Scully is well enough to come home." "Yes, sir. Thank you for your help today." "Don't mention it, Agent Mulder." Mulder hung up the cell phone and headed for Concord, going eighty the entire way. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 25 February 1996 Holy Family Hospital, Concord 3:14 p.m. Mulder raced down the hall, desperate to see her. Scully had been admitted to the hospital with a concussion. Mulder called the hospital three times during his endless drive, so he already knew her room number. Finally, he reached room 197 and entered. Scully lay, dozing, in a private hospital room. Her face was ghostly pale, and her hair was a mess. She had never looked more beautiful to him. He approached her bed and lightly touched her hand. Scully's eyes fluttered open instantly, meeting his hazel ones. He grinned down at her and squeezed her hand. "Mulder, they killed her." Her voice was scratchy. "Scully, what are you talking about? Killed who?" Mulder hadn't heard the full story of the car chase, and it didn't occur to him to wonder why she headed for a hospital and not a police station. "The woman, Shalini Meda. I found her and took her with me. Someone had operated on her recently, same as the other women." Mulder's eyes shut briefly and his imagination served up graphic pictures of Scully's body abused and scarred. He opened his eyes again to escape the horrible images. "The incision split open a little on the ride, and she was suffering from exposure, but she should have been fine. They told me she died on the operating table. Mulder, they killed her because she was living proof of their experimentation." Her blue eyes were clouded with guilt. "Scully, you did everything you could. It's amazing that you were able to drive that Jeep at all, considering the morphine in your system and your concussion. You saved her from more experimentation." He watched as she fell back asleep. Mulder settled into a chair, unwilling to let her out of his sight. Soon, he, too, was asleep. Two hours later, a nurse woke Scully to tell her that the papers for her release were being drawn up. Scully sat up on the edge of the bed and allowed the nurse to take her blood pressure. When the nurse left, glanced up to find Mulder gazing at her with the oddest expression. She returned his look, then asked, "Mulder, what's wrong?" "Scully, I thought They had taken you again, that I'd lost you." His gravely voice trailed off at her smile. "Mulder, I'm not going anywhere." She replied. Then Scully did something decidedly un-Scully--she grabbed Mulder in a hug. Mulder wrapped his arms around her and rested his head on top of her auburn hair. "Scully, can I tell you something?" Mulder whispered. "What, you lost your gun again?" Her teasing voice was muffled by his shirt. Mulder didn't answer. Scully pulled back and met his gaze. "Mulder, what's wrong?" Mulder dropped his arms and turned slightly away, staring at the beautiful snow-covered trees outside the window. He took an shaky breath, then spoke. "Scully, I . . . somewhere along the line, I've fallen in love with you." Scully simply stared at Mulder for a long moment, shocked. The defenses that she'd carefully built around her feelings for this man were already weakened by her harrowing day, and hearing his confession broke them down completely. Scully grabbed Mulder by the arm and turned him back towards her. Mulder resisted, then allowed himself to be turned, expecting a slap or at least a pitying expression on her face. Scully was smiling, a big, dopey, adorable smile. Mulder couldn't help it, he smiled back. Then, she was kissing him. Dana Katherine Scully, MD was kissing him, really kissing him, and it was light years from the chaste peck of Christmas Eve. Mulder wrapped his arms around her waist. Then, all the reasons that Scully had been suppressing her feelings pushed their way to the front of her mind, and she stiffened and pulled away. She put her hands on Mulder's chest and he dropped his arms. Scully turned her head to the side to try to reign in her emotions, staring at those snow-covered pines, but Mulder reached out and took her hand. Scully raised her eyes to meet his. "Mulder, we can't do this." The regret was evident in her tone "We're partners. You don't love me, not that way. We can't want this." Mulder stared at her. Trust Scully to try to use logic to disprove her emotions. "Scully, how can you say that? Why can't we want this?" "The Bureau. If anyone were to find out, you'd be teased a little, but I would be the slut sleeping her way to the top." Scully let go of his hand and turned away to look out of the window, her arms crossed in front of her. She concentrated on an old, shriveled up tree, its branches laden with heavy white snow. Mulder walked up close behind her, but didn't touch her. "Scully, I know that the Bureau wouldn't be thrilled with this, but in case you hadn't noticed, I don't hold there inane rules in very high regard. If we want this, why should the Bureau be able to tell us we can't have it." Scully was getting irritated. She glared at the tired old tree. "Mulder, what's wrong with you? Why do you want this all of a sudden?" Mulder sighed. Obviously, she wanted to argue this to death. Fine, he would just have to win. "Scully, this isn't all of a sudden for either of us, is it? You kissed me." Scully flinched. Apparently he was determined to win this argument. "Mulder, I don't want to talk about this right now." Scully finally shifted her gaze from the snow-covered tree and turned to walk away, but Mulder caught her by the arm. "Scully, don't walk away from this. Don't walk away from me. The only question I have is if you feel the same way. The bureau, all of that stuff we can figure out later. I just want the truth from you." Scully met his determined gaze and considered. She did want this. And he seemed so sure that they could work this out.. But, he'd always been the believer. Her job was to decide which leaps to take with him and which ones to talk him out of. Well, she wouldn't make this leap until she was sure of one thing. "Mulder, I need to know something. I need you to promise me that we won't lose the relationship that we have now. Our partnership and our friendship is the most important relationship in my life, and I don't want us to try for more, and end up hating each other." Mulder considered her words, and a slow smile spread across his face. Scully did love him. He took her hand again. "I had the same reservations, Scully, which is why I never told you how I felt before. But after today, I didn't want to wait anymore. I promise you that we will always have this closeness." He finished, then waited for a response. Scully hesitated only a moment before reaching for him. "I do love you, Mulder." She pulled his face down to her level and kissed him. After a few moments, the nurse returned with a wheelchair for Scully. They broke apart guiltily. Scully tried unsuccessfully to keep from blushing and settled into the wheelchair. The nurse started to push the wheelchair out into the hallway. "Excuse me," Mulder said, "Do you think I could wheel her out?" The nurse nodded and relinquished control. Mulder heard Scully mumble something, and leaned down to catch her sarcastic words. "Are you gonna throw your coat over the next puddle, too, Mulder?" Scully glanced up to find Mulder's grinning face right next to hers. Oops, busted. Mulder leaned closer and whispered, "Nope, I think I'll let you get your little feet all muddy." Before she could answer, he kissed her, effectively ending all protests. THE END! Have I mentioned that I love feedback? Send comments, complaints, and commendations to dupred@utdallas.edu or winema@aol.com Thanks for reading!