From: Teresa Carthage <tcarthage@yahoo.com>
Date: Mon, 1 Dec 2003 16:37:59 -0800 (PST)
Subject: Archive Submission: Risky Business (1/1)
Source: direct

Risky Business
By Teresa (tcarthage@yahoo.com)
www.fanfiction.net/~tcarthage

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

RATING: R for language, violence, scary situations, & relatively 
     tame sex talk.
CATERGORY: Action/Adventure, Romance (M/S), Angst, Suspense
SPOILERS: Nothing you shouldn't know already. Telling you exactly 
     which episodes might give too much of the plot away.
KEYWORDS: Mulder/Scully romance, action/adventure, angst
SETTING (TIME): Season 7. After the flashback events in "Per 
     Manum" and after "all things" but before "Requiem". 
     Basically, we're going to pretend that there was an actual 
     romantic relationship in this time period, which was about a 
     month long. Any objections? No? I didn't think so.
SUMMARY: Mulder gets himself into deep trouble with some 
     international terrorists- and Scully must cross the globe 
     to save him. But the tables are turned and Mulder suddenly 
     finds himself fighting not for his own life, but for 
     Scully's.
****************************************

CHAPTER 1- The Timeless Art of Seduction

Friday, May 5, 2000
4:24 PM
J. Edgar Hoover Building, Basement

     Dana Scully was not having a good day.

     No, scratch that. Dana Scully was not having a good week.

     She had just left her fourth budget meeting that week, 
during which she had been forced to vehemently defend the entire 
X-Files division and their expenditures, which, she had to admit, 
were often a bit excessive. It had been an exhausting argument, 
especially because she knew that no matter how well she justified 
her work, she and her partner would forever be seen as the FBI's 
most convenient scapegoats.

     Scully frowned. Speaking of her partner...

     "Where the hell were you?!" she snapped as soon as she 
entered the office. He was sitting there with his feet on the 
desk, absently fiddling with a pencil, the phone cradled between 
his ear and shoulder.

     He gave her an amicable look and mouthed, 'I'm on the 
phone!'

     She promptly snatched the phone from his shoulder and hung 
up, slamming the receiver down in frustration.

     "We had a *meeting*, Mulder! Where were you? I had to handle 
it all by myself!"

     "And I'm sure you did a wonderful job. Thanks."

     "Dammit, don't try to avoid this. What happened?"

     He shrugged. "It must've slipped my mind."

     Her fists tightened and she glared at him, shooting fiery 
daggers from her eyes. He glanced back up at her and grinned, and 
the daggers clattered harmlessly to the floor.

     "Mulder," she began, calmly at first, "I had to defend our 
expenditures in front of the entire board, including Kersh. They 
crucified me in there, and on top of that, I had to cover for 
you-"

     "As I said, Scully. Thanks." He smiled at her again, aware 
of but completely ignoring her incredulous stare. He stood up and 
stretched with a groan.

     "My neck's sore," he commented, and then looked at Scully, 
as if he expected her to do something about it. She continued to 
stare at him, one eyebrow raised, arms crossed. She hadn't 
blinked in four minutes.

     Mulder shrugged again and stepped past her to the door. He 
grabbed his coat and folded it over one arm, picking up his 
briefcase with the other.

     "I'm gonna head out a little early today, Scully."

     "*Excuse* me?"

     "I'm sorta tired. It's Friday and I think I'm just gonna go 
home now."

     Her mouth fell open. "Mulder, what is going-"

     "Oh, could you, uh, get that paperwork taken care of?" he 
interrupted. "And I think there's a few more reports to write 
about those last few cases, if you don't mind. Call me if you 
have any questions, okay?"

     He could've sworn he heard her squeak, and his smile widened 
at the rise he was getting out of her.

     "Well. I'll see you Monday, then," he said pleasantly. "Have 
a good weekend." He leaned in to give her an unreciprocated peck 
on the cheek, turned on his heels, sauntered out of the office, 
and shut the door behind him.

     Outside, Mulder paused, pressing his ear to the door with a 
grin. There was a very, very long silence, and then a sudden 
clanging commotion. He knew exactly what she was doing. She was 
kicking the poor, innocent, oft-abused trashcan. He stifled a 
laugh.

     This is *so* much fun...

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

Friday, May 5, 2000 
6:36 PM 
Georgetown, Virginia

     Scully wearily turned her key in the lock and shoved the 
door open with her shoulder. She set down her briefcase inside 
and sighed softly, extremely relieved to be home. She was about 
to close the door behind her when she saw a figure move out of 
the corner of her eye, and she spun towards the couch, 
immediately alert. Her right hand reached for her gun while the 
other groped behind her for the light switch. In another moment 
the room was flooded with light and she had drawn her weapon on 
the intruder.

     Mulder sat up on the couch and looked at her cheerfully, 
apparently not bothered by the fact that she was aiming her gun 
at him. "You trying to pick a fight, Scully? 'Cause I don't think 
that's playing fair."

     She lowered her gun and glared at him. "What the hell are 
you doing here?"

     "Waiting for you."

     "Mulder, get out," she said irritably. "I have paperwork to 
do all weekend, as you so kindly reminded me, and I'm not in the 
mood to play games right now."

     He jumped up from the couch, trotted over to her, and helped 
her remove her coat. "I have a present for you," he said, 
producing a package from behind his back. The fact that it was 
simply a thick manila envelope made Scully eye it suspiciously.

     "Mulder, what are you trying to-"

     "Just look at it, will you?"

     She sighed and opened the envelope, glancing down at it 
skeptically. But her eyes widened as she flipped through the 
papers inside. She looked up at Mulder in awe. "You did this?" 
she asked, unable to conceal her excitement. "You wrote all the 
reports, you filled out all the paperwork for our last four 
cases..."

     "So I would appreciate it, Scully, if you didn't kick me out 
of your apartment," he replied, very pleased with her reaction.

     She finally allowed herself to smile. "Have a seat, Mulder. 
You deserve it."

     "No, not yet," he said. "You go change your clothes, make 
yourself comfortable. Just relax, okay?" She reluctantly obeyed, 
not taking her wary eyes from him until she entered her bedroom. 
In a few minutes she returned, dressed in a comfy pair of flannel 
boxers and a large New York Yankees baseball jersey- his Yankees 
jersey, which she had apparently stolen from him during the past 
month. Not that he minded- he didn't care what she wore as long 
as it was removable. He blinked the thought from his head and 
pointed her towards the couch, motioning for her to sit down.

     "Mulder, I'll ask you again," she said. "What are you 
doing?"

     "Nothing," he replied. "Just, uh, unwinding with my partner 
on a Friday night." He joined her on the couch, a bottle of red 
wine in one hand, two stem glasses in the other. She took a glass 
from him and watched as he uncorked the bottle and poured them 
each a nice healthy amount.

     "Cheers," he said, clinking his glass to hers.

     "I've been through this scene before," Scully said with a 
nostalgic smile. She nodded at the glowing fireplace and the red 
wine, then at her partner. "Don't worry, I like you better than 
Eddie Van Blundht. Though not by much."

     Mulder grinned. "What was that... three years ago? Wow, 
three years... three years already, seven years total-"

     "What were you thinking?" she asked, curiously. They had 
never actually discussed the pinnacle of the Van Blundht case 
before. "I mean, what were you thinking when you came in here and 
saw us?" She suppressed a giggle at the memory.

     Mulder sipped his wine distractedly. "Well before I got 
here, I was thinking... she thinks he's me, so she'll trust him, 
but God knows what he's gonna try to do. I just wanted to get to 
you first. But I also remember that in a way I was torn... I 
couldn't decide whether I wanted him to succeed or not." He 
glanced at her for a moment, but then quickly explained, "I mean, 
I didn't want him to touch you, of course. But even though I 
couldn't imagine you'd let it get very far, I knew that if you 
rejected him, you'd actually be rejecting me."

     Scully smiled. "Well, you saw that I wasn't putting up much 
of a fight, but you scared him away before he could do anything. 
And the look on your face was priceless."

     "Yeah," he chuckled. "I really didn't know what to think of 
it. When I opened the door, I thought, fireplace. Wine. And I saw 
you. With him. With *me*. And I thought, look what he's doing, 
that loser is getting farther with her after one day than I've 
gotten in four years."

     Scully laughed. "Well, you know, he was very charming... in 
your body, at least." She poked Mulder's arm affectionately. "But 
just because Eddie Van Blundht fed me wine and listened to my 
high school anecdotes does not mean that he succeeded in seducing 
me."

     "For which I am very grateful," he added.

     "Why? Are *you* trying to seduce me, Agent Mulder?" she 
teased.

     "Oh, I don't know, we'll see," he said, grinning. "Tonight 
it's just dinner and a movie. Very casual, very laid back. And 
I'll watch anything you want, even if it's a chick flick."

     "I don't have any chick flicks, Mulder. You know me better 
than that. I have comedies and action movies, and that's about 
it." 

     He went over to her TV cabinet and opened a drawer to 
rummage through her very limited video collection. "Mystic Pizza, 
no. Hmm, Spinal Tap, no. Deep Impact- jeez, that sounds like one 
of my movies. Young Frankenstein, Terminator 2, Silence of the 
Lambs, no... Kalifornia?! Holy shit, what a God-awful movie, 
Scully. What could have possibly compelled you to buy this?"

     "Oh, that was years ago. Guess I was on a Brad Pitt kick."

     "Whatever. Can I throw it in the fire?"

     "Um, if you like."

     He tossed it into the fireplace, watching with satisfaction 
as the tape burned and melted into a bubbling puddle of black 
plastic. Scully rolled her eyes at his male compulsion to destroy 
things. 

     She came up behind him and peered past him at the videos.
"Hey, here we go," she said triumphantly. "Mission Impossible 2. 
I love that movie-"

     "Oh, are you a big Tom Cruise fan, now?"

     "Why, are you jealous?"

     "Of course not," Mulder replied, defensive. "I never get 
jealous."

     "Oh, really. Ha."

     He ignored her. "Besides, he's married. He's ineligible."

     Scully sighed ruefully. "He wouldn't be man enough to 
handle me, anyway."

     "He's man enough to handle Nicole Kidman... and Mimi Rogers, 
once upon a time," Mulder said thoughtfully.

     Scully shuddered. "Oh, yeah... There's something about her I 
don't like at all... I don't know what it is, but I'm really not 
a big fan of Mimi Rogers."

     "Hmmm, wonder why. I sorta like her, actually."

     "You would," Scully muttered.

     "Why, are you jealous?" he countered.

     "Of course not!"

     He grinned at her. "Don't worry, I like you better. Though 
not by much."

     She shoved him playfully. "Are we going to watch a movie or 
not?"

     "Almost. Let me go get the food." He stood up and headed to 
her kitchen, where he had been keeping dinner warm in the oven. 

     Scully's eyes lit up. "You cooked, Mulder?"

     "Yeah," he said, a bit shyly. "I cooked... barely. It was 
quite a harrowing experience, and not something I'm eager to 
repeat." Scully laughed and started to get up to help him, but he 
shot her an overly stern look that made her sit back down, 
thoroughly amused. 

     "Stay there, Scully, and pick out a movie. Anything you 
want. I'll be right there."

     Scully took out the Mission Impossible 2 video and settled 
back onto the couch, resting her slippered feet on the coffee 
table. A minute later, Mulder returned and presented her with a 
plate full of oysters garnished with seasoned truffles, and 
chocolate-covered strawberries for dessert.

     "Mulder," she began in a suspicious tone, "I'm a doctor, a 
scientist. I'm well-educated in chemistry and I've read Freudian 
psychology, not to mention the dozens of urban myths that litter 
our file cabinet."

     "Yes, I know that, Scully," he replied, innocently 
pretending he had no idea why she had brought it up.

     "Well then, you couldn't have thought I wouldn't see what 
you're trying to do here."

     "I don't know what you're talking about."

     "You do too. Oysters, truffles, and chocolate strawberries 
are all alleged aphrodisiacs. *Alleged*, mind you."

     He smiled. "Hmm, interesting, I had no idea. Well then, 
you'd better clean your plate."

     Scully shook her head with a chuckle but obeyed, and within 
ten minutes all that was left was a small pile of empty oyster 
shells. Mulder lowered his fork and cocked an eyebrow at her 
expectantly, as if he had just slipped her love potion #9 and was 
urgently waiting for a sign that it was working.

     "Mulder?"

     "Yeah?"

     "Stop looking at me like you want me for dessert. Eat your 
strawberries."

     Mulder looked down at his plate and frowned at the 
strawberries as if they were somehow defective, at least compared 
to her. "You can have them," he offered.

     "Don't mind if I do," she said happily, picking them off 
his plate. Mulder watched her nibble at the chocolate coating and 
gulped. Baseball, he thought, baseball baseball baseball... nope, 
that wasn't going to work. Baseball had taken on a whole new 
meaning for him; he'd taken her to the batting cages several 
times since her first "birthday present," and although she had 
learned quickly, they'd both agreed that baseball was much more 
fun with two batters and only one bat. And Mulder had decided 
that he would *much* rather wrap his arms around her and make sure 
her hips turned the right way than hit a few homeruns by 
himself...

     Wait a second, this *really* isn't helping, he thought. 
Jeez, baseball can be a pretty dirty metaphor if I let it... and 
here she is, looking incredible in my Yankees jersey, still 
sucking on those damn strawberries. Scully suddenly realized he 
was staring at her and looked up at him mid-bite, half a 
strawberry hanging from her mouth.

     Screw it, he thought, it's not like I wasn't planning this 
anyway. Dinner's over, let's go. Time for dessert.

     He swooped in for the kill, pushing her back against the 
armrest, startling her a bit. Hovering over her, a hand on either 
side of her head, he quickly leaned down to bite the other half 
of the strawberry from her mouth. He brushed his lips against 
hers, teasingly, but then nuzzled her head to one side and rained 
kisses down her throat. With one hand, he fumbled for a remote 
control on the end table and punched a few buttons without 
looking. Luckily, his aim was correct and suddenly the soft 
melodies of 'Nights in White Satin' filled the room from Scully's 
stereo. She chuckled softly.

     "You trying to start something, Mulder?"

     "Yes. Yes, I am."

     "I think those oysters have had an effect on you." 

     "I think that *you* have an effect on me," he mumbled 
against her neck. "The oysters had nothing to do with it, I 
assure you."

