Any Other Name				     Part 6 – Chapters 12, 13, & 14
by Louise Marin
mibosh@earthlink.net
www.angelfire.com/la/xspot


TWELVE:

Scully could not help but marvel at the two contrary Heavens she had 
experienced within this one short evening.  The first had been 
electrifying in Mulder's precious kiss, and the second had been 
comfortable in their forty minute drive north to the long-abandoned 
Catonsville Drive-in Theater, where she and Mulder would determine 
their fate.  

The two Heavens made Scully as nervous as they made her happy.  Once 
again she had begun to believe she could have it all, could have Mulder 
as partner, friend, dependent, and now potential lover.  But she 
remembered well that before the accident, her universe had not been 
vast enough for these two places of bliss to coexist.  She and Mulder 
would be fine if she could just keep the love and the work from 
bleeding into each other.  But Scully could hardly think of a more 
daunting task.

Mulder's special dinner had been a quiet affair full of nervous 
twitters and shy, anxious smiles brought on by both the kiss they had 
shared and the test that was to come.  After they had eaten, Mulder had 
hurried to finish his outfit, putting on his new shoes and his old gun.  
Then they had both dug deep to find their courage and headed for the 
front door.  

Mulder had wanted another kiss before they left.  The desire was in his 
eyes as he took Scully's arm and leaned toward her, his lips wet and 
pouty and beautiful.  She felt drawn dangerously to him, but she 
stopped him with a stern look.  The intimate side of their relationship 
was not to manifest while they were 'working.'  

He had seemed to understand.  The need disappeared from his eyes at 
once as he gave her his practically patented Mulder Blank Stare.  
Backing adequately away, he placed a hand on Scully's back the perfect 
way she had taught him and guided her out to the car.

Discussion on the road had been limited to the impending meeting and 
the possible identity of the mysterious contact.  Despite Scully's 
unusual position in the driver's seat, the trip felt as comfortable as 
her father's old easy chair.  She was finally exactly where she was 
supposed to be, and the apprehension that had haunted her all day just 
about dissolved away.  She worried little over whom they were about to 
meet.  They would and could deal with him, or her, whoever it was.  
Everything would be just fine, despite the fact that Scully's final 
throw of the dart had again predicted Diana.  Scully had Mulder at her 
side, on the job.  Heaven.

Mulder himself had been serious and perfectly in character from the 
time they left the house all the way up until the moment they stepped 
out of the car.  It was the noise, Scully thought now as they stood in 
line for tickets, that did him in.

They had not been expecting to see the bright, flashing lights, the 
crowd, and the excitement inhabiting the location they had been given 
for their meeting.  Calmly and with only a hint of bewilderment showing 
in his eyes, Mulder had watched the spectacle grow in front of them as 
they approached and parked.  But the moment she had turned off the 
engine, he had popped out of the car and slammed his door without even 
a look at Scully.

She had found him standing motionless next to the car, his head cocked 
and his mouth dropped open.  The flashing lights washed his upturned 
face in blue and pink and yellow.  His eyes were smiling, and he was 
listening to all the music and laughter as if it was the sound of the 
rapture of God.  Scully could almost feel his racing heart herself.  

When she had moved up next to him, he had turned to her with a familiar 
smile, the one reserved for aliens and Jersey Devils.  "Scully, what is 
it?"

"It's a carnival.  Also called a fair.  It's like…a big party, with 
games and rides and junk food," she had explained with a sigh.  "I 
can't believe they did this to us.  Well, I can, but still…"

"Did what?  Scully, it's beautiful."

Scully shook her head.  "Mulder, they sent us to the one place where it 
would be next to impossible for you to keep yourself in check.  I 
should have known.  Come on, let's go buy tickets.  I'm sure they want 
us to go inside."  She had tugged on his sleeve, and he had followed 
her through the packed parking area to the ticket line.

He fidgeted now as they waited, shuffling his feet and fussing with his 
tie.  They were out of place there in their work clothes, but they 
looked official, perfect for the meeting.  

"It was supposed to be a parking lot, Scully," he leaned over to murmur 
in her ear.  "You said a big, empty parking lot where people used to 
bring their cars to sit and watch movies."

"It is a parking lot, Mulder," Scully said, scanning the blacktop 
beneath her feet.  It disappeared beneath the temporary wooden fence 
behind the ticket booths.  "Carnivals and fairs move around, into big 
empty spaces, and this one has moved in on our meeting.  Mulder, will 
you please try to stand still?  Whoever it is might be watching us, 
even out here."

"I know," he said with a sigh as he jammed his hands into his pockets 
and straightened his face.  "But don't you think the Original would 
have been just a little excited coming to a fair?"   

"It's 'the' fair in that context, and please stop referring to him in 
the third person.  You have to be him, okay?  You never know who's 
listening and where they might be, Mulder.  That's been proven time and 
again in our own house," she said more bitterly than she had intended.

"Sorry, Scully," Mulder muttered.  He looked down at his feet as if he 
had just been caught with his hand in the proverbial cookie jar, and 
although she believed she would regret it later, Scully softened some.

Taking a little step closer to him, she tried to catch his eyes, a tiny 
smile on her lips.  "Hey, Mulder…"

"Hmm," he hummed shyly and then slid his eyes over to hers.

"I think he definitely would have been a little excited."

When his head perked up and his frown transformed into a smug grin, 
Scully knew she had been had.  "I thought so," he said confidently, and 
she had to fight the urge to swat him on his infuriatingly cute little 
behind.

"God, Mulder, that pout is going to mean the death of me," she groused.  
"Come on."  

The ticket line had moved quickly, and together they stepped up to the 
ticket window, where Scully purchased entry for them both into a world 
of bright lights and deep shadows, of clowns and balloons and 
mysterious fortune tellers and haunted houses.  It was a world familiar 
to Scully but painfully new to the man at her side, and she loathed the 
shadow men for shoving that fact in her face even now as she and Mulder 
were about to give them what they wanted.

Mulder appeared awed by the carnival once they were inside, but he 
walked very closely to Scully, his hand light and restless at the small 
of her back as they wove through the waves of people.  She was certain 
a million questions ate at him, but he kept them to himself, leaving 
Scully free to scan the area for surreptitious characters and for the 
landmark at which they had been ordered to appear.  

"There it is," she said when she finally spotted the giant movie screen 
up ahead next to the Ferris Wheel.

Mulder tracked her pointing finger and then checked his watch.  "We 
still have ten minutes, Scully."

"It's almost always advantageous to be early, Mulder," she instructed, 
but she had lost his attention.  He was busy checking out the aisle of 
brightly colored, busy game booths.

"Scully, what are…" he began, but she squeezed his arm to silence him, 
afraid that his question would expose his inexperience.

"God, Mulder, this carnival has dozens more games than the ones I 
remember attending as a little girl," she commented, trying to give him 
the information she had not let him request.  "Better prizes, too."

"Games.  Look, basketball," he said excitedly, stopping abruptly in 
front of the 'Hoop Shoot' booth.  "Just one game, Scully.  I'll be 
quick."  Few carnival patrons were interested in such a simple game 
when so many other, more high tech ones with flashing lights and 
mechanical figures were available, and Mulder stepped right up to the 
booth.

"One dollar buys three shots.  Three hoops out of three wins the big 
prize," the game master bellowed as Mulder fished in his pocket for 
money Scully knew he did not have.  He had spent everything she had 
given him that morning on their dinner and on his pretty new gold fish.

"Mulder, we don't have time for this," she said, straining to keep the 
irritation from her voice.

"We have ten minutes, Scully," he said, and then he whispered in her 
ear, "He would have played."

With a huff, Scully pulled a dollar from her wallet and plunked it down 
on the booth's counter for Mulder's game.  He was right.  He would have 
played.  And he probably would have gotten her to pay for it, too.  The 
game master took her money and then tossed the basketball to Mulder.

"Hey, Scully, how about a little wager?" Mulder asked as he hefted the 
ball in his hands, preparing to throw.

"A wager, Mulder?"

"A bet."

Hoping her expression did not throw him into a fit of the giggles as it 
usually did, Scully raised an eyebrow, silently asking where in the 
world he had learned about bets and wagers.

He smirked.  "Played poker with the guys last week.  At least until 
they realized my memory gives me an unfair advantage.  So, what do you 
say, Scully?"

"Fine," she agreed, just to get him moving along.  "What are the 
stakes?"

"A kiss."

"Mulder…" 

"I make three in a row and you have to kiss me, okay?"

"And if you miss?"

He grinned.  "I have to kiss you."

"Good God.  Just shoot already, Mulder.  The clock is ticking," she 
said, knowing full well that he would win, which of course he did.

"That's three!" the man inside the booth exclaimed after the third 
swish, and then he handed Mulder an enormous, blue stuffed seal.

Mulder inspected the toy for a moment, looking a little sad.  "For 
kids," he said, and then he gave the seal away to a little girl at the 
booth next door.

"Ready, Mulder?" Scully asked gently.

He swallowed hard, nodded, and they walked on, moving slowly toward the 
Ferris Wheel.  He seemed more nervous now as the meeting finally 
approached.  He was melancholy and restless, and Scully had to fight 
the urge to wrap her arms around his waist, to offer comfort.  Instead, 
she walked a bit closer to him, and he took the hint and let his hand 
fall again to the small of her back.

"It's going to be okay, Mulder," she said quietly.

"I know."  He took a deep breath and then changed the subject.  "So, 
Scully, when can I collect my prize?"

"You already collected your prize, Mulder.  And then you gave it to 
that little girl," she said, smirking.

"No, Scully, my other prize," he growled playfully, poking her back 
with his fingers.

Scully tried not to laugh.  "Well, it's obviously not going to be here, 
Mulder."

"Aww, c'mon Scully.  We could duck in between two of the vendors, into 
a dark corner.  No one would know," he suggested with a leer.

"Forget it, Mulder," Scully demanded, but then she whispered up to him, 
"We're working."

He sighed dramatically.  "I just don't understand that."

"Too bad.  We'll talk about it, again, later.  Now, behave please.  
It's show time."  

He nodded and turned serious.  They had arrived at the movie screen, 
which was really just a big, yellowing wall.  Food vendors were set up 
in a row in front of it and the giant Ferris Wheel spun nearby.  The 
area was a popular one, packed with people.

"See anyone we recognize, Scully?" asked Mulder as he searched the 
crowd.

"Not yet," said Scully.

"You sure about that?" came a smooth, familiar voice from behind them.

At least it was someone she knew, Scully thought as she turned to 
confirm her guess.  He stood there coolly, dressed in black and 
leather.  "Krycek," she scowled, mostly to ensure that Mulder knew with 
whom they were dealing.

Not a moment later Mulder's fist was flying, and then Krycek was 
splayed out on the ground, blood sliding from his lip.  His jacket had 
flipped open when he fell, and Scully noticed that he had only one arm 
fully sleeved.  The wooden one was tucked close and limp next to his 
body inside the jacket.

Krycek wiped his mouth, spit on the ground, and then looked up and into 
Mulder's eyes.  "Damn, Mulder, I've missed that these last two years," 
he said sarcastically.  Then, with all the grace of a three-legged 
wolf, he rose and quieted the crowd that was gathering around them.  
"Nothing to see here," he said.  "Just a couple of old friends and a 
few too many beers."  

The people dispersed quickly.  Krycek looked again at Mulder, smiled, 
and clapped him amicably on the back.  "Where the hell have you been, 
man?"

Mulder's face turned to stone.  "You killed my father, Krycek, you 
little bastard.  Don't you try to be my friend now.  Or ever."  Mulder 
raised his fist to strike again, but in a flash Krycek's dead arm 
shifted, and the nose of a gun poked out from inside his jacket.  
Mulder, to his credit, held his reaction in check, dropping his arm, 
but Scully chastised herself for not spotting the gun when Krycek had 
fallen.

"Okay, Mulder.  We don't have to be friends," Krycek said, and then he 
thrust his chin up toward the Ferris Wheel.  "Let's take a ride."

When Mulder glanced at Scully, she saw a flicker of fear in his eyes, 
but there was little she could do.  She nodded slightly and they 
slipped into the ride's short line.  As Krycek moved, Scully saw that 
he clutched his gun in a gloved but functional hand.

"Nice arm," she said as they waited.

"You like?" Krycek asked with a grin.  "It's new."

"Obviously," Scully snorted, wishing she had the evidence to arrest the 
little rat right here and now.  At least, she thought, Mulder seemed to 
have him fooled so far.  

The wheel stopped and its operator called them over.  She and Mulder 
began to move toward the waiting car, but Krycek stopped Scully with a 
rather intrusive hand to her chest.

"No," he said, and then he looked at Mulder.  "Just him.  And me."

