From: sonny Date: Tue, 27 Jul 99 14:17:50 +1000 Subject: Human Affairs Parts 3-4/7 Source: direct Title: Human Affairs Author : Spider Email address: spider@webspin.org. all parts can be found at www.webspin.org/affairs.htm Rating : PG Category : S Spoilers: Everything up to mid Season 6 Keywords: MSR, slight S/other, M/angst Synopsis: Mulder's Oxford flat mate arrives unexpectedly with a compound mystery; modern dinosaur and human remains are found near a Loch in northern England. Disclaimers/Credits: see part 1 PART 3/7 CHAPTER 9 MEADE VILLAGE NORTHERN ENGLAND CHRISTMAS EVE Mulder was relieved to note Scully had found time to change. The smell of the morgue, not just death, but formaldehyde and a dozen nameless chemicals penetrated his clothes whenever he went near one. His dry cleaner had become accustomed to it now, but for quite a while the young woman had wrinkled her nose in distaste every time Mulder delivered his laundry. He would never dream of commenting but he always knew when Scully had just come from the morgue. No matter what perfume she used, even when she showered after an autopsy, it was impossible to hide. And if the bodies were in the advanced stages of putrefaction...he was just pleased that she had changed. After stopping at the constabulary for copies of the reports, Mulder had arrived at the first pub to find Scully declared Lord Forrester's Lady of the Castle for the evening. The villager's attention was so charming, Scully found herself blushing and turned to Mulder with a pleading look. But Mulder only grinned and shook his head. Tonight, Lord Forrester, his sisters and their husbands toured the village pubs, buying the patrons a round of Christmas drinks in a tradition long since set by his father. In turn, the younger villagers, with old-fashioned lanterns and shepherd crooks in hand walked with them from pub to pub through a thin layer of snow. They sang carols in hauntingly sweet voices, bringing fond memories to Mulder and a genuine smile to his partner's face. "Don't I always take you to interesting places for Christmas, Scully?" Scully's eyes rolled, but her smile stayed warm as Dale once again took her attention. Mulder watched them awhile, knowing that Dale in full swing could easily knock Scully off her professional feet. It would do her the world of good, he thought. Mulder managed to escape with Helen, Dale's sister, between pub calls. When they caught up with the party at the final stop, Mulder noted that Dale's arm draped across Scully's shoulders. She did not seem to be objecting in the least. Mulder had figured on it being a long night, but Dale had completed the rounds surprisingly fast. "We dine at nine old chap and the children must be in bed soon after." They returned to the castle in a fleet of BMW's and Rolls Royce's. While changing for supper, Mulder and Scully finally caught up on their afternoon's respective findings. "You go on down," Mulder told her as she emerged from her room in dinner clothes, "I'll check the email." When Mulder entered the family room, he spotted Scully standing alone under a huge Christmas tree. For once in the evening Dale was not by her side. "Merry Christmas Lady Scully!" Mulder whispered in her ear. "You're forgiven." Scully only half turned to face him, a rare truly carefree smile on her face. Mulder's heart moved. Her face in repose, free of worry and pain, free of the FBI persona she wore most of the time, was so very young and beautiful. He resisted the temptation of putting his hand to her cheek and replied with a grin to hide his emotions "For what?" "Everything." "They're quite lovely, aren't they?" Scully turned to see Jennifer, Dale's youngest sister. To Scully's bemusement, she discovered Dale was one of triplets. The oldest, Malcolm, had died unmarried and without issue in the yachting disaster that killed their father. His older sister, by two minutes, was Helen. The younger twins were brother James and sister Jennifer. All his living siblings were married and all but Jennifer boasted assorted children. Jenny herself was just showing the early stages of pregnancy. "Some of them are over one hundred years old." She added referring to the exquisite Christmas tree decorations. "How do you manage to keep them unbroken with all the children?" Scully asked politely, watching two boys, James and Scott, come charging past. "Boys, boys!" cried a middle aged nanny in hot pursuit. The adults laughed and followed the children into a large, elegant but casual Christmas supper. It was close to 10.30pm when the exhausted children were shuffled off to bed. Mulder also excused himself, anxious to begin reading the more detailed reports. He needed little sleep, a few hours before dawn would suffice. Scully excused herself as well, but Mulder surprised her "Why don't you relax, it's Christmas Eve? I'll let you know if Scotland Yard emailed anything." Scully stared at him oddly. Although he didn't need company while he poured over reports, it was uncharacteristic of him to even hint at one of them 'enjoying themselves' on assignment. "No, that's okay Mulder, there are some things I want go over." "Ah, but you must stay, just for a nightcap." Dale quipped. Before Scully could reply Dale had taken her in arm and joined his sisters and their husbands in the library. Scully turned, but Mulder was already leaving. "Anything, anything at all from Scotland Yard..." she called. He nodded and waved absently without replying. The look of sincerity in Dale's eyes seemed real, but Scully could tell she was being charmed by an expert. And yet, it didn't seem to matter. The remainder of the family had said their good nights soon after and Scully found herself alone with Forrester on a plush couch in front of the fire. She was sure this was about her fifth glass of wine, on top of the drinks at each pub. The soft glow of the Christmas tree and the fire were the only source of light in the room. Forrester had been at her side most of the afternoon and well into the evening. Scully wondered how she could ever have thought this man to be anything like her partner. Although they both shared a profound intelligence and quirky sense of humor, Dale seemed to be loved by everyone. He went out of his way to be gracious, in sharp contrast to Mulder who, if it served his greater purpose, carelessly ticked off his peers and superiors the moment he walked into a room. The villagers had been wonderful in the pubs, treating her like an old friend. The castle and the warmth of the family gathering, the carolers and endless drinks swirled through her mind, seducing Scully as surely as this man. This was nothing like the wild and sensuous feelings of rebellion evoked in Philadelphia and the ill fated Ed Jerse. This was soft and warm and glowing, comfortable. His face was so close to hers, his hands just touching her hip. It seemed the most natural thing in the world for him to close that small distance and kiss her lightly on the lips. Warm, male...Scully felt herself savoring the light kiss, the texture of his beard. How long had it been since a man kissed her? Philadelphia. But somehow that did not count, for it had been a moment of erotic abandon fueled at least in part by ergot. This was different, it was cozy and comfortable. He pulled slowly away. The kiss had been light, sensuous, but totally uninvasive...too short. She could not have taken offense, he had been so gentle. "You are very beautiful Dana Scully. I'm sorry if I spoiled your Christmas, but I confess to being selfishly pleased you could grace this castle." Scully hardly heard his words, her lips felt too sensitised by the feathery kiss. Neither were aware that Mulder had returned. The soft carpeting had hidden his footfalls. He had not see them until it was almost too late, but Mulder instinctively caught his breath and pulled back into the shadows. He found himself rooted, his body frozen like a deer in the lights of a car. Every instinct in him warred a bloody battle. Catching Dale in that position with a woman had been such a common event in Mulder's life, he would normally grin and wish him the best. But it was Scully in his arms. Scully, not some student. But isn't that what he knew would happen? Hadn't he deliberately retired early, leaving the playing field for Dale to make his move? Hadn't they each done that for the other on a dozen occasions? Scully... Dale had taken him aside in the Men's room at one of the pubs and asked Mulder about his relationship with his partner. "Just that, she's my partner." "I've seen the way you two gaze at each other across the room." Mulder replied, not really exasperated because it was a common mistake "I do not gaze at Scully. Yes, I watch her and she watches me, it's a survival habit." "Survival? My dear fellow you are in a rural English pub surrounded by good friends and Christmas cheer, what could possibly go wrong?" "You'd be surprised," he replied dryly "We've lived this long only by watching our own, and each other's backs. Keeping tabs on your partner's location and reading their state of mind and observations is a tactical habit." Dale looked at him unconvinced. "You aren't working tonight. C'mon Fox, it's me you're talking to. You have to be honest about this or I shall have sleepless nights wondering what I may or may not do." Mulder knew that he only had to raise an eyebrow, or shift his feet, just the vaguest indication and Dale would say and do no more. But he couldn't do it. He liked them both too much. He loved them both too much. He...his mind shut out the image it was beginning to form. Bad news being a psychologist. He had just analysed and concluded what his own mixed feelings were and it left only one answer. That, he could not have. "Dale, we've been partnered almost seven years, that's longer than a lot of marriages. She's as close to me, closer to me than anyone should ever have to be. She's cleaned me up, saved my butt, not just my job, but my life, more times than I can remember. And she'd follow, she has followed me to hell, then stood over me and thumbed her nose at the devil. I know, because I've done the same for her and would again without a second's hesitation. I cannot begin to explain what she means to me, what our partnership means. But for all that, because all that, we have never been and never could be lovers." Dale knew there was something wrong there. Fox was saying the truth, but there was something missing. "Dale, Scully has..." Mulder hesitated, trying to form the words properly "There's not a lot of time in our lives for outside...distractions. Scully needs...she deserves more. I can't give it to her, I only ever give her grief, but you've already given her something special." Forrester blinked in surprise as Mulder continued "I'd forgotten how fairy-tale Christmas at your place is. She'd be the last to admit it, even to herself, but you picked up on it last night. Scully's a sucker for...a castle at Christmas, carol singers and English plum pudding." "Ah but don't forget autopsying grisly bodies," Forrester frowned, remembering the afternoon with extreme distaste. "Scully just loves the ol' dicin' and slicin'. She loves a mystery under her Christmas tree. What can I say? She chose to be G woman instead of a family M.D. for good reasons." Dale had frowned, still unconvinced, but Mulder leaned towards him as someone else entered the washroom, "I'm outside the picture you have in mind....just be warned though, play it badly and she's got an incredible right hook." Dale laughed and they had moved on to the next pub. =A0 Now Mulder stood frozen, watching the slow seduction unfold. A part of him wanted to interrupt now, before it was too late while another part, his logical self, encouraged them to continue. He'd willed Dale to understand. Mulder could not be that way in Scully's life. He would not degrade their relationship with a mere fleeting sexual encounter. And he refused to throw yet more of his angst ridden emotional baggage onto her shoulders by allowing his love for her to overflow into her carefully hidden sensuality. He had slipped occasionally, confessing feelings, even love for her. But Scully had reigned it back or laughed it off. His rock, his anchor, protecting him from himself even where it involved loving her. His damned psychologist's mind forced him to admit that if he could not make love to her, he nevertheless wanted her to experience that pleasure. She deserved, no, she needed it. Who better than Dale? As Forrester bent to kiss her more deeply, Scully's soft moan aroused Mulder. Christ, Mulder, you really are one sorry son of a bitch. Being a voyeur was one thing if it was tapes and magazines, but something else entirely when it involved real life Scully. There be Dragons. He tried to back away, but the images came unbidden to his mind. The night he and Dale had unwittingly become involved in a menage a trois. Mulder swallowed heavily as the images formed. It had not been a sleazy, ribald encounter, but an incredible night of erotic sensuality. He felt, and knew Dale felt, absolutely no attraction to other men. But they had been comfortable, even aroused by each other's presence. There had been no intentional sexual contact between the two men, though physical contact was unavoidable. They had not flinched from that for they had not simply taken turns, it was nothing as base as that. They had jointly made love to a stunning Australian student who knew exactly how to pleasure two completely straight men simultaneously. It had been an accident, a one off, never to be repeated, never to be sought again, but it had brought them closer and developed in them an understanding of how a man could feel such love for another man while remaining a card carrying heterosexual. The ultimate in male bonding, Dale had described it when they had sat grinning over a cup of coffee the following morning. Mulder knew how sensual Dale could be. He knew how gentle and erotic he would be. And he wanted that for Scully. He would not lay awake thinking about what they might be doing. He would lay awake rejoicing in the knowledge of what they were doing, of how good it would be for her. He would take emotional pleasure in that, sublimating his emotional pain. But he refused to be physically aroused, that was crass beyond words. He could not do that to Scully. A tear rolled unbidden down his cheek for