From: sonny <sonny@webspin.org>
Date: Wed, 28 Jul 99 11:46:21 +1000
Subject: Human Affairs Parts 5-7/7
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

HUMAN AFFAIRS PART 5/7
CHAPTER 15
LOCH MEADE NORTHERN ENGLAND
26th DECEMBER 1999
Mulder busied himself in the kitchen. He hated cooking, in fact he
really didn't have much time for food. Oh he appreciated fine
cuisine, so long as someone else prepared it. But his stomach was
howling in protest and he realised he had not eaten in 24 hours. And
Scully needed food, proper food, not horse chaff and celery sticks.
After a time he returned the main cabin with a tray. Scully's eyes
were closed but she smiled when he sat on the edge of the bed.
"Hey, Scully, how about Christmas dinner...a little late but..."
"Oh Mulder, wow!"
Dale had stocked the cabin with an assortment of tinned gourmet
foods, from rich smoked hams to luxurious brandy fruitcakes, pates
and exotic fruits. They gorged themselves, laughing and giggling like
children, celebrating a rare moment of pleasure in simply being
alive. But as Mulder moved the remains of their unusual breakfast
from the bed, he could see Scully's hooded eyes.
"We're stranded until this blizzard passes, probably a couple of
days. Get some rest and I'll check out a few things, try and get the
power on."
Scully nodded. She really wanted a bath to remove the blood from her
body and stickiness from her hair, but Mulder was right. No reason
not to rest. She yawned and eased back under the eiderdown covers.
Mulder glanced at her once before he zipped his jacket and pulled the
hood around his face. He opened the door into a whirlwind of white
and cold knifing into his face. The blizzard was in full force now
and he didn't want to be outside too long. He could make out the gray
shapes of trees, but couldn't see what he was looking for until he
rounded the second corner of the hut. There it was, just a few paces
away. The snow flurries cleared for a few moments and he trudged
through the drifts to the shed. This time he left his gloves on to
lift the metal latch. He glanced back once, making certain he had a
good bearing on the cabin in case there was a total white out on
return. 
Inside, the hut smelled vaguely oily. Mulder pulled back his jacket
hood and looked around. Yep, just as he figured, Dale had two
generators set up. Assorted tools and fishing tackle, a few drums of
fuel and snow shovels were placed in a mathematically precisioned
sense of order. One side of the hut was stacked with cut timber,
enough for a couple of weeks, Mulder guessed.
He didn't dare remove his gloves and his right hand was next to
useless. It took almost an hour's fumbling to establish the primary
generator and to get it fueled up. He smiled as the starter button
kicked the machine over first try. Yep, there was a lot to be said
for anal retentives.
The kitchen and bathroom pipes had seized that morning. He needed to
find the bore and get that working before heating the pipes. Mulder
pulled the hood over his face again.
The cold and damaged right hand slowed him considerably and it was
mid afternoon by the time he had everything functioning to his
satisfaction. They had power, water, stacks of firewood and enough
food to keep them alive for a couple of weeks, if stuffed quail's
eggs and caviar could be considered 'survival food' he thought
ruefully. Mulder finally scuffed off the last of the snow from his
boots and hung his jacket over the rail for the last time. He was not
going outside again that day if he could help it.
Earlier, on one of his forays in the cabin, he'd climbed the ladder
to find a small office loft, complete with library and computer.
Maybe later he could start on his report while they waited for the
blizzard to pass. He just wished the computer were connected to a
phone line.
Mulder glanced across to check Scully. She had been fitful the last
time he looked, so he left a glass of water by the bed. It remained
untouched, but there was definitely more colour in her cheeks.
His feet were icy cold and he realised, looking at them, that his
toes probably had a touch of frostbite. Mulder grabbed the ointment
from the headboard and idly wondered if he music would disturb
Scully. At different times, in different hotels they'd shared, she
had no trouble sleeping when he was ensconced on a couch in front of
a television, so he used the remote to turn it on. A couple of CD's
were already in, so he sat in one of the armchairs and concentrated
on his feet.
Scully floated in the soft world between being asleep and awake. Her
head still felt a little sore where she'd been hit, but the cut on
her leg gave no trouble at all, at least while there was no weight on
it. And she felt warm. After being so cold for so long, she was at
last warm. There seemed to be no point in moving. 
Scully was not sure how much blood she had lost, but combined with
the hypothermia, her resulting listlessness was understandable. There
had been no reason to fight it, so she simply allowed herself to
relax and enjoy the comforting sounds of Mulder moving about the
cabin, knowing he would have everything in hand.
Then a low, rich voice penetrated her doze. Mulder must have found a
video, but no, the sound quality was too good. By the third phrase
she had identified the narrator, Sir Richard Burton, so she allowed
his strong, mellow voice to ease into her softly floating mind.
=A0
'No-one would have believed, in the last years of the nineteenth
century, that human affairs were being watched from the timeless
worlds of space. No one could have dreamed we were being scrutinised,
as someone with a microscope studies creatures that swarm and
multiply in a drop of water. Few men even considered the possibility
of life on other planets and yet, across the gulf of space, minds
immeasurably superior to ours regarded this earth with envious eyes
and slowly but surely, they drew their plans against us.'
=A0
A part of her wanted to sit up and groan....Good grief, couldn't the
man even find music that didn't feature malignant aliens? But the
strains of strings and synthesizer held her captivated and she waited
for Sir Richard to continue. Soon Scully found herself wrapped into a
beautifully rendered story. 
After a time, she opened her eyes a fraction. Mulder sat in an
armchair at the foot of the bed, in front of the fire. His feet were
stretched out on the chair opposite, his head tossed back, eyes
closed as he listened to the story. Every now and then he sipped from
a mug. 
Sir Richard's despairing narration faded into a wistful song,
'The summer sun is fading as the year grows
And darker days are drawing near
The winter winds will be much colder
Now you're not here.'

The haunting music tugged at her heart. She could see Mulder watching
her.
'I watched the birds fly south across the autumn sky
And one by one they disappear
I wish that I was flying with them
Now you're not here.'

Scully could see the intensity in his face, as haunted as the words
of the song

'Like the song through the trees you came to love me
Like a leaf on a breeze you blew away
Through autumn's golden gown we used to kick our way
You always loved this time of year
Those fallen leaves lie undisturbed now
'cause you're not here,
'cause you're not here,

"Fire," Sir Richard's voice continued "Suddenly leaped from house to
house..." the words washed over Scully as she watched her partner's
intense, passionate face. His eyes glistened and for one terrible
moment Scully thought he would cry. Her heart went out to him and in
a moment of supreme clarity Scully's walls crumbled and she truly
felt her partner's pain, felt his driving need to find her, to find
the truth. 
Scully understood that in many ways she had become Samantha's
surrogate and when Scully herself had been taken, Mulder fell into a
world of despair. The boy had been unable to prevent Samantha's
abduction and the man, despite his resources, despite the battles he
had fought to reveal the truth, had been equally impotent to save
Scully. True, she had been returned but it had driven home his
helplessness and reinforced his drive to find his sister.

'A gentle rain falls softly on my weary eyes
As if to hide a lonely tear
My life will be forever altered
'cause you're not here
'cause you're not here.'

Sometimes Mulder's intensity disturbed her so much she had to turn
away. But this time, she felt almost felt guilty for having seen into
his heart perhaps a little too much. The music had broken through her
walls and she needed to patch them again. She needed to be Doctor
Agent Dana Scully before she could speak. 
But the music kept battering her walls. 
Scully moved restlessly on the bed. New words, this time. More
intense, sung by a powerful female vocalist.

"There must be something worth living for
There must be something worth trying for
Even some things worth dying for
And if one man can stand tall
There must be hope for us all
Somewhere in the spirit of man."

Sir Richard's wounded voice continued "Never before in the history of
the world had such a mass of human beings moved and suffered
together....It was the beginning of the rout of civilisation, of the
massacre of mankind."

Scully felt a shiver pass through her body, a foreboding......a
premonition. Her heart pounded. She played music to suit her mood,
not the other way around. This music was affecting her mood. 
She shut her eyes and the last of the walls crumpled as her memories
took her back to a courtroom. Mulder was speaking to the judge. Her
family had been there moments before. Her mother, supportive while
Bill dissembled uncomfortably. Her brother could not countenance her
application to adopt Emily. He did not say so, of course, but the
Judge had read it. Scully could see it in his eyes.
But Mulder's simple eloquence stunned her. His revelations had knifed
her, that he knew so much but tried to protect her from the truth.
Yet here he was now, prepared to let her feel the pain for a greater
purpose, for Scully herself. Her successful adoption of Emily would
steal her from the X-files. And she knew that Mulder's trust and need
for her was unique. Her partner, and all the emotions that word
entailed, would not give such feelings to another so readily. Emily
would take her from Mulder and he knew it. Yet there he sat before
the judge and spoke words that enfolded her burdened heart. He would
have done anything for her. He would give her up in an instant and
fought any man or anything that took her from Emily, because his love
for her exceeded his own seemingly selfish needs. In his heart Mulder
had not agreed with her decision, but he would move heaven and earth
to make her happy. In that moment she knew she loved him. Not just as
a partner, or a friend, but something far greater and more intimate
than meager words could describe.
At that time her own needs and losses were too overwhelming for any
such recognition and she pushed him aside in her grief. Now here she
lay, in the darkness of a foreign land, realising the truth.
But they were partners and it could not be. That they loved one
another added only a greater depth to that partnership. It was enough.
It was enough.
Scully rolled over and sat up, trying to shake the mood.
"Hey." Mulder got up from the chair and sat on the edge of the bed.
"Hey yourself." Scully replied as she sat up "What's playing?"
Mulder chuckled "War of the Worlds."
She groaned theatrically.
Mulder shrugged defensively, "It was in the machine when I turned it
on."
"What's with the H.G. Wells theme?" Scully asked. 
"Wells, Conan Doyle, Verne, Scully they are all classic turn of the
century authors. Don't tell me you never read them as a kid."
"Sure, as a kid...but I never took them seriously."
Mulder just shook his head and smiled, "Ah Scully, after all this
time? After all we've seen? I'm thinking that when I retire I'll
write true stories couched in fiction, just like Wells and Sir Arthur
did."
"Mm...I dunno, Fox William Mulder...it just doesn't have quite the
same ring to it as Sir Arthur Conan Doyle." Scully couldn't help
smiling. Her mood had lightened with the recognition of her feelings.
They were friends and they loved one another as friends. No more, no
less. And the morose, haunted Mulder she had seen in the chair a few
minutes before had once again disappeared.
 