Scully felt her heart miss a beat, or ten, as she stood there waiting 
for Mulder to lose his composure.  She could see right through his 
impassive expression, and she had never found him more afraid.  His 
hands were trembling as he fought the urge to shove them into the 
refuge of his pockets, which she had told him not to do during the 
meeting.  After a moment, though, he clenched his fists at his sides 
and nodded to Krycek.

"Smart move," Krycek said, gesturing with his good hand for Mulder to 
go before him.

"It's okay, Scully," Mulder said quietly.

Nodding, Scully took a painful step away from the two men.  Mulder 
turned and, followed by Krycek, walked the rest of the way to the 
Ferris Wheel car.  Fear still darkened his eyes as he sat down, but he 
seemed as focused on Krycek and the situation as Scully could hope for 
him to be.  The ride operator moved to load them up and lock them in.  

As the wheel began to turn, the wind ruffled and mussed Mulder's hair.  
Biting her lip, Scully told herself that if the gray-haired man needed 
Mulder enough to bring him back to life, he would not have sent them to 
meet someone who planned to do him harm.  But as she watched the two 
men rise, Scully began to pray


He was frightened when the big machine began to move, feeling the cold 
wind on his face and a prickling at the back of his neck.  They were 
being lifted up into the sky, and the motion was dizzying and 
unnatural.  His stomach lurched, but he tried to ignore it, to 
concentrate on Krycek and on Krycek's gun.  

He and Scully has spent hours discussing Krycek and what little they 
knew of him, trying to understand his loyalties and his agenda.  The 
Original's journal had suggested that Krycek was concerned with more 
than just saving his own skin and furthering his own lot in life.  
Wondering if that was true, he looked at the man seriously and with 
ire, as he knew the Original would have done.  "What do you want, 
Krycek?" he asked, his voice deep and steady.

Krycek snickered but did not answer his question.  "So," he asked 
instead, "really, where have you been, Mulder?  Did you hook up with a 
traveling porn festival and decide to take a year off?"

He ignored Krycek's joke, which he hardly understood anyway, and tried 
to follow the script he and Scully had worked out.  "We were told you 
had some information for us."  

"I do," Krycek stated, but then the man just sat there looking at him, 
the nose of his gun still poking out from inside his jacket.

The wheel was turning swiftly now, bringing them up and down and making 
his stomach roll.  He was about to demand that Krycek say what he came 
to say so that he could go back to Scully, but just as they reached the 
wheel's pinnacle for the fourth or fifth time, the ride stopped.  He 
startled, clutching his pant legs in his fists, almost even reaching 
over for Krycek.  Krycek the liar, the cheater, the murderer…  He 
swallowed hard and tried to tell himself he was not going to be sick.

As their seat swung in the air, he peered over the side to look for 
Scully.  She was so far below him, looking so small.  Her face was 
turned up toward his, and he tried to catch her eyes, seeking her 
reassurance.  But her eyes had become two tiny black dots and he could 
not tell if he succeeded.  After a moment, he began to feel dizzy 
looking down at the world swaying back and forth, and then he 
remembered Krycek.  He turned to face the man and found him laughing.  

He looked down at his lap, afraid that in his fear he had revealed his 
true self.  "Tell me what you came to say, Krycek," he said quietly.

Krycek continued to laugh.  "I suppose the big, bad Ferris Wheel ride 
could be a little scary your first time," he said after another moment.

With a gasp, he looked back up to study the other man.  "How did you 
know it's my first time?"

Krycek rolled his eyes and then smirked at him in a way that made him 
feel stupid.  

His heart fell.  He had failed.  "You know," he whispered, and the 
wheel began to turn again.

Krycek nodded and lowered his gun, laying it down on his thigh.  "Don't 
look so sad, kid, you were doing a damn fine impersonation.  I'll be 
reporting back that you had me completely convinced," he said, and then 
he wiped some more blood from his lip.

He blinked.  "So you knew…before.  But I don't…"

"Yeah, yeah, I know, you don't understand.  Well, listen up.  You're 
not the only actor in town.  And in the game, I play for more than one 
side.  A fact which you should have learned from your notes, by the 
way.  Surely Mulder guessed years ago that my loyalties were… 
confused."

"He did.  But more than one side of what, Krycek?

Krycek sighed and leaned his head back, looking up at the stars.  "Not 
important.  Let's talk about what we both know, for now.  We both know 
that the Syndicate wants Mulder to come back from the grave.  And we 
both know that deep down you're not too keen on the idea of living the 
rest of your life as someone you're not.  In fact, I would bet just 
about anything that from what you've heard and read, you don't even 
like the guy all that much.  Do you?"

He felt some relief now that Krycek's gun was pointed away, but the 
man's cold confidence and control made him nervous.  Krycek knew his 
private thoughts and fears.  "How do you know anything about me?" he 
asked defensively.

Krycek only shrugged and asked, "How do they?  There's no true privacy.  
Not for you."

He frowned.  "You say you're going to go back and act like I fooled 
you, but don't you think they're listening now?"

"I convinced them that wasn't necessary."

"And you believed them?"

Krycek laughed.  "You're so Goddamned paranoid.  Already.  I love it.  
Look, maybe they're watching from somewhere, but this location is way 
too loud and crowded for them to bother with a remote mic.  Now shut up 
for two seconds so I can get to the point.  I was ordered to give you a 
bad tip on the location of your sister tonight.  They wanted to see if 
you'd go chasing after her.  But you won't need to do that, because 
instead I'm giving you this."  Krycek pulled a piece of paper from his 
jacket pocket, pressed it quickly to the seat between them, and slid it 
over to him.

He took the slip of paper, unfolded it as he held it low and hidden 
from anyone watching, and read a string of eleven numbers followed by a 
dash and three letters, all of which meant nothing to him.  "What is 
this?"

Krycek grinned.  "Your heart's desire."

Feeling weak and queasy, he hid the paper in his palm and pressed it to 
his chest.  "The Others,"  he said, and then he looked Krycek in the 
eye.  "Why?"

"You just love to look that gift horse in the mouth, don't you Mulder?" 
Krycek said, and then he laughed.  "Look at me.  Even though I've known 
the truth all along, you've got me confused and calling you by his 
name.  Scully did do an excellent job.  So did Doctor Baker.  

"Anyway, listen, no one expected Mulder's death last year.  But when it 
happened, all the pieces on the board shifted.  There's no time to 
shift them back now.  I had hoped, years ago, that Mulder would fight 
with me, but he remained the Syndicate's pawn.  Most of the time, he 
served to distract certain players from the bigger picture.  They want 
that distraction back, but he, you, will only get in the way of those 
of us who want to fight.  And you have no idea what I'm talking about, 
do you?"

"You're talking about colonization."

"Yes.  On the grander scale.  It's complicated."

"But Mulder's not needed?  Many people thought he was."

"No.  I am taking care of colonization.  You are going to take care of 
yourself, and Scully.  Understand?"  Krycek had opened up a little, but 
now he lifted his gun and his face closed off again.

"Yes.  I understand."

Nodding, Krycek took something else from his pocket.  It was a little 
black phone like the one Scully carried with her.  "If something goes 
wrong, if you're in trouble and you have absolutely no options, you use 
this.  Press the red button, it's a direct line to me."  Krycek slid 
the phone across the seat to him, and he took it and quickly slipped it 
and the paper into his pants pocket.  "I wouldn't show the phone to 
Scully, by the way," Krycek then added, looking over the side of the 
car.  "She'll just take it away from you."

"No she won't."

Krycek gave him that look again, the one that made him feel as though 
he had learned nothing at all since he left the Clinic.  "I can't 
believe how highly they rated that useless piece of gray matter sitting 
on your shoulders.  Look, you're her child.  She doesn't trust me and 
she doesn't trust you.  Go ahead, show her the phone.  She'll decide 
it's dangerous and take it away."

He frowned, wondering how Krycek knew just the right words with which 
to sting him so.  "She's my family, but I'm not a child.  But you are 
right about one thing, Krycek.  She doesn't trust you, and neither do 
I.  Is it dangerous?"

Krycek laughed.  "Not to you.  Just hold onto it, okay?  You need all 
the help you can get."

As the wheel slowed and came to a stop with their car finally at the 
bottom, Krycek leaned over to speak into his ear.  "Find your brothers, 
bust up the Syndicate's little cloning project.  Reveal yourself.  Grow 
some balls, kid.  Do it before it's too late."  Krycek clapped him on 
the shoulder and then the Ferris Wheel's attendant opened their car's 
little door.  Krycek stood, stepped down onto the ground, and walked 
away.

"What do the numbers mean?" he called after the man, hoping that his 
loud question would not ruin Krycek's ruse.  He wondered if it was true 
that no one was listening.  He wondered if any of what Krycek had said 
was the truth.

Krycek cocked his head but kept walking.  "The answer is…in the air," 
he called without looking back.  

He watched Krycek nod to Scully as he strode past her.  She tried to 
say something to him, but the man just kept going until he disappeared 
into the crowd.  

A moment later his head stopped spinning and he realized that he was 
still sitting in the open Ferris Wheel car and that the ride operator 
was trying to get him to disembark.  "I'm sorry," he said quietly, and 
then he rose and stepped down from the car onto very shaky legs.



Scully caught Mulder as he came off the ride, taking much of his weight 
on her shoulder.  He was pale and shaking, and she cursed Krycek for 
having taken him away from her.

"Mulder, do you feel sick?  Did he hurt you?" she asked urgently as she 
walked him away from the crowd and the bright lights around the Ferris 
Wheel.

"No, Scully.  We just talked.  It was good, I think.  I'm okay," he 
said, but he sounded breathless and ill, and after taking a few more 
steps, he halted Scully with a hand on her shoulder.  He looked down at 
her, his brow creased and damp.  His face turned from gray to green, 
and then he flung himself at a nearby trash can and retched up his 
dinner.

"Oh, Mulder," Scully sighed.  She squeezed his arm and then let him be, 
hoping he understood that the reason she was not rubbing his back and 
cooing in his ear was because they were in public and working, not 
because seeing him suffer did not break her heart.

When the vomiting seemed to slow, she got a cup of water from the 
nearest hot dog vendor and then returned in time to see him pull his 
head from the trash can.  He took the water she offered, drank, and 
spat, and drank, and then he looked at Scully and smiled.

She frowned, perplexed but hopeful.  "What?"

"We have to talk.  He said no one is listening to us here, and he 
didn't seem worried, but…"

"Okay.  Let's walk, Mulder, just in case."  She took his empty cup, 
tossed it, and then led him through the crowd of people, toward the 
exit and the parking lot.  "Was he convinced?  Why would you have 
discussed whether or not anyone was listening in?"

Holding onto her arm, Mulder leaned over and spoke excitedly but 
quietly into her ear as they walked.  "He already knew.  Who I am.  He 
is the double or maybe triple agent you said you suspected him to be 
when we studied about him, and he knew.  I don't know how.  I think 
he's been watching us, too.  But he said he's going to lie to the gray-
haired man, as I guess he already had to lie to be chosen to come here 
tonight in the first place.  When he gives his report, he's going to 
pretend that he believed I was…that I had him completely fooled."

Scully raised an eyebrow.  "Should we believe him?"

"I don't know.  But he seemed to want to help.  He gave me this."  From 
his pocket he drew a small, white square of paper, which he slipped 
into her hand.

The paper had one line of numbers and letters scrawled on it, and that 
was all.  "What is this, Mulder?"

"The Others."

Taking his arm, Scully pulled him to a stop and then searched his eyes.  
"What do you mean?"

A slow, jubilant smile spread across his face.  He leaned in again to 
speak against her ear.  "The numbers will tell us the location of the 
Others.  I don't know how.  But the Gunmen…  I think the Gunmen can 
help us.  And Krycek gave me a clue."  

"Oh my God, Mulder," Scully whispered.  Then she glanced around until 
she spotted a darkly shadowed, vertical cleft in the side of the 
Fortune Teller's tent.  With her hands on his hips, she pushed Mulder 
into the darkness, pressed him against the canvass, and planted a kiss 
on his lips.

"Scully, what are you doing?"

"Presenting you with your prize," she said, matter-of-factly.

He gasped, mockingly, and she could see him suppressing a giggle.  "But 
Agent Scully, someone might see."

"Let them," Scully said, laughing and showing him the paper with the 
numbers on it.  She looked around to make sure no one had noticed them 
disappear into the shadows, and then she pulled him down to whisper in 
his ear.  "The person we came here to fool already knows the truth, you 
came down off that Ferris Wheel safe and sound, and we've got the 
Others.  Does it matter now?" she asked, but then with a gasp, she 
closed her mouth and her eyes, her joy flipping to regret at the sound 
of her own words.  She had let him kiss her a couple of times and now 
her priorities were shifting back and forth faster than she could keep 
track of them.  Soon there would thirteen Mulders running around.  She 
wondered not for the first time who they would each become and if she 
would be able to keep playing pretend with the one in her arms, the one 
who was so right, but who could also be so frighteningly, wonderfully 
wrong.   