what he could never know, but he willed her to be happy. Mulder took control of himself now. He had absolutely no fear that she would leave him for Dale, that was never an issue. But it was like Christmas in this castle. He could gift this to her simply by not interfering. Mulder backed further into the shadows, not risking the stairs until Scully and Dale made their inevitable exit. Her soft moan again...but then it stopped. He heard them whispering. Mulder could not make out the words, didn't want to, but he knew he would not have long to wait. He just hoped Scully wouldn't indulge in a fit of guilt for falling into Dale's bed five minutes after they'd met. She'd taken it out on him with a month of stony silences after Ed Jerse. This time Mulder would suppress his confusion, he would feel no resentment. He would be her friend, as always, and as a friend, he would encourage this and take pleasure in her joys. Scully reveled in the soft warmth of Dale's kiss. God it had been so long...and remember what happened last time? No, don't remember that, just feel this, experience this here and now. His kiss was seductive in that she knew she could break it at any time without embarrassment. He encircled her with his arms, firmly but in a way that allowed her to escape, if that's what she wanted. He held her like Mulder held her, easily, comfortably. Mulder had almost kissed her like this once, it seemed so very long ago...Mulder... Scully pulled back and he relaxed away from her, giving her room to move. Scully was grateful. "I....I'm sorry Dale but..." "Sh...my beautiful lady. I believe I have received far more than I deserve. Please don't feel uncomfortable." Scully smiled, this boy could charm the spots off a leopard. But the warmth didn't leave her, nor did the smile. "I really have to get some work done tonight..." "And so you shall, of course. Let me walk you around the back way, I promise I shall be a gentleman but I would very much like you to see the battlements at night, especially this night, Christmas Eve and I shall tell you a legend from long ago..." Mulder heard the last few words. Slightly stunned at the interchange, the reprieve, he moved quickly to the hall closet and felt for the previously forgotten computer discs in his coat pocket, then took the stairs two at a time, anxious to be in their rooms before Scully arrived. Mulder did not look up from the computer as Scully opened the door a few minutes later. Her hair was somewhat disheveled and her face flushed. She just wanted to get to the bathroom before Mulder noticed. "Hey Scully, you should take a look at this..." Mulder glanced at her through his reading glasses and she saw him do a double take. She managed to escape into the bedroom before he'd taken his glasses off. Mulder knew he had to play the game just right. She had to know she looked flustered and that he would notice. "Just a sec Mulder, I need to freshen up." "One too many eggnogs, eh?" he called after her. Scully pulled her sweater over head and deposited it on the bed as she made her way to the shared bathroom. God why did she have to have such fair skin? How long would it take for that flush to disappear? It had been cold enough outside but the flush still remained. She splashed icy water on to her face until it took her breath away, then ran a comb through her hair and capped it with hairspray. How long could she stall? What did it matter? What was it to Mulder, anyway? So what if he made some wisecrack remark about drinking too much. Scully sternly gathered her professional walls around her and returned to the sitting room, idly noting that the beautiful gray Burmese cat was still curled up on her bed. Mulder had his feet on the computer table, wiping his reading glasses and chewing a pen. She'd never seen him do that before. Where were his sunflower seeds? Wasn't pen chewing a nervous habit? Don't tell me Mulder was developing nerves all of a sudden. "Ever heard of Lochabee?" He asked around the pen without looking at her. "Isn't that the nuclear power plant that's been having problems with waste disposal?" Scully came around behind her partner, wanting to keep out of his direct line of sight until her cheeks paled. She peered over his shoulder at the computer screen. "That's the one. I've got a theory, you wanna hear it?" "Don't tell me. This is the one where aliens have been abducting Loch Ness monsters and innocent people, experimenting on them and when the tests go wrong, dumping them around here. But something in the environment, radioactive contamination from Lochabee, causes them to degrade rapidly and give false readings on the carbon dating." Mulder's jaw dropped and the pen fell out of his mouth. He swung his feet onto the floor, swiveled his chair around and looked at his partner in feigned amazement. "Scully, marry me." To her absolute horror the blush stormed back into her cheeks. "Mulder, gimme a break, it's Christmas and I've had a really pleasant evening amidst very normal people who neither believe in Loch Ness monsters, nor aliens. Can we just drop the fantastic for once and concentrate on the facts?" Mulder sighed, choosing to ignore her blush "Okay, but that's my last proposal, you'll never get another chance. All right lets look at the facts, exactly what do we know?" Scully was surprised but grateful that he'd backed off so easily. They spent the next three hours sorting through facts and figures, going over the carbon 14 and comparative DNA tests. They had come no closer to unraveling the mystery, but they had caught up on a great deal of background information. A large clock struck two thirty and Scully yawned "Mulder, I'm going to bed. I'm starting to lose my train of thought." Scully got up and patted his arm as she walked by. "Yeah, you better go before Santa arrives, you know he won't leave any presents in your stocking unless you're asleep." Scully smiled "I didn't hang a stocking." "Still, you wouldn't want to risk ticking off Santa." Scully just motioned a goodnight. She was already in bed before she realised she's forgotten to close her door again. =A0 CHAPTER 10 LOCHMEADE VILLAGE NORTHERN ENGLAND 0330 CHRISTMAS DAY Something was standing over her, watching her. Scully's heart pounded and adrenaline pumped madly through her veins. Had she remembered to leave her gun on the bedside table? Her head felt muzzy from the alcohol, but she mentally located it then lunged behind her with her right hand, grabbing the butt and swinging it around in a fluid motion. A powerful hand seized her right wrist and someone dived across her body, knocking the wind out of her. She almost squeezed the trigger, not that it would have mattered, the safety was on. Scully punched out with her left fist in the direction of the intruder's face and felt a satisfactory jolt of pain in her arm as she made contact. "Jesus, Scully, waddya doing?" "Mulder?" "Ahh!" she heard him wince and saw the shape of his hand come to his face. He let go of her wrist and pulled himself off her. "Mulder what the hell are you doing in here?" She whispered loudly, angry as the adrenaline rush faded. He didn't answer for a moment, shocked that she'd reacted so swiftly, so violently. Shocked that she'd almost decked him in complete silence, never once crying for help. Scully, his partner, lady Rambo. "I thought you were...I don't know what I thought." Her voice sharpened but dropped to a dangerously low level "Mulder, what were you doing standing over me?" "I was about to wake you up." "Why?" "C'mon, you gotta see this." Mulder found her hand and pulled her from the bed. She was still angry but didn't resist. He guided her from the bedroom to the sitting room. There was more light here from the fire, but it was low, not enough to destroy her night vision. He opened the thick curtain and the French doors. The sub zero chill of night air clutched her body and she wanted to go back for her robe, but Mulder kept her hand. "Look!" Frowning in annoyance, but alert from the adrenaline rush, Scully looked up in the direction he was pointing. The night sky was absolutely black, blending into the horizon. The only lights came from parts of the castle grounds, but they were beside and behind them, for their suite was located on an outside wall. Snow was falling lightly. It would be a white Christmas thought Scully. Then she saw them and frowned. "You see it?" What she could see of Mulder's face looked like a twelve year old kid under a Christmas tree. Scully looked back at the sky and frowned in concentration. A red light followed by a stream of white lights moved across the sky. The lights dipped and disappeared. Scully rocked her head to one side, the freezing night air forgotten. "What was that?" "Just wait, it'll come back." As Mulder spoke she was aware that he still held her hand. She was about to release his grasp when the lights reappeared, veering up at an impossible angle then bounding across the sky again in the reverse direction. It happened twice more during the next few minutes. Suddenly they disappeared vertically into the clouds, at a speed that almost cracked their necks trying to follow. Scully's mouth was still gaping when her partner whispered into her ear "Do you believe in Santa Claus, Scully?" Scully pulled away from him, suddenly aware of how close they were. Why did he have to stand on top of her all the time? It normally never bothered her but for some reason it did just then. Yet as she moved, she realised how much body heat he had been giving off. Scully looked once more into the night sky then went back inside to the relative warmth of the dying fire. She idly noticed the Burmese cat now curled up on one of the fireside chairs. He'd probably been spooked when Mulder woke her. "Mulder, what was that?" "Best guess? Well, given all the evidence at hand, the season and configuration of the planets, the one hundred percent cloud cover and lack of aural output from the craft, the displacement pattern of the lights and the differing spectral image of the lead light, my best guess is Rudolph's leading the team again this year." Scully couldn't help it, she burst out laughing. But turning from the fire she gasped when she saw his grinning face in full. "Oh Mulder, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hit you that hard! Mulder put his hand up to his face and felt the frozen blood. Then looked down at his sweater and saw the large blood stain. Scalp wounds, he thought, jeez. Scully went back into the bedroom and returned a few moments later with her medical kit. She made him sit by the fire and turned on an upright lamp. "Y'know your problem Scully? You're having withdrawal symptoms, it's been at least three months since you've had to patch me up." "Well if you hadn't been leering at me in my sleep..." "I'd never leer at you while you were asleep, Scully, no fun in that...owe!" "Don't move, it needs a butterfly." "That's gonna look good in the morning." "At least it won't bruise." Despite his pain, her smell and warmth, the gentle touch of her hands brought on a familiar stirring in his lower body. He crossed his legs to hide the evidence, shifting his hips slightly as he did. "Mulder, stop fidgeting. So tell me, what do you really think it was?" Mulder winced as Scully cleaned the cut over his eyebrow. God he was a sick bastard, he thought bemusedly, how could her inflicting pain be such a turn on? "There is a RAAF squadron based near here but I bet you ten to one they find another body dump." Scully just looked at her partner and frowned. CHAPTER 11 LOCMEADE CASTLE NORTHERN ENGLAND DAWN CHRISTMAS DAY 1999 They were woken by the sounds of screaming laughter. Although it was still dark outside, Scully opened the French doors to see James and Terrence running around the far corner, towing sleds behind them. Christmas morning with kids. Scully smiled fondly as the children kept right on running around the far corner. She thought she could hear a voice calling them. Mulder entered the sitting room and her professional eye went straight to the butterfly bandage. "How's the head?" He waved his hand in dismissal. The unchecked bleeding had prevented it from bruising and the freezing midnight air had taken care of the rest. He really didn't blame Scully for lashing out like that. They'd both been through far too much, suffered too many nightmares not to sleep with a gun in one hand and an eye open at all times. But it disturbed him and brought memories back of nights he'd lashed out at Diana, thinking she was one of them.... They followed the trail of delighted laughter coming from the living room. Scully noticed the cat follow them out of the room, but it disappeared before descending the stairs. She grinned and hugged herself as she took in the Christmas scene. It looked like a magical page from a Dicken's novel. The tree was dimly lit and candles flickered about the room. Wrapping paper lay everywhere and three or four of the eight children were busy carpeting the floor with yet more packaging. Squeals of laughter came from other rooms and a maid move about with mugs of hot chocolate. Dale looked up from the children and smiled broadly at Scully, "Merry Christmas beautiful lady," he leaned across and kissed her diplomatically on her cheek. "And Merry Christmas to..." he frowned as he spied Mulder "Whatever happened to your eye?" "Mm," Mulder touched his face and winced theatrically "Scully attacked me in the middle of the night. She does that sort of thing occasionally." He said it in such a deadpan face that Dale looked twice, at both of them. Scully's face reflected absolutely...nothing. Dale frowned in confusion. A cryptic Mulder was one thing, but it did not bear thinking about in the beautiful Dana. He turned away and Scully shot Mulder a 'I will definitely get you for that later' look. He grinned knowingly "'S the truth." "Thanks for the super present Mr. Mulder an Miss Scully! What happened to you face Mr. Mulder?" James asked as he came scooting into the room, pulling off his mittens. Scully rolled here eyes and wondered how many times someone would ask. She was so accustomed to seeing Mulder's face banged up, the tiny white butterfly bandage on his eyebrow seemed relatively inconsequential. "Don't ask impolite questions, James." His mother commented, but there was a definite look of confused curiosity in Helen's eyes. English sensibilities soon