They spent the remainder of the afternoon going over the events of he
previous days. For once they both agreed on one point, that someone
was out to stifle any radiation checks.
"I'm beginning to think you're right, Mulder. I don't agree with the
direction of your theories regarding the bodies, but someone is sure
anxious not to have us check radiation levels."
Mulder concluded that the bounty hunter had been sent to tidy up and
lose ends.
"I preparation for what? The consortium is dead."
"The American chapter is dead. Old smoky isn't and neither is that
bounty hunter."
It wasn't too long before they found themselves standing firmly on
opposite points of view. But Scully was still tired and didn't feel
like countering his didactic arguments. After a particularly long and
convoluted diatribe, even for Mulder, Scully raised her hand in an
affirmative gesture. "Whatever."
Mulder went to continue, but closed his jaw. Scully had done it
again. How could he argue with someone who agreed with him? She
verbally left him alone and floundering in the middle of his theory.
"Mulder, I'm going to take a shower." And she pulled the covers back
and eased herself from the bed.
They spent the remainder of the evening emotionally a little distant
from one another. It was a common, almost comfortable feeling,
better, thought Scully than having other feelings intrude on her
psyche.
They ate more of the rich food, tempered with canned fruits. Scully
dozed, recovering from her ordeal and Mulder explored the computer
files. Dale kept copies of esoteric papers on everything from
invertebrate physiology to mathematical biology. Most were not
Mulder's first, or even third choice in reading matter, but there was
nothing else to do. He could not burn off energy with a run, or swim
so it was forminifera and zooplankton or nothing. His acute
intelligence and eidetic memory rummaged through the information and
stored it in his brain for future reference. Who knows when he might
need to know the biochemistry of a radiolarian?
Around midnight the lights started to flicker. Mulder debated
refueling the generator then decided morning was soon enough. He
descended the loft and grabbing a spare eiderdown, settled in a chair
in front of the re-stoked fire. 
An hour later he was restlessly trying to build the fire. The chairs
were uncomfortable, impossible to sleep in. He'd tried the floor, but
the hard boards were cold and there were no more eiderdowns to act as
a mattress. The temperature had dropped far lower that the prior
evening and the fire offered only localised warmth. He was just about
to don his boots to go start the generator, when he heard Scully's
hesitant voice.
"Mulder?"
"You okay Scully?" He touched her forehead and cheek, then reached
below the eiderdown to find her hands. They were cold. So very cold.
He frowned. The ambient temperature in the cabin was far too low. It
had been built as a summer fishing hut, not a midwinter shelter from
a raging blizzard.
"I...I'm just cold, are there any more blankets?"
Mulder frowned. He had one about his own shoulders and a fourth lay
piled in the corner of the shed, damp with blood. There were no
others. He removed the one from his back and spread it out over
Scully, but she looked at him and frowned.
"What about you?"
"I'll be fine, I'll just put a coat on." He replied lightly.
"Mulder, don't be stupid, you'll freeze to death. This is not a come
on but would you please just get into the bed?"
"Scully, I'm shocked, you're suggesting we break FBI protocol?"
Scully sighed "We're not supposed to be consorting in the same room
on assignment, either, but I think a blizzard rates an exception."
"I dunno if I can trust you Scully, you sure you don't want my body?"
"Mulder, the only thing I want from your body is heat." 
She nearly bit her tongue off when she realised what he could do with
that. Surprisingly, he did not make the expected ribald come back.
Mulder did not remove any of his clothes as he climbed under the
covers. He tentatively moved close to Scully until he felt a small
convulsive shiver from her. That was it. He moved to encircle her
with his arms and held her to him. 
Scully made no physical move to recognise his action but as they
dozed, he heard a tiny "Thank you."
"That's okay but if you try an take advantage of me, I'll report you
to Skinner.'
He couldn't see her smile, but he could feel its warmth.