"It does still matter to you," he said sadly.

Scully nodded, but then she pushed the thought aside and kissed him 
again, running her tongue around his lips.  At first he did not 
respond, but she persisted and he relaxed and they plunged into each 
other, suckling until they were each filled with all the comfort and 
all the love they could hold.

When they broke, he fished around in his pants pocket and then produced 
a black cellular phone, which he cradled secretively in his palm.  "He 
said if there's an emergency I should use this to call him."

"Hmm.  That's a new one, Krycek wanting you to contact him.  I wonder 
what he's really up to."  Scully took the phone from his hand.  It 
looked normal enough, except for the unmarked red button below the LCD 
display.  "We'll have the Gunmen take a look at this.  Could be 
dangerous," she said as she slipped the phone into Mulder's jacket 
pocket.

Abruptly, he took her hand and held it against his chest.  "You trust 
me with the phone?"

"Of course I do," she said, squeezing his hand.  When he frowned as 
though he did not believe her, she continued, "Look at you, Mulder.  
You've come so far in just three weeks, and you were perfect tonight.  
Do you know how proud I am of you?"

He shook his head.  "I didn't fool him, Scully," he whispered.  "We 
didn't prove anything tonight."

"No, Mulder, you didn't fool him.  You handled him, one of your most 
notorious enemies.  You did well, okay?  You can do this."

He nodded.  She thought she saw him blinking tears away.  "He 
underestimated you, Scully," he said, and then he twined his fingers in 
her hair and caressed her cheeks with his thumbs.  "Krycek said that 
his people…well, some of them…want me to expose the Clinic, and myself.  
They don't want me to go to work at the FBI.  But I will, I'll keep 
pretending, if that's what you want, Scully.  You, not them," he said, 
his voice quiet and heavy with emotion.  "We'll find a way, after we 
find the Others.  As long as we can still do this…"  He placed a gentle 
kiss on her lips.

"Oh, Mulder."  Near tears herself, Scully stood on her toes, wrapped 
her arms around his neck, and buried her face in his cheek.  "I was so 
scared.  When he took you."

She felt him sigh against her, and then he slipped his arms around her 
waist and held her to him.  "I was too," he whispered, kissing her 
temple.  "Krycek said I need to grow some balls.  Does that mean what I 
think it means?"

Scully laughed and took his hand.  "Let's go, Mulder.  The guys are 
gonna love that one."



THIRTEEN:

The security cameras in the alley outside the Gunmen's lair seemed to 
be working again.  Scully and Mulder did not even have to knock -- the 
big, metal door flew open for them the moment they stepped up to the 
threshold. 

"Hey, you lived!" cracked Frohike from the doorway.  The little man 
looked drowsy, but Scully was thankful that the night was still 
relatively young and his pajamas and bunny slippers had not made a 
repeat appearance.  She watched him scan her face.  "No cat scratches.  
Guess it wasn't Fowley, eh?"

Scully smirked.  "No.  No, thank God.  Although there were a few 
minutes there when I was wishing it actually was her," she said, 
glancing up at Mulder, who simply smiled and nodded.  Physically, he 
had been a bundle of nervous energy and excitement since they had left 
the carnival.  The hope that lit his eyes was stunning.  But he had 
hardly said a word.  Scully wondered what would finally come spilling 
from his mouth when he did get his thoughts together.

"Well, then who the hell was it?" Frohike demanded, but before Scully 
could answer he turned to Mulder.  "Look at you grinning like the 
Cheshire Cat.  Maybe I should just assume your mission was successful 
and break out the champagne and corn dogs."

Rolling her eyes, Scully bumped Mulder with her hip.  "Why don't you 
tell him what happened, Mulder?"

"Yeah, why don't you freaking tell us already?!" came Langly's nasal 
voice from inside, somewhere, amidst the mountains of electronics and 
conspiracy theory publications.

Nodding, Mulder ushered Scully into the 'house' and closed the big 
metal door behind them.  "It was Krycek," he said calmly.

"Son of a bitch," muttered Frohike.  "It was Krycek.  And…?"

"And please tell me you know what eleven numbers followed by a dash and 
three letters means."  Mulder pulled the paper Krycek had given him 
from his pocket.

"Eh?"  Frohike snatched the note from Mulder's hand and squinted at the 
string of digits.

"What are the letters?" asked Byers as he appeared from a back room and 
stepped up behind Frohike to read over the shorter man's shoulder.  
Byers was dressed casually in slacks and a blue button down, and he was 
toweling dry his wet mop of red hair.  "GSX.  Hey, Langly, any ideas?"

"Beats the hell outta me," came Langly's voice again from some dark 
recess.  A moment later, he emerged carrying a plate of untouched fried 
eggs.  Scully imagined him sitting amidst a tangle of wires and 
equipment cooking his late night snack on a Bunsen burner.  She stifled 
a laugh.

"Hmm.  Where did you get this, Mulder?  Did Krycek give it to you?" 
asked Byers.

"Yes.  He said it would lead us to…"  He smiled, but Scully saw worry 
in his eyes, and she knew he feared their friends would not be able to 
help.  "He said it would lead us to the Others.  He said that the 
answer was in the air, as a clue about the numbers.  Scully and I 
thought maybe it was a radio frequency or something, but…  What?"

The Gunmen looked at Mulder with wide eyes and worried expressions.  
"Hold on a sec there, big guy," Frohike said, pulling Mulder over to a 
workbench and sitting him down.  "Krycek knew about the other clones?"

"Yes.  Krycek knew…"  He cocked his head.  "Krycek knew a lot of 
things.  But it's not my fault."  When he glanced at Scully, she gave 
him a reassuring nod, and then in a rush he spilled the tale of 
Krycek's duplicity between the gray-haired man's crew and some other 
shady, probably malevolent group.  And then he explained Krycek's 
promise and the gift he had given them scrawled on the little white 
scrap of paper.

The Gunmen were befuddled and amazed during Mulder's story, but they 
pulled themselves together quickly when it was done.  "So, Krycek's 
going to tell the boss men that he met with the original Mulder tonight 
and tipped him some bad info they wanted him to have on Samantha," 
Byers tried to clarify.

"That's what he said.  Now we wait and hope that he meant it," Scully 
said.  She closed her eyes, just for a moment, and said another little 
prayer.

"You realize they expect you to keep up the charade by running off to 
investigate this lead, right?" Langly asked, setting his empty plate 
down on one of the work tables.

"Right."

"But instead you're going to go after the Clinic." 

Scully paused for a moment, trying to gain some perspective on the 
choice she was making and the road they would take.  She told herself 
that the quest had simply been altered, that the objective had 
transformed from a sister into twelve brothers and that the man with 
whom she now shared her home and her kisses was still the one she 
wanted.  And then, shaking her head, she laughed at the futility of it 
all.  "He didn't actually give Mulder the information on Samantha," she 
said.  "He left us with no choice, with one possible course of action.  
The little scum is getting smart in his old age."  

She glanced at Mulder, who watched her with big, pleading green eyes, 
and if she was uncertain before, she knew now that she could not keep 
him from his true heart's desire.  "Mulder said there was urgency in 
Krycek's words.  We need to find the Clinic tonight."

With bittersweet smiles Scully was sure matched her own, the Gunmen 
hopped to the task.  Langly took the paper with the numbers and parked 
himself at a multi-screen computer terminal, where he began to type 
madly.  Scully took the stool next to him, watching but not 
understanding his 'kung-fu' at all.  A few seconds later, she felt 
Mulder standing behind her, brushing against her back.  He slipped his 
hands beneath her thighs, lifted her up, and scooted himself onto her 
stool, settling her onto his lap and wrapping his arms around her 
middle.  Langly glanced at them, grunted, and then returned to his 
typing.  Scully stiffened.  

Mulder gave her a little squeeze and then pressed his lips to her ear.  
"I know it's confusing," he whispered.  "And I know the future 
frightens you.  But I'm still me…  I'm still him."

And the Gunmen had seen Mulder hug her a hundred times in the last 
three weeks, she realized.  Nodding, she relaxed back into his embrace.  
She had been afraid, but their relationship had not changed much since 
he had kissed her.  She hoped now with all her heart that the same 
would be true once they found the Clinic.

Frohike reached around Langly to turn on some kind of wave-scanning 
device next to the monitor Langly used.  He turned a few knobs, Langly 
made a few final keystrokes, hit enter, and a fuzzy, bright green line 
seared across the scanner's screen.

"Eureka," Langly said.  "We got us a satellite transmission.  
Government, too.  That's what the G stands for.  S is satellite.  X is…   
Well, you figure it out."  Smirking, Langly looked over his shoulder at 
Frohike.

"Your kung-fu's the best," Frohike muttered, looking Langly in the eye.

Scully knocked on the table to get their attention.  "Boys, can we find 
out what they're transmitting to this satellite?"

"Even better, we can view it, I think.  Looks like a digital video 
transmission," Langly said, turning back to his terminal.  Reaching up 
above his head, he switched on a modestly sized television screen and 
then his fingers began to fly again over his keyboard.  

Scully stood when the television lit up with a black and white picture.  
"Oh my God," she said.  Barely able to breathe, she began to sway, just 
a little.

Mulder clamped a strong arm around her waist.  "That's Six," he said, 
pointing up to the screen with his free hand.  "And that's Eleven.  
This is the security camera in their washroom.  This is…"  He dropped 
his arm and did not continue.  Scully could feel him breathing heavily 
against her back.

The soundless view on the screen came from a ceiling camera in a large 
bathroom.  The camera looked out over a row of sinks, and facing it 
were two wet-haired and naked Mulders.  The one called Six was brushing 
his teeth.  When he finished, he put his toothbrush away and then 
reached into the sink and splashed water at his brother, who laughed 
and splashed him back.  Before their fun could turn into a full scale 
water fight, though, they both glanced up at the camera.  Wearing 
contrite expressions on their perfect Mulder faces, they turned off 
their taps and left the room.

"Oh my God," Scully said again.  She rubbed the moisture from her eyes, 
smearing it across her cheeks.

"Are there more?" Mulder asked Langly.  "Can we see more transmissions?  
There were so many cameras."

"Maybe."  Langly typed in some more commands, and the screen's display 
changed from one uninhabited room to the next.  One view, however, 
showed a man walking down a hallway, and Mulder excitedly identified 
him as Dr. Baker.  

Eventually they came to what Mulder called the sleeping-room, which was 
dark and full of shadows.  Scully could just make out twelve beds, ten 
of which appeared lumpy, occupied.  Two tall, thin, shadowed men, 
presumably the Mulders from the washroom, slipped into the two empty 
beds.

Feeling queasy, Scully glanced over her shoulder at Mulder.  He was 
practically bouncing with joy.  

"We need to get a location.  Can we find the location of the 
transmission?" he asked, leaning over Scully and tapping Langly 
insistently on the shoulder.  Scully slipped from his embrace and he 
moved closer to the Gunmen, who were huddled tightly around the 
computer terminal.

Rubbing her temples, she stepped away from the little group of 
chattering men and turned away from the screen above them.  The clones, 
the Clinic, everything was true.  And it was all hitting her, stark and 
real, as if for the very first time.  Naked Mulders, plural, in the 
bathroom, brushing their teeth.  The one she had taken into her home, 
had made into her partner, for better or for worse.  She and he were 
forever.  Forever and ever.  But he was wrong.  He was wrong…

She startled when she felt a big, warm hand slide across her lower 
back, curving around her hip.  Mulder gazed down at her with serious, 
worried eyes.  "You okay?" he asked quietly.

"I'm fine," she said, rubbing her eyes again.  "It's just a lot to take 
in."

He shook his head and threw her a disbelieving smile, but he did not 
push.  "We've got a location," he said.  "About two hours south of 
here.  The guys are changing and packing up."

"We're going…they're coming?"

"How do you think you're going to get past all that security, Agent 
Scully?" Frohike asked as he walked by, pulling a black sweatshirt over 
his head.  "Someone's gotta block those video transmission so that 
whoever's receiving them doesn't know you're there."  He picked up a 
box full of tools and gadgets and carried it over to the door.

"I have to see them, to make sure they're okay there," Mulder told 
Scully as the other two Gunmen emerged from one of the back rooms.  
Like Frohike, they had donned stealthy black clothing and carried boxes 
of equipment.

"All right," Scully said, releasing a shaky sigh.  "We do need to 
confirm their location before we can call in a team to shut the place 
down."

