Title: S.N.A.F.U.
Author: Emily Sim
Rating: Mature Adults only
Category: M/O S/O (brief/past) MSR Angst/Mythology AU
Spoilers: Seasons 2 - 6
Disclaimer: Still don't own them and no money changed 
hands, I always put them back when I'm done.
Notes: At the end

Feedback to: xf_emily_sim@yahoo.ca

Summary: What if Kristen Kilar wasn't dead, at least not in 
the traditionally understood definition of dead.

***********

Chapter 1

In the end, he remembered, the blood had made him 
sick. Throw-up puke his guts out sick. But the sex had 
been incredible. It had pulled him back, put him in 
touch with life. It redeemed and validated him, 
breathed life into his tenuous existence. No matter how 
much he'd felt it was a betrayal, how sick he felt 
afterwards, it had served a purpose. 

Then Scully came back from wherever she had been and things 
had become almost normal. As normal as it could be working 
in the basement, chasing nefarious men who refused to put 
flesh to the idea of who and what they were. Life 
began to slowly move forward. Black and white with 
shades of grey slowly gained definition, color, and 
his heart began beating again.  

There were other occasions when his heart had reason 
to stop, but each time there had been an eleventh hour 
solution which was more or less satisfactory, and 
Scully was safe once again. Not without damage, nor 
consequences, but he didn't let himself dwell there. 

She had reminded him far too often that it was her 
choice as well, and he'd taken it to heart. He had no 
other option, to do otherwise would be crippling; the 
guilt would crush him, weaken his resolve, and he 
needed to stay focused. Sometimes his focus was all 
that kept him going, kept his heart pumping blood, 
keeping him alive, if somewhat less sane each day. 
Sanity was flexible, changeable; it came and went in 
degrees according to the situation. 

Even the guilt was useful, and he had enough of that to 
keep him going for years. Scully had gotten a cure -- it 
wasn't a perfect fix, but she was alive. Pfaster was in the 
past, though he was positive his face visited her 
during an occasional nightmare. 

Sometimes the walls were too thin, the television too 
quiet. Despite it all, or in spite of it, things were 
moving forward for them. Slowly, of course -- it wouldn't 
do to break with six years of snail-paced movement. Things 
weren't great right now, they had gotten a little tense 
with each negative result from the IVF, but they were okay, 
and now this. 

_This_ was not okay. 

The woman in front of him was dead. Or used to be dead 
-- or formerly dead -- or 'only very nearly dead', Max 
supplied in his perfect Jewish Bronx accent -- fuck if 
he knew how to classify it. 

The child's hand she held was a surprise - shit - surprise 
was too feeble a word. Shock was better, disaster perhaps 
even more appropriate. Surprises were mostly nice things, 
like getting a bike for your birthday, or a timid, gentle 
kiss good morning when you'd all but give up hope of 
it ever happening. 

This was not the kind of surprise one wished for on an 
ordinary Monday morning. Or on any morning, the small voice 
inside supplied - no Jewish accent to provide comic relief. 
That was somewhat of an understatement. It was a fucking 
catastrophe. That the child was his was unquestionable. 
From the willowy shape of her long limbs to her hazel eyes 
and curly brown hair -- and the woman whose hand she held, 
who was dead but wasn't, was expecting something.  He just 
wasn't quite sure what. The child spoke first.

"Are you my daddy?"  

Mulder groped for the chair behind him, falling 
heavily into it. He had no answer for her question and 
could only watch as the woman shushed her and 
addressed him.

"Mulder."

"Kristen?"

********

Chapter 2

The only thing he found remotely positive in the 
scenario before him was his partner's absence. He 
blessed whatever gods had seen to it that Quantico had 
needed her for the next few days. He felt for the bag 
of sunflower seeds in his pocket, needing to do 
something to fill the silence, gain control of his 
thudding heart, and busy his hands - and perhaps keep 
his mouth occupied until he figured out what he should 
or shouldn't say. He needn't have worried too much; 
where the two adults facing each other were hesitant, 
the child was not. It was further confirmation, he 
noted wryly, of at least one half of her parentage. 

"Why do you work way down here?" One arm swung out to 
indicate his office. "It smells funny."

Mulder's mouth opened and closed, a small squeak the 
only indication that he had at least attempted an 
answer. 

"I know it must be a bit of a shock to you. I tried 
to call, once or twice, when I first found out, but 
didn't know what I was going to say when you answered, 
so I hung up. I realize this isn't the best way to 
tell you, but -" She seemed at a loss for words, or 
perhaps had used up all the ones she could think of 
that applied to the situation. 

"So you thought, what, just show up and give me 
empirical evidence?" He took a deep breath, and 
mindful of the young girl whose hand she held, 
softened his voice.  "I'm sorry, that was uncalled 
for. I thought you were - dead." They both winced at 
the word.

"I can't talk about it right now," -- her head dipped to 
the child -- "but I will explain everything later."

"What's your name?" Mulder moved off his chair and 
kneeled down in front of the girl.

"Hannah." She raised her hand to shake his.

"Nice to meet you, Hannah." He took her small hand in 
his. 

"I have your picture."

Mulder felt his stomach heave a little at her 
admission. "Oh." It was all he could manage.

Kristen pulled Hannah back against her. "I think we've 
been here long enough, for now." She reached into her 
pocket and pulled out a slip of paper. "This is the 
address and the number where you can reach me. We'll be 
home all evening. Can you come by?"

Mulder took the paper offered him, putting it in his 
pocket without looking. "I guess I'd better do that."

"Is seven okay?" She acknowledged Mulder's nod with 
one of her own. "Call me if you can't make it." 

He watched as they turned and left. Returning to his 
desk he pulled the center drawer out as far as he 
could, wiggling it from side to side until the entire 
thing was free. He reached into the cavity created to 
pull the one file that had never made it into the 
black cabinets that lined the back wall. Pulling at 
the silver duct tape, he managed to free the file with 
only a small tear to the plastic sleeve that held it. 
He had some work to do before seven o'clock tonight.

*******

Chapter 3

Skinner put the phone down just as the door opened, a 
plume of smoke preceding the man who entered. In five 
years of dealing with him, Skinner had never managed 
to win an opening gambit, so he resorted to silence, 
waiting him out, forcing Spender to speak first. It 
was a feeble strategy, but he had very few where this 
man was concerned. Strategies only worked when there 
was loss or gain involved, and as far as he could 
tell, Spender cared for nothing; therefore there was 
nothing to lose or gain by playing anyone else's game 
besides his own. 

He kept his eyes on his desk, intent on the report he had 
been reading before Kim had called to announce his guest.  
He heard Spender move closer, the stale smell of cigarettes 
he associated with him filling the air.

"Well, not exactly a welcome now is it?" 
A soft fizzle and a thin line of smoke swirled
as Spender used Skinner's mug and leftover coffee to 
extinguish his butt. 

"I think I've asked you not to smoke in here?"

"That you have, Mr. Skinner, that you have. I've never 
been very good at listening to others."

"Doesn't surprise me. What do you want this time?"

"Nothing, nothing at all. I dropped by to see how 
things were, see if there was anything up with my two 
favorite agents. Just wondering how Agent Mulder is 
doing with his partner busy someplace else."

Skinner looked up to see Spender staring intently at 
him, and wondered if he should be calling down to the 
basement to check on the whereabouts or the safety of his 
two agents. 

"Why the hell do you care about their well-being?"  

"I always care, Mr. Skinner. I have a vested interest 
in their welfare. Perhaps you should be a little more 
concerned about them?"

"I'm a little tired of the cryptic comments, Spender, 
why don't you come to the point and we can both get 
back to work. I have reports due and I'm sure the 
sewer you crawled out of could use scrubbing."

"Tsk, tsk, that's no way to talk when I'm only trying 
to help."

"I don't need or want your kind of help. What the hell 
is this all about? If you've done something to either 
of my agents I'll -"

"You'll what?" Spender moved around the desk. "You'll 
do nothing, Mr. Skinner. Agents Mulder and Scully are 
fine, for now. You might want to check the visitor's 
log. It seems Agent Mulder had an unexpected - guest - 
earlier today." Spender pulled a pack of cigarettes 
from his pocket and made his way to the side door. 
"And there's no need for threats or violence; we both 
want the same thing, we simply have different ways of 
getting it." The door closed softly behind him.

Skinner stood, needing to get out of the office, the 
lingering smell of smoke sickened him almost as much 
as the man's words. He told himself, for the 
thousandth time that the things they both sought were 
not the same, and cursed himself for the one time he 
had tried to deal with this man, exposing his 
vulnerability in the wake of it all. He decided a 
glance at the visitor's log, a call to Quantico, and 
perhaps a visit to the basement was in order.


***********


Chapter 4 

Scully pulled her mask away and stretched her back out 
as best she could. She was almost too tired to do even 
that. She liked her work, but her usual enjoyment of 
the quiet and solitude of the morgue was gone after 
two days of back-to-back autopsies. She missed Mulder, 
his witty comments, bad jokes; she even missed all the 
little noises he made, the ones that usually drove her 
crazy when she was stuck in the same room with him. 
 
She looked up as the door opened and Denise came in. 
Shit, she'd forgotten she was going to have a student 
today. Though they'd needed her here to help with the 
extra bodies from the Dusett case, they also wanted to 
give some of the students a chance to do some on the 
job training. Someone had told her to expect a student 
and though she always welcomed an opportunity to share 
knowledge, she was short on patience today. 

She had asked specifically for Denise Richards, having 
subbed in a few of the classes she took. She was bright, 
focused, and most importantly, didn't spend a lot of 
time talking about nonsense as so many of the women 
she had occasion to run into.  It seemed that the 
standards had either slipped somewhat, or she was 
completely out of touch with what was going on in 
young women's lives today. There was always at least 
one female in the classes she taught who was fixated 
on Mulder; not for his brilliance and ability, but for 
the way he filled out his pants. She hated that. Hated 
fielding questions about his availability. These young 
women failed to see their own actions belying their 
feminist stand. 

There'd been no guarantee that her request would be 
honored, so she was relieved. She couldn't have 
handled someone like Arisita today. Who names their 
kid Arisita anyway? Denise was clearing her throat, 
and she realized the young woman must have addressed 
her while her mind was wandering elsewhere.

"Sorry, Denise. Did you say something?"

"Just hello, Agent Scully, and thanks."

"You can call me Scully, Denise, and you're welcome."

"I'll go get ready and be out in a sec."

Scully waved towards the door over in the corner. 
"Scrubs are in the second cupboard, goggles and gloves 
in the drawers under. I'll get the next body out while 
you change."

Denise smiled and headed for the locker room. Scully 
pulled on a fresh pair of gloves, lowered her mask and 
opened the drawer containing the next victim.  A white 
sheet covered the small body and Scully checked the 
toe tag with the page she had been given listing basic 
information. She was Alicia Thompson, age 17, and 
victim number 11. Dusett liked them young and she 
braced herself. It was hardest when the victim had so 
much life left to live but no longer a chance to do 
so.  

The killings had taken place over the last year, and 
all of the victims were found buried on Dusett's farm 
when Warren Folkes, hired to help in the barns, became 
suspicious of the lumps of soft earth he discovered at 
the end of the property. He wasn't even supposed to be 
all the way back there, and wasn't able to say what 
drew him. It was Dusett's reaction to him being there 
that first aroused his suspicions. 

Dusett hadn't realized he'd hired a first year criminology 
student, hard up for cash and willing to do any kind of 
work to get him through. It was sheer bad luck for 
Dusett. Although the missing women were in the local 
police files, the lack of any connection between them 
had the task force scrambling in different directions 
all year. They never would have suspected Dusett, a 
local farmer, quiet and regular in his church 
attendance. When the police came calling to ask him a 
few questions, based on Warrens' suspicions, he 
barricaded himself in his upstairs bedroom and shot 
himself. 

They would be left with only educated guesses 
as to what drove Dusett to grab young women from the 
surrounding area, brutally rape and then strangle 
them. They had discovered 15 bodies buried in the 
backfield, a couple decomposed so badly, due to the 
unseasonably warm winter, that the only thing that 
would identify them were dental records. 

"Agent Scully?"

"Sorry, Denise." She drew in a breath, pulled the 
instrument table closer, turned the recorder on and 
pulled back the sheet.  When this day was done, she 
was going to soak for a long time in the hottest water 
she could manage, with the bottle of wine she'd been 
saving and her favorite Yo-Yo Ma CD in the player.  Tonight 
would be as good a night as any, seeing as she had two more 
days to go. She made a mental note to pick up at least one 
more bottle on her way home. Those two days would be long 
ones.

***************

Chapter 5

Mulder threw his jacket onto the coat tree and removed his 
holster and gun, making sure the safety was engaged before 
setting them down on the coffee table. He spread the file 
open beside the gun and decided alcohol was most definitely 
needed before he tackled it. He rummaged in the back of his 
cupboard and came up with the whiskey hidden in the corner. 
He hoped it would be strong enough to get him through this. 
He poured a large glass and downed half of it. 

Leaning against the countertop, he allowed himself, for a 
moment, to sink into self-recrimination. He knew it 
wouldn't help, but the temptation to drink his way into 
oblivion and wallow in self-pity was almost too much. He 
made his way back to his couch after refilling the glass.

The photos were spread before him: a snapshot of the 
exterior of the Holy Spirit book shop, a copy of the 
interrogation by Munson and Nettles, a photo of the 
writing from Lore's wall, the autopsy results on Yung, all 
his original notes, and finally a picture of the smoking 
ruins of Kristen's home. 

Four bodies; they said they found four bodies, burnt, 
barbequed, unrecognizable. It was impossible to reconcile 
what he knew with whom he saw today. It was one fucking 
night and she was dead. He forced himself to take a deep 
breath and approach it like any other case. He needed to be 
rational, to keep his emotions in check, think it through 
logically. He implored his fuzzy brain to do what he needed 
it to so badly right now, take one of those intuitive leaps 
and give him an answer. He closed his eyes, opened them 
again and pulled his notes from the file. He had, he 
glanced at the clock, five hours to make sense of it all.

******

Skinner pulled the visitor's log and scanned through until 
he found a notation with Mulder's name. Pete waited 
patiently while the AD studied the notes he had made.

"You say she had a pass?"

"Not exactly a pass. A note. Said it was from Agent 
Mulder." Pete shifted, uncomfortably, Skinner noted.

"Did you keep it? I don't see anything attached to the 
log."

Pete's eyes dropped briefly, and slowly rose to meet 
Skinner's. "Well, not exactly."

Skinner felt his impatience growing. "Explain, 'not 
exactly'."

"Well, Sir, I tried to take it, but she insisted on 
keeping it. She had a little kid with her; I didn't want to 
upset her. I read the note, checked the signatures, and I 
made sure I ran her ID through the database. Same as I do 
all the time."

Skinner wondered how Pete managed to keep his job, but 
on the heels of that thought came the knowledge that he was 
the nephew of one of the Director's underlings. A woman by 
the name of Susan, whom everyone said spent more time on 
her back in the office than she did on her other duties. It 
sickened Skinner to think some employee's performance in 
the sack took precedence over safety. It would also be his 
two agents who would be most affected by a breach in 
security. Not that their enemies needed to go through the 
front door, it was just that sometimes they did, because 
they could. He was sure it was an exercise meant to 
highlight their vulnerability.

"Is there anything else, Sir?"

"No, I think this is quite enough." He allowed his disgust 
for the situation to taint his words but it was wasted on 
the other man. Pete squared his shoulders and returned the 
sign in log to its place on the counter.

Skinner decided to visit the basement office and find out 
why Kristen Kilar was visiting Mulder with a child in tow. 

It was a wasted trip. If he had checked the latest log 
entries he would have seen Mulder's scrawl announcing his 
departure less than an hour ago. Spender's use of the word 
'guest' was becoming more ominous by the minute. He 
returned to his office to grab his jacket.

"I'm going to be out for the rest of the day, Kim."

She looked up and he noted the concern, not quite hidden, 
in her eyes. He had meetings scheduled for most of the 
afternoon, and rarely cancelled. She had seen Spender come 
in, seen his quick departure right after, and he figured 
she knew enough to know the man was connected to the X-
Files agents. 

He decided to soothe her fears. "Something's come up that I 
need to look into right away."

"Should I rebook your last two appointments, sir?" 

"I'd appreciate that, Kim. You could catch up on some of 
the filing; I know it's been busy with all the monthly 
reports due."

"Certainly, sir. Should I contact you in the event I can't 
reschedule one of them?"

"Leave me a note on my desk; I'll get it in the 
morning." He was halfway to the elevator when he paused 
and turned around. "Thanks, Kim." He hoped she knew it was 
for more than the regular work she did. She was very good 
at keeping her mouth shut, which probably kept her as safe 
as was possible given her connection, albeit a tenuous one, 
to the X-Files through him. 

As he exited the parking garage he couldn't contain his 
frustration. "What the hell have you gotten yourself into 
this time, Mulder?" 

**************

Chapter 6


He'd been over the material four times in the past two 
hours. If he didn't find something soon he wasn't sure 
what he would do. He had less than three hours to fix 
this, find the problem. He needed help, he needed Scully, 
but this was one he wouldn't be able to pull her into. 
Enough shit had hit the fan in the aftermath of El Rico and 
Diana. 

They were still walking on eggshells around each other over 
that, but were managing to slowly rebuild. This situation 
would certainly impact the progress they'd made. He was 
hesitant to let the Gunmen know. Even if Scully had managed 
to forgive him, Frohike was still holding out. He made no 
attempt to hide his displeasure, and in fact, took every 
opportunity to let Mulder know how much of a horse's ass he 
considered him. 

The Gunmen might be able to help him trace some activity 
from the main players during the last four years, and that 
fact alone was pushing him towards calling them. Maybe he'd 
be lucky and Byers would answer. Byers was always polite, 
even when he was in full agreement with the other two, 
which Mulder knew he was. A knock interrupted his 
ruminating and he opened his door to admit a serious 
looking Skinner.

"Sir?"

"Agent Mulder."

It was a moment before he thought to move aside and allow 
his AD to enter. 

"Bringing work home with you?"

"I'm always working, sir."

"You always drink on the job?" Skinner indicated the empty 
glass and near-empty bottle that rested beside it. 

Mulder closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "I need 
help. Fast. Badly. This is so fucked up I don't know what 
to do, and I can't call anyone on this one." Whether it was 
the alcohol or his desperation he wasn't sure, but he 
blurted it out before he could think to stop himself. 
"Sir." He added as an afterthought.

"It looks like I may need one of those before you tell me 
what's going on. Should I pick us up more whiskey before 
you tell me what's going on, or have you had enough?"

"I don't need anymore." His laugh was humorless. "You're 
welcome to the rest. You might want a glass instead of the 
bottle; let me grab one, then I'll tell you a story. You up 
for a story?"

"Do I have a choice?"

Mulder's "no" was barely audible. Skinner sunk into the 
chair opposite the couch and waited. 

******

"Well, I must say, when you fuck up, you go for broke, 
Mulder," Skinner said.

Mulder felt drained. He had talked for 25 minutes straight, 
spinning a tale of vampires, the undead, three who were 
four, and blood sports that any sane person would dismiss 
as something from a Twilight Zone episode. Sadly, most of 
the X-Files read as something more sinister than even the 
most horrific of Sci-Fi fare. 

Skinner proceeded to tell him about Spender's visit and 
cryptic words. 

"I don't know. Why would this interest Old Smokey? It 
doesn't concern their precious project; it doesn't even 
include Scully. I thought El Rico flame-broiled most of 
those fuckers."

"Maybe that's the whole point. With all the fallout from El 
Rico, maybe this is their way of driving another wedge in 
there. The first question has to be, is the girl yours?"

Mulder paled. "Sir-"

"Ball park figure of likelihood."

"I don't remember a lot about the actual - event." He 
leaned back and closed his eyes. "I mean, I remember the 
overall -thing- just not a lot of specifics."

"How about the specifics of whether you managed to use a 
condom?" 

At one time it would have been embarrassing, sitting there 
discussing condoms and sex with his boss, but that time had 
long passed. He'd fucked up big time and needed Skinner's 
help.  

"We -" Mulder was back in the darkened room, Kristen on her 
knees in front of him. It sickened him even now to 
remember it, to be able to recall her touch so clearly, 
her lips around him, her hands pulling his ass closer, 
feeling his cock slip down her throat; grabbing her hair 
and pulling her closer, harder. What did that say about 
him? About his relationship with Scully that he could do 
that? He had enjoyed it. He had hated it. She'd known 
exactly where to touch him, how rough to be, how desperate 
he was. 

He missed Scully so much and he had been so numb. He 
remembered pushing Kristen forward, down onto all fours, 
tasting her and then taking her from behind, almost 
violently. He had been harder than he could ever remember, 
had lasted far longer than he should have for a man whose 
last sexual exploit with real flesh had been before the 
Reno years. 

She was no substitute for Scully; he didn't close his eyes 
and pretend he was fucking his partner. He wouldn't soil 
her memory by doing that. It wasn't an act of love; it 
wasn't even about giving pleasure. He was taking, trying to 
make himself feel something again. And he remembered, 
clearly, there was no condom, and he certainly didn't 
interrupt and ask Kristen to find one. 

He opened his eyes to find Skinner still waiting. "Ball 
park figure? I'd say we're batting a thousand with this 
one."

Skinner cleared his throat, "Any chance those friends of 
yours could do a little digging?"

"I don't know if I should ask them." At Skinner's raised 
eyebrow he continued. "Frohike already thinks I'm dog meat 
because of the last case and what happened with Diana. You 
know, they were my friends first; now they side with Scully 
whenever anything happens. Byers might be more tolerant; 
actually, he'd be too polite to say no, and he wouldn't ask 
too many questions." He glanced at the clock. "Only an hour 
left before I have to go meet with her. Shit."

"Call them, Mulder. You can't afford not to, not this 
time."

****************

Chapter 7


Scully pushed the drawer back in and removed her gloves. 
"You did a good job, Denise."

"I sure appreciated getting the chance to work with you; 
everyone wanted to."

Scully couldn't help but feel a little flattered. It wasn't 
often that she was the recipient of any kind of Bureau idol 
worship; that was usually focused on Mulder. "You'll do 
well. You have a keen mind-" 

"- and a strong stomach," Denise finished.

Both women laughed and made their way to the back room to 
shower and change. Denise had been good, and Scully 
realized some of the tension in her shoulders was gone. It 
had been nice to work with someone who had a similar style. 
There weren't a lot of unnecessary words, no jockeying for 
a position of power; in short, none of the posturing that 
usually accompanied most of the men she had shared an 
autopsy bay with. 

Even some of the male students tended to try and pull some 
sort of dominance shit. It was why she usually worked 
alone, or with Mulder as a distant bystander. Despite all 
the forward movement made in many sectors, the FBI was 
still a boy's playground. 

She stepped into the shower and allowed the hot water to 
wash away the chemicals, the smell that permeated the bay. 
She couldn't wait to get home, soak in scented water 
instead of the harsh soap she had to use here, and get into 
her nice soft pajamas, open the wine and - what an exciting 
life you do lead Agent Dana Scully, MD. 

The sick part was, she would be here tomorrow, same place, 
same time, different body. Maybe she should have considered 
something other than working with the dead. It was all she 
seemed to be surrounded with these days: dead bodies, dead 
daughter, dead relationship, dead life. She scrubbed her 
hair, trying to banish her maudlin thoughts. She needed to 
see some light, get out of the dark for a little bit. 

Maybe holing up in her apartment was not such a wise idea 
considering her current state of mind. She needed to laugh. 
If she were closer to Denise's age, and not her supervisor, 
she would be dragging her out for a drink, or just to chat, 
to debrief a bit. Whatever happened to that person, she 
wondered? 

As the water rinsed the soap away, it left some lingering 
bitterness. She missed Melissa, and sometimes she missed 
the life she might have had so much that she resented 
Mulder and the X-Files and where they had brought her. 
Forgiveness was hard, and she knew it was often a daily 
thing, even when it concerned something she had already let 
go of. 

In her weaker moments she'd find she needed to let go all 
over again. There were times she even hated Mulder and she 
berated herself for feeling like that, because she really 
did love him more than she hated him. Most of the time. She 
believed she did get the tattoo she deserved, and sometimes 
she would hold up Philadelphia as an invisible badge of 
honour that only she was aware of. Mulder couldn't see it, 
but it was pinned to the front of her suit jacket all 
through the El Rico debacle. 

It was there when she pulled her badge out, when she signed 
her name to the report. It made an appearance when he 
ridiculed her in front of the Gunmen and made her feel 
foolish for thinking he cared.

Sometimes she wished he could see it, understand what it 
meant, and it would make her feel sick that she could want 
to hurt him, almost as sick as the remembrance of Ed 
Jerse's cock pushing in and out of her mouth. It had been a 
heady feeling at the time, being in control, powerful, 
holding him off until he was begging her for release. Yet 
it was all so empty, and she went to sleep with an ache so 
deep that it spread to fill every part of her. It was about 
her and about Mulder and so many other things. One day 
there would be no more room inside and her feelings would 
all come spilling out. 

She finished up and bade goodbye to Denise, who was already 
on the phone arranging to meet friends. When Denise glanced 
her way, a question in her eyes, there was a brief moment 
when Scully considered giving in and suggesting she join 
them. The thought was quickly gone as her professionalism 
took over. Dana Scully didn't break the rules, at least not 
for causal acquaintances. She left that for the times her 
partner needed her so desperately it was the only way to 
help him. The door closed with a soft thud behind her. She 
wasn't sure who she was at any one time anymore. 

****************

Chapter 8

"Forty-five minutes tops, boys."

"Well good afternoon to you too, Mulder." Frohike moved 
aside and allowed the two men to enter. "Mr. Skinner, come 
in and take a load off."

Byers and Langly nodded from their respective perches. 

"This isn't a social call, boys, and you'll have to forgive 
me for once again debasing myself in your eyes. I'm 
desperate for help and," -- he choked back sudden tears -- 
"there isn't anyone else I can call." His confident tone 
ended in a quiet plea. "Please."

"You look like shit." Mulder knew Frohike hated to be seen 
as soft, but also knew he had a good heart.

"You do look like shit." 

"Fuck you too, Langly," said Mulder as he slapped his 
friend on the back.
 
Byers left his stool to shake hands with Skinner. "Excuse 
their lack of manners. Why don't you let us know what you 
need."

Mulder plunked the file down on the only clear surface he 
could see. "Skinner had a visitor today, as did I. His was 
of the smoking variety, mine was," -- he stumbled over the 
words -- "mine was a different kind of smoking gun."

Frohike's eyebrows rose a notch and Langly's attention was 
diverted from whatever he was watching on his computer 
screen. "You care to elaborate?"

"Later. Right now we need to know if any of these four have 
been active lately?" He pulled two of the pictures out and 
handed the photos and a piece of paper to Byers. "Look for 
employment at blood clinics, labs, any place like that. 
They moved quite a bit when they were active before, so 
look for places where there was high turnover, employees 
who left only to show up at a similar occupation right 
after. I don't know if they'll be using the same names or 
not."

Byers held one of the pictures closer. "Does this have 
anything to do with Agent Scully?"
 
Skinner broke in. "It was something that occurred during 
her abduction, and my visitor this afternoon seemed to 
indicate a connection to his organization, or perhaps 
himself. We're not sure what we're looking for, but I 
think," -- he gestured to Mulder -- "he'll know it when he 
sees it."

"Forty-five minutes? It's going to take longer than that." 
Frohike sat down and cracked his fingers, readying himself 
for a stint at the keyboard.

"Just do whatever you need to. I can," -- Mulder searched 
for the proper word -- "contain it for the time being. I 
may have more information after I meet with someone 
tonight."

"Leave it with us." Byers walked them to the door. "You can 
still visit us, Mulder. Only Frohike's still mad enough to 
consider bodily harm, but he'll leave you alone if we're 
here." 

"Thanks, John. I appreciate it."

"Anytime, Mulder. You take care."

Once outside, the locks being thrown behind them created a 
small ruckus and Skinner couldn't help laughing. "Those 
friends of yours are worse than you, Mulder."

"You've no idea, sir, no idea."

"Listen, Mulder, I'd like to go with you tonight." He put 
his hand up as Mulder's protests began. "I'm not going to 
come in; I'll wait outside, out of sight. We don't know 
what is going on with this group or this woman. Normally, 
you'd have your partner to cover your back. I won't 
interfere unless I have to."

"Okay."

"Okay?"

"Yeah. You want it in writing?"

"No, but I expected a whole lot more argument. Thought I'd 
have to pull rank and all that."

"Thanks, Sir."

"Just repaying a favor, Agent."

****************

Chapter 9

Scully had her gun out before her computer bag slid to the 
floor, before the door closed. She trained it on the figure 
hidden in the shadows.

"I'm armed. Hands where I can see them."

"Well, this isn't exactly the welcome I expected, Scully."

"What the hell are you doing in my apartment, Krycek?"

"You can put the gun away; I'm not going to do anything." 
He moved from behind the couch, hands held up, just as the 
room was flooded with light. He squinted. "Damn, you 
could've warned me."

"Just step away from the couch." As he made his way closer 
to her, Scully kept her gun steady. "Weapon on the floor. 
Go slow, no sudden movements."

He complied, kicking the gun towards Scully. "Bitch." 