     "So, what about the movie?" she asked absently.

     "We've both seen it."  

     "You were never really planning on watching a movie, were 
you Mulder?"

     "Nope," he said, a bit impatiently, continuing his thorough 
exploration of her collarbone.

     "Hmmm, neither was I," she said. She grabbed his head and 
pulled his mouth up to hers. He grasped her shoulders and held 
her tight against him as he kissed her senseless. 

     Note to self, he thought- feed Scully chocolate 
strawberries as often as possible. "I'm glad I let you have my 
dessert," he whispered, grinning, and kissed her again hungrily. 

     By the time they finally broke apart again to allow air 
into their aching lungs, she had half melted, inside and out. No 
one else could ever do that to me, she mused, never. Only him... 

     She swallowed hard, inhaled a shaky breath, and urgently 
pointed in the general direction of the hallway. She could manage 
three syllables: "There. Go. Now."

     "If you insist."

     He stood up and lifted her into his arms in one smooth 
motion, and kissed her again. She wrapped her arms around his 
neck, her hands threading in his hair, pulling him closer. She 
grinned against his mouth as he carried her down the hallway and 
into the darkness of her bedroom, and kicked the door shut behind 
them.

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

CHAPTER 2- Mystery of the Disappearing Fox

Saturday, May 6, 2000
10:00 AM
Georgetown, Virginia

     Scully was rudely awakened by the piercing alarm clock. 
"Eight o'clock," she mumbled, half-conscious. "It's Saturday, 
dammit." 

     She had never been much of a morning person, and now, with 
her partner keeping her nights... occupied, she figured she 
deserved an extra hour on Saturday morning. But the alarm clock 
was apparently not aware of the recent modifications in her 
personal life, and was insistent on getting her up and out of 
bed. Lying on her side, facing the window and the spring 
daylight, she opened her eyes slightly and groaned.

     "Mulder, hit the snooze..." she muttered sleepily. But the 
alarm kept ringing. Scully frowned, and reached down to poke at 
the arm that was usually wrapped securely around her waist. Not 
finding it, she finally rolled over to face her partner.

     The bed was empty. She blinked at the vacant pillow, then 
sat up straight, searching the room. Not a soul. She frowned 
again, reached over his pillow, and pounded the alarm clock until 
it shut up. It flickered at her, then flashed the time, 10:01.

     Ten o'clock? It had always been set for eight on the 
weekends... oh well, the extra two hours of sleep had been much 
appreciated this time.

     "Mulder?" she called. She got no answer, and decided he was 
probably just making some breakfast. After all, he must be pretty 
hungry, after his impressive performance last night-

     *Jesus*, Dana, she scolded herself. If you can't get him out 
of your mind, just go find him, feed him quickly, and get him 
back in bed. Another hour won't hurt, and there's no rule that 
sleeping in on Saturday has to involve sleeping.

     She got out of bed and wrapped herself in the down 
comforter. "Mulder, why'd you set the alarm for ten?" She 
shuffled around the corner towards the kitchen. "You hungry? 
There's waffles in the... freezer."

     Scully stopped and frowned at the empty, dark kitchen that 
was lacking a tall sleepy man in boxers. There was also no note 
on the counter, which he would always leave when he was going out 
to get milk or eggs or whatever, and would be back soon. She 
flipped on the light, as if he were invisible in the dark and 
would suddenly appear under incandescent illumination. Hmm, no 
such luck.

     She went into the living room and checked the couch out of 
old habit, then shook her head at herself. Yeah, she thought 
sarcastically, he would much prefer to wake up alone on a couch 
than in a big comfortable bed with a woman. Then, she suddenly 
thought to check something in the bedroom, and ran back down the 
hallway, still wrapped in the comforter. 

     She stood in the doorway of her bedroom and narrowed her 
eyes suspiciously. The jeans, shirt, shoes, and socks that had 
earlier been flung hastily all over the room were now missing, 
without any explanation besides the obvious. Sometime during the 
night, he had somehow untangled himself from her while she slept, 
gathered his clothes, dressed, and left.

     Something's wrong, she realized. Something's got to be 
wrong. 

     Scully quickly showered, dressed in record time, dried her 
hair and swept a toothbrush through her mouth. God forbid she 
look disheveled and desperate when she found him, wherever the 
hell he was. She looked in the mirror with approval at her cool, 
casual, collected appearance. Okay, she thought. This'll be easy.

     Step one, call the cell phone.

     She punched the speed-dial button calmly, took a deep 
breath, and lifted the receiver to her ear. But after five rings, 
her composure dissolved as she heard the automated message, "The 
cellular customer you are trying to reach cannot be located. 
Please double-check the number and dial again." Scully frowned, 
half worried, half frustrated.

     "Where the hell are you?" she muttered as she hung up. 

     All right, step two, check his apartment. She shrugged on 
her coat, grabbed her keys from the kitchen counter, and flew out 
the door without a second thought.

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

10:52 AM
Alexandria, Virginia

     Scully knocked on apartment 42 twice, loudly. She shifted 
impatiently, crossed her arms, and donned a pissed-off look for 
when he opened the door for her. But after about thirty seconds, 
when no one answered, she twirled her keychain on her fingers and 
quickly selected the one marked "M" with red permanent marker, 
the label faded from years of use.

     "Mulder?" she called, opening the door. It was dark, of 
course- the light switches in his apartment were grossly 
underused, and he probably hadn't had to change a bulb since he'd 
moved in- but she turned on the light and wandered into the 
living room. "Mulder?"

     The place was a mild mess, as usual. Scully frowned and 
headed for the bedroom, hoping for a moment that he was asleep 
inside, having left her early in the morning for some plausible 
reason, though at the moment she could think of none.

     "Mulder," she started, opening the door unceremoniously, but 
stopped short and stared into the room. His dresser drawers were 
open and clothes were strewn all over, included some folded in 
piles on the bed. Scully's eyes widened and she flung open his 
closet door, and cursed at what she saw, or rather, didn't see. 
His navy blue travel bag, the only one he owned and had been 
using for seven years, was missing. 

     He's packed up and left, she realized. He left in the 
middle of the night, and in a hurry. Judging from the amount of 
clothing remaining in his room, she guessed that he had only 
planned to be gone for a few days. But that was a few days too 
long.

     "Bastard," she muttered, and slammed the closet door. She 
urgently rummaged through his clothes, looking for any sort of 
clue to his whereabouts, but finally gave up and flopped down 
into the pile of shirts on his bed. Her reflection glared down at 
her from the ceiling- Mulder must have been quite drunk to ever 
think that mirror was a good idea, she thought. At least, I hope 
he was drunk.

     Okay, Dana. Go check his messages, check his computer. 
Check the refrigerator, for Christ's sake, maybe he left a 
note... yeah, right.

     She strode back into the living room and went to his desk, 
but cursed again when she saw what else was missing. His laptop 
was gone, leaving a square devoid of dust on the desk. She 
checked his answering machine, which had two messages- one 
reminding him of a dentist appointment next week, and one from 
Frohike complaining that the Gunmen weren't getting any more 
secondhand Playboys because Mulder had let his subscription 
expire for the first time in a decade. Amusing, Scully had to 
admit, but not useful information.

     She kicked the nearest inanimate object, which ironically 
happened to be a trashcan. It clanged to the floor on its side, 
spilling its scant contents. Scully raised an eyebrow and knelt 
to examine the crumpled papers, finally recognizing a potential 
clue.

     Here we go, she thought triumphantly. Airline schedules, a 
ticket reservation confirmation, and a printed receipt. So he had 
taken a plane somewhere- great. And, she noticed with irritation, 
he had torn off the parts of the papers that revealed his 
departure time and destination. Apparently, even though he'd left 
in a hurry, he'd found time to taunt her with vague clues without 
the information she really needed. That's exactly what he was 
doing, she knew- taunting her, challenging her to find him. And 
he knew that she would, eventually; he was only trying to slow 
her down.

     Well, she thought, on to step three.

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

CHAPTER 3- Calling the Cavalry

Saturday, May 6, 2000
11:34 AM
Takoma Park, Maryland

     Ten minutes later, Scully had calmed down slightly, but was 
now driving fast with a cell phone stuck to her ear.

     "He had a one way ticket to *where*?"

     "Prague, ma'am. It's in the Czech Republic."

     "I know where it is," Scully snapped. "When was the flight?"

     "Departure from D.C. was at 1:42 AM. ETA is in twenty to 
thirty minutes."

     "Shit," Scully muttered. "Okay, when's the next flight to 
Prague?"

     "Tonight, at 10:23 PM."

     "You don't have anything earlier than that?"

     "Uh, not to Prague, ma'am, but there's a flight to Dresden, 
Germany at 6:47 this evening. Dresden's about an hour drive from 
Prague. Would you like me to book you a seat?"

     "Ummm... actually, I'll call back later to confirm that, 
okay?" said Scully. She had just parked in the alley near the 
entrance to the Lone Gunmen Newspaper office and she hung up as 
she got out of the car. She trotted down a short flight of stairs 
to a basement door, pressed the buzzer insistently, and shot a 
tenacious look at the camera she knew was hidden above her to the 
left.

     She heard a lot of locks and bolts turn noisily, moving from 
bottom to top, and finally the door swung open to reveal a sleepy 
but cheerful Frohike.

     "Hey, good morning, Scully! What's up? Where's-"

     "Mulder is AWOL," she replied curtly, stepping past him into 
the dimly lit room. "He ran off to Prague early this morning."

     "And this is apparently a bad thing?" said Byers, 
stretching. Strangely enough, he was still dressed in a suit, 
even on a casual Saturday morning.

     Scully flashed him a look. "I don't think he went to Prague 
for the sightseeing." 

     "Well, what do you want us to do?" asked Frohike. 

     "I need you to hack into his e-mails for me. He must have 
changed his password, I can't get access." She crossed 
immediately to Langly, who was sitting at a computer with a bowl 
of Cheerios on his lap.

     "No problem," said Langly, typing rapidly. Twenty seconds 
later, the screen flashed a greeting to Mulder's inbox.

     "Perfect," said Scully, leaning over Langly's shoulder. "Um, 
just out of curiosity... what was his password?"

     Langly typed a bit more, and a small box revealed: 
'danamulder64'

     Scully reddened and clicked wildly at the box to make it 
disappear. "That's not a very good password," she mumbled. Byers 
laughed.

     "You think we're blind, Scully?"

     "No, but I'm hoping you're forgetful."

     "Oh come on, we won't tell on you two."

     "I might," Frohike said under his breath. Byers elbowed him 
hard.

     Scully nudged Langly out of his chair, nearly spilling his 
cereal, and sat down in his place. All three Gunmen read over her 
shoulder as she opened the only e-mail in Mulder's inbox. 


From: Fox W. Mulder (fmulder@fbi.gov) 
To: Fox W. Mulder (fmulder@fbi.gov) 
Date: Saturday, May 8 2000 1:10 AM 
Subject: To Scully

Scully- 
Good job getting the guys to hack into my e-mail, as I was 
obviously counting on. I'm sorry I had to leave you so suddenly, 
but I couldn't pass up this opportunity. I have no doubt that 
you'll eventually figure out where I've gone, but I don't want 
you to try to follow me, because I'm dealing with something 
potentially very dangerous and the risks are mine, not yours. All 
I can say is that I've gone to get something very important, & 
I'll be back in a day or two if all goes well. 
PS- do NOT come after me, no matter WHAT! I mean it! 


     Scully slammed her fist hard onto the desk, startling the 
Gunmen. She stood up and shoved the chair back to Langly. "Damn 
him!" she hissed. "What the hell is he up to?! And how could he 
possibly think I won't try to find him? Did he actually think I 
would let this go, shrug it off, meet him at the airport with 
open arms when he comes home, ask him how his trip was?" Her icy 
gaze swept the entire room, including the Gunmen, and they looked 
away out of fear she'd turn them to stone.

     Luckily for them, her cell phone rang, breaking her 
concentration. She thrust her hand into her coat pocket and 
yanked out the phone, nearly dropping it twice before she got it 
to her ear.

     "Scully," she answered automatically.

     "Where are you, Agent Scully?" asked A.D. Skinner.

     "Uh, I'm at a friend's house," she replied, quickly calming 
her nerves. "Why, sir? It's Saturday."

     "I realize that, but a case has come up that I think you 
and Mulder would be best suited to handle," said Skinner. "Can 
you two meet me in my office for briefing at noon today?" It 
didn't sound like a question, and didn't sound like an option.

     Scully sighed. "Uh, no sir, I'm sorry, but actually I have 
a problem that needs my immediate attention, something that came 
up this morning. Personal business, you might say."

     "Is everything all right? Did something happen in the 
family?"

     "In the family? No, ummm..." Scully started, drumming a 
pencil rapidly against the desk as she tried to think up a good 
story. She glanced at the Gunmen for help, which was probably a 
mistake.

     "Tell him that Byers electrocuted himself and you have to 
take him to the hospital," said Langly.

     "Tell him that Langly just realized the 80's are over and 
he's suicidal," Byers retorted.

     "Tell him you and I are going to Vegas to elope," said 
Frohike.

     Scully waved a frustrated hand at them and turned away. 

     "It's Agent Mulder," she blurted into the phone. "He's 
gone."

     "What do you mean he's gone?"

     "He's just... gone. He left me a message," she said, and 
read Mulder's e-mail out loud to him.

     "When did you last see him?" Skinner asked, and she could 
tell that he was frowning.

     "Uh, last night," she replied simply. There was a long 
awkward pause as Skinner analyzed the uncomfortable tone of her 
voice and quickly decoded what she was hiding. She heard him 
chuckle and her eyes narrowed.

     "Sir, this isn't the time to discuss-"

     "No, no, it's all right, Agent Scully." He laughed again, at 
the inevitability of the situation, and at the fact that Scully 
was so defensive of their little secret. "Don't worry, you can 
trust me to be discreet."

     Scully exhaled her relief. "Thank you, sir, I appreciate 
it."

     "Don't mention it. I sure as hell won't." He swallowed, 
getting down to business again. "Well, first you'd better call 
the airlines-"

     "I already did," she interrupted. "He boarded a flight to 
Prague early this morning."

     "Prague?" Skinner scoffed. "What the hell is he doing 
there?"

     "I'm still not sure. He just left me, and I don't know why. 
This time I don't know what he's thinking..."