"Good.  Let's go."  Fire flared in Mulder's eyes.  Then he turned on 
his heel and darted out the front door, leaving Scully and the Gunmen 
standing there, gawking.

"Well, he's certainly acting like old Mulder these days," Langly said, 
snickering.

Scully shrugged, feeling bittersweet relief at Mulder's behavior.  
Before she could head for the door herself, though, it swung open again 
and Mulder slipped back into the room.  Smiling apologetically, he 
marched right up to her, took her hand, and escorted her out to the 
Gunmen's van.


The new Clinic was similar to the old one, but with a few prominent 
differences.  The facility was in a relatively rural rather than 
industrial area, and the property itself was enormous.  The tall 
surrounding fence now stood at least three times the distance from the 
building itself -- fifty or sixty yards, Scully guessed.  A moderately-
lit and just about empty parking lot still spread out beyond the front 
gate, but the rest of the Clinic's exterior was covered in grass and 
sparsely planted trees.  

Security, however, seemed just as tight as Mulder had described when 
they had discussed the original Clinic, if not tighter.  Scully saw the 
silhouette of a man inside the little guard house just outside the gate 
as Byers pulled the van to a stop down the block in the dark shadow of 
a low-hanging, dense oak.  She knew it could have been her own 
paranoia, but she thought she also saw cameras sitting atop the tall 
fence, watching the street, watching the van.  She wondered if the 
fence was still electric.

"We need to get closer to the transmitter.  See the satellite dishes on 
the roof?" Frohike asked as he typed rapidly at the computer he held on 
his lap.  "There's so much crap bouncing around the airwaves here, I 
can't even find their damned video feed anymore.  We need to get onto 
the property."

"Well, how the hell are we going to do that?" Langly asked.  "They've 
got to have cameras on that gate.  Even if we drove up there and held 
the guard at gun-point, someone up above would still see us go in and 
call out the posse.  That's no good.  No good."

Before Frohike could argue with Langly -- although Scully had no idea 
what argument he could possible have -- Mulder reached over the middle 
seat and put his hands on his two friends' shoulders.  "Wait," he said.  
His eyes were fixed intensely on the guard booth.  "There.  Look."  He 
pointed.

A tiny white light flashed on and then off inside the guard booth.  "It 
looks like a….pen light," Scully said.

"No, this is focused.  See how it doesn't light up the booth?" Byers 
asked after the light had flashed again several times.  "Maybe a laser 
pointer."

"Are they pointing it at us?"

"Can't tell."

The light continued to go on and off.  Time stretched out in various 
lengths between the flashes.

"Hey, is anyone else seeing a pattern here?" Frohike asked.

Mulder let out a small gasp.  "Morse code.  They taught me Morse code," 
he said.  "They're saying, 'come.'  They know…  I think they know I'm 
here."

Frohike turned back to Mulder and grinned.  "Looks like you're not the 
only code-cracker in the family, Langly."

Langly nodded, still looking at the flashing signal.  "I concur.  The 
word is 'come.'  They want us to go up there.  It think we should.  
What have we got to lose now?"

Mulder looked at the dark building in the distance and bit his lip.  
Worried, Scully took his hand.  "A lot," he said.  "But I don't think 
we have any other choice.  And the fact that they're being so secretive 
suggests they want to help.  Don't you think so, Scully?"

"I think I'm trying to figure out how we can fit seventeen people in a 
van built for eight," Scully stated, checking her gun and wishing she 
had brought her own car along in case they had to break the Others out 
and leave in a hurry.  "Let's go in, John."

Without a word, Byers started the van back up and pulled up to the 
gate, which swung open as they approached.  The guard in the booth was 
filling out an official looking document and did not look at them as 
they passed.  Scully noticed a small camera trained directly on the 
man's face.

Byers parked the van right in front of the building, which upon closer 
inspection was, like the grounds, different in texture but similar in 
layout to the original Clinic.  This building looked like an old 
farming warehouse, constructed with brown wood supported by iron beams.  
All the windows but those next to the front door were boarded up from 
the outside.

The front door itself was already open, and in it stood a man with 
brown hair and a beard.  He was wearing a white lab coat, and Scully 
recognized him from the video transmission as Mulder's Dr. Baker, the 
man who cared for the Others, the man who had let Mulder escape.  

Baker beckoned them to him, and cautiously they all hopped out of the 
van and climbed the three stairs that led up to the door.  The doctor 
was on the telephone, holding either a cordless or cellular receiver up 
to his ear.  He put a finger to his lips, suggesting they remain quiet, 
as he let them file past him into the brightly lit lobby.  Then he 
quietly closed and locked the door.

"No, it doesn't look like a total system outage, just a glitch in one 
of the computers," Baker was saying into the phone.  He held up his 
hand and shot Scully a pleading look as they all waited for him to 
finish up.  "Lee's working on it right now.  The interior cameras 
should be back up in thirty, exterior a little longer, all right?  No, 
there's no need to send someone out.  Really.  Thank you."  Looking 
relieved, Baker sighed and switched off his phone.

"You knew we were coming," Scully said before the man had a chance to 
speak.

Baker nodded.  "A…mutual acquaintance of ours contacted me earlier this 
evening, Agent Scully.  I watched for you and shut down security when 
you arrived.  My superiors think it's a malfunction that took their 
cameras off-line, but the time I've bought us will be short.  Forty 
minutes or so."

"What about the man at the gate?  He appeared as though he was still 
being watched."

"He was.  The camera in the guard booth is powered and controlled 
separately from the rest of the system.  It's their insurance policy, 
against me, I think.  After last time…"  Baker's eyes flipped up to 
Mulder.  Scully had a thousand other questions, but she felt certain 
that the doctor no longer realized she or the Gunmen were even there.  

Stepping close to him, Baker ran his hands down Mulder's chest, over 
his suit jacket and his tie, and then he wrapped his fingers tightly 
around Mulder's upper arms.  Tears glistened in the man's eyes.  "My 
boy…" he said wistfully.  "Look at you.  It worked.  Oh God, it 
worked."

"Dr. Baker," Mulder said simply, his face blank, "the Others."

"Yes, yes.  Come with me.  We don't have much time."  Still holding one 
of Mulder's arms, Baker turned and led them into a long, sterile 
hallway.  If the man was sad or surprised at Mulder's cool reception, 
he did not show it.  A chill, however, ran down Scully's spine as she 
tried to digest the idea that Mulder had had a life here, with this 
man, before he had returned to her.

"Security's the only department from which funding wasn't cut," the 
doctor explained as they walked.  "Me, I hardly get enough to keep them 
clothed and properly nourished.  I'm so glad you came at last."

A large, uniformed guard approached and passed them, nodding and giving 
Mulder a little smile as he went.  Mulder's eyes perked up, and he 
nodded back as if he and the guard were old acquaintances.  Scully 
realized with a start that they probably were.  "I take it all the 
staff here agrees with what you're doing," she commented.

"Nobody likes what's become of this project.  The guards, the teachers.  
They stay quiet to save their jobs, or their lives.  But we've got 
twelve sweet boys here who deserve better than what they're getting.  
Although they have been a bit restless and unruly lately, sitting here 
in limbo." Baker kept his voice hushed as he stopped in front of a 
heavy looking, closed metal door.  "This is it.  I sent them to bed 
several hours ago, before I knew you were coming."

Baker put his hand on the door's silver handle, but instead of turning 
it, he looked back at Scully.  "I want to do this properly," he said.  
"I want the authorities called in.  I want this place and all our 
cloning equipment dismantled.  I want identities for all my boys, and I 
want protection for myself and my staff.  My superiors will most 
certainly seek my death the moment they learn of what I've done.  Can 
you do all that for me, Agent Scully?" he asked, and then he looked 
proudly at Mulder.  "Agent Mulder?"

"You have my word, on all those things," Scully promised, impressed by 
Baker's commitment those for whom he was responsible and by his desire 
to finally correct some of the wrongs he had served.

Mulder, however, did not seem so pleased.  He pulled his arm from 
Baker's grasp and looked the man in the eye.  "Why?" he asked.  "Why 
did you wait so long to help us?  You have our phone number, you have 
our address.  Why did you keep them here all this time when you could 
hardly afford to give them proper care?"

Baker shook his head but did not break from Mulder's gaze.  "Because 
you needed the time," he said, "to become what…I'm sorry…to become who 
you have become.  There is still a greater good to be served, and you 
will play your role in it."

Frowning, Mulder took Scully's hand and laced his fingers through hers.  
"I don't understand."

"I know," Baker said apologetically.  "I'm sorry."

Mulder shook his head.  "I make my own decisions now."

Baker raised a skeptical eyebrow.  "Do you?" he asked, glancing at 
Scully.  

Mulder ignored Baker's cutting remark and continued to stare the man 
down.  He appeared calm, but Scully could feel his tension in the grip 
he had on her hand.  "Show me the Others, please, Dr. Baker," he said.

With a sigh, Baker opened the door in front of them.  He reached into 
the room to flick on the light, and then Mulder tugged Scully inside.  
What she saw broke her heart and nearly knocked her to the ground.

A dozen Mulder's were waking up and sliding from their beds.  Some were 
naked.  Others wore yellow pajamas, some with tops and some without.  
They all had bed hair, and they all had bleary eyes that lit up when 
they saw Mulder.  Several murmured the word, 'Thirteen,' and then the 
two closest threw themselves into Mulder's arms, and he held them, and 
Scully had never seen his face polished with such bliss.

Tears began to well in Scully's eyes as she watched the Others form a 
semi-circle around Mulder.  Their beauty -- their strong bodies and 
their intelligent but sleepy eyes -- was dizzying.  Hating the weakness 
she felt in her knees, in her bones, she rubbed her tears away.  She 
told herself to hold it together, to be rational and useful.  But the 
reality of these men in this room was harsh and cold in her face, and 
she worried that she would not be able to accept tomorrow what she was 
seeing tonight.

When Mulder released the two Others from his embrace, one of them 
smiled and then made a sign with his hands.  This Mulder was one of the 
first three, the ones Mulder had told her could not speak.  She wanted 
to ask what he had signed, but she could not find her voice as she 
watched her Mulder close his eyes in response to the Other's signed 
words.  For the first time in days Mulder appeared truly at peace.

Smiling, Mulder shook his head and then opened his eyes as another 
Mulder shuffled through the huddle.  This one was Ten, who had not been 
made correctly.  He walked with a limp, but he was one of the most 
assertive, and he had helped Mulder escape.

Nudging the silent one aside, Ten pulled Mulder into a fierce hug.  
Scully could see Ten blinking back tears as he smiled and said quietly, 
"You made it."

Mulder nodded against Ten's shoulder.  "We're going to take you out 
now, too."

"I'll get to see the outside?  And the sky?  And the stars?"

Mulder pulled from Ten's embrace and then reached up to touch his 
cheek.  "Yes," he said, "and so much more."

Finally, a tear spilled over and rolled down Scully's cheek over 
Mulder's tender gesture.  Biting her lip, she wiped the tear away.  
There were thirteen now, Mulder and twelve Others, twelve brothers, for 
whom she had to be strong.  Oh God, she asked, how can there be so many 
Mulders?

As Mulder was telling the Others that they would all be leaving 
tonight, one of them, the one that had used sign language, finally took 
an interest in Scully.  He moved toward her but stopped a few feet 
away, looking at her bashfully from behind long eyelashes.  Then he 
made another sign with his hands.

Scully looked to Mulder, seeking his attention with her eyes.  "What 
did he say?" she asked when she received it.

At the sound of Scully's voice, all the other Mulders stopped their 
chatter and their questions, turning to look at her with wide eyes.  
The silent one, though, looked up at her Mulder and made his sign 
again.  Mulder laughed.

"What?" Scully asked.

"That's One.  He says, 'Nice,'" Mulder told her, grinning 
mischievously.  "I think he likes you, Scully."

"Oh," Scully whispered.  Swallowing hard around the lump in her throat, 
she turned back to One.  He watched her with anticipation and fear in 
his eyes, as if he thought he had done something wrong.  He was one of 
the fully clothed Mulders, and his pajama top hung crooked on his 
shoulders and his unruly hair, which was just a bit too long, veiled 
his forehead.  He appeared in almost every way to be a little boy, 
afraid but intrigued by a stranger.  With a start, Scully realized that 
she already knew this child, and that she missed him almost as much as 
she loved the tender man she had helped him become.

"It's okay," she said gently as she went to One and took his hand.  She 
shuddered at how like Mulder he felt, and she wept with him when a tear 
fell from his eye.  Standing on tiptoe, she pulled him to her and 
placed a kiss on his forehead.  The instant her lips left his skin, she 
heard a chorus of little gasps from the other Mulders.  She looked at 
them and smiled, and that was all the encouragement they needed to come 
to her.  