took over and no one bothered with the question again, but Scully caught Dale occasionally glancing at her with an odd expression. "What present?" Scully whispered to her partner. "I escaped last night with Helen and bought the kids gifts from us." Scully was dumbfounded. Mulder was one of the most selfish and arrogant, yet kind hearted and altruistic contradictions she had ever known. She put her hand on his arm and went to speak, but Forrester began clapping for attention. "Now, everyone! " Dale called them all together in a loud voice. The family ritual was about to begin. Mulder sat down in one of the lounges and beckoned Scully to sit with him. As the other chairs were either on the far side of the tree, or strewn with discarded packaging and assorted toys or family members, Scully sat beside her partner. Mulder relaxed into the corner of the lounge, his arm across the back of the seat Scully nestled against. He glanced at her and smiled fondly. Scully was enjoying this, big time. He failed to notice Dale's eyes on him as he watched his partner. "Santa has been generous this year. For the benefit of Dana, I shall explain our Christmas ritual. Every year the children are each allowed to open two presents when they awake." To Scully's investigative eye it looked like fifty had been ransacked. "After that, they must content themselves with playing quietly," this elicited a round of chuckles from the adults "Until the rest of the family are awake. As that's about two minutes later," more chuckles "I, as the head of the family, pass out the presents. Most importantly," he smiled at Dana "Tradition requires that everyone in the household receive a gift. "Now, there is no rhyme or reason to this, so patience is required." Dale turned to pick out the nearest present and read the card. There seemed to be hundreds of packages, large and small, around the tree. The servants passed more hot chocolate, tea and warm fruit buns to everyone. A small part of Scully felt guilty for being there when she should be checking out an idea she had for rapid putrefaction. Instead she basked in the closeness of the loving family atmosphere. "Ah ha! I don't know how the blighter managed to escape Santa's bad books, but there's one here for Fox Mulder." Dale handed Mulder the package. "Merry Christmas, old man!" he said with twinkle in his eye. Mulder grinned lopsidedly and checked the tag. Scully looked at him questioningly and Mulder motioned that the gift was from Dale. "This better not be my 'Abnormal Psychology' finally returned to me." He muttered with a grin. Scully watched curiously as Mulder opened the packaging. It was a first edition hardback copy, in almost mint condition, of H.G. Wells War of the Worlds. Mulder was flabbergasted. How had Dale managed to secure such a find? He looked at his friend and smiled his thanks. Scully saw something that moved her heart. These men loved each other. She had never seen this side of Mulder before and she wished that Dale lived a little closer. There were times when Mulder needed the friendship of another man. Before she could ponder that subject further, Dale said "And of course Santa would never miss the beautiful Dana." He handed her a large, beribboned box. Scully stood to collect it and saw that the card was from the Forrester family. She flushed, unsure what to say, "Please don't be embarrassed Dana, everyone must have a gift from our tree, castle rules." Mulder looked on, smiling indulgently as she opened the box. Inside was a stunning woolen jumper. Large and fluffy, it would reach down to her thighs, just the way she liked them. The pattern looked familiar and Helen, Dale's twin sister, spoke over Dale's ongoing Santa Claus act. "It's Forrester family tartan." Scully looked confused then read the label. The sheep's wool signature with a Forrester label had a small caption that explained the wool had been grown on Forrester estates. Scully was delighted with he gift and rubbed the soft wool against her cheek. "Most people outside of Britain think that only the Scots and Irish wear family tartan, but many English families do as well." Helen explained with a smile. It had been a simple gesture but she loved that he had chosen so well. If this was what it felt like to be charmed, Scully could learn to like it. Beside her, she could feel Mulder getting restless. He was probably anxious to check his email, hoping the Lone Gunmen had found something on Lochabee. He was chewing on his bottom lip and his crossed leg twitched. He should have had a morning run, she thought, but her idle thoughts were interrupted when Dale called her name again. "Ah, I see Santa has been generous to you this year. Could this be small gift from your partner?" he asked as he read the card "Methinks it is." And he reached across and handed Scully a tiny box. Scully looked up at Dale, then across at Mulder whose foot was twitching just a bit more. He raised his eyebrows and Scully didn't know what to think. This was very unMulderish. But she also breathed a sigh of relief because she had hidden a present amongst the others for Mulder. Now she didn't feel so bad. Suddenly Dale cried "Oh, ho! A gift for moi! Thank you old chap!" He inclined his head to Mulder. Everyone was preoccupied with presents and Scully felt for a moment that there were only the three of them in the room. Mulder watched his partner open hers and the expression on her face clutched his heart. It seemed to be one of infinite sadness and he could almost see tears in her eyes. But as she looked up, he realised it was just a trick of the light. The sun was up and the candles burned low, giving false shadows. The servants moved almost invisibly about the room, making some headway into discarded paper and ribbons, extinguishing candles and collecting teacups and chocolate mugs. Mulder heard and saw all of this with almost painful clarity, wondering if he had done the wrong thing. "Mulder, their beautiful, how did you know?" "Lunching at Gabby's, Agent Dana Scully would stare through the jeweler's window thinking very unscientific telekinetic thoughts. How could I not know?" The simple sapphires earrings in their elegant red gold stud setting had moved her almost to tears. She smiled and said a soft, thank you, then leaned across to kiss him on the cheek, but somehow their movements became confused and she ended up kissing the corner of his mouth. As her lips gently brushed his and she felt the roughness of his unshaven face against the softness of his lips, a warmth spread from her heart across her chest and out to her fingertips. She swallowed hard then consciously looked across at Dale, who had by now opened his gift. "Mulder old chap, how on earth did you secure this? Theft, my boy, is a major offense for an FBI agent." Scully's eyebrows raised as she stared at the glass case. Inside was a large chunk of moon rock. This was no legally obtainable stone from the nearest NASA outlet, but a large unusually colored distinctive piece. Mulder looked very catlike, so much so that Scully peered closely to locate the feathers around his lips. "I have friends in high places." He replied ambiguously. "Look boys, " Dale shouted to the older children, most of who were running races with radio controlled vehicles of gaudy shapes and colors. "Fox and Dana have given me a moon rock!" Scully was grateful that he had gifted it from both of them. Mulder had obviously remembered the family ceremony and realised Scully would have been embarrassed otherwise. She smiled her gratitude to him. Dale found himself surrounded in no time. The children decided their Uncle's visitors to be a great talking point, especially when discussing the chances of them having real live guns. They'd stayed up late into the night fabricating stories about the two FBI agents, how many people they had shot and what they were really doing at the Castle, little realising their seemingly outlandish tales paled to reality. This Christmas morning even the children of the British aristocracy couldn't help from using the word 'cool' a half dozen times as they touched the glass case reverently. "Can we touch it for real, Uncle Dale?" Scott, one of the younger ones begged. "Please Uncle Dale can we touch a piece of the moon?" cried Maggie, Helen's daughter. Dale laughingly obliged and flipped the catch on the lid of the glass case. The children were told by their parents to sit quietly, pass the rock around gently and to make sure it got back to their uncle in one piece, or they would all miss Christmas dinner! Mulder watched the exchange good naturedly, stealing a glance at Scully every now and then, gratified as she constantly rubbed her fingers across the sapphire earrings. They matched her eyes and hair perfectly and were small and simple enough to wear to work without her feeling overdressed. But to Scully they were as precious as the simple cross her mother had given her years before. Oddly enough, she realised, it was the first time a man had ever given her a gift of jewelry. Unbeknownst to them both, Dale watched the exchange and a slight look of regret, followed by a warm smile passed over his features. The lovely Dana was not for him. "And the Fox receives yet another gift. If you keep this up old boy, I'll start to think you might actually be popular." He indicated the gift was from Scully. Mulder opened his small package and was delighted to find an elegant, slim Rolex watch. He'd lost his previous one, after years surviving one misadventure after another, in the pool. He hadn't noticed the band had broken until he got out of the water. By that time, a dozen other swimmers had been in and out, the watch along with them. So much for honesty amongst FBI agents, he'd grumbled and bought a replacement from a nickel and dime store. Scully knew Mulder missed his Rolex. He leaned across to kiss Scully thank you, fairly certain he could risk kissing her lips, just for a second, when Hubert touched him on the shoulder. "I'm sorry Sir, but Sergeant Bronin as at the door, asking for you." "Thanks Jeeves." Mulder absently slipped the watch onto his wrist, all thoughts of Christmas instantly evaporating as he excused himself and followed Hubert to the door. Scully also abandoned the warmth of the family gathering and followed Mulder. She put his gift in her pocket and wrapped the woolen jumper across her shoulders. The strange, almost surrealistic Christmas spell was broken and suddenly, the air felt a lot chillier. The sergeant waited with his cap under his arm in the large foyer, sipping from a large mug of steaming chocolate. He kept his overcoat on, a light smattering of snow on his shoulders indicative of the weather. "Sergeant Bronin, my partner Dana Scully." Bronin gave a slight half bow as if to tip his hat, in what Scully could only think of as a singularly British gesture. "Begging your pardon Ma'am. I'm sorry to get you out on Christmas morning, but there's been another one." End part 3 Part 4/7 CHAPTER 12 LOCHMEADE CASTLE NORTHERN ENGLAND CHRISTMAS DAY 1999 Mulder turned to share a look with his partner. Why couldn't he be wrong just once? At least at Christmas? "Give us five minutes will you sergeant?" The policeman nodded, gratefully sipping his chocolate. Dale followed them and after speaking to Hubert turned to Mulder and said "I'm getting the pilot to warm up the machine. I'll follow in a little while, just get the rest of presents out of the way." Before Mulder could reply Dale had turned back into the family room. Minutes later Scully and Mulder returned from their rooms clothed in dark ski pants. Scully smiled absently as James, Terrence and young Scott raced their cars through the halls. Dale came out to join them. "There's no point ruining your Christmas over this." Mulder said. "If it's the same as the last one there's really no point in you coming." Dale looked torn until Scully added "We'll probably be back by lunch but if not, save me some of that plum pudding?" Dale smiled and nodded. =A0 "My God, there must be hundreds of them!" Bronin spoke aloud, but headphones muffled everyone's ears. Scully frowned as the helicopter descended. She'd be doing a great many autopsies that afternoon. Other helicopters arrived in short order. Within the hour a half dozen machines and four wheel drive vehicles were scattered across the clearing. Men in bright yellow jackets planted small flags as they walked the field, hand held radios chattering back and forth. It vaguely reminded her of a plane crash site, except there were no smoking remains, no emergency crews, no ambulances, no smell of charred flesh and rubber. All the bodies were in one piece, although some had twisted limbs as if they had been dumped from height. More like Jonestown sprinkled with snow, Scully thought. "Hey, over here, quick!" someone shouted. Those nearby made there way to the gesticulating man, Mulder arriving just before Scully. Most of the other bodies were in shadow, but the weak sun had penetrated the cloud cover and shone limply over this area of the field. "Oh my God! What's happening?" cried a middle aged woman, one of the forensic team helicoptered up from London. With sudden insight Mulder cried, "Back off, back off quickly, the fumes may be toxic!" The woman ignored him and reached to touch the corpse, but she cried out and threw her arms to her face. "Back off!" Mulder screamed at her, pushing at those around him to get to her. Scully and another yellow jacket reached the now screaming woman as she clutched at her face. Mulder looked worriedly at his partner, not wanting her to get close. By then everyone had backed away, torn between watching the pathologist claw at her face and the gruesome sight of the body at their feet. Startled cries filled the air as other bodies began to decay before their eyes, a green, bubbling froth visible from the exposed skin. "Everyone, get to the edge of the field! Keep well away from any of the bodies! Now one has started, it might set of a chain reaction!" Mulder shouted as he helped Scully and yellow jacket with the woman mewling in pain. Mulder picked the pathologist up and threw her over his shoulder fireman style and almost ran to the edge of the forest. He could never recall the fumes of dead aliens being toxic before. Live ones yes, but once they were dead, the green sludge seemed to breakdown the tissue without ill effects to