     "He would never just *leave* you, Scully, and he said he's 
coming back. Why don't you just let him do whatever he needs to 
do?" 

     Scully laughed at the very thought of leaving Mulder alone 
to his own devices. "You're kidding, right?"

     "You can kick his ass when he gets home," Skinner added.

     "Oh, don't think I won't," she said. "But whatever he's 
doing, he's going to be coming home sooner than he thinks. I'm 
going to Prague myself tonight."

     "Agent Scully..."

     She ignored his protest. "I have to find him, sir. Besides 
the fact that I'm extremely pissed at him for leaving so 
suddenly, I don't know what kind of trouble he might have gotten 
himself into."

     Skinner sighed. "I can give you a few days off, until 
Thursday at the latest."

     "I would appreciate that."

     "Fine. Just... be careful, okay? Like you said, you don't 
know what kind of trouble he might be in. I'm gonna give you 
International Credentials for a week, just to be safe. It'll 
allow you to cross borders without trouble and make minor 
enforcements in certain countries."

     "Thanks, sir, I owe you one."

     "No, you don't, Agent. I will remain in your debt for a long 
time."

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

CHAPTER 4- Trouble with a Capital M

     "All right, guys, I need more information," Scully told 
them, beginning to pace. "Langly, what else is in Mulder's e-
mail?"

     "There's nothing else," Langly replied. "It was all deleted 
as of... 1:12 this morning. He's covering his tracks."

     "Uncover them," said Scully. "There must be something there 
that he doesn't want me to see."

     "The FBI has a pretty good file purging system for its e-
mail," Frohike commented.

     Langly scoffed at him. "And I'm pretty good at cracking 
pretty good file purging systems." A few minutes later, he banged 
the keyboard in triumph. "There you go! The last five deleted 
messages in full, and twenty more remnants, dating back two 
weeks."

     Scully pulled up a chair next to Langly and scanned the 
screen. "Okay. Eight messages from me, six junk mailings, three 
FBI announcements, and- look at this- eight from a Michael N. 
Lowe, public anonymous e-mail address." She turned to the Gunmen 
with a confused look. "Now who the hell is Michael Lowe?"

     "No idea," said Byers, leaning over her shoulder to double-
check the name.

     "Well, only his last message is here in full," said Langly. 
"The rest are remnants, and I can only get the stats. They all 
have the same subject line, 'Re:Research,' except the last one, 
labeled 'Urgent'. The earliest one was sent April 22, and the 
last was sent early this morning."

     "He's been e-mailing this guy for two weeks," Scully 
muttered, thinking aloud. "But he never keeps his sources from 
me. Why wouldn't he tell me about it, especially if it had to do 
with research?" The Gunmen, of course, could only shrug.

     Just then, Scully's phone rang again, making her jump. She 
answered it quickly, annoyed at the second interruption. "What!"

     "Agent Scully, are you missing a partner?" said a voice with 
a thick European accent.

     Scully immediately sat up straight, almost knocking Byers 
over.

     "Who is this?"

     "All you need to know is that we are a little-known militia 
group in Eastern Europe... the Czech Republic to be specific, but 
I'm sure you've already discovered that."

     Terrorists, she realized. Oh, God...

     "Where's Mulder?" she demanded. 

     "We have him here. He's stumbled into something he had no 
business interfering with."

     "What are you talking about? Is he okay?"

     "Yes, he's fine. But his continuing health depends on how 
much you're willing to cooperate."

     "All right, then," she said, feigning calm. "What do you 
want from him? What do you want from me?"

     "The Central Intelligence Agency has gathered files on some 
of our enemies and their activities. You will bring those files 
to us, in person, within 48 hours. We will send you further 
instructions shortly."

     "You're insane. I can't do that, I don't have anywhere near 
the authority-"

     "You'll find a way, I'm sure."

     "Furthermore, it's treason to my country, it's punishable by 
death-"

     "What a coincidence. Agent Mulder awaits the same sentence 
here."

     Scully anxiously ran a hand through her hair. "Let me talk 
to him."

     "No, I'm afraid we can't do that-"

     "God dammit, let me talk to him! Now!" She was nearly 
screaming into the phone.

     The man paused, startled by her little tantrum, but obeyed. 
He yelled something in Czech to his comrades. Scully heard a door 
open, followed by slow shuffling footsteps, then a loud thump and 
a good old American curse. A few moments later, she heard the 
very tired voice of her partner.

     "Hi Scully," he mumbled.

     "Mulder! Oh God, are you okay?"

     "Oh, yeah. I love it here. They're treating me real nice- no 
HBO, no heated pool, but the torture's free." He paused a moment, 
then added quietly, "I'm in *big* trouble, Scully." He sounded 
like a six-year-old who had been caught playing with matches.

     "Trouble, Mulder? No shit. And you'll be in even bigger 
trouble when you get home and I can get my hands around your 
throat."

     "Well sorry to disappoint you, Scully, but it doesn't look 
like I'll be coming home anytime soon."

     "Yes, you will, Mulder. I'm coming to Prague tonight."

     "What? No, Scully, I told you not to try and find me! These 
guys are psychopaths, they're dangerous, and I don't want you 
anywhere near them-"

     "You should have thought of that before you left," Scully 
retorted. "You're never acting alone, Mulder, it's always with 
me, and you know that. I'm your partner. You knew perfectly well 
that I'd find you and follow you, no matter what kind of trouble 
you were in, and you still left."

     Ouch. He felt the guilt physically triple in his stomach.

     "Scully, I don't want you to get involved in this," he said 
firmly. "Send someone else to get me, but you stay away. I'd 
never forgive myself if you got hurt."

     She sighed. "I know. So you'd better hope I make it all 
right."

     "No! Dammit, Scully, don't do this-" But his captors 
suddenly pulled the phone away and hung up. He glared up at the 
man standing before him in the darkness.

     "What the hell do you want? What did you ask her for?"

     "That's not something you need to know, Agent Mulder."

     "I swear to God, if you don't play this straight, if this is 
some sort of trap-"

     "I assure you, Agent Scully is of no more political use to 
us than you are."

     "So you'll let us go, right? When she gives you what you 
want, you'll let us both go?"

     The man shifted, and although his face was in silhouette, 
Mulder could tell he was smiling. "We'll see," he said.

     "What do you mean, 'we'll see'?" Mulder snapped. "That's how 
it works, you stupid son of a bitch- she pays the ransom and you 
let us go!"

     "We'll see," the man repeated. "We might make some additions 
to our terms, once she gets here."

     Mulder's breath caught in his throat. Oh, God, he realized, 
they're going to kill her. They're going take what they want from 
her- *everything* they want- and then they're going to kill her.

     "You listen to me, if you so much as *look* at her wrong, I 
will have the FBI, the CIA, and half the goddamn U.S. military 
find you and flush you out of existence-"

     The man laughed. "Don't you wish you had that power, Agent 
Mulder? Such empty threats, nothing more than words. The truth 
is, your government doesn't give a damn about you and your 
partner. You're just two pesky flies buzzing around the sugary 
secrets they're trying to keep. You'll get swatted, eventually. 
We're just going to save them the trouble."

     The man crouched in front of Mulder and took out a roll of 
duct tape. He leaned close and whispered tauntingly, "But who 
knows, my men might take a liking to Ms. Scully. We may just want 
to keep her alive for awhile, you know, some of the boys haven't 
had that kind of fun in a long time-"

     Mulder screamed at him, enraged, but was quickly muffled by 
a strip of duct tape across his mouth. The terrorist laughed 
again and, after delivering an unwarranted kick to the chest, 
left his prisoner alone in the darkness.

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

CHAPTER 5- Michael N. Lowe

     "Damn!" Scully hissed, putting away her phone. "They hung up 
on me."

     "Is Mulder okay?" asked Byers.

     "Yeah," Scully sighed, trying to rub the stress out of her 
forehead. "For now."

     "I assume it was Mulder's phone they were using," said 
Frohike.

     "Even so, we might be able to trace the satellite signal to 
within a few miles of his location," said Langly.

     "That's not necessary," Scully replied. "They're going to 
tell me where they are. They asked for a ransom."

     "What is it? I'm guessing it's not something we could get at 
Wal-Mart."

     "Not quite. They want intelligence files. From the CIA."

     "Holy shit," said Frohike. "That's risky business you're 
getting yourself into."

     "No, that's risky business my partner has gotten me into."

     Frohike tried valiantly to lighten the mood. "Ah, screw him. 
How about if I be your partner now?" He winked at her. Langly and 
Byers snickered. Scully rolled her eyes but smiled slightly.

     "The thing is, Frohike, that right now is the closest I've 
ever been to taking that offer."

     "Ooh, she's really pissed at him," said Langly.

     "I love it when she's pissed at him," said Frohike 
excitedly.

     "Okay, first of all, let's check out this Michael N. Lowe," 
said Scully. "Who the hell is he, and what was Mulder doing with 
him? Let's see that e-mail." She turned back to the computer and 
opened the last message in the inbox. 


From: Michael N. Lowe (mnlowe@mail.public.com) 
To: Fox W. Mulder (fmulder@fbi.gov) 
Date: Saturday, May 8 2000 12:46 AM 
Subject: Urgent

Agent Mulder- 
They have found us out. Slavomir knows I have been communicating 
with you and he is planning to destroy all my research, all my 
data, within twelve hours. I know that my work is especially 
valuable to you, so you understand why I need you to come to 
Prague NOW and take it from me for safekeeping. Board the 1:42 AM 
flight from Washington, I will be waiting for you at Prague 
International. Come alone, and, as always, your absolute 
discretion is appreciated. 


     Scully pointed to a word in the e-mail. "There," she said, 
"look. We have another name, Slavomir. Run a search, guys."

     Frohike was now sitting at another computer. "Slavomir, 
Slavomir... okay, here we go. Dorjan Slavomir, leader of an 
international terrorist organization called the Neo-Communist 
Coalition of Prussia, or the NCCP. He's not on the FBI's most-
wanted terrorist list because his focus is on Eastern Europe, not 
America. But he's still very dangerous, it says, and it's been 
suggested that the CIA has been trying to disband the group since 
1997."

     "How dangerous is this group?" Scully asked.

     Frohike paused to further scan the results, then frowned. 
"Jeez, Scully, maybe you oughta take a look at this. There's 
articles from newspapers in Germany, Austria, Czech Republic, 
Hungary, Romania... all of them about fatal attacks on civilians 
that the NCCP took credit for. Suicide bombers, arsonists, 
snipers taking victims in random public places. Recently there 
have been some anthrax scares, and threats of bioterrorism..." 
Frohike looked up at Scully and shook his head. "These guys sure 
play dirty."

     "Why civilians?" she asked softly, her eyes glued to the 
screen and the horrific pictures displayed within the articles.

     "Just to exert their power, I guess," said Frohike. 
"Apparently they want these European countries to become 
communist, and will continue to terrorize their citizens until 
their demands are met. Evil Nazi bastards," he added under his 
breath. 

     "What could Mulder possibly have gotten into this for?" 
asked Byers.

     "It's not Mulder, directly," said Scully. She nodded towards 
Langly's computer. "It's Michael Lowe. He's obviously some sort 
of scientist, a researcher. My guess is that he works for Dorjan 
Slavomir." She sighed. "Why Mulder is involved with him, I have 
no idea."

     "I don't think that matters at the moment," said Langly, 
staring at his computer screen. "Point is that these guys have 
just sent us an e-mail requesting over four hundred gigabytes of 
CIA data by noon on Monday. They want the files delivered in 
person, rather than over the net. They say that the transfer 
would take too long and we might be able to sabotage their 
networks during the transmission."

     "Smart little terrorists," Scully muttered. 

     "And ruthless," said Frohike. "They'll kill you if you show 
up in person, Scully. Even if you give them the files." He was 
now reading Dorjan Slavomir's entry in the FBI's terrorist 
database. "This guy is known for eliminating all witnesses, no 
matter what. He's personally killed everyone he's ever dealt 
with. He's listed as armed, dangerous, aggressive, and 
untrustworthy."

     Scully was silent for a moment. "You're right," she said. 
"You're right, Slavomir can't be trusted. He'll kill me after the 
exchange, and he'll kill Mulder, too." She began to pace 
anxiously. "All right, come on, think. How am I gonna pull this 
off?" 

     Byers shifted uneasily. "I think... that it's time you got 
the FBI formally involved in this. You can't do this alone."

     "No!" Scully snapped, spinning around. "Do you know how big 
an issue this could become? I can't let the government handle 
this, they'll just get him killed! I have to do this myself."

     "Scully, it's too dangerous," Byers insisted. "Whatever 
Mulder's gotten himself into, and for whatever reason, it's 
become way too big to handle with just your badge, gun, and 
medical degree! You're both in way over your heads!"

     "No," she said, shaking her head determinedly. "Look, I'm 
going to Prague, with or without your help. Hopefully with."

     The Gunmen glanced at each other, silently conceding 
defeat. "What do you need us to do?" Langly asked.

     "Help me make a plan to get Mulder out of there. Figure out 
how to get me in and out of that building without being noticed. 
And give me the tools to do so."

     There was a long pause while they considered the extent of 
her request. "All right," said Byers, finally. "But it'll take 
some time."

     Scully smiled, realizing that she had succeeded in 
completely enlisting their help. "I have until 6:47 this evening, 
when my flight to Dresden leaves." She sat down at a table next 
to Langly and rubbed her hands excitedly. She had a chance, now. 
She was going to find him. 

     "Let's get to work, guys."

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

CHAPTER 6- Destination: Prague

Sunday, May 7, 2000 
12:22 PM (5:22 AM EST) 
Dresden, Germany 

     Scully had tried to sleep during the ten-hour, trans-
Atlantic flight, but failed miserably. Unlike her partner, she 
had never been one to sleep on airplanes, and in this particular 
case she was also too anxious to let her thoughts slow enough to 
fall asleep. The confidence she had felt while plotting strategy 
with the Lone Gunmen was now completely gone, replaced by 
overwhelming dread. There were so many things to do, so many 
risks to take, and she had to take them all alone.

     Luckily, her International Credentials had allowed her to 
check her gun without much trouble, along with the few other 
"toys" she'd borrowed from the Lone Gunmen. As for personal 
items, she'd packed very light, bringing only the essentials, and 
the most utilitarian clothes she had. Something told her she 
wouldn't want to dress up for where she was headed.