They approached in a swarm that was as marvelous for Scully as it was 
terrifying.  It was a paradox of joy and pain that reminded her of how 
she had always imagined giving birth would feel.  

In seconds she found herself in the middle of a tight Mulder-huddle as 
they began to inspect her. They pushed their faces right up into hers 
and smiled and smelled her and tickled her with their breaths.  They 
touched her everywhere, tentative at first, running their fingers 
through her hair and tracing all the lines and curves of her body.  She 
had tried to tell herself that they were his brothers, but they felt 
exactly like him.  They were many, but they were one; they were Mulder 
with two dozen hands.  They were two dozen hands attached to twelve 
separate bodies.  As much as she loved them, she hated them, and she 
felt herself being stretched, hard, both up into heaven and down into 
hell. 

A whimper escaped her lips, and Mulder was there instantly, nudging the 
Others away and pulling her from the huddle.  He laced his fingers 
through hers and introduced her formally to his brothers.  "This is 
Dana Scully.  She's my family.  Be gentle with her," he said and then 
kissed her temple.  Scully thought she should be irritated at his 
possessive words and tone, but there was so much pride in his voice 
that she felt only joy for him.  He was one of them, but he was also so 
much more.  And he was hers.  And he was Mulder.  He was everything.

After another moment of shy smiles shared between Scully and the 
Mulders, the room erupted into a chaos of voices and moving bodies.  
The Gunmen had finally pushed their way inside, and several of the 
Mulders went to investigate them immediately, touching them, pulling at 
their clothes, and shyly asking questions.  

The Mulders all chattered in the same deep voice that Scully loved.  
Some were laughing and some were crying.  Some stayed very close to 
her, waiting to see what would happen next.  And in the middle of it 
all her Mulder stood still, and tall, and serious.  He seemed to be 
assessing each of his brothers, making sure they were all okay.  

"Is Dana Scully your mate?" was one of the questions one of the Others 
asked Mulder.

"No," Mulder said.  When Scully glanced up at him, she caught a little 
hint of pink coloring his cheeks.

"She is so beautiful," another Mulder said, looking shyly over at her.  

Her Mulder squeezed her hand as if to agree, and Scully felt the heat 
rise in her own cheeks.  "Thank you," she said gently to the one who 
had called her beautiful.  He smiled.

A moment later she felt fingers touch her free hand.  The Mulder called 
One, who had not left her side, looked down at his feet as he slipped 
his hand into hers.  He was trembling and his cheeks were still wet 
with tears.  Scully knew that if her heart had not broken the moment 
she had entered the room, it would have surely broken now.

Needing to sit down, she kissed the back of her Mulder's hand, released 
him, and then tugged One over to the nearest bed.  They settled down, 
and she wiped the tears from his cheeks, put her arm around him, and 
rocked him as he sniffled into her neck.  Several of the Others joined 
them there, sitting next to and behind Scully and studying her with 
wide smiles and big, shining eyes.  They were quiet, as if they were 
not sure what to say, but they all seemed so happy to be near her.  
Scully promised herself that later she would single them all out and 
give them each a big hug and a kiss on the cheek.  Now, though, time 
was wasting.  She pulled out her cell phone and dialed the bureau.

After three rings, she received a 'Service not available' message from 
her cellular company.  "Dr. Baker," she asked, "is there a telephone I 
can use here?"

Frowning, Baker shook his head.  "Our phones are all monitored.  Yours 
isn't working?"

"No," Scully sighed as she batted curious Mulder hands away from her 
phone.

"There's probably too much interference in here, with all the security 
transmissions and junk," said Frohike, who was having a hell of a time 
getting his black wool sleuthing hat back from the Mulder who had 
pulled it from his head.  "Probably going to have to go back outside."

"All right.  Dr. Baker, will you please get them cleaned up and dressed 
and ready to go?  Mulder, guys, let's head back out and get this show 
on the road," Scully said.  She ruffled One's hair and then released 
him, but another Mulder took her arm before she could leave the bed.

"We'll go out now?" the Other asked in a small voice, his eyes wide and 
pleading.

"Oh, sweetie, not yet," Scully said, hugging him to her and scratching 
his head.  "We can't make a big commotion outside just yet.  Soon, I 
promise, okay?"

"Okay," the Other agreed, giving Scully a sad smile.  She kissed the 
top of his head, and then she left him and One, regretfully, and filed 
out the door with Mulder and the Gunmen.

"Mulder, when we first went in, One signed something to you.  What did 
he say?" Scully asked as they all headed back down the long hallway, 
toward the front door.

Mulder smiled, peace again touching his face.  "He pointed at me.  He 
said, 'You save us.'"


Once they were outside, Scully asked the Gunmen to take the van around 
the other side of the property to watch for Syndicate members or other 
malicious visitors.  She and Mulder moved away from the building and 
then, using her cell phone, Scully contacted the FBI.  It took all of 
three minutes to convince them that people were being held there 
against their will and that a team was required to investigate and 
dismantle the Clinic.

"They should be here in about thirty minutes," she told Mulder, who had 
been watching her with a light in his eyes and a gentle hand on her 
shoulder as she spoke on the phone.  "They'll see that this is 
unethical and inhumane and they'll shut the place down.  And the 
Others…"  She frowned.  "The Others…"

Mulder's face fell.  "We're going to take them home with us, right?" he 
asked tentatively.

Scully tapped her phone against her chin, wondering suddenly what in 
the world she had thought they were going to do with all the Mulders 
once they had found them.  Of course they were going to take them home.  
Of course.  But her world was turning on its ear again, and she did not 
know how to feel.  Everything would be different now, all their plans, 
everything.  But still, how awful could it be to wake up to thirteen 
smiling mulder-faces every morning?

"What happens after that?" she finally asked.

Mulder took a deep breath and then took her hand.  "Well, we'll get 
them names and schooling, and then we'll find them jobs and people to 
love them."

"Gonna be their daddy, huh?" Scully asked, as amused by him as she was 
proud of his noble soul.

He grinned.  "I guess so."

Nodding, Scully moved closer to him and looked up into his shining 
eyes.  "And what about you?" she asked quietly.

"When the authorities come, I'll tell them I am the Original, kidnapped 
by the gray-haired man and just recently released.  I meant what I told 
you, Scully, at the carnival.  I'll be Fox Mulder, FBI, just like we 
planned.  And we can always be together.  Right?"

"Right."  Scully wrapped her arms around his waist and buried her face 
in his chest.  "I love you, Mulder," she said for the first time since 
that night three weeks ago when he had asked her to be his family.

"I love you," he said.  "Forever."

"How touching," came a third, familiar, sickening voice out of nowhere.

Scully closed her eyes for a moment, and then she took a step back, 
pulling from Mulder's embrace.  She found the man standing a few feet 
beyond Mulder's right shoulder, lighting a cigarette.  "Agent Scully, 
Agent Mulder," he said as he flicked his match onto the ground.

Mulder spun around to face the man, and the fear and the anger in his 
eyes confirmed Scully's assumption that his gray-haired man and the 
smoking man were one and the same.  This was the man who had been 
playing with them on the phone all these weeks and watching them in 
their sweetest, most intimate moments.  Without a second thought, she 
pulled her gun and pointed it at the man's chest.  

To her frustration, however, he took her threat in stride.  Holding his 
hands up, he spoke casually.   "Certainly you wouldn't think I'd let 
either of you come to harm, especially in light of Mulder's ravishing 
success tonight.  I was informed he did quite well.  We can be 
civilized here, can't we, Agent Scully?"

"Forget it," Scully said, tightening her finger on her gun's trigger.  
The smoking man sighed dramatically, his patronizing air lighting a 
fire in Scully's belly.  Apparently, Krycek had told his promised lie.  
She wondered if the smoking man believed it, knowing that nothing with 
him, or with Krycek, was ever so easy.  "How did you know we were 
here?"

"I didn't, actually," the man said and then took a drag from his 
cigarette.  "Quite an interesting surprise.  I do hope you intend to 
follow up the information you were given on your sister, though, 
Mulder.  To keep up appearances, if nothing else."

Mulder stepped closer to Scully, scowling but remaining silent.  She 
could feel the hatred rolling off of him as if it were her own. 

The smoking man smiled, as though he was pleased with Mulder's reaction 
to him, and Scully realized that he had every right to be.  Mulder 
seemed to hate him now just as much as he always had, and he was giving 
the man exactly what he wanted.  

"So, you've found the Others," the smoking man said, turning to Scully.  
"What are you going to do now, Agent Scully?"

"You know," Scully stated.  "You were listening.  Aren't you always?"

"Yes.  I suppose I am.  The authorities are on their way and the Clinic 
will be shut down."  

"Don't think about trying to stop it."  Scully cocked her gun.  

"Of  course not.  But we don't have much time now then, do we?"  

The man's nonchalance made Scully nervous.  Surely he was not going to 
let them simply walk away with all the Others, whether Mulder had 
agreed to continue his charade or not.  "Time for what?" she asked.

The man turned and gestured toward the property's front gate, through 
which rolled a black sedan.  The vehicle turned and stopped just inside 
the gate, its side to them.  The windows were clear, and Scully could 
see only the driver inside.  "Will you walk with me this way?" the man 
asked, nodding toward the car.

"Why?" Scully asked skeptically.  "Planning to take us for a ride?"

The smoking man chuckled.  The sound was sickening.  "No," he said.  
"Please.  I just want to give you something.  Something Mulder needs.  
You know my rationale is reasonable.  Why would I want to harm either 
of you now?"

Mulder put his hand supportively on Scully's shoulder.  She was 
surprised to find that he was steady and not shaking.  "You wouldn't," 
he said, his voice, now that he had found it, smooth and bold.  "But we 
don't always have to do as you say."

"Ah, but the things I've told you to do thus far were almost always in 
your best interest, were they not?"

Mulder frowned, his brow creased.  Scully cursed the smoking man and 
the situation he had created, hating the fact that in so many ways his 
plans and his demands were responsible for Mulder coming back to her.  

"Fine, we'll walk with you," she said, curious and feeling in control, 
at least for now.  "But no tricks."  She gripped the gun more tightly, 
wondering if the man knew she would not hesitate to kill him if the 
need were to present itself.

"Excellent."  The man moved and Scully and Mulder followed, Scully 
telling herself that if the man did have something Mulder needed, she 
was damn well going to get it while she had the chance.

"Don't you want to know how we finally found this place?" she asked as 
they walked around to the far side of the car.  She glanced over at the 
guard house, curious, but saw no one through the window.

"It was only a matter of time," the man said, shrugging.  "I've always 
found you to be quite resourceful, Agent Scully, and well, now that 
Agent Mulder is back…  Welcome back, Agent Mulder.  I believe a bit of 
gratitude is in order, don't you?"

Mulder looked into his enemy's eyes with fire in his own.  There was 
not a trace of fear or hesitation in his voice when he said, "I owe 
everything to Scully.  Not to you."

The smoking man gasped mockingly.  "Genetic loyalty.  Astonishing.  You 
got to see my clones, didn't you?  I've been wondering what to do with 
them."

Mulder grunted at the man's words and his possessive tone.  Scully saw 
him ball his fist and rear up as if he were about to strike the man, 
but he held himself in check.  "I've passed your test," he said.  "I'm 
going to work at the FBI as soon as possible.  You got what you wanted, 
and it is time for the Others to live their own lives.  You can't keep 
them here anymore."

The smoking man merely smiled and lit another cigarette, looking not at 
Mulder but at the Clinic in the distance.  He took a long drag from his 
cigarette and then said, "I know.  I can't."  The smoke trailed from 
his mouth as he spoke, and when his lungs were empty he looked to the 
man in the car and nodded.

The explosion ripped through the night like a sonic boom.  Out of the 
corner of her eye, Scully watched the Clinic begin to crumble as she 
pulled Mulder down with her, ducking behind the car. The earth quaked 
beneath her, and she used all the control she could muster to keep her 
grip on the gun in her right hand and on Mulder's arm in her left.  She 
could hear nothing but the ringing in her ears and the sound of 
breaking and crashing and then the roar of fire.  Before she even 
realized he was pulling away, her left hand was empty and Mulder was 
gone.

Glancing up at the smoking man, Scully found his cold eyes boring into 
hers.  She had never wanted to shoot someone so desperately in her 
life, wishing only that her gun held enough bullets to hit him once for 
each of the lives he had just taken.  But what was done was done.  She 
did not want to live with the mess the murder would leave, and she 
could hear Mulder's feet pounding the pavement as he ran recklessly 
away from her, back toward the Clinic.  The smoking man had won again.  
Without another look at the man, Scully turned and ran after Mulder, 
hoping he was not desperate enough to go inside.