The following morning the blizzard seemed to have worsened rather
than abated. Dana Scully woke slowly in dreamy haze. She had not felt
so contented in a long time. Moving her head she felt the slight
scrape of an unshaven face next to hers. She almost jumped, them
remembered Mulder getting into bed during the night. In that gray
world between wake and sleep, Doctor Agent Scully had not yet
appeared, allowing Dana to enjoy the unfamiliar closeness of a man, a
familiar and much beloved man in her bed. He mumbled and reflexively
moved. One leg was linked amongst hers. This casual unexpected
intimacy evoked a stronger reaction in her than the closeness of his
face. But then she focussed on the slightly roughed hand on her bare
stomach where her sweater and pants had separated during the night.
Dana smelled his clean maleness. It was simply far too nice to move,
so she let herself explore his face. Relaxed and unlined, it seemed
boyish in its innocence, except for the dark three day stubble. Dana
realised he'd had no time to shave Christmas morning and that the
fully bearded Dale would have had no need of razors. The rough shadow
enhanced his masculinity and his lips pouted more than normal as he
mumbled something. In an overture to wakening, he slid his hand up
from the soft flesh of Dana's stomach to her right breast, gently
fondling, spreading warmth to places she wished to ignore.
Shaking her senses fully awake, she quickly closed here eyes,
feigning sleep. Even the unflappable Agent Scully could not let those
limpid chameleon eyes open only inches from hers, while their legs
entwined, one arm nestled in her hair and the other hand cupped her
breast and oh God help me she thought as his thumb gently, mindlessly
massaged her hardening nipple.
Mulder moaned softly as he felt soft, warm flesh in his hand...a
dream, familiar, evoking the normal early morning response in his
male body. Warm flesh, real...the smell of a woman, one woman so
familiar, senses heightened. A hardened nipple...Mulder's entire body
stiffened and he sucked his breath in quickly, his brown eyes snapped
open and whirled to green, awake and staring...
...Oooh boy this was not good! Christ it was wonderful....aaahh
fucking hell!
He bit his lower lip as he became aware of exactly what his hand
touched. Oh shit. No, nope, that wasn't touching, it was fondling,
although Scully would couch it in different terms. Oh shit, oh shit!
Mulder risked a panicked glance at his partner's eyes. His nostrils
flared and he breathed out in relief. If he could just extricate
himself and get to the bathroom before she woke, he'd be fine. He
swallowed hard and consciously willed himself to move from this all
too enticing embrace. He grimaced as he lifted his hand from her
flesh and slid his other arm out from beneath her copper hair. He
lifted one of her legs with his ankle in order to extract his other
leg. By this time he was feeling far more pressure than his bladder
could possibly assert. But if he could just relieve that, he figured
he'd be okay.
Mulder slowly slid from the bed, his partner's gentle waking moans
goading him to the bathroom with hastened steps. Christ, removing
himself from that embrace had been one of the more difficult things
he'd had to do in life.
No...oh no, no, no, no, no, keep well away from that Mulder!
Scully had been ready to heave her partner off her the moment he was
fully awake. But then she felt his entire body stiffen and heard his
sudden intake of breath. He was as genuinely shocked as she.
Gratefully, regrettfully....no gratefully! she felt him extricate
himself. Scully pretended to wake as he scuttled to the bathroom.
"Morning." He smiled as came out a few minutes later and saw Scully's
eyes flutter open. He knew his lose pants could not hide anything, so
he quickly turned his back and moved aside the curtains at the
window. Glancing back he watched his partner....his partner...yeah,
just keep repeating that term and he'd be fine...his partner
stretched and yawned like a cat with burnished copper mussing her
face. Mulder turned away quickly. Relieving his bladder had only done
half the job, he did not need to be reminded that he'd deliberately
walked away from the contents of that bed only moments before. Jesus
he was only a man, not a fucking eunuch. 
"Hell, that blizzard's worse, if anything." he said, peering out at a
world of driving white.
"I wonder how long it will last?" Scully replied.
Mulder shook his head "They get them like this sometimes, two, three,
even four days long. My guess is another day at least. How you
feeling?" He heard the bathroom door closing.
"Mulder, do you think you could ever learn to put down the toilet
seat?" she raised her voice.
"Why, Agent Scully? I never complain when you don't leave it up."
Scully found herself smiling at what, after all, was a fair retort.
=A0
Scully banished Mulder to the shed to get the generator working,
while she rummaged around to find the ingredients for a cooked
breakfast. Presently he returned to smell baking muffins and the
sizzling of ham steaks.
"Marry me Scully!"
"I thought you weren't going to ask again."
"Yeah, well I didn't know you could cook."
Scully looked at him strangely "I've cooked for you before."
"No you haven't."
"Yes I have, plenty of times, whenever you've been over we've...."
"Had pizza or Chinese or some other ethnically correct takeaway."
"That couldn't be right." Scully frowned in disbelief, trying to
recall.
"Hey, I'm not complaining, you're takeaway's better than mine."
Scully kept frowning as she set out some plates. She'd never cooked
him a meal? Not once in six, almost seven years? They had shared,
hundreds, if not thousands of meals together, but she had never
cooked for him? Well why would she have? It's not like she ever
invited him to dinner. "Well Mulder, if you're a good boy I'll cook
you dinner tonight as well."
"What do I have to be good at?" He leered at her.
Scully smiled, the slight tension of the day before had evaporated
into their usual banter.
=A0
They spent the morning doing simple housekeeping. Scully still tired
quickly. The lines and shadows under her eyes were less noticeable
than the day before and her leg hurt much less when she stood.
Surprisingly, she suffered only minor frostbite on her toes and parts
of her face.
She allowed Mulder to change her dressing and in turn checked his
hands and feet. He had indeed some frostbite on his toes, but like
his hands, it would heal within a week. The torn skin was another
matter. Although not infected, Scully knew it would be extremely
sore. 
With nothing else to do, they spent the day exploring Dale's small
library and computer files. Neither thought it unusual to be content
in their deep discussion of cellular metabolism, for biology was a
subject that held Scully in thrall. Mulder in his skepticism of the
plausible, still absorbed real science like a sponge. His keen mind
and ready wit once again reminding his partner why she much preferred
to spend a day like this with Mulder, than going on some mindless
date. It may not, she thought, be much of a life to anyone else. And
to be sure there were times when she rebelled and part of her wished
for, even desperately craved more. But all in all she counted herself
lucky. She had joined the FBI to broaden her knowledge, to excel. By
their very nature the X-files would never allow her to excel in
career politics, but they challenged her like nothing she could have
imagined. And Mulder challenged both her intellect and her spirit,
forcing her to see the world in a way she never dreamed. He had once
said she made him a whole person. But Scully admitted to herself that
Mulder also made her whole. Without him the world would simply be so
much drabber.
Mind you, a little drabness once in a while wouldn't go astray. 
Over dinner their talk turned from the mechanisms of cell division to
Dolly, the cloned sheep.
"You know the key to success at the Roslin Institute seems to have
been that Wilmut starved the mammary cells for five days before
extracting their nuclei. This maneuver "froze" the cells in a
quiescent phase of their division cycle. It may have made their
chromosomes more susceptible to being reprogrammed to initiate the
growth of a new organism after the nuclei were transferred into an
egg."
Suddenly, Scully looked up from her plate to see Mulder chuckling.
"What's so funny?"
"Nothing." He waved his hand in dismissal.
"No, really, Mulder, what are you laughing at?"
"I'm impressed that after three bottles of wine and you can still
focus on chromosomes."
"I haven't really drunk two bottles of wine, have I?" Scully frowned
and looked at her glass. They'd opened the first bottle mid afternoon
and Mulder drank far less than she. Her light headiness told her it
must be so. "Y'know, I think this is the first time I've ever shared
a wine with you Mulder." 
"But not the first time you thought you had."
Scully felt her stomach lurch and looked at him oddly. Now where had
that come from? Had he really sat on it for two years, or had it had
just bubbled to the surface now, after a few wines? But he also
mentioned it on the plane.
"I'm curious Scully, have you always had a soft spot for men named
Ed?" Mulder shook his head. He had not said that, had he?
Scully frowned. Boy where was he dredging this up from? Mulder rarely
drank, maybe the wine had been a mistake.
Mulder stood quickly to clear the plates. "I'm sorry, that...that was
uncalled for. Ed Jerse had nothing to do with me."
"That's right Mulder, he didn't." Ed Jerse had been her act of
rebellion, her look outside herself, at what her life might have
been, at her mortality. It had been her hold on the moment, indelibly
engraved on her back as a permanent reminder.
Scully knew the obvious conclusion to anyone reading the police
reports was that she'd slept with Jerse. Scully knew it had shaken
her partner, but Mulder had no right to make comment or pass
judgment, so she perversely refused to respond to his less than
subtle remarks. The truth was hers alone, one small part of her life
kept tucked away from him.
Yet a part of her felt guilt for neither confirming nor denying his
conclusions. Less than a week passed before Mulder stood by her side,
as confused as ever, refusing to accept that she had terminal cancer.
Everything had changed after that. Scully had taken what she saw as
her directionless life tagging on to his coat tales and placed the
mantle of Mulder's cause on her own back. Events had since fused them
into an inseparable team with one heart and one goal, to find the
truth. 
Eddie Van Blundht was an entirely different matter, so, in vino
veritas she replied "And it had nothing to do with Eddie Blundht." 
Mulder did not wish to face this conversation "Look, I'm sorry I even
mentioned it. Really, just forget it, I'm a lousy drunk."
They were silent while the table was cleaned up, but as they sat in
front of the fire, having decided the dishes could wait till morning,
Scully looked into her wine glass and said "No, Mulder, it wasn't
about Eddie Van Blundht. It was about us. And because of that,
because of our friendship, you have every right to know. It's just
that I found it hard to explain to myself, so you're going to have to
let me say this my way. I'm going to fumble a bit here, so bear with
me."
Scully paused then took another drink to fortify herself. Mulder
stayed silent while his emotions held their collective breath.
"I admit to feeling more than a little ashamed of my actions, or
apparent lack of...resistance...but I put that down partially to
extreme surprise." Scully took a deep breath and began "To be honest,
Mulder I loathed the incident so much in part because it...it
revealed in me a frightening lack of judgment. 
"You were completely right in questioning my observation, or lack of,
and I felt embarrassed and ashamed of that more than anything. I mean
it was not the first time I've been in a situation where someone else
masqueraded as you. When the bounty hunter kidnapped me, I thought it
was you until the phone rang and I heard your voice and I...I knew
the man standing in my room was someone else. My God Mulder he acted
exactly like you! I can only put my suspicions at that time down to a
heightened sensitivity and fear of being a target. I knew something
wasn't right.
"But with Eddie, it was different. It was non-aggressive, in fact,
the opposite. When I saw you holding that ice pack to the back of
your head...it wasn't... I mean I've thought about it a hundred
times. I've gone over every minute in my mind, trying to understand
how I was so easily duped. His head wound, although minor, elicited a
natural sympathetic reaction in me. Suspicion never came into it
because I never felt threatened. 
"We caught the next flight back after you, I mean he, had me drive to
the airport because he said he had a pounding headache from the blow.
I was preoccupied on the flight. The data on his father's autopsy was
absolutely fascinating and I was finishing up my addendum to your
report. He was working on your lap top, I assumed finishing your
report...although I have no idea how he got in without your password.
I don't think we exchanged more than half a dozen words the whole
time."
"But what about in my office?" 
"We didn't go to your office. Skinner wanted to see us straight away
and I asked if you, I mean he..." Scully waved her hand in
frustration but Mulder only nodded for her to go on.
"I asked if the report was finished so I could add mine. Skinner
wanted it cleared by the weekend and it was already 5.30pm. He nodded
and winced, so I said I'd print it out while he went to the bathroom
to freshen up before seeing Skinner. 
"We didn't say much in Skinner's office. Eddie was adamant that he
had not murdered his father, but seemed resigned to the charges of
rape. I supported the death by natural causes based on my autopsy.
Even when Skinner picked up the spelling error in FBI..."
"He misspelled Federal Bureau of Investigation?"
"Twice..."
Mulder chuckled, "I bet Skinner loved that!"
"We....ell, I wouldn't put it in quite those terms, but we both knew
you, he, had been knocked pretty hard a few hours before, so it was
not something to get picky about. I guess it must have been about
7.00pm when I left him at the entrance to your office. I don't recall
him going inside, but I vaguely remember telling him I was going to
Quantico the next day. And that was it.
"When he came over that night I was surprised, but..." her voice
trailed off. 
"Given that you were in a situation where it was a one to one
conversation..." Mulder sounded bemused.
"That's the whole point," Scully interrupted, still annoyed "It was
the perfect set up because it seemed you had deliberately left the
aliens and mutants and government conspiracies at home. He came there
to relate to me as a person. He asked me a simple enough thing, about
where my life was now versus my expectations and he got me talking.
And, I admit it, my ego responded.
"Mulder you must realise that we treat people we have known for years
on the basis of an a priori relationship. At the same time, people
married for twenty, thirty years will be surprised one day by what
their partner does or says, without being suspicious that their
statements or actions belie something more sinister. I mean it wasn't
the first time we'd shared a late night discussion. Granted it was
unexpected. It was not as if we were involved in some highly
complicated Government agenda and needed to talk it through. It
was...well, just the opposite. For the first time that I've known
you, you...I mean he portrayed you as having another side to you."
Scully paused, but she wanted to get it out now, quickly, in order
for him to understand that it was not something he lacked.
"Mulder, every relationship we have with another human being fulfills
some need in us. I don't for a minute believe that the respective
partners in even the best marriages can meet the absolute
requirements of the other person. As you of all people well know,
that, in part, is the way in which a society functions. Each person
brings different elements that create a tapestry of human
relationships."
"And what part did Eddie bring?" he asked quietly. But Scully heard
the unspoken words, what part did Eddie bring that allowed him into
her personal space so much further than Mulder had ever been allowed?
"Mulder, you have to understand that it was not an aspect of you that
I was looking for, or...or ever felt was lacking. It was a new side
of you, a totally unexpected dimension that..." Scully was reluctant
to continue as this verged on her personal life...then she signed.
What personal life? "Mulder the thing that makes me so angry about
Eddie Blunht was his presumption to built upon an established
relationship, one that he neither contributed to nor deserved, and,
and used that established relationship to springboard it to another,
artificial level. Certainly that was not the case with the five women
whom he impregnated, he simply carried on established patterns. But
it was the case with Amanda Nellinger."
"And with you."
"And with me. He picked up on our close working relationship and he
attempted to use that to further his own desires. I find that, that,
twisted kind of voyuerism...no, no, that's not the right word. I
don't know what the right word is this case. But I don't think I
would have felt more personally...violated if it had have been
outright rape. At least I could ascribe that to an act of violence." 
Mulder saw her shiver at the memory. "And yet at the time, you
responded favorably."
"Mulder," Scully replied angrily, "I thought it was you but I really
did not have the time to respond, let alone favorably. I was very
surprised, taken back in fact. And when I think about it, when I
admit it to myself, Eddie Van Bluhnt should never have needed to
stoop to such tactics because as much as I am repulsed by and despise
him, I concede that he was charming and had become an expert at
playing on the inherent expectations and...and perhaps needs of other
people." 
"You mean you don't find the X-files fulfilling?" he quipped.
"Mulder, my needs are no different to yours or anybody else's. I lose
sight of that at times because I spend most of my life without them.
By choice, I might add. I'm not blaming you or anyone for that, but
it's just that when it's coming from someone I respect and trust and
care for...and with a head full of wine...at that moment in time,
under those circumstances, it appeared that you had those needs. Yes
I was surprised, shocked even, but I don't think I would have denied
you simply because of who you are and what we are to each other.
Look, I...I don't honestly know...he hadn't actually done anything
when you burst in. Another five seconds I probably would have pushed
him off me and sent him packing to sleep it off."
Mulder had only seen Blundht's head from behind, and it sure looked
like they had started...something. But he also admitted that it had
been so fast and he had been so stunned, that he couldn't be sure.
The investigator in him noticed Scully's hair was not disheveled, nor
her lipstick smeared. The genuine repugnance and the momentary look
of self loathing he'd seen in her eyes were enough to convince him
that although Scully had been disgusted, she had been physically
untouched by the whole thing. But he was glad he now knew...although
she had said she *might* have sent him packing, not *would*... He
sighed, a great deal had passed between them since then.
Mulder scraped at the fire and said "I forget to tell you before we
left. They let Eddie out on good behavior - conditional on him...."
"Are you trying to..." but she saw the glint of humor in his eyes,
picked up a pillow and threw it at him.
=A0
=A0
His slight groan woke her, moments later she felt him get up from the
bed. Scully went to speak, but her mouth was dry. Frowning, she
opened her eyes and watched his white tee shirted form move from the
side of the bed, and, silhouetted by the fire, walk past to the
bathroom. Her eyes widened and her eyebrows lifted...again? But then
her eyebrows dropped into a frown at the response from her own body.
Warmth flooded from the bottom of her belly upwards. She was grateful
that no one could possibly see her as the heat brushed into her face
and across her cheeks. If it had been anyone but Mulder, she might
have felt a vague repugnance for the large, horizontal bulge in his
black satin shorts. The worst part was when he pushed down on the
bulge with his hand, seemingly to flatten it against his groin. Nope,
that was not the worst part, Scully decided, the worst part, the part
that elicited this unwanted response in her body, was when he let out
a little groan as he did it.
Oh for goodness sake c'mon Doctor Scully! She chastised herself. A
man's erection was not automatically an invitation to his bed.
But Scully could not shake the silhouette from her mind as she
watched him pad softly into the bathroom. He closed the door but did
not latch it, the habits of a solitary man living alone. The door
swung open soundlessly, his back must have been to it. Sheesh, she of
all people knew the first thing that wakes in a man ain't his brain.
And combined with a full bladder... Scully sighed deeply. This was
totally out of context, like Eddie damned Van Blundht. But the sight
of it replayed in negative behind her closed eyes. The harder she
squeezed her eyes shut, the more the image contrasted and burned into
her memory.
Annoyed, Scully lay waiting in the dark for him to return. No matter
how she rationalised it, this was by no means like dancing with him.
He had been asleep with her in bed. Together. This was an entirely
different thing.
The noise of the blizzard outside softened to a low hum. Maybe today
they could get out of here. 
How long did it take to pee? She consciously listened to sounds
vindicating her theory that he simply needed to relieve himself,
until she realised the double meaning. She glanced up and noticed the
door had swung right open now, although he was invisible at that
angle. C'mon Mulder, nobody took that long to pee. Just before going
to bed, he'd spent about an hour in the bathroom with a fist full of
magazines, so it wasn't that.
The wind dropped away entirely for a moment and she now consciously
tried not to listen to anything that might hint at what he was doing.
Never having tried not to listen to something before, every creak and
noise rang at about 400 decibels. Her own breathing came in deep
pants as she kept inhaling a breathe and holding it, worried she
would hear him, worried he would hear her and know she was listening. 
She was not listening! 
She was not thinking! 
She willed her iron self control to come into effect until she heard
a soft groan from the bathroom. Grow up Dana! I'm not hearing
anything, it's just the wind. It might have the identical timbre to
his voice, but it was just the wind. 
Suddenly, completely unbidden, came a graphic visualisation of
exactly what he was doing. Scully had managed to suppress such
visions before. Even when they shared adjoining hotel rooms and she
heard snatches of his adult channel viewing, she'd dismissed it as a
typical Mulder self indulgence, knowing that it was mostly designed
to keep the nightmares at bay. What form that stress management took
had never before displayed itself to her imagination in full living
colour. 
Not until now.
Maybe it was because this time it was live, well at least a live
repetitive image behind her eyeballs, and came complete with sound?
Waves of heat spanned south from her stomach, spreading through her
thighs.
Angry beyond all reason at the unbidden images and her body's
betrayal Scully wanted to toss the stifling bedcovers to the floor.
But he might hear. 
So what if he does? I'm not doing anything wrong! Scully was
seriously pissed off now. He had no right to make her body feel like
this. She was very clear about that distinction. It was her body
feeling like this, not her! Then she heard him groan again, only it
was more of a moan and her thighs moistened of their own accord and
images of his hand pushing down on himself as he walked by... 
Rationalise.
Rationalise!
His hand movement was an automatic gesture, like scratching.
He watched skin flicks, he savored porn magazines...what for?
Intellectually she knew that Mulder chose such diversions rather than
involve himself in real liaisons. He might ogle, even flirt, with
every pretty woman he came into contact with. Sometimes he acted like
a hormonal adolescent, panting over the Bambi's and Detective Whites
of the world. But Scully knew he was basically harmless. His porn
tastes, at least the ones she'd inadvertently come across, though
inventive were pretty much mainstream, no seriously twisted kinks. He
needed to relieve himself of stress, to wake after nightmares and
watch something mindlessly fundamental. So whatever he was doing in
that bathroom (unbidden image) - Scully grimaced and clamped self
control over her mind's eye again - it was no different to what he
must do at home and in a hundred hotel rooms (unbidden image again,
various backgrounds). No doubt he'd come across a magazine in
Forrester's collection and had taken it in there that afternoon. He
would not have been embarrassed if she'd seen it, after all, this was
Forrester's lodge. Even so Mulder had never hidden them from Scully
before. 
Why was that?
Oh yeah, something about friendship.
But Jesus there are some things even friends didn't need to know
about!
So he got up and went into the bathroom instead of doing it in bed
next to her. 
C'mon Dana, he would never have done that! Mulder would never
belittle her like that.
So what does she think he was doing now? Wasn't it belittling?
No!
Goddamit he's a normal healthy man who's woken up with a hard on. It
would have been compounded by sleeping next to a woman, someone whom
he deeply cared for, someone whom he had once reached to kiss, except
for that bee (she'd never been able to eat honey since), someone whom
she knew he loved, as a friend... Goddammit! 
It was just a response, hormonal, just like her response now. What
was he supposed to do, take it outside in the blizzard? Ignore it
until morning when it would be impossible to hide from her? Jesus
he'd never flaunted it. Over the years when their situation had made
in impossible to hide, Doctor Scully made damned certain she ignored
it. No pretence, no snicker, no 'Hey what's in the pocket, partner?',
just plain old ignored it, like morning halitosis or flatulence.
Jesus, why did they have to be on top of each other so much? They
spent more time sharing hotels and tents and...and..cabins for God's
sake than people who shared apartments! If the damned FBI budget
wasn't so miserly when it came to accommodation it might make
following their protocol's a little easier. This was no different to
any other time, Scully rationalised. It was very clear he did the
right, the natural thing. He's simply...scratching the itch. Like
brushing his teeth to get rid of morning breath. It didn't mean he
really wanted to sleep...no, no, inappropriate term...have sex with
her, he was probably staring at the centerfold right now.
She kicked off the covers, it was impossible to breathe! She lay in
the dark, burning in the frigid air. The wind dropped and died
completely and she heard a long, low, soft moan punctuated by the
whisper of her name.
Again, ever so softly, like in a dream "Scullyyyy..."
Oh God this is not happening!
"Ahhhh...Sculleee!" So soft, like a lover's whisper, it would have
been impossible to hear if the wind had not suddenly dropped
altogether, if the door had stayed closed, if she had stayed asleep.
But as he let out a last shuddering sigh, Scully could only focus on
the fact that he had called her name. 
Wake up Dana!
She mentally slapped herself. How many times had she woken up wet
from a dream - a dream that featured her partner as they key
perpetrator?
Okay, she managed to forget them, deliberately, but what about the
night he'd taught her to play baseball? Mm, Dana, what about that,
huh? The feel of his body pressed to hers, the swing of his hips
moving gently against hers. The unavoidable feel of his maleness
pressed softly against her back. She told herself it was just the
thickness of his trouser's zipper, but her body knew better. It was
by no means even a half mast erection, but it was...well...it
was...there. And since then when she felt his hand pressed to her
lower back, her body remembered the night they'd played baseball.
Jesus, she now had to avoid the sports section in Department Store's
because the smell of horsehide was enough to wet her. Doctor Scully
M.D. could not sustain such unwanted, unwarranted distractions.
She strongly resented those dreams and allusions for they intruded on
her safe perception of their relationship. The day after the baseball
incident she'd been restless and snappy, especially with him. They
could ill afford to have that in their work together, it was
adolescent behavior at best.
Oh hell, he's coming out of he bathroom.
Scully pretended sleep, slow breathing, quick - eyes closed. But she
could smell him leaning over her, smell his muskiness. Scully let out
an involuntary shiver, but didn't flinch when he tucked her wayward
hair behind her ear. His hand brushed against her cheek and she felt
the eiderdown lifted and tucked around her chin tenderly. His hand
brushed her cheek once more. She could feel him standing over her,
looking at her, for what seemed like hours. 
How long had he stood over her Christmas Eve?
Scully finally relaxed when she felt him getting into bed. His hand
reached across to touch her, but she would not flinch, could not
flinch in case he realised she as awake. She felt like a rabbit
cornered by a fox. Scully mentally groaned and stayed wide awake
until the dawn light finally...
Clomp!
Scully's eyes shot open, her heart thumping wildly. She sat bolt
upright in the bed and stared at the cinders climbing into the
chimney. The huge log Mulder had stood upright in the fire the
previous evening had burned through and finally fallen over. It was
fully daylight now. Scully realised her bladder was bursting so she
pulled back the covers and went to the bathroom. 
The door was closed. Scully opened it and closed it behind her, her
desire to take the pressure off her bladder so great, she did not
latch it. The door stayed closed anyway. Scully sat on the toilet
then suddenly froze, getting up swiftly and looking at the toilet
seat. 
It had been down. 
Scully sat there for a very long time, weighing the evidence.
When she was finished she left the bathroom and tested the door
again. No matter what angle she closed it, how many inches gap
remained, it neither swung open or closed.
Scully stared at Mulder, frowning. He was waking up.
"Mmm...what's the weather like, still blizzarding?" He leaped out of
bed in his usual long legged slightly hyperactive manner. 
What did she mean, 'usual', how many nights had they shared a room or
a bed that she was accustomed to that?
What was he doing with black sweats on? He had gone to bed in black
sweats. But she saw him get out of bed earlier in black shorts and
white t. shirt.
Mulder had complained that Forrester owned no shorts. Mulder's own
gray short were still hanging on the bathroom rail.
The evidence was conclusive. 
She had been dreaming. 
Scully turned her back and sighed loudly.
"Hey, you okay?" He touched her on the shoulder.
"I'm fine Mulder ...I'm just...fine!" and she gave him a vacuous
smile.
It had been a dream.
It had been her dream, absolutely nothing to do with him.
It was her problem and she could easily deal with it by ignoring it.
He looked at her in confusion, jiggling from one foot to the other,
his hands in his pockets holding the front part of his trousers away
from his body.
"Really, I'm great. Just a bit restless, that's all." Just a bit "Why
are you bouncing around? You look like you need a run."
He gave her a 'yeah, right' look and pulling his hands up, he grabbed
her shoulders, moved her out of the bathroom doorway, entered and
quickly closed and latched the door. Scully could hear him relieving
himself. It seemed to take forever but this time, Scully laughed at
herself. God why did men have to have so much larger bladders than
women?
It had been just a dream. 
Scully had promised herself after the baseball incident that she
would never again take her frustration's out on him. She was so
relieved by the realisation it was just a dream, she decided to
rummage through the kitchen and make her partner a cooked breakfast
again.
=A0
"Hey, Scully, are you going to cook like this for me from now on?"
"Nope."
""Ah, c'mon why not?"
"Because whenever you're over, I'm too busy finishing up your
paperwork?"
Mulder was about to reply when he heard a soft thump thump in the
distance.
End part 5