     Now, she had just checked into a cheap motel room in 
Dresden, about half an hour from the airport. The room was small 
and contained little more than a double bed, a table, and a 
bathroom, but it would serve her purposes.

     She tossed her suitcase unceremoniously in a corner but 
placed her carry-on bag neatly on the bed and unzipped it 
carefully. One by one, she unloaded the tools the Lone Gunmen had 
given her: among other things, a coil of lightweight but strong 
rope, a switchblade Swiss Army knife, and a set of custom-made 
gadgets to use on the security cameras.

     Scully sighed at the array of gear displayed before her. To 
hold it all, she had a utility belt with a gun holster and small 
knife sheath. For the other gadgets, a lightweight but rugged 
black backpack. Worn over her sleek black pants, shirt, and 
boots, the equipment would make her look just like one of those 
video game heroines men were always drooling over. I should take 
a Polaroid for Frohike, she thought with a grin. I might need to 
bribe him in the future.

     Back home, Frohike had actually spent hours teaching her 
how to use the video interceptors; when wired to a security 
camera, they would capture and loop thirty seconds' worth of 
video, covering her tracks. Very handy, she had to admit.

     The Lone Gunmen had also managed to hack into the CIA 
database- not to steal files on Slavomir's enemies, as the ransom 
requested, but to download all available information about the 
NCCP (which wasn't much). They knew the address of the NCCP 
headquarters from the terrorists' e-mail, and the CIA had 
blueprints of the building. This, of course, had helped immensely 
with their plans.

     But the plans also depended on three assumptions: one, that 
the guards would be changed at midnight, as was standard in 
American military and general security; two, that Mulder would be 
kept in the basement like any other prisoner; and three, that the 
security cameras did not monitor sound. If any of those 
assumptions turned out to be incorrect, well, the game was 
definitely over.

     Meanwhile, Scully had about eight hours to kill before she 
had to leave for Prague, an hour's drive from Dresden. Enough 
time for a jog to clear her mind, a shower, and a long, much-
needed nap.

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

Monday, May 8, 2000 
12:15 AM 
Prague, Czech Republic

     Scully crawled along the metal air ducts, navigating with a 
tiny compass, dragging her backpack behind her. She had entered 
the duct system through the roof of the building, as planned; the 
guards had indeed changed at midnight and all she'd had to do was 
fix the camera on the roof and unscrew the metal grate covering 
the vent.

     She'd been crawling for nearly fifteen minutes, but luckily 
her size made it less uncomfortable than she'd thought it would 
be. Nevertheless, she knew she'd probably be sore later... three 
nights a week at the gym and training as a "field agent" had 
still not quite prepared her from the spy work she was now 
engaging in. She wondered if CIA agents actually trained for 
this... she imagined a class called "Enemy Headquarters 
Infiltration 101, Chapter 5: Air Ducts Are Your Friends."

     Finally she felt a draft of warm air circulating around her; 
the exit to the elevator shaft must be nearby. Sure enough, she 
heard the loud hum of the motor echoing through the empty passage 
and found herself facing another metal grate. She quickly 
unscrewed it and laid it behind her in the duct, and peered out 
into the dark elevator shaft.

     She was about eight floors up, and the shaft was about ten 
feet wide. The elevator cable was within leaping distance, but 
although Scully was not particularly afraid of heights, she was 
not one to go swinging around on ropes and cables while at least 
eighty feet above solid ground. She would have to wait for the 
elevator.

     After about five minutes, she finally sensed it coming out 
of the darkness below her by the increasing volume of the motor 
and the gust of air the elevator car brought with it. Slipping 
her backpack on, she focused the adrenaline that had gathered in 
her stomach and jumped out to grab the cable. She squeezed the 
steel cable hard between gloved hands, slowing her descent onto 
the roof of the car so that she wouldn't make too much noise when 
she landed.

     The car stopped with a squeak and a hiss from the pneumatic 
brakes below, and Scully froze, poised like a black cat on the 
roof. She felt the car shift slightly as a few people entered the 
elevator, and she could faintly hear voices speaking in a 
language she didn't recognize.

     The elevator squeaked again and began to descend, slowly, 
and Scully counted the floors as they passed. Finally the car 
stopped again at what must have been the ground floor and its 
passengers exited. Scully looked around, then peeked over the 
edge of the car; sure enough, she was one floor above the 
basement. So close, and yet so far...

     Suddenly the elevator door opened again, and another 
passenger entered. Scully waited, praying he'd be going down, but 
the car shook and began to ascend. She had only a few seconds to 
react- looking around frantically, she spotted another air vent a 
few feet above her, large enough to crawl through. Whether it was 
by divine providence, sheer luck, or just the building's design, 
there was no grate covering the opening.

     Barely pausing long enough to judge the distance, Scully 
made a flying leap towards it, and caught its edge with her 
elbows. Dangling by her arms, she managed to pull herself into 
the air duct just before the elevator car passed.

     She laid there for a moment, catching her breath and rubbing 
her throbbing knees, which she'd banged hard against the cement 
wall as she'd climbed. Looking behind her, further down the 
cramped aluminum passage, she saw that it sloped steeply 
downwards- thank God, she thought, it heads toward the basement. 
She was almost there.

     After descending along the slant for about twenty feet, she 
began to hear voices again below her, but much louder and clearer 
this time. Now she recognized the language as Czech, which 
sounded like German but was actually completely different. Ugly 
language, she couldn't help but remark to herself. Especially 
when it's being barked by terrorist security guards on the other 
side of a thin metal barrier...

     Scully kept crawling until the voices faded, and the ducts 
became level again. More importantly, the space opened up into a 
wide area- still not tall enough to stand up in, but roomier than 
the tunnels she'd been navigating in. Before her she saw a series 
of grids, each seemingly belonging to a separate room below. The 
rooms would be very small, and she realized with both excitement 
and fear that she'd found a collection of holding cells... rooms 
to keep prisoners, and that included Mulder.

     She peered down through each grate, breaking the darkness 
below with a tiny LED flashlight, but most of the rooms were 
empty. She was just beginning to worry that maybe they weren't 
keeping Mulder in the basement- maybe he was on one of nine 
floors above, or, God forbid, in a completely separate building- 
when she noticed that the last vent was closed, while all the 
others were open. She tried to pry apart the slats of the grate, 
but they were made of steel, so instead she turned to her trusty 
screwdriver once more.

     Scully carefully unscrewed the panel and slid it out of the 
way, revealing a small, dimly lit room below. There were no 
guards to be seen, so she poked her head out and surveyed the 
room. Sure enough, her partner was curled up in the opposite 
corner- facing the wall, his hands and feet bound behind him, 
duct tape over his mouth. Her heart skipped at the mere sight of 
him, and she let out a relieved sigh at having found him, against 
all odds. 

     But then she noticed a surveillance camera hanging a few 
feet away. She pulled another one of her video interceptors out 
of her backpack and very carefully attached it to the camera, 
just as Frohike had taught her. The light on the gadget turned 
red, indicating that it was recording the video loop, and after 
waiting thirty seconds, it turned green.

     She put away her tools and left her backpack off to one 
side, then tied the rope to a steel beam nearby and prepared to 
descend into the room. The ceiling was rather low, and the drop 
was only about ten feet, so she swung her legs through the 
opening and carefully climbed out.

     She could only hope that what waited for her below was a 
healthy partner and a quick, smooth escape for both of them.

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

CHAPTER 7- Risky Business

Monday, May 8, 2000 
12:39 AM 
Prague, Czech Republic 

     Mulder didn't move at the soft sound of her feet hitting 
the floor, and a tiny knot of fear twisted in her stomach. She 
ran to his side and knelt before him, then gently turned him over 
to face her. His eyes were closed, but he was breathing steadily. 
He was disturbingly pale, the pallid shade of his skin 
contrasting with the dark bruises scattered over his face. He 
obviously hadn't been able to shave lately, and he looked drawn 
and haggard. They must have done a number on him to make him look 
like this after only one day, she thought bitterly.

     "Mulder!" she whispered in his ear. "It's me, wake up!" She 
propped him up in her arms and shook him carefully, then a bit 
harder. He still wouldn't wake, so she had to resort to more 
aggressive methods. She ripped the duct tape from his mouth, 
eliciting a faint groan. But at last he opened his eyes and 
looked up at her groggily.

     "Scully..." he sighed. "No, you've got to get out of here, 
they'll kill you-" He tried to shake her grip on him but she held 
on tight.

     "No, Mulder, it's okay. I snuck in through the air ducts, 
they don't know I'm here."

     "You... you what?" He stared at her for a few seconds, and 
finally gave her a weary smile. "You are amazing, Dana Scully, 
you're incredi-"

     "Are you all right, Mulder?" she interrupted. She held up a 
finger for him to follow with his eyes, and he performed the 
exercise with bored familiarity.

     "Uh, I could use a coffee and a shave, actually-"

     "But you're not hurt?" she asked impatiently, feeling his 
forehead and then his pulse. "You're okay?"

     "Yeah, I'll be fine," he assured her.

     Scully nodded slightly, but said nothing. Good, she thought, 
I'm glad you're fine, so I can chew you out myself now. I hope 
you're ready.

     Mulder was anxiously tugging at his restraints. "Come on, 
Scully, help me get this cord off my... hands?" The frosty look 
she was now giving him made him turn the statement into an unsure 
question, and he raised an eyebrow at her. He could tell what was 
coming and his eyes widened as he braced himself. What was the 
line? Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned...?

     "Listen to me now, Mulder- don't you *ever* do this to me 
again," she snapped. "Ever! I mean, what were you *thinking*?! 
I'm supposed to be your *partner*, Mulder! Do you have any idea 
how worried I've been since you left? Do you even *care*? And did 
you ever think about what I might have to do to get you back, if 
you got into trouble? Or are you so blinded on your wild goose 
chases that you don't even think about me, about what you're 
doing to me?!" 

     Scully inhaled deeply, having ranted in one breath. Mulder 
just gazed at his feet, and she had never seen such remorse in 
one person's face.

     "I've thought about you every second, Scully," he said 
softly. "Every single second since I left you. And believe me, 
I'm sorry I left, because look at what I've dragged you into. I 
mean, if anything happened to you..." He realized he was sounding 
cliché, even though the thought was genuine. "I just wish we were 
back home, so I could make all this up to you, and get a little 
closer to deserving you as my partner again... in everything." He 
glanced up at her uncertainly.

     Scully stared at him, speechless. Well, there it goes, she 
thought. I knew I wouldn't be able to stay mad at him for long. 
It's not fair. Why does he have to be so damn charming? 

    She exhaled, her expression softening. She had spent enough 
time being angry at him, but now, with him looking at her like 
that, she quickly decided that he was forgiven for the moment, 
and she wanted to move on to the making-up part. She gave him one 
more admonishing glare, grabbed him by the collar with both 
hands, and yanked him roughly towards her, kissing him.

     "Now that's the greeting I was hoping for," Mulder mumbled 
against her mouth.

     "Shut up."

     "Yes, ma'am," he agreed, and kissed her harder.

     But she pulled back, and he groaned again. "Mulder, no, 
listen to me. We really have to go. Now." She reached behind him 
for his hands, felt the strong plastic zip-cords binding them, 
and pulled out her pocketknife. But suddenly he jerked, and she 
immediately glanced back up at him. He was staring wide-eyed at 
something behind her, and he was wearing the dreaded panic-face.

      Scully spun around and found herself with a piece of cold 
metal hovering between her eyes. The man holding it smirked down 
at her and cocked the gun.

     "Get up, Agent Scully, I believe we have some business to 
take care of."

     She raised her hands in half-hearted surrender and slowly 
got to her feet. "How did you know I was here?" she asked.

     "Our cameras have audio surveillance, too," said the man. 
"Weren't counting on that, were you?" He grabbed her roughly by 
the arm and turned her against the wall, quickly searching her 
for weapons. He took the knife from her hand and her gun and 
stuffed them both in his coat pocket. 

     "You came alone?"

     "Yes."

     "You're sure no one followed you?"

     "Yes."

     "And you have the files?"

     "No."

     He flipped her around to face him and squeezed her shoulder 
until she winced. "What did you say?"

     "I don't have the files on me."

     "Where are they, then?"

     "I'll disclose their location once you release Mulder and 
convince me that you won't just kill us as soon as we leave. If 
you harm either one of us, those files will remain hidden and you 
will never get what you asked for."

     The man chuckled. "You're being very foolish, Agent Scully."

     "No, you're being unreasonable," she snapped, her voice 
rising. "You think I don't know who I'm dealing with here, what 
kind of people you are? I know what you guys do, and I know how 
you do it, and it disgusts me. But now I want to talk to 
whoever's in charge here, not some pathetic underling who's been 
brainwashed by the 'noble' cause of a bunch of insane fanatics. I 
want to talk to Dorjan Slavomir."

     The man glared at Scully. "All right, Agent Scully. Mr. 
Slavomir would like to speak with you, also. He is less than 
pleased that you tried to bypass our deal." He stepped back from 
her and raised his gun again, motioning her further away from 
Mulder. After glancing at her partner, she reluctantly obeyed, 
and watched as the man held an intercom to his mouth and spoke. 
"Geryk speaking, Mr. Slavomir. She's ready to see you."

     A few moments later a tall, rather large man entered, 
followed by three more guards. He was dressed nicely, in a dark, 
well-cut suit, but his hair was graying and his face was dark and 
slightly wrinkled with age and stress. He looked like an Eastern 
European mob boss, Scully thought, and she would have been amused 
if she hadn't been trying to think of a way to get herself and 
Mulder out of the trouble they'd gotten into.

     Dorjan Slavomir sauntered up to her and stood before her 
silently for a moment, looking her up and down. Finally he spoke, 
his voice deep and calm.

     "Agent Scully, I see you've found your partner... without 
our help. And I hear that you've come without the files. Well, 
you've certainly got nerve." When she didn't respond, he advanced 
closer to her, staring her down. She took a step backwards, 
trying to put space between them, but soon felt the hard wall 
against her back and was forced to face him.

     "This is what we're going to do," he said coolly. "You're 
going to tell us where the files are, as we asked. And then I'll 
let your partner go, as you asked. See? Just like our original 
arrangement." Slowly he raised a hand to her cheek, but she 
immediately slapped it away. He chuckled.