"Mulder, stop!  You can't save them now," she shouted as he neared the 
entrance, which had been blown open.  His stride did not slow or waver.  
The building was a ball of fire behind its broken and  collapsing outer 
walls.  Mulder shielded his head from the heat and flying debris with 
his arms and started up the steps to the front door.  Scully was still 
forty or fifty feet from him.  

"Fox Mulder, if you love me at all you will stop immediately!  I will 
not lose you too!" she bellowed, hoping he could hear her.  To her 
relief, he paused and then her words seemed to sink in.  His shoulders 
slumped and he turned slowly, coming back to her.  When he was far 
enough from the building, he dropped his arms, and Scully could see the 
tears streaming down his cheeks.  She ran to him, and he caught her and 
crushed her to him.

A loud crash from the burning building ended their embrace.  When they 
turned to face the Clinic one last time before going to find the 
Gunmen, they saw a man emerge from the front door.  He was a black 
silhouette against the fire, but there was no mistaking his form.  It 
was Mulder's.  The Other's arms were wrapped tightly around his body as 
he limped toward them.  It was Ten, with the defective foot, Ten, who 
wanted so much to go out and see the sky.

When he drew near and the moonlight hit his body, Scully could see that 
he was a bloody mess.  His clothes were shredded, and the skin on his 
face, arms, and chest was burnt and lacerated, exposing soft, raw 
tissue.  But his eyes, his beautiful Mulder-eyes, were clear and 
focused on Scully.  She went to him, and he fell into her arms.  She 
dropped to her knees under his weight, taking him with her, and he 
buried his torn up face in her chest, closing his eyes and struggling 
just to breathe.

"Oh, God," Scully whispered, wanting to hold him tight but afraid of 
aggravating his injuries.  Touching him lightly, she rocked him for a 
few seconds as Mulder knelt down next to them, his cheeks wet but his 
face blank with shock.  Very gently she rolled Ten over and onto the 
ground, laying his head in Mulder's lap.

Scully bit back a sob as she pulled away Ten's tattered shirt to 
examine the burns that bit deeply into his chest.  Forcing herself into 
doctor mode, she checked his pulse.  It was weak, and many of the burns 
were fourth degree.  He would not survive.

She looked up at Mulder, who was caressing an unburned patch of Ten's 
forehead, moving his fingertip in tiny circles as his tears dripped 
onto his twin's head.  Scully touched Mulder's arm and then looked into 
his eyes.  "I'm sorry," she whispered, barely able to find her voice.  
"You have to say good bye."

Mulder released a tiny sob and then looked back down at Ten.  But Ten 
was not looking at his brother.  He was looking up at the star-dusted 
sky.  There were tears welling in his eyes as well.  Then, to Scully's 
surprise, Ten licked his charred lips and spoke.  "I see it," he 
rasped.  "I made it."  With extreme effort, he tilted his chin up to 
look into Mulder's eyes.  "Thank you."

Mulder touched Ten's burnt cheek.  "I'm sorry," he whispered, and then 
Ten's head lolled to the side, and Mulder's brothers were no more.

Mulder blinked down at Ten's body.  Scully had never seen him look so 
lost.  When she gently slipped Ten's eyes closed, though, he seemed to 
register the death he had witnessed and held in his hands.  He turned 
his face up to the sky, perhaps to the God she had told him was up 
there somewhere, and released an anguished cry that echoed above the 
roar of the fire, through the night.

When Mulder finally turned his attention back to Scully, his eyes were 
cold and hard and deadly serious.  "Help me," he said, nodding toward 
the burning building.  Then he wrapped his arms around Ten's chest and 
began to lift the body.  As Scully went to take Ten's feet, the Gunmen 
pulled up in the van and came to help as well.  Silently, they carried 
the body to a broken section of the building and deposited it into the 
fire, where it would burn to ash with all the others.

"He liked to look out the windows.  He was at the front, was probably 
watching us," Mulder said numbly as they all backed away from the 
intense heat.  "Why didn't he come out?"

Her heart breaking yet again, Scully took his cold, quivering hand.  "I 
guess it didn't occur to him that he could," she said.  With a crash, a 
portion of what was left of the roof collapsed into the flames, sending 
orange sparks and embers sailing up into the sky, where they 
disappeared amongst the stars.

They spent just another minute or two watching the Clinic collapse 
before the smoking man's clean up crew emerged from wherever it had 
been standing by.  Unmarked white trucks poured in through the front 
gate, parked, and began to discharge a swarm of men in silver hazard 
suits, none of whom seemed to look twice at Mulder, Scully, and the 
three Gunmen.  The smoking man and his car had, of course, disappeared 
into the night.

"Let's go," Scully said, tugging on Mulder's hand.  "It's over now."  

Once they had all piled back into the van, Scully phoned the bureau to 
call off the task force she had requested.  Knowing she would catch 
hell from Skinner on Monday, she told them the information she had been 
given had been false and that there was nothing at the address she had 
specified but the burnt out ruins of an old farming warehouse.



FOURTEEN:

All the way from the Clinic to the Gunmen's and then back home, Scully 
waited for Mulder to come out of his shock and start to cry or shout.  
He never did.  And neither did she.  Their apathy was comfortable, 
familiar, and sad.

She left him now where he stood in her living room staring blankly down 
at his own hands.  In the kitchen, she started some tea.  She wondered 
if, when it was ready, she would be able to feel it burn her tongue.  

There had been so many Mulders, but now they were all gone.  All but 
the one that was hers, the one she had raised, the one she was now 
afraid to look at lest she find that the man he had become under her 
care was gone as well.  She would look at him and see the Others and 
know that he was not who he was supposed to be.

The water was about to boil, and Scully turned off the stove.  She was 
pulling mugs down from the cupboard when she was summoned back into the 
living room by a loud crash followed by the sound of glass breaking and 
metal being bashed. 

Mulder had dumped his computer and its monitor onto the floor.  He 
kicked the machine, ramming his new dress shoe into it over and over.  
His face was red and puffy, and he was biting his lip, and he moved 
with such desperation that Scully was sure the only thought in his mind 
was that this machine and all the information inside it needed to die.  
Now.  And when he finally looked up to Scully, his eyes were cold and 
they told her to leave him be.  He gave the computer one last kick and 
then stormed off toward the bedrooms.

Scully sank into the couch, too numb to feel fear over Mulder's need to 
destroy the computer.  She closed her eyes and rubbed her temples.  
Scenes from the Clinic began emerge from the darkness.  There were so 
many Mulders.  They had touched her and felt like him.  There were 
sweet One and eager Ten, but One had died Ten had died.  She had seen 
him die, just as she had seen Mulder dying.  So many Mulders, but only 
one in truth.  And then it hit her .  The body.  She had forgotten to 
ask to see the body, and now it too was gone.

She had one word to whisper, "Mulder."  But still she did not cry.


When she was ready she found him not in her room, but in his own.   He 
was sitting on the bed, the one he never slept in, with his feet on the 
floor and his head in his hands.  The room was gray with moonlight, but 
his bowed form, still blanketed in the charcoal suit, was a black hole, 
telling nothing, collapsing in on itself, but beckoning with an 
irresistible force.

Scully drifted slowly to him, searching his silhouette for clues to his 
heart.  She found one in the short, deliberate breaths he took.  She 
had thought maybe now she would find him crying, but she could feel his 
desperate attempt to contain himself all around her, souring the room.  
He could not cry, could not reveal himself, lest he fly apart all over 
himself and all over the people who loved him.  Scully knew that 
desperation well.  Indeed, he was a black hole, one in a universe of 
many.

Coming to stand between his knees, Scully nudged his hands from his 
head and took his chin with gentle, caressing fingers.  She tilted his 
face up, and the moonlight snared his eyes like it would an owl's in 
the night.  His eyes were red but dry, as she had expected, and they 
were full of fury and full of life.  This new hatred flickered 
brightly, but defined darkness.  It pulsed hot and cold together, was 
both animalistic and…human.  He had suffered; he had been transformed.  
And part of Scully, the demanding part that needed nothing but to hold 
onto the past, could not be sorry.  He looked more familiar now than 
ever.

"Mulder?" she probed as she slid her palm against his cheek.

"They're gone."  His words came in that old monotone meant to aid him 
in hiding, most of all from her, but his voice itself was raw.  He bit 
his lip and looked down at his shoes.  "They're all gone.  I should 
never have gone there."

"Mulder."  Scully slipped her hand around the back of his head and 
pulled him to her.  He wrapped heavy arms around her waist and, 
sniffling miserably, rubbed his face from side to side between her 
breasts.

"They're gone," he murmured again.

"I'm sorry," she said, but that same part of her that needed to hold 
onto the past whispered in her ear, telling her to forget the Others.  
She had seen them, had seen what this one before her truly was.  She 
had seen so many things over the years.  Ignoring the guilt digging 
into her heart, she told herself now as she had a million times before 
that it was better not to believe.  He looked like he should now, in 
his suit, with his tragedy.   Loss was never wanted and it was never 
kind, but some losses were necessary.  "I'm sorry, Mulder."

He nodded against her chest and then straightened up, burying his face 
in her neck.  "It's just me, now," he whispered as he rubbed his nose 
and lips against her skin.  "It's just me.  They're all gone.  I'm the 
only one.  I'm the one.  It's me, Scully."  His body hitched in her 
arms, as if he was about to finally cry, but instead he wrapped his 
mouth around Scully's jugular and began to suckle.  She could feel her 
life pulsing against his tongue as he caressed and kneaded her flesh, 
and erotic tingles ran down her arms as she scratched his jacket-clad 
back in long, comforting strokes. 

Dipping her chin, she whispered into his ear, "Yes, Mulder.  It's you.  
And it's us.  You and me.  Always."

At her words, he released her neck and fluttered silky, wet kisses up 
her Adam's apple and over her chin to suckle her mouth instead.  His 
kiss was soft but reckless, his lips full and wet and sliding easily 
against hers, and Scully returned the kiss mindlessly.  With gentle 
suction, he drew her tongue into his mouth so it could investigate 
alongside his own.  He explored, nibbled, and washed her without method 
but with blissful madness until he hit upon the secret, sensitive, 
wondrous corner where the side of her tongue met her throat.  She 
shuddered, and he stroked her there until he coaxed a hum from her 
chest.  

She marveled for only a moment at his keen instincts; he was Mulder, 
Mulder kissing her, Mulder knowing her better than anyone else ever 
could.  A pleasantly demanding heat pooled between Scully's legs and 
spread up into her belly and down the insides of her thighs.  She 
pulled away to study his face, running her fingers through his hair.  

"It's me," he said again steadily, but his bright eyes had grown dim 
and his fury had settled into despair, and in that too she knew him.

Yes, she told herself.  He was the one.  The others, their faces, the 
wounds, the body which she would never see, were by necessity but a 
memory, growing more distant with every moment.  He was the only one 
she was ever going to have.  And the only difference she could see 
between the old Mulder and the Mulder of today was that now she could 
touch him and he would touch her in return, taking what he needed and 
giving everything he had.

Driven by that need to touch, to know life, to give life, Scully 
smoothed her hands over his supple shoulders and then unwound his tie 
and slid it from his neck.  He moved his hands to her waist, massaging 
her hipbones with his thumbs as he stared down at her belly.  Dark 
smears of blood crossed his white dress shirt, blood that was and was 
not his own.  Scully slipped her palms up his chest to set to work on 
the shirt's buttons, releasing them smoothly like a slow-dance in a 
dark room on New Year's eve.  Something new, she told herself.  
Something new for them tonight.

Pushing his shirt open, she ran the backs of her knuckles up and down 
the skin and hair on his chest and then over the hard bud of one of his 
nipples.  He sucked in a sharp breath and then leaned again into her, 
pressing his forehead to her collarbone.  

"Shh, Mulder," Scully whispered, kissing his hair.  "Take these off."  
She slipped her hands beneath his shirt to cup his perfect shoulders 
and then she slid her palms down his arms, separating the clothes from 
his body.  Without lifting his head from her chest, he pulled his arms 
from his sleeves and allowed the shirt and jacket to fall to the bed.  
Scully let her hands roam over his bare back, gazing down at his 
muscles and the bones they covered, at all the hills and valleys of 
him, shining like art in the moonlight.  

"I need to…  I left my pajamas in your room," he said quietly into her 
chest.

Scully shook her head and squeezed him around his shoulders.  "Oh 
Mulder, you never did have a clue, did you?  Lie back."  Gently, she 
nudged him toward the head of the bed.

"I don't want to sleep here alone," he stated as he settled down 
against the pillows and kicked off his shoes.

"You won't.  It's okay."  Scully stripped off her own jacket and bloody 
blouse, hanging all their dirty clothes on the doorknob.  Then she 
joined him on the bed and stretched out on her side.  He came to her 
immediately, rolling to meet her and making soft snuffling sounds as he 
burrowed his face between her cheek and the pillow.  