HUMAN AFFAIRS PART 6/7
CHAPTER 16
LOCHMEADE CASTLE NORTHERN ENGLAND
28th DECEMBER 1999 
=A0
Mulder dropped his fork and raced out of the cabin, grabbing a jacket
on the way. Scully followed after she'd donned her boots and jacket.
He turned to her with a big grin, then worked his way through thigh
deep snowdrifts, passed the trees and down to the clearing. The storm
had cleared leaving behind a dark slate cloud cover. The loch was
completely iced over and covered in a layer of snow. Mulder thought
he should check it out and signal the machine the safest place to put
down. Dale would be pissed enough about the launch, but a drowned
helicopter would put a really bad dent in his insurance premiums. 
He looked up and saw the pilot signaling him out of the way. Mulder
stepped well back, the pilot clearly knew exactly how much space he
had. Snow flew in every direction, sending violent flurries over
Mulder's retreating form. By the time the machine landed, Scully had
joined her partner on the beach.
Dale rushed from the machine and ran to Mulder. The two men embraced,
Dale's face lit in unadulterated joy. Then he turned his attention to
Scully, lifting her from her feet and swinging her around. She
squealed in almost school girlish delight.
"Ah my lovely Dana! You managed to save this poor bastard's life once
again!" Dale motioned to Mulder. "Good God old boy, you gave us all
heart failure! You do realise that, don't you! The whole bloody
village is out searching."
"What made you pick here?" Mulder asked. 
"Well it was here or nothing old son, wasn't it?" Dale asked more
lightly, but the look in his eyes conveyed his feelings. "Sergeant
Bronin managed to catch up with a rather talkative chappie from
Lochabee. I suppose you came across the other two?" The three of them
made their way back to the cabin as the pilot radioed the missing
Agents had been located.
"Yeah, but I don't think you'll recover them. If my memory is correct
this part of the loch is pretty deep."
"Not to mention a complex bottom terrain, masses of underwater
caverns and what not. I gather this has something to do with no
launch."
"Maybe you can sue Lochabee for a new one.'
"I and the government will be pursuing a great deal more. This
blizzard has put a bit of a dampener on things, blacked out whole
parts of the northern country, but we've managed to piece a few
things together and they won't get away with platitudes and promises
this time. Look, leave your stuff in the cabin and I'll get people
down here to clean up later and bring your things back. Get in the
machine and we'll get you home to a nice cozy bed."
"We'll need a doctor." Mulder said.
Dale glanced over his shoulder to Scully. Her face showed signs of
frostbite and she was pale with dark shadows under her eyes. 
"Mulder, I'm fine." 
"I think he should take a look at that cut, it may still need to be
stitched."
Scully waved her hands resignedly as they got into the machine.
=A0
"Well, old chap," Dale stood by the library fire as Mulder reclined
in one of the armchairs, sipping tea. "If I'd been locked in a cabin
with the lovely Dana for three nights, I'm afraid my sense of
chivalry would have evaporated."
Mulder smiled grimly "Sorry about your launch."
"Don't give it a moment's thought...and don't dissemble, I've known
you far too long."
Mulder sighed. "She's my partner, Dale. Look, three days cooped up in
there was frustrating the hell out of me."
"I can well believe that if you still treated her like a partner!"
Mulder refused to bite "You know what I mean. So how did Bronin catch
two of them? 
"Correct me if I'm wrong, but did you come across five?" Forrester
replied
Mulder nodded.
"One works for GreenPeace. He was a plant, trying to get the dirt on
Lochabee's handling of nuclear waste. Pure good luck, really, that he
was ordered to return to Lochabee rather than down to Patrick's
Point. He was driving through the village and deliberately smashed
his car up a light pole outside the police station. His passenger,
poor chap, died of head injuries. Silly blighter didn't have a seat
belt. But the bloody idiot Bronin took his time deciding our
GreenPeace chappie's story should be acted on. Bronin really must go,
he's just not on the ball at all."
Forrester had displayed one of his rare but memorable outbursts of
rage against the Sergeant. By the time Inspector Wilson arrived and
the full story repeated endless times, it was dusk and the storm
virtually on them. All they could do was arrest the men at Patrick's
landing and wait for the launch. But the launch never came.
"I knew you were resourceful Fox, but I must say I'm impressed with
your dispatchment of the other two."
"Does that mean I get our security bond back on the launch?"
Forrester laughed, "But what's the connection between our mystery and
Lochabee? It really doesn't make any sense. Why would they kill so
many and dump the bodies?"
"Oh Lochabee's guilty as hell all right." Mulder announced "But not
of killing people - at least not these ones."
Forrester frowned "I'm afraid I'm not as bright as you old chap,
paint it in two syllables or less."
"Remember that old joke about a guy sending a telegram to seven of
his friends saying 'Flee, all is discovered?' and six left town? Same
thing." Mulder said between sips.
"So they're up to something that your poking around and asking about
radiation tests will reveal, but in itself has nothing to do with
this case?'
"You got it."
"What's your guess?" Forrester asked after a pause.
"Check all the sites, especially underground caves and I'll bet you
any money Lochabee's storing nuclear waste. They've been trying to
negotiate a deal with the Australians for long term storage in a deep
chamber in the Western Australian desert. Geologically that country
is one of the most stable regions on the planet. Their state
government wants it, but their federal government says no. Some
friends of mine tell me that the project has already gone ahead in
secret. However, about eight years back numerous test cores were
drilled in the areas around here, starting from subterranean caves,
to experiment with different aspects of the storage set up. Remember
some of this stuff has to be kept over 100,000 years before it's
safe. I'm betting they've stashed a little in these local test sites
to monitor over the years. Having young and eager students wandering
around the area with Geiger counters in hand was going to ruin their
day. And since this way out idea came from me, killing me would very
likely kill the problem. So what did they say after they were
captured?"
"The GreenPeace chap said he knew next to nothing. They hired him
because he was big and stayed silent, but had proven he could handle
himself in a bar fight. They'd had him do a few stand over jobs
against his fellow Greenies, but this was the first time he believed
anyone would be killed. That was sufficient to make him blow his
cover.
"The other one was a little more talkative, when Inspector Wilson
arrested him on suspicion of murdering you two. It surprised me
really, that he caved in so fast, but you can never tell about
people. Still, it was not much although there were far greater
problems with the handling of radioactive waste that were commonly
known. And what was known was shoddy enough."
"Remind me to donate something to GreenPeace." Mulder replied.
"I already have." smiled Forrester "Quite a chunk. However I think
they are happier having learned about this. What you say dovetails
nicely into what Wilson managed to pry from your attacker. As we
speak the Board of Directors and chief research staff are being
arrested. I doubt they shall have a happy New Year."
"I'll do up a report on my findings this afternoon and get it to
Wilson. It hasn't solved our problem though."
At that moment the doctor came into the library and reported on
Scully's condition.
"If you'd managed to get those butterfly bandages on sooner, " he
scowled at Mulder "You would have saved a lot of scarring. But having
checked her over, I suppose one more scar will hardly matter."
Mulder went to object but Dale shook his head surreptitiously.
"She could do with a few more days of rest and a high iron and
potassium diet to make up for that blood loss. I've given her some
vitamin shots. The frostbite is superficial and once the skin peels
from her face, she'll look a bit patchy, but no real damage done. I
understand your hand needs to be looked at."
Mulder did not like this guy's bedside manner "Nope, hand's fine." 
The doctor scowled "Don't be foolish young man, Miss Scully said it
had been bleeding."
"My hand is fine, my own Doctor has already attended to it."
The doctor scowled and glared at Forrester.
"Oh there's a good chap, didn't I tell you that Miss Scully is
actually Doctor Scully? Look," he added as he led the man from the
library. "I've a carton of wool for Sarah to spin..." his voice faded
as he led the Doctor away. Presently, Dale returned. Mulder stood,
wanting to get back upstairs to check his email and catch up on a few
ideas. The Doctor's comments about Scully's scars angered him. Scully
had born no scars until working on the X-files and she damned well
deserved to wear them as badges of honor, something to be proud of,
not ashamed.
But did Scully feel that way? How does a woman feel when her body
bears the permanent reminders of a dozen unpleasant encounters? 
"Don't mind Paul," Forrester said "He's a gruff old bastard but he's
kind at heart. And he's been doing some research for me, about
my...problem." 
Mulder caught his friend's eye and asked the unspoken question.
Forrester grinned "It seems science has progressed far enough to
extract a single sperm from my one remaining nut and viably
impregnate an egg cell. But," he held up his hand as Mulder slowly
smiled and nodded "I'm not rushing into changing my lifestyle, at
least not yet. I'm still having too good a time!" 
But Mulder couldn't keep the smile from his face as he replaced his
teacup and moved to leave. Dale's plane accident and subsequent
mishandling by a female doctor had been a stupid waste. 
Forrester held him gently by the arm and remarked "She's very
different to Phoebe, or Diana. Stronger, more honest." Mulder's face
closed but Forrester added quickly, hoping humor would break the
tension "And she puts up with you old boy. For that alone she should
be awarded sainthood."
Mulder smiled a little stiffly as he left the room. Yeah, she put up
with him and now she had one more scar to prove it.
How many more scars before he killed her?