     "But there's a catch, Agent Scully," Slavomir continued. 
"Since you decided not to be straightforward with us, since you 
tried to avoid completing our agreement..." He raised his hand to 
her face again, but this time he caught both her hands before she 
could hit him.

     "Your partner can leave. But you, my dear... you stay."

     "No!" Mulder shouted from the corner. "She goes, I stay! 
Scully, just tell him where the files are and get the hell out of 
here!"

     "But Agent Mulder," Slavomir taunted, still gripping 
Scully's hands between his own, "I don't want her to leave. You 
neglected to tell me what a beauty your partner is. And besides, 
I prefer American girls, whenever I can get them." He pressed his 
lips to her left hand. 

     Scully's eyes remained fixed on Slavomir, but her fear was 
starting to show. "If you keep either one of us here for long, 
the U.S. government will come looking. And I really don't think 
you want that."

     "No, you're right, I don't want that. What I want is for you 
to tell me where you hid the files I asked for."

     She paused stubbornly and glanced at her partner, who was 
wearing a look somewhere between desperate and concerned. "You'll 
let Mulder go?"

     "Free as a bird." 

     Scully sighed. "All right. It's in my pocket-" She tried to 
wrench her hand free from his grip, but he held her firmly and 
reached into her hip pocket himself, retrieving a small orange 
key.

     "Locker in Prague International Airport," Scully muttered, 
trying to sound as if she actually cared about the locker's 
contents- which she knew were nothing but air. She had secured 
the locker as a last-minute idea, a final precaution just in case 
all else failed. Now that all else *had* failed, she could only 
pray that the terrorists bought it.

     Slavomir smiled, his eyes darkening. "There. That wasn't so 
difficult, was it? Please allow me to express my gratitude..." He 
pinned her wrists tightly above her head with one large hand, as 
the other one stroked her cheek, then slowly trailed down her 
throat. His lips curled up in sick satisfaction when she 
shuddered. She wasn't sure if she could have knocked him away, 
but whether or not she was physically strong enough, she didn't 
want to create a scene while four armed guards surrounded her and 
Mulder. Unfortunately, Slavomir took her lack of response as an 
encouragement, and leaned down to place a not-so-chaste kiss on 
her collarbone. Scully shut her eyes in pure revulsion, not even 
daring to breathe. She squirmed against him, every muscle tense 
and aching to get away from his touch. Oh God, she thought, 
anything but this...

     "Patience," Slavomir whispered as he kissed his way back up 
to her ear. "We'll finish this later, love, after all my men have 
had a turn..."

     Mulder jerked hard against the binds around his wrists, 
nearly dislocating a shoulder. "Bastard!" he screamed. "Get your 
hands off her! I'll stay, I'll do whatever you want, I swear, 
just *don't touch her*!"

     "All right, will someone please shut him up?" Slavomir 
snapped, glancing at Mulder annoyedly. The momentary distraction 
was all Scully needed to recover her bearings and catch him off 
guard with a swift, immobilizing kick to the groin. Slavomir 
shrieked and doubled over in pain, and Scully grabbed frantically 
for the gun in his holster. But a split-second later, four other 
guns were raised, cocked, and aimed straight at her head. Scully 
froze and sighed in defeated frustration.

     Slavomir slowly stood upright and raised his hand, glaring 
maliciously at Scully while he considered whether or not to give 
the signal his guards were waiting for. But finally he exhaled 
and lowered his hand, once again cool and composed.

     "Put your weapons away," he ordered, and the guards obeyed, 
hesitantly. He looked down at the locker key in his hand, then at 
Scully. He shook his head. "I believe you've lied to me, my dear. 
You didn't even get the files, did you?"

     Scully glared back at him but didn't answer. Slavomir 
chuckled mockingly at her self-assurance. "Well, then. Looks like 
Agent Mulder will be staying with us indefinitely-"

     "No..."

     "-and so will you, Agent Scully."

     With that, Slavomir turned his back on her and briskly 
walked out of the room. But before he closed the door, he stopped 
and turned slightly, addressing the guards over his shoulder.

     "Have fun with her, gentlemen. Do whatever you want. But 
keep him alive. And don't kill her either... she's mine."

     And he locked the door behind him.

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

CHAPTER 8- God and His Gun

Monday, May 8, 2000 
12:32 AM 
Prague, Czech Republic 
 
     The four guards grinned at each other, then at Scully. Her 
eyes widened as they slowly advanced on her, savoring the hunt 
and its inevitable outcome. She started to make a mad dash 
towards her partner, but the head guard, Geryk, drew his gun and 
shot at her, deliberately missing but making her freeze.

     "Stay away from him," Geryk ordered. "Be assured I'll shoot 
him if you try any tricks."

     "No, don't listen to him, Scully, run! Get out of here, go!"

     "She's not going anywhere, Mr. Mulder," said Geryk. "Ms. 
Scully now belongs to Dorjan Slavomir. My comrades and I are just 
going to borrow her for a while."

     Mulder snarled at him. "You lay one finger on her, I swear 
to God you'll beg for a swifter death before I'm done with you-"

     "If you don't be quiet, Mr. Mulder, we won't let you watch," 
said Geryk with a chuckle. He stood before Scully and lowered his 
gun, leering at her mischievously as the three others joined him, 
encircling their prey.

     Scully glanced desperately at Mulder, unsure of how to 
defend herself against the armed monsters gathered around her. 
She vainly tried to appeal to them. "I'm a United States Federal 
Agent," she told them, her voice wavering. "I have International 
Credentials, and if anything happens to me they will come after 
you..."

     Geryk ignored her. He muttered something in Czech to his 
comrades, and they grinned like wolves about to finish a kill. 
Scully spun around and tried to run again, but two of the guards 
sprang forward and quickly grabbed her arms, twisting them behind 
her back. She wrestled against them for a moment, but they still 
managed to drag her to the floor. They flipped her onto her back 
and held her down firmly, their hands on her wrists, shoulders, 
and hips, effectively pinning her. One of them slapped a hand 
over her mouth, stifling her scream.

     "Scully!!" Mulder yelled, his heart twisting painfully in 
his chest. He knew he wouldn't be able to handle having to watch 
those bastards hurt her, right there in front of him; he couldn't 
imagine a worse nightmare, and the very thought that it was real 
made him absolutely sick. He felt a dizzying rush of adrenaline 
flow straight to his brain, and he cursed fiercely at the guards, 
throwing out more vicious but empty threats.

     He had to get free. He couldn't let this happen, not to 
her. He had to help her. Screw the guards and their guns, he'd 
take every one of their bullets and still find the energy to kill 
them all with his bare hands before he fell dead into Scully's 
arms. There was no doubt in his mind, and there would be no 
hesitation on his part. 

     But he couldn't get himself free. If they had bound him with 
anything else, he might have had a chance; rope could be loosened 
and rolled off or untied, duct tape could be torn or might lose 
its adhesive. Even with handcuffs he could break his own hands to 
get them out, if he really needed to. But the plastic zip-cords 
offered no escape; only searing cuts around both wrists that now 
dripped blood between his hands as he struggled mindlessly, 
ignoring the pain, screaming for his partner.

     Geryk turned to him and sighed in annoyance. "Agent Mulder, 
I'm going to have to shut you up if you insist on ruining the 
atmosphere." He came closer, raised his gun again, and aimed it 
directly at Mulder's head.

     "What, are you ready to kill me?" Mulder challenged, afraid 
but glad to have at least distracted him from Scully. They hadn't 
touched her yet, but he'd be damned if he wasn't going to delay 
them for every last second he could, in case she had a better 
plan for freedom than he had. He swallowed hard and tried to keep 
Geryk focused on him. "You think that gun in my face will shut me 
up? Or have you forgotten Slavomir's orders? Gotta keep me alive, 
you stupid bastard! You're not supposed to kill either of us!"

     "True," said Geryk. "But everything else is fair game." With 
that, he drew back his arm and pistol-whipped Mulder across the 
forehead. Mulder crumpled over onto his side and gasped through 
the exploding pain. 

     "Mulder!" Scully managed to cry, through the guard's hand. 
The guard rewarded her outburst with a quick backhand to the eye, 
which she practically ignored. She turned her head towards her 
partner and watched in horror as Geryk began to kick him brutally 
in the chest.

     "No, stop it!" Scully shouted desperately. "Damn it, Geryk, 
stop, leave him alone!"

     "You want my undivided attention for yourself, Agent 
Scully?" Geryk called, still standing over Mulder, poised for 
another savage kick.

     "Just don't hurt him," she pleaded, but then had a sudden 
surge of courage. No more begging for his life, she told herself. 
Just be brave and get them away from him. "Leave him alone," she 
said resolutely. "I'm the one you want."

     Barely conscious, Mulder groaned her name in protest. He 
tried to sit up again, but Geryk punched him fiercely in the 
head, and he fell, silent and motionless. The right side of his 
face was covered in blood, trickling from his mouth and from the 
gash on his forehead onto the concrete floor, and for a few 
utterly horrifying seconds Scully feared he was dead. But at last 
she saw his chest rise and fall with a steady breath, and she 
released the breath she had been holding herself. She glared 
loathingly at Geryk.

     "Get the hell away from him," she hissed through gritted 
teeth.

     Geryk laughed and kicked Mulder in the stomach once more, 
simply to defy her. He put away his gun and wiped his bloody 
hands on his sleeves, then quickly returned to Scully and 
crouched beside her. "I'm so sorry for the interruption. Where 
were we?" He hovered over her, his eyes black and intensely 
focused on her, and leaned down to brush his lips against the 
pulse in her throat, then lower, pulling at her collar to expose 
more skin to his scrutiny. His other hand trailed to the hem of 
her shirt and slid underneath, tracing her ribs, then edging 
along the contours of her bra. Scully tried to kick him, but he 
quickly trapped her legs with his, and she couldn't budge. Geryk 
chuckled softly and whispered in her ear, his breath making her 
shiver in disgust.

     "Relax. Just imagine... that I'm your partner." He pulled 
away briefly, his hands fumbling with his belt buckle. 

     Scully screamed once more, half hoping to simply wake 
herself from this nightmare and find herself back in bed at home. 
Or, admitting the cruel reality that she was indeed in the 
clutches of four ruthless terrorists, perhaps Mulder would hear 
her. Maybe he'd wake up and finally get himself free, somehow, 
and make them stop, get them away from her... was it even 
possible? She turned her head towards him again and released a 
tearless sob when she saw that his status hadn't changed. So she 
struggled as hard as she could against the grips holding her 
still, but although she was strong, she was certainly no match 
for the four armed guards pinning her down. Their hands tightened 
painfully on her limbs and she knew all hope was gone. 

     Oh God, no... Scully shut her eyes tightly, her last resort 
being simple prayer. Our Father who art in heaven, hail Mary full 
of grace... Please God, please God, don't let this happen, please 
God, do something, please-

     She suddenly felt a heavy weight fall onto her, and she let 
out a startled cry. But... something was wrong, the guards were 
yelling, they had released her arms. And something warm was 
dripping down her neck...

     She opened her eyes and gasped at the sight of Geryk's dead 
body lying on top of her, blood seeping from a single bullet 
wound in his forehead. His eyes were still open, burning his 
leering gaze into her memory. She heard three more faint gunshots 
echoing above her, and looked up at the other three guards just 
in time to see them collapse to the floor, each with a bullet to 
the head.

     Seconds passed, maybe minutes. Scully could hear nothing 
except her own heavy quaking breaths, and her heart pounding so 
loudly she was afraid it would wake the dead and she'd have to 
fight them all over again. Finally, with effort, she pushed 
Geryk's corpse away and sat up slowly. She retrieved her gun and 
knife from his coat pocket and sighed at the growing pool of 
blood around the three other guards. What the hell had happened? 
Does God carry a sniper rifle? Do guardian angels patrol with 9 
mm Colt pistols?

     Suddenly her thoughts were interrupted by a distant siren. 
Shit, she thought, I forgot the room's under audio surveillance. 
They'll be coming for us again, and it's my gun against a 
dozen...

     She hastily crawled over to Mulder and pulled his limp body 
against her, checking him for serious injuries. He had a nasty 
slash across his forehead from the barrel of the gun, cuts around 
his wrists, and a concussion, but nothing more critical than 
that. He would live, but he was still unconscious- and she had to 
revive him quick if she was going to get him out of there.

     "Mulder, wake up! Please, you have to get up, they're 
coming!" She shook his shoulders desperately, shouting over the 
piercing alarm. "Come on Mulder, I can't get you out of here 
unless you help me! Wake up!"

     He didn't move. Scully could hear the pounding footsteps of 
several guards marching down the hallway. She glanced anxiously 
at the door, then up at the large aluminum air duct where her 
rope dangled and her tools waited, ready to provide her escape. 

     No time, no time...

     "Mulder, please!" she begged, cradling his head and softly 
stroking his bloodied cheek. "I don't want to leave you here! I 
need you to get up, now! Come on!"

     Then she heard voices approaching outside the door. She 
recognized Dorjan Slavomir's low menacing tone, ordering his men 
in Czech. They were getting closer, they were about to come in, 
they were about to find her-

     Go. Now.

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

     The door burst open and five more guards charged inside, 
guns drawn. Slavomir stepped out from among them and narrowed his 
eyes at the bodies on the floor, soaked in blood. He scanned the 
room, but detected only one living being- the hostage, 
unconscious and bleeding but breathing slowly. Slavomir's eyes 
flashed with fury, and he cursed in Czech.
     She was gone.

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

CHAPTER 9- Aftermath 

Monday, May 8, 2000 
3:46 AM 
Dresden, Germany 

     Though she'd had an hour's drive to calm herself, Scully was 
still shaking too hard to get the key into the lock. When she 
finally succeeded, she practically fell into the room, exhausted, 
and kicked the door closed behind her. 

     She wandered aimlessly into the tiny bathroom and slowly 
removed her filthy black clothes, checking herself briefly for 
injuries. Throbbing red handprints on her wrists and shoulders 
from being held down... bruises, all over... a few cuts from 
crawling through the ducts... and a black eye would be making a 
later appearance. But there was no pain, at least not yet. At the 
moment she was too exhausted and emotionally numb to pay 
attention to any physical pain.