"Ankle holster too." She watched as he pulled a smaller gun 
from under his pants leg, and then she carefully picked 
both up, tucking them into her waistband. "Now turn around 
and put your hands on your head."

"Fuck, Scully, I'm not here to shoot you. If that was my 
intent I would've had you before you got through the door 
and pulled your gun."

"Just do it."

He turned, hands now in position as Scully made a cursory 
check for another weapon. Satisfied, she flipped the safety 
on her gun. "Okay, you can turn around now, but no sudden 
movements and keep your hands where I can see them."

"This isn't where you sucker punch me, is it?"

"What do you want?"

"My, you're certainly civilized about the whole thing; do 
you always follow the rules? Oh wait, it's Mulder who 
breaks the rules. You know what your problem is, don't 
you?"

"Get to the point, Krycek. I don't have all night."

"Predictable. You always do what's expected of you, 
Scully."

"The point?"
 
"Tell me, have you spoken to Mulder today?"

"So help me, Krycek, if you've laid a hand on him-"

"Interesting choice of words, but it's not me you have to 
worry about."

"Look, Krycek, this is getting tiring, say what you came to 
say."

"I'm only here because sometimes even I think they go too 
far. You need to tell him to dig a little deeper. He's 
going to be given something, and all is not as it seems." 

Krycek moved quickly, pulling a small gun from his jacket 
sleeve and training it on her.  "Should've used the cuffs, 
Scully.  You can keep the little one, I never did like it 
much, but this one is my baby." He retrieved his Glock from 
her waistband before she could respond. "Give him a call, 
Scully, don't let him put you off because he's avoiding 
things he finds distasteful."

He was gone. As she spun around to follow him through the 
door, cocking her gun, she found herself aiming at nothing 
but air. The door at the end of the hallway slammed shut. 
She didn't know someone could run that fast. She returned 
to her apartment, latching the door behind her. Reaching 
for the phone to call Mulder, she noticed a manila envelope 
on the table. Opening it revealed several papers and photos 
clipped together. A note, which she assumed was from 
Krycek, was attached to the front of the package. 

    "The shaft of the arrow had been
    feathered with one of the eagle's
    own plumes. We often give our enemies
    the means of our own destruction."       
 
"Oh Mulder, what have you gotten yourself into this time?"

****************

Chapter 10

Mulder pulled up across the street from the address on the 
paper, a sprawling colonial home in Old Town Alexandria, a 
few miles from the Pentagon. That fact was not lost on him, 
adding one more facet to the mystery of Kristen's 
reappearance and the child with her. Coupled with Spender's 
visit to Skinner's office, the entire situation was 
beginning to look suspicious. 

"That's an expensive home, Mulder." 

"That it is, Sir, that it is. Big too. There must be four 
or five bedrooms."

"What do you know about her family?"

"We didn't exactly trade family histories." 

"No, I guess you didn't."

"For the record, sir, I've never done that before or since. 
It was," -- he groped for the right word -- "a difficult 
time for me."

"I'm sure it was."
 
"I never meant to hurt Scully."

Skinner shuffled uncomfortably in his seat, clearing his 
throat several times. Mulder was about to ask him if he was 
okay when he spoke. "No one means to hurt the other person. 
I never meant for Sharon to get hurt during that whole 
business with -- what the hell was that thing?"

"Succubus. It was a succubus."

"Yeah, well as hard as it was at the time, working through 
it brought us to a much better place."

"Is this the adversity makes us stronger speech? Because if 
it is, I've had enough misfortune that I could petition the 
Pope for sainthood."

"You know that's --"

"--not what you mean. I know, it's just I get tired of all 
the shit sometimes. Other guys, they go, get laid, go home 
to their girlfriends, their wives, and life goes on. Me, I 
get laid once in a fucking decade and she gets pregnant, or 
claims to. That still hasn't been proved. And let's not 
even go into the 'I saw her burn up' part."

"Mulder--"

"Or the fact that I'm single and shouldn't feel guilty."

"Single? Are you sure about that?"

"It's complicated."

Skinner's 'right' was muttered

"Sir, Scully and I--"

"Don't worry, Mulder. I know your behavior is beyond 
reproach, at least the personal aspects of it, and you are 
both professional with regard to your work. I'm also not 
stupid or blind. So don't bother."

"I've never told Scully any of it. She's never even seen 
the file."

"Is this the one that you kept under the drawer?" At 
Mulder's surprised look he continued, "I'm not as 
unobservant as you think. And no, I didn't snoop. That 
drawer always catches slightly when you push it in and out. 
You've just gotten used to it, but to anyone who was 
watching closely, it looked like something was stuck under 
there."

"Skinner -- you really were something other than a pencil 
pusher at one time."

"Don't push it, Mulder."

"Yeah, well, time's up. Wish me luck."

"Do you still think you should go in on your own?"

"Yeah, if it's a set up I don't want to tip our hand. Give 
me a call in fifteen, and if I don't answer, you can call 
in the Cavalry."

Skinner nodded and Mulder watched him settle into his seat, 
cell phone at the ready.

As he made his way across the street, Mulder found his 
thoughts centered on the one thing he hadn't wanted to 
think about too much: the impact this would have on Scully. 
The aftermath of El Rico was still tangible, in particular 
Diana continued to be a point of tension. Her whereabouts 
were still a mystery. She had disappeared as quietly and 
furtively as she had arrived. 

He didn't know how much Scully knew about the relationship 
he and Diana once had. He hadn't shared very much, 
reluctant to broach the subject. Rumors had flown following 
Diana's departure for Europe; he recalled hearing 
everything from Diana sleeping with a director to him 
sleeping with the same director. The water cooler crowd had 
a field day with it. The current situation might even 
garner more attention once it made it to the rumor mill. 
There was no doubt in his mind that it eventually would.

He took a deep breath and knocked on the door.

********

Chapter 11

The phone call she'd been about to make momentarily 
forgotten, she set the note aside and took a deep breath, 
fighting the urge to have a quick glance through all the 
items. Krycek had probably arranged them in order, and that 
could be important. She needed to be patient and review 
what she'd been given the way it had been ordered, 
methodically, like any of their cases. She set aside two 
smaller envelopes and went through the papers first. 

The first few were photocopies of a case file, but not one 
she recognized. She spent a few moments becoming familiar 
with the principle players, noting that the dates coincided 
with her missing time and that one name, Kristen Kilar, 
figured prominently throughout. There were copies of notes 
on LAPD letterhead from Detectives Nettles and Munson and 
various reports from experts pertaining to the victims. She 
noted that a forensic dentist had been called in, a Dr. 
Jacobs, and she wondered if it was the same man who had 
spoken at Quantico for one of her courses. 

Turning a page brought her to Mulder's familiar scrawl, 
five pages worth. His notes, detailed and precise, laid out 
a story that she found both unbelievable and perfectly 
feasible at the same time. When she reached the end, 
skimming what she could for the sake of time, she realized 
something was missing. Reading back over the last page and 
a half, she realized the detail she'd come to expect from 
her partner was absent. It was almost as if -- her heart 
sank as she pulled the first picture out from a separate 
envelope.

It was a clear shot of Mulder and a woman she assumed was 
Kristen, locked in a passionate embrace. The next two 
pictures moved the opening shot a little more towards an 
intimacy she knew formed part of the missing details. She 
was pretty sure what she would see in the rest of the 
photos, and decided to set them aside for the time being. 
She couldn't afford to let herself become more emotional 
than she already was. Besides, pictures had been doctored 
or even manufactured before. She wouldn't put it past their 
enemies to try something like this.

The rest of the papers were medical reports. In place of 
the patient's name was a series of numbers, and the reports 
themselves seemed routine: blood pressure, heart rate and 
temperature readings. They varied a little, but nothing 
that would indicate an illness, in fact, this patient 
seemed perfectly healthy. She was about to dismiss them as 
superfluous until she came to the last two pages and 
discovered the reason for the readings. Whoever this woman 
was, she had been pregnant. 

She went back through the pages, determined to have a more 
careful look at them. There were eight reports, arranged in 
order by month. If it were possible for her heart to 
further shatter, it did. The reports began in December and 
ran through to August. The last paper she held gave the 
essential birth details of the baby girl born that month. 
She felt tears threaten as she remembered Emily and an 
empty coffin. She took a deep breath and steeled herself. 
Even if it was about more children like Emily -- especially 
if it was about Emily -- she needed to be level headed. She 
didn't want to begin to think about the dark haired Kristen 
and Mulder and what it all might mean. 

She picked up the second of the two envelopes that were 
included and opened it. She pulled out a PCR she assumed 
belonged to the mother, based on the same series of numbers 
written in the corner. The numbers used to identify the 
woman were familiar to her. She took a deep breath, closed 
her eyes and cleared her mind. The numbers meant something. 

It didn't take her long to figure it out, and she felt 
foolish for missing such an obvious clue the first time 
through. She picked the up the phone to call her partner. 


****************


 Chapter 11B



The first thing that struck Mulder, as Kristen led him into 
her home, was the understated elegance. It was in direct 
contrast to her home in California. Where that house had 
been sparsely furnished, and had seemed almost clinical, 
this was full of rich, warm earth tones. Underneath 
colorful Indian rugs the floors were wide plank wood, maple 
he guessed, noting the clear, almost spotless grain. A 
staircase curved its way to the second floor and a hallway 
that stretched in both directions. 

As she ushered him into a sitting area he took in the 
artwork gracing the walls. Most seemed to be originals, or 
first run prints, he noted, as he got closer. A baby grand 
piano filled one corner and the tables were dotted with 
pictures of Hannah in varying stages of babyhood and as a 
toddler. He chose an overstuffed armchair and waited until 
she had settled herself opposite him in the loveseat.

"Can I get you anything?"

"No, thanks, I'm fine." He cringed a little, hearing 
himself echo Scully's infamous line; he hated the words, 
and true to her meaning, he was far from fine.

Kristen twisted her hands nervously. "I guess you might 
have a few questions."

"Uh, yeah, a few." Or more, he finished silently. The place 
was giving him the creeps. The initial feeling of warmth 
and coziness was fading. The house seemed devoid of 
anything related to a child. Aside from the pictures he 
could see no evidence that a child lived here. He didn't 
expect the sitting room to be littered with toys, but there 
was bareness to the place.

"You sure you don't want anything? Tea, coffee?"

"I'm sure. Where's Hannah?"

"In bed. I thought it might be easier."
 
"Oh."

"I thought about calling so many times, but --" She 
shrugged her shoulders. "I never knew how to tell you."

"So, what -- you thought just showing up with her at my 
office was the way to go?"

"I guess it wasn't the best way to handle it. It didn't 
seem like such a stupid idea at the time. I'm sorry to have 
sprung this on you."

"How did it happen?" 

"_How_?"

"I saw the fire, saw the reports from the fire-chief. Four 
bodies. One of them yours."

"I tasted his blood, the blood of a believer, the Father."

"And what, you were burnt up but you came back pregnant?"

"The fire didn't kill us, it couldn't."

"And who did you kill? Wasn't that part of the ritual?"

"Myself."

He closed his eyes, assaulted by images of a burning house 
and naked flesh. He remembered sitting on the hillside 
afterwards, the sharp tang of smoke in the air, the haze on 
the horizon, Scully's cross a heavy weight against his 
throat.

"What do you want from me, Kristen?"

He watched her hesitate, struggle to answer.

"I guess I want our daughter to have a home."

"A home? You mean with you and me? That kind of home?" 

"She needs a home." 

Her words were like nails on a chalkboard, scraping his 
tenuous hold on the conversation. His focus narrowed and he 
watched Kristen lean over to retrieve something from the 
drawer in the coffee table. Her hair was almost the same 
length, maybe a little shorter, and she was still thin. 
When she turned her head slightly, exposing her neck, he 
had a flash of remembrance. Trailing kisses down to that 
little spot -- his hands tightened into fists. The small 
mole was gone. 

Mulder trusted his instincts, and right now he was getting 
the distinct impression that something was off. Kristen 
seemed stiff, uncomfortable with herself and her 
surroundings. The timing of Skinner's encounter with 
Spender and Kristen's appearance in the X-Files' office was 
too much of a coincidence and he was alert to any nuance, 
any clue that would help throw light on the situation. 

She sat up, unaware of his growing unease, setting a photo 
album on the table. "I kept a record, just in case."

Mulder stood, ignoring the proffered book. Movement always 
helped clear his head. As he passed by the large archway 
that led into the hallway he caught sight of himself in an 
oval mirror. It was beautiful, the frame an ornate silver, 
probably an antique like many of the other pieces in the 
home. As he turned back towards the sitting area he 
mentally kicked himself for missing it. The mirror 
shouldn't be there, not if Kristen believed herself one of 
the immortals. There had been no mirrors in her Californian 
home. 

From inside his coat pocket came a faint ringing. "Excuse 
me. My cell." He pulled it out and made his way into the 
hallway. 

"Mulder."

"Scully?"

"Mulder, where are you?"

"Uh, this isn't a good time."

"Mulder, I need to see you."

"I'll call you back." He disconnected and turned his phone 
off. 
 
******************

Chapter 12

Scully's shock was quickly replaced by anger and then 
growing concern. Her repeated attempts to call Mulder's 
cell were met with an annoying recording that switched to 
voice mail. She had no better luck with his landline. After 
four rings his answering machine kicked in and she was 
resigned to leaving a message.  Although it wasn't the 
first time he had been too busy to take a call, he didn't 
normally turn his phone off. This, in addition to the drop 
off from Krycek, had her on high alert. 

She paced anxiously, wondering if she could call Skinner 
without it becoming an all points bulletin, and then 
dismissed that idea in favor of calling on the Gunmen. 
Things had been less strained with them since the afternoon 
she had gone to them with her request to look further into 
Diana's business. It had been awkward; she knew their 
loyalty lay with Mulder and he had seen her request as 
intrusive. But what they had uncovered had convinced them, 
if not Mulder, that Diana wasn't completely clean. 

Hearing Diana's romantic connection to Mulder had unsettled 
her last May. In light of the IVF she and Mulder were 
attempting now, the contents of the report left her 
wondering if she really knew her partner as well as she 
thought she did.  She stuffed the pictures and documents 
back in the envelope, and grabbed her bag and gun. This was 
too important to let a little awkwardness get in the way. 

It was Langly who opened the door, a nervous smile on his 
face. "Agent Scully."

"Langly." 

"What can I do for you?"

"You could start by letting me in."

He blushed and stepped aside. "Sorry, come on in."

"If it isn't the delectable Agent Scully." Frohike 
materialized from one of the back rooms. "To what do we owe 
this pleasure?" The words and tone were all Frohike, but 
Scully noticed his hands clenching. He was nervous about 
something.

"When was the last time any of you saw Mulder?" 

Bingo. She'd hit something as all three began glancing at 
each other, the floor, anywhere but at her.  It was Byers 
who finally stepped forward.

"Why don't you tell us what's going on first."

She tossed her purse onto the table and pushed an envelope 
into his hands. "I had a visitor, the one armed variety. He 
left this for me." 

Langly and Frohike moved close to Byers and soon all three 
were huddled around the table, the reports and pictures 
pulled out. In deference to Scully they had only glanced at 
the first two pictures before setting them aside, face 
down. She had nothing to do but wait for them to read 
through everything, so she took a seat, the events of the 
last few hours, the last few months, rolling through her 
mind. 

Clearly there were parts of Mulder's life she was in the 
dark about. It wasn't that unusual, there were things in 
her own life she hadn't shared with him, but whereas Jack 
and Daniel were long gone, Mulder's past seemed to always 
be reasserting itself in his life. Seeing him through the 
window, tenderly holding Diana's hand ten months ago had 
broken something in her.  

She could probably blame hormones for some of the jealousy 
she was feeling now. They had one more attempt left with 
her ova, and the process to get her body ready to receive 
the embryo implants had begun. Mulder still hadn't shared 
much about Diana, and she wondered if he still thought of 
her romantically. 

She considered that he might be having second thoughts 
about his contribution in her attempt to get pregnant. 
Mulder was too gracious to back out of something once he 
had committed, but a child wasn't quite the same as a 
promise to pick up the pizza and bring the beer. She didn't 
know how they could have that conversation when they hadn't 
managed to have any other regarding the invitro. They were 
masters at avoiding anything that could lead to a 
discussion about their relationship. 

In some ways, her attempt to conceive was the most 
impulsive thing she had ever done. After spending time 
investigating the possibility with Dr. Parenti, she had 
approached Mulder. For her there was no question about who 
she wanted to father her child. What the two of them hadn't 
gotten around to was the discussion regarding the rest of 
the details involved. Each time he tried to bring it up, 
she deflected it. It was her way of shielding herself from 
the failure. And two failed attempts had only reinforced 
the wisdom of that logic.  

For the last three months she had endured being poked and 
prodded, Dr. Parenti taking additional time with this last 
attempt. She was doing everything she could to help make 
this effort successful. 

Her near-fatal abdominal injury had interrupted her 
treatments. When Kersh threw her together with Peyton 
Ritter, delaying the last treatment she had been upset. In 
hindsight, she was grateful. Had she kept her appointment 
that month, and had it been successful, she would have lost 
her child. As it was, Parenti was somewhat concerned that 
the injury was still too recent to be continuing the IVF. A 
pregnancy could put additional stress on her recently 
healed tear, but weighed against the fact that her eggs 
weren't in the best condition for the procedure to begin 
with, she felt she couldn't wait. She was willing to risk 
it.

The risk was one more good reason to avoid the topic with 
Mulder. After El Rico they had both retreated to lick 
wounds, separately of course. Delivering Leroy, Jr. in 
Florida had intensified her desire for a child and she had 
let Mulder know she was ready to make the last attempt. If 
he had known about Dr. Parenti's concerns, he wouldn't have 
allowed her to go through with it, at least not so soon. 

She pulled herself from her thoughts as the three men still 
huddled around the table. One of the printers was spitting 
out sheets of paper and Byers moved over to retrieve them. 

"Agent Scully?" Byers motioned for her to join them. 

"What can you tell me?" She saw Langly and Frohike slink 
back, deferring to Byers.

"He came here earlier, asking for our help with locating 
these people." He held the copies of the file up. "They're 
a group of three individuals who seem to have an appetite 
for blood. I don't know if Mulder ever determined that they 
really were vampires or not. One of the women, the one 
referred to as the Unholy Spirit, is actually Marissa 
Whitehead. She also goes by Raven or sometimes Starr. The 
two men, John Caseville and Mark Sinclair, are known as The 
Son and The Father.  We've found evidence that all three 
have been together in various cities over the past few 
years. They weren't hard to find once we discovered the 
first location."

"Marissa isn't the one in the pictures, is she?" She tried 
to keep her voice steady.

Frohike dropped his eyes and Langly pulled one of the 
printed sheets close to his face. Byers cleared his throat 
and the compassion in his eyes almost did her in. "No, her 
name is Kristen. She was on the fringes of this group back 
in 1994."

It was confirmation that she had it right the first time 
she read the report. "Is that who Mulder's with?" 

"He's trying to figure out what she wants."

Scully took a deep, cleansing breath. "The medical 
reports," -- she moved in closer and pointed to the sheaf 
of papers -- "did you connect the dates?"

All three men looked at the line she pointed to their soft 
gasps breaking the silence as the significance of the 
numbers became apparent. 

"Holy shit." Frohike stepped back, slapping his head. "How 
did we miss that the first time?"

Scully began gathering the papers and shoving them back 
into the manila envelope. "I think he may be in trouble. 
Krycek left a note, 'all is not as it seems,' or something 
to that effect. There seems to be a connection with Spender 
or someone in the Consortium. You need to get word to 
Mulder that we have this."

"Skinner is with him."

"Skinner?" Her envelope stuffing was forgotten for a 
moment. "He came here?"

"Scully," -- Frohike put his hand on her arm -- "I'm sure 
he'll look out for Mulder."

"Yeah, and who's looking out for Skinner?" She grabbed her 
bag and, tucking the envelope under her arm, made her way 
to the door. "If he calls tell him --" She fumbled with the 
locks until Frohike leaned around her and deftly undid 
them. "Tell him -- to turn his phone on." And that I'm 
worried, she finished silently. 

*******************

Chapter 13

"Agent, when you tell me you'll be in contact with me in 
fifteen, I expect you to answer the call. I was this 
close," -- Skinner indicated a half-inch spread between his 
thumb and forefinger -- "to calling for back up."

Mulder slid behind the wheel and turned to face Skinner. He 
was leaning against the passenger door looking decidedly 
pissed off. "What?" 

"You turned your phone off, Mulder."

"Scully called at an awkward moment and I didn't want to 
risk her calling back. I'm sorry,"

"How the hell was I to know that?"

"What did you expect me to do?"

"I expected you to follow the script. I'm surprised 
Scully's stuck with you so long if this is normal procedure 
for you."

"Scully would usually be with me."

"If you want my help with this you are not to do that 
again, clear? I don't care what your excuse is. Being 
unable to contact you in this situation was dangerous. I 
repeat, _do not_ do it again."

Mulder swallowed the cheeky comeback he had ready and 
turned back to start the car, his 'yes sir' barely audible 
over the engine starting up.  

Skinner fastened his seat belt as Mulder drove. "So, what 
did you find out?"

Mulder drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. "She was 
missing a mole."

"A mole?"

"Yes." His laugh was humourless. "This is one time I'm 
thankful for an eidetic memory." He recalled other times it 
was a curse, remembering details he'd sooner forget. "She 
had a mole right about here." He indicated a spot below his 
ear. "It wasn't there."

"What are you thinking it means?" 

"I'm thinking -- what I'm thinking is another one of those 
farfetched theories of mine that you and Scully usually 
have fun shooting holes through."

"Mulder, you'd be surprised how far I've come in keeping an 
open mind with regard to your ideas." 

Mulder snickered. "Well, what if Kristen did die? We've got 
two paths we can follow -- no, maybe three. She could be 
exactly who she says she is; some sort of back from the 
dead vampire who I managed to get pregnant, who did not 
lose the baby while she was between human and vampire 
states. I'm having a hard time with that one considering 
the silver framed mirror in the hallway."

"Silver mirror?"

"Vampire 101, no silver or mirrors, and certainly not 
together."

"You're a wealth of information, Mulder."

"Vampires exist, but maybe not in the way Hollywood 
presents them, Count Dracula and all that.  If you look 
through that file you'll see the reports from Dr. Browning 
and the guards who found him, regular people who saw John's 
burnt body.  I'm still not convinced that there isn't a 
psychological reason for his reaction to light, but the 
reality is, the man was alive and well a day later. I saw 
him."

"I think you'd better give me your second idea."

"Well, there's an outside chance 'Kirsten' could be a 
plastic surgeon's creation, a relative of Kilar's who 
thought she'd try and get something out of me. That doesn't 
seem likely, but it's a possibility."

"What could she possibly get out of you?"

Mulder cleared his throat and shifted uncomfortably. He 
hated talking about the Mulder assets. It was embarrassing; 
the money was dirty, blood money, and he hated even 
acknowledging it. "I have a little money."

"So what, she fashioned herself after a dead woman to grab 
a few dollars?"

"I said that it wasn't likely. I'm more inclined to think 
we're dealing with my third idea."

"Which is?"

Mulder, stopped for the red light, leaned his head back 
against the headrest and closed his eyes. "A created being, 
a clone or something similar, something we haven't seen 
yet. It would make more sense than the other two and it 
would explain the missing mole. It may have been a detail 
they overlooked." The car was moving forward again, the two 
men silent as both took in the enormity of Mulder's last 
suggestion.

Skinner broke the silence, "What do they hope to gain?  I 
think we need to come at this from that angle. Spender has 
something to do with this that we're not seeing. Where does 
the child fit?"

Where indeed did a little girl with hazel eyes and curly 
brown hair fit into his life? To say he'd never thought 
about being a father wouldn't be the truth. He'd thought 
about it often in the last three months. But it was non-
descript, blurry, fuzzy around the edges and not quite 
real. Actually having flesh and blood presented in the form 
of a little girl was frightening. He opened his eyes to 
find Skinner twisted in his seat, staring.

"Got an idea for me here, Mulder?"

"That's the one piece that keeps throwing me. I don't know 
what they intend with her. I don't even know if she is or 
isn't what she seems.  I've arranged to spend some time 
with her tomorrow. I'm hoping I can get a hair or something 
we can run DNA on.  Maybe that will help me determine what 
she is."

"_What_ she is?"

"Emily, sir, she might be another Emily."

"Shit."

Mulder parked the car in an open space not far from the 
front of his building. "How do I keep this from Scully?" He 
stepped out of the car, then leaned against it as Skinner 
made his way around. "I'd like you to keep it quiet, not to 
say anything to her until I've had a chance to figure out 
what to do. This really complicates things between Scully 
and me."

Skinner nodded slowly. "I'll give you a chance, but Mulder, 
she deserves to know the truth."

"I just want to know a little more about what I'm up 
against here." Mulder pocketed his keys. "I'm not sure 
which would be worse for her, another Emily or a new baby 
announcement for a three and half year old."

Skinner pulled his car keys out. "I'm going to check up on 
a few things. Maybe I can find out a little more about what 
Spender's been up too."

"I'll give the boys a call, maybe head over after I grab a 
few things. Call me if you get anything."

Skinner made his way down the street to his car.

"Oh, and sir?" Mulder waited for his boss to turn around. 
"I'll be taking a couple of days, just until I sort some 
things through."

Skinner nodded and continued on while Mulder, shoulders 
drooping, made his way to his apartment. 

He had a busy night ahead of him. 

*****************

Chapter 14

Scully sank wearily onto her couch, thankful she had chosen 
a piece of furniture that was comfortable as well as 
functional. 

Throughout the drive home, sheer willpower kept her eyes 
dry and focused on the road, in spite of the frustration, 
anger, and hurt that had been threatening to spill over.  
Her throat seemed to be sporting a permanent lump. Now, 
quietly, she gave in to her emotions. She rationalized that 
it was useless to continue fighting against the chemically 
induced surge of hormones swimming in her system.  

So many things were crowding her mind, vying for first 
consideration. She had never felt so out of control, so 
alone. It was essential that she contact Mulder, but his 
phone was still turned off. She needed to know what Krycek 
was doing mixed up in all of this, but his number wasn't 
exactly listed with information. 

It was important to figure out who Diana, and now Kristen, 
were to Mulder, and hell though it was, she needed to know 
what she herself meant to her partner. How many other 
Diana's and Kristen's were waiting in the wings to make an 
appearance? The whole IVF process had complicated things 
more than ever. She and Mulder had shared the most intimate 
of all things when they exchanged body fluids, albeit done 
clinically in the most detached manner possible. 

She didn't know how she could sit down and discuss 
parenting or baby names with him when he was more than 
sperm in a cup to her, but she had no idea what she meant 
to him. She used her sleeve to dry her tears, mentally 
telling herself she was done, had wallowed long enough. She 
had work to do and a partner to locate. She put the kettle 
on and pulled an herbal tea out of the jar. First, she 
needed to settle her churning stomach. 

******

Smoke wafted towards the ceiling, pulled by the fans 
installed for just this purpose. The room was dark; the 
lights dimmed in an effort to create anonymity, though all 
the men gathered together knew each other intimately. They 
were focused on Spender who stood in the centre of the 
room, his words slowly rolling over the group like the puff 
of exhaled smoke accompanying them.

"It is of no consequence." 

A large man standing on the fringes spoke up. "What of the 
child?"

Spender turned to address him. "Strughold, you worry far 
too much. They are all expendable."

"And you are a fool to think we do not know what you are 
doing. Tell us, Spender, where is Krycek tonight?"

Spender took a long, slow drag of his cigarette. "I haven't 
heard from Alex. Perhaps you have?"

Strughold turned to fully face Spender. "I'd be careful, if 
I were you, who you send on your errands. Everyone has a 
price."

"You speak in riddles and your threats are empty. I'm well 
aware of the fluidity of Alex's allegiances. It is better 
to keep one's enemies close." Spender lit another 
cigarette.

"Scully has the file and the PCR's." 

The other men appeared to shrink back, away from the 
quarrel, though none of them moved.

If Strughold had been looking for a reaction from Spender, 
there was none to be had.  

"This can be used to our advantage, can it not?" Spender 
asked. "You're short sighted when it comes to these two. We 
have several ways we can play it. You are forgetting the 
element of control this situation gives us."

"And you are overly sentimental. You protect these two at 
what cost to the project? For whose benefit? We have given 
you far too much leeway. I say it's time to remove the 
threat."

"Sentiment has nothing to do with it." Spender's response 
was quietly spoken. "You would awaken a giant with such a 
foolish ploy."

"The doctor is ours, is he not?" The refined English accent 
was like a cooling balm.

Spender turned towards the voice; surprised the Englishman 
would wade into the fray. Strughold had been playing his 
own game for the past year and the rest of the men kept 
their allegiances close to their chests.  He was startled 
to find a crumb of support from this man. Spender suspected 
he, along with Strughold, were behind the El Rico set up 
that would have seen him burnt along with some of the other 
members. 

"Indeed, he is ours. You propose using him for what 
purpose?"

"You said it yourself; we've several ways to play this. We 
need to choose the one that will bring about our aims while 
preventing further interference."

From the corner, a tall man spoke, his face hidden in the 
shadows thrown by the dim lights. "There is only one course 
of action that will accomplish this. Do we have consensus?"

There were murmurings through the room as consent was 
given.