bystanders. But not this time....why? What was different? He looked up to notice that most of the yellow jackets were already at a safe distance. Mulder lowered the woman to the ground, allowing Scully to administer to her as best she could. He knew exactly what the pathologist was going through. It might have been five years, but he recalled the pain. An hour later, it was all over. Mulder found himself the center of angry and confused attention "Well Agent Mulder, you obviously know what's going on here, so don't be shy about it, what in bloody hell happened to those bodies?" Bronin glared at him. Inspector Walters had just arrived by helicopter. He had not seen the rapid decay of what he understood were well over three hundred men and women. But he could feel the shock that pervaded the atmosphere. The only evidence remaining were ugly pockmarks in the snow. "Y'know, I think Simmons was right," Mulder glanced at his partner "Someone is dumping their garbage." The pathologist was helicoptered to the nearest hospital, with instructions from Scully for treating her chemical burns and possible viral infection. Despite exclamations and warnings from those around, Scully went back into the field, trying to find some remnant of evidence. Mulder said nothing, he knew Scully was longer in danger. He was also sure she would find nothing more than scorched grass and fragments of material burned with a corrosive substance that nobody had ever been able to satisfactorily identify. "Agent Mulder? An explanation is in order, don't you think?" Walters asked as they made their way to the helicopter. "I don't think you'd like any explanation I might give, Inspector." "Try me." Mulder stopped and turned to face the Scotland Yard detective. He glanced across at the field where yellow jackets tentatively began to walk. His partner picked her way with less care. Knowing the search was fruitless, Scully nonetheless demanded something substantial to work with, unwilling to settle for empirical evidence. Even when supported by the eyes of a dozen or more strangers wandering in mute testament to what they had witnessed, Scully refused what she had seen without something she could touch with her hands. Sometimes her pedantic need for proof seemed far more irrational to Mulder than his wildest theories. "We really have no idea how many they experimented on. Logic tells us it must have been thousands, for what is that small price when all were destined to die anyway? I can give you no answers you wish to hear, inspector, except that something is cleaning house and this loch, for reasons I doubt we will ever comprehend, is the refuse bin." A War, Krycek had said, a war between the Gods, thundering across the heavens, uncaring of mere mortals who may get in the way. Scully joined the two men by the helicopter and Mulder continued, reasoning more to her than the Inspector "I'm not sure why they're bothering, except perhaps it's easier to spring clean before you move in, rather than after." "Mulder they are dead, all dead, you saw for yourself what happened at El Rico." "I saw what they wanted us to see." He said more forcefully "You saw what you wanted to see, one small part of a worldwide cartel destroyed. You accept that as closure to what happened to you but I do not!" "Mulder," Scully looked into his eyes, worried at his growing anger, the warmth of the morning's Christmas fantasy long since lost into their unique reality of pain and bitterness "I understand you cannot accept it as finished until we find Samantha." The soft tone of her voice, the mention of his sister, that she had used the term 'we' broke into his pain. Walters looked at the two Americans, wondering at their relationship, at what they were talking about. He recognised a man driven by personal demons, but that did not explain what was going on. He turned to Scully "Can you explain what happened here?" "I can tell you what happened, but I cannot give you an explanation. Inspector, we've seen this sort of toxic, corrosive agent at work before. It completely degrades organic material within minutes. I can only guess that it was precipitated in this instance by an increase in temperature as the sun came into contact with the first body. We have witnessed a delay to the onset of the decomposition due to extreme cold. It normally...." she stopped herself wondering when the term 'normal' had entered her mental classification system "Decomposition of this nature generally occurs immediately after death." "So is that what happened to the other bodies?" "No, no their skeletal structure remained. Nothing..." and she gestured across the clearing "Remains here." "So you're saying it's an unrelated event." "No Inspector," Mulder said as he bent to enter the helicopter "It just means Scully won't have to perform any autopsies today." Walters was becoming increasingly angry at Mulder's crypticism. "You still have not told me who did this. Do you have a suspect?" "It's not a who, Inspector, they are a what." Mulder sighed, his voice sounding as tired as his helpless soul, thought Scully " And they know no bounds on this planet and by all account on any other planet. They will never be brought to justice, however there is a secondary element to this that requires exploration. Hop in Scully, we've got a boat to catch." Inspector Walters looked disgusted. 'Knows no bounds on this or any other planet.' The man was a bloody crackpot. But this thought could not suppress a frisson of fear arcing up his spine as he looked at the green sludge in the shapes of men burned into the snow around him. "Bloody yanks." Bronin muttered under his breath. "Not exactly forthcoming, was he?" a yellow jacketed man replied sympathetically to the sergeant. "He knows somethin's going on, but I'm buggered if I can see how a radiation check will help any. "What do you mean, radiation? Yellow jacket asked, trying to keep his voice indifferent. "Blowed if I know, he's asked that bone doctor to check all the areas for radiation. He seems to think it has something to do with it. Can't see it myself, just look at what happened today? It's not bloody radiation that did that." And he gestured across the clearing. "So, you going to do as the yank wants?" "I don't have that much bloody choice, but I've told Simmons to hang off a bit. There's a low pressure system coming across, we'll be in for some bad weather tonight. By the time that passes and New Year has come and gone, Scotland Yard may have come up with something and we can turf these buggers back across the Atlantic." The yellow jacketed man nodded in mute agreement and left. CHAPTER 13 LOCHMEADE CASTLE CHRISTMAS DAY =A0 "Please explain to me why we are going boating?" Scully asked her partner as they walked across the helipad at Lochmeade Castle. Mulder had already made prior arrangements with Dale to borrow his launch for some close exploring of the myriad crenulations of the loch. But first Mulder wanted to collect the maps and data he'd downloaded the previous night from the Internet. Mulder grinned "Nessie hunting? I'll play Ahab again, if you want." "Mulder, I have no intention of spending another freezing night with you at the edge of a swamp." "Ah, c'mon Scully, these little outings are great team building opportunities." As Scully gave him a meaningful glare, she failed to see a protruding rock under the snow. The edge of her heel caught and she stumbled. Her hand instinctively reached out to break her fall and Mulder twisted to brace her. He missed by a fraction and Scully ended up with her hand in his crotch, pushing them both off balance until they ended up on the ground. Unbeknownst to Scully, her hand still rested on Mulder's groin as she pushed down hard in order to stand. "Jesus Scully!" Mulder's face registered shock and not a little pain. Scully snatched her hand away and reddening, mumbled an apology. It had barely registered on her that half the occupants were playing at the front of the castle. The children were forbidden from going onto the helicopter landing pad, but it had not stopped them from running to meet there new heroes once the agents were clear of the field. "At least wait till we're inside first, what will the children think?" Mulder squeaked in pain. But it was almost worth it, seeing her blush like that. The children surrounded them, laughing and trying to help them to their feet. Suddenly the group fell silent as they spied both Mulder and Scully's weapons, exposed where their coats had opened during the fall. In the momentary silence that followed this fascinating revelation to the children Scully mumbled "Promises, promises." Sometimes, rarely, Scully could stop him dead in his tracks. He just wished he didn't have to resume his pace with a slight limp. They briefly related to Forrester the events of the morning. Although Dale wanted them to stay for the formal Christmas lunch, once Mulder learned the weather would likely turn nasty for days to come, he was anxious to keep moving. They bundled charts and photos in a bag and helicoptered to the outskirts of the village where Dale kept his launch. Scully watched the helicopter depart and commented on the lack of activity around the wharf. Even the lock keepers seemed to be absent. "Christmas Day, Scully! No-one moves in this country, they're all at home around the fireplace, feasting on honey ham and Yorkshire pud." "Mm, " Scully replied, "Well at least we have a picnic." And she motioned to a basket the butler had packed in the helicopter. The pilot told her it contained a 'little Christmas something' from the dining table. "So, do you know how to drive this thing Mulder? I don't want to sink another boat." Scully called out as she took the basket and her bag into the galley below. "That will do very nicely, Miss Scully." A cockney voice made her turn swiftly, reaching for her weapon as she swung, but her thick jumper hindered her draw and the world blackened. Mulder was having his own problems. Before he could register more than a yellow jacket, he'd been tackled to the deck of the wheel house. Mulder was not overly muscular, but it took two of them to hold him down. "Scully! Scully?" he cried out in warning. "Too late mate, we've already taken care of yer pretty little missus." Anger and terror galvanised Mulder and he threw off his assailants with titanic force. He crashed through into the galley "Scully!" but was stopped dead by the sight of a woman with a pistol held firmly at the base of his partner's neck. "Whoa there me good lad!" said a voice behind him "Don't won't me ta blow the little missus head orf do ya? Now why don't you just back on out of there like a good chap. We'll just take her to a nice, safe place and then you and I can go for a little boat ride. We just want to have a chat, that's all." Mulder looked in despair at the drops of blood on the wooden decking. His voice cracked with emotion "If you've killed her...." "Nah. She'll be fine! Just a wee headache when she wakes up. Okay, lads go dump her and we'll be orf." Mulder watched helplessly as one of the men picked Scully up by the ankles and began dragging her from the cabin. Incensed by their cavalier treatment of her unconscious body, he itched to reach the spare gun strapped to his leg. One of the men motioned him to follow Scully but as Mulder walked by, someone cold cocked him. "Now waddya goin' do that for? Ya could haf killed him!" Yellow jacket whined "Nah, he's type don't kill easy, but they do cause problems." The woman replied. "It's too risky dumping them in the loch near here. Take the boat to the far end and lose 'em." Added an older man. Yellow jacket frowned. "I though we wus just gonna ask him, friendly like, about..." The older man looked at yellow jacket with cold eyes "Look, you said he ordered radiation tests. We can fix it our end to make sure those tests are not done on the bodies, but we need to dispose of mister yank copper and his missus if the idea is to be squashed entirely. And with this blizzard coming, I can't think of a better way. Just dump 'im in the woods at the far end of the Loch, and then dump 'er overboard somewhere deep. Don't kill them or bang them up any more than you hafta, if they're found later on, it hasta look like natural like. It'll be dusk by the time you get there and that's the end o' that. I'm not paid to pussy foot around, ya know, and neither are you." "Yeah, but killin' coppers ain't smart." "Who says we're killing 'em? The weather will do it for us. Now let's get going. Stevie, Mac and I will take the van down to Patrick's landing. You and Nancy take the boat and dump them at Spire's Point. It's a good seven mile hike in any direction to the nearest shelter. Then get the boat to Patrick's. We'll cast it adrift. It will be two or three days before anyone's gonna be able to go lookin' for it with this weather settin' in and afterwards, no-one's gonna bother with radiation tests, especially wif wot happened this morning." Yellow jacket frowned, but he'd disposed of people before in a similar manner. The coming storm was tailor made for the job. "Righto." His face brightened as he spotted the picnic basket "And look, the little missus even brought us Christmas lunch!" Scully woke with a pounding headache. Nope, pounding was not the word, more like agonising shafts of white pain jack hammering through her skull. It took her a few moments to realise her hands and feet were bound and something slimy and disgusting was jammed into her mouth, adding to her growing nausea. She sat still, her eyes closed, until she could adjust to the pain in her head. She also felt cold and realised her jacket and jumper had been removed. Fortunately her ski suit was a bib and brace type. The shirt underneath was thin, but her chest and back were not as cold as they might have been. "So yer awake luv?" a woman's voice asked casually "Wot a pity, if you'd stayed under you would haf just drifted off to sleep like, none the wiser." Scully tried to sit, but the pain and her bindings made it difficult. She slowly swiveled her head to look to the voice, then blinked in surprise. The woman was holding Scully's jumper. Following the direction of Scully's eyes the woman said "I rather fancied it and since you ain't gonna be needing it, well, wot's the harm, I thought." The woman stood and looked out of a porthole "We're there." Mulder had no idea of the passage