     Looking in the mirror, she was momentarily shocked at her 
overall appearance. She'd never looked like such a mess, she 
thought, and frowned at herself. Normally she would half welcome 
her new battle scars, and would bear them proudly, showing the 
ones with good stories to her partner. It would usually get a 
mild rise out of him; he hated being reminded of any injuries 
she'd sustained, and he would get intensely protective even if 
she herself didn't care anymore. But recently... he'd been 
willing and eager to kiss away any pain she might be hiding, and 
she'd been happy to oblige...

     She turned on the shower and stepped inside, not bothering 
to wait for the water to get warm. The chill stung her bruises as 
she worked the cheap hotel shampoo into her grimy, matted hair. 
She needed to sleep, but she had to get clean first, she had to 
scrub away the feeling of Slavomir's hands on her face, his 
disgusting mouth on her throat, the feeling of Geryk pinning her 
to the floor, touching her, helpless...

     She glanced down and saw dark red blood swirling down the 
drain. It wasn't her own, she knew. It was Geryk's blood, it was 
the guards' blood. And... some of it was Mulder's. It was his 
blood, from her hands, from when she had desperately tried to 
wake him, bring him with her, bring him home. 

     She had his blood on her hands.

     Scully dazedly turned off the water and got out of the 
shower, wrapping herself in the thin abrasive towel provided by 
the substandard motel. She returned to the bedroom, opened her 
suitcase, and began to dress, wearily putting on a comfortable 
bra and underwear. But as she reached into the suitcase to pull 
out a t-shirt and a pair of flannel pants to fall asleep in, her 
hand brushed something even more familiar.

     Why had she packed this, she wondered. She didn't remember 
getting it out of the closet at home, she didn't remember putting 
it into the suitcase. She didn't remember even thinking about it, 
and was certainly surprised to find it here. But she was not 
surprised to find her hands shakily picking it up, her eyes 
glazing as she looked at it. She held it to her cheek briefly, 
trying to absorb the comfort it offered.

     Scully slipped her sore arms into the long sleeves of the 
large white shirt and slowly buttoned it up, watching herself in 
the mirror. It reached her knees and made a nice nightshirt, as 
always. But more importantly, it smelled like him, it reminded 
her of him, it almost felt like him. She folded her arms, 
embracing herself, feeling the fabric under her fingers. This was 
almost how it felt when he held her every night- his arms around 
her, protecting her from the dangers that always seemed only a 
step behind them, the warmth of his body providing the refuge she 
often sought. She could almost feel his breath in her hair, the 
pressure of his chest as it rose and fell steadily against her as 
he slept...

     Oh, God. She'd almost had him, she had almost gotten him 
back. She had seen him, spoken to him, touched him... why 
couldn't she save him, too? Now she didn't even know if he was 
okay; what if he was badly hurt, what if they had done something 
else to him after she left-

     Oh, *God*. She had left him. She had left him lying there, 
unconscious and bleeding, while she fled, running away to save 
her own skin. Why had she run? Why didn't she just stay with him, 
and face whatever would happen to her, and then let him heal her 
wounds afterwards? Why not? Her mind was already a pile of 
psychological scars, anyway- what was one more? But no, that 
particular scar would have been too much, it might have broken 
her. So she had run, she had escaped without him. She felt like 
such a coward, she was so ashamed, so disgusted with herself. If 
only she'd gotten his hands free, if only she'd acted faster, if 
only she'd been stronger...

     But she'd had no choice, she told herself, her eyes burning 
with tears that would not fall. He was unconscious, there was no 
way she could have gotten him out of the building by herself. 
There had been more guards coming. And besides- she who fights 
and runs away, lives to fight another day. She couldn't have done 
anything more for him under the circumstances... right?

     These were things that Mulder would have told her, to 
reassure her. But he wasn't there to say them, he wasn't there to 
support her, and it was all her fault. She had failed him, in the 
worst way. And that, despite all her denials, was something she 
had always feared.

     Scully had been too shocked and afraid to shed a single tear 
during that entire horrible scene with Geryk. She had wanted to 
cry, both for herself and for Mulder, but no tears had come. But 
now... remembering how she'd left him, how she'd left half her 
heart behind with him, how she'd kissed him goodbye, not knowing 
if she'd ever see him again but not having time to burn him into 
her memory once more... now, she finally gave in and collapsed 
limply onto the bed, crumpling into heart-wrenching sobs. At last 
the tears came, and she welcomed them, allowed them to flow 
without the slightest restraint. She shut her eyes tight and 
eventually cried herself into an exhausted but restless sleep.

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

4:39 AM 
Dresden, Germany 

     The man in black easily picked the lock and opened the door 
slowly, carefully. Stepping inside, he silently crossed the room 
to her bed and peered down at her, moonlight spilling through the 
thin, torn curtains onto her face.

     She was not sleeping peacefully, and he could tell. Tears 
had soaked her cheeks recently, and the way she clutched at the 
covers betrayed her distress. Every once in awhile she would 
mumble something incoherently, and then settle back into silence. 
The white shirt she was wearing gleamed in the faint light from 
the window, and he could see that it was much too large to be 
hers. He was pretty sure he knew whose it was, and he wasn't 
surprised that she had wrapped herself in it. He could put two 
and two together: they were obviously something more than 
partners.

     And he found himself wishing it weren't so; that she wasn't 
claimed by anyone, that she was free for him to pursue, so that 
he could unravel her mind and discover more of the spirit that 
fascinated him. She was beautiful, there was no denying that, but 
that's not what truly interested him. It was her courage, her 
drive, her resilience; he hadn't seen such impressive strength 
since... well, it had been four long years since he'd seen anyone 
remotely like her.

     He knew who she was- he had looked her up as soon as he 
began following her, little more than two hours earlier. Special 
Agent Dana Katherine Scully, FBI. A medical doctor trained in 
forensic science. Hell, he now knew her home address, birth date, 
cell phone number, badge number, even her social security number. 
He had also downloaded her medical records, and upon reading 
about her endless afflictions only admired her more for 
overcoming them.

     He suddenly realized he was acting like a stalker, and the 
thought made him chuckle to himself. He'd never looked at his 
line of work that way, but then again, he'd never used his 
resources to follow a woman out of his own curiosity. That was 
definitely not in the job description.

     Nevertheless he was glad he had found her. He smiled 
slightly down at her sleeping form and then crept over to the 
nightstand, upon which was a motel notepad and a pen. He tore off 
a sheet, wrote a brief message, and laid the paper on the bed 
beside her.

     He sighed softly, glancing at her sleeping form one more 
time. Finally he stepped backwards, slowly blending into the 
blackness of the shadows, until he turned and left the same way 
he came- without a sound, locking the door behind him.

     Outside, he lit up his last cigarette, crumpled the empty 
box of Morleys, and tossed it in the gutter.

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

CHAPTER 10- Angel with a Colt Pistol

Monday, May 8, 2000 
7:12 AM 
Dresden, Germany 

     Scully got a scant four hours of sleep that night, although 
she probably wouldn't even consider it sleep. More like an 
unbroken chain of nightmares, only one link of which she could 
remember... 

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

     He was dead, in that dream. She tried to help him, but he 
was just lying there, covered in his own blood, which had already 
lost its heat. His entire body was cold and stiff, and his eyes 
were still open, staring up at her empty, without their familiar 
warmth. She was holding him in her arms, crying, when Dorjan 
Slavomir came and pulled her away. He laughed at her, then turned 
back to Mulder and kicked him, and her partner's body shattered 
into a billion tiny particles, sprinkling the floor.

     She screamed, then, and Slavomir disappeared, leaving her 
kneeling and sobbing and touching the pieces, which were like 
minuscule glass shards. They cut her hands as she held them, and 
the pieces mixed with her blood as they flowed like sand through 
her fingers. Over and over, she felt her partner's life literally 
slip through her fingers...

     And suddenly she was kneeling on a beach- a coastal beach at 
sunset. The sand around her was soft, not sharp like the pieces 
had been, but the blood was still there on her hands. She was 
digging, digging, desperately trying to find something buried 
beneath her. Every handful that she cleared from the hole was 
replaced by an avalanche of more dirt, more sand and water and 
blood. But finally her fingers hit something, and she frantically 
cleared away the debris. It was a face- someone was buried there 
beneath the sand. She stopped in surprise as a rush of water 
flowed into the hole and washed away the mud, made it clear so 
that she could see. 

     She gasped when she realized that the face was her own. 

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

     Scully sat up straight, a bit too quickly, and a spell of 
dizziness washed through her head. She thrust a hand down onto 
the bed to steady herself, and felt not fabric under her fingers, 
but paper. She blinked the dizziness away, looked down at the 
note on the bed next to her, and picked it up cautiously.

     *I will help you.*

     Her tired brain read the words three times before she 
realized their implication, and her eyes widened. She shuddered 
and hugged Mulder's shirt tighter around her body, as if she were 
trying to cover some imaginary nakedness. Someone was here, she 
thought, someone was in my room. Someone had stood there and 
watched me sleep... 

     What the hell is going on here? 

     Slowly she turned the paper over to find another four words: 
Seidnitzer and Blochmann, noon.

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

11:41 AM
Dresden, Germany

     Twenty minutes early, Scully entered a shop on the corner 
of Seidnitzer and Blochmann streets. She had seen from the street 
that the third floor of the building was abandoned, and would 
provide a good view through the broken windows. She wanted to be 
the first one there, to have the advantage of preparation and to 
assess the situation before making herself known. She had no 
idea, of course, what this mystery person looked like, but she 
would hopefully be able to figure it out when he or she arrived.

     Luckily the shopkeeper could comprehend Scully's German, and 
after Scully explained the importance of her FBI badge and her 
International Credentials, the woman begrudgingly allowed her to 
climb the back stairs to the third floor.

     The room upstairs was half-filled with boxes, and Scully 
tried the lights out of habit. They worked, but she wanted the 
room dark, so she left them off. She pulled a box next to the 
window and sat down, leaning just past the window frame to peer 
out onto the street without being seen herself.

     About five minutes later, still fifteen minutes before noon, 
a man stopped to lean against the wall below her, and Scully 
caught him checking his watch. He was wearing a Boston Red Sox 
hat and a black jacket, so she could neither see his face nor 
tell if he was armed. But he was looking around rather anxiously 
for someone with nothing better to do than smoke a cigarette.

     She was about to get up to go downstairs when the man 
suddenly turned his head and looked directly up at the window. 
Scully jerked backwards, almost falling off the box. But she 
wasn't sure if he'd actually seen her, so after a moment she 
carefully checked the street again.

     He was gone.

     "Shit," she muttered aloud, and jumped up from her seat. She 
headed for the stairwell but just before she opened the door she 
heard someone quickly climbing the stairs, and she froze.

     The man in black drew the gun from his hip holster and 
slowly opened the door, just enough for him to slip into the 
room. He didn't bother to try the light switch, knowing that a 
well-lit room would do him no good. He was already her prey, he 
figured.

     He was right.

     As soon as he was clear of the door, she leaped out from 
behind him and tackled him, shoving him up against the wall. She 
wrenched his gun away and dropped it behind her, then cocked her 
own weapon and pressed it to the back of his neck. He didn't even 
try to struggle.

     "You're the one?" she hissed in his ear. "Noon, at 
Seidnitzer and Blochmann?"

     "As promised," said the man. "But you're a little early, and 
not quite on the street corner."

     Scully flipped him around to face him, and yanked off his 
hat. She held up her palm, revealing a small piece of paper. "So 
you left this note for me?" she demanded, crumpled the paper and 
threw it in his face. "You broke into my room and left me this 
note?!"

     "Yes. And if I'm not mistaken, I said that I'd help you."

     Scully shoved him back against the wall and began to search 
him for more weapons, keeping her gun to his head. "What makes 
you think you can help me?"

     "I know what I'm dealing with. I'm a... professional."

     "Professional what?" she muttered, and reached beneath his 
coat to remove the gun from his shoulder holster.

     The man rolled his eyes. "You missed one," he said 
apathetically.

     Scully glared at him and slowly reached down to pull the 
last gun from its place against his left ankle. "Interesting," 
she said sarcastically, looking at his arsenal. "Glock .45, 9mm 
Colt, and a Smith & Wesson... good choices." She kicked all three 
weapons out of reach.

     "You know, I could kill you right now if I wanted to. I 
don't even need those."

     "Maybe so, but you're the one with the hesitation, and I'm 
the one with the Sig Sauer to your head and nothing to lose," 
Scully replied. "And that makes me more dangerous than you."

     The man grinned. "Fair enough."

     "Now, who are you?" she demanded. "Why are you following 
me?"

     The man remained perfectly calm. "I was intrigued by you," 
he replied simply. "I was just curious to learn your business in 
Prague, which I have since figured out."

     "You've been following me since Prague?"

     "I was there in the NCCP headquarters with you. I took out 
those guards so you could escape."

     Scully gaped at him. "That was you?" She released a tense 
breath and lowered her gun. "Who the hell are you?" she asked 
again, quietly.

     He lifted a hand to the light switch, and in another moment 
the room was better revealed to both of them. Scully could see 
the man's face for the first time, and she was a bit taken aback. 
He looked to be in his late thirties, but for some reason she 
knew he was younger than that. He was tall, with dark hair and 
eyes, and the way he smirked revealed a dashing cynicism that 
vaguely reminded her of Alex Krycek. But this man was much 
kinder, if his eyes were any indication.

     He blinked at the light once, then extended his hand to her. 
"Covert Agent Andrew Frank, CIA. I was sent to sabotage the 
efforts of the NCCP terrorist group. Our paths crossed by mere 
coincidence, lucky for you."

     "You... saved my life."

     He smiled, pulled a box of Morleys from his coat pocket, and 
lit up a cigarette. "Yeah, well, as I said, you intrigued me. I 
wanted to find out who you are. Normally I wouldn't have 
interfered with terrorist business any further than my mission 
dictated."

     "And what exactly is your mission, Agent Frank?"

     "Oh, you can call me Drew."

     Scully narrowed her eyes at him. "Agent Frank."

     Frank shrugged, still grinning. "Have it your way." He put 
away his cigarettes and instead pulled out a small package 
wrapped in brown paper. He carefully tore away the paper, 
revealing a pneumatic syringe containing a translucent liquid, 
and lifted it to show her.