Strughold leaned back in his chair, softly chuckling, a 
sound that was grim.  "The doctor, then. 
Make sure he knows that failure is not an option." He 
turned steely eyes on Spender. "Do it yourself."

Spender made his way to the door, turning to face the group 
before he left. "But of course." 

The door closed behind him with a soft swoosh. 

**********



Chapter 15A


There was an envelope waiting for Mulder when he got back 
to his apartment. Wearily, he picked it up by the edges, 
mindful of fingerprints, from its resting place against the 
door and stepped inside. There was nothing marked on the 
envelope, but he grabbed a latex glove just in case. He 
looked guiltily at the flashing light of his answering 
machine, knowing the calls were from Scully. He had his 
phone turned off still, not willing to risk a call from 
her.  

He sank onto his couch and carefully pulled the flap open 
and withdrew a set of pictures. His heart fell when he 
recognized Kristen and himself in the photos. Shit. He 
shuffled through the stack, sixteen in all, relieved to 
discover none showed anything more intimate than passionate 
kissing. It was a little unnerving to realize that no part 
of his life, no indiscretion was far from someone's 
watchful eye. He threw the latex glove on the table. There 
was no way he was taking these in to have Danny dust them 
and he doubted there would be prints found anyway.  These 
guys were too careful. 

He shoved the pictures back into the envelope. He had work 
to do but needed a moment to organize his thoughts, to try 
and figure out what he would or could tell his partner. If 
he didn't call her soon, he risked her coming over and he 
didn't think he could face her just yet. He was not ready 
to tell her about Kristen and even less ready to broach the 
subject of Hannah. He wasn't sure which scenario was worse 
� having a real live flesh and blood child through a 
foolish indiscretion, or that Hannah was the next 
generation of Emily. The thought sickened him as he 
recalled Emily's last few days. Who were these men who 
played God with little girls and barren women? 

He had supported Scully in her bid to adopt Emily despite 
his reservations regarding the affair, and he hadn't shrunk 
back and run when she approached him about being the other 
half of the IVF procedure. It still made him feel a little 
strange to think of himself as a sperm donor. His 
investment went beyond ejaculating into a cup. He wanted 
her to be happy, to be able to regain some of what she had 
lost, and if a baby would help do that, he would do 
whatever he could to make sure it happened. 

What he hadn't counted on were the mood swings and the 
crushing disappointment when the first two procedures 
failed. He had reservations that it was still too close to 
her recent surgery, but relied on Scully to know what was 
best. She wouldn't be foolish enough to risk her last 
attempt to conceive by trying when it wasn't safe for her. 

Scully, ever the consummate professional, was good at 
keeping her emotions in check most of the time. She never 
got pissy when she was on her period, and she didn't use 
PMS as an excuse to be bitchy. In fact, she rarely 
complained at all, and he knew there were times, judging by 
the paleness that make up couldn't mask and the winces she 
tried to hide, that she wasn't feeling well. It wasn't like 
they sat down and discussed it � "And how are the cramps 
today, Scully?" "Just fine Mulder, now that I've taken 600 
mgs of Advil."  "Oh, and how is the whole reproductive 
system holding up these days, Scully? After the nameless 
doctors removed all your ova, that is?" He snorted with 
derision. Working closely with Scully for five years had 
given him intimate knowledge of her body whether he wanted 
it or not. He knew enough about her system's workings to 
know that her periods were no longer as regular as they 
once were. 

Thanks to the nameless 'Them,' they were now an irregular 
and painful souvenir of a violation she couldn't remember. 
The fact that she still got a period once in a while was 
good news, at least according to her doctor. In order to 
sign up to be the male contributor, Mulder had had to sit 
through an interview. Dr. Parenti had no qualms sharing 
details about how her body was working and how he was going 
to attempt to make her pregnant. They managed to discuss 
all the technical details without too much difficulty; but 
it was the personal issues that seemed to stop him cold 
each and every time.  

He made his way over to the desk and began to dial while he 
turned his computer on. 

"Pinky's Laundromat, we specialize in shirt service for 
wayward FBI agents."

"Oh, that's smooth, Frohike. Turn the tape off."

"Where the hell have you been, Mulder? And why the hell is 
your cell turned off?"

"It's a long story. I need to know what you found out."

"First you'll need to do a little sharing of your own."

"Frohike, I don't have time for all this."

"Make time, buddy. We had your better half over here 
tonight and it wasn't a social call. She had a file, and a 
set of pictures, Mulder."

"Fuck."

"Well, fuck would be the operative word, would it not? She 
didn't' show us all the pictures, but we got the idea."  

"Do you have me on speaker?" He didn't need to wait to hear 
the embarrassed coughs from the other two men to have it 
confirmed. "It isn't what you think. I need you guys on 
this."

"I think you need to tell us what's going on, Mulder." 
Byers, always calm, steady, and reasonable.

Frohike, on the other hand, was never reasonable when it 
concerned Scully. "You hurt her Mulder and I'll kick your 
ass." 

Hell, he should take care of it himself and save them the 
trouble.

Mulder took a deep breath before he began and with as few 
details as possible and no elaboration on the night he 
spent with Kristen, shared the story, including his 
concerns regarding Kristen's physiology and the small, 
willowy girl with hazel eyes and a winning smile. It 
surprised him that Hannah's existence didn't shock them. 
For a moment he lived in blessed ignorance, which came 
crashing down when he realized that their lack of shock 
could only mean that they already knew because Scully had 
told them. He felt sick with the realization.

"Mulder, hey buddy." All three voices formed a chorus that 
pulled his attention back. 

"Sorry, boys. I just need to know what you've got for me, 
and then I need to go." 

"Well, that's the interesting thing about all this. You 
see, we located your trio, they weren't that hard to find 
once we got a line on one of them. But your partner, boy � 
she's something else, Mulder. You don't' deserve her, you 
know that I hope?"

"Frohike, I know it, you know it. Are we going somewhere 
here?"

"Well, it's just that your partner managed to put two and 
two together and came up with three."

"Langly, knock some sense into him, will you."

"No way, man. He's got those funny gloves on again. Just 
tell the man, Frohike. You're driving me crazy."

A small clicking noise intruded. "What was that � guys?"

"I don't like the sounds of that. I'm off � up close and 
personal � and then we'll talk, and Mulder, leave your cell 
on, just in case." 

The click was followed by silence and another, fainter 
click. Mulder wearily disconnected. Resigned to another 
long night, he grabbed his keys and ignored his landline as 
it began to ring. He was pretty sure who it would be, and 
in light of what the Gunmen had revealed he had even less 
desire to talk with her right now. He closed the door and 
locked it just as Scully's voice came on the machine.


********************

Chapter 15B

Scully replaced the receiver with a little more force than 
necessary. Mulder was avoiding her, she knew that, and it 
was making her crazy that he could be out there running 
around with only the facts he was being allowed to see. She 
picked the phone up again and dialed another familiar 
number.

"Joe's pizza."

"It's me, Langly."

"The phone seems to have extra ears tonight, let me call 
you back."

She checked that her cell phone was on and waited. It 
wasn't long. "Langly."

"Frohike, Scully. We have less than a minute."

"Oh, okay. I just wanted to make sure our friend got in 
touch."

"He's on his way."

"What are you going to tell him?"

"We were kind of hoping to convince you to come over and 
help us on that one."

"He's avoiding me right now. I'm a little concerned about 
how he might react."

"You sure you can't make it this way?"

"I'm tired. Can you let him know I need him to call me?"

"Will do. Get some rest. Bye, sweetness."

"Frohike �"

Her good-bye didn't make it in time; she heard the soft 
click disconnecting the call. She hoped they could convince 
Mulder to call her, but she knew how her partner got when 
his guilt was in full operational mode. The characteristics 
that made him good at his job -- tenacity, perseverance, 
compassion, and empathy -- were like a doubled edged sword 
when coupled with guilt and focused inward. She knew his 
introspection would be to the exclusion of all else until 
he had it all squared away. Then he would come, hat in 
hand, to do his penance. 

She was sick of it. It wasn't that she wasn't hurt, or 
needed to know the answers to the questions that were 
crowding her mind, it was just too much to fit in right now 
with all the other concerns. She had one more visit 
scheduled for the clinic this week in preparation for 
Friday's appointment to have the last of her eggs 
implanted. It was something she had done alone the last two 
times. She had been hoping Mulder might want to go with her 
this time, but hadn't a chance to ask him yet. In light of 
recent developments she wondered if she should. 


Another frustrating phone call to add to an already 
exasperating day. She headed to the kitchen and opened the 
refrigerator. The bottle of white wine she had picked up on 
her way home sat next to the sparkling cider. The cider was 
meant for celebration, but had spent the last few months 
cooling. She thought about indulging, it was what she had 
promised herself after a long day in the autopsy bay, but 
with Mulder's current whereabouts unknown, she might need 
her wits abut her.  She shut the door and decided to brew 
some tea to go with a hot bath. 

*******


Chapter 16

Krycek didn't like what he was about to do. He played a 
dangerous game, moving between different factions of the 
organization. In truth, he loathed the men who felt they 
had the right to decide for the population, and for him, 
what was best. It really came down to a power play, each 
group vying for top dog spot. He had been lucky so far. He 
counted the loss of his arm as the lesser evil when there 
was so many times his life could have been forfeited. 
Though he felt like a cat with nine lives, he knew the 
reality of it was that one day he would turn too late or 
shoot too soon and it would be over. Perhaps his strength 
was in his causal acceptance of the eventuality of his own 
death. 

He pulled a single key from his pocket and let himself into 
the house. Unlike Mulder, the opulence of the house didn't 
impress him; he'd learned long ago that to put stock in 
possessions was counterproductive. He had lived with 
abundance, and he'd lived in poverty. By letting go of 
material comforts, he allowed no man or organization to 
gain control over him. A man with nothing to gain or lose 
owed his allegiance to no one.  

This was one of Mulder's weaknesses; he seemed to think he 
owed everyone. Throw a needy female in front of him and he 
was hooked. He was predictable, and Krycek wondered if 
Mulder really knew how easily he could be played. Sometimes 
he needed to remind himself that despite Mulder's apparent 
ability to undermine the Syndicate's work, he wasn't 
infallible. Krycek recalled several stand offs between 
Strughold and Spender. Strughold was shrewd and knew 
Mulder's value had limits. Spender on the other hand, 
seemed to be blind when it came to the agent. Krycek 
assumed it had something to do with the families' 
connection and Teena Mulder in particular. 

Whatever it was, Spender kept it close to his chest and 
information was scarce, though he suspected the Englishman 
knew something. Krycek smiled as he crept up the stairs. He 
was a patient and resourceful man; one day he would have 
what he needed and Spender would be unseated. The tension 
between the key players, Strughold in particular, was 
heating up. El Rico had only reduced the playing field, 
leaving the strongest contenders. That Spender was still in 
the game was an unfortunate oversight. 

He paused at the closed bedroom door, mentally preparing 
himself. The house was deathly silent and if he didn't know 
differently, would have sworn it was empty. He turned the 
doorknob slowly, quietly. What did it say that he was so 
very good at such unsavory tasks?  

It took only seconds to inflict the fatal wound. There was 
no time for her to react, no time to turn around and see 
her assailant. He was glad of that. As often as he had to 
do this, as necessary as it was, he still found it somewhat 
distasteful. He was glad he didn't have to look into her 
shocked eyes, watching the light fade. This one didn't 
bleed toxic green like the earlier hybrids. Her blood was 
red and looked human, unless viewed under a microscope in 
its living state.  There was a unique quality to the fluid 
in these new ones and he doubted even Scully, with her 
expertise in the autopsy bay, would be able to pick it up. 

"COH XOPMO, sleep well." He pulled the blanket up, covering 
the trickle of red, and made his way silently out of the 
house.

"Well, Mulder," Krycek spoke into the cool air when he was 
far enough away that noise was no longer a concern, "next 
one, you owe me." 

Krycek slipped into the dark night. Tonight was one of the 
occasions when it was all about what he needed. 

******


Chapter 17

Frohike opened the door and Mulder decided that was the 
better option. He could handle humor much better than the 
quiet disappointment he might get from Byers, or Langly's 
biting sarcasm.

"We have to stop meeting like this."

"You're damn lucky we're letting you in." Frohike snorted 
and locked the door behind him. Byers and Langly briefly 
looked up and nodded hello.

Mulder knew there was more than a grain of truth in his 
statement. "Don't I know it. Frohike, can we drop the 
gloves? I'm tired; I feel like shit, and there isn't a 
single person not pissed off at me right now."

Frohike took in Mulder's weariness and clapped him on the 
back. "We have a stool just for you and a Shiner's Bock 
with your name on it."

"I think I'm in love." 

"Mulder, you have a funny-" A sharp elbow to the ribs 
courtesy of Byers cut off Langly's comment. Mulder 
swallowed any smart-ass remark he would have made, 
recognizing the gesture as outside of Byers' usual 
behavior. 

"Look, guys, let me get some of this down and then you can 
all have a go." He took a long draught of the beer before 
setting it down with a satisfied smack of his lips. 

The three Gunmen pulled chairs closer and Frohike slapped a 
folder down. "Before I get into this," -- he gestured to 
the folder -- "we want to know about the chick. The 
pictures you gave us aren't anything like the ones Scully 
has."

Mulder sunk a little lower on the stool at the mention of 
his partner's name. "No, I was trying to keep that part out 
of it. And I guess we have a matching set now because 
someone dropped copies off to me as well."

"We can't help you when we have only part of the 
information." Byers' voice was quiet, respectful. "We all 
know how hard it was on you when she was missing. She means 
a lot to all of us."

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you, but hell, what was I going to 
say? When I was out there investigating that group it was 
probably the lowest point for me." He paused to take 
another drink. "I was lost, so lost, and numb. She was just 
there, right time, right place; totally wrong actions on my 
part. I knew it, she knew it � hell, Spender caught it on 
tape, or Krycek, or one of their cohorts � they probably 
knew it too. It didn't solve anything, except I was able to 
get outside of my head for a bit. You know I'd never 
deliberately hurt Scully. She's never seen the file; I've 
kept it hidden, and Skinner hadn't seen it until today. 
Kristen showed up the other day with this kid in tow. I'm 
not sure what she is, but I'm pretty damn sure the kid 
is..." He fumbled for the right word. "Connected...to me." 
He miserably pulled at the label on his bottle.

Byers cleared his throat loudly and Mulder watched furtive 
glances pass between his three friends.  

"What aren't you telling me?" Mulder asked.

Langly elbowed Frohike who in turn gave Byers a push. If 
the situation weren't so grim, Mulder would find their 
posturing amusing.  

"It's why Scully has been trying to reach you all night." 
Byers retrieved a folder from the table. 

"Am I going to need another drink before you tell me what 
those are?" He pointed to the numbers on the page Byers had 
pulled out.

"Depends." Frohike retrieved another beer from the fridge 
and slid it towards him. "Just in case."

Byers' throat clearing was getting on Mulder's nerves. 
"Just spit it out, okay? I'm a big boy and the suspense is 
killing me. Besides, I have a lot more I need to do 
tonight."

"These are the numbers that were on a file Agent Scully had 
with her. Recognize them, Mulder?"

A soft gasp escaped him. "Sam's birthday." He pulled the 
paper closer. "Shit, her abduction date, too."

"They were on the reports she had, medical reports."

"What was the report for? Did it say what they did? Where 
she is? Where they kept her?"

Frohike held his hand up. "Stop, just hold up. There was 
nothing that would help locate her." His voice softened. 
"There were eight reports in total."

"So?"

"The last report indicated a live birth. Scully had two 
sets of PCR's; one we're pretty sure was Samantha's and the 
other was the baby's. It looks like your sister had a baby, 
and the date," -- he pointed to the last set of numbers 
they had copied -- "would make her about three and a half."

Mulder grimaced and sat back down, at a loss for words. Was 
Hannah Samantha's child or was she something they created 
using his sister? Either way, it was looking like Hannah 
was Sam's and they didn't need Sam alive for them to do 
their dirty work. He looked up at his three friends. "She's 
not mine, is she? She's Samantha's." 

A sharp rap on the door interrupted them and all four sets 
of eyes moved to the screen that monitored the entrance 
door. 

Frohike's whistle was loud in the silent room. "Looks like 
your number's up, Mulder." 

Her arms wrapped tightly about her body, Scully rocked from 
foot to foot, waiting for the door to open.


*******

Chapter 18

There was no joking, no banter or sarcasm to be had as 
Scully followed Frohike in. Her hair was still damp, held 
back in a loose ponytail, and her sweats spoke of a last 
minute decision to come here. She stood just outside the 
circle of men as they all waited for someone to make the 
first sound. There was an uncomfortable silence and the 
Gunmen, one by one, retreated to a back room, leaving 
Mulder and Scully alone. Mulder had yet to meet her eyes 
and she focused her attention on the papers spread before 
him.

"I wanted to tell you before you saw it. That's why I was 
calling."

He made a weak attempt to match her gaze, lost the battle 
and focused on the papers again. 

"You turned your phone off, and I left messages, but - 
dammit Mulder, how can I help you when you won't let me?"

He looked up then. "Oh, that's sweet, Scully. We know how 
much you let me -" Her anger he could handle, but the tears 
he could see forming were his undoing. "Fuck, I don't know 
what you want me to say."

"I don't have a script for you, I just don't understand how 
you could keep all this from me and expect me to be okay 
with it, especially with all..." 

"With all _what_, Scully? Are you referring to our clinical 
exchange of body fluids?" 

Her mouth was open, but no words were making it out. "That 
doesn't give you the right to hide things from me," she 
finally sputtered.

"This has nothing to do with you."

She had been ready to spar, to jump into the fray and 
continue the fight, but his words, flat and cold, seemed to 
leach it out of her. She appeared to deflate before him 
hurt rushing in to fill the spots anger had vacated. "I 
guess maybe it doesn't." 

"Look, there are some things I just can't talk to you 
about. This is one of them, at least right now." He was 
pleading with her now, the arrogance gone. "I promise, 
Scully - Dana - we'll talk, later."

His interjection of her first name, meant to placate her, 
had the opposite effect. Her mouth opened and closed but 
nothing came out. She turned abruptly and left, the door 
slamming shut behind her. 

******

When Mulder finally raised his head, he was greeted by the 
soft sounds of his friends keeping busy in the furthermost 
corners of their home. He'd been an ass; he knew it and, no 
doubt, so did the Gunmen. Scully knew it as well, he 
guessed, but she would never call him on it to his face. He 
was acutely aware of what happened the last time he'd taken 
her for granted and pissed her off. Groaning, he stood and 
made his way toward a shuffling noise he hoped would turn 
out to be Frohike.

"You can come out; I won't bite."

Frohike's cautiously stepped from behind the door. "Is it 
clear?"

"You heard her go, you can stop stalling." He raised his 
voice. "It's all clear, boys; I'm not going to self 
destruct."

Byers and Langly materialized from the back. 

"I think I need to go after her." Mulder raised his hand to 
his head and gave himself a smack. "That is what you guys 
need to do to me once in awhile."

"No offense, Mulder, but you can be a bit of a bear when 
you're pissed." Langly slouched against the wall. 

"Not to mention how uncomfortable it gets when the two of 
you go at it." Frohike was somber. "You have some 
apologizing to do." He poked his finger at Mulder's chest. 
"And if you make her cry anymore I'll hunt you down."

"Look, those papers are-"

"We got it covered, man." Langly moved to collect the 
documents from the table. "We've already filed and uploaded 
to a safe place."

"That's why I pay you the big bucks, boys." Mulder grabbed 
his jacket and made his way to the door. He turned to bid 
them goodnight and found Byers on his heels. Byers reached 
up and clasped Mulder's shoulder. "She's confused and hurt, 
Mulder. Take some advice from someone who loved and lost: 
talk to her. Don't waste the time you've been given. Just 
go."

Mulder nodded and let himself out. 


*****


Chapter 19 

After Midnight
	

Mulder was just pulling off of the Jefferson Memorial 
Bridge when his cell phone began ringing. Hopeful that it 
was Scully he hurriedly pulled the phone from his pocket 
and flipped it open.

"Mulder."

"Special Agent Fox Mulder?"

"Speaking."

"Agent Mulder, this is Stephen Mills with the Alexandria 
PD. We responded to a call about forty minutes ago and your 
name came up in connection with our preliminary inquiries. 

Mulder felt cold fear grip him. If anything had happened to 
Scully �

"Agent Mulder?"

"What caller?" 

"Agent, we have a situation at 22 Wolf Court."

Relief was momentary. "I'll be right there."

"We'll be waiting, Agent."

Mulder disconnected and turned his car around.  Fuck, what 
else was going to go wrong tonight.

*******

The area around Kristen's house was cordoned off with 
yellow tape, and the flashing lights of at least a half 
dozen squad cars gave the dark night an eerie glow. The 
sight set Mulder's heart pounding. Coming to a lurching 
stop just before the police tape, he had the car door flung 
open and was out of the car and sprinting towards the front 
door in record time, almost running over the officer who 
was attempting to stop his progress. 

"Sir, this is a crime scene. I can't let you go any 
further." 

Mulder pulled his badge out hastily and identified himself. 
"I'm looking for a Detective Mills."

He pointed Mulder towards the front of the house. "You'll 
find him inside or somewhere near the front area. Big guy 
with red hair."

Mulder headed off in the direction indicated and found 
Mills just inside the front door of Kristen's home 
conferring with a small group of officers. Apologizing for 
the interruption, he hastily pushed his identification 
between two men and introduced himself, grabbing the small 
group's attention. 

"Agent Mulder, thanks for coming so quickly. I'll be right 
with you."  

Mulder noted that Mills was indeed big; the man probably 
had six inches on him, with a shock of red hair, which 
disappeared under his cap when he put it on and dismissed 
the men around him. 

"Detective Mills �"

Mills put his hand up to stop Mulder. "This wasn't a call 
in any official capacity, agent. I had an anonymous tip to 
check this address out and the caller was insistent that I 
contact you."

"What have you got?"

Mills glanced at his notes. "Homicide victim, female, 
around 30, 35. Medical examiner hasn't been able to 
positively ID the body yet, but we are assuming it's the 
owner of the residence, a Kristen Kilar. Did you know her?"

Mulder took a deep breath. "Not very well. She was part of 
an investigation a few years ago."

"Any idea why someone would insist we call you?"

"Not really. She came to see me earlier in the day." He 
wasn't going to say more than he had to. "Where's Hannah?" 

At Mills' puzzled look Mulder grew agitated. "Hannah, her - 
the little girl who lived with her; she's about this high," 
-- Mulder held his hand up mid thigh -- "and has curly dark 
hair."

"Agent, the City has only one occupant listed and we didn't 
find anyone else in the house. Approximately what time did 
you last see Ms. Kilar, and is Hannah her daughter?" 

Fuck. How the hell was he going to answer that question? He 
needed to get into the house and do a search on his own, 
but he couldn't have Mills sounding an alarm. There was 
also no way he could tell the man the real story, and an 
outright lie would complicate things in a whole other way. 

"I'm not a liberty to share much, except to tell you that 
Ms. Kilar and the girl came to the Bureau's attention on 
another matter. We had some questions of our own and I was 
here earlier with my AD trying to get some answers. I would 
like to have a look around; Hannah may have heard the 
commotion and hid." Mulder figured Skinner could live with 
that as an explanation, and it was a subtle way to make a 
comment regarding jurisdiction. Mills didn't need to know 
the particulars of his visit, and he needed to get in there 
and find out what had become of Hannah.  

Mills nodded. "I can do one better." He stepped out onto 
the porch and got the attention of two officers. "Forbes 
and Lewis, this is Agent Mulder. He says there might be a 
child living here as well. You two help him go through the 
house, make sure she isn't hiding somewhere. And Agent --"

"Just Mulder will do."

"Mulder, I'd sure appreciate it if you could ID the body 
for us."

Figuring it was easier to be cooperative, he nodded his 
assent. "No problem." The small group made their way up the 
wide staircase to the second floor. Forbes and Lewis 
separated to begin a search of the rooms, while Mills led 
Mulder into the bedroom.

There was a small group of officers methodically dusting 
for prints and collecting evidence. A box sat near the door 
with several plastic bags tagged and marked, and the flash 
from the photographer's camera periodically lit the already 
bright room. A small thin man looked up as they entered.

"Charlie, this is Agent Mulder, with the Bureau. He may be 
able to provide a positive ID on the victim."

Charlie's voice was thin and reedy, suiting his frame. 
"That'd be great, Steve." He stepped aside and pulled the 
sheet back. 

The body was indeed that of Kristen Kilar. Or something 
that looked like her. The blood he could see was red, but 
that didn't mean anything. "Yeah, it's her. What have you 
got as a preliminary cause?"

Charlie looked to Mills. "Go ahead."

"Well, it's the oddest thing. No marks on the body except 
this." He pointed towards the back of Kristen's neck, where 
the blood had crusted into a thin line snaking its way 
down. "There's a small puncture wound right here, but we 
haven't found a weapon or anything in the room that could 
have been used."

If Mulder had any lingering doubts as to Kristen's 
humanity, they were put to rest. The only reason to target 
that particular spot in an attack was to kill a hybridized 
clone.  He rocked back on his feet. There was nothing he 
could do for her anymore. His priority had to be Hannah. A 
call to Skinner would take care of Bureau jurisdiction and 
get the body sent to Quantico. Scully was already there 
this week finishing up the Dusett case, and there wasn't 
anyone else he trusted to do this. Despite their 
difficulties right now, Scully would never be anything but 
professional. He wiped his eyes, unable to stifle a yawn or 
hide the weariness. It had been a long day and it wasn't 
over yet.

Forbes and Lewis appeared outside the door and Mulder 
didn't need them to tell him that they'd found nothing. 

Forbes was nodding his head in agreement as Lewis spoke. 
"Not a thing, Agent Mulder. Are you sure she lived here?"

Mulder swallowed, wondering how to smooth this over quickly 
so that he could get out and start looking on his own. 
These men wouldn't be of any use in tracking one little 
girl down, not considering who had probably taken her. "No, 
I'm not sure. Hannah wasn't her child. When I saw them last 
they were together, but that was early this morning." God, 
was it just this morning?

"Well, I don't know what to tell you. Do you know the 
parents at all? Could you check that she's with them?"

Mulder bought the opening the officer had given him. "I'll 
do that. Do you mind if I have a quick look through the 
place first?"

Forbes shrugged. "I don't see the harm. If you do happen to 
find anything, give a yell."

"Thanks."

"Let someone know when you're leaving, just in case Mills 
needs to ask you anything."

"Will do."

It didn't take long to go through the upstairs, and like 
the officers had said, there was nothing to be found. 
Nothing to indicate Hannah had even been in the home. Not a 
stray hair clip, stuffed toy, or storybook anywhere. He 
even rooted through the laundry looking for a stray sock, 
the bane of all mothers with children. There was nothing, 
which was telling in itself. Whoever had gone over the 
place had done so with great care. He needed to contact 
Skinner and the Gunmen. 

Another little girl missing, and if Scully was right, and 
she usually was when it came to hard facts, one more link 
to his sister was gone before he could do anything about 
it. Fuck. He was going to have to get in touch with Scully, 
and he still didn't have a clue what he was going to say.


*******


Chapter 20

After a mostly sleepless night of tossing and turning, 
Scully finally gave up fighting and got up. She spent the 
first few hours cleaning her already spotless apartment. 
She had an appointment at the clinic at 8:00 and after last 
night she was resigned to going on her own. Frankly, the 
idea of having Mulder accompany her had been an almost 
romantic notion. She needed to keep reminding herself that 
this was an arrangement between friends. Mulder's comment 
had hurt, but served to hammer home this point. Besides all 
that, there was now another child mixed into the equation: 
Samantha's daughter. 

How that would impact their relationship was a wild card. 
Her head hurt trying to sort through the complicated 
personal dynamics. On top of it all, the Gunmen couldn't 
have missed hearing and understanding Mulder's comment. 
Hell, the trio probably had access to, and tracked, her 
medical records. She wouldn't put it past Frohike to have a 
file on her tucked away somewhere in that dungeon of 
theirs. 

She chose one of her black suits from the closet. It seemed 
to suit her mood, and this particular suit always made her 
feel powerful. She needed every ounce of that to get 
through this day.

The clinic was quieter than normal when she arrived. There 
was always a sense of calm to the place. Soft music played 
in the background and the office was filled with exotic 
plants. Skylights, soft lighting, and a water feature 
helped create an atmosphere that seemed to ooze fertility, 
as if the surroundings themselves were part of the 
treatment. She checked in with reception and didn't have to 
wait long before she was ushered into the office where Dr. 
Parenti was waiting to go through the details of the final 
procedure, scheduled for tomorrow.

"Good morning, Dana."

"Morning, Dr. Parenti."

He looked briefly at the file in front of him. "So, how are 
you feeling?'

"I'm fine."

"Any cramping, swelling, or changes in bowel movements?"

"Nothing like that. I've had a bit of a mild headache, been 
a little irritable, but nothing that seems serious."

"That would be due to the higher dosage of hCG we used. 
Aside from that, there's been nothing else of note?"

"No, I've been fine."

"I have you scheduled for 4:00 tomorrow. Because this is 
the last embryo, I'd like to try something a little 
different this time around. First off, your hormone 
injection today will be a little stronger than the last 
one. You might find yourself with a bit of cramping tonight 
and your headache may be a little worse, but I think we 
should do all we can. I'd also like Anna to do an 
ultrasound to get a good look at how ready your uterus is 
to accept the transplant. Did you take the day off or are 
you scheduled to work?"