of time, but he opened his eyes and tried to gauge how much light was left in the sky. It seemed to be darker... but then a blinding light flooded the world. "Wot the bloody hell...?" his yellow jacketed captor let out a high pitched scream. Mulder couldn't see properly in the glare of the light, but he suddenly found himself lifted by a powerful force. Whatever had grabbed him took him clear off his feet and turned him around. Mulder flinched when he recognised the face of the alien bounty hunter. "What the...?" But Mulder was dropped like a discarded rag doll. He blacked out for a few moments then yellow jacket was kicking him in the ribs. Mulder staggered to his feet, with no memory of the previous nine minutes. "C'mon, get up, we're goin' for a little walk, you and I." "Where's Scully?" "You mean ya little missus? Don't you worry, she's bein' stored somewhere nice and safe. You don't give me no trouble matey and she'll be just fine." Yellow jacket had long learned the art of pacifying captors was to let them live in hope. Desperate men made desperate and some times dangerous moves. It wouldn't hurt to let the poor blighter think that his pretty little partner was safe and sound. "What do you want from her, what do you want from me?" "You bin pokin' your nose in places you shouldn't. The guv'nor don't like that so you and me are gonna take a little walk in the forest." Mulder knew it would be a one way walk. His legs had been hobbled but he searched the cabin for some sort of weapon. Then his is eyes hit on the gas tap at the base of the galley sink. He might be killed but he'd damn well make certain his killers paid. He kicked at the gas tap then, pretending to stumble, grabbed one of the knobs on the stove, twisting it on as he regained his balance. Yellow jacket ordered him to quite fooling around and get a move on. Mulder's captor shoved him roughly into a wooden tender and rowed them ashore. Mulder thought about throwing himself over the side, but one look at the sludgy ice on the loch was enough to change his mind. With bound wrists and hobbled legs the cold would probably kill him before he reached the shore. The light was fading and he looked up to see the gathering storm clouds. Snow was already falling and the wind was picking up. "What have you done with Scully?" "I told ya, you ain't got no worry over her s'long as you do as yer told wif me. I ain't goin to do yer in, I'm just dropping you of, like. Now how yer gonna survive is another story, but that ain't my problem." Mulder realised his captor's intention. With a storm brewing and night coming, the chances of survival were almost nil. But unbeknownst to yellow jacket, Mulder recognised this part of the Loch. He and Dale had hiked here in the summers, fishing from this very inlet. Mulder glanced around, yeah, that was it, over there on the far side. Dale had said he's finally got around to building a cabin...Mulder didn't like the chances of finding it in the growing darkness, but they were better than throwing himself into the freezing loch. The tender felt the bottom and yellow jacket ordered him out. Mulder refused to budge, he did not want to appear cooperative. "Well, you know as well as I do that I don't want to shoot you coz I want you found nice and frozen, natural causes, like. I figure you lost yer way and maybe bumped yer noggin, but bullet holes would be a bit suspicious. Still, if that's the way you want it, I'm not going to be fussy coz I can just as readily dump you in the loch. Not as convenient, like, because there'll be a longer search, but in a pinch..." He raised his gun and cocked it. Mulder grasped the side of the tender and with great difficulty eased his hobbled legs into the freezing water. "What about these?" Mulder motioned to his bindings, Yellow jacket grinned as he took up the oars. He paddled out a few strokes then pulled a small knife from his pocket and tossed it into the snow. Mulder's eyes followed it, but he would not give the man satisfaction of scrambling for it. Yellow jacket stood upright and, with a farewell grin, turned his back on Mulder and rowed in an unusual forward gate back to the launch. Yellow jacket's back turning gesture was not lost on Mulder. He eyed the place in the snow where the knife had fallen and quickly finding it, sliced through the bindings. His feet were freezing from the cold, but he stood, grimly watching yellow jacket tie the tender to the stern of the launch. When yellow jacket started the petrol engine, he would be in for a nasty surprise. But as his assailant entered the wheel house, Mulder's entire world turned upside down. The front hatch of the launch opened. Scully staggered out and headed towards the wheel house. Mulder screamed at the top of his lungs "Scullllyyy!" Too late. Yellow jacket had turned the ignition key and the launch disintegrated in a smoky fireball. Sculllyyyyy!!!" CHAPTER 14 LOCH MEADE CHRISTMAS DAY - NIGHTFALL The cold seeped into his already chilled body until the pain penetrated his bones. He'd known his chances of survival were slim but as the shock overwhelmed him, it simply didn't matter. Every instinct demanded that he swim to what still remained of the burning hull and find her. Every instinct in him refuted such a suicidal act. The temperature was well below freezing. Thin ice had already formed across much of the loch. He glanced up at the impending storm. The snow was starting to fall at an angle as the wind picked up. Mulder tried to stand, but the pain of her loss lanced into him like a spear and he stumbled, calling out her name in despair, racking his vocal chords raw. Nausea overcame him and he emptied his stomach until raw bile burned his already torn vocal chords. Tears streamed down his face, more from the violence of being ill than emotion. Those tears would have followed later but he would be dead by then. It simply didn't matter any more. It would have been so much better if she had never come into his life. Christ he would have long since been dead if Scully had not saved his butt a hundred times. And being dead was so much better than this form of pain. Scully was dead. He'd killed her. What sick son of a bitch came up with the 'better to have loved and lost' phrase? "Oh God!!!" Mulder howled in an agony of despair. His gun. His gun had been removed from his hip holster but they had been sloppy and missed the spare weapon at his ankle. God it would be so much better than this pain. But why give himself that release? He'd be dead soon enough. He deserved this pain before facing whatever other hell awaited him. He shook his head and looked around, willing the cold and dark to come and take his pain away, but something caught his eye. Something to the south. It could not be debris from the vessel, despite the increasing wind, it could not have blown that far so quickly. Mulder pulled his glove off and angrily pushed the tears from his blurred eyes with the ball of his hand. He blinked and looked again. Something was there. Something was there! Something on the beach. Mulder ran through the snowdrifts like a man running for his life. He was running for his life! Hope forced back the logic that it would only be an animal. But as he closed the gap he cried out in a voice broken with disbelief and relief, all in one. "Scully!" he cried repeatedly, begging for it to be her as he reached the prone form. How could she have gotten there? How long had she been there? It made no sense. She was on the boat, he'd seen her. Or had she? He had seen a red headed women wearing her jumper....The woman that had stood over Scully in the galley had red hair... He stripped his jacket as he reached her. Laying face down in the snow, her lower body partially immersed in the frigid water, he willed her to be alive. She must be alive! Her eyes were bruised and sunken, her face the color of chalk and her lips blue. Scully looked like any one of a hundred corpses he'd seen on autopsy tables. Terror arced through his body, almost paralysing him as he searched for a pulse at her throat. Oh Christ how many times could she been taken from him? How many times had this cruel joke been perpetrated? Was this it then, the final irony? She dies of cold while not a fifty meters away he throws his guts out and beats his breast and wallows in self fucking misery? Mulder thanked a God he'd never believed in as he felt a beat and then another and another. But, oh! So slow, so very slow, too slow! She was freezing! How long had she been in the water? How had she managed to swim that far and not succumb to the cold? He abused himself with a thousand curses for having lost control and wasting precious minutes. If he'd kept his head and looked sooner... Mulder pushed the thoughts aside. He took control now. There was no more time for bullshit self flagellation. He looked up at the angry clouds above. The oncoming blizzard would kill them both. Nothing mattered now but to find shelter and warmth. =A0 Mulder kneeled in the snow and pulled his partner's limp form in his arms, wrapping his jacket around her. She was so cold, so very very cold. He cradled her, about to pick her up when he stopped and looked to the trees. Dale would have built the cabin near their favorite fishing place. There had been no sign of habitation from the air, or the water. It made sense that he would have built back from the edge of the loch. But Mulder recalled Dale boasting that he could throw a line practically from the back window. Mulder glanced at his partner. Why was Scully here? Why not the other side of the lake? Why this particular spot? Mulder had no choice, he had to play a hunch, that somehow Scully's escape had been assisted and she had struck out in this direction for a reason. If she'd fallen in, or escaped unaided, natural instinct would have dictated she swim to the right, both because the distance to shore was far shorter and she was right handed. Scully must have headed this way for a reason. He lifted her, grunting under the weight of her water-saturated clothes and his own weakness and struck off into the trees. As the storm approached, the wind chill factor pushed the temperature lower by the second. A few paces into the trees brought a grateful, albeit limited protection from the increasing wind. But the trees also brought darkness. How much longer before the storm hit and night fell? He looked up into the forest, waiting for his eyes to adjust and almost cried out in relief as he spied the cabin, set on a knoll where they used to pitch tents. It was barely visible through the rapidly darkening forest. Mulder looked down at his partner, frightened by the color of her lips. She might have had a pulse, but was she still breathing? "C'mon Scully, were almost there. C'mon, don't quit now!" He half ran and half staggered to the cabin through flurries of snow. The windows were shuttered and the door closed. Mulder didn't know if he had the strength to break it down and prayed it was unlocked. Lightening suddenly struck in the distance and he automatically counted off the seconds as he staggered to the door. "Eight one thousand, nine one thousand..." the ground rumbled and built into a crescendo as he gently dropped his partner's feet onto the porch of the cabin. Mulder reached up and blinked in surprise at his gloveless right hand. He could not feel the latch as he touched it. He could not feel his hand at all. The landscape was suddenly thrown into stark contrast as lightening struck again. The snowfalls began to thicken, coming in at an angle. Looking over his shoulder at the treetops, Mulder could see the wind getting serious. He moved Scully to his right arm, praying he would not drop her and lifted the latch with his left hand. The door swung in gently. He scooped up his partner in his arms again and carried her inside, closing the door with his foot. Mulder glanced quickly around but it was hard to see in the dark. He looked again at Scully's face and fear arced through his stomach. Her lips and eyes seemed like black shadows in the dim light of the cabin. How long had she been immersed? How long? How many minutes since acute hypothermia had set in? How long had he stupidly delayed? How long before her system shut down entirely? Mulder had no answers so he searched for and found the door to the bathroom, almost running now in his need to get Scully warmed. But as he opened the door he wondered how in hell was he going to get water heated? His heart fell further when he realised there was no bathtub. Why would there be? Dale hated baths, he only ever showered. He spied a large white rectangular shape mounted by the window glanced at the wall and exclaimed "Yes!" He lowered Scully gently to the floor, stopping only long enough to make sure she still breathed. Pulling his now wet jersey over his head he dropped it to the floor and moved swiftly into the main cabin. His eyes narrowed in the gloom and he stumbled over a fixed ladder. Glancing upwards, he filed the information for later and made his way to a doorway across the room. Dale had driven him nuts with his anal retentive habits but Mulder almost forgave him when he found the kitchen and spotted the light colored porcelain pot near the stove. Reaching in with his left hand, he grinned as his fingers curled around the matches. He grabbed a lantern from the top of the icebox and returned to the bathroom. God he was so cold. Mulder shivered uncontrollably as he knelt beside his partner. He needed light, but match after match simply would not ignite when he used his left hand. Finally, Mulder concentrated on watching his right hand and willed it to grasp the match firmly. Two tries and he finally had it. Seconds later he raised the lamp, but almost dropped it as he saw Scully's staring eyes. "No!" He dropped to one knee, placed the lamp on the ground and felt for her pulse again. Slow, oh so slow! But was she breathing? He couldn't tell. He leaned over and placed his mouth over hers, tilting her neck back, wanting to feel the breath leave her body. But there was nothing - or was there? He breathed for her. "C'mon Scully, c'mon! We're almost there!" He breathed for her again a few times, willing her to wake and tell him it was a joke. Mulder's mind drifted as the cold began to take its toll. Forcing himself to concentrate he knew that nothing would help but to get her warm. He had to get the gas lit and