     "My mission, Agent Scully. Here you see the product of 
experiment number 126- their first, last, and only success. It's 
a deadly toxin that can either be ingested, injected, or sprayed 
as a vapor inhalant. The NCCP had hired a German scientist to 
produce it, and God only knows what they planned to do with it. 
The CIA sent me to steal it and either return it to the U.S. or 
destroy it."

     Scully stared at the syringe in awe. "And this is all of it? 
There's no other supply?"

     "This was all that was produced, as far as we know. The 
scientist, Dr. Coen, was recently dismissed for reasons that I 
have yet to figure out. And for some reason, Dr. Coen's life was 
spared. He fled to France Saturday evening."

     "Saturday evening... Prague time? That's when my partner, 
Agent Fox Mulder, arrived in Prague. And a few hours later I got 
a phone call from Slavomir, and an e-mail about Mulder's ransom."

     "And how exactly did your partner get into this mess in the 
first place?"

     Scully crossed her arms. "That, Agent Frank, I don't know. I 
haven't the slightest idea."

     "Well," said Frank, "whatever he was expecting to gain from 
his adventures in Prague, I'm sure he's quite ready to go home 
now."

     "I'm sure he is," Scully said softly. "I tried to get him 
free, but they..." She frowned and glanced at the floor. "They're 
not going to let Mulder go, Agent Frank, especially now that 
you've taken that weapon from them."

     "So I'll give it back," said Frank. "We'll trade the toxin 
for Agent Mulder."

     Scully's eyes darted back up to him, not believing what 
she'd heard. Finally she shook her head. "Why are you doing 
this?" she asked. "Why are you willing to help me like this? 
You're ready to forfeit your mission, and return a weapon of mass 
destruction into the hands of terrorists, and you don't even know 
me."

     Frank put the syringe back in his coat pocket. "But I do 
know you," he said mysteriously. "Or at least, I knew someone 
very much like you."

     "What are you talking about?"

     "Never mind."

     Scully sighed. "Look, do you have any way of contacting 
Slavomir? He's been using Mulder's cell phone, but I can't 
connect when I try to call."

     "We'll have to wait for them to call us," said Frank. "And 
it won't be long- they want their poison back, and they want it 
as soon as possible."

     Scully crossed to the window and looked up at the overcast 
sky. She suddenly noticed that she was wringing her hands, and 
stopped. "So you're saying that all I can do is sit back and 
wait? While my partner is still in their hands? He's already 
injured, they could be finishing him off right now, he could 
already be dead-"

     "He's not dead," Frank assured her, coming up behind her. 
"He's their only bargaining chip, they can't afford to lose him. 
They may torture him, yes, but they won't kill him."

     Scully raised a hand to her face, pretending to rub her 
forehead but actually hiding the pain in her eyes. "I have to get 
him out of there, Agent Frank."

     "I understand, Agent Scully."

     No, she thought, you couldn't possibly understand. You don't 
know what Mulder and I have been through together, how he's saved 
my life more times than I can count, rescued me from dangers 
unimaginable, unbelievable. You don't know how important he is- 
to the resistance, to the survival of mankind, but most of all, 
to me...

     "What do we do while we wait?" she asked quietly.

     Frank stamped out his cigarette and gestured to the door. 
"Let's head back to the motel," he said. "I've reserved the room 
next to yours, and I have more information for you there. There 
are things you should know, about the terrorists, about the 
toxin. I think you'll find it interesting..."

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

CHAPTER 11- Someone to Watch Over Me

Monday, May 8, 2000 
3:58 PM 
Prague, Czech Republic

     Mulder slowly regained consciousness, and rolled over onto 
his side, groaning in pain. His cheek was pressed against the 
concrete floor, and he felt something sticky. It smelled like...

     He opened his eyes and could see, even in the dim light, a 
very large pool of dried blood. To his left. Where he'd last seen 
Scully.

     He sat bolt upright, ignoring the agony shooting through 
his torso. His eyes widened as he gauged the size of the puddle. 
No one could have survived that much blood loss...

     "Scully!" he yelled hoarsely, as if she were somewhere 
nearby and would appear if he could just call her name loud 
enough. "Scully!"

     A guard stepped out of the shadows from where he'd been 
standing near the door, and Mulder's head snapped in his 
direction. "Where is she! Is this her blood, you son of a 
bitch?!"

     "Who, the other prisoner?" asked the guard, both taunting 
and stalling. 

     Prisoner. The word conjured a hundred horrible images in 
Mulder's head, none of which he wanted to dwell on. "What 
happened to her?"

     "I know neither Agent Scully's condition nor her 
whereabouts," said the guard.

     Mulder let out a moan, and his forehead fell to rest on his 
bent knee. "Oh God, just tell me she's alive..." 

     "I know neither Agent Scully's condition nor-"

     Just then, the door opened and Slavomir entered with a regal 
stride. He stood before Mulder and nudged him sharply with his 
foot.

     "She's alive, Agent Mulder," he said. "She's alive, but you 
have to cooperate with us or I assure you, you will never see her 
again."

     Fearing the worst, Mulder glared up at him furiously. 
"Where'd you take her? I'll fucking kill you if you touched her-"

     Slavomir reached into his pocket and pulled out Mulder's 
cell phone, dangling it in front of him tauntingly. "Would you 
like to speak to her, Agent Mulder?"

     Mulder eyed him suspiciously. "Where... where is she?"

     Slavomir sighed. "She's somewhere in Germany, I believe. 
Here, I'm sure she would love to hear from you-"

     "What do you mean, she's in Germany? What the hell 
happened?"

     "Why don't you ask her?" said Slavomir, and he leaned down 
to cut the cords around Mulder's wrists. Mulder immediately swung 
at his head, but the terrorist dodged the blow and Mulder felt 
the guard's gun dig into his shoulderblade. 

     Slavomir chuckled. "You want proof she's alive? I'm letting 
you call her. Tell her I will contact her later today with 
further instructions for an exchange."

     Mulder shook his head. "No way, I don't want her coming back 
here."

     "Fine," Slavomir said impatiently. "We'll meet somewhere 
else, in neutral territory. Now call her and tell her that."

     "Why don't you tell her yourself?" Mulder retorted.

     Slavomir turned his back and started to put the phone back 
in his pocket. "Oh, I'm sorry. I was just under the impression, 
Agent Mulder, that you were desperate to hear her voice. But it 
seems I was mistaken-"

     Mulder instantly extended a hand towards the phone. "All 
right," he mumbled pathetically. "Let me talk to her. Please."

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

Monday, May 8, 2000 
4:02 PM 
Dresden, Germany 

     Drew Frank sat in a chair near the window, his guns spread 
out on the table before him, his eyes darting nervously at 
anything that moved outside his motel room. Scully was lounging 
on the bed, reading through a thick pile of CIA classified 
documents.

     They consisted mostly of research lab notes, written in 
German but translated into English. Though Scully had been 
reading for nearly four hours, she'd only gotten through about a 
tenth of the information. So far she'd been able to gather that 
the toxin lies dormant in the victim for a specific amount of 
time, after which it suddenly paralyzes and then kills. And it 
had few side effects while it lay dormant: only elevated air 
pressure, high altitude, and extreme high temperatures could 
reveal the toxin's presence to an unknowing victim, through 
excruciating and dangerous symptoms similar to the bends.

     "Frank?" Scully said aloud, intending to ask him a question, 
but he jumped, startled. Scully gave him an apologetic look. "A 
bit anxious, Frank?"

     "I've been anxious for three years straight," he replied, 
turning a bit so he could talk to her but still keep an eye on 
the window. "How's your reading going?"

     Scully sighed at the huge stack of papers and folders. "It 
doesn't exactly have a thrilling pace, to be honest. How long did 
it take you to read it all?"

     Frank chuckled. "A few months," he admitted. "But I had to 
read it in German."

     "Oh," said Scully, "you speak German?"

     "Ja, spreche ich Deutsches," said Frank, "und ich denke Sie 
auch bin sehr schön."

     Scully shot him a cautioning look. "I speak German too, 
Frank."

     Frank's face went red. "I wasn't aware of that," he mumbled. 
"Did, uh, did you want to ask me something?"

     "Yeah," said Scully, still eyeing him warily. "I wanted to 
know how the NCCP was planning on spreading this bioweapon. You 
said it could be injected, inhaled as a vapor, or-"

     "Ingested," Frank finished. "They were going to put it in 
the water supply. It's highly resistant to purification methods, 
so it would be catastrophic if even the slightest amount got into 
the public systems. And it would be nearly impossible to stop it 
from spreading."

     Scully frowned. "That's another thing. How were you planning 
on destroying this stuff, I mean, before you decided to trade it 
back to Slavomir?"

     "The only way to destroy it is to neutralize it," said 
Frank. "And there are only two ways to do that: mix it with the 
antidote, or use it on a living human and let it run its course. 
Which, of course, makes the living human no longer living."

     "And you don't have the antidote," Scully guessed.

     "No," said Frank. "That would be a separate mission. All I 
was supposed to do is get this stuff back to the U.S. so the CIA 
can keep it safe."

     Suddenly, Scully's cell phone rang, and she frantically 
snatched it from the nightstand, almost breaking it as she 
flipped it open and thrust it to her ear.

     "Scully," she answered.

     "Oh, thank *God*," gasped the voice on the other end.

     "Mulder!" she cried, and jumped to her feet. "Are you okay?"

     "I'll live," he said dismissively. "What about you, are you 
all right? When I woke up I was terrified, you were gone and 
there was so much blood on the floor, I was afraid they had... 
they wouldn't tell me anything, so I thought..." He exhaled, and 
his voice lowered, his next words quiet but tense. "They didn't 
hurt you, did they? Did they touch you, Scully?"

     Scully swallowed. "I'll be okay," she said softly, but her 
partner was by no means convinced. And he was well aware that she 
had not actually answered his questions.

     "Scully," he murmured. "What did they do to you? Tell me 
what happened-"

     "No, Mulder. I'll be okay," she repeated, this time more 
firmly. "How did you get access to your phone?" she asked, 
quickly changing the subject.

     Mulder sighed, deciding to let her stifle the issue, for 
now. "Slavomir's letting me talk to you."

     "What? Why would he do that?"

     "First of all, to prove to me that you really escaped. But 
mainly, I think he's afraid that after your last encounter, 
you'll give up on me and go home without making the original deal 
with him. He's going to call you himself later today, to set up 
the trade, but right now he wants me to make sure you'll return 
to Prague and finish the business." 

     He hesitated, then added, "But Scully, listen to me. I 
don't want you to try this deal again. I mean it. I'd feel a hell 
of a lot better if I just knew you were back in D.C.  I want you 
to go home, and send somebody else to get me." 

     His tone was overly stern, and there was a long silence 
after he finished. He waited for her response, hoping that she 
was taking him seriously and giving his words adequate thought. 
But instead, she laughed.

     "Mulder, I'm not going back to D.C.," she said, amused at 
the very thought. "How could you think I'd just leave you here? 
But if it makes you feel any better, I'm also bringing somebody 
else with me to get you." She glanced at Frank, who was following 
her conversation intently. "I met a CIA agent who wants to help 
us. His name is Drew Frank and he-"

     "Wait, CIA, Scully?" said Mulder, incredulously. "And you 
trust him?"

     "He saved my life, Mulder. He helped me escape from the 
NCCP. He killed Geryk and the guards, before they could..." She 
didn't finish the sentence, and let Mulder fill in the blank.

     "Well even if he saved your life, for which I am very 
grateful, are you sure his intentions are good, are you sure he's 
there to help you? What if he's part of a trap? I mean, what's 
his plan?"

     "I still don't have the files they asked for, but Frank has 
something else that they want. We'll deal, Mulder."

     "Scully, I don't want to see you within a hundred feet of 
Slavomir again unless there's a very large fully automatic gun in 
your hand and a SWAT team around you."

     "Well we don't have a SWAT team, but the thing that Frank 
stole from Slavomir will certainly drive a hard bargain."

     "Oh, really. What is it?"

     Scully paused. She didn't want to tell him that she was 
going to give a weapon of mass destruction to a group of 
terrorists in order to save him. The poor guy was feeling enough 
guilt already. Besides, she was still coming to terms with the 
inevitable trade herself. She wasn't sure she would have the 
strength to put a lethal bioweapon in Slavomir's hand.

     "I can't tell you, Mulder," she said quietly.

     "Why not? What is it?" he repeated stubbornly.

     "Did you not just hear me? I said I can't tell you," she 
replied with a tiny hint of irritation. She hated keeping 
information from him, even though he had done the same to her 
many times before.

     "Scully, this is not sounding good... I can think of about a 
million things you might have that are worth more than my life."

     "Oh, stop it, now you're just being melodramatic," she 
scolded.

     "I can't help it. There's not much to laugh at around here."

     Scully sighed. "I know, Mulder," she said softly. "Just hang 
on for a little longer. Frank and I will make the trade. We'll 
get you home."

     "Dana..."

     "No, don't you dare start that. You only call me Dana when 
you think we're in more trouble than we can handle or you're 
afraid I'm going to get myself killed or something."

     "But we *are* in more trouble than we can handle, and I am 
*very* afraid for you-"

     "Come on, I'll be careful. And I have Frank this time. I'm 
not alone."

     Mulder sighed audibly. "Yeah... at least you're not alone." 
He paused, considering, and then asked, "Hey, is he there with 
you? Can I talk to him?"

     Scully cocked an eyebrow at Frank, who was watching her as 
he lit a cigarette. "He's here, Mulder, but I don't know if he 
wants to talk, and I'm not sure it's such a good idea-"

     "Why not? I just want to make sure he's going to back you 
up."

     "That's not necessary-" Scully replied quickly.

     Frank tapped her shoulder. "He wants to talk to me?" He 
motioned to the phone with one finger, his cigarette in the other 
hand. "Go ahead, give it here." Scully reluctantly handed him the 
phone, then stepped back, watching nervously. 

     "Agent Mulder," said Frank with an air of authority, "Drew 
Frank, CIA. Pleasure to make your acquaintance."

     "Likewise, but I wish I could shake your hand in person. You 
have my infinite thanks for saving my partner's life. I 
understand you've been otherwise taking care of her for me?"

     "Agent Scully doesn't need to be taken care of, Mr. Mulder. 
I'm just helping her get out of the trouble you've dragged her 
into."

     Scully suppressed a pitiful laugh. Poor Mulder. Frank was 
going to rip him apart and leave him for the vultures. She 
wondered what would happen when they met face to face.