"I'm going to work from here."

"I'd like you to take it easy. If you can cut out a bit 
early and get some extra rest tonight, I'd recommend it."

"Is there a problem with being on my feet? I'm scheduled to 
autopsy today."

"No, nothing like that. I just want your body to be as 
ready as we can make it. Will your partner be joining you 
tomorrow?"

"No." She realized that she'd answered far too quickly when 
the doctor gave her a puzzled look. "He's in the middle of 
a case and may need to go out of town, so I've arranged a 
ride with a friend."

He seemed satisfied with her answer. "That's good, because 
I'd like to give you something to relax you before the 
procedure tomorrow. It will make you drowsy, but I think 
the more relaxed you can be, the better our odds. I'd also 
like to keep you a little longer, just to give it every 
chance. Is that okay?"

"How long do you think I'll be?"

"Not longer than an hour. If you'd like, Jill can call your 
friend for you just before you're ready to go so she 
doesn't have to wait the whole time here."

"No, that'll be fine. I can give her a call myself when I'm 
ready."

"Good then. Any questions before Anna takes you in?" 

"No, I'm fine."

They both stood and a small Asian woman entered in response 
to his buzz. "Anna, Dana is ready."

"Okay, Dana. You get lucky number four today."

Scully smiled at her. "Wasn't that what you said last 
time?"

"Last time we did the actual implant, you were in three; 
this time I told Dr. Parenti we needed four all the way."

"And he agreed?"

Anna's response was softly spoken. "Oh, Dana, we all know 
how much you want this. I want to help all I can, and if a 
lucky number helps, so be it." She pushed open the door and 
ushered Scully in, dropping a gown on the table. "Okay, Dr. 
Scully, you know the drill." 


***********

When Scully got back to Quantico any ideas about a relaxing 
day were gone. Not only did she have the last four bodies 
from the Dusett case to finish up, the clipboard in front 
of her had a note with Skinner's signature indicating a 
body had been delivered late last night. And there was no 
Denise to assist today. So much for Dr. Parenti's advice 
about taking it easy. The upside of things would be how 
quickly the day would go. She would be far too busy to 
dwell on her difficulties with Mulder. 

She had spent a large part of her sleepless night mulling 
things over, and she had come, reluctantly and somewhat 
painfully, to the conclusion that she had read far too much 
into her arrangements with her partner. Somewhere along the 
way, weathering two failed attempts had brought to light 
feelings she wasn't sure what to do with, feelings for 
Mulder that went beyond affection between partners, or 
gratefulness for his assistance. 

She had begun to feel a much stronger bond with him, one 
that she was now aware was one sided. She had begun to 
think about family and all the things that went with it; 
God, she was downright maternal at times. Visions of a 
little boy with wonder in his hazel eyes, and the ordinary 
trappings of family life, lulled her to sleep most nights. 
She was dreaming of white picket fences and parent teacher 
meetings, feeling nothing like Dr. Dana Scully, Special 
Agent. 

It was obvious to her that she was the only half of the 
parental equation who was crossing the invisible line. She 
was embarrassed and prayed she could pass most of it off to 
the hormones swimming in her body. To hope he wouldn't 
notice would be silly; Mulder noticed everything.

She changed into scrubs and waited patiently while two of 
the regular morgue assistants moved the first body into the 
bay and onto the table. The toe tag identified her as 
Maggie Duffers, 18. She was the last victim, a popular but 
troubled girl. Scully was glad she had no need to contact 
the parents. She was strictly the slice and dice part of 
this investigation. She took a deep breath and got down to 
it.

Several hours later and Scully was able to put her part of 
the Dusett case behind her. She pulled the sheet up and 
called to have a diener take care of the last body, Susan 
Fraser. She knew it was psychosomatic, but along with her 
aching back and feet she was feeling phantom cramps and a 
dull ache low in her abdomen. It was well after two and 
she'd only stopped long enough to eat her yogurt and gulp 
back a bottle of water someone handed her when she 
complained of thirst. 

Skinner's autopsy order would have to wait until after she 
took five minutes and put her feet up. She had a feeling 
that despite the paperwork bearing the A.D.'s name, that 
Mulder was lurking in the background somewhere. And these 
orders were specific. Skinner had made it clear that she 
and she alone was to do the work, which meant no 
assistants. She headed to the outer area and the hot coffee 
she knew would be ready.


********** 

Mulder leaned over as Frohike pointed to a spot on the 
screen. "Near as we can tell, the call came in after 
eleven."

"I don't want to know how you got this information, do I? 
Don't answer that. That's about an hour before I left 
here."

"Give the man a cigar." Frohike scrolled down the page. 
"That's it. Just the one call to the Alexandria PD."

"And the house?"

"Bought last month, buyer listed as Kristen Kilar. Cash 
sale; city has only the one occupant listed."

"I should have fucking checked that out before I even went 
there yesterday."

"Don't be too hard on yourself," Langly threw in. "None of 
us thought of it either."

"I'm sure you had other things occupying your mind." Byers 
pulled a stool closer to where they were working. "Have you 
had a chance to talk to Scully today?"

"No, she's still at Quantico finishing up the Dusett case. 
I've got Skinner trying to shake some information from his 
connections, but there just doesn't seem to be much. I'm 
betting Krycek made the call."

Frohike looked up. "You think he grabbed the kid?" 

"How crazy is it that I hope she's with him and not old 
Smokey? I'm betting she was gone long before the cops got 
there." 

"You think she knew the kid wasn't hers?" Langly stood up.

"Haven't a clue, boys. I don't know how they --" he paused 
--"created the baby; whether she was an implanted embryo, 
or grown in one of those tanks. I think Kristen cared for 
her; she must have." At least he needed to think that was 
true. He couldn't bear to think of Hannah being used and 
discarded like yesterday's trash. He needed to believe she 
was loved. He needed to believe he would find her.

"I'm going to head back over to the Hoover, see if Skinner 
dug anything up."

All three gunmen nodded. "We'll keep digging, watching the 
place just in case."

"Watching it?"

Frohike hit a switch and one of the monitors flicked on, 
showing an exterior shot of the front of the house, two 
police cruisers still parked outside. "Like magic."

"That is some serious shit, Frohike."

"Live feed and recording as we speak." Frohike pointed 
proudly to the black box underneath the monitor. "Say it, 
Mulder."

"Your kung-fu is the best." 

Frohike answered with a wide grin.

"Hey, Mulder." Langly swiveled around on his stool. "Just 
don't mess up anymore."

Mulder's reply was softly spoken. "I don't plan on it." He 
made his way to the door. "Let me know if anything comes 
up."

Frohike grunted a goodbye and Byers gave a small, sad 
smile. Langly dismissed him with a wave of his hand and all 
three men turned back to their computers and data streams.

*********

Scully was only mildly surprised to discover the body 
waiting for her was none other than Kristen Kilar. Somehow 
it seemed fitting with all the events of the past two days, 
as fitting as a case that made no sense could be. Not that 
she took any joy in the woman's death. It just seemed that 
things kept getting stranger and more convoluted with each 
turn. 

She looked over the notes included with the autopsy order. 
It seemed Kristen's unfortunate end came not long after 
Scully left the Gunmen and Mulder the other night. It would 
explain why Mulder hadn't called her yet. Whatever else he 
was, he did care and hadn't failed to call after each 
appointment she had. The days that she had to sit with her 
failure he was a steady rock, offering comfort that never 
became oppressive. She appreciated it more than she could 
ever tell him. 

When she pulled the sheet back she wasn't sure what to 
expect. Oh, she knew what the dead body would look like, 
what she wasn't sure of was Kristen herself.  Except for 
noticing the dark hair, she had managed to block out the 
woman's features when going through the pictures Krycek had 
left for her. 

It wasn't that she wasn't interested in seeing what she 
looked like, it was more that she could make an educated 
guess based on the other women from Mulder's past. She 
didn't need another long legged brunette to compare herself 
with. And she wasn't quite sure what her avoidance meant, 
or the fact that it bothered her to be faced with another 
of Mulder's women. Damn, that man had a propensity for 
getting involved with needy females. She took a deep breath 
and lined up her instruments. Whatever it was that she 
might be looking for would not yield easily. Any little 
fragment she found could be needed information. There was a 
certain amount of satisfaction and pride in knowing that 
both Skinner and her partner counted on her to do this, to 
be the best. 

Her cursory exam was thorough and when she saw the small 
puncture at the nape of the neck she understood Skinner's 
directive that she alone work on this. The mark meant one 
thing only: it was a hybrid. Yet this body didn't bleed 
green. She wasn't sure what that meant, but knew it was 
important and that time was of the essence. Bodies like 
this one had a habit of disappearing along with the 
evidence. She ignored her rumbling stomach and got busy. 

**********


Chapter 21

It was late when Scully arrived back at the Hoover. Traffic 
had been light, which was a plus. She was so tired and 
having to fight her way here would have taken too much 
concentration. She found Skinner in his office, the door 
open, bent over his desk still working on something. It 
wasn't too farfetched to believe he'd waited for her, 
knowing she would show up with the results from the Kilar 
autopsy. This wasn't something she could call him with, and 
if her suspicions regarding the woman were correct, she 
wouldn't' be sharing her findings in this office either. 
The best she could do was to present him with something 
that would throw off the men who were always listening. 

She entered quietly and waited for him to finish and 
acknowledge her presence. 

"Agent Scully?"

"I've the autopsy report, Sir."

"I wasn't aware that I'd asked for a verbal report, Agent."

She winced at the harshness in his voice. She knew it was 
because of the recording devices that were hidden in his 
office, but there was something else lurking behind it. If 
she was to guess she might pick pity, and it seemed to be 
directed her way. She bristled and her answer came out more 
abrasive than she intended. 

"I assumed the request to have me do the autopsy this 
afternoon meant the information was needed right away."

He pulled his glasses off and set them down. "Sorry, it's 
been a long day. I'll take a look at what you have."

"There isn't much." She passed him the folder. "Time of 
death seems to be somewhere around ten, give or take a 
couple of hours. The tox screen was clean, negative for 
alcohol, drugs, legal or illegal. She was a healthy woman. 
There doesn't seem to be anything untoward, except the 
manner of death."

Skinner played with a pencil and nonchalantly pointed it to 
a corner of the room and then scratched his ear with it. 
"Is that all?"

"That's it."

"Fine. If you'll give me a moment, I'm on my way out. I'll 
see you to your car."

"That won't be-"

He cut her off. "I had one of the clerks complaining about 
some guy hanging around the garage the other day. It'll 
only take me a moment."

She waited while he gathered up the paper he had been 
looking at and the autopsy files. He was silent all the way 
down the elevator and to the parking garage. When they 
stepped through the door he pulled over underneath one of 
the large ventilation fans. 

"Be quick," was all he said.

"I don't know what you've got this time, sir. The puncture 
wound in the back is like all the others would be, if they 
didn't dissolve into green goo before we could look. This 
one had red blood, and I couldn't find anything unusual 
about it at all; cell shape was normal, not too many white 
cells or too few red, nothing. It was almost too perfect."

"Which means, what?"

"Maybe nothing. It would help if you would tell me what you 
suspect." 

"Mulder thinks she might be a new generation of hybrid 
clones. One with similar physiology to our own."

"A new clone?" She cleared her throat. "Sir, this woman, 
whomever or whatever she is, has never given birth." 

Skinner showed no reaction to her revelation. She had been 
hoping for something that might let her know what was going 
on with Mulder. She knew her partner had gone to the house, 
it was in the police report, and she suspected Skinner had 
joined him. She guessed that Mulder's reluctance to face 
her was more involved than an indiscretion with a suspect. 

"Sir?"

"We've been long enough Agent Scully, we need to go." 

"Sir, what is it that no one is telling me about this 
case?"

Skinner gave her a blank stare and she realized she wasn't 
going to get anything out of him. 

They silently made their way to her car.

"Thanks, Sir."

"Can't be too careful these days, even with the security 
cameras. Good night Agent Scully."

************

Skinner wasn't surprised to find Mulder sitting in a car 
outside his apartment building when he got home. He noted 
Mulder's disheveled appearance and wondered if the man had 
gotten any sleep at all in the last twenty-four hours. 

"You keep long hours, sir."

"Speak for yourself, Mulder. What have you got?"

Mulder exited his car and followed Skinner to his door. He 
held a single thin file folder, tapping it against his leg. 
"Nothing. The house was a cash sale, one occupant listed 
with the city. That's it. I had the guys looking for any 
mention of Hannah and there is nothing. It's like she 
doesn't exist. There isn't much more on Kristen either. 
Just the regular stuff you'd find for a normal citizen. 
This Kristen, whatever she is, just stepped into the real 
Kristen's life."
 
Skinner pulled a key out from the ring. "I wish I could 
tell you that I had more, but I don't."

"I don't know where to look next." 

"Why don't you come up?"

Mulder nodded. "Sure."

Skinner disarmed the security system and flipped on the 
lights. His place was rather spartan, but neat. Decorated 
in browns and blues, there was no trace of a feminine touch 
here. Any reminder of his ex-wife was still too painful. 
There were no pictures except what the decorator had 
suggested to complement the color scheme, large non-
descript paintings with lots of muted colors. 

"Drink?"

Mulder shook his head. "I haven't eaten much today."

Skinner gestured towards the kitchen. "Knock yourself out."

"Hannah isn't mine."

Skinner raised his eyebrows, inviting Mulder to continue. 

"Scully had a visit from Krycek. He left her with some 
information, which she was able to match to Samantha's. It 
seems that Hannah is her child, somehow. I guess I got 
lucky."

Skinner was unable to keep the distaste from showing on his 
face, or coming through in his tone of voice. "Krycek? 
Doesn't that make things interesting." He unconsciously 
rubbed his arm, phantom pain running up it, the events 
surrounding his hospital stay still fresh in his mind. 

"Yeah, I'm sure he was responsible for the 'his and hers' 
matching envelopes with pictures. Were you able to get 
anything from your contacts?"

"I put some feelers out, dropped some information, but have 
had nothing. Not yet, anyway. It's still early. These men, 
they don't bite unless they need something; information is 
never free. It really comes down to what they need or want 
this time that's worth it for them."

"Don't sell yourself on this one, sir. I still have the 
Gunmen turning over stones, and Krycek seemed to be helping 
for some twisted reason. Do you know who made the call to 
the station?"

"No. I heard from someone wanting to confirm your status 
with the Bureau before they notified you. I pulled some 
strings, got the body shipped to Quantico for Scully to 
autopsy today." Skinner watched Mulder's face pale. "She's 
never been anything but professional, you know that Mulder. 
And who else could we trust to do it?"

"I know, it's just that --" He paused, groping for words. 
"Things are a little strained right now. I haven't had a 
chance to discuss any of this with her. She doesn't know 
about Hannah and God only knows what she thinks about 
Kristen and me."

"Scully wouldn't abandon you over this, Mulder. Hell, she's 
put up with your shit for over five years. This isn't going 
to scare her away. She's your partner; you need to talk to 
her. And she probably knows more than you're giving her 
credit for."

"Did she give you the results?"

"She didn't' find much. Except for the puncture wound, 
everything checked out as normal. Too normal was how she 
put it, I think. She did confirm that the woman had never 
given birth. So that matches up with what you found."  

He wasn't sure why Scully put up with his bullshit for as 
long as she had, but imagined that the feelings his pair of 
agents shared were stronger than either was willing to 
acknowledge. Love did indeed cover a multitude of sins. He 
just didn't think they thought of what they had as love in 
a romantic sense. 

"Go home, eat, and get some sleep. Hopefully someone will 
get in touch with me soon. You're no good to anybody like 
this." Mulder bristled at the directive. "I can make it an 
order if I need to."

"That's not necessary."

"Good." Mulder made his way to the door. "And Mulder?"

"Yes?"

"Talk to her. Soon."

"I will, I will. Just as soon as I figure out what to say."

"I'll call the minute I hear anything."

"Thanks, Skinner."

"You're welcome."

Skinner closed the door behind him and made his way into 
the kitchen. He pulled a frozen dinner from the freezer. He 
was tired and it was late, too late to cook. He popped it 
in the microwave and set the timer. He hoped he had stirred 
things up enough that someone would be inclined to talk to 
him rather than beat the shit out of him. He rubbed his arm 
again. Krycek. 

It didn't surprise him, but he'd rather not have to deal 
with that bastard right now. He had his own score to settle 
with the man. The timer dinged and Skinner pulled his 
dinner out, grabbing a beer to go with it. The television 
flicked on and he settled back. He needed to take his own 
advice. Sleep would help him think straight, and he figured 
he might need it tomorrow.

*********

Chapter 22

Mulder sat in his car outside Scully's apartment. A quick 
stop at the Gunmen's had yielded no new information, but 
all three of the guys had wasted no time chewing him out 
about his behavior with Scully. He guessed that sometime 
between the visit with Scully and the last one they had 
done a bit of digging. They had heard enough to guess at 
what the two of them were doing, and had probably got 
confirmation but in deference to Scully - he didn't kid 
himself that they would care about his feelings - they were 
ignoring it. Mostly ignoring it. Frohike couldn't help 
reminding him that Scully had 'some sort of medical 
appointment' earlier in the day, and making him feel like a 
schmuck for forgetting about it. Sometimes he hated 
Frohike's devotion to Scully.

He could see a light still on somewhere in her home despite 
the lateness of the hour. He opened his car door and got 
out, resigned to facing her. The talk he knew they needed 
to have was long overdue. He had also forgotten that her 
last IVF procedure was scheduled for tomorrow. He doubted 
she would have bothered to remind him.
  
She had asked him to be at this one with her, and Scully 
didn't ask for very much. He hit the remote, locking the 
car and made his way to her building.
 
*******

"Scully." She'd answered on the fifth ring, her voice 
sleepy.

"Hey, Scully."

"Mulder? What's wrong?"

"Nothing. I - I'm - "

"What is it? Are you hurt? Where are you?"

"Nothing - no - I'm fine. Actually, I'm outside your door."

The door was pulled open and there he was, phone still 
pressed to his ear. She squinted against the glare of the 
florescent light in the hallway. She flicked her phone off 
and stood aside so he could enter. 

"I'm sorry; I guess I woke you. I'll just go, and we can-"

"You're here now, and I'm awake."

"Sure." He thumbed his own phone off, tucking it back into 
his jacket pocket. 

"What do you want, Mulder?" She stood with her arms 
crossed, suddenly aware that she was in her pajamas. She 
watched him sit down on her couch, head bowed, his fingers 
twisting nervously. Truthfully, she didn't feel too badly 
that he was uncomfortable. He had put her through hell the 
last two days, bringing into question not only their 
partnership, but also the personal relationship they seemed 
to be dancing around. 

He looked up then, and she noted the dark smudges under his 
eyes. She wasn't the only one who wasn't sleeping. "Do you 
want tea? Or coffee?"

"Nah. Maybe a glass of water."

Glad to have something to do, she moved into the kitchen. 
She ran the water, longer than she really needed to, but it 
helped fill some of the time, some of the silence. When she 
turned away from the sink she bumped smack into his chest. 
She hadn't heard him follow her in, hadn't even sensed him 
behind her. They did an awkward dance trying to get around 
each other until he finally grabbed both her arms, stilling 
her.

"I'm so sorry." The words were so quietly spoken she 
thought she'd only imagined them. "I'm really, really 
sorry." He took the glass from her hand and set it aside. 

She chanced a look at his eyes; saw the pain, the sorrow, 
the deep sadness reflected there. And then his words, those 
horrible words uttered just the other day came back, and 
she wasn't quite ready to relent and forgive him. She felt 
tears threaten and hated how erratic her emotions were 
lately. 

"Sorry for what? For agreeing to our 'clinical exchange of 
body fluids?'" It would have had more effect, she would 
think later, if she could have kept her chin from 
quivering.

"Oh, Scully. Not that. Never that."

He pulled her in close and she felt his heart thudding 
under her ear and her anger began to crumble. She was 
biting her lip in an attempt to keep the tears at bay, but 
when she felt his lips on her forehead, and his hands 
tracing circles on her back, when she could finally 
understand what it was he was whispering she couldn't stop 
them. 

She cried. 

******



Chapter 22b 

It seemed like hours, but in reality it was only minutes, 
when her sobs finally settled into quietly drawn out sighs, 
punctuated by hiccups. He passed her the water she had 
poured for him. Her face was red and splotchy, and he hated 
that he was the cause of her pain. She gave him a small, 
self-conscious smile as she took the glass. 

"I'm fine --"

"Scully --"

"Really, I am. It's hormones."

"I'm sorry. More sorry than you can imagine." 

"It's okay. It's been a long day. I'm sorry for your loss. 
I didn't get a chance to tell you that."

It took him a moment to realize she was referring to 
Kristen. "It's not my loss, Scully. I'm sorry for Kristen 
too, but if you've done the autopsy you know it really 
wasn't her. The real Kristen died a long time ago."

"Yes, well, I brought my autopsy notes straight to Skinner 
but I've a copy here if you needed to see it. I didn't find 
anything."

"He told me, but that isn't why I came over."

"Why are you here at --" she glanced at the clock "-- 
11:30?"

"Three wise men."

"Frohike threatening you again?" 

Her soft smile was welcome after the tearful start. "I 
think he'd propose if he thought you'd say yes."

"In his dreams."

"I don't think you want to know his dreams." 

"You're probably right."

"So --" he groped, not sure how to begin the conversation 
they needed to have. "I guess we need to talk."

"Who was she? I mean, I know who she was, I guess I should 
be asking who she was to you?"

Mulder was a little surprised she was so forthright. He 
leaned forward and went to take her hand. He pulled back 
when she flinched. 

"I can't --" she moved away and into the living room, 
sitting in the chair opposite the couch. "I can't think 
when you're that close. Not right now."

He opened his mouth, witty comeback at the ready, but 
quickly closed it at the pained expression on her face. He 
could see how difficult this was for her, to ask the 
questions, to wait for the answers. It struck him how 
completely odd -- hell, screwed up -- the situation was. 
Here the two of them were, trying to make a baby and they 
had the emotional intimacy of two strangers. 

"It's okay, if you don't want to tell me. I mean, I read 
the report."

"And you saw the pictures." He felt he might as well say it 
out loud instead of letting it sit unspoken. 

"Yeah."

"It wasn't what it looked like."

"Mulder, you don't owe me an explanation."

"Yes, yes I do."

"Did the guys tell you about the PCRs?"

"Yeah, they did. It was -- I was surprised, at first. Her 
name is Hannah."

"Hannah?"

"She's three and a half, almost four, and she looks like 
Sam; long curly brown hair, like Sam's was, and hazel eyes. 
I thought she was mine, at first."

Her back stiffened and her knuckles turned white where her 
hand gripped her knees. 

"She's missing."

He watched a myriad of emotions cross her face, reflected 
in her eyes. Each emotion fleeting as she shut them down 
until he was left with only Agent Scully. 

"Missing?" 

"It's all so screwed up. I got called to the crime scene 
late last night, courtesy of an anonymous caller."

"Krycek?"

"Quite possibly, based on his recent contact with you. 
There was no sign a child had ever been there. I didn't say 
too much. We don't know how she came to be, whether she was 
conceived naturally --"

Scully's laugh was loud and hollow. "Naturally? Come on, 
Mulder --"

"Let me finish. Please." At her nod he continued. "Or using 
Sam's DNA and however it is they do it." He didn't want to 
talk about Emily, not right now. "I was going to try and 
get some tests run but I never got close enough." 

"Why aren't you out looking?"

"I've got the boys, Skinner keeping tabs on things, putting 
feelers out, but unless someone wants her found, I don't 
think we'll find much."

"I'm so sorry."

"It'll be okay." He was trying hard to convince himself of 
just that. 

"She was your type."

"My type?" He was puzzled.

"Kristen."

"Oh. I didn't know I had a type."

"Tall, dark and leggy. And pretty. She was pretty."

"I didn't notice."

Her raised eyebrows said everything. "Yeah, right."

He realized he wasn't ready for this conversation, despite 
his intentions earlier. Hell, they'd been avoiding anything 
that brought them too close to the personal for years. Why 
change things now? 

"How was your appointment today?" 

"Oh, it was fine."

Why had he expected her to say something different? "You 
thought I'd forgotten."

"Hadn't you?"

Her eyes seemed to see right through him. "Yeah, I did. I'm 
sorry."

"Seems to be the word of the night. Sorry."

"Look, Scully, can we start over again? I feel like I'm 
under a microscope being probed." He regretted the words 
the moment they left his mouth. If it were possible, she 
had pulled even further into herself. Why was it he never 
seemed to do anything except hurt her when all he wanted to 
do was wrap her up so he could love and protect her? 

"I'm tired. Are we done here?"

No, no we're not done, Scully. Not done at all. "I'll let 
you get back to bed."

He watched her pull herself up from the chair. She held 
herself proudly and he mentally kicked himself for the 
direction the conversation had taken. He stood and followed 
her to the front door, waiting while she unlocked it and 
pulled it open.

"Scully --"

"Mulder, not now."

"When, then?"

"Tomorrow."

"Promise?"

"I promise."

"Night."

"Good-night, Mulder." 


**********

The door closed with a soft snick, but she really wanted to 
slam it shut. Must love that Scully altruism and control. 
Concern for her neighbors and all that. She slid down, her 
satin robe catching on the rough parts of the wood, the 
hardwood floor cold and hard through her nightclothes. How 
dare he come over here with his apologies and his 
insecurities and his fucking hybrid - clone and why does 
there have to be a little girl missing, again. Life wasn't 
just unfair, it was cruel.

She muffled her cries. This was more in character for her, 
the pain squeezing out in defiance of her firm control. She 
felt embarrassed about her emotional display in front of 
Mulder, thankful she could pass it off to hormonal 
imbalance. She willed the tears to stop, silently berating 
herself. 

Taking a deep breath she pushed herself up. She was 
exhausted, but sleep would not be coming easily tonight. 
She decided curling up on the couch with late night 
television for company was marginally better than tossing 
and turning in bed. She settled back against the couch 
pulling an afghan around her. She flipped channels, finally 
stopping when she recognized Jimmy Stewart. Harvey. It was 
perfect. 

She was startled out of her quiet solitude when someone 
banged loudly on her door. 

Was there a sign directing everyone to her place tonight? 
She threw the afghan aside but didn't make it off the couch 
before the door was opened, with a key. God, what part of 
go home did Mulder not get?

*********

"See the thing is, Scully, I didn't get to say what I came 
to say. And I promised myself I would and we both know that 
tomorrow you'll have some other excuse for why it's not 
good timing then." Mulder kicked the door shut behind him 
and turned to throw the dead bolt.

"Mulder --"

"No, not this time. We are going to talk."

She took a good look at him, then. There was little she 
could do to dissuade him when he got that look in his eye. 
She was tired, too wrung out emotionally to argue. If she 
was careful she could manage to talk without saying very 
much and get him out the door quickly. Again.

He hit the televisions off switch, silencing Elwood P. 
Dowd's conversation with his invisible rabbit friend. "Can 
we sit?"

"You seem to be calling the shots here, Mulder. So, we 
sit." She turned to make her way to the chair and was 
startled when he grabbed her arm and pulled her back.

"Not over there, Scully. On the couch, together. Like 
adults. A real conversation."

Oh shit. It was all going to hell. He pulled her down 
beside him. 

"I need some space. Please." She pushed herself back 
against the armrest and tried not to let his disappointment 
change her mind. 

"So?" She pulled the sash on her robe tighter.

"I want to tell you about Kristen."

"You don't need to do that."

"Yes, I do."

She braced herself mentally.

"You were gone. I went from case to case and in between I 
was looking for you. It was pretty dismal. Your mom would 
have me over whenever she could. We'd touch base regarding 
the search and what I'd found, or mostly, what I'd not 
found, and we'd talk about you. It kept me grounded, for a 
time. Sometimes it got so bad --"

They both reached at the same time. Hands clasped, she 
noticed for the first time his trembling. She wasn't the 
only one who was having difficulty with this. She gave his 
fingers a squeeze, letting him know she was there for him, 
prompting him to continue. 

"Your mom's great, you know? It was like she sensed when it 
was the worst. Those times she'd just show up at the door, 
casserole dish in hand. Your mom's a great cook."

"I know. Too bad it isn't hereditary." 

"Oh, I don't know. Your cooking can't be that bad."

"I'm glad she was there to look out for you."

"You know, the hardest thing for me, after getting back 
from LA was facing your mom after...." He took a deep 
breath. "I was sure she knew, and I felt like I'd let you 
both down."

"Oh, Mulder." She covered their clasped hands with her 
other one. 

"Just let me get this out, okay?"

She nodded, noticing the wet, brightness of his eyes. She 
was going to cry too if she wasn't careful.

"I fucked her." 

The words were like cold water. She moved to pull away but 
he held tight.

"Almost done." His smile was forced. "If I look at it from 
the angle of a psychologist, I know it was an attempt to 
feel alive. I was dead. You'd been gone for so long, I 
didn't think you were ever coming back. Kristen was 
convenient, and I was empty. I used her to try and fill me 
up, to feel something. It lasted about as long as the sex 
did, which wasn't all that long, in case you wanted to 
know."