CHAPTER 17
LOCHMEADE CASTLE NORTHERN ENGLAND
28th DECEMBER 1999 
Scully sat up in bed, reading glasses perched on her nose, tapping
away on her lap top. The purring of the ubiquitous gray cat could no
longer lull her.
"Mulder," she called softly when she heard the door of the suite open.
He stood at the bedroom door and blinked in surprise. Scully was
actually doing as she was told. She was still in bed, but her face
was drawn and pale. As her eyes met his, he knew instantly something
was very wrong. He strode to the bed and sat on the edge.
"Scully, what is it?"
She wordlessly turned the laptop to him, tabbed a key and his eyes
widened as the familiar images of burned bodies filled the screen.
They stared at each other wordlessly for a moment. It took every
ounce of Scully's willpower not to finger the lump in her neck.
"Where?" Mulder asked.
"Everywhere...." Scully's eyes started to look panicky, but she
blinked, grasping madly at her protective walls.
Mulder took the computer from her and scanned the images, then
quickly read the accompanying CNN reports. He handed her back the
computer, strode into the sitting room and turned on the television.
It took him a few minutes to locate CNN and by that time, Scully has
joined him.
"It's been happening since Christmas Day, eighteen different
countries," she said in a low voice, "Probably nothing but follow up
reports today."
Mulder looked at his partner in concern "Eighteen incidences?"
Scully sighed in exasperation "No, eighteen countries, probably fifty
or so incidences in all.... Millennium fever. Mulder there are so
many doomsday cultists out there engaging in mass suicides, these are
just needles in haystacks." But the fear haunted her eyes. Oh God
this was supposed to have been finished at El Rico! They were dead!
Suddenly, it overwhelmed her and she crumpled to the seat with tears
streaming from her eyes. She had denied it, denied him all these
years because she'd been too afraid to believe her world was anything
other than controllable. They'd taken her and they'd taken a part of
her soul, even stealing her immortality with her ova. But she had
gone on, stronger, harder than before. With the power of his
convictions, he had saved her, a dozen times he had saved her and
yet, it was all worthless in the face of this.
Mulder was too intent on the television to notice Scully's sudden
emotional collapse. But as he went to speak, he saw her tiny form,
somehow withered, curled in the chair. His brows knitted and he tried
to see her face, but it was blocked by her hands. Her shoulders shook
as she sobbed quietly. Mulder's heart fell apart into small pieces.
He depended on her strength, her anchorage so much that to see her
lose it like this tore him apart. "Scully, Scully?" He crouched in
front of her and tried to remover her hands, but she just kept
shaking her head. 
But Mulder refused to be pushed aside. He knew what she was going
through. He'd been down the same road of despair in Diane's
apartment, when CGB Spender finally told him the truth.
Scully wanted to fall into her mother's arms and have her say it
would be all right. She just wanted it all to go away. Not for the
first time she wondered if it would have been better to succumb to
the cancer. 
They controlled her. Totally.
It had been the ultimate horror to her psych. Oh she recognised her
control fetish. She feared flying for that very reason. Someone had
her life in their hands and she had no control over it. And someone,
something had placed this....thing in her with absolute power over
her. Simple choices, leave it in and we own you, take it out and you
die. 
Mulder knew. He might be a selfish asshole at times but he was still
a psychologist. He had known since Cassandra had been taken. Scully
lived in terror of losing control, and those bastards controlled her.
He not only lived in terror she would be taken, but he also lived in
hopelessness as he watched stone take the place of her once happy
soul. Day by day she hardened just a little more. Day by day the
smiles disappeared. Day by day her need to control her emotions grew,
as her fear of their control over her mounted. He had watched the
stones crack a little over Christmas, to reveal the carefree girl who
had walked into his office all those years ago. As strong as she was,
Scully was fast headed for an emotional breakdown and that, she would
not tolerate. He knew she would prefer death to that and he lived in
equal terror of the day she chose to have the implant removed.
"Scully...I'm here with you. I won't leave, I won't let it happen to
you like this."
"How are you going to stop it Mulder?" Scully wanted to be angry, but
she was far too exhausted "What, are you gonna put an alarm on me,
like a child monitor? You can't watch me every moment of every day,
Mulder." Although she recognised that's pretty much what he had been
doing these last few years. "You can't..."
"Scully, listen to me. Something is coming and it's going to be soon
now. We both knew that after El Rico. I'm not going to stand here and
make you admit it to me, but you have to admit it to yourself. You
have to let go of your convictions and trust me. Krycek was right,
there's a war raging. I'm not giving up and I'm not letting you go,
do you hear me?" He had lifted her from the seat and somehow managed
to sit himself back down with her in his lap. He stroked her hair as
convulsive sobs wrack her body. "We'll stay together from now until
this finishes and if you start to...wander, I'll be here to catch
you."
They stayed in each other's arms for a long time. Gradually Scully
pulled herself together in time to watch the breaking news. A London
fire, a sports club, flames licking, hoses flashing water and fireman
running. Nothing yet to indicate it was related to other incidents
but their instincts. 
"Mulder...Mulder I want to go there. I need to see it."
His face reflected his helplessness, but he would never consider
denying her this. She needed to be in the thick of it in order to
come to grips with what was happening, in orer to grasp some control
over it. He breathed deeply "I'll call Skinner while you get some
things together. Dale keeps an a apartment in London, we can spend a
few nights there."
She unfurled herself from his arms, but could not meet his eyes. Then
berating herself for being ungracious she glanced at him through
lowered lids and said in a small voice "Thank you Mulder." 
He simply nodded, knowing her thanks were on many levels.