the shower running. Getting her to breathe was not going to help if he couldn't restore her body heat. Mulder opened the gas valve and struck a match. But his right hand refused to obey until the fourth match flared. As he thrust it into the pilot hole he half expected to burn himself. But to his horror, nothing happened. The match fizzled and died. Almost crying out in frustration he realised the gas connection would have been turned off - from outside the cabin. "Shit!" Taking a quick look at Scully he breathed again for her four, five times then could only pray she was still alive. He dropped the matches on the floor beside her and picking up the lantern ran for the front door. Outside the wind cut through his wet shirt like a thousand razor blades. He gasped in agony and staggered. But he was not really hypothermic. Not yet. He was just unbelievably cold. He'd been cold before. He's almost died of cold before. This was completely different. Keep telling yourself that Mulder, he repeated over and over as he circled behind the cabin to where the gas bottles must be. He held the lantern high in his left hand and spotted the bottles braced to the cabin wall. Mulder reached out and grabbed the tap with his right hand to twist it. It didn't want to budge, then he realised he couldn't feel it. He tried to take a firmer grip then remembered too late that hand was next to useless. He went to change hands but his fingers seemed stuck to the valve. "Stupid! Stupid, stupid, stupid!" Mulder's thought processes were rapidly deteriorating, but he had the presence of mind to force his arm around, turning the gas on, before gritting his teeth and ripping his hand from the metal valve. He didn't dare look, knowing that a good part of his skin was still attached to the gas faucet. The only saving grace was that he was so cold, he felt no pain. There would be a price to pay later, but that mattered little. Mulder staggered back into the cabin, slamming and bolting the door behind him. He made his way to the bathroom, terrified of what he might find. Scully lay still, unmoving. He could not have been outside the cabin for more than a minute or so. He kneeled and breathed into her lungs again, five times. Her pulse was weak and thready. Wasn't she supposed to respond if she'd been breathing herself? He couldn't remember. Hell, he wasn't a doctor! "Okay, Scully, almost there." He stood and turned the gas faucet on again. Every ounce of his existence concentrated on lighting the match. He swallowed hard when it sparked first time, and thrust the burning filament into the pilot hole. "C'mon, c'mon!" It took a few seconds for the gas to work its way through the plumbing, but then it took. He cried out in relief as the lines of blue flames burst into being. Fire had never looked so good. Mulder reached into the shower and opened both faucets on full, then turned back to his partner. He squatted on the floor, breathing for her again and lifted Scully against his legs, leaving his coat in a puddle on the floor. All she had was a thin shirt and ski pants, but getting them off seemed impossible, so he quickly stripped himself naked, breathing for her between discarding clothing, then picked her clothed form up and pulled her into the shower receptacle with him. The tepid water burned his skin and he gasped. The water should only be blood temperature at best, he remembered. Where had he remembered that? Concentrate! He reached for the faucet to turn it down but realised that it was not really hot. His skin was just so cold. Concentrate dammit! He had to strip her. He had to get her under the water and warmed! The whole exercise seemed like walking in sticky treacle. Everything worked against him. Scully's buckles would not undo, he could not breathe for her at that angle, his hand bled on everything and stickied the surface, making zippers and buttons impossible. The laces on her boots would not undo. But as Mulder worked, the tepid water flowing over him gradually cleared his mind. Presently, he had her stripped to her underwear. He gradually increased the temperature of the water. Holding Scully against him with his right arm he stood naked with her under the shower. And he felt slight puffs from her mouth. It was hard to tell in the dim light of the lantern, but her face looked a little less blue. She was definitely breathing, maybe she had never stopped. He allowed himself to think they might be all right. Mulder slowly lowered himself and his partner to the floor of the shower, having plugged the drain with her shirt. There was already an inch or two of luke warm water in the bottom, so he leaned against the wall and closed his eyes. He cradled Scully in his arms as the water cascaded over their bodies and filled the shallow receptacle until it overflowed. =A0 Mulder had not given himself time to think about what had happened that day. About what had gone wrong. His past actions and their consequences to Scully began to weigh heavily on his mind. He had almost killed her because of some blind need to take revenge. Again. How many times had he gone blindly into the fray, made reckless fast decisions and ignored the potential consequences to this woman, his partner, his friend, his...more than all of that? Oh God she was everything to him. She made him whole. He had almost killed her today. Concentrate dammit! He must concentrate on only one thing, keeping alive that part of him which gave him life. Goddammit, not just for him, but for her. She deserves so much more. How long had he sat there? How long before the water ran out? How long did he need to keep her here? What if...Mulder shook his head and looked up. Watching the water spray down, he listened to the growing storm outside. He'd never been much on counting blessings before but... "Ah hell..." the water fizzled and finally, stopped altogether. Mulder felt his partner's body. The shower had not generated sufficient heat to warm even the tiny bathroom, let alone the cabin. They were not out of the woods yet. He had to find something to dry her and keep her warm. But at least his head was clearer now. Mulder began to shiver, but not in the uncontrolled fashion of before. If Dale still kept matches in a porcelain pot by the stove, it was a sure bet he kept a robe behind the bathroom door. He clutched Scully to himself then stepped across the edge of the shower and nudged the door closed with his foot. He grinned, momentarily cheered by the sight of the thick white robe. Pulling it to himself, he wrapped Scully then carried her to the main cabin. There, against the far wall, he could just make out the shape of a large bed. Mulder carried her across and laid her to one side then pulled the bed covers down. He was about to roll her gently into the bed when he realised he had not stripped her wet underwear. The restraints he had deliberately set himself caused him to hesitate, but he pushed his qualms aside and stripped her, it was not as if he had never seen her naked before. Covering her in the eiderdown quilts, Mulder grabbed the robe and, despite it being wet, flung it around his shoulders in an attempt to retain what little warmth he'd gained from the shower. Priorities, he had to get his priorities right. Scully was not out of danger yet. He must get a fire going to warm the cabin, then he had to get her warm. Mulder returned to the bathroom, turned off the gas and collected the matches and lantern. Opposite the bed was a fireplace. Cold and barren, even of old ashes, it was clear Dale had left the pace in the same immaculate order as always. But Mulder grinned again as his eyes rested on the stack of logs and wood shavings - stored in various matched sizes of course - and began to wonder if there wasn't something to be said for anal personalities. In no time, Mulder had a fire going. He stacked it well with logs then turned back to the bed to check Scully. His mind was clear and although he felt unbelievably tired, Mulder realised it was mostly emotional exhaustion. He had almost killed her. Again. He sat on the side of the bed and, holding the lantern high looked at his partners' face. Her lips were still blue. He touched her forehead, cold, far too cold. Under the down covers her body felt like ice. She shouldn't be that cold! A vague memory came back, 12% of body heat is lost through the head. He glanced up at the coat rack by the door and saw a couple of hats, including a dark ski mask. He took it from the rack and placed it over Scully's wet hair, covering her ears and mouth, wondering if it was safe to cover her nose. Maybe not, he would not risk it. Glancing around it was clear that no other beds existed in the cabin, not even a couch. He could probably make himself comfortable in one of the armchairs, in front of the fire, but Scully's extreme cold frightened him. There was really only one way to restore her body heat. Well, two, but he pushed that sally from his mind before it took form. He recalled nights together where she had held him in her arms as he lay shivering and sick or wounded. She would not have hesitated a moment to do the same for him. She never hesitated to do anything for him. Mulder pursed his lips, breathed deeply and pulled the wet robe off. Then he lifted the quilt and climbed into bed. He took his partner's body and pulled it on top of his. Gasping at the extent of her cold Mulder wondered for a moment if he was just making it worse. His body was no hot water bottle. But the warmth of the eiderdown began to take effect and he knew this was going to work. How Scully would react when she woke and took stock of the situation was another matter. But for the first time that afternoon, he let himself grin. Mulder remained still for a long time, his breath slowing and his mind, as well as body finally relaxing. He felt himself falling asleep as those parts of Scully's body that touched him, gradually warmed. He ran his left hand across her torso and changed her position against himself. So cold! He'd warm one part only to find another so cold it seemed he could do nothing to warm her properly. He rubbed his legs gently against the soft skin of hers, trying to force some of his heat into her. Finally, to maximise the amount of contact, he discarded propriety and pulled her face down directly on top of him. Her balaclava'ed head lay resting on his chest. He wrapped his legs over hers and firmly rubbed his hands across her back and thighs, trying to massage in warmth. Mulder's right hand had started to function again and with awareness came pain. The deep ache in his hand was probably a mild case of frostbite. He'd been lucky, the intensifying pain and use of fingers meant his hand would likely be okay. He tried to examine it in the dim light of the fire, but all he could see were bloody patches. Mulder mentally shook his head, he was not going to get up now and try to treat the wounds. Rubbing Scully's body took on a rhythmic, almost hypnotic motion and in time, his exhaustion finally overwhelmed him and he slept. Scully's movements woke him. He lay still a moment then heard her moan softly. The light from the fire had dimmed and he glanced down, feeling his partner's naked body lying prone on his equally naked form. The pain and fear of the previous night had drifted away into this soft, warm moment. Nothing unusual in that, it was the way he dealt with most horrors, simply left them to drift away in whatever small warmth he could find. And for the last few years that small warmth was right here, a copper topped bundle of woman. A midnight phone call, a look into her eyes, standing close to her, a touch if he thought he could risk it. It was enough to hold his sanity in place. But then he wondered what had happened to her sanity? When was the last time he had really seen her laugh, or, for God's sake, even smile? She had smiled these last few days, but it was not with him or for him. It was with Dale. Not with him, never with him. He had ripped the smiles and laughs from her soul while devouring her warmth of spirit to fill his own selfish needs. God, had he turned into some sort of male succubus? Libidinous thoughts idly peeked through. Christ Mulder you really are pitiful. She's lying half dead in your arms and all you can do is get a hard on! He instantly squashed it. It was so inappropriate he was disgusted with his subconscious. So what was new about that? He had to get up and find some clothes. "Scully, Scully...Dana?" His partner did not respond verbally, although she made feeble motions with her arms. Mulder felt his emotions swing once again, and allowed himself a small smile. She was alive, he was alive, they had enjoyed a taste of the real world, kids and Christmas. They were safe, secure and relatively warm. Neither of them were in immediate danger. That was enough for now. He gently lifted her from him and pulled the covers off. Gasping as the cold air hit his nakedness, he climbed across the bed and went to stoke the fire. New kindling burned brightly, so he reached for the robe and, hanging it on the back of a chair, brought it as close to the fire grate as he dared. He picked up Scully's wet underwear and draped it over the mantelpiece, idly hoping the thin garments might dry by morning. Then he crouched in front of the now blazing fire and examined his right hand. It wasn't as bad as he thought, just incredibly sore. Patches of skin had been ripped away, but the flesh beneath seemed relatively intact. He should find a medical kit and some clothes. A muffled groan came from the bed. Scully's form moved slightly so he went to her. The cold was too much and the bed too tempting so he pulled the covers over himself again. "Scully? Scully can you hear me?" "Mmm....Mulder?" She reached a hand towards his voice. He took it and pulled himself towards her. "Cold....Mulder I'm cold." She whispered. Mulder gently lifted her shoulders and pulled her to him once more. Scully nestled in the crook of his arm, resting her head on his shoulder and reaching her hand around his chest. His familiar smell calmed her and she drifted back to sleep. Mulder smiled again and touched the balaclava. The temperature in the cabin was still low, but the only way her hair would dry properly would be to remove the ski mask. So he gently eased it from her head. "Mulder?" "It's okay now Scully, you're fine, go back to sleep." He tenderly brushed