"Mulder --" This was too much and at the same time, not 
enough. She felt all her steely resolve to let him dump his 
pain on her and get him out the door dissipate. She was 
floundering. Some perverse part of her wanted details, 
wanted to be able to picture it perfectly, down to the last 
detail, so she could file it away, like an ordinary report. 
If she could compartmentalize it, treat it like any other 
forensic investigation she had a hope of coming to terms 
with it. Right now, it was too raw, her emotions too 
chaotic. She wondered if her face reflected the pain she 
was feeling inside. 

"It didn't mean anything, to either of us." 

"That's supposed to make me feel better?" She bristled. His 
use of the word "us" igniting something possessive in her.

"Maybe I didn't say that right. I don't do one-night 
stands, Scully. Sleeping with her like that, it wasn't 
typical for me. And I haven't been with anyone since that 
night."

"Detective White?"

"No. 

"No one?"

"No."

"Oh."

"I hid the file, I just shoved the whole thing out of 
sight. When you came back, life started for me again." 

He had tears in his eyes. Her own were held back by force 
of will alone. She realized she was holding his hand 
tightly, that she must be hurting him. She loosened her 
grip. If she was careful, she could still get him out 
before she wasn't able to hold everything in and she 
regurgitated it all over them. 

"Scully, why are we trying to have a baby?"

Oh fuck. There went any resolve she had left. 

"I guess I know the why, what I really want to know is what 
happens if it happens? Who will I be to you and to the 
child we create? I mean --" He pulled away from her and 
stood up. Shit, this was worse. Mulder and his pacing could 
mean another hour. She didn't think she had the emotional 
resolve to last that long before she fell apart completely. 
He had come far too close to echoing her own insecurities. 

"I don't know." She dropped her head, unable and unwilling 
to meet his eyes. 

"You don't know? Since when do you not know? Dana Scully 
always knows what she's doing."

"Not this time." The words were whispered. She was not 
going to be able to do this.

She felt him, the heat from his body as he crouched beside 
her. Oh God, he was too close. He lifted her chin with two 
fingers and she was powerless to stop him. He would see 
everything in a moment. She felt like her soul was sitting 
bared for anyone who chanced a glance.

"Oh, Scully." He pulled her close and she allowed it. She 
was tired of fighting. 

For the second time that night, she burrowed her face into 
her partner's chest and let herself be comforted as she 
cried.

***************

Chapter 23

Diana Fowley's mouth was drawn in a hard, straight line. 
Her knuckles were white from where she gripped the edge of 
the table and her eyes were riveted on the scene unfolding 
before her. She had been told things had changed between 
the two partners, but seeing it with her own eyes forced 
the reality of it upon her. She had come back to find her 
place usurped by a short redhead with attitude.  

"Why wasn't I called back before this?"

"You've been called now." Spender ground his cigarette out 
under his foot and lit another. 

"Do you have to smoke those in here?"

"I'll smoke wherever I wish."

She ignored his comment and turned her attention back to 
Mulder and Scully. "How long?"

"How long what, Diana? How long have they been intimate? Or 
how long have they wanted to?"

"You bastard."

"Now, now. No need to fret. The situation is being 
addressed. This --" He indicated the scene on the monitor. 
"Is being handled."

They were both silent as the figures on the screen began to 
move again. Spender reached forward and hit a switch, 
turning the volume on. 

"Love you, Scully. For so long."

"Me too. Oh, right there."

Diana reached across and flicked the sound off. "I don't 
need to hear it; I can see what they're doing just fine."

Spender laughed. 

"How is it 'being handled'?" Diana's voice was quiet.

"That isn't your concern right now."

"Then why the hell did you call me back here? To throw this 
in my face?"

"It was necessary. He's going to need you soon. I just want 
you to be prepared, to know what you're up against."

Diana found she couldn't draw her eyes away from the 
screen. Watching her ex-lover with someone else was 
difficult, particularly when the 'ex' portion of the 
equation was something she had never really been in 
agreement with. It had been thrust upon her 'for the good 
of the cause.' 

Her sudden departure to Europe had hurt him, she knew. It 
was a forced exile, engineered by God knows who within the 
organization. She was still bitter, but underneath it all 
she believed in what they were doing, perhaps not always 
the methods, but certainly the end results would justify 
those. When she was pulled a second time, after the Gibson 
Praise fiasco, she knew she'd destroyed any remaining trust 
he had in her. She wondered if Spender realized how thin 
her connection to Fox was. 

"Diana." His tone was sharp, bringing her focus back to the 
monitor.

"What?"

"Watch and learn."

"I don't need to watch to know how to reach him sexually. 
You forget, it was me who seduced him all those years ago."

"I'm not concerned about you learning new sexual 
techniques, my dear; I'm quite familiar with your expertise 
in that arena." 

He let his hand drift over her breast, squeezing lightly, 
and she held in a shudder.  

"I want you to pay attention to the emotion, the 
commitment, to what they say. Krycek can give you the tape 
later and you can listen on your own. I'm not that 
insensitive. It won't be easy this time to drive a wedge 
between them."

"And whose fault would that be? If I had been here, been 
allowed to continue my work near him, this might not be 
happening."

She pointed to the screen where Mulder was now, clearly, 
thrusting into Scully for all he was worth. His naked ass 
filled the tiny screen and she couldn't stop the ache 
between her legs. She remembered how good a lover he was. 

"Ah, is that jealousy I hear? Or frustration?" He moved 
behind her and reached around to caress both her breasts 
through her sweater. She found herself responding despite 
her disdain for this man and sorrow for all he had taken 
from her.

As his hands dipped lower, pulling her pants open, she shut 
her eyes and allowed herself to pretend it was Fox's hands 
once again. 

On the screen the two lovers curled against one another and 
drifted off to sleep. 

***********

Scully woke momentarily confused. Mulder was wrapped around 
her, snoring softly. The noise wasn't the problem; it was 
the strangeness of having Mulder in her bed. She had slept 
next to him before, but never naked. The entire evening had 
seemed surreal, like it was happening to someone else. 

She touched her lips. They felt swollen, bruised from him. 
She'd come twice, and she couldn't recall any other time 
when sex had been that good. One minute she had been in 
Mulder's arms, his offer of comfort allowing her to feel 
secure, grounded for the first time since Krycek had 
dropped off the pictures, disturbing her ordered world, and 
the next -- oh God, the next they were both naked and 
Mulder was buried in her, carrying her to the bedroom. 
Remembering it was enough to make her wet again. 

She wondered if she should be embarrassed at how eager she 
had been, how easily he aroused her. Mind you, he didn't 
seem to be complaining at the time. She could blame the 
extra hormones -- she was going to hold onto that one in 
case she needed it -- but it was more likely that her 
ability to keep tight control on feelings had been 
overruled by something else. 

She hesitated to say love, despite Mulder's propensity for 
saying it every five minutes as he thrust in and out of 
her. She wasn't sure how she should take that. Declarations 
of undying love in the middle of sex were not that unusual. 

He had asked her why she wanted to have a baby; actually, 
he'd asked why they were trying to have a baby. There were 
a multitude of questions inherent in that one question that 
she couldn't answer. Couldn't or wouldn't? Things had got 
rather heated right after that. Had she unconsciously used 
her body to shut him up? Or had her subconscious pushed 
forward because it was trying to tell her something? 

She really didn't have an answer for him. Not one that she 
was willing to share right now. Two failures had tempered 
her hope that this last procedure would succeed. And there 
was no use delving into any relevant discussion with that 
hanging over their heads. 

She wiggled out from under Mulder's arms, putting some 
distance between them. He was too close.

She willed her brain to stop analyzing and thinking in a 
bid to get some sleep, but wasn't surprised to find it an 
almost impossible task with the object of her thoughts 
still too close. It was a long time before sleep claimed 
her.

***********

Chapter 24a

Scully hadn't expected to find him still there in the 
morning, but the note was a bit of a surprise. The hot 
coffee waiting in the carafe was a nice touch though. She 
wasn't sure how to take either the night before or the 
morning after. It was all so.... one night stand-ish. 

There was a tingling ache that remained from their 
activities last night. Sex? Fucking? Coitus? Fornication? 
Copulation? Making love? She had laid awake much of the 
night contemplating what had occurred, and still she 
hesitated to name what they'd done at this point in time. 
He wouldn't be the first man to claim undying love in the 
heat of passion, hers or his. 

She grabbed a cup from the cupboard. She was sore, tired, 
and still emotionally wobbly. Not a good combination for 
the demands today would have on her. Though he had owned up 
to forgetting her appointment yesterday, there had been no 
mention in the note regarding his attendance at the final 
one today. 

If she had ever entertained any thought that sex might 
change the parts of him that drove her crazy, she had the 
beginnings of proof to refute that idea. He was who he was. 
And at least, for right now, there was some comfort in 
that. 

She added some milk to her coffee and headed for the 
bathroom. She couldn't afford to be late this morning.

*********

Scully dropped her computer bag onto her desk and sneezed 
as a puff of dust lifted into the air. The battle the two 
of them had over housekeeping was ongoing. As often as she 
called them down to take care of the dirt, he chased them 
away convinced they were stealing secrets or planting bugs. 

She set her jacket on her chair and went in search of a 
dust cloth. She found one in a drawer and set about her 
work. 

She surveyed her handiwork. There wasn't much she could do 
about the floor, but at least she could move papers on her 
desk without causing a small dust storm. She hadn't been 
back in the office since the start of the Dusett case, and 
her inbox confirmed it. 

She turned her computer on and pulled out the tape and lab 
reports. She still had her notes to write up for the 
autopsy she did on the last body. She set the folder with 
Kristen's autopsy reports on Mulder's desk. It was only a 
copy. Even if the body disappeared, and she fully expected 
it to at some point, she had the hard data. Pictures too, 
all copied and uploaded courtesy of the Gunmen. Extra 
insurance Mulder always called it. 

Her cell phone rang and she scrambled to get it out of her 
bag. She took a deep breath before thumbing on the talk 
button; only one person would be calling her on her cell at 
this hour of the morning.

"Scully."

"Hey, it's me."

"Morning, Mulder."

"I'm running a little late."

"Okay." 

"I just didn't want you to worry -- you know."

"You're running late. Got it."

"Scully --"

"...."

"I'm sorry."

"You're sorry?" Sorry for running out or sorry for the 
whole night? She didn't have the emotional energy for this 
right now. 

"I have to make a couple of stops and I'll be in."

"Fine." 

"Scully?"

"Yes," she snapped. 

"Nothing. I'll see you soon."

She ended the call and threw the phone in her bag. 

**********

Mulder disconnected the call. He knew sneaking out early 
this morning wasn't the best way to handle things, but 
Scully's moods were confusing him. One minute she was 
clinging to him, emotionally distraught, and the next -- 
hell, what happened next had him growing hard again just 
remembering. 

He wasn't stupid enough to think that she had been a 
reluctant participant; the speed with which she divested 
him of his pants, and her active involvement in the act 
itself was proof of her own desire. He just couldn't' 
figure out why now, what it all meant. 

It felt like he had taken advantage of her -- hell, maybe 
they had taken advantage of each other. He wasn't exactly 
thinking all that clearly either. They could not have any 
kind of meaningful relationship if sex became something 
they used to avoid talking. And he was afraid that last 
night was just that -- avoidance. She was emotionally raw 
and he was -- he wanted to bind her to him. He wanted that 
baby in order to have some permanent tie to her. 

She hadn't answered his question and he desperately needed 
to know what was going on in her head. 

They needed to talk. 

***********

Chapter 24b

Mulder pulled up outside of Kristen's residence. The police 
tape was still up but there wasn't a patrol car in sight. 
Not surprising. They didn't see it as anything but one more 
homicide with a deficit of clues. One more that would 
eventually get moved to the back as it made its way to the 
cold case files. He got out of his car, ducked under the 
tape and walked confidently up to the front door. If any of 
the neighbors were watching he didn't want to arouse any 
suspicions. He needed to have one more look around without 
the local PD breathing down his neck. He was convinced he 
missed something that would give him a clue regarding 
Hannah. 

The place smelled stale, overlaid with a tinge of something 
that could only be blood. The presence of fingerprint dust 
confirmed that a restoration company hadn't been called 
yet, which was a good thing. 

He donned a pair of latex gloves, thinking with a smirk how 
much that would please Scully. In the next breath he 
remember how pissed she actually was with him right now. 
She had been clipped and reserved during the phone call. He 
knew he might be asking for trouble when he left very early 
this morning, but he couldn't deal with it all. Shit, he 
hadn't meant to sleep with her under those circumstances.

He carefully made his way into the living room. Closing his 
eyes he brought to mind the room as it was the night he sat 
here with Kristen. He could see the pictures lined up along 
the sideboard and tables, the book she had pulled out to 
show him. All lies, all meant to -- to what? Why would they 
dangle a little girl -- Samantha's little girl -- before 
him? What was the motivation this time?

There was nothing here. He got down on the floor and 
checked under the couches and the chair to make sure. 
Nothing. He turned to make his way upstairs, his footsteps 
echoing where they touched the wooden floors. 

He paused at the top of the stairs. When he had looked 
around up here the first time it had busy, between the 
coroner, the paramedics, and the local police he had felt 
constrained. 

Now he shut his eyes and allowed the atmosphere to permeate 
him. His memory supplied the scene: emergency bag on the 
floor by the end of the bed, the paramedics off to one 
side, unable to do anything now that the coroner had been 
called in; Mills, pacing in the hall, occasionally coming 
through the open door to check on things; leaning over 
Kristen as Charlie pointed out the marks on the back of her 
neck, the tang of fresh blood pungent. 

He opened his eyes and shook the scene off. He stepped into 
the room and surveyed it. Someone had taken the sheets, 
probably Forensics, and the telltale marks of fingerprint 
dust meant this room hadn't been touched either. He knelt 
down and let his fingers run over the carpet by the head of 
the bed, cursing himself for forgetting to bring in a 
flashlight. 

When he stood up and moved the side table out of the way, 
intent on moving the bed to see under it more clearly, a 
small white slip of paper fluttered to the floor. He 
grabbed it carefully by the edges. It was a photograph. 
Kristen and a younger Hannah smiled back. They were perched 
in front of a white building, the name not visible. He 
wondered who was taking the photograph. He pulled out a 
clear baggie and dropped the picture in; he might get lucky 
and there would be a print Danny could life off it for him. 

Another quick look through convinced him he had found all 
he was going to. He was grateful for this one small thing 
considering the local PD was known for their thoroughness 
at a crime scene; he just got lucky.

************

Chapter 25

It was noon when Mulder finally made it back to the Hoover. 
He stood outside his office door, hesitant to enter. He had 
already dropped the picture off with Danny and couldn't 
think of anything else that needed his attention, anything 
that would buy him more time. He wasn't sure what he 
expected from Scully and not one of the several opening 
gambits he'd been running through his mind seemed right. 

They had begun to open up with each other last night and it 
was aborted -- by sex. Anything that began with 'about last 
night' was sure to be misinterpreted. Leaving this morning 
was the wrong, but that didn't make staying the right thing 
either. He took a deep breath and pushed the door open.

Empty.

He wasn't sure if he was relieved or worried. He shucked 
his jacket off and ventured over to her working area. Her 
table was clean; he could still smell something vaguely 
antiseptic. Her laptop case sat on the chair, presumably 
with the laptop in it, as it wasn't on her desk. Her jacket 
was gone and he didn't see a purse so she was probably at 
lunch. That would give him; he checked his watch, another 
forty-five minutes tops. 

He went back to his own desk. A folder leaned against the 
computer and there was a moment of panic before he 
recognized it as the report on the autopsy Scully had done 
on Kristen. He'd need his partner to help decode some of 
the medical-ese in it, but muddling through would give him 
something to do until either she got back or Danny called. 
He sat down and stuck his feet on the desk, grabbed his bag 
of seeds, and leaned back in his chair. 

*********

Scully picked at her salad. Marco had tossed in extra 
vegetables for her, and though she appreciated the gesture, 
she just wasn't all that hungry. She had expected Mulder 
back long before now. And truth be told, she was tired of 
the song and dance. 

She was acutely aware that today was her last chance. The 
failure of the last two IVF procedures had been difficult 
to handle. She couldn't imagine how she would deal with 
this one if it failed as well. Sleeping with Mulder last 
night had been a mistake. She was having a hard enough time 
trying to figure out how he fit into her life as her 'best 
friend the sperm donor,' without making things more 
complicated. 

He had asked her a question last night and it had been 
rolling through her mind all morning. Why was she doing 
this, and doing it now? Never mind the biological clock 
ticking, though that was a factor, but looking at her 
career and the dangers inherent made the attempt seem self-
centered. It was a selfish act by an almost middle aged, 
barren woman whose life was empty. 

She sniffed back a tear. She recognized the influence of 
hormones on her psyche but couldn't ignore the truth of the 
situation.  Damn Mulder for being so sweet and caring one 
minute, and then confusing the hell out of her the next by 
sleeping with her and pulling a disappearing act. It was 
cowardly. 

She pushed the salad away and stood up. She had her purse, 
her jacket and, she dug through her pocket, her keys. The 
laptop had a data encryption setting that protected her 
files against an unknown user trying to access them, which 
meant she could leave it at work with little worry. She had 
two hours before she needed to leave for the clinic and she 
was going to spend them trying to relax. She'd call Skinner 
from home rather than risk being summoned upstairs. 

**********

The jarring ring of the phone woke Mulder, the file 
scattering from its perch on his chest as he sat up. 
"Mulder."

"Got a couple of prints for you."

"I'll be right up, Danny."

He stood and stretched, checking the time. Shit, it was 
after two and, as if it just noticed as well, his stomach 
growled. Where was Scully? Grabbing his cell phone from his 
jacket pocket he hit the speed dial for her number. When he 
was greeted with a familiar 'not available' message he 
groaned. Things were worse than he imagined. He'd deal with 
Danny and then try to track her down. 

Mulder nodded to a couple of agents as he made his way 
around desks back to where Danny worked. He knocked on the 
door before opening it and walking in. 

"So, will all the mysteries of the universe be solved with 
this one, Mulder?"

"Don't be a smart ass."

"Hey, that's don't be a smart ass you who now has tickets 
to -- what do I have tickets to this time?"

"The ballet?"

"Now who's the smart ass?"

"What've you got for me, Danny?"

"Well, you're going to love this one. Three partials and 
one full." He clicked a button bringing the FBI print 
database up. "The partials were clear enough that I could 
run them through the data base and get a positive on them. 
Two of them are ours, Mulder."

"Fuck."

"Want to tell me what this one's about?"

"Nah."

"Didn't think so." Danny opened another screen and Mulder 
was greeted with Krycek's FBI picture and dossier. "His was 
the full and one partial."

"And fuck again."

"One partial belongs to a recent addition, Kristen Kilar. 
Deceased I'm told."

"Why is she in the database?"

"She's not. But it's on file with the LAPD. From --" He 
clicked and another picture came up. "Back in 94."

"And the other print?" 

"That one came up with this." One more click and a new 
picture filled the screen.

Mulder blanched. 

Diana. 

*********

Chapter 26


Salvo Giacomo 'James' Parenti replaced the receiver, his 
hands damp and trembling. He wiped them on his lab coat and 
stood to get a glass of water. At 53 he was a sought after 
fertility specialist. His clients came from all walks of 
life, with one thing in common: the desperate desire to 
hold a baby in their arms. For the majority of them, money 
was no object. Couples mortgaged homes, borrowed from 
parents, and sold what they could, all in a bid to have 
their own child. 

His research, cutting edge, was completely underwritten by 
a large, internationally owned, pharmaceutical company. He 
drove a brand new Jag, and his home, spacious and mortgage 
free, was located in one of the best neighborhoods. 

How could he have known what the cost would be? 

Should he have known, thirty years ago, when he was asked 
to become involved in new research, that this would be the 
result? Janice had been concerned, enough to ask him to 
step away. She hadn't known the specifics of what was going 
on, her anxiety stemmed from her distrust of some of the 
men involved. 

She'd always had good instincts.

His heart was heavy as he thought about his wife. Dead 
fifteen years now, Janice would forever remain etched in 
his memory as he saw her last: face contorted in pain, 
accusing him of choosing research over her. Dying and 
bleeding in his arms as she miscarried, his Nonna's voice 
an echo from the past, a whisper over the cries of his 
wife, essere un ragazzo buono Salvo -- you be a good boy 
Salvo -- 

"Tento la Nonna."

He sat back down in his chair. The call had unnerved him, 
as if somehow Charles had known what he was planning to do. 
He shook it off as being unlikely given that only a handful 
of men in the world had access to this particular brand of 
genetic research. He'd given up trying to explain the 
mechanics of what they were doing with the DNA; these men 
were only interested in the results of the project.

He flipped opened the file sitting before him. He hadn't 
been part of the harvest team; that was Ishimaru's 
specialty. The Japanese doctor had developed the procedure 
and overseen it. The thoroughness of the technique was an 
ongoing professional disagreement between the two doctors. 
Parenti wasn't convinced that the extractions were one 
hundred percent effective. He argued that it was impossible 
to remove every single ovum. Ishimaru was arrogant and 
boastful in drawing attention to the thoroughness of the 
method he'd developed. 

James was tired of playing God for these men. He wasn't 
stupid enough to think he could walk away, and he wasn't 
ready to die yet, but he could do this one thing and no one 
would be the wiser.

Although Charles' call gave him pause to consider what he 
was about to do, he was more than determined. He owed this 
to Janice. He stood and took the file with him as he headed 
to the lab. 

It would be a simple thing, to switch the embryos.

************ 

Mulder breezed by Kim and headed straight for Skinner's 
door. Without hesitation he pushed it open, surprising the 
AD.

"Mulder, don't you know how to knock?"

"Sir, I need to--"

Skinner stood, his stern expression silencing him. "Now 
what is it that has you bypassing my assistant?"

"Danny just finished identifying some prints on a photo I 
gave him."

"Mulder --" Skinner indicated the smoke detector above the 
door with his eyes.

Mulder shook his head. "Doesn't matter."

Skinner sat down. "Is this connected with a case you're 
pursuing?"

"It might be." 

"You know my help is limited, don't you Agent Mulder?"

"With all due respect, this concerns a missing child. A 
little girl with a connection to my sister, who was 
possibly taken because of that connection." He laid the 
print and the results on the desk in front of Skinner. 
"Guess who isn't as dead as we thought?"

Skinner whistled softly. "Well, this does give the 
impression that we were premature in making assumptions. 
What do you want from me?"

"I want to speak to Cancerman, to ask that black-lunged 
bastard some questions. I want to know how these two are 
connected with Hannah's disappearance and Kristen's death."

"I don't know if I'm able to facilitate that."

"Fuck that." Mulder turned his face up to where the smoke 
detector clung to the ceiling, its green light a beacon. 
"You hear that, you bastard, I want her back."

"Agent Mulder, I share your concern, but this isn't the way 
to handle this situation."

"Oh I don't know, Sir, it seems to be a very good way to 
deal with things. Hell, if I'm going to be continually 
fucked over it might be nice to talk to the fucker in 
person. Don't you think so?"

"What I think, Agent Mulder, is that you are too 
emotionally 
invested in this case to think clearly. It might be an idea 
to take a step back. You don't just call this guy up and 
invite him to tea for a chat."

"I'm not interested in taking a step back. I'm sick and 
tired of these men and their arrogance. I want Hannah back, 
not a fucking tea party." 

"That's enough, Mulder." Skinner rose from his chair. "I 
suggest you go cool off. Getting angry isn't going to help; 
it'll just get in the way of clear thinking. Right now you 
need your wits about you. I'll do what I can but I won't 
promise anything."

"Forget it." Mulder let himself out, slamming the door 
behind him. On top of it all, Scully's appointment was in 
two hours. He had promised to be there and now it was 
looking like he'd be delayed, if he managed to get there at 
all. Shit, he couldn't do that to her, not when this was 
the last chance she'd have. He pulled his ringing phone 
from his jacket pocket as he punched the elevator button 
with the other hand.

"Never do that again, Mulder. You know the office is still 
watched." Skinner's voice was hushed. Mulder figured he was 
probably huddled in one of the alcoves that afforded some 
privacy and wasn't bugged.

"Sir, frankly I don't give a shit anymore. What can you 
tell me? What do you know concerning Diana's whereabouts?"

"I don't know much, but I'll do what I can. I'll call when 
I've got something."

"Thanks." He thumbed his phone off and shoved it back in 
his pocket. If he hurried he might make Scully's four 
o'clock appointment. 

**********

Chapter 27b

Scully sat stiffly in the chair in front of the large oak 
desk. Behind it, Dr. Parenti pulled a slip of paper from 
her file and scanned the contents. The silence was thick, 
the chair beside her, where Mulder should have been, 
announcing its emptiness. 

"Well, Dana, are you ready?"

"I think so."

"Will Mr. Mulder be joining us?"

"I'm not sure; he may be tied up with something." 

He pulled the sheet of paper closer.  "I know we went 
through this with you yesterday, but I want to assure you 
that you've done all you can on your end. The uterine 
lining looks good and the numbers from the baseline Anna 
did yesterday are fine. Five of the embryos survived the 
thawing process."

"How do they look?"

"We're hopeful. I used assisted hatching with this batch."

"Is that where you --" She found herself stuck and looked 
sheepishly to the doctor. 

"Dissolve a section of the zona pellucida? Yes, the 
procedure has been shown to facilitate implantation and 
it's given us good numbers in more difficult cases."

And hers was a most difficult case. Parenti didn't say it, 
but Scully knew it to be true.

"I'm hoping this will give us a positive outcome this time. 
We'll do all we can." He flipped a switch on the intercom. 
"Dana is ready, Anna." He stood and motioned Scully to do 
the same just as Anna entered.

"All set, Dana?" 

She took a deep breath. "Ready as I'll ever be."

"Exam room number eight this time, Dana," she said as she 
led Scully from the office. "Doubling our chances, I'd like 
to think."

"Anna, this time I'm willing to give just about anything a 
go." 

***********

Scully tried to make herself comfortable, as much as it was 
possible lying half-naked with her legs spread. She picked 
at the paper gown, trying to wrap it more securely around 
her, but managed to do little more than force the neckline 
and armholes to gape. Soft music played quietly in the 
background of "lucky room eight." She didn't hold much 
credence to Anna's numbers theory, but humored the Asian 
woman's superstitions anyway. The Valium Anna gave her was 
making her woozy. 

She heard footsteps pause outside the door. "You ready in 
there, Dana?"

"Ready."

The door opened, admitting the always-cheerful assistant. 
This time her smile was hidden behind a sterile mask. "Dr. 
Parenti seems really pleased. He should be in shortly. Any 
last minute questions?"

"No, I think I know the drill." 

"Try to relax. The Valium should help." 

"I can feel it." 

"That's good. Do you need anything?"

"No, I just want to get this over with." 

"Dr. Parenti is a little concerned with transportation. The 
Valium won't have worn off by then."

"It's fine, Anna. I took a cab here and will take one 
back." 

"You sure? Is there anyone else you'd like to call?"

An image of her mom flashed briefly before her. "No. I'm 
fine."

There was a knock and Parenti, gowned and masked, entered 
the room, a tray held in one hand. "Well, Dana. Ready?"

"I'm good."

He opened her file, pulled out a checklist and turned to 
Anna.

"Estrogen patch?"

"Changed."

"Progesterone suppository?"

"Done."

"Valium?" 

"She's relaxed, right Dana?" 

"Very." 

"What have we determined with regard to transportation?"

"Dr. Parenti, I'm fine." Scully spoke up. "I'll call a cab 
when I'm ready to leave." 

"Well, all set to go then, unless you have any last minute 
questions, Dana?"

She took a deep breath. "No, none."

"Well then, we'll proceed."

***********

Chapter 28

Mulder navigated his vehicle with all the precision of an 
Indy 500 driver. He took the corners as fast as he dared, 
trying hard to keep his focus on the road and not the 
frustration he was feeling. He was beginning to feel as if 
his life was one big fuck over and everybody but him seemed 
to know what tune they were dancing to. 

Diana was still a sore spot between Scully and him and he 
was convinced Scully's silence on the matter would end 
quickly when she heard about the picture and the prints. If 
he ever had reason to doubt Diana's allegiance to him, and 
her part in the whole mess of things, her paw prints next 
to Krycek's cemented that. It was something he himself 
wasn't too keen on revisiting. It drew into question, not 
so much his choice where his ex was concerned, but whether 
or not he had any real choice in the first place, how much 
of his life was orchestrated by somebody else.  He had no 
desire to look too deeply into that aspect of things. 

What he couldn't figure out was Krycek's motive in giving 
the information he did to Scully and, by association, to 
him. It didn't make sense. Krycek never did anything unless 
there was something in it for himself. The threads seemed 
to run off in so many different directions it was hard to 
see any connection. But he was convinced there was one. He 
just needed to give his brain time to process it all. 

Which was not right now. He swore as he swerved to avoid 
the rear end of an SUV that had pulled out in front of him. 
He checked the time and would have patted himself on the 
back if he hadn't needed both hands on the wheel. He just 
might make it after all. Which was a good thing, 
considering he was going to be in several kinds of shit 
when the picture and print information went down. He 
pressed harder on the accelerator. No need to give her more 
ammunition than she already had. 

***********

Scully was feeling languid. The Valium was still working 
its magic and Anna had supplied her with a blanket. She was 
resting in the now dimly lit exam room, with the lower half 
of her body elevated. She was going to have a bit of a head 
rush when they set her upright once again. 