CHAPTER 18
HELICOPTER TRANSIT TO LONDON
28th DECEMBER 1999 
=A0
"What have you got?" He asked through the headset in the helicopter.
They had contacted Scotland Yard and were in transit less then
fifteen minutes after the news broke. On the flight down, Scully
checked attached email reports from Scotland Yard, Quantico and the
Lone Gunmen, the latter of whom were the most informative.
"It's as I suspected, look here," she turned the screen until he
could see two molecular structures and chemical formulas. He frowned,
he was familiar with one, but not the other. "What is it, an enzyme
and a catalyst?"
"Yup, but I've never known that compound to act as a catalyst before.
It works, chemically, but if you look here it doesn't activate with
calcium, hence the skeletons remained untouched. It's extremely fast
acting, but the catalyst seems to have somehow broken down in the
case of the American couple, the Drakes." 
"Then it's not really a catalyst."
"Noo....and yes, there seems to be another factor at play. I'm trying
a simulation using different types and levels of radiation. My guess
at this stage is Lochabee may yet be involved."
"Scully, Lochabee is a red herring, you must know that by now." He
said softly, covering her small hand with his.
"Mulder, I'm not in denial, but I need to...I need to work on
something I can understand, something I can come to grips with. I'm
not refuting the larger picture, I just need to tidy lose ends."
He nodded in understanding. The heavens warred and mortals died for
being messy, failed experiments, or because they would be used to
serve the wrong side. And Scully, with her implant, prevented any
thoughts he might have entertained of aligning with those who might
yet save them all.
As if she had heard his thoughts aloud she replied "Mulder, it is
just a theory. You're right, I have no physical evidence to disprove
your theories, but more importantly, I have none to prove them."
"Expect for everything you've seen, everything that's happened to
you...Ah forget it." Why did he do this? In an unusual moment of
bitterness he snapped "Y'know maybe we should just tape this
particular argument and play it as our wakeup call to get us in the
right frame of mind each morning." But he almost kicked himself as
the words left his mouth. Christ he was an insensitive bastard,
Scully was trying her damnedest to work through her fears by
concentrating on what she did know, what she could do. He had no
right to criticise her for that.
Scully sighed and looked away. "Mulder, I...I'm honestly not trying
to bug you on this. I don't have the answers, but I'm not going to
grasp at the incredible because I lack those answers. You know I
can't do that as a scientist...I need something more than empirical
evidence. And I thought for a while there you actually respected
that."
Mulder turned to look at her pale face. That was the first time
either of them had alluded to what he'd said to her in his hallway
the previous summer. And now they were doing it in the back of a
goddamned helicopter in the way to a charnel house. "Scully, you're
right. It's just...frustrating to watch the physical evidence
disappear into toxic green jello every time we come close. Besides,
what's wrong with empirical evidence? Black holes would never have
been discovered without it!"
He expected her to smile at his lame attempt at humor but she frowned
even more. Looking down at her hands she replied "Empirical evidence
is fine if you want to believe in something. But if it forces you to
question the paradigms by which you live, by which you have been
trained, you need substance. You need enough evidence to totally
debunk all that has gone before. That's one hell of a leap, Mulder.
That sort of thing doesn't happen very often and when it does, it
shakes science to its foundations. Just look what happened to physics
after Einstein came along."
Mulder understood Scullyspeak. What she really meant was that if the
facts terrified the fucking hell out of you, you wanted every bit of
evidence you could to deny, or substantiate those facts. The null
hypothesis, good scientific training, he now knew Scully had come to
believe him, but wild horses and dissolving aliens would not let her
admit it. She needed her philosophical crutch. He just hoped he could
provide her with some worthwhile replacement when the shit hit the
fan and hers and everyone else's crutches were swept away in the face
of a reality too horrifying to contemplate.
And by the events around them it looked like the shit had already let
fly.
"Hey," he grinned lopsidedly. Scully looked up, still frowning, "Ya
wanna go and see some nekid bones? I fixed it to meet Simmons down in
the Museum of Natural Science after we visit the crime scene."
"Simmons, isn't he the one looking after the plesiosaurs?" Scully
visibly brightened. Real live Loch Ness monster bones she was
prepared to believe in, maybe.
"The very same. Are you up to it Scully? I doubt the bodies will be
ready for autopsy until tonight."
=A0
The aircraft landed at Scotland Yard's rooftop helipad. At Mulder's
request Inspector Wilson met the two agents. The Scotland Yard
detective had at first refuted any suggestion of a connection between
the dumped bodies and the Club house fire, but Mulder was insistent.
And it was on the way to the latest immolation, a good forty minute's
drive away, that Mulder told the Inspector a story of a war between
worlds.
"So you see, Inspector, why I was less than forthcoming at Loch
Meade." Mulder smiled self deprecatingly, knowing the Scotland Yard
man viewed him as some sort of crank "But I'm afraid there will be
many more instances of this until....well, I'm not privy to the set
date. That was one piece of information that black lunged bastard
failed to reveal."
Scully took her partner's hand in mutual support. She had never heard
it as a linear tale before, and especially not when listening with an
open mind. It had always only come in frustrating patches, like an
infinite jigsaw puzzle. She was still unwilling to admit conversion
to his ideas, but she could now admit the pattern. 
Walters did not fail to see Scully's gesture and he wondered once
again if the two agents were lovers. But he dismissed the notion. If
they were, they would carefully hide such intimacies in public. No,
not lovers, but...something far greater. These two must have lived
one hell of a life if a fraction of what Mulder said was true.
"Inspector," Mulder continued "You will find nothing to substantiate
my claims. In fact from what you tell me, we are right about this
fire and you will find no traces of an accelerant. Throughout, like
the disappearing bodies at Loch Meade, it is the absence of evidence
you need consider."
As much as Walters wished he could dismiss the American's tale as a
fanciful joke, something in him, some gut instinct warned him not to.
"Run a background check on the dead. I think you'll find them to be
members of Mufon, or at least multiple abductees."
"So you expect more of this sort of thing? Christ we're already run
ragged with bloody cultists and end of the word doom sayers. I wish
to God we could get into the new millennium without all this crap."
Scully sighed, not wishing to sound pedantic. It mattered little.
Regardless of the mathematics, most people viewed the coming Friday
to be *the* date despite the actual millennium was still twelve
months away. If there was anyone left to celebrate in twelve
months....
Mulder asked how she felt as they left the vehicle and stepped
beneath the crime scene tape. For a rare moment she answered honestly
"I'm fine, Mulder. In fact I'm surprised how good I do feel. You're
bandaging wasn't bad."
He had meant how she felt in other ways, but that she had answered
him at all was a start "Ah, Scully," he whispered into her hair "I
was top of the class in bondage."
They made their way past the familiar surrealism of a bad crime
scene. Flashing blue and white lights cut a path through their eyes.
Broken glass, scorched timber and puddles of water beginning to
freeze. Two red fire trucks remained, with assorted black and white
cars. Television camera's perched like carrion birds atop film
trucks. Yellow and black body bags were being unfolded while camera
flashes shot in the distance. 
Scully remained professionally aloof, despite the charred smell. The
agents noticed a number of the clean up crew wearing face masks. It
was Mulder's misfortune that his eidetic memory stretched to both
aural and olfactory senses as well as visual. He silently grimaced,
recalling his terror while trying to locate Scully on the bridge at
Ruskin Dam. Recalling his agony at the sight of a dead redheaded
woman. Recalling almost physically collapsing when he learned she was
alive. 
No-one here had survived. Unlike other occasions the massacre was
complete, with considerable fire damage to the structure. Scully took
Mulder to one side. They had both noticed people at the scene who
looked too well groomed for police or forensics.
"Mulder, can you give me a hand with this? I can see at least half a
dozen bodies with cranial cavities and spinal cords partially
exposed. If we can locate some with implants..." He nodded in
understanding. Scully may not be in complete agreeance with him, but
she understood the stakes and wanted, needed more than he to locate
hard evidence. Once the bodies were out of sight, any implants might
conveniently disappear on the way to the morgue.
Scully snapped on her gloves, but Mulder had difficulty using his
right hand so she proceeded to roll the latex over his fingers as he
stood passively. Despite the surrounding horror, her closeness and
gentle actions were somehow sensual and he found himself becoming
aroused. 
She had the rubber half way down his fingers and wanted him to jiggle
them. "C'mon Mulder, push it in a little." 
Mulder groaned at her unintentional double entendre and he looked
away, unwilling to make a ribald comment in view of her recent state
of mind. Scully immediately realised what was wrong. Suddenly, the
whole scenario was so inappropriate, so improbable that she actually
chuckled and decided to tease him. "What's wrong Mulder, been a while
since you snapped on the latex?"
"Even longer since someone snapped it on for me. Not," he added
hastily, "That I'm complaining."
Scully couldn't keep the smirk off her face "Just wiggle your fingers
to get it in." She deliberately ran her small, strong fingers down
each of his latex covered ones in a gesture that resulted in Mulder's
pants bulging. "Okay, now the other hand."
He moved restlessly and kept looking over her shoulder, pretending to
watch the grisly scene. He was disgusted with himself. How could he
possibly get a respectable hard on in the face of such appalling
death? But he quickly justified his reactions with the knowledge that
every forensic pathologist he knew had a wicked sense of morgue
humor. "C'mon Scully, it will all be over with by the time you get it
on."
"That's right you did say you were fast, didn't you?"
He snapped his eyes back to his partner. Surely she wasn't..? But he
noticed the tiny grin pulling at her lips as she sensuously caressed
the latex over his still bandaged fingers. "I tell you what, Scully,"
he said in a low growl "Promise me you'll do it again tonight and
I'll be as slow as you want."
God, she should have known better than to goad him, but she hit him
with a parting shot. Stretching up on tiptoes to speak, he
automatically leaned down and turned his head slightly to hear her
whisper "Mulder, button your overcoat until you get it under control."
He found himself gawking after her retreating back. She had noticed.
Christ, how many other times had she noticed? He shook it off and
held his coat close to his body as he went to examine the first
corpse.
A short time later Scully extracted an implant from the first victim.
"Inspector?" She called to Walters as she stood, tweezers in hand.
The Scotland Yard detective excused himself from the fire chief and
made his way across the smoking remains. He frowned as he approached,
wishing it had not begun to snow. From the corner of his eye he
noticed Mulder standing up, holding something in his hands as well,
Scully held the object up to Walters and dropped it into the gloved
mans hands. As she spoke, her partner joined her and proffered a much
smaller object.
Motioning to her find she stated "Inspector, this is a nasal implant
located in the pharyngeal cavity. The one Agent Mulder extracted was
a subcutanous implant at the base of the neck. I doubt you will find
a pharyngeal one in every victim, it is more likely to find a smaller
neck implants, however many of these remains are too badly burned.
I'd like to either assist in the autopsies or at the very least, make
a recommendation for the pathologists to look for similar implants in
the deceased."
Walters took the crisped object from Scully "What is it?"
"A tracking device, a controlling device too, as far as we can tell.
Very likely used to gather people to one location for easier
transport. Inspector, you will not find the technology to understand
what these things are. That lack of understanding is like lack of
proof, it becomes proof in itself."
"Then how the bloody hell are we going to stop it happening again?"
Scully and Mulder looked at each other. Her eyes shone fiercely in
the gloomy afternoon light, but he could see the courage in them as
she placed all of her trust in him. "The only possible way,
Inspector," Scully said quietly, "Is to locate every member of Mufon,
every person who has ever claimed to be abduced and make certain they
are monitored 24 hour a day. When the compulsion comes for them to
gather together comes, they have no warning, no knowledge. If we can
keep them from gathering in one place, you may be able to save them."
"But for how long?" Walters asked.
Mulder looked at Scully with a lighter heart. She had finally
accepted the truth. He turned to the inspector and said "I don't
think it will be for long. I think time is fast running out."