the lose strands of hair from her face and tucked them behind her ear. Scully's hand moved across his chest in slow patterns as she subconsciously assured herself of his presence. Mulder breathed deeply. Wrapping her in his arms, he rested his cheek against her head, wanting to hold her, to protect her against forces that sought to destroy them. Scully rarely allowed him to see her as anything other than completely in control, strong and capable, needless of protection. It was a fine balance between them and yet, as was the case now, they had from time to time taken shelter in one other's arms, in the strength of each other's comforting presence. Mulder rubbed her shoulders and she murmured softly, a small smile playing across her lips. He felt his heart move with the strength of his feelings for her. The strength of his love and need. Where the hell were these thoughts coming from? They had intruded into his mind twice in the past two days. Twice too many. Mulder closed his eyes and breathed deeply of her soft woman scent. His crusade had been forced upon her and her life was now invested in their mutual need for those truths. That she considered the answers must reside in the realms of her safe, ordered world of science made no difference, they traveled the same road. And that their road, their everyday life, was the stuff of other's worst nightmares, was in fact a choice they both made. A thousand times he'd blamed himself for all her lost smiles, for all her lost youth. A million times he'd blamed himself for Samantha. And yet every now and then he accepted the truth. The truth of his parents grand deception, to allow, no, to encourage the boy Fox to blame himself because they were incapable of accepting blame for their own far greater sins. Had he ever forgiven his father? Jesus, in truth did he know if Bill was his father? And if not, could he ever forgive Spender, or himself for that matter, for almost succumbing to the horror of their truth. But then there was Scully, saving his sorry ass once again. God he loved her. He loved her enough to give her up. But Scully would not be given up so easily. She had made it her life too, not just because of him, but for herself. He sighed and looked at his watch. 5.53am. How much more sleep would he get? As reluctant as he was to leave her, such thoughts had the inevitable effect on his libido. He really had to find some clothes before she woke. And he needed to attend to his hand. The cold air assaulted his body and he shivered, but it was nothing like the night before. It should be easy enough to find what he needed. Dale used to keep his underwear in the top drawer of a dresser, tee shirts next and so on. Reaching for the lantern, Mulder chuckled as he recalled the nights he'd swapped the drawers around, just to confuse him. It only took him a few moments to locate a large dresser and closet. He quickly donned a pair of Dale's briefs. Dale had laughed at Mulder's shorts when he'd first spied them. Mulder hated tight underwear, it made him feel like he was wearing Speedo's all the time, but they would do for now. He found a tee shirt and a thick, fleecy track suit. Woolen ski socks completed the ensemble. Looking through the drawers, he located a few smaller shirts. Dale had a propensity to wearing them tight. They would do nicely for Scully. He threw them on the bed along with another tracksuit and pair of wool socks. Grabbing hangers from the closet, he went back into the bathroom and stared at the wet bundle of freezing clothes in the shower. His didn't matter so much, so he hung them over the shower rail, but Scully would be none too impressed having to clomp around in Dale's boots. He placed her boots and shirt in front of the fireplace then went back into the bathroom to hang the remainder of her clothes and find the medical kit. Mulder noticed a jagged tear and a reasonable amount of blood on the back of her ski pants and frowned. He'd felt some contusions on her the night before and was certain the sticky blood he'd touched on her thigh was not from his hand, but he had felt no obvious lacerations. However Mulder mentally conceded that his brain had not been firing on all cylinders. He'd attend to his hand first, then check her for wounds. "Good ol' Mom. " Mulder muttered as he stared at a huge range of medical necessities in a wall cupboard. There were tubes of frostbite cream with the lids all nicely in place. Mulder grabbed one, a bottle of ethanol and a carton of assorted bandages and clips and took it back out to the fireplace. He grimaced as he squeezed half a tube over his hand, then wrapped the bandages around as snugly as he could and clipped them in place. The cream must have had some xylocaine or similar, he thought, for the throbbing and pain immediately began to fade. Mulder stoked the fire then went back to Scully. It took him a few minutes to find it, but he winced when he saw the wound. Just where her leg joined her buttock a long, jagged cut arced up and inward. She'd probably been hit by flying debris from the explosion. But no,there was also bruising on her buttock and thigh. She must have fallen or been pushed onto something. He pursed his lips, the cut stretched into her groin. It was a lousy location to put butterfly bandages. As clinically as possible, Mulder wiped the area with a ethanol and pulled the lips of the cut together. He knew it was far too late to get them to join neatly, but at least it would stop any further bleeding. In the dim light he could see darker patches on the brown sheets. He studiously avoided touching or looking at anything other than the cut, wishing he could maintain the same clinical detachment as Scully used when patching him. And wishing most wholeheartedly that the cut had not extended as far as it did. The butterfly bandage would hurt like hell when she took it off because he sure as hell was not going to shave her. Mulder took a deep breath when he'd finished his handiwork. It was not perfect, but it would do. His only concern now was that she had not woken during his ministrations. But a glance at her face proved him wrong. Although Scully was by no means lucid, the frown on her face and small moan indicated her discomfort. He was relieved, as much as he had not wanted to disturb her, Scully's lack of response had been disquieting. By the time he had finished dressing her and pulled the covers over both of them again, she was more aware. "Mulder, what are your doing?" "It's only fair I get to play doctor, too." "What?" but her eyes hardly opened. "Nothin' Scully, go back to sleep." She tried to roll over and grimaced, reaching for him in the dull light. He took her hand and she opened her eyes. "You were dressing me. Mulder, where are my clothes?" Scully tried to sit, but shivered as the eiderdown fell from her shoulders. "I'm so cold." He moved closer and taking her in his arms again, pulled the covers up. Mulder frowned, wondering if he should answer or encourage her to go back to sleep, but he could see the interior shape of the cabin now and glancing at his watch, realised it was close to dawn. "Why do I feel so cold?" she asked in a small voice. "You're a bright girl, you should know marathon swimming is not part of the Winter Olympics." Scully pushed the residual sleep from her mind, but nothing was really clear. Then she remembered being thrown into the water. The incredible, unbelievable pain of cold flooding through her body. And his words "You have one chance Agent Scully. Forrester's cabin is amongst those trees. " He had pointed to the far bank. "If you can swim that far, perhaps you might survive." =A0 Why he had dumped her remained a mystery. Or perhaps not, the chances of surviving in the water for more than a few minutes were remote. Her ski pants quickly filled and if she'd felt cold when falling in, it was nothing compared to the needles of pain that raced up her legs and back as the water soaked in. But Scully did not react to him or his words. It was a fight against time now, to get to the shore. As she reached out to stroke, her pants impeded her. She wanted to strip them, but the cold had already started to interfere with her reasoning. Scully tried to calculate the risk, swim straight to shore and walk, or swim to the cabin. But the shore was convoluted. The walk would take longer than swimming. Perhaps. She had no idea as arm reached over arm in a rhythmic, familiar pattern. She tried to kick, but the cut on her thigh hurt and her leg reacted by cramping. The pain combined with the others and only instinct kept her headed in the right direction. Her mind darkened, starting to black out. Only years of lap swimming in an automatic pattern kept her body moving when her brain willed it to stop and rest, just for a few minutes. Finally, nearing the shore, she heard Mulder's voice and the sounds of wood on wood, a boat rowing. Mulder would save her. Just as she felt the icy rime of the beach, her brain won out and she blacked out. Her last thoughts were that when Mulder found her, at least they were close to the cabin. She might not survive, but he would. =A0 "I knew you'd find me." She finally said. "Well, I wasn't sure if it was you or a dead otter." She grinned slowly, but then the grin faded as she shivered. "Scully, you were badly hypothermic." He said softly as he wrapped his arms around her. She took comfort in the warmth of his body and curled her legs up into a ball, nestling against him. Grimacing as she felt the cut again she heard Mulder continue "Tell me what to do to help you." "I'm not hypothermic anymore Mulder, I'm just plain cold. I'm fine, really." His mouth tightened in annoyance "No, no you are not fine Scully, you nearly died. You're a Doctor, just once try to treat yourself as you would any other patient." "I don't have any patients, except when you get yourself banged up." But she smiled up at him and looked around. Clearly he had found the cabin. The fire opposite was almost mesmerising and minutes passed until she spoke. "I'd love a cup of hot chocolate." Mulder took his arms from her and got up. He tucked the quilt around her before turning to what she presumed was the kitchen. Scully immediately missed the warm comfort of his body. She had not thought about it before but she realised he had been in bed with her. "Dale was a nanny," Mulder called from the kitchen. "We nicknamed him Mom because of an overly fastidious nature." He held a packet of drinking chocolate in his hand and grinned at her through the doorway. "I hate to admit this Scully, but for once I must concede to his predilection's. This place is a veritable haven." Scully slowly eased herself up in bed, trying to fight the giddiness. She looked at the fire opposite then frowned slightly and turned her head to one side in mute question. "Mulder why is my underwear on the mantelpiece?' "I thought I'd use them as Christmas stockings, give Santa a thrill." "Mulder, Christmas was yesterday. I'm serious." Mulder called from the kitchen "Scully, you were saturated through, then after another half hour in the shower, I couldn't leave them on you. And unless Dale's changed in ways I'd prefer not to ponder, I didn't think he'd have much in the way of spare women's lingerie tucked into neat little pockets of his dresser." Scully blinked again and digested that information. Her bladder finally demanded her undivided attention and she eased herself out of bed, grimacing at the cold. The dull pain in her left thigh and the waves of giddiness and nausea threatened to overcome her. Wrapping her arms about herself, she padded across the floor to what she presumed was the bathroom, grabbing a thick sweater off the end of the bed and pulling it around her shoulders as she walked. Mulder returned with two cups in hand "Hey Scully, I...." he looked up and his heart skipped at the empty bed, but then he noticed the bathroom door closed. He waited what he thought was an appropriate length of time. Just as he was about to call out, she hobbled out with a puzzled frown on her face. Still shivering, she limped back to bed and pulled the quilt around herself. Mulder climbed on to the bed and sat close, handing her a mug. "Thanks," she replied, noticing his hand for the first time. "Mulder, what's wrong with your hand?" He waved it slightly in an effort to dismiss it, but blood had seeped out off the bandages. "I think I got a touch of frostbite." "That's more than a touch, you're bleeding." Scully placed the mug on the headboard behind the bed and reached for Mulder's hand. "Let me have a look." Mulder sighed, she looked exhausted so he would not fight her on this. She examined the bandaging and said "If you're going to administer yourself, you should learn to bandage..." Scully stopped mid sentence, "At least as well as you bandaged me." He grinned at her discomfiture "Hey Scully, ya gotta learn to get yourself wounded in less difficult locations." "I'll remind the next person who kidnaps me to take that into consideration." She replied dryly as she unwrapped her partner's ineffective bandages. "It's more freeze burn than frost bite." Mulder commented, "I grabbed a metal faucet." "It's not as bad as it looks, I think," she replied, turning it more into the light now coming through the window "What have you found in the way of medication?" "Anything your little heart desires, Dr. Scully! Dale's a borderline hypochondriac, there's even plastic splints and an oxygen resuscitation unit." Which he heartily wished he'd known about the night before. Mulder reached up behind her for the bandages, scissors and frost bite cream. Scully noticed the missing cap and tube squished from the center. She glanced at him knowingly "This should be fine, Mulder. It has antiseptic and mild anesthetic properties." Scully gently spread the cream across his palm and fingers then wrapped his hand in a firm, but flexible bandage. "I used it on your hands and toes and some on your face, and on the wound. I didn't think it would do any harm?" Scully nodded without catching his eye, not really wanting to discuss the placement of the butterfly bandages. "Thank you," "Oh the pleasure was all mine." He replied, deadpan. Scully finally looked into Mulder's eyes and he almost laughed at the fire in them, but he handed her the mug before she could say anything. If he had a dime for every time he'd seen that look. "What happened