This time she had watched the procedure on the small screen 
as Parenti guided the catheter containing the fertilized 
embryos into her uterus. She had to take the doctor's word 
that all five of them had made it safely to their 
destination. It was now up to her body to finish the 
process. 

She fought back a tear as she considered the odds of one of 
the embryos actually becoming the baby she so desired. It 
was an ache like no other she had ever experienced. At 
times her arms were heavy with their emptiness. It was 
hard, each time her mother mentioned a baby being welcomed 
into another parishioner's home, to not hear the slight 
accusation in her voice. She knew her mom didn't mean it, 
but it just hollowed out the spot a little more and Scully 
was afraid that one day there would be nothing left of her, 
that she would just disappear into the background. Was it 
so wrong for her to want something of her own? To want to 
fill some of the emptiness?

She shifted, trying to get more comfortable on the hard 
table. They were insisting on keeping her for an hour. 
Extra insurance, Anna called it. But she knew it was 
because this was it for her. Even if someone could produce 
more embryos, she didn't think she would have the emotional 
stamina to go through it again.  She closed her eyes and 
allowed herself to drift. 

************


Chapter 29

Skinner opened his office door to find his chair occupied, 
a plume of bluish smoke swirling above his visitor's head. 
He had known Mulder's rant would grab the man's attention, 
but he hadn't expected him to show up this quickly. Not for 
the first time did he wonder at the extent of Spender's 
reach.

"You rang, Mr. Skinner?" 

Skinner closed the door behind him. "This office is non-
smoking."

"Yes, I think you've mentioned that a time or two." He made 
no move to put out his cigarette. "It seems one of your 
agents is a little upset."

Skinner took a deep breath. It was a fine line he walked 
between Spender's organization and Mulder's work. There was 
no question in his own mind where his allegiance lay, in 
spite of Mulder's misgivings at times, but to antagonize 
this man wouldn't be the smartest move. He had done things 
he wasn't proud of, but he would not regret those. That 
line of thinking wouldn't help anyone. Best to keep things 
simple and direct. "What do you know about the little girl, 
Hannah?" 

"What makes you think I have any information?"

"It's an educated guess."

"And what are you offering in exchange?"

Skinner leaned across the desk. "Is there any humanity in 
you? Mulder is right, you are the devil." He straightened 
up and stepped back. "Get out."

"Make no mistake, Mr. Skinner, I come and go as _I_ please. 
Your agent's rant was nothing more than a mild amusement." 
Spender stood up and crushed his cigarette out in the cup 
Skinner had on his desk. "I had nothing to do with the 
child. I would like to know where she is myself. Call me if 
you find anything." He paused. "Yelling at the ceiling was 
a most unique way of requesting a meeting."

Skinner watched him slip out the back door. 

"Well, that went well." He flipped the switch that 
activated the overhead fan and unlocked the office door, 
deciding he needed clean, fresh air. 

**************

When Scully's quiet rest was interrupted by the door 
opening and the light it allowed in, she groggily realized 
she'd actually fallen asleep and that her hour must be up. 
She waited for Anna to speak and as she began to fully wake 
up, hearing someone quietly making their way towards her. 
She stiffened, her senses alert now.  She was still lying 
with her feet elevated and facing away from the door, and 
struggled to try and force her sluggish body to respond.

"Scully?"

"Mulder. Dammit, I thought you were an intruder."

"Sorry."

He came into her view and she pulled the blanket more 
tightly around her. Her eyes had adjusted to the lower 
light level and the adrenalin rush had banished the last 
fuzziness caused by the Valium. 

"What time is it?"

"Just after five-thirty. The nurse said she'd be in to 
finish up in a minute." She felt him brush his hand along 
her arm. "How'd it go?"

"Fine." She felt him step away, the small contact lost. She 
knew her choice of words would sting, but she was hurting 
too. 

"That's good." There was a pause. "I'm sorry."

She hated looking up at him from this angle. He looked 
suitably contrite, but then he always managed to look the 
part. Usually his sorrow had more to do with coming up 
empty handed than her being ditched. She was tired of him 
always needing her absolution. 

"I had some new information."

"I see." And she did understand. If the circumstances had 
been different she might be able to muster a bit more 
tolerance, but this wasn't exactly him showing up late to 
pick her up from a crime scene. Sex hadn't brought 
familiarity. She was acutely aware of how little she had 
on, how defenseless a position she was in.

"Scully, I --"

The room was flooded with light as Anna entered, and Scully 
was grateful. "Time to get you upright, Dana." 

Scully had shut her eyes against the sudden brightness. "A 
little warning would have been nice, Anna."

"Here, let me get you level for a minute before you try 
sitting up."

Scully looked over to her partner who had retreated to the 
corner. "Mulder?" 

"I'll just be outside. Waiting." 

"We'll just be a minute, Mr. Mulder. I'll come get you when 
we're all ready." Anna closed the door behind him.

"Well, I guess he did make it after all Dana. Now, let me 
help you sit up. You'll likely be a bit dizzy at first."

The dizziness wasn't as problematic as the pins and needles 
in her legs and her freezing feet. She was glad she'd taken 
Anna's advice and brought warm socks. 

"I'll leave you to get dressed. Dr. Parenti will be in 
before you go with any final instructions. I'll let him 
know your partner is here so he can talk to the both of 
you,"

"Thanks so much, Anna." She reached out to give her hand a 
squeeze. "I've appreciated all you've done."

"You think good thoughts, positive thoughts, and it will 
all work out okay." She patted Scully's hand. "Now dress." 
She closed the door quietly. 


**********

It was a bit of a surreal moment for Mulder. He was leaning 
against the table where an hour or so ago his partner had 
lain and been impregnated -- or was it an attempted 
impregnation -- he wasn't sure of the correct terminology. 
It was the first time she'd allowed him this close to the 
process. The last time he'd discussed "Dana's attempted 
pregnancy" had been on the other side of Dr. Parenti's 
massive oak desk. And that had involved a whole lot of 
medical terminology he'd needed her to decipher for him 
afterwards. And paper work, there were always papers that 
needed to be signed. Jacking off in a cup had been the 
easiest part of the whole process. 

"Mr. Mulder?"

With a start he realized the doctor was addressing him, not 
his partner. She seemed to be looking everywhere but at the 
doctor. It took him a moment to process the question he'd 
been asked while off in his own head. Rest. He'd been 
talking about Scully resting. 

"She needs to stay off her feet?" 

"Yes. Better if she could keep her feet elevated. No heavy 
lifting, try and keep stress to a minimum, and no 
intercourse for two weeks." The doctor pushed a piece of 
paper across to them. "It's all here."

Mulder reached for the paper, noting the bright red flush 
on his partner's face. They had never defined their 
relationship to the doctor, and he wondered if there had 
been evidence of their activity from last night, prompting 
Parenti's inclusion of sex in his verbal instructions. Or 
maybe it was something he said the two times Scully had 
done this solo and it was standard fare. He had no way of 
knowing and there had been no reason for Scully to say 
anything to him.

Hell, the other two times she hadn't allowed him anywhere 
near her. He found out about the first failure only when 
he'd asked. And it had taken him a week after her 
appointment to get up the nerve to do so. The second time 
she was a little more considerate, but that was only 
because her appointment had been the morning Kersh sent her 
to New York without him.  She'd flown straight out 
afterwards and then the whole thing with Fellig happened. 
He felt sick all over again as he remembered his mad dash 
to New York, wondering if he was going to find out she 
hadn't made it.  Wondering if they'd managed to get her 
pregnant this time, only to lose the baby because Kersh had 
partnered her with an agent who should have been left 
pushing pencils. 

"Dr. Parenti? What about her abdominal injury?"

The doctor seemed startled, and not just because Mulder had 
interrupted him mid-sentence. "I thought.... Dana?"

"It's fine."

Mulder watched the doctor regard his partner, and one of 
the reasons she had been reluctant to include him slowly 
dawned on him.

"I had been led to understand that Mr. Mulder was aware of 
the risks involved as a result of your injuries." 

"He is." 

Her eyes silently pleaded with him to let it go, and he 
would. For now. He gave her a slight nod and watched as she 
visibly relaxed.

"I just need a refresher, if that's okay?" He was pretty 
sure Scully's version of things would be missing key parts.

"There are risks with any procedure and Dana needed to 
weigh the viability of the embryos against time."

With that one statement Mulder heard loud and clear that 
Parenti had surmised their relationship accurately. He 
wondered if there was any part left for him to play.

"The longer Dana waited, the less likely the outcome would 
be successful. Frankly, if we'd had the time I would have 
insisted we wait a little longer. While her injury has 
healed, there is the possibility of complications. In 
particular, things could be problematic when we look at the 
odds of in vitro producing multiples. One of the options we 
discussed was the possibility of selective abortion should 
that occur. One fetus will put some stress on the abdominal 
wall, but two or more might compromise things."

"Selective abortion?" He knew Scully. If she had agreed to 
that it was only in return for getting what she wanted, 
which was going ahead with the IVF against the doctor's 
recommendation. There was no way she would go through with 
something like that otherwise. He looked over at her. She 
had been unusually quiet throughout the exchange.

"Scully?"

"It's been a long day. Can we go over this again later?"

Her use of again wasn't fooling anybody and he wasn't going 
to play games with her health. "What kind of stress are we 
talking about here?" 

"One fetus will put some strain on the wall as it develops 
and grows. If there is a pregnancy, we will monitor the 
situation closely. There is the possibility of inducing 
early delivery, before the fetus has gotten too large, if 
it's warranted. Planning for a pre-term birth is different 
than having a premature delivery. We would have time to 
intervene medically, giving the fetus the appropriate 
surfactant drugs to aid in lung development, for instance."  

"How often is this done?" Mulder wanted to reach over and 
take his partner's hand, reassure her he had her best 
interests in mind, but refrained. He could feel her 
discomfort and her anger. 

"The delivery would be handled by a team of specialists. 
Dr. Scully's own obstetrician and a team from the neonatal 
unit would be in attendance. They would all be familiar 
with the procedure."

"Thank you, doctor."

"You're very welcome. Is there anything else I can 
clarify?"

"No, thanks. I'll make sure she's a proper couch potato 
tonight." His attempt at levity fell a little flat. Parenti 
merely lifted an eyebrow, a puzzled look on his face, and 
Scully continued to stare at point somewhere on the man's 
desk. 

The doctor stood, signaling the end to the appointment, 
reaching out to shake Mulder's hand and escort them to the 
door. 

Mulder wasn't sure how he felt about leaving the feigned 
neutrality of the doctor's office.

**************

Chapter 30

Mulder chanced a glance over at his partner. She had been 
silent since leaving Parenti's office and he wasn't sure 
what his next move was. Her hands were fisted in her lap 
and her eyes focused on the lights splitting the darkness 
outside the car window. If Scully were true to form she 
would be looking to send him home as quickly as possible. 
Asking to come in was out of the question. He would just 
have to push his way through her walls and force the issue. 

Running out on her early in the morning hadn't been his 
best move, but having a naked Scully next to him was 
unsettling. Watching her as she lay beside him, looking so 
young and vulnerable, had stirred up feelings in him he 
wasn't sure how to deal with. He had felt happy, 
contentment covering him like a warm blanket, but then an 
overwhelming sense of responsibility for the path she was 
pursuing pushed it all aside and he'd panicked. It had 
scared the hell out of him. 

He pulled up in front of her building and she was out of 
the vehicle before it was turned off. He followed her 
through the front door, a silent shadow keeping pace behind 
her. She ignored him throughout the elevator ride and the 
short walk down the hallway. She didn't acknowledge him 
until they had reached her door.

"Mulder�"

"I'm coming in, Scully." He watched her carefully, a tinge 
of satisfaction at his core as he read resignation in her 
face. 

"Whatever." She dropped her keys and bag inside the door. 
"I'm going to get out of this suit."

"Fine." He sat down on the armchair to wait. 

She was back moments later, her suit having been exchanged 
for an old pair of sweats. She settled herself on the couch 
across from him. 

"Why didn't you tell me?" 

She wouldn't meet his eyes and her answer was muffled 
behind her hands.

"Scully, can you tell me now?"

"Tell you what? You've heard most of it."

"Yeah, except why I had to hear it from the doctor at the 
eleventh hour."

"When would you have had me tell you? In the shower, during 
the fiasco that passed for a CDC operation? Or maybe I 
should have found a canine screen name of my own and joined 
your cozy little chat with Karin Berquist?"

"That isn't fair. This has nothing to do with a case. It's 
personal and I'm half of the equation."

"So now it's personal? It isn't your body. This is my 
life."

"I never once interfered with your right to decide, Scully, 
but we entered into this together, and right now I feel 
like one more person I care about is fucking me over."

"I am not Diana or Phoebe."
 
He raked his hands through his hair. "I didn't mean to 
imply that you were."

"I know that. But you can't confuse my choices with your 
bad experiences."

"I'm not. But you can't expect me to just step aside."

"Why not?"

"Because that isn't how I work."

"So, tell me."

"I don't know if you're ready to hear what I really think 
about the whole thing."

"Of course I am. I'm a big girl. If you're pissed at me, 
spit it out."

"I don't know if this conversation will fit with the 
doctor's no stress directive."

"In case you hadn't noticed, we've already passed the no 
stress mark."

"Okay. Why now? Why a baby? Why not another dog? Or are 
your motives purely selfish?"

"That is uncalled for."

"This is all your call. You decided to go ahead with this 
now. Without letting me in on all the facts. Shit, Scully, 
you should still be taking it easy according to Parenti. 
What if you do get pregnant and it puts pressure on the 
scar?"

"Oh, I see."

"No, I don't think you do _see_. Don't you know...I'd do 
anything for you? Anything. Even if it meant letting you 
go."

"I'm not asking for --"

"Don't, Scully."

"No, _you_ don't, Mulder. You consume me. You eat me up and 
spit me out. I'm only allowed in as far as you'll let me. 
You say you'd do anything for me, yet you keep key pieces 
of information from me and dole them out only when it 
serves your needs or you're forced to." She took a deep 
breath. "I know I come second to your search, I've come to 
terms with that." He moved to interject, but one look 
closed his mouth. "This is my reality and about what I 
need, Mulder. Maybe some of the reasons I want this baby so 
much _are_ selfish."

He winced, hearing his words spat back at him, but knew she 
was far too angry to pander to any regrets he might have 
about his choice of words. 

"This is my decision. You're just pissed you can't control 
every aspect of my life."

"I've never wanted to control you. To be able to control 
someone you'd have to be allowed to get close enough. You 
keep your heart behind an ice wall."

"I think you should go."

"No."

"No?"

"This time we finish the discussion."

"This isn't a discussion."

Mulder took a deep breath. It wasn't. It was a full out 
fight, one that had been brewing for a long time. She 
tended to collect problems, like other people collected 
dolls or stuffed animals. She gathered them up and tucked 
them away inside. He didn't think there could be any room 
left. On the other hand, he tended to ignore things, and he 
was sick of ignoring things. She was wound up tight as a 
ball, which didn't bode well for the doctor's instructions 
to avoid stress. 

"Truce, Scully. But I'm not going until we talk, and I do 
mean talk. I'll go make some tea while we both calm down."

"Can't."

"You can't what? Can't talk?" 

"The tea. I can't have caffeine." 

"So, I'll make herbal. I can tolerate peaches or whatever 
that floral shit is you drink sometimes." He smiled in an 
attempt to lighten things.

"It's not peach. It's mint. And it's in the blue canister." 
She failed to return his smile and he could only hope that 
the evening wasn't totally shot to hell.

**********

He had to admit the tea was soothing. It allowed him time 
to collect his thoughts and calm down. There had been a 
moment during their heated exchange when he heard his 
father's angry voice in place of his own. The last thing he 
wanted to do was become the man his father had become. 

"Where's your cell phone, Scully?"

She moved to get up off the couch. "I think it's --"

"Just tell me. You're supposed to be resting." He leaned 
over and gently pushed her back into the semi-reclining 
position she had been in. 

"I'm not an invalid." Her protest was half-hearted. 

This was a rare opportunity for him. He didn't often get a 
chance to tell her what to do, and have her listen. 
"Where?"

She pointed to the front hall where her purse and keys 
still sat on the floor. "It's in the outside pocket. Why?"

"Watch." He took both hers and his phone and moved close 
enough to let her see him turning them off. 

"Mulder, what if someone needs to get in touch with either 
of us?"

"It won't be all night." He paused. "Right?"

"You tell me. You're insisting we do this now."

He set the phones on the table and returned to the 
armchair. "May I?" He began to move the chair closer to the 
couch. 

"So long as it goes back to that exact spot."

Sometimes he had an overwhelming urge to run through her 
apartment and push everything out of place, but he doubted 
he'd get more than a raised eyebrow for his trouble. And 
then of course, he'd have to put it all to rights again. He 
moved the chair as close as he dared. 

"Your concern is that this will interfere with your work." 
She took a small sip of her tea, then set the cup on the 
table in front of her.

"That's not true." 

"Yes it is, Mulder. And it's okay. I understood going into 
this that I was on my own."

"You are not alone. How many times do I have to say that 
before you'll believe it?"

"Then explain this morning."

**************


Chapter 31

Krycek sat back, ice cubes clinking against the glass he 
held. He eyed his companion carefully. He had trusted her 
in the past but wasn't fooled; past experience meant 
nothing when one was involved with the likes of Spender and 
his cronies. Krycek had played this game long enough to 
keep his cards close to his chest. He set the glass down. 

"Well?"

"She appears -- normal is the word I'd use."

"Normal?"

"Yes. Her blood shows none of the anomalies of the Emily 
series."

"So? That means what, exactly?"

"It means she won't need the treatments."

"What about the other abilities?"

"I won't know until she wakes up again and I've had a 
chance to run her through some tests." Marita sat down in 
the chair opposite him.

"How much of that shit did you give her?"

"I know what I'm doing." 

"That isn't what I asked. I want to know how long she'll be 
out this time."

"Three hours, about the same as last time. If we need to 
keep her out any longer I'll have to switch to something 
stronger."

Krycek picked up his glass and took a sip of his drink. He 
was exhausted. Hannah had kept him up most of the first 
night, scared and crying for her mother. He'd had little in 
the way of resources to soothe a small child. Even one who 
for all intents and purposes had been more lab rat than 
beloved child. Mulder and Scully should have deciphered the 
genetic testing by now, and it gave him a small amount of 
satisfaction to be able to screw with Mulder and that prick 
Spender at the same time. It wasn't a total mind fuck for 
Mulder this time. There had been a certain amount of 
benevolence in giving him and Scully the information. He 
wasn't completely heartless.

"Alex." 

He was startled out of his reverie by the sharp tone in her 
voice. "What?"

"I asked you if you'd had any contact with Spender or 
Diana."

Krycek tried to read her face, to guess at what motivated 
the question. Marita's eyes gave nothing away, her 
expression neutral. "Limited contact."

"Screw you, Alex. You brought me into this; I need to know 
what you've --"

"I'd love to, Marita. Screw you, that is. What have we got 
. . . three hours?"

"Fuck off, Alex."

"Ooo, all this dirty talk is turning me on." He grabbed his 
crotch for emphasis. 

"You called me, Alex. Time to share with the rest of the 
class. Maybe we'll have time for play later." A glimpse of 
her tongue licking her top lip caused an immediate 
reaction. 

Krycek repositioned himself on the sofa. He should have 
known better than to play this game with Marita. She had 
proved herself more than capable between the sheets. And 
she was right. He had called her in during the wee hours of 
the second night when Hannah refused to be comforted. Who 
knew the kid would have been this attached to Kristen? The 
clone hadn't shown much aptitude in the mothering 
department. 

"Okay." He set his drink down and leaned forward. "Limited 
as in Spender hasn't got a fucking clue that she's here. No 
one but you knows about this place. I had a fit of 
compassion, or stupidity, take your pick. She's just a 
kid."

"Don't worry, Alex. I won't tell anyone you have a heart."

"I made a promise, Marita. That's all."

"Suit yourself, Alex. I do understand, you know. None of us 
will walk away from this unscathed. We all have our 
skeletons."

He knew as he watched her eyes become unfocused that she 
was reliving her own personal decent into hell. She'd never 
told him much of the story, of how she came to be stuck in 
the same web as he and the other unfortunates. It seemed 
the fingers of the Consortium reached into all facets of 
life, across continents and seas. Age, race, or gender made 
no difference. They took whomever they wished and the only 
way to survive was to worm your way into the top layers. 
Anyone below was deemed available for whatever was needed, 
from test subject to sacrificial lamb. He and Marita were 
survivors. It was the thing that kept them bonded to one 
another. It didn't mean he trusted her. 

"What did you plan on doing with her?" 

"Get her out."

"Just like that?"

He stood and moved behind the armchair she was sitting in. 
He could just glimpse the tops of her breasts. He leaned 
close to her ear. "Yes, just like that."

"Alex?"

"Shh. We still have time." He undid the first few buttons 
and spread her blouse open, letting his fingers brush her 
breasts. "Do you remember, Marita?"

"Yes, I remember." 

He pulled her breasts out of the bra, one at a time with 
his good hand, liking how erect her nipples were already. 
He loved her breasts. She groaned as his fingers circled 
one and then the other. 

"Alex?"

She tipped her head back and he caught her lips roughly 
with his. "Yes, kotenok?"

"Fuck me."

"I thought you'd never ask." 

*****************

Chapter 32

Mulder swallowed, trying to get rid of the lump clogging 
his throat. Scully was partly correct. He was worried about 
the effect a pregnancy would have on the work. A baby -- 
the possibility of a baby, that whole scenario, worried 
him. He had meant it when he said all those things about 
her not being alone. But if he was completely honest, there 
was a part of him that knew Scully could handle the whole 
thing on her own. He had been counting on that 
independence. The sex, well the sex had been an unexpected 
twist. It was a pleasant twist, but still an unexpected 
one. 

The sex complicated things more than a potential baby did. 
As long as the baby was only a potential --

"Well, Mulder?"

He pulled himself back to the room and regarded her. Scully 
gave nothing away; her facial features were schooled into 
that neutral face he hated so much. He'd rather have her 
anger than indifference. Even her eyes, usually expressive, 
were closed off. "I didn't plan on it."

"Plan on what? The sex or taking off?"

He took a deep breath and decided to go for raw honesty. 
"Either." 

"Oh."

"Let me explain." He leaned in closer and took hold of her 
hands. When she tried to pull away he held on tight. "Let 
me do this my way, okay?"

"Just don't touch me right now."

The words were quietly spoken, and he was reminded that her 
game face was just that. For a moment he'd let himself be 
fooled into thinking she really was unaffected. He let her 
hand drop. 

"Scully, I am in this, all the way. I'm not leaving you on 
your own. But you can't hand me only the bits of 
information you think I should have." When she started to 
protest he put his hand to her mouth. 

"You asked a question, now let me answer it my way." When 
she nodded he continued.

"For instance, this thing with your abdominal injury. Do 
you know how much of a shit I felt like sitting in that 
office? I felt -- like one of those men who keep the little 
woman pregnant even when it compromises her health. How do 
you think I would handle it if it did cause a problem for 
you? You keep me in the dark about things that affect your 
health. You kept me away for the first two IVF attempts -- 
I didn't even know that the first one had failed until I 
asked you a week later. And selective abortion? Give me a 
little credit here. You accused me of doling out 
information. Well pot meet kettle. You can't keep doing it 
like this. You can't just hand me the bits you think I can 
handle or you want me to know. Hell, the sex was easy. It's 
all this relationship shit that's complicating things." He 
leaned back in the chair, spent.

"We don't have a relationship, Mulder."

"The hell we don't." He sat back up. "Maybe the problem is 
that we haven't defined what this relationship is supposed 
to be."

"Is that the psychologist talking?"

"No Scully, it's not. If it were, he'd be telling both of 
us to get as far away from each other as possible. He'd 
tell you that your desire to have a child is an attempt to 
bring some meaning to your life, to leave something behind 
when you're gone, that you're feeling the panic so many 
women feel when they become aware that time is passing them 
by, that it's now or never. He'd say that my involvement is 
allowing me to have the illusion of intimacy without 
actually having to be intimate. Well, before the sex 
anyway. Then again, sex doesn't always mean intimacy, does 
it?"

"No, it doesn't." 

He could hear the hurt in her words. "Look, I didn't mean 
to hurt you by taking off. I -- you confuse me."

"_I_ confuse _you_?"

"Maybe we confuse each other. I know what that night meant 
to me. What did it mean to you?" 

"Oh that's ripe Mulder. You haven't said shit with all your 
talk and now you want me to reveal all?" She sat up and he 
could read the fury in her eyes.

"You're supposed to be relaxing. Maybe we should pick this 
up later." He attempted to guide her back down into the 
pillows, but she had anchored herself with her arms. The 
look on her face was...it was.... He leaned forward and 
kissed her. And kept kissing until he felt her lips soften 
and her mouth open, letting him in. He tried to put 
everything he felt into it. Words were just words, but this 
was -- ah shit -- she was pulling his hair and the kiss was 
abruptly ended.

"What the hell did you do that for?" He massaged the back 
of his scalp. 

"Do you just think you can kiss me and I'll capitulate like 
the 'good little woman?'"

"No I don't. I'm just sick of over-analyzing every fucking 
thing we do or don't do. I know I'm not the best at all 
this stuff. Hell, I'm probably fodder for a bestseller by 
some shrink somewhere. Can't we just let things go at their 
own pace?"

"Answer the question then, Mulder. If you're so enamored 
with me, why did I wake up alone?"

"Because I'm an ass. Because I have issues with intimacy. 
Sex is easy -- sex I can do, even all by myself. All this 
other stuff, it scares me. Listening to Parenti talk about 
what could happen if your abdominal wall isn't strong 
enough. And then there's the whole idea that you could be 
pregnant with my baby. Do you know how much of a turn on 
that is?"

He took a deep breath and decided to go for broke. No more 
hinting; it wasn't exactly working anyway. And confessions 
during sex didn't count for much.

"I love you, Scully. And it scares the shit out of me."

************ 

Chapter 33

Diana pushed the video back in and hit fast forward. The 
grainy images of Kristen and a much younger Hannah filled 
the small screen. She hit the pause button. Kristen had 
been the first success with the new cloning technique. 
Retrieving her DNA from the site of the fire had been a 
stroke of luck. Mostly luck. It helped that Spender had 
Mulder under surveillance and the snitch was ambitious 
enough to smell opportunity when it presented itself. 
Letting the clone believe she had been saved through the 
blood of those pathetic friends of hers was sheer genius. 
She inched the video forward in slow motion. This 
particular day showed the two making cookies. Well, Kristen 
anyway; Hannah was just rolling flour around.

It was a testament to the abilities of the scientist that 
Kristen never questioned the living arrangements. The two 
were kept confined until recently when the team deemed the 
new technique a success, and decided to push for phase two 
of the plan. They set them up in a real house, with 
Spender's blessing of course. He made a compelling argument 
for testing the product in a real situation, and it helped 
that Hannah was Samantha's child. The old man had a soft 
spot for her. Diana had her own ideas as to why that might 
be, but had found no evidence to support them yet. One day 
she'd find what she needed.

The scientists couldn't wait to tinker with the clone once 
again, giving her new memories to go along with the new 
life. Something had gone wrong though, and Kristen had 
behaved contrary to what was predicted. Diana hoped there 
was a clue somewhere in the video that would tell her why 
Kristen had contacted Mulder. 

She was startled when a cold hand touched her arm. She 
gasped, her fear turning quickly to anger when she saw 
whose hand it was. "Don't do that again."

"_I_ will do what I please, Diana." Spender released her 
arm. 

She hated all he had forced her to do, for what she had 
become. She hated him because he made her give up Fox, 
because he had allowed her to fall in love only to cruelly 
pull her away. She hated that he could fill her with lust 
for him even while hating him so thoroughly. And she hated 
that the project had become almost as important, as 
meaningful, and as necessary to her as it was to all the 
other key players. God help her, she believed in what they 
were doing, as twisted as it was. 

"What have you found?" He lit a cigarette.

"Nothing yet." She ignored the hand he had now set on her 
shoulder, tried to stifle the sneeze the first waft of 
smoke always elicited. "I'm only on the first set of 
tapes."

Spender leaned forward, pushing himself into her ass. "How 
long will you be?"

She chose to ignore him, to ignore the obvious ploy to get 
her on her back, or her knees, again. "Long. I don't want 
to miss anything."

"Oh." She heard the disappointment in his voice. She could 
only get away with rejecting his advances when the project 
was at stake. It was the only forgivable rebuff. She always 
managed to find enough problems to keep the contact to a 
minimum and if he was wise to her tricks he kept it to 
himself. There were any number of underlings, men and 
women, ready to spread their legs or their asses for the 
big boss, hoping it bought their advancement to the inner 
circle. It didn't hurt that he was a decent lay. 

"Well, then." He backed away and she heard him shift a 
little. Probably adjusting his dick in his pants before he 
walked out. Wouldn't do to let the others see him leaving 
in that state. She felt a slight twitch and fought against 
squeezing her legs together as she recalled the size of his 
cock. Secretly she believed he'd had the scientists 
engineer that. God knows they could do just about anything. 

"Why don't you come back in an hour or so?" She reached 
back and stroked him through his pants. "I should need a 
break by then."

He grunted in affirmation, pushing her hand away. 

She heard the door close behind him and shrugged her 
shoulders, directing her comments to the frozen images on 
the screen.