Their Museum visit revealed nothing new, but it was a pleasant
contrast to the gruesome afternoon. Mulder wished they had the time
to shower and change first. The smell of death and fire lingered in
his nostrils. In a sudden mental whimsy he wondered if snuff taking
might come back into vogue.
It intrigued and satisfied their mutual curiosities to see the
incredible size and complexity of the plesiosaur skeletons. Simmons
was as proud of them as a new mother, especially of the one almost
complete unit. His only disappointment was that until the question of
age and the reason for its location at Loch Meade could be completely
clarified, no self respecting journal would publish their findings.
All the evidence to date indicated that the bones were from an animal
that had died in the same place and about the same time, as the
humans who had accompanied it. 
Although Mulder now believed the animals were modern refuse from a
failed alien experiment and thus proof that plesiosaurs lived in
modern times, Scully sided with Simmons.
"There's a reason why journals don't publish without certain
parameters being met." Simmons told them "Look at Piltdown man and
the now successfully debunked photos of Nessie."
"Weren't those the ones taken by a doctor?" Scully asked as Simmons
showed her the famous neck out of the water Loch Ness photos.
"Yes, but he confessed in 1998 that he'd faked the whole thing. And
if you remember, these specific photos started the whole modern myth.
Oh to be sure, sightings have been recorded for centuries, but this
one photo initiated a search over decades that cost, in the end,
hundreds of millions of pounds. No, journals do not publish without
carefully examining the data, for very good reasons."
They spent the remainder of the afternoon learning what
paleontologists presumed was the possible lifecycle and habits of
plesiosaurs. Neither of them felt it had any real bearing in the
events unfolding around them, but it was a pleasant break.
The following day was simply slog work; background checks and
forensic evidence. It was boring, repetitive work. But it was work
they were accustomed to. People generally thought catching criminals
was glamorous, most particularly the chase and final capture. But
aliens and mutants, serial killers and conspiracies were neither
glamorous nor exciting. The real work was what they achieved behind a
computer, in front of a microscope. Here were the great discoveries,
the excitement, the glamour, but only after, if they were lucky,
hundreds of ours of slog work. In this instance, they learned nothing
new except that every one of the twenty eight deceased in Sports Club
fire, had implants of some sort in their bodies. 
=A0


CHAPTER 19
LONDON
29th DECEMBER 1999 
Over the next twenty four hours, three more incidences occurred in
England and thirty eight worldwide. Most news reports considered it
to be the expected frenzy leading up to the end of the year, now only
fifty two hours away. Mulder and Scully took the helicopter back to
Loch Mead and from there, examined yet another disappearing body
dumping and two more fires around Edinburgh.
Mulder had refused to let Scully out of his sight and had even gone
so far to locking the dead bolts on the doors and removing the keys.
If Scully fell under some compulsion to leave, she had to go through
him first.
By the time they finally returned to the Castle, Scully wanted
nothing more than a hot bath, good meal and early night. The tragedy
unfolding before them and their frustration's trying to convince
anyone that some people might yet be saved if they could just be
located and protected had not left them unmoved. For once, Scully was
in complete understanding of the years of frustrations her partner
had suffered. And yet because they were in a strange sort of accord,
the agents felt oddly buoyed.
Scully threw her coat onto the bed and thanked Sally for drawing her
a bath. Mulder insisted on letting her go first and settled down to
check his email.
"Hello...puss. Mulder, do you know what this cat's name is?" 
"What cat?" he called from the other room.
"The gray one, the one that's adopted me."
His voice changed timbre as he came into her room "I've never seen a
cat..." He stopped as he noticed the large smoky gray Burmese curled
up on the far side of Scully's bed. As if the animal knew it was
being discussed, it raised its head and blinked at them with the most
extraordinary yellow eyes. In typical cat fashion, it yawned a
delicate wide pink mouth and stretched out one clawed foot before
feigning indifference and returning to sleep.
Oh. 
"Oh, that cat." A slow smile spread across his eyes and touched the
corner of his mouth. Mulder owned the best poker face in town and he
knew it, but this was simply too good and he couldn't control it. He
idly wondered how long he could drag it out. "That's Maurice."
"Odd name for a cat."
"No, no in fact it's surprisingly appropriate."
Scully looked at him in mute question as she removed her boots and
socks. Mulder's face shrugged. 
"So what is he, a castle fixture or family pet?" If Mulder knew that
cat's name, then the animal had to be at least eleven years old. Not
ancient but getting there. Yet this animal looked young and healthy.
Scully had noticed the clear pink throat and fine white cat teeth as
it yawned.
"I'd definitely categorise him as a castle fixture. He seems to have
taken a liking to you."
"He sleeps with me every night."
"Hey, Maurice, what's the trick? I've been trying for years." Mulder
whispered loudly to the cat.
Scully turned on her 'I am an FBI person I am not a woman'
countenance "In your dreams, Mulder."
"Regularly, Scully." 
To her horror, memories of the night in the cabin came gushing back
and Scully found herself blushing. She turned quickly into the
bathroom but not before Mulder had caught sight of her reddened
cheeks. He smirked, that was her second blush this week. And there
was still the cat. Oh he was definitely having a good time tonight.
"Don't start with me, Mulder." Scully shouted from the bathroom as
she closed the door
"What?" Mulder replied with a grin, knowing she would refuse
conversation while she rested in her bath.
Mulder checked the email and turned on CNN, shaking his head at the
ongoing pre-Millennium hysteria. Thankfully, he detected no new
reports that he could ascribe to alien massacres. When he heard
Scully open the bathroom door to her room, he stood up and locked
their sitting room door and pocketed the key. He double checked the
French windows, secure in the knowledge that Scully could not esacpe.
Even so, he showered in record time, insisting on leaving the door
open and making sure he could see her while he shaved. He knew Scully
would quickly balk at his overprotectionism, but he also knew she was
pretty spooked by the deaths perpetrated by the faceless aliens. 
And he was under no illusions that somthing big would break in the
next few days.
When they were ready for dinner, Scully went to her bedroom to
retrieve her coat. Maurice had, in typical cat fashion, decided it
made a better bed than the plush eiderdown. Scully was about to shoo
him off when he chose to move of his own accord. She picked up the
coat and held it up into the light to brush away the inevitable furs.
But as much as she held it back and forth, not one gray filament
could be seen. 
"A cat that doesn't molt, he's better trained that you, Mulder."
"I don't molt in bed either, Scully."
Scully glared at him from lowered eyelids as she walked to the door.
"I'll make a note of that in my field report."
"Do you think that's wise, Scully? Skinner might suspect we've been
consorting. Hell, he might even jump to the conclusion we've slept
together."
Scully frowned, how far was he going to push this? "Definitely not an
experience worth writing home about, Mulder, I can assure you."
"Ah, Scully, it wasn't my fault you slept through it." 
"Nothing inspired me to do otherwise, Mulder."
Mulder wore his best hang dog expression, but the sly grin at the
corner of his mouth refused to go away. He pulled the door closed
behind them as they left their rooms, but Scully stopped him "The
French doors are locked, Maurice may want to get out."
"It's not a problem."
"Look Mulder, I know cats. He may like me now but if he's locked in
here without his kitty litter, he's just as likely to take it out on
me first."
"Maurice is not that kinky, Scully."
Scully looked at her partner in exasperation. "You're feeling pretty
chipper tonight Mulder, what gives?"
Mulder replaced his smirk with a totally innocent 'who me?'
expression and insisted on shutting the door.
"Okay, fine, but if he pees in my bed, I get your bed tonight."
"Promises, promises." He smirked as they walked off.
"Alone - you can have mine instead."
"Ah, c'mon, Scully, you know as well as I do I'll keep you warm."
Sally's appearance in the hallway interrupted their banter. 
"Oh, Sally?" Scully asked "We've left Maurice in our rooms, but the
doors are closed, is he able to get out okay?"
At the sound of the cat's name, the girl's eyes widened fractionally.
Standing directly behind Scully, Mulder surreptitiously put his index
finger to his lips. This was priceless, he thought. This was soooo
good he just had to drag it out for a few days.
"Um...yes, ma'am, Maurice can get out of....um, any room."
"Lot's of hidden passageways through this old castle, isn't that
right. Sally?" Mulder added.
"Um, yes, yes Sir."
Scully frowned. She knew she was being left out of the loop here, but
could not for the life of her see what it was. As the maid continued
past them, her curiosity outweighed her need to figure it out for
herself.
"Okay, Mulder, give."
"What?" He had gained complete control of himself now. Oh yeah, he
was going to drag this one out for as long as possible.
"The cat, Mulder, Maurice the cat, what's going on?"
He shook his head, catching his lower lip between his teeth as if he
were distracted by something more important. But his eyes were
whirling the wrong color, Scully decided. 
"Nothing's going on Scully, he's just a bit of a Houdini, that's all."
"Mm." Okay, fine, she'd ask Dale over dinner.