last night? How did you find this place?" She asked between sips. He noticed that she was shivering again and tentatively wrapped his arms around her. To his surprise she snuggled closer, trying to absorb his warmth. Her eyes were still sunken, her face and lips pale. No matter how strong she seemed, Scully suffered the effects of her ordeal. Mulder related the events from the time he was attacked until he reached the shore "I booby trapped the boat before he forced me off." "How?" "I bumped the gas faucet on as we went through gallery." Heavier than air, Scully knew the odorless gas would settle in the bilges. The spark from starting the petrol engine would be enough to blow the boat into matchsticks. It was a common cause of fatal boating accidents. Mulder's voice dropped "He told me you were safe. I thought he meant safe back at the village. When I saw a woman stagger out of the front hatch wearing that jumper..." Mulder rubbed his face in his other hand. "I...I thought it was you, then the boat blew. I thought I'd killed you, Scully." His voiced faded to a hoarse whisper. Scully turned to look into his eyes, knowing the pain he would have suffered. "The woman decided she like my jumper better on her than me." There was a pause in the conversation as each considered the events that had led them there. "Mulder?" Scully said in a small voice "The bounty hunter came." "What?" He almost dropped his mug in surprise. He quickly placed it on the headboard and turned her shoulders to look him directly in the face. How many times had she missed the moment? How often had she arrived late, or been drugged or half out of it, denying the reality that her skeptical mind refused to accept? "What did you see?" he asked excitedly. "I...I don't know Mulder," Scully replied in a little girl voice "I saw a dark shadow over the boat....and lights....like the lights on the bridge at Ruskin Dam..." She shook her head trying to capture the image. "I've seen that aircraft before. He...he smashed into the cabin and knocked me across the room. I think that's when I injured my leg. Then he grabbed the woman like she was a rag doll. He looked at her face...I think he was looking for someone specific and the woman wasn't the one he wanted." Scully then related how he had picked her up, pulled her onto the deck and tossed her into the water. "Mulder, can we talk about this later? I...need to think it through before I can get a clear picture. How did you find the cabin?" Every instinct in Mulder demanded he grab his partner and force her to recognise that something more than they had considered was operating here. But he knew it was no good, he'd been down that road too many times before. Scully would ascribe the experience to an unexplained, but explainable phenomena. She would catalogue it and file it and...No. No, that was unfair. Despite all evidence to the contrary, Scully desperately clung to her faith in her science to get her through. He clung to his faith in his convictions. They each had their respective philosophical crutches. "You had a post-it on your nose that said 'that away', with a little arrow. Seriously, we used to fish this end of the Loch and I knew Dale had built a cabin." As they talked, Scully realised how comfortable it was to absorb his warmth and presence. It had taken her a while to become accustomed to Mulder's proximity. From day one, he stood or sat way too close. He had no compunction reading over her shoulder, intimately whispering observations in her ear. At first she though he was trying to intimidate her. He was so much taller, bigger than her diminutive frame. Then Scully considered that on their first assignment together, his stories and their experiences had crawled under her psych and she had gone to him in sheer terror, dropping her robe for him to examine the lumps on her back. When told it was just a few mosquito bites, she had turned and grasped him in relief. Mulder had not taken advantage of that situation, offering only to let her stay until she'd recovered. That brief intimacy had opened him sufficiently to talk about his sister. But at no time was there even the vaguest hint of impropriety. Over time Scully realised Mulder's physical proximity was a form of solidarity, of his need and affection for his partner when more overt gestures might have been misinterpreted. As the years passed it became their solidarity against the world. Other, more intimate gestures of friendship grew. A touched face, a held hand, a hug, even sleeping in one another's arms. Their physical closeness was a language as strong and meaningful as any lover's while never overstepping barriers that must be held in place if their partnership was to succeed. Still, sometimes Mulder took way too much delight in teasing her and even now, after all these years, Scully occasionally wondered how much was simply teasing. Then that all changed the day in his apartment hallway. It was clear his emotions had passed the formal line. Or had they? Scully repeatedly asked herself. What defined the powerful bonds between investigative partners but a deep and abiding trust a...a love? She had witnessed such bonds countless time between agents in the Bureau, in police and Sheriff's stations. Without that bond they could not truly work together as a team. Had Scully herself not breached those same lines as she wrote about him in her journal? That one-sided conversation with her partner often haunted her. During the cancer treatment, she truly believed she would die and those words were for him alone after her death. They were a catharsis for her and she hoped a balm for him. An apology for dying and leaving him alone once more. It was something her family, her brother, could never comprehend. Why wasn't Mulder by her side throughout her illness? Why was he off searching for his little green monsters, discarding Scully when she was of no need and disregarding her when she was of no use? Bill could never comprehend that Mulder was not one to sit idly by and hold her hand. He was out there, fighting for her life in the only way he knew how. And Scully knew that and loved him for it. He had read her words of understanding, that she felt far closer to him in those moments when he was not with her, searching not for him, but for her. She had been embarrassed that he'd read her journal, to know her heart so deeply. But he held her in his arms and allowed those despairing words to pass. She had chosen life, life with him as her partner, as her friend. No more, no less. They were partners. As trite as it seemed in her mind, they were lovers of the souls and minds and hearts. Scully had seen marriages ruined in part because the emotional bonds between FBI partners of even the same sex was so great, it left wives feeling outcast. Yet such bonds were rarely anything other than strongly heterosexual. How many marriages could truthfully boast such power, such love? How many husbands and wives would trust each other with their very lives? How often would they continue to risk themselves for their partner in the face of an enemy so overwhelming that survival was not a consideration? How many would literally travel to the ends of the earth to save each other? And was it not consistent with such bonding that partners of the opposite sex might take shelter in one another's arms for a moment or two, reaching out to each other's compassion and friendship in a very human need to touch and be touched? Perhaps the need would be less so if both were married. Each could return home at night and take comfort in the arms of their respective loved ones. But neither of them had that recourse. And was it not possible then, in a moment of great need, that such comfort might momentarily cross an almost invisible line from affection to passion? Scully had often found herself wondering what might have happened had that bee not stung her. And as the thoughts formed, she pushed them away, intellectualising that it was a moment of weakness. Their affection could never debase that pure love with the rough bodily needs of sex. That was a one way road to destroying everything they had worked so hard to build. That moment had fortunately past. All these practiced thoughts and feeling passed her in a second. She was familiar with them, for they were the mortar cementing the protective wall that separated her and bound her to Mulder. Mulder used his quirky sense of humor to hide the terrifying frustration of the previous night. He told the story to her as a comedy of errors until the fiasco had them both laughing. "Jeez Scully, next time can you buy ski pants instead of a chastity belt?" She chuckled "There are zips at the side, you didn't need to unbuckle." "Now you tell me!" He went on to describe the following minutes as if it were the funniest joke in the world, finishing off with the punch line "Then the damned water ran out!" Scully knew Mulder's humor covered his terror. She could still feel the appalling cold in her bones and through the haze, the feeling of his warm flesh against hers. He leered at her and quipped "Ah, but it rained sleeping bags - well eiderdowns anyway. D'ya think that's covered in the manual on protocol? " Scully blushed and he was almost sorry he'd told her. But Mulder knew she would figure it out. Better for it to be discarded in the vein of humor rather than hidden like an awkward secret. "Look, you might want to check yourself out for other wounds. I felt a few contusions and some pretty nasty bumps here and there. And I didn't find that laceration until a few hours ago, so it may not heal all that fast." Scully kept her face averted as she sipped the now cool chocolate. Mulder was somewhat surprised at her sensitivity "Scully," he said gently, careful in his choice of words now. He might delight in teasing her, trying to shock her out of her rigid professionalism, but he had not meant to genuinely embarrass her, at least not this time. He'd never given a second thought to the necessary catheter she'd put in him after she'd shot and induced an artificial coma in him some years back. "You were literally freezing to death. I was in no position to figure out how to reset the hot water system. We had no dry clothes and....Well, I'm not one for sexist remarks, but last night I was damned glad my partner wasn't a man." Scully stopped him with a small smile, looked up and replied "Thank you." "Yeah, well, when you're done," he replied, looking down at his own body, "You might want to check me over for more frost bite. Comes from sleeping with a popsicle." Scully closed and opened her eyes slowly and grinned at his irreverence. Then she yawned uncontrollably. "Look, get some rest while I try and figure out breakfast." Scully unfurled her legs then frowned in distaste "Mulder it's wet in here. I'm not sure why but.." He pulled the covers back and grimaced at the sticky blood. Scully gasped and felt her cheeks redden. For a moment, adolescent problems of waking with unexpected menses came flooding back. But there was too much blood for that. "Ah hell...." Mulder groaned, sick with guilt once more. "Scully I'm sorry, I had no idea it was that bad." He chewed his lower lip and looked at her. He'd seen dark patches but hadn't figured the extent. No wonder she was so pale! Scully reached behind her leg, when her hand came back, there were streaks of blood. "I think I've broke a couple of the butterfly's." Mulder looked around then opened the footlocker. He pulled out a set of bedclothes. "Wait Mulder, I better get this fixed up first. Can you..." she looked at him with pleading eyes and motioned for him to wait in the kitchen. "Scully, you're going to have to let me do it, you'll never reach there." He grimaced as she closed her eyes. Scully was an intensely private person and this further indignity was not sitting well. Before she could argue the point he grabbed the bottle of ethanol and some swabs. "I probably got some cream under them. I'll clean it and they should stick better. Roll over." She hesitated then did as he told her. She had to take her pants down and she had no underwear on. But Mulder had put the trousers on her in the first place. Hell, why did she have to be cut there of all places? Scully clutched at her emotional walls and stoically pulled the elastic from her waist. She kept the eiderdown covering her hips. When she rolled over she gratefully felt Mulder pulling the quilts further around her, covering as much of her legs and buttocks as possible. "Curl up some more, I can't see." Scully pulled her legs towards her chest, hoping that the blush in her face did not extend to any other parts of her body. "It's not too bad, just two of them over the widest point. I'll put four this time." He concentrated on cleaning the area with ethanol, trying not to drop any of the fiery liquid into her wound, but it was unavoidable. She flinched and he put his hand on her hip in mute apology. This is what friends are for. This is what friends are for. This is what friends are for, Scully mantra'd to herself over and over. Presently he was finished. He handed her another set of sweat pants and went into the bathroom to wash. By the time he returned Scully was up and stripping the bed. "I'll do that." "I'm fine Mulder." "God dammit Scully, enough! You are not fine. You almost died last night and you've lost blood. If you don't believe me, go take a look at yourself in the mirror!" She was surprised at his angry outburst, but her head started to spin and she almost collapsed on the bed. Mulder swept her up in his arms. "Okay, you've bullied me, you win." but she smiled to take any sting for her voice. Mulder carried her to a lounge chair in front of the fire and sat her gently down. He tossed her the clean comforter to warm herself, then stripped the bed of bloody sheets and covers. Fortunately a mattress protector had soaked up the blood before it penetrated. Mulder looked around, then opened the door and threw the bedding out into the snow. He'd go outside later and try to find somewhere to put them. He made the bed again then lifted Scully from the chair and carried her back. That she hardly objected worried him. How much blood had she lost in the loch, then in the shower? He shook his head, no point wondering now. She was strong, the bleeding had stopped, a few good meals and a couple of days rest and she'd be fine. END PART 4