"It's just sex, after all."

*************

Chapter 34

The ice tinkled against the side of the glass as Mulder 
rolled it across his forehead. The cold felt good. Almost 
as good as the burn the scotch made as it slid down his 
throat. It was late. He could tell because the traffic 
noise was almost nonexistent, and he'd heard the neighbor 
across the hall come home from his pub-crawl not too long 
ago. Jerry hadn't come home alone. There had been a lot of 
giggling and drunken stumbling before the sounds became 
muffled behind the closed door of the apartment opposite.

Mulder dragged the glass along his cheek to his mouth and 
took a sip. A sliver of light cut the darkness where it 
snuck in through the partially drawn blinds. The alcohol 
was doing little to relieve his somber mood. 

"Well, Mulder, you shit, she may have believed you this 
time, but you sure didn't win any brownie points." He 
lifted his glass into the air in silent homage to his 
absent partner and proceeded to drain it in one swallow. 

He hadn't expected her to fall into his arms, her own 
expression of undying love and devotion on her lips. He 
didn't live in a Harlequin-induced reality, but he had 
expected more than a fuck you. Okay, so she didn't actually 
say the words, _fuck you_. He leaned forward and poured 
himself another glass. Not a gentleman's single or double 
shot, but a sloppy, full glass of the amber liquid. His 
father would have been horrified; he was always so proper 
when he was getting shit-faced. As if it made a difference 
whether one did it in neat one-ounce shots or straight out 
of the bottle. Drunk was drunk. 

Their world didn't allow for many happy endings. Sometimes 
it was enough that they both survived to see another day, 
but he had expected more from her, and he wasn't sure if he 
was willing to try anymore. Six years was a lot of time. 
Granted, he hadn't been in love with her all of those 
years, but what they had together was forged during that 
time. She was willing to use his sperm, didn't want anyone 
else to father her child, but couldn't see herself settling 
down with him? He wondered if this was all there would ever 
be for the two of them. A knock on the door sliced through 
his thoughts.

Go away, Scully. 

The knocking grew louder, more insistent. 

He saluted the door and took another drink.

"Mulder, open up."

Shit. He didn't want to deal with Skinner right now.

"Mulder, I'm coming in one way or another."

He pulled himself up and made it to the door without 
banging his knees or stumbling. Chalk one up for the 
Mulders' ability to hold their liquor. He turned the dead 
bolt roughly and staggered back to the couch. He figured 
Skinner would overlook his lack of manners.

"I'm surprised you can see the glass well enough to aim for 
your mouth." Skinner flipped the hall light on.

"Fuck." Mulder closed his eyes tight against the sudden 
brightness. "Turn it off. Please."

He opened one eye slightly to see Skinner holding up the 
nearly empty bottle. "Is this the first, second or third?"

"I stopped keeping track yesterday, but you can check under 
the couch if you really need to know."

"Scully called me."

"Well, isn't that magnanimous of her."

"She's worried about you. Worried enough to call and 
interrupt my evening when you wouldn't answer her calls."

"Sorry, sir," -- he opened his arms wide spilling some of 
the scotch -- "but as you can see, I'm _fine_. And that's a 
Dana Katherine Scully _fine_. You tell her that."

"Don't be such an ass, Mulder."

"If you're not going to leave, then at least sit. This is 
hurting my neck. And feel free to pour yourself one." He 
indicated the bottle Skinner still held. "I think there's 
one left in there. Glasses are -- you know where they are. 
Or you can just drain it."

"No thanks." Skinner set the scotch on the table as he sat 
down. 

"So, I'm fine and you don't want a drink. What can I do for 
you then, Sir?"

"You know, Mulder, I don't pretend to understand your 
relationship with Scully, but why she puts up with your 
crap, I'll never know. When are you going to grow up? This 
is the second time in less than a week that you've got 
shit-faced with," -- he turned the bottle around -- 
"Glenlivet. I don't know why you bother with the expensive 
stuff; you'd never know the difference past the first few 
shots."

"Got it. I'm an ass, I don't deserve either Scully or good 
whisky and I need to grow up. All done?"

He was taken aback when Skinner leaned forward, his face 
set in what he assumed was Skinner's take no prisoners 
military mask. He had pretty much drunk himself sober, and 
any remaining fuzziness fled at the cold look in his boss's 
eyes. 

"Now you listen to me, _Agent_ Mulder. You asked me to help 
you and I have. I've put my neck on the line for you more 
than once this week, but if I have to choose between you 
and Scully there will be no contest. Get your ass off this 
couch and get back over there. And take a shower first. You 
smell like a bar." 

Skinner stood. "I don't know what the two of you are up to 
all the time, but I am not stupid. Never mistake my 
avoidance of certain topics for ignorance; if I don't know, 
I cannot be coerced into giving up information." He reached 
into his trench coat, pulled out a white business size 
envelope and dropped it on Mulder's lap. 

"Get moving, Mulder. I don't want to get another phone call 
from Scully tonight." Skinner reached across and flipped on 
the table lamp, then moved over to the door. "I'll see you 
Monday morning at eight. In my office. Don't be late."

Mulder watched the door close and set his glass on the 
table. He picked up the envelope before getting up to lock 
the door. With a sickening feeling, he realized Scully must 
have been really worried to call Skinner late on a Saturday 
night. And Skinner was right, he smelled awful.

He made his way to the shower, opening the envelope as he 
went, pulling out the papers it contained. A picture 
fluttered to the floor and he bent to pick it up. Shit, 
that hurt his eyes and his head. He detoured to the kitchen 
to down three Advil's with a large glass of water and then 
focused his attention on the picture.

It was actually a photocopy of a picture, but the quality 
wasn't bad. It showed the same white building from the 
picture he had found at the crime scene, but this time the 
name GenTech was clearly visible. A younger Diana posed by 
the front door, smiling for the camera, Strughold's hand on 
her shoulder. He guessed it was either spring or fall as 
both Diana and Strughold had sweaters on. There were only a 
couple of evergreen bushes visible at the edge of the 
picture. 

He scrutinized his former lover closely. They had met for 
the first time in early 1986 and had pursued a tumultous 
relationship for the next four years. Their on again/off 
again relationship had culminated in a brief engagement 
just prior to the discovery of the X Files in 1990. He 
still had both wedding bands somewhere. He wasn't sure why 
he'd kept either of them. When things fell apart later on 
that year they did so with a bang. Diana took off for 
Europe and he was left with his Files. He still felt he got 
the better end of the deal. 

This picture of her appeared to have been taken around the 
time they first met, and knowing what he did now about the 
machinations of the Consortium, her appearance with 
Strughold made perfect sense. It still hurt to realize he 
had been manipulated from the beginning, but it no longer 
surprised him. 

He made his way back to the bathroom as he unfolded the 
papers. The numbers made little sense to him, but -- shit.

He recognized some of the names. Kids. These were the kids. 
There were other numbers that appeared to cross-reference 
the names to. He flipped to the second sheet. Initials and 
numbers � parents, he guessed, when he recognized Scully's 
initials. He hastily shoved the papers back in the envelope 
and decided to forgo the shower. He needed to see her right 
away, before anyone discovered what Skinner had given him.

He grabbed his jacket and his keys. There was another 
question that begged to be answered in all of this. 

How the hell had Walter Skinner gotten hold of this 
information?

*************

Chapter 35

Krycek felt the weight of his gun as a small comfort while 
he waited. The street was crowded and far enough away from 
where he was staying that he wasn't worried about someone 
finding Marita. He hadn't wanted to leave the warm confines 
of his bed, but this meeting had been prearranged. It would 
not bode well for him to miss it. 

He rocked from foot to foot observing the crowd, looking 
for anyone who might have been sent to intercept. There 
were times, like today, when he grew tired of the whole 
cloak and dagger routine. There had been a time once, when 
he'd wanted a different kind of life for himself. It was 
his misfortune to have been born to something other than an 
ordinary life. 

"Planning a little trip, are you Alex?"

Krycek was adept at thinking on his feet and had learned 
long ago to keep his cards and his emotions close to his 
chest. It kept him in the game despite Spender's attempts 
to rattle him. He learned to lie brazenly, a skill he 
employed with regularity, a tactic to protect his own 
interests. He was a master at ferreting out information and 
using it to his own advantage. It also helped that he was 
resourceful when it came to saving his own ass, even when 
it meant selling out those he cared for. 

Although he felt a modicum of _something_ towards Marita, 
he would not hesitate to pin the child's disappearance on 
her if the need arose. 

"Arriving, leaving, does it matter?" 

Spender pulled out a cigarette, making a small production 
of lighting it. "That depends on who or what you may be 
concealing, doesn't it, Alex?"

"Your eyes must be failing you." Krycek held his good hand 
up, fingers splayed. "See, nothing here and," -- he lifted 
his artificial arm -- "well, not much I can do with this 
one now, is there?"

"My mistake." Spender's voice was oily. "Pity about the 
child disappearing. Wouldn't you agree, Alex?" 

"Pity? Or opportunity? It's all in how you look at it, 
isn't it?" Krycek felt for the gun tucked at his side.

"There won't be any need for that." Spender focused briefly 
on where Krycek had placed his hand. "It's just an 
observation."

He let his partially finished cigarette drop to the 
sidewalk. "Make sure you remember our agreement."

"Do I have a choice?"

"We all have choices. Have a good day, Alex."

Krycek watched until Spender disappeared around the street 
corner. 

**************

Mulder had meant to go straight to Scully's place. He had 
called a cab and had been waiting for it outside the front 
door when the call came. Now he found himself heading in 
the opposite direction and on his way to meeting yet 
another anonymous informant who promised to give him what 
he needed. The grey buildings were a blur as the taxi sped 
down the beltway towards Boomers, a trendy piano bar on the 
other side of the Potomac. A rather odd choice for a 
meeting, considering the back alleys, secluded garages, and 
deserted landscape most of his contacts chose. He didn't 
recognize the voice, but considering the venue, figured 
he'd be as safe as he could be.

He thought about calling Scully. He'd started dialing her 
number a couple of times but disconnected before finishing. 

When he got to the bar and took up residence in the back 
corner as instructed, he thought about calling again, but 
this time didn't even make it to flipping the phone open, 
instead turning it off and tucking it back in his pocket 
with his keys. He didn't want to have an argument with her 
over the phone, nor did he want to worry her at this time 
of night, not when she was supposed to be resting.

He opted for black coffee and a glass of water instead of 
more alcohol, noticing the waitress wrinkle her nose 
slightly as she took his order. He wasn't sure if it was 
because of how he looked or how he smelled. He would have 
to stop and clean up before he -- 

Ah fuck. What did we have here?

"Let me guess, reports of your death were premature?"

"Sarcasm never did suit you, Fox." Diana Fowley slid into 
the opposite chair. 

************
Marita tucked the blanket around Hannah, a small, 
humourless smile on her face. She marveled that Alex could 
be so na�ve as to still believe he was in control; to think 
that those around him were blind to his machinations. She 
had long ago dismissed such notions as the romantic stuff 
of spy novels, stories in which the good guys always won 
and the handsome hero got the girl. She was no longer a 
girl, perhaps no longer capable of basic female biology. 
Her blood flowed with alien technology as surely as Alex 
would bleed red if she cut him. 

She no longer held any illusions regarding whose game she 
played; it was neither hers nor his. She wondered if Krycek 
would ever realize it, but concluded it didn't really 
matter. There was this one thing she could do, and she 
would, damn the consequences to her or their precious 
project. Hannah stirred and she stroked the little girl's 
arm, quieting her. She wouldn't wake for several hours yet. 

The rocking of the train was soothing and though she 
allowed herself to relax, she fought the desire to let 
herself drift too much. She had hidden her tracks well, but 
it wouldn't do to be overconfident or to underestimate 
Spender's reach. She felt fairly safe choosing this 
roundabout method to her destination, but had learned early 
on to be ready for anything. 

"Wurden Sie gesehen?" A large woman slid into the seat 
across from Marita and Hannah. 

"Nein. Englisch, Ilse. Er setzt zu viel Aufmerksamkeit auf 
uns."

"You are correct; it would not do to have others take 
notice." Ilse's accent was thick. "She will sleep, yes?"

"For at least three more hours. I have more if we need to 
keep her out longer."

"I hope it is not so, Mari. It is not good for one so 
little."

Marita smiled at Ilse's use of her pet name. "It will be 
okay. I made sure, Tante. It's good to see you again."

"Gut. Good," she quickly added in English. "And it is good 
to see you too, Mari."

"Thank you for helping us."

"How could I not, my little Mari? These men, they have 
changed, become evil. You would do well to be rid of them."

Ilse wasn't a blood relative, but she had essentially 
raised Marita. None of what had gone on with the project 
and Marita's family's role in it had gone unnoticed by the 
German housekeeper, but she had managed to look after the 
Covarrubias household without too much interference from 
members of the Consortium. Those who were present during 
that time seemed to give a wide berth to the woman, all 
except for Spender, of course. Spender had been the only 
regular visitor who dared make suggestions to the large, 
abrasive woman. Even Strughold held his tongue with Ilse. 

It had surprised Marita when Jeffery had attempted to 
rescue her from Fort Marlene, but it was Strughold who 
called for Ilse when Krycek dumped her on his doorstep. 
That had been after the whole El Rico debacle, and she was 
grateful he'd failed to procure her release until much 
later that fateful night. She was certain she would have 
been among the dead. 

"Mari, you are miles from me." Ilse leaned forward and 
patted her hand.

"Sorry." 

"What about her mama?"

Marita's smile was cold and the Mari of Ilse's memories 
faded as the woman she had become replaced her. Marita felt 
it as if it was a physical change that took place. 

Every bit the professional, she straightened up in her 
seat. She felt a slight tinge of regret at leaving Alex in 
the lurch, though her pity was short lived. Alex wouldn't 
think twice at using her if the need arose. His biggest 
flaw was in thinking he could play with fire and not get 
burned. Alex had an unrealistic view of his own 
indestructibility. 

"She will be taken care of, Tante."

"This is good then. You rest now, Mari. Ilse will keep 
watch." She lifted her jacket slightly, giving Marita a 
glimpse of the weapon tucked into the waistband of her 
pants. 

"I am not so blind after all." She let the jacket close.

Marita smirked. No, not so blind. Perhaps she had 
underestimated Ilse all these years. She leaned her head 
back and closed her eyes.

***************

"Can I buy you a drink, Fox?" Diana chuffed quietly at his 
startled look. "Has it been so long since anyone has 
exercised manners around you that you've forgotten to use 
yours?"

"Manners? From you and that band of thieves you've thrown 
in with?"

"Are you drunk?" She noted his reddened eyes and the smell 
of whiskey that seemed to surround him.

"What if I am?" 

"I didn't come here for a fight, Fox."

"What _are_ we doing here, Diana? And while we're on that 
subject, should I be checking out the colour of your 
blood?"

She had expected hostility, but what she hadn't banked on 
was the coldness. She'd forgotten how frosty it could get 
when Fox felt he was backed into a corner. Add alcohol to 
the mix and he could be downright nasty.

"I'm here at great personal cost." She waited until the 
waitress had placed a glass of white wine in front of her 
before continuing. "If they found out I called you, that 
I've seen you, well...." She let the sentence hang.

"If you're trying to appeal to some sense of loyalty I 
might still have towards you, you've grossly overestimated 
your importance in my life, Diana. But that isn't unusual 
for you, is it? You always did have a twisted sense of your 
own importance."

She winced at the calculating tone in his voice. He could 
certainly be a bastard when he wanted to. This wasn't going 
how she planned at all. 

"I'm sorry, Fox." She really was sorry. Sorry for leaving 
him, for her part in deceiving him, sorry for all he had 
suffered knowing she had contributed to it. She watched his 
expression soften just the tiniest bit. "My life hasn't 
been my own for a long time."

"Neither has mine, Diana. But I haven't resorted to selling 
out my friends." His voice had lost the edge and he 
appeared worn out. For the first time she noted the grey 
under his eyes. Sleep had always been a precious and rare 
commodity for him.

"Just friends? I was hoping I had meant more than that at 
one time." She slid her hand across the small table to lay 
her fingers gently on top of his and was encouraged when he 
didn't pull away. "I never meant to hurt you."

"No one does, do they? But it happens all the same. Why 
don't you save us both the trouble of playing this game and 
just tell me why you wanted to meet me." And then he did 
pull away from her.

She took a deep breath. "I -- we know -- Hannah -- that 
you've been pursuing the case --"

"Is that the royal _we_? The Spender and Fowley we?" 

"Fox --"

"So far you haven't said anything helpful. Most of my 
informants provide at least a crumb of useful information, 
Diana."

"It wasn't easy to come here, you know. If anyone were to 
find out --"

He cut her off. "Yes, you keep saying that. Is there 
anything else?"

"I just thought you'd want to know about Hannah, that's 
all." She fished a ten-dollar bill from her purse and 
placed it on the table. "I guess I was mistaken."

"Wait." His hand on her arm burned with familiarity. "I 
want to hear what you have to say."

"Okay." Diana settled back into her chair. "The cloning 
program was one of the key features of the Consortium's 
endeavors. But you know something about that, don't you?"

"My sister?"

"Yes."

"Do you know where she is?"

"That is the one thing I don't know. 

"Is she alive?"

She shook her head. "If I knew anything I would have told 
you. Honestly, Fox.  I owed you that much. The program -- 
they've been at it for years, further back than anyone 
realizes. Kristen had been the third of three clones they'd 
created in a new series."

"We guessed that much from the lack of green blood, Diana."

"Yes, I imagine you would have." His use of we was not lost 
on her.  "Unfortunately, the tradeoff caused instability in 
the cerebral cortex. The first clone degenerated at an 
alarming rate. Her behaviour became more erratic and 
bizarre until the staff became worried that she would hurt 
someone. They had to destroy her."

He nodded for her to continue.

"The second wasn't much better; she just took a little 
longer to break down. The third time was the charm. The 
Japanese scientists were convinced they'd solved the 
problem. There appeared to be an incompatibility between 
two of the elements used to make the synthetic blood. I 
don't understand all the interactions."

"Scully would." 

She stiffened at the mention of his partner, though he 
seemed to be talking more to himself. "They gave Hannah to 
her. Hannah needed someone to look after her and they were 
interested in what might happen."

"Why Kristen? Why not one of the Samantha's?"

"I don't know." But she did. Spender didn't like her 
attachment to any member of the Mulder family, including 
Hannah. He took perverse delight in dangling Fox in front 
of her and watching her squirm. She felt she owed her 
former lover to at least see his sister's child raised with 
someone who cared for her, who saw her as more than a lab 
rat. She had been allowed to take care of the little girl 
for the first year. By the end of that year her uncle and 
Spender decided she was far too invested in the little girl 
and the Kristen solution was hatched. 

"What happened?"

"Kristen was genuinely fond of Hannah. That was a little 
unusual, as the clones don't have any natural feelings. 
Everyone figured that the relationship itself added an 
element of stability the other two Kristen's lacked. Her 
visit to you surprised almost everyone."

"Almost? You weren't surprised?"

"No, I was startled all right. Krycek, on the other hand --
"

"That bastard. Whose side is he pretending to be on this 
time?"

"Alex Krycek is always on his own side. I was supposed to 
watch him, know what he was doing.  However he managed to 
grab her, he did so without alerting anyone."

"I'll bet he did. Fuck. The thought of that bastard near 
Hannah...."

"He loved her, Fox. If I had to guess at his motivations 
I'd bet he was trying to help her."

"Help her? By kidnapping her?"

"He spent much of the last two years with them. I don't 
know if he saw her declining like the other Kristen clones 
or if it was something else. I think he thought he was 
saving her."

"So, where is she -- oh, don't tell me, you've no idea? 
These guys know when I take a piss for God's sake, and you 
want me to believe they lost her?"

"_I_ lost her. They were my assignment." 

"You lost her. Is that supposed to make me feel better?"

"Not everything is about you, Fox."

"No, it isn't, is it? Which is why I should go." He stood 
abruptly. "Take care, Diana." 

He dropped some bills on the table and was gone before she 
could respond.

"Bye." She whispered softly. Diana had few regrets, but Fox 
Mulder was one of them. And it wouldn't help matters if she 
allowed those emotions to cloud her judgment. If her uncle 
had done one thing well, it had been to instill an 
obligation to the cause deep within her. She held onto it 
now like a lifeline. She needed to believe that one day it 
would be worth the sacrifices they all had to make. 

***************

Chapter 36

Alex stuck the key in the lock, alarmed when there was no 
resistance. He took a moment to pull out his gun before 
slowly turning the knob. Crouched down as he eased the door 
open, he was poised and ready for whatever he found on the 
other side.

The apartment was silent.

He crept quietly, keeping his back against the wall as he 
came around the corner, right into the barrel of a gun. 

"Are you looking for someone?" A man he knew only by voice 
held the gun steady and stepped closer.  

"Funny, I don't think I left the door open."

"Let me have the gun, Alex." The man didn't wait and in a 
deft move had it in his hand with the clip emptied before 
Krycek could react. 

"Well, this certainly is quite the welcome home."

"Where are they?" 

"You've been here longer than I have, you tell me."

"Just answer the question, Alex."

"What the fuck is this? I thought we were on the same 
side?"

"And which side is that?" 

"I don't need to stand here like some two bit lackey and 
put up with your shit. Whose dirty work are you doing this 
time?"

"My loyalties are not the question here, Alex. Perhaps 
yours should be?"

"Mine are where they've always been."

"Yes, I can see that." He made a small gesture to the 
bedroom at the back. 

"Look, this is a little tiring. Can you get that thing off 
of me?" 

Krycek was surprised when he not only lowered his gun, but 
also handed his own weapon back. "My orders are to retrieve 
the child, not kill you. Where is she?"

"Tell me who sent you."

"That is no concern of yours, Alex. Where is the child?"

 "Look, Bob or Dan or whatever name you're going by this 
week, I had an appointment. They were here when I left; I'm 
guessing that they're not here now. So fuck if I know."
Krycek tucked the empty gun back in the waist of his jeans. 
The man before him may have been given orders not to shoot, 
but a physical attack was a real possibility. He wasn't 
about to be caught with his hands occupied if it came to 
that. 

"My name is of no consequence. However, turning up empty 
handed is." The movement was quick and Alex was glad he'd 
taken time to free his hands. The blows landed on his arm 
and he was able to use his prosthetic to return at least 
one awkward punch before a powerful blow to his abdomen 
doubled him over. 

"This doesn't relieve you of your obligations you realize. 
You are still expected tomorrow night."

"Wouldn't dream of missing it," Krycek managed to get out. 

The clip to his gun was tossed down as the man landed 
another blow to the back of his head. Alex felt it connect 
and then everything went black. 

***************

"Mulder?"

He leaned against the wall next to her door, his phone in 
one hand and the key to her place in the other. "You're 
good, Scully. You should see if you can peddle your 
services to the local police station, give the Stupendous 
Yappi some competition."

"Why didn't you answer my calls earlier?" 

"My phone's been off. Look, can I come in?"

"It's the middle of the night, Mulder. Can't it wait?" 

"I'm right outside your door, Scully."

"What time is it anyway?"

"Late?" 

He could hear the resignation in her voice. "I'm coming."

"Just stay put, I'll use my key. You're supposed to be 
resting."

"Resting, right." She hung up on him.

Mulder entered to find her apartment dark and seemingly 
deserted. "Scully?"

"Just a minute." Her voice came from down the hall.

He turned on the light in her living room, suddenly tired 
of all the dark. A moment later, when he saw her face, he 
wished for it back. It was obvious from her puffy, red eyes 
that she'd been crying. Would he ever be the cause of 
anything other than grief in this woman's life? 

"God, Mulder, you smell like a bar. I hope you didn't 
drive."

"Skinner would agree with you. I took a cab."

"What's so important that you had to come here at this 
hour?"

He handed her the white envelope. "This." And a meeting 
you're not going to like, he added silently.

She turned it over in her hands before lifting the flap. He 
laid a hand on hers stopping her from pulling the papers 
out. 

"I thought -- could I use your shower while you take a look 
at that?" 

"Knock yourself out. But Mulder�" 

He stopped at the clipped tone of her voice and turned 
around to face her.

"This doesn't mean I'm not mad," she added.

"Okay." He headed down the hall, grabbing a towel from the 
closet on his way by. He turned on the water, then stripped 
down. God, his clothing reeked of sweat and alcohol. He 
balled them up and tossed them into her hamper, realizing 
as he did so that he had forgotten his overnight bag in the 
trunk of the car. He hoped Scully had something of his 
hanging around that he could wear. Stepping under the spray 
of hot water, he ran his tongue over his teeth. Make that 
an extra toothbrush as well. 


*************

Mulder rummaged through the vanity cupboard looking for a 
toothbrush. Scully always had spares of everything. He 
found what he was looking for in a small basket at the back 
that held an assortment of extras, including an opened box 
of condoms. He tried not to think about what that could 
mean as he squeezed out a liberal amount of toothpaste. He 
brushed his teeth relishing the feeling of being clean and 
mostly sober. Nothing like an old flame to run the alcohol 
right out of the system. He hesitated only a moment when he 
was done, wrapping the towel securely around his waist and 
opening the door a crack.

"Scully?" 

"On the floor, Mulder."

He looked down to discover clean sweats and a t-shirt 
neatly folded and sitting outside the door. "Thanks."

He scooped them up and ducked back into the bathroom to 
change. After giving his hair another quick rub with the 
towel, he folded it neatly over the towel rack. There was 
no need to aggravate Scully further. Taking a deep breath, 
he exited the bathroom. He couldn't hide in there forever. 

He found Scully curled into the corner of the couch with a 
blanket over her, apparently dozing. She opened her eyes 
and sat up when he stopped in front of her.

"I'm really sorry I woke you up, Scully. Why don't you go 
back to bed? We can do this tomorrow."

"You're here now, Mulder. And it is tomorrow."

"Yes, but it's�" He craned his head to read the clock on 
her mantle. "Almost two a.m. It can wait a few more hours."

"Whatever."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing. It doesn't have to mean anything."

"Look, I didn't come here to fight."

"What did you come for?" 

"The picture Skinner gave me, and this other -- thing." It 
was a toss up which of those two pieces of evidence he 
wanted to discuss least. He wearily sat down.

"I'm not going to fall apart, Mulder." Her voice became 
softer, losing the angry edge. "You didn't create those 
children, they did. I don't know what to think or do 
anymore. It's all, so -- so -- God, Mulder. They didn't ask 
for any of this; they're just children." 

Mulder was acutely aware of the one word she left out in 
her despair. Some of them were her children. And in a way, 
they were his as well. He regretted coming here with the 
information. She didn't need this right now. 

"Scully, I really am sorry I brought this here. I'm going 
to go and we can --"

"No." 

Her hardened tone startled him and he flinched as she 
leaned forward. He opened his mouth once and closed it 
quickly, realizing anything he said right now would be the 
wrong thing. 

"You don't come here and wake me up at two a.m., hand me 
that," -- she pointed to the papers lying on the table -- 
"and then tell me to go back to sleep, that we'll talk 
about it tomorrow."

She flung the blanket aside and stood. "You don't pick and 
choose which information you give me and which you 
withhold. Didn't we just go through this? Which part of 'I 
am your partner' do you not get? It means we share -- 
fifty-fifty. If you can't do that, then this isn't a 
partnership anymore."

Mulder could feel the blood drain from his face. "No, 
Scully. I'm --"

"Don't. Do not tell me you're sorry one more time. I swear 
I'll throw something."

"Okay." He took several deep breaths. If nothing else it 
helped keep his mouth shut while he furiously tried to 
think of something to say. She saved him the trouble.

"Where were you tonight?"

"I had a meeting."

"A meeting?" She began pacing. "Was it another of those 
clandestine ones? Black only, partner optional?"

He decided to ignore her barb. "I got a call soon after 
Skinner dropped the envelope off. Only the man who called 
wasn't who was waiting for me."

She turned to face him, hands on her hips. "Oh?"

"Guess who's made a remarkable return to the land of the 
living?" He tried for levity but it fell flat. "It was 
Diana."

"I see."

"What do you see? I was deliberately misled, Scully. If I 
had known it was --"
 
"You wouldn't have gone?" Her laugh was harsh. "You would 
have gone anyway."

"Maybe, or maybe not. But the fact is I wasn't given a 
choice. Someone set me up, maybe even Diana." He did some 
pacing of his own. "I was there for all of thirty, thirty 
five minutes tops. Then I left. Why do I need to explain 
this?"
 
" I'm your partner and you need to respect that, not coddle 
me. I can't help you if you don't share information with 
me." 

"I'm --" He stopped at her raised hand. 

"Tell me now. What did you find out?" She sat back down and 
he relaxed at the softer tone in her voice. 

"I got some information regarding the project, but nothing 
we hadn't already guessed at, or that would help us find 
where they took Hannah. Or explain Diana's role beyond the 
obvious. Don't look so skeptical, Scully. I know she's 
involved." 

"Do you?"

"Diana seems to think Krycek took Hannah for her own 
safety. I don't know if I can even entertain that 
hypothesis. Krycek never does anything selfless."  

"Did she have any information about Samantha?"

He almost leaned over and kissed her for the genuine 
concern and gentle way she spoke of his sister. "She said 
she didn't know anything, but I'm doubtful as to the truth 
of that."

"You will find her one day."