He was smaller like this than he seemed during the day, when he would 
tower over her and kill her with his boyish smile.  As he snuggled into 
her now, Scully was able to circle him completely in her arms.  She let 
her hands slide swishing over and around his back and his sides, 
finally able to enjoy his skin, unhindered by flannel pajamas or cotton 
T-shirts.  He seemed to enjoy her caress as much as she was thrilled to 
give it.  Rubbing his rough cheek against hers, he released a tiny sigh 
into her ear as the tension began to seep from his body.

"Scully?" he asked after another moment, his voice muffled by her head 
and the pillow.

"Hmm, Mulder?"

"Sometimes I feel that everything would be better if you and I were 
just the same person.  What does that mean?"

Scully sighed, letting his sweet words sink in.  Then she kissed his 
cheek and let her lips linger against his skin as she spoke.  "I think 
it just means that you have a lot to deal with right now, and you don't 
want to do it alone."

He nodded beneath her lips.  "I want you, Scully," he said, and his 
words were like a thousand angels singing just for her.  

"I'm here, Mulder," she whispered into his ear.  

She longed to hear him voice his desire again and again, but as she 
nuzzled his cheek with her lips and nose, Scully found herself 
hopelessly distracted by the smell of his skin.  Suddenly needing to 
taste him, she gave his cheek a tiny, exploratory lick.  The stubble 
there seared her tongue, and she could no longer help herself.  She 
slid her mouth over to claim that spot, the one which had been driving 
her to distraction for years, just behind his jaw and below his ear.  
She licked and sucked him there until her own ears began to ring, and 
she just barely heard the groan that pushed from his chest.  His hand 
was on her hip, squeezing and releasing urgently.

Scully pulled back to look at his face.  His mouth was open, his lips 
quivering, but his eyes were closed tight, scrunched up and wrinkled 
around the edges.  A sheen of sweat glistened off his brow.  He was not 
breathing.

"Mulder.  Hey," she called gently, brushing the hair from his forehead.  
She blew softly on his sweaty face, and his eyes fluttered open.  "You 
okay?  Come on, Mulder, breathe.  It's okay.  Come on."  

He gave a tiny nod and let the breath he was holding whoosh from his 
lungs.  Scully rubbed his back and chest comfortingly until he settled 
down.  When he had caught his breath, he propped himself up on his 
elbow and stared down at the comforter.  "I'm sorry.  That just felt…  
What you were doing felt…"

"Good?"

"Yes," he said, sighing and then looking up into Scully's eyes.  He 
cupped her cheek in his palm and leaned in to kiss and nibble her lips.  

So much love and heat and power melted into her with his kiss that 
Scully felt little patches of fire ignite all over her body, and she 
needed him to stoke them.  She slid her hand down his arm, enjoying the 
contours of his muscles and the feel of his skin.  Taking him by the 
wrist, she moved his hand from her hip to her breast.  Then she pressed 
his palm firmly to her and waited for him to react.

His lips stopped moving, and a second later he pulled his mouth away to 
breathe heavily against her cheek.  "Scully, that's…  That's out of 
bounds," he whispered.

Scully kissed her way back to his mouth, suckling his lower lip when 
she got there.  "We're changing the rules, Mulder.  Finally.  You can 
touch me wherever you want to now," she told him, pressing on his hand.  
"Do you want to touch me?"

With a grunt, he kissed her again, hard.  When they broke, she loosened 
her grip on his hand, tracing his knuckles with her fingertips.  "Touch 
me, Mulder.  It's okay," she said gently.

He took a shuddering breath and then turned his head so he could watch 
his hand as he began to fondle her breast through her silky bra.   
Scully moaned against his temple at his first tentative explorations.  
He cupped her gently, squeezing and caressing, learning quickly to what 
she would respond.  

As he began to press harder, kneading her rhythmically, Scully went to 
work on his ear.  She traced its edges and then nibbled his earlobe 
until she felt him begin to quiver.  He released a half groan, half 
whimper.  

"Shh," she whispered into his ear.  "Here."  

Gently, she positioned his hand so that his thumb was over her nipple, 
using her own thumb to guide him in little circles over the tight bud.  
She gasped and then sighed as a tickling sensation shot from her breast 
to her center.  Then, as she kissed Mulder again on the mouth, she slid 
her palm onto his belly, rubbing back and forth and then sliding her 
hand up to tangle in the soft hair on his chest.

When Scully raked her fingernails over he chest, he gasped and buried 
his face in her neck.  When she took his nipple between two fingers and 
began to knead it, he finally, finally moaned her name.  "Scuuuully.  
Oh.  Oh."

With a sigh of her own, Scully moved closer to him, sliding her arm 
around to his silky back and pressing her body to his.  She felt his 
lips and his tongue kneading her neck, and desperately needing to feel 
all of him against her, she slipped her thigh between his legs and 
pressed it to his erection.  She was disappointed but not surprised 
when he jerked his hips away with a confused little cry.

He pulled his face from her neck and looked into her eyes.  His own 
eyes were swimming with lust and love and torment.  He tried to speak, 
but words were beyond him now, and all he could do was lie there 
shaking in her arms.

Scully smiled as she caught her breath.  "It's okay, Mulder," she said 
and then kissed him on the nose.  He swallowed hard and then let his 
head drop to the pillow and closed his eyes.  Scully watched him try to 
breathe, and when his breaths evened out and the shaking died down, she 
reached down and ran the backs of her fingers lightly up his shaft, 
over his pants.

He grimaced at her touch, but she took it as a compliment.  "Scuh…   
Scully," he moaned.  "I don't…  Scully."

"Shh, Mulder.  Has anyone ever touched you here before?"

He scrunched up his face and nodded against the pillow.  "The doc…   
The doctors, when they examined me.  But it was not like this.  
Scully."

Scully nodded and kissed his brow.  "Try to relax, Mulder.  The best 
thing you can do right now is relax," she said as she moved her 
knuckles back and forth ever so slightly over him.  She was barely 
touching him, but the groan that he released echoed through both their 
bodies.  He slid his hand to her hip and gripped her tightly.  

"Have you ever touched yourself like this?" Scully asked.

"Y… Yes.  In the shower."

Scully smiled and then gently kissed one of his closed eyes, letting 
her lips brush against his sweet eyelashes.  "Before or after you came 
here?"

"B…both."

She settled her head down next to his on the pillow, scooting close to 
him and softly kissing his lips.  "Can I touch you, Mulder?" she asked 
against his mouth.

"Only you, Scully.  Okay?" he whispered.

"Only me.  Only you and me, touching each other," she agreed as she 
turned her hand over and cupped him firmly in her palm.  Then she 
kissed him, catching his moan in her mouth as she slipped her tongue 
past his lips to dance sweetly with his own.  

When his hips bucked ever so slightly against her hand, she remained 
still, hoping against hope that she could get him to last.  She wanted 
him inside her in the end, but she did not want to take him there 
before he was ready.  He had so much learning and understanding to do 
about this act, and she reminded herself that it was only earlier that 
day that he had learned about the much simpler act of kissing.

Releasing his mouth, she fluttered tiny kisses on his sweet face, 
working her way up from his chin.  When she reached his forehead, he 
seemed relaxed and he was smiling peacefully, so Scully began to stroke 
him very slowly through his pants.

He moaned continually into her neck, and it only took a few strokes for 
him to lose the control to which he had been carefully clinging.  
Instinct took over, and he slid his hand around to cup her rear and 
pull her to him.  

"No, Mulder.  Not yet," Scully said, moving her hand away from his 
penis and pressing firmly on his hip instead.  She wondered if he 
realized what would happen, prematurely, if they took this too far to 
fast.

Nodding, he took a few deep breaths and then mumbled, "How can I…  How 
can I make you feel that good, Scully?"

Smiling gently, Scully reached up and traced his eyebrows and his cheek 
bones with her fingertips.  He was so beautiful.  His eyes were the 
brightest light in the dark little room, and she realized that she had 
never been so comfortable looking into someone, and letting him look 
right into her, as she was with this man.  "I feel great, Mulder," she 
said.  "But let me show you."

Scully left him with a quick kiss to his mouth.  She rolled off the bed 
and then unbuttoned her pants and slid them and her hose and her 
panties down to her ankles.  Mulder watched with hooded eyes.  His 
lusty scrutiny made her heart race as she stepped away from the pile of 
clothes at her feet.  Slowly, she trailed her hand up her stomach and 
her breasts, and then she reached behind her to unclasp her bra.  
Mulder gasped as the garment fell away.  His eyes grew wide, but his 
gaze quickly flicked up to Scully's face.

Shaking her head, Scully looked down at her breasts and then back up at 
Mulder.  He followed her lead, letting his eyes roam over her body.  
When he seemed fixated on her chest, Scully slipped her hands up to her 
breasts and began to squeeze and circle them, showing him how she would 
like to be touched.  

As she began to roll one of her nipples between her fingers,  Mulder 
whimpered, and it was the cutest, most pathetic sound of frustration 
Scully had ever heard.  Grinning, she climbed back onto the bed.  She 
stretched out next to him, on her side, and waited.  She wanted him to 
touch her on his own, to put his hands where he wanted to.  

"It's okay, Mulder," she whispered when he did not move.  A single tear 
seeped from the corner of his eye, but they both ignored it.

He went for her hip first, smoothing his palm over her skin in a tight 
circle.  Scully sighed.  She felt her expectant body begin to relax, 
though the throbbing between her legs grew, sending waves of pleasure 
up through her stomach, towards her heart.

With gentle pressure, he pushed her onto her back and scooted close to 
her.  Then he leaned over to feather tiny kisses on her face as he 
smoothed his hand tentatively over her hips and her stomach.  Her body 
began to tingle madly when his fingers brushed over her pubic hair, but 
she let him continue to rove her as he pleased.  She had never ever 
felt so loved as she did now, with him, as he touched her and kissed 
her so reverently.  

Smiling, she wove an arm around his neck and kissed his lips softly.  
When she released him, he flashed her a tiny smile of his own and then 
turned to watch his hand as he finally slipped it up her stomach to 
curl his fingers over her breast.  He seemed fascinated by the baby-
smooth texture of her skin, tracing his fingertips lightly over her 
breast and her nipple.  Then he flattened his palm over her and began 
to knead her, gently, and she moaned into his ear.  

Without warning, he turned his face back to Scully's and buried his 
mouth in her cheek.  "Does that feel good?" he asked, his voice husky.

"Mm hmm," Scully hummed.  

"How about this?"  He pinched the sensitive bud of her nipple.

"Oh, God, yes," Scully murmured.  She shifted her hips, seeking but not 
finding a way to ease the need between her legs.

"What else, Scully?" Mulder whispered.

Scully swallowed hard.  Her mouth was dry, and she could hardly believe 
where she was and what she was doing.  She could hardly think at all, 
she felt so good.  "Kiss me," she managed to utter.

"Here?" he asked as he gave her nipple a sharp squeeze that sent waves 
of pleasure across her chest and down her arms.

"Mm."  She wrapped her hand around his wrist and tugged.

Mulder nodded slightly, kissed the tip of her nose, and then scooted 
down a bit next to her.  Dipping his head, he kissed and nibbled the 
tops of her breasts, moving slowly down toward the nipple he had been 
fondling.  He glanced up at Scully a bit nervously, but she nodded to 
him and licked her lips, and the uncertainty in his eyes turned quickly 
back to hunger.

He took her breast in his hand, holding it plump and steady as if she 
were a fruit and he was determined to savor his first bite.  When he 
lowered his face, though, he did not ravage her.  He kissed her nipple 
softly with closed lips and closed eyes.  Then his tongue came out to 
trace circles lightly around the bud.  Scully shuddered and then, not 
sure how much more teasing she could take, she arched her back, pushing 
her nipple into his mouth.  His eyes flew open, but he wrapped his lips 
around her immediately.

As he suckled, his tongue swirling around her flesh, a flash of 
conscience snared Scully's heart.  This man happened to be the only 
thing close to a child that she would ever have, and the world she was 
showing him tonight was not one a mother would visit with her son.  She 
thought there was something sickly wrong with the pleasure she felt at 
having him suckle from her breast as she cradled him in her arms.  But 
she pushed her inner voice aside.  This man was Mulder, and she loved 
him, and she would show him she loved him in every way she knew how.  
Now.  For she could not say what tomorrow would bring, and the sound of 
the explosion and of Ten's dying words still echoed in her ears, and in 
her heart.