     "Yeah, um, about that..." Mulder stammered. "Believe me, 
this is the worst guilt trip of my entire life. I feel bad enough 
about getting Scully involved, but now that you're pitching in to 
help me... I just really appreciate it."

     Frank turned away from Scully and lowered his voice so she 
couldn't hear. "Don't flatter yourself, Agent Mulder, I'm not 
doing this for you. I'm doing this for Agent Scully. You know 
why? Because I like her. She's fascinated me from the moment I 
saw her."

     The warning bells of jealousy started to chime in Mulder's 
head. "Excuse me?"

     "I just can't figure it out," Frank continued. "You've been 
her partner for what, seven years? Have you never noticed how 
strong she is? Has it never occurred to you that you get to work 
with the most amazing woman, every day? You're the luckiest 
bastard in the world, and you don't even know it."

     "Oh, believe me, I know."

     "No, apparently you don't," said Frank, his voice rising 
again. He turned back to Scully and looked her in the eye. "You 
just left her, you worried her half to death, and now you've put 
her in danger." He scoffed disdainfully. "Some partner you are."

     Scully shot Frank a nasty look and shoved at his arm. "Come 
on, Frank, that's not necessary-"

     "Look, buddy, I don't need any lecturing from you," Mulder 
snapped, now feeling a bit more defensive. "I'll be getting 
plenty of that from Agent Scully when we get back to D.C." He 
paused, then added with a slight smirk, "She'll probably have me 
doing lots of chores around the house, too. Maybe clean up the 
bedroom, you know, there's always clothes all over the place, it 
can get very messy..." Holy shit, what am I saying, he thought. 
He briefly thanked God (the one he just barely believed in) that 
Scully couldn't hear him hint at their sex life to a CIA agent- 
oh, the punishment for that would be very painful indeed...

     Frank narrowed his eyes, but chuckled slightly. "Point 
taken, Mr. Mulder," he said dryly. He thrust the phone back at 
Scully, who gave him a worried look as she held it to her ear.

     "Mulder?"

     "I don't trust him, Scully."

     She rolled her eyes. "Oh, I see. And what else is new?"

     "No, I'm serious, what happened to 'trust no one'?"

     "What! Look who's talking!" she snapped. "You left that 
motto behind when you decided to get stuck in Prague with a bunch 
of terrorists! And speaking of that, you still haven't told me 
the reason you did it."

     "I can't tell you yet," he told her. "If we ever get home, 
I'll tell you, but not now."

     "Why not?" she asked, frustrated.

     "Did you not just hear me? I said I can't tell you!"

     Scully was silent for a moment, furious that he had used her 
own words against her. "Fine," she said through gritted teeth. "I 
just hope your little secret is worth the mess you're making."

     "I didn't get into this mess on purpose," he said 
indignantly.

     "Maybe not, but you certainly got into it deep." Her voice 
was now dripping with resentment and she didn't even try to hide 
it.

     Mulder paused, suddenly aware of the alarming rate at which 
the argument was escalating. And the anger he heard in his 
partner's voice was beginning to worry him. "You mad at me, 
Scully?" he asked quietly.

     Scully sighed loudly, in utter aggravation. "Yeah, Mulder, I 
am. I'm mad about a billion things at once right now, all of 
which involve you and your situation. I don't understand how you 
can run off to Prague on the word of some terrorist doctor, and 
then accuse *me* of being too trusting. I don't understand why 
you won't tell me why you left in the first place. And I don't 
understand how you can be so hostile and ungrateful to Agent 
Frank, even though he saved my life and he's helping me save 
yours-"

     "Wait, you're taking *his* side?!" he said incredulously, 
his jealousy returning with a vengeance to instantly cancel any 
prior intentions of calming the argument.

     "There are no sides, Mulder! We're both trying to help you!"

     "I don't need his help, Scully!"

     "Well I do!" she yelled, finally losing her composure as 
well as her patience. "I'm dealing with terrorists here, Mulder, 
they were going to kill me, they tried to rape me for Christ's 
sake-" 

     There. That word, rape. She had finally allowed herself to 
say it. The sound of it horrified her, and made her momentarily 
lose her train of thought. When she continued, her tone was 
considerably softer, and quavered a bit.

     "You may not think you need Frank's help, Mulder, but you 
sure as hell need mine." She met the eyes of the man standing a 
few feet away from her, leaning against the door. "And I need 
Frank."

     "I thought you needed *me*," Mulder muttered bitterly.

     Scully swallowed hard, trying to curb her emotions until the 
conversation was over. "I need Frank right now," she repeated 
with conviction. "He's the one taking care of me, as you so 
*aptly* put it. He's the one watching my back this time, not you. 
You're not here." Her voice was beginning to break, but she was 
able to hold back the tears for a precious few seconds more.

     "You're not here for me, Mulder, and it's your own damn 
fault." 

     And she hung up.

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

CHAPTER 12- Solace

Monday, May 8, 2000 
4:24 PM 
Dresden, Germany

     Frank stared at Scully, and for a moment he actually pitied 
Agent Mulder. The poor guy was probably close to a heart attack 
already, but Scully's words would probably kill him before the 
terrorists could. Frank certainly didn't envy anyone on the 
receiving end of her emotional wrath.

     She was now staring miserably down at the phone in her palm, 
her hands hanging limply at her sides. She let it drop to the 
floor, producing a small thud.

     "Agent Scully..." he said tentatively. His voice seemed to 
break the spell over her mind, and she looked up at him, her eyes 
wide and glistening.

     "I didn't want to fight with him," she whispered. "I hate 
fighting with him. I really just want him back..." Her face 
crumbled into a combination of grief and remorse, and a tear 
trickled down her cheek, which she quickly wiped away. Frank 
reached out and lightly squeezed her shoulder, then pulled her 
into an awkward but comforting hug.

     "What did I say to him?" she cried, accepting Frank's 
embrace without even realizing what she was doing, nor caring. 
"It's not his fault he's not here, it's my fault. I couldn't save 
him. Oh God, he's already hurt so badly... what the hell is wrong 
with me? What kind of partner am I?"

     "Oh, come on," said Frank gently, "you're a great partner. 
Look at what you're doing for him. Look at what you've been 
through already for him." One hand wandered up to thread itself 
in her hair, while the other stroked her back softly. She could 
feel his arms tighten around her, and she closed her eyes, 
letting her tears soak his shoulder.

     Wait, she thought. Wait, something's wrong. As good as this 
feels, it's unfamiliar, it's not quite right. He's holding me 
like Mulder does, exactly the same, yet... so immeasurably 
different. His hands... they're taking Mulder's place, they're 
trying to replace him, replace his touch. No, he can't do that. I 
can't let him do that-

     Scully pulled back, a bit more abruptly than she meant to. 
She gave Frank a small grateful smile and wiped the tears from 
her face. "I'm sorry," she mumbled, gaining control of her voice. 
"I'm just so tired, I have jet lag and I haven't been sleeping 
well. I need to sleep..."

     "Scully. Are you going to be okay?" he asked, concerned.

     That question is for Mulder's use only, she thought, but 
she took a deep breath and nodded, avoiding his eyes. "I'm going 
back to my room. When they call, just answer for me, okay? Go 
ahead and set up the trade. I need to rest..."

     Frank nodded silently. She gave him another slight smile, 
without looking at him, and turned away. He stood there, watched 
the door close behind her, and frowned to himself. 

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

Monday, May 8, 2000 
4:24 PM 
Prague, Czech Republic 

     When Mulder heard the dial tone he barely suppressed the 
urge to fling the phone against the wall with every last bit of 
his rapidly waning strength. Instead he dropped it to the floor 
and watched indifferently as the guard picked it up and handed it 
to Dorjan Slavomir, who was leaning nonchalantly against the wall 
nearby.

     "You did not sound very convincing," said Slavomir. "The 
purpose of your phone call was to persuade her to come for you, 
not to make her so angry she leaves you."

     "She won't leave me," Mulder muttered, staring at the 
ground.

     "How can you be so sure?" Slavomir taunted, stepping closer 
to him. "You know what happened last time, of course. You think 
she's eager to try that again?"

     "Maybe you should be more hospitable next time," Mulder 
snapped angrily.

     "It's too late, she's already terrified of us."

     Mulder shook his head. "No, she's not terrified, she's too 
strong for that. I'm the one who's terrified."

     "As you should be. Do you have any idea what kind of death 
we have in store for you if our agreement isn't fulfilled?"

     "I'm not afraid of you," Mulder retorted. "I'm afraid for 
Scully. And I'm afraid that she'll-" He stopped suddenly, 
catching himself before he could finish the thought and reveal 
too much.

     But Slavomir sensed something, and he smiled to himself. "I 
heard you say she wasn't alone," he began. "She's with someone... 
a man. Who is he?"

     "Nobody. Never mind."

     "Oh, I see," said Slavomir. "So, the name Andrew Frank 
wouldn't ring any bells, would it?"

     The name did ring bells- those damn jealousy bells chimed 
again, loud and clear and echoing in Mulder's head. "How do you 
know that?" he demanded suspiciously. "Don't tell me he's one of 
yours."

     Slavomir laughed. "No, no, he's not one of ours. He's a 
legitimate CIA agent who has been tracking our activities for 
years now. He's been quite a thorn in our side." He leaned over 
Mulder and grinned. "But don't worry, your partner is in good 
hands. It's just too bad they aren't yours."

     In good hands? Mulder's teeth clenched as the envy overcame 
him and flashed disturbing images through his mind. That guy was 
with Scully right now, he'd saved her life the night before. What 
else did he do last night? Take her to Germany, hide her, keep 
her safe? Comfort her from the trauma of whatever Geryk and the 
guards had done to her? He didn't know what Drew Frank looked 
like, but he could picture his hands in Scully's hair, down her 
back, over her hips... His breath would blow softly on her neck 
as he held her, seduced her, loved her. Would he kiss her? Take 
her mouth, too? And would she kiss him back?

     Oh, God. The thought drove Mulder mad. He wanted to scream, 
and he wished he had his phone back so he could fling it against 
the wall like he'd wanted to.

     Instead he shut his eyes tight and took a deep breath, as if 
to cleanse the images from his head. He realized that he was 
shivering a bit, from an internal chill rather than external. For 
Christ's sake, get a grip on yourself, his common sense scolded. 
This is Scully you're talking about. Dana Scully. *Your* Dana 
Scully. You trust her. She'd never let Frank step in like that. 
She'd never do that to you.

     But what if I deserve it? he challenged. What if I've been a 
royal ass and I deserve to be replaced? Would she leave me then, 
if I've been pushing her away so long that I've finally pushed 
her over the edge? What would it take for her to leave me?

     And for the first time, Mulder truly doubted the strength of 
his relationship with his partner. He'd ruined it. Of course he'd 
ruined it, ruining things was one of Fox Mulder's specialties. 
Why should it be any different with the woman he adored?

     Slavomir could see the doubt shadowing his face, and he 
chuckled at the reaction he'd gotten out of his prisoner. "I know 
you don't want to believe that she'd leave you," he said, "but 
can you honestly be sure?" He was now circling Mulder, cruelly 
toying with his insecurities. "Are you sure you haven't pushed 
her buttons one too many times? Are you sure she hasn't gotten so 
frustrated with you and your foolish antics that she's run off to 
Fiji with James Bond? After all, she has someone else now to... 
take care of her." He crouched before Mulder, making sure every 
word was burned into his mind. "She doesn't need you anymore. 
She's not going to come."

     Mulder's heart plummeted straight into his shoes with the 
terrorist's words. Funny how the devil always sounded so 
convincing, so rational, so right. Of course he's right, he 
thought. I've gone too far, I've finally crossed the line that I 
never knew Scully had drawn. How could I expect her to put up 
with everything, without question, without complaint? I've 
ditched her too many times. I've treated her like a sidekick, 
when she deserves so much more, infinitely more than I can ever 
give her. She just couldn't take it anymore. And now, I've 
finally driven her to someone else, and even though I don't think 
she's ever truly needed me, she sure as hell doesn't need me now. 
She said so herself.

     She's not going to come.

     "Shoot me," Mulder mumbled, almost inaudibly.

     "What did you say?"

     "You're right. She's not going to come," he said, just a bit 
louder. He looked up at them in utter despair. "Shoot me, go 
ahead, get it over with."

     "That's some major depression talking," Slavomir said 
mockingly. "You're exhausted, you're in pain, and you're 
pathetically weak. You just want the easy way out. You're not 
thinking straight."

     Mulder stared numbly at his feet, wondering if his heart was 
leaking blood through his shoes. His shoes... untied, both of 
them. Now what did that remind him of?

     Slavomir ordered something in Czech to the guard, who 
produced a small syringe and knelt beside Mulder. "Time for 
twilight sleep, Agent Mulder," he sneered. "But only a nap... we 
want you fully conscious for the fun we'll be having later."

     Twilight sleep. Why did that sound so familiar? Mulder felt 
a slight sting as the needle pierced his arm, and within a few 
seconds he could feel his thoughts begin to slow.

     And what strange thoughts they were... he had no idea where 
they were coming from; it was almost as if he were channeling 
something, channeling memories he barely recognized in his 
injured, weakened, drugged state. Drugged... <I was drugged... 
they say this cat Shaft is a bad mother- shut your mouth!... I 
did NOT!>

     Mulder laughed out loud, attracting the curious attention 
of Slavomir and his assistant. He remembered... suddenly, in his 
darkest moments, he remembered every shining, beautiful memory of 
the past seven years with her. <Mosquito bites in the 
candlelight, laughing in the pouring rain... coconut cream pie, 
or is it lemon meringue? Every single time he held her in his 
arms... dancing to Cher, kiss on the forehead, cheek, hand, then 
Happy New Year... bee sting, I had you big time. Jeremiah was a 
bullfrog, was a good friend of mine... I love you... oh, brother. 
How to play baseball, hips before hands, hips before hands... the 
birds and the bees and the monkey babies. Maybe if it rains 
sleeping bags, you'll get lucky... sure, fine, whatever...>

     Slavomir leaned over him and narrowed his eyes in 
bewilderment as Mulder continued to chuckle witlessly.

     "She'll come for me," he said softly, smiling to himself 
even as his drugged mind slipped into unconsciousness. "She will 
come for me..."

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