He met her soft smile with one of his own. "It's late. The 
rest of the information can wait until tomorrow when we've 
had some sleep." 

He helped her up off the couch. "Let me tuck you in."

"It's late. Why don't you stay, Mulder?"

"Are you sure?"

She reached out, squeezed his hand and nodded in response. 
"I'll get the locks."

He watched her secure the apartment and moved to follow her 
down the hall to the bedroom. When she stopped by the linen 
closet he realized she meant for him to sleep on the couch. 

"I can get the blankets down." He tried to keep the 
disappointment out of his voice, but some of it must have 
leaked through.

"I can't, Mulder. I'm sorry. I need some time."

"Hey, it's okay, you've got all the time you need. But it 
doesn't change anything for me, just so you realize that."

"I can't say the same. Not right now."

"Oh."

"I have to be up early. I'll try not to wake you."

"Don't worry. I need to go home and grab a clean suit. 
Night, Scully."

"Night."

After she disappeared into her bedroom, he grabbed the 
extra bedding from the closet. He felt a deep pang of 
regret, acutely aware that this time things were going to 
be far more difficult to fix. 

*************

Chapter 37

Diana shucked her jacket off and sank back onto the bed 
exhausted. It had been a grueling week with Hannah's 
disappearance and Spender's insistence that she handle the 
investigation, quietly and on her own. She had put enough 
together to understand the others had not been alerted to 
recent events. Spender was hoping to have the problem fixed 
and thus eliminate the need for anyone to know. 

Diana knew that at the very least her failure would result 
in her removal from the inner circle, the seat of power. At 
the worst it could cost her life. She didn't like either of 
those outcomes, which was why she was busy devising her own 
cleanup plan. She had invested far too much to lose 
position now. If anyone was going to be blamed for this it 
would be Alex Krycek. 

Alex had been given orders to keep Hannah safe. She should 
have known he wouldn't be able to keep his dick in his 
pants when Marita showed up. That woman seemed to hold sway 
over Alex in a way no one else did. It was still not clear 
how Marita had become involved, and Diana doubted it would 
be clarified, at least not to her. She wouldn't have put it 
past Spender to set the whole thing up. 

Marita, like Spender, appeared to float in her own bubble, 
unaffected by the shifts in power that seemed to be a 
constant part of the inner workings of the syndicate. Her 
Uncle Jurgen had discouraged any questions she had 
regarding either of them. Inherent in that discouragement 
was a veiled threat, and Diana knew even her uncle's 
protection wouldn't help if she went too far. The project 
always came first. If she had one thing, it was a strong 
sense of self-preservation. 

A knock at the door interrupted her thoughts. Only a select 
few knew this address so visitors were rare. She pushed 
herself off the bed and went to answer it. 

Diana opened the door to find Spender waiting, a grim 
expression on his face. "Nice to find you home." 

"Where else would I be, Charles?"

He pushed past her, his steps slow and measured. "Oh, I 
don't know. Out, perhaps?"

Diana sucked in a breath. She had set up the meeting with 
Mulder on her own. He hadn't exactly told her to avoid Fox, 
but she knew he wouldn't have been thrilled about her doing 
so. He was always reminding her that Mulder was her 
Achilles heel in spite of the fact that she had proved 
otherwise on more than one occasion. 

"What exactly are you getting at?" She decided vagueness 
might buy her some time. 

He pulled a cigarette from the ever-present package of 
Morleys and lit it. "Is that alcohol I smell, Diana?"

"I may have had a drink."

"May have? Come, come now. Do you take me for a fool?"

She didn't respond, instead meeting his calculating glare 
with one of her own.

"Your meeting, Diana." 

"My meeting is none of your concern."

"Everything is my concern in this particular case. 
Merchandise is missing Diana. What did you discover?"

 Diana grimaced. His veiled reference to Hannah, and her 
own ineptitude, wasn't lost on her. "He had no new 
information, nothing we didn't already know."

"Nothing?"

"It was a waste of time."

"Are you sure about that?"

Diana stiffened. "I'm sure."

"Because I think you still carry a torch for the man." 
Spender stubbed his cigarette out and moved closer. One 
finger lazily stroked the area above her breasts.

"Don't."

"Oh, but I want to, Diana." 

She closed her eyes as his fingers deftly undid the buttons 
on her blouse. She hated him for this even as her body 
responded favorably. 

"Mulder doesn't want you, but I do."

She gasped as he reached into her bra and twisted one 
nipple. Tonight he would be rough and she was grateful. 
Pain and pleasure would be a good mix after seeing Fox and 
being reminded of all that was lost. At the very least, 
with his mouth and hands busy, he would relegate Hannah and 
her failure to the back burner. 

"Open your eyes, Diana." The command was accompanied by a 
slap to her ass. 

"I want you to keep them open. When I fuck you tonight you 
will know it's me."

She nodded. So this was to be her penance for her mistake, 
to be denied her fantasies as he used her. 

It wasn't the worst thing that could happen. She forced a 
smile. "Do you want it here or in the bedroom?"

***************

It was early morning when Krycek finally came to. It took 
him several minutes to realize that the night had passed 
with him blissfully unaware. He licked his lips, rough with 
dried blood. He could still taste the coppery tang in his 
mouth. Grunting and groaning he began to sit up, stopping 
when dizziness threatened to topple him again. He gently 
felt his ribs. It seemed that whoever he had the pleasure 
of meeting earlier had decided to have a little fun after 
he was knocked out. He wasn't sure if his ribs were bruised 
or broken. No matter, breathing would be difficult for the 
next few weeks. 

God, his head ached and he had to pee. He used the wall to 
brace himself and stood up. Deep breaths, he kept reminding 
himself. Each one pulled painfully on his ribs but he 
forced himself. Getting sick right now was not an option. 
He made his way to the bathroom, noting the mess in the 
apartment. It looked like his uninvited guest had decided 
to redecorate. It was of no concern to Alex; there was 
nothing of note kept in this place and after today it 
wouldn't be used again. 

He was relieved to see no blood in his urine. Bruised 
kidneys were a bitch. He threw cold water on his face and 
downed three Tylenols. He was still unsteady on his feet, 
and making his way to the kitchen was tricky. He had to let 
go of the wall when he reached the fridge. Rummaging 
through it he grabbed a yogurt and juice. He had work to do 
and an empty stomach on top of feeling like shit wouldn't 
help. He sat at the table and forced the food down, 
grimacing when he swallowed. 

The first order of business was to determine where Marita 
had gone and who may have helped her. He mentally kicked 
himself for not anticipating her actions. He knew how 
Marita operated, and running off with the girl was exactly 
something she would do. He replayed the events of their 
afternoon tryst. Did she initiate it? His head hurt like 
hell and it was hard to keep things straight. Did she see 
an opportunity for gain and decide to screw him into a 
stupor? 

Whatever Marita's motivation, it wouldn't help him now. He 
had to trust that even as heartless as she could be at 
times, she wouldn't harm a child. Marita had her own demons 
to slay with regards to the breeding program. 

Alex stood, forcing himself to take a deep breath and 
straighten up. First he would tend to the dried blood and 
the cuts, then he would make his way to another of his 
hideouts. He was a man with many contacts and means at his 
disposal. He had never been a victim and he wouldn't start 
playing that role now. He still had a job to do. 

And Alex Krycek always completed his work.

*****************

Chapter 38

The case had stalled. Two weeks of silence. There had been 
no more white envelopes slipped under the door, no Krycek 
waiting in the dark to drop another breadcrumb of 
information. The lack of movement from any quarter was the 
most telling of all. Either somebody had got exactly what 
they wanted, or something had gone horribly wrong. Although 
Mulder was still looking, keeping the file open, it really 
didn't matter much to Scully anymore. She had hit a wall 
and couldn't see a way over it.

For her, confirmation that there were other children out 
there, more Emily's, had been more than she wanted to know, 
despite the suspicions she'd harbored since that fateful 
December. So much for that whole truth setting you free 
bit; all this truth did was drive a deeper wedge into a 
partnership that was already fractured. 

She paused in the office hallway, using the wall to support 
her weight as another cramp sliced across her abdomen. It 
had been two weeks since Dr. Parenti had implanted the 
embryos and she didn't need anyone to tell her what was 
happening. It was a familiar feeling. Twice she'd gone 
through this. Twice she'd grieved the loss as if it had 
been a real child, something other than blood and cells her 
body rejected. She took a few deep breaths as the pain 
subsided and continued to make her way to the washroom. 

Another searing pain halted her progress, this time 
accompanied by a gush of liquid. She could feel it 
trickling out the sides of her underwear. So much for the 
heavy duty Kotex she'd used in anticipation of this; she 
hoped her panty hose would keep it contained until she 
could make it to the stall. 

She had done the lab work herself earlier in the morning, 
though there was little need for it. She already knew what 
was going to happen when she started spotting yesterday, 
but even in this she needed hard evidence. She refused to 
see it as anything other than gathering evidence. To do 
otherwise would be to face one more loss and she didn't 
think she had the capacity for that. Not right now with she 
and Mulder at odds, and Diana Fowley alive, ready and 
willing to step back into Mulder's life. 

She'd drawn the blood herself and asked one of the 
technicians she trusted to let her run it through. They 
were used to unusual requests from the Spooky Patrol so it 
didn't raise a red flag, at least a visible one. There was 
only so much that could be done to guard against the men 
hidden in the shadows. 

She'd already done a urine test; the blood work confirmed 
those results. Irrefutable, empirical data. She angrily 
swiped at a tear and continued her halting progress down 
the hall. For once she was grateful for the seclusion the 
basement office held.

She pushed open the bathroom door and made it to a stall 
before the cramping began in earnest. 

The most difficult part for Scully wasn't the pain. She was 
ready for it having tucked extra panties, hose, and extra 
strength Advil's into her bag that morning knowing what she 
faced.

The most difficult part right now was the guilt at the 
sense of relief she was feeling. It wasn't that she didn't 
want a child; it was just that the cost of this indulgence 
had never been clearer. 

And the price was too high.


*************

Mulder was finding it hard to concentrate on what Skinner 
ways saying to him. His thoughts were focused on the empty 
chair and his absent partner who he had only seen briefly 
earlier this morning. She had seemed preoccupied, but of 
course everything was F.I.N.E. when he asked. He was 
getting so fucking sick of fine that he wanted to strike it 
from the English language. 

He had been unable to verify the information Diana had 
given him. There had been nothing he could uncover that 
lent any credence to her claims regarding the cloning 
project, but that didn't mean her claims were false. He'd 
seen the mark on Kristen's neck and Scully had been able to 
confirm the anomalies with her blood. 

And Hannah had seemingly vanished into thin air. He could 
find no trace of her. The guys had hacked the airline 
manifests of all the major carriers and some of the private 
ones as well. They had found nothing. He was tired of dead 
ends, lost little girls, and having Samantha dangled in 
front of him like a carrot on a stick.

"Agent Mulder, have you heard anything I've said here?" 

"I've heard you sir, and there isn't room in this 
department for another agent."

Skinner gave him a blank stare and Mulder felt his stomach 
lurch. 

"Scully?" Mulder stood, unsure how to read Skinner's barely 
perceptible nod. "Does she get any say?"

"It's out of my hands, Mulder. I wouldn't be assigning 
another agent if it wasn't." 

"Who? Who is being assigned to the X-Files? _Sir_." He knew 
Skinner wasn't at fault but felt stung anyway. 

"Agent Fowley."

"What? That's outrageous. Why wasn't I consulted?"

"Mulder, listen --"

"I will _not_ listen. What explanation did Agent Fowley 
give for her 'death'? Since when can an agent vanish and 
reappear with no questions asked?"

Skinner grimaced. "You know these men; there isn't anything 
they're incapable of orchestrating. The official 
explanation is that she was on assignment with the counter 
terrorism unit in an undercover role."

"Very convenient. Scully won't like it."

Skinner cleared his throat. "Agent Scully --"

"No -- whatever it is -- no."

"You have no choice, Mulder. Scully was temporarily 
assigned to Quantico earlier this morning." 

Mulder exploded. "Does she know?"

"I just came from a meeting with her; it was her suggestion 
to pursue that avenue." He whistled softly at Mulder's 
obvious surprise. "You weren't aware of our meeting. What 
the hell is going on between you two? 

"It's a long story."

"Is it about Hannah? Or Kristen?"

"It's about everything, Sir.  

************

"When were you going to tell me, Scully?"

"Mulder?" She entered the office to find him pacing. Not a 
good sign. 

"I just came from a meeting with Skinner who informs me 
that my _partner_ is considering other options."

Scully lowered herself to her chair. "Quantico is short 
staffed and we're essentially stalled right now. There's 
been no new evidence with either Hannah or Kristen, and 
Skinner's being pressured to close the file. This is a 
temporary assignment." 

"He said you were offered a choice."

"Offered, Mulder. I haven't said yes."

"The last time they separated us you ended up with a bullet 
that nearly killed you."

"This isn't the same thing. I'd only be there as a consult 
for the forensic team."

"He made it sound like you were leaving."

She cleared her throat. "Look, this is --"

"When were you going to tell me?"

"I'm telling you now."

"About the baby. The almost baby. The IVF. When were you 
going to tell me?" 

"I -- it --" She dropped her head into her hands hiding 
both her anguish at the hurt in his voice and the dull ache 
that cut across her abdomen.

"I saw the lab work, Scully. It wasn't hard to find 
considering you left it on your desk."

"I'm sorry." She met his eyes, feeling guilty. This mess 
was her fault. "I didn't mean for you to find out like 
this."

"And I didn't mean to snoop. I thought the folder might 
have been something about the case." He leaned against his 
desk, his attention focused on her. "Are you feeling okay? 
You look a little pale."

She opened her mouth to protest that she was fine when 
another sharp pain sliced across her abdomen. She watched 
Mulder's expression go from concern to thinly disguised 
panic. 

"Scully?" 

"Sorry, it's," - she winced - "a little painful."

"Do you mean to tell me that you're -- that it's happening 
right now? Fuck, Scully. You're sitting there having a 
miscarriage and we're discussing work?"

"It's only a miscarriage if it's a pregnancy. This is just 
some cramping."

"Cramping?" 

She watched him for several moments as he resumed pacing. 
He had a short circuit going and it was making her dizzy 
watching him. 

"I'm sorry, Mulder." Her eyes burned and her throat felt 
thick. She tried to remember how long it had taken last 
time before her hormones leveled out.

"It was a baby to me, Scully."

"Oh." Of course it was.

"I pictured her."

"Oh, Mulder. Don't do this." 

"She had blue eyes, but I couldn't decide if her hair would 
be red like yours or maybe brown and curly like Sam's."

"Mulder --" 

He whirled around to face her, hands on his hips. "No, 
Scully. _You_ don't. I can't do it anymore." 

"You can't do what?  Not everything is about you, Mulder."

"Is this about -- Diana? You're going to walk away because 
of her?"

She couldn't help a wince at the sound of the woman's name. 
"I'm not walking away. I need this right now."

"Help me understand; what do you need right now?"

"A hot water bottle would be nice."

"How can you joke? What is it with you?" His voice had 
adopted that sneering tone she knew all too well, and the 
cruel undertone hurt worse even than dealing with him drunk 
and morose. 

"What kind of a mother would I be?  Answer me that, will 
you? Who deliberately chooses to bring a child into," -- 
her arms swept across to encompass the office and the both 
of them -- "this madness? I don't know what I was 
thinking." 

"Well, I guess it's all good then. The decision has been 
taken out of your hands."

"Mulder --" 

"Where does that leave me?" 

"The same place you've always been."

"And where is that, exactly? You know, when you asked me to 
help you with the invitro I was concerned about a lot of 
those same things, but you -- _you_ convinced me that it 
would be okay, that we could manage it. So what happened? 
Was it the prospect of me as the father or the fact that 
little girls with the last name Mulder seem to disappear 
around me?"

"You know that's not it."

"No, I don't know that. Fuck." The expletive was 
accompanied by Mulder kicking over the wastebasket, sending 
bits of crumpled up paper skidding across the floor. 
 
"Mulder --"

"Not now." 

She was surprised when he didn't slam the door behind him. 

**************

Chapter 39

"Rather unfortunate turn of events wouldn't you say, 
Doctor?"

"I am not God."

"I don't think anyone ever made that assumption." 

"Assumptions and expectations. Semantics." 

Spender took perverse delight in watching Parenti make 
every effort to remain calm, but the thin line of 
perspiration beading along his upper lip was a clear 
giveaway that he had rattled the doctor with his sudden 
arrival. Spender was aware the office staff had gone for 
the day and the cleaners weren't expected for several hours 
yet, enough time for tying up loose ends.

"Our client's results weren't what we were expecting."

Parenti huffed. "Dana Scully was never a client who had 
choices. I did what was required. It is out of my control 
what goes on with her body. If you had wanted her to carry 
a child you should have thought of that before you had 
Ishimaru tamper with her reproductive system."

"We were assured the procedure was reversible."

"The procedure's reversibility isn't the issue here; basic 
female reproductive anatomy is. Sometimes it takes several 
tries before a woman conceives."

"Unless someone has altered the merchandise." Spender 
pulled a cigarette out and lit it. 

He watched the colour leech from James' face. 

"That would be a foolish move." The smoke curled in the 
air, carried by the slight movement of the air conditioner. 
"Wouldn't you agree, Parenti?"

His answer was choked off. Parenti's eyes were wide open in 
shock as he fell forward onto his desk.

From his position by the back door to the office Alex 
Krycek tucked his gun away and met Spender's eyes. "If you 
want to keep your hands clean you need to leave now, old 
man."

"Didn't your mother teach you to respect your elders, 
Alex?"

"She taught me many things. Are we going to discuss it now, 
or would you like me to finish the job?"

"By all means, finish up." Spender dropped his partially 
smoked cigarette onto the plush carpet, leaving a small 
brown scorch mark, crushing it underfoot as he made his way 
to the door. 

"I'll be in touch, Alex. See that things are tidied up, 
will you."

****************

The lights were dim and the atmosphere charged as the small 
group of men gathered. 

"Have you located her?" Jurgen Strughold poured a whiskey 
for himself.

"Not yet." Spender lit a cigarette.

"What are you doing about it?" The question came from the 
back corner and Spender's back stiffened. The Englishman 
was always a wild card.

"I have it under control."

"Do you?" He moved from the corner to stand next to 
Strughold. "And you Conrad, what do you make these reports 
that place Alex Krycek with the child and an unnamed 
woman?"

"Those reports are unsubstantiated." Spender paused to pour 
a drink, focused on remaining calm. "How do you know we can 
trust the source?"

The Englishman narrowed his eyes and Spender tamped down 
his fear. "The source was one of my own. I trust him."

"You trust him? Perhaps the rest of us are hesitant to 
extend that trust so easily."

"Our own man found evidence that someone had been with him. 
For God's sake, Charles, he came back with evidence of 
Alex's activities."

Strughold cleared his throat. "It does us no good to argue 
amongst ourselves." 

"An accusation has been made," -- Spender pointed to the 
Englishman -- "about another member of this group. So far 
this source has remained unnamed. We cannot afford to keep 
secrets, gentlemen."

The Englishman's laugh was curt. "You're one to talk, 
Charles."

"Enough." A heavily accented voice spoke from the shadows. 
The bearer, a heavyset man with greying hair came forward. 
"We are arguing semantics.  Alex Krycek was acting by 
himself, outside of this group; that much is clear. It is 
obvious he had an accomplice. I suggest we focus our 
attention on who that might have been."

"Find the accomplice, find the merchandise?"

"She is a child, Charles." The Englishman's tone was sharp.

"She is an experiment, my friend." Spender doused one 
cigarette and promptly lit another. 

Strughold set his glass down. "Enough. We will contact our 
partners in Tunisia and Kokura. Ask them to keep an eye 
out. Do we have any ideas as to who was helping Alex?"

All eyes turned to Spender, but Spender focused his on 
Strughold. "I suggest we consider Marita as a possibility."
 
****************

Chapter 40

Mulder got as far as the front desk before being waylaid by 
the security guard. "A.D. Skinner's looking for you."

"What?"

"Said to send you up if you came my way."

"Thanks, Pete. I think." Shit, he couldn't even get out of 
the fucking building and put some space between him and 
Scully. He decided to take the stairs rather than the 
elevator. At least some of his frustration could be taken 
out that way. He arrived at Kim's desk feeling as if it had 
helped only marginally. What he really needed was a good, 
long run.

"He's waiting for you, Agent Mulder."

"Thanks, Kim." Mulder took a deep breath and opened the 
door.

"You wanted to see me, sir?"

"And your partner. Where is she?" Skinner looked up from 
the file spread open in front of him. "Everything okay, 
Agent?"

"Scully's not feeling well"

"I saw her an hour ago Mulder; she seemed fine to me. 
What'd you do this time?"

"This isn't about me. Apparently." The last word was 
mumbled.

Skinner closed the folder he was looking at and pushed it 
towards him. "Something's come up, something I think you'll 
be interested in." 

"Is this for me and my _new_ partner?"

"Look, Mulder, I had no control over that and you know it. 
But, no, Diana won't be joining you on this one." 

"Oh?"

"Professor Merkmallen is presumed dead, but no body has 
been found yet. The details are in the file. I've called 
Quantico to let them know Scully will be delayed a few 
days. Take a look at the file, and get back to me later 
today, say," -- he looked at his watch -- "two o'clock? 
Have Kim pencil you in."
 
"Whatever."

"Is there a problem, Agent?"

"No, no problem."

"Mulder?" Skinner raised his eyebrows in a move that 
reminded him far too much of his partner.  

"I'm fine. It's a little rough right now."

"I think this case might be something that can help." 
Skinner lifted his eyes to the corner and dropped them to 
the file Mulder held. The message was clear. 

"I'll take a careful look, Sir."

"See that you do, Agent."

*********

Mulder sat behind his desk, examining the photograph he 
held in his hand as if it were fine porcelain. His index 
finger gently followed the outline of the little girl, 
seated in someone's lap. It was difficult to tell if the 
person who held the girl was male or female, but he was 
hedging his bets on the latter. The picture had been hidden 
amongst the crime scene photos and was taken recently.

Hannah appeared much as she had the one time he'd met her 
in his office. She was smiling and her hands were clasped 
around a white teddy bear. The resemblance to Sam brought 
tears to his eyes. 

As he followed a braid with his finger he could almost feel 
how soft it would be. Was he supposed to take this to mean 
she was okay? 

He toyed with confronting Skinner, demanding that he reveal 
how and where he got the picture. The idea was dismissed 
quickly. Skinner probably knew little or nothing regarding 
its origins and to make issue of it might endanger one or 
both of them. 

Having the lab run a trace on it was also out. Too much to 
explain. The boys were a possibility, but they were still 
pissed off. They seemed to have taken sides with Scully on 
the Diana debacle. Sometimes he felt like a six year old 
who wanted to stamp his feet and declare that they were his 
friends before they were Scully's.

He heard the sound of her approaching and hastily shoved 
the picture under his desk blotter. He wasn't ready to 
share it with her just yet.

"I wondered where you went." She set her bag down and 
turned to face him.

He looked at her. All buttoned up, her black suit smartly 
tailored, the skirt neither too short nor too long. She 
probably pulled out a fucking tape measure to make sure she 
didn't break the FBI dress code. He chose to ignore the 
circles under her eyes and the pallor of her skin. "Would I 
have made a bad father, Scully?"

"What?"

"You heard me. Answer the question." 

"I think you'd have made a wonderful father, Mulder." 

Her answer was so quiet he had to strain to hear. "Then 
what happened?"

"I guess I discovered I'm not ready for that much change in 
my life. Any of it."

"Define _any_ for me, would you please?"

"I don't have the energy to fight with you right now." She 
sat down.

"I'm just asking, trying to understand what went wrong." He 
swiveled his chair around and out from behind his desk, the 
sound of the wheels muffled by the carpet as he moved 
closer to her. "I know you Scully, and rash isn't part of 
your make up. You don't do anything without giving it a lot 
of thought and you sure as hell didn't wake up one day and 
decide out of the blue to ask me to father your child. You 
would have thought it through from all angles first. What 
doesn't fit is what you're saying now. How can you have 
gone from there," -- he spread his hands out -- "to here," 
-- he snapped his fingers � "just like that? It doesn't 
make sense to me."

"Did you and Diana discuss children?"

"Wha --" He sat up, startled. "Where did that come from?"

"Did you?"

"No."

"Why?"

"We never had that kind of a relationship. No -- wait." He 
held up his hand to stop her from speaking. "What I mean 
is, I knew our relationship was never going to go in that 
direction. It wasn't long term."

"And Kristen?"

"Kristen? _Kristen_? She was a mistake, Scully. I already 
told you. If I could go back and erase that time, I would. 
I don't understand where you're going with this."

"It's -- why did you have sex with me?"

"I didn't have sex with you."

"Oh, I imagined that? Or were you able to --"

"Scully, I made love to you. It wasn't simply sex. Not for 
me, anyway. The real question here, is what was it for 
you?" He watched her grapple with what he handed her. 

"I -- this is so hard for me." 

Mulder reached over and pulled Scully's chair so that she 
faced him. Their knees touched and as he searched her eyes 
he was startled to see tears. He reached forward and cupped 
her chin. "I love you. Why won't you believe me?" 

"I can't."

"Can't or won't?"

She didn't answer. He could see her fighting to regain 
control and he allowed himself to drink in the fatigue, the 
sorrow that lined her face and shadowed her eyes. In that 
moment he knew what she needed from him, what she would 
accept. She was a woman who kept her heart under lock and 
key and allowing him in was wreaking havoc in her tightly 
controlled world.

She didn't answer. He could see her fighting to regain 
control and he allowed himself to truly see her fatigue, to 
see the sorrow that lined her face and shadowed her eyes. 
In that moment he knew what she needed from him, what she 
would accept. She was a woman who kept her heart under lock 
and key and allowing him in was wreaking havoc in her 
tightly controlled world. 

He realized that her pragmatism regarding the failure of 
the invitro had more to do with further protecting her 
fragile hold on her heart than a belief that it was for the 
best. She wasn't ready to trust him with either her 
feelings or her heart. He could offer her time. Time to get 
used to the fact that he loved her as she was; that her 
infertility did not define her. That she was whole and 
perfect. 

"Why are you staring at me like that?" She sniffled into 
the handkerchief he handed her.

"It's nothing. You look tired."

She took a deep breath. "I am."

"How's the pain?" He tucked a strand of errant hair behind 
her ear, but stubbornly, it slipped back out. 

"I'm better today. I took some T-3's."

"Let me take you home."

"Mulder, I don't think --"

"I want to drive you home, make sure you get there okay. 
Maybe tuck you in, make you soup? Let me take care of you. 
Please, Scully?"

"Is that a new case?" She pointed to the open folder in 
front of him.

"It can wait. I'll call Skinner, reschedule. If you're up 
to it we can go over what he's given us tonight." He sat 
back considering the folder and the photo he'd hidden. If 
he expected her to trust him with the most vulnerable parts 
of herself he had to offer her the same honesty and trust. 
"There was something tucked in between the crime scene 
photos."

He watched her eyebrow go up, a silent entreaty for him to 
continue. "It's a picture of Hannah. It looks recent, 
and,"-- he slid his arm down hers to hold her hand -- "she 
seems happy. Safe."

"I'm sorry you didn't find her. I know how much her 
connection to your sister meant to you."

"Not your fault, Scully. I'm okay. Someday we'll have the 
answers. Until then," -- he picked up her other hand and 
held them both close to his heart -- "I'm not going 
anywhere without you. No matter who Skinner is forced to 
assign to the X-Files."

"Okay." She grabbed her bag as they both stood up.

"Good. Now let's get you out of here. I've got a brand new 
director's cut of Planet of the Apes --"

"What, no Plan Nine?"

"Hey, you cut me off before I could get to it." He shoved 
his chair back under the desk and grabbed his jacket and 
the file.

"I think you'd have made a wonderful father, Mulder." 

The words were so quietly spoken he almost missed hearing 
them. "Thank you."

"I just wanted a chance, you know?"

"Oh Scully, I do know." He pulled her close and felt her 
arms grip him tightly. Stroking her back, he felt some of 
the tension release and stepped away to meet her eyes. He 
kissed her forehead softly. "I believe we'll get another 
chance, Scully."

"I don't know if I have any hope left, Mulder."

"Then I'll hope and believe enough for both of us." 

************


Notes:

I owe so much to those who supported me throughout this 
process. From Both Supreme High Bitch of the Beta's - I 
think you both deserve the title after putting up with me - 
to my faithful readers who sent feedback on a regular basis 
- you don't know how much that encouraged me! So.......

To those who provided beta:
Xdks, Tali, Jake, and Michelle Kiefer - *insert bowing 
smiley here* - I could not have done it without all of you. 
This story would not have been written without their 
unwavering support, including the virtual finger wagging 
when I got sloppy. These ladies put up with my dangling 
participles, Canadian vs. American spelling, and my 
flagrant abuse of commas. I see the words 'tsk tsk' now and 
run cowering. 

Siggy - martini's for life! She put up with me sending 
snippets, paragraphs, chapters, and everything in between. 
The poor thing was subjected to the worst angst while I 
worked out plot inconsistencies and played with 'what ifs.' 
I fear I've driven her to drink.

Toate - where are you girl? You deserve a big kiss for 
faithfully reading through and helping me sort things out. 
Many thanks my friend for your support, it means a lot. 









 










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