When she tugged on his shoulder, he ceased his suckling and her nipple 
slipped from his mouth with a little pop.  She watched raptly as he 
flicked his tongue out to lick some of the saliva from her rosy flesh.  
Shuddering, she pulled him up to her and slid her hands into his hair, 
massaging his scalp with her fingertips.  "I love you more than 
anything in the world, Mulder," she told him.

"I love you, Scully," he whispered with feeling.  But his eyes were 
sad, and Scully knew that he had not let go of the tragedy he had 
suffered just three short hours ago.  She was almost certain that he 
would never get over the loss of his brothers, and the thought only 
made her want him more.

Kissing the corner of his mouth, she moved his hand from her breast 
down to the patch of curls below her navel.  He brushed his fingers 
firmly through them over and over, moving lower with each stroke until 
he was cupping her gently between her legs.  He let his fingers play 
over the soft outsides of her lips and the skin over her inner thigh, 
but he did not plunge into her, and Scully thought she was going to 
either cry or go insane.

"Like this, Mulder."  Scully covered his hand with hers, found his 
middle finger and pressed it into her folds.  She was hot and wet and 
needing him.  No matter how he touched her now it would feel exquisite, 
so she nudged him a little, showing him that he was supposed to move 
his fingers and showing him how to gather moisture from the pool at her 
opening and drag it up to spread over her clitoris.  Then she relaxed 
her hand and let him explore again on his own, burying her face in his 
neck so that he would be free to watch what their hands were doing.

He was very tentative and very clinical at first, stroking her and 
poking her simply because he had never felt anything like her before.  
But quickly, probably based on the rhythm of her breathing and on the 
movement of her mouth on his neck, he seemed to realize that stroking 
her clitoris and running his finger around the mouth of her vagina 
caused waves of pleasure to ripple through her stomach and her thighs.

As Scully began to moan into his neck, he turned his face and began to 
nibble on her collar bone.  She buried her hand in his hair, holding 
him tightly to her.  With a little moan of his own, he burrowed his 
free arm, the one he had been lying on, beneath her body.  He wrapped 
her up and cuddled her to him as he continued stroking her.  She 
considered pushing his finger all the way into her, but decided to save 
that for another time.  They were both so close to the edge as it was.

"This feels good, doesn't it, Scully?" Mulder asked shyly and 
breathlessly.  "I can feel your heart racing.  What does it feel like?"

Scully put pressure on his finger, moving him up to rub little circles 
around her clit.  She moaned into his hair, and then she pushed his 
body a few inches away from hers.   "It feels a lot like this," she 
said as she reached down to cup him again through his pants.  He 
grunted at her touch, whispered her name like a prayer, and then buried 
his face in her neck.  

As he continued to rub her, tiny, pre-orgasm contractions began to 
erupt in Scully's center and in her thighs.  Gently, she slipped her 
hand beneath Mulder's and lifted him away from her.

"Scully?" he asked, his eyes dark with worry.

"It's okay, Mulder.  You just made me feel a little too good.  I don't 
want to feel that good just yet.  You'll see," she said, wondering 
briefly if she was shouting to hear herself over the roar in her head 
and the thrumming between her legs.   

Pushing on his shoulder, she rolled him onto his back and propped him 
up against some pillows and the headboard.  As she knelt between his 
legs, Scully ran her hands over Mulder's torso and then she leaned 
forward to nuzzle his chest hair.  It was so soft she wanted to kiss 
every single individual hair.  But instead she kissed and nibbled her 
way over to his nipple, wrapped her lips around the little nub, and 
sucked.  Mulder gasped.  One of his hands was suddenly tangled in her 
hair, while the other ran up and down her bare back.

"Mm, Mulder," she murmured against him.  Then she kissed him right 
above his heart, looked up to give him a big, sloppy, wet, loving kiss 
on his mouth, and then sat back on her heels.  Wiping a tear she did 
not want to stop to explain from her cheek, she reached for his belt 
buckle and began to undo his pants.

Mulder wiggled his hips uncomfortably, and Scully looked up at his 
face.  "I guess this is another rule we're going to break?" he asked, 
running his hand down her shoulder and over her breast.

Scully cocked her head.  "Well, yes, it is.  We don't need clothes 
anymore when we're alone together.  Is that okay?"

"Definitely," he said, slipping both his hands onto her hips.

"Good."  Scully leaned forward and kissed him once more before she went 
back to work on his pants.  Seconds later, she slid them and his boxers 
and his socks from his body and dumped the clothes on the floor.  Then 
she ran her palms up his strong thighs to his straining penis.

She had seen him like this before, quite accidentally, but to touch him 
now was heaven.  He grunted and jerked as she wrapped her hands around 
him.  "Shh, Mulder.  Relax," she said.  She gave him a few light 
strokes, trying not to pay too much attention to his head lest she push 
him too far.  Truly, she wanted nothing but to make love to him with 
her mouth, but that would have to wait as well.  His eyes were hooded 
and his mouth hung open and tension creased his forehead.  He was so 
close.

Releasing him, Scully slid up his body, settling down on top of him and 
wrapping her arms around his neck.  His skin felt amazing against hers, 
finally.  It was better than silk, better than flower petals, better 
than anything.  Overjoyed, she sighed across his pouty lips.  He 
blinked and then, slipping his hands into her hair, he brought her 
mouth down to his and kissed her senseless.  

When Scully began to rock her hips gently against his, he ran his hands 
through her hair and down her back to cup her rear and press her firmly 
against him.  They both groaned at the pressure and the pleasure.  And 
then they both froze.

"Scully.  Scully, I…  Scully," he babbled.  He sounded like he was 
drowning.

Scully blew on his face and then kissed his brow.  "Shh.  It's okay.  
It's supposed to feel good, okay?"

He took a deep but shaky breath, swallowed hard, and then he kissed 
Scully's cheek.  "It does feel good, Scully.  I just…"  He shook his 
head.  "I'm okay."  As if to prove himself, he slid his palms over her 
buttocks, down to the backs of her thighs and then up again.  She 
gasped when his fingertips trailed up the crack between her cheeks, 
over her rectum

"Oh, God, Mulder," she groaned, and she realized with a start that she 
was about to come.  Foreplay had never ever been so good, but it was 
time to be moving on.  She kissed Mulder's lips one last time and then, 
lifting herself up, she positioned him at her entrance and pushed, just 
a tiny bit, so that his tip was inside her.

"Scully, wait!" Mulder's hands clamped down on her waist and he held 
her tightly as she hovered above him.  

Scully startled at his outburst, but recovered quickly.  Looking into 
Mulder's eyes, she saw love and lust but also fear, and she prepared 
herself to go back to just touching and kissing.  "Tell me, Mulder," 
she commanded quietly.

The room was too dark for Scully to see the color of his cheeks, but 
his face tightened into the constipated look he usually wore when he 
was embarrassed.  "Scully, I…"  Gently, he took her hand and then 
stared down at their twined fingers.  "Scully, I love you and my body 
wants to mate with yours so much right now.  But I don't want to make a 
baby yet."

Scully's world collapsed around her.  The room turned black and seemed 
to shrink to the size of a postage stamp.  Single tears rolled down 
each of Scully's cheeks.  He didn't know, she thought.  Mulder would 
have known about her infertility.  Mulder had known, even before she 
did.  Who was this man whose heart she could feel beating beneath her 
palm where it supported her weight on his chest?  Who was this man who 
looked at her with so much love, and who she loved so much she could 
not live without him?  What happened to the man he was supposed to be?  
What happened to their children?  They had all been lost in the black 
hole that was their life, that was the X-files, that was conspiracies 
and abductions and accidents and explosions and dead brothers and 
sisters and daughters falling at their feet.

"There won't be any baby," she said hoarsely.

Mulder finally looked up at her face.  "Why?  Oh, please don't cry, 
Scully.  I didn't mean to upset you," he whimpered.

"There won't be a baby," she whispered again.  

"I don't understand."

Scully felt a sob rising in her chest, and she had never ever been more 
afraid.  She could feel the tears coming, the emotion building, and 
building, threatening to swallow her.  In the distance, she thought she 
heard the sound of screeching tires and crashing metal and breaking 
glass.  

Her heart was in her throat, and her control was slipping so far from 
her grasp.  Squeezing Mulder's hand desperately, she did the only thing 
she could to save herself.  Slowly, with great pleasure and great pain, 
she lowered herself down onto him.  

"Oh, God," she murmured as he filled her.  

When she looked up to see the torment on his face, a terrible guilt 
shot into her heart for taking him this way.  But the guilt washed away 
the instant his eyes shot open.  For his eyes were filled with 
surprise, and love, and ecstasy.  Before she could react, he grabbed 
her shoulders, pulled her down to him, and kissed her.  His kiss was 
hard at first, desperate and reckless, but it settled into sweetness as 
they lost themselves in each other once again.

When they finally broke, Scully turned her attention back to where they 
were joined.  He was big but not frighteningly so, and he filled her 
comfortably now that her muscles had taken the chance to adjust to him.  
Looking into his eyes, she gave him a little squeeze inside her.  He 
gasped and gripped her hand.  She could feel his thigh muscles 
twitching beneath her rear.

"What do I do?" he asked hoarsely.

With a sigh, Scully closed her eyes.  She brought his hand up to her 
mouth, kissed his knuckles, and then she rose up onto her knees, 
letting him slide out to her opening.  Then she slowly pushed back down 
onto him, whispering, "Mulder," as she realized that she was still 
painfully close to orgasm.

"Oh, Scully," Mulder panted.  He slipped his free hand around to cup 
her rear.  "I don't have words for this."

"You don't need them," Scully whispered.  She stroked him one more time 
and then rolled them both over so that Mulder was finally there on top 
of her, sunken into her to the hilt, and she felt alive under his 
weight and safe from the abyss.  

Scully wrapped her legs around his waist and her arms around his back, 
reaching up to rub the back of his neck.  She kissed his shoulder and 
then tilted her face way up to catch his searching lips.

His body was so tense in her arms, and oh God did he feel good between 
her legs.  "Move, Mulder," she said gently.  "Like I was.  Not too 
fast."  She felt him nod against her temple and then he slid slowly in 
and out of her, grunting in her ear.

"Oh, Mulder," Scully began to chant as he moved.  "Mulder Mulder 
Mulder…"  She could feel the pressure building, and there was so much 
pleasure and no pain, and on his third slow but firm thrust, her orgasm 
tore her in two, and she called his name again.

Mulder stopped moving.  "Scu…  Scully, something's happening."

"Shh.  It's just me, Mulder.  It's just me," she said as she contracted 
around him.  Her entire being shuddered and a hot sweat broke out on 
her forehead.  "Keep going, Mulder.  Relax and let it go."  

She reached down and ran her fingernails up his hips, and he began to 
move again.  His face was dark, hovering above her.  She had never seem 
him concentrating so hard, but there was something more there.  A 
little pain twisted in Scully's heart as she recognized the sadness in 
his eyes.  Of course his loss and his despair were still there, even 
now, just as hers were.  

In three more thrusts he was coming, Scully's name ripping from his 
lungs in a torrent of pleasure and release.  He lowered his mouth to 
her shoulder and bit down, hard enough to draw blood.  Scully winced, 
but let him suckle the blood from her shoulder as she slid her hands 
down to his sweet little butt.  She spread her legs further and pressed 
him to her as he emptied himself into her womb.  There would be no 
baby, but she and he were one now, as he had wanted.

As his spasms slowed, he settled his weight down onto Scully.  She 
expected him to relax and begin to doze, but his body remained 
painfully rigid.

"Mulder?' she asked, brushing his hair from his forehead.

He answered her with and anguished wail, and then his back hitched and 
he began to sob into her shoulder.  He cried for a long time, big tears 
that ran hotly down Scully's chest.  She had no words to give him, so 
she held him as tightly as she could, using every muscle in her body.  
Tears were brimming in her own eyes, but she swallowed them.  She had 
him to be strong for now, and she would, as always.

When his crying died down and he began to catch his breath, he seemed 
to realize there was blood in his mouth.  Licking his lips, he pulled 
his face away from her shoulder and gasped at what he saw.  "I'm 
sorry," he whispered, sounding petrified.

"It's nothing," she told him.  She nudged his hip and he pulled out of 
her, settling down on his side.  She rolled to him again and took him 
in her arms, rubbing his back and his neck.  He wrapped himself around 
her as if he still wanted to crawl inside her and disappear.

"It's my fault," he whimpered against her cheek.  He sounded like a 
child, a little boy who was missing a sibling, or siblings.  Sisters, 
brothers -- the loss and the guilt were in him now.  Scully knew she 
should correct him, should reassure him.  The fault was her own, if it 
belonged to anyone other than the smoking man.  But when she tried to 
offer absolution, the words died in her throat, and instead she rocked 
him, and told him she loved him, and called him Mulder until they both 
slipped into sleep.



(End Chapter 14 – End Part 6)