End part 6

HUMAN AFFAIRS PART 7/7
CHAPTER 20
DECEMBER 29TH 1999
LOCHMEADE CASTLE NORTHERN ENGLAND
The early tea was a light hearted affair, once again buoying Scully's
spirits. None but Dale had any idea of the evolving tragedies around
them except for news reports on various television and radio
stations. But such nonsense was a result of Millennium fever, was it
not? It had nothing to do with the residents of this fairy tale
castle.
The children had been promised a trip to the carnival in the village.
Much to their disappointment, Scully begged off going. Mulder looked
at her tired eyes and realised she needed sleep. His partner had been
more restless than usual the previous night. He'd also slept badly,
fearing if he nodded off, Scully might be gone when he awoke. It hit
him then that the two best night's sleep he'd experienced in years
had been in the cabin, wrapped in Scully's arms. He knew all too well
what that meant, but refused to tread those mental roads. The dragons
were still waiting on the sidelines of that map.
Just the three of them remained in the library, Irish coffees in
hand, as they discussed the unfolding events of the previous days.
Dale remained thoughtful but uncommitted, but then with Scully's
reluctant agreement, Mulder informed him of their very real fears for
her.
"Scully, he knows about your implant already, I'm just drawing a line
between the dots." He went on to explain how the implant acted as a
device that would lure her to possible death. It was, as far as he
was concerned just a matter of time. 
As much as she hated her weakness revealed to another, she also
realised Mulder wanted to protect her. He needed to go to Edinburgh
the following day while Scully remained in communication with Skinner
and the Lone Gunmen. They were now racing against time to locate and
inform every known abductee to seek protection. And, Scully admitted
to herself, she herself needed to be protected. 
God when would this all be over? She turned restlessly in her seat
and sipped the large cognac Dale poured, hoping it might inspire
sleep.
Dale sighed loudly and finally replied "Well, Fox old boy, it beats
garden fairies hands down."
Mulder smiled without humor. "Yeah. Uum, have any of the kids
ever...you know..seen anything?"
"Oh yes. I've never told them the story, but they've come back with a
tale or two."
Scully perked up her ears wanting to be sidetracked "What story?"
"You mean you haven't told her?" Dale looked questioningly at Mulder.
"Well...Scully isn't really into that sort of thing."
"Oh come on old chap, Dana works with you, she must be!"
"What story, what sort of thing?" Scully asked in an exasperated
voice, her eyes moving between the two men.
Mulder sighed "All right Scully if you insist. Christmas, 1917. It
was a time of dark, dark despair. British soldiers were dying at an
ungodly rate in a war-torn Europe while at here and at home, a deadly
strain of the flu virus attacked young and old alike. Tragedy was a
visitor on every doorstep while a creeping hopelessness set in with
every man, woman and child. It was a time of dark, dark despair...."
"Mulder," Scully said in a threatening voice "Can't you find a new
prologue? That was last year's and the dark dark despair is getting
to me."
"Oh yeah, I forgot about that. Look, maybe Dale should tell the story
after all, it is his family."
Scully glowered at the two men while Dale repositioned himself on the
leather armchair. "But what Fox says is true. A bleakness had settled
upon the land. My great Uncle had already died tragically of that
dreaded virus. He was but eight years old. His cousin, just a wisp of
a girl at only twelve years, had lost her mother to the same disease
and her father, a soldier fallen on the battlefields of France. The
tragic orphan child was sent from America to live here in this
castle, with my great grandparents and their one remaining child, my
grandmother. 
"Together these young innocents pondered the mysterious fates that
had torn their families apart, but they took solace in their dreams
and fairy tales. For you see, the fairies that live in the glade near
the loch took pity on them and filled their young lives with mystery
and wonder.
"Then one day my great grandfather left his box camera on the kitchen
table and these young innocents thought what wonder they might bring
if they could but capture the beauty of fairies on the wing. And
thus, risking all, they stole away with the camera to the glenn and
took a set of photographs that would soon turn the world on its head.
"This is no idle tale my lovely Dana. This is documented fact. The
fairy photos were published in a local newspaper, although the true
location was kept secret for months. Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, who's
only son had also died in the horror of mud and filth known as
France, was himself buried in a grief that only a parent who has lost
a child can fully comprehend. Like his friend, Harry Houdini, Sir
Arthur had made a career of debunking charlatans and frauds,
hoodwinkers and con men who worked only to defraud the gullible of a
few pennies in order to commute with their dead loved ones. Sir
Arthur did it living in hope he might one day find a true psychic
while Houdini simply could not stand profiteering tricksters. 
"By strange circumstance the two men found themselves at these castle
gates, fairy photos in hand. Harry to gently depose while Sir Arthur
wished for nothing more than to believe in some greater magic, some
hope to save a world almost lost to grief. They brought with them a
new camera provided by Mr Eastman, with new film plates that had
never left their keeping. At first the girls were reluctant to
recapture their friends on film, but they walked with the famed
gentlemen into the woods. They bade the men wait while they skipped
into the glenn. Not half an hour passed before they returned merrily
with their camera in tow, having captured yet more images of true
fairies in flight.
"Houdini and Sir Arthur returned to London with the camera and film
plates never leaving their possession. Despite every effort to do so,
neither they nor Mr Eastman could ever debunk the film. The fairies
wings were translucent, blurred not by bad handling of the camera,
but by motion, by flight. To this day no-one has ever proved the film
was anything but real.
"They say that soon thereafter, on a night when all seemed lost, the
fairies filled the castle and woke the girls and their parents and
all the servants from a deep sleep. They had come to say farewell for
word had finally spread. The fabled glenn and lands about the loch
had become the hunting grounds of careless fairy seekers. But on that
night, as a final parting gift to the innocent girls, they sent home
the lost soldier, father of my grandmother's cousin. As he came
walking proudly to the castle gates the fairies left, promising to
return once more in a time of their choosing." 
Dale sipped his cognac after the story had ended, leaving Scully with
a slight smile on her face. "It's a lovely story Dale."
"And all true." Mulder added "Ask Dale to show you a copy of the
photos tomorrow."
"Mulder...." Scully rolled her skeptical eyes at him.
"Scully, it was World War I. Their idea of photo retouching was
adding tints to lips and cheeks. Remember Eastman and a board of
experts could never debunk the film. Harry Houdini himself verified
its authenticity." But Mulder knew he was fighting a no win battle.
Still, he had Maurice up his sleeve.
He chuckled at that thought and bade Dale a goodnight.


CHAPTER 21
LOCHMEADE CASTLE NORTHERN ENGLAND
DECEMBER 29th 1999 
Maurice was cleaning himself on one of the fireside chairs when they
returned to their rooms. Scully went across to the fire to warm her
hands, absently reaching down to give the cat a stroke.
"I wouldn't do that, if I were you." Mulder spoke quietly but firmly.
Scully raised her eyes to him "Do what?"
"Pet Maurice."
"Why not, does he scratch?" Scully bent to test her theory, fully
prepared to pull back at the first sign of aggression from the
animal. However Maurice had other ideas and hopped from the chair
before Scully could touch him. She went to brush the fur away before
sitting down, but the chair seemed oddly clean. Then she remembered
her coat.
"He's exceptionally clean, Mulder, why should I not pet him?"
"I don't think you'd like your reaction. And Maurice does not molt at
all."
"Mulder, that's nonsense, all animals, all creatures molt to a
greater or lesser degree." Scully was annoyed now. She hated sounding
like a pedant at times but Mulder could be infuriating, even over
something as simple as a cat. If it wasn't so late she'd go back
downstairs and demand an explanation from Dale.
"Not Maurice." Mulder had pulled his lower lip into his mouth in an
effort to stop from grinning.
Scully looked up and her annoyance was fueled by her reaction to his
face. God he looked attractive when he did that. No Dana, be honest,
the description you were seeking was not attractive, it was plain
straight out sexual to the point of distraction. 
Now she was getting seriously angry. "Mulder, I am not going to play
this game. I'm tired and it's late. G'night."
"G'night Scully." Mulder chuckled as he went to lock the doors.
=A0
"Ahhh!" Scully squeaked. She pulled backwards, tripping over her
shoes and landing heavily on her backside. The cut had healed nicely,
but it was still tender and the fall was an unpleasant reminder. But
what was worse was the fact that she actually squealed. A high
pitched girlie squeal.
"What, what is it, Scully are you okay?" Mulder had, or course, come
rushing into her bedroom like an avenging knight.
"I'm fine Mulder, I was just a bit...surprised." Scully stood, the
frown on her forehead deepening as she searched for Maurice. 
"Why, what happened?" But Mulder's voice took on a pinch of mirth as
he looked around and realised Maurice was not perched on Scully's
bed. "Oh..." he chuckled "I told you not to pet him!"
Scully's sore rump had not improved her disposition. "Look Mulder,
nothing happened, I just gave him a pat and he...he...didn't like it
and he...went away."
"Sure, Scully he went away all right." Mulder was no longer trying to
hold in his obvious mirth. He would have liked this to last a few
days but he could no longer contain himself. Besides, Scully was such
a skeptic it might yet take some time to convince her.
At the sight of Mulder's barely contained humor, Scully felt a
childish desire to pound his chest and demand answers. "Mulder, I
swear I'm going to hurt you unless you tell me what's going on!"
He sighed, then took a deep breath to speak and burst out laughing.
He laughed so much Scully wondered what was wrong. But she found
herself grinning in return. It had been a very long time since she'd
seen Mulder indulge a real belly laugh. But her grin evaporated when
he finally replied "I'm sorry Scully, but I ca...I can't tell you!"
And his top teeth now made no pretense in claiming his bottom lip to
clamp his mirth.
Oh god, this was utterly priceless!
"Mulder, " Scully was seriously infuriated now, this was ridiculous
"Mulder! If you don't tell me so help me I'll..!"
He finally raised his hand in supplication. "Okay, okay, but I'm
warning you Agent Scully, you ain't gonna like it." 
They both caught sight of Maurice as he padded across the bedroom
floor and leaped back on to Scully's bed.
"Okay Agent Scully, you're about to get a lesson in the value of
purely empirical evidence. Unfortunately for your peace of mind, no
hard, tangible evidence other than your own eyes will be available to
the prosecution. Ya better sit down, Scully, before I tell you."
Scully just glared at him.
"Okay, well go sit near Maurice and pet him again. But this time,
watch what you're doing. He won't hurt you, although he won't play
the game too often before he'll disappear for the night. I know, I've
been there."
Scully continued to glower but she climbed up onto the bed and
reached over to pet Maurice. She lost her balance slightly as her
hand, instead of stopping on the small animal's head, passed straight
through into the body and beyond to the bedspread below. 
Scully blinked and nodded her head forward. Her mouth opened in shock.
"Mulder...?"
"Yes Agent Scully?" Mulder folded his arms across his body and leaned
against a bedpost, tears of mirth desperately trying not to fall onto
is cheeks.
"What just happened?" Her eyes were wide and round.
"Oh, you have to tell me. But I'll make it easy. Maurice will come
back in a sec and you can try it again."
Scully just stared at her hand and the vacated spot on the bed. Less
than thirty seconds passed when the lithe gray animal leaped
effortlessly onto covers and came across to sit near Scully. He
turned his amazing yellow eyes to her, but did not lay down. He just
sat, waiting expectantly.
"Go ahead, Scully. He knows the drill. He won't settle down again now
until you've figured it out or he gets bored and wanders off."
Every instinct in Scully baulked at touching the animal. To do so
would be to prove something she had no desire to bear witness too.
But she couldn't help herself. As she tentatively reached out her
hand the cat twitched an ear and she involuntarily pulled back.
Mulder's vain attempt to control his laughter fueled her willpower.
Scully put her hand to the cat's head...through the cat's head. Then
she recalled why she had squealed the first time, the sudden drop in
temperature. Her hand passed down through the body but by the time it
had reached the bed, Maurice had faded away like the smoky color that
he was.
"Okay, Scully, you can say it now."
But she would not give him that satisfaction. 
"That's okay, " he smirked, "I know you don't believe in ghosts,
especially ones named Maurice."
"Mulder that is the most ridic..'
"Well then what is it?" He shot back "Maurice has inhabited this
castle for over two hundred years. He's been seen by all the family,
right down to the toddlers, and they all love him. I mean think on it
Scully, he's the perfect pet. He doesn't eat or drink, doesn't shed
hair or stink out the place with kitty litter."
"Mulder there are no such things as ghosts and...even if...even if
there were...there would most certainly be no such things as ghost
animals!" 
Oh well done Dana! He's going to have you on that for the next twelve
months! She scowled and curled her lip in frustration at her own
stupidity. And Mulder, damn him, had to hang on to the bed post as he
laughed fit to bust.
"Oh, right! Brilliant deduction Watson! And what hard evidence do you
have to back up that piece of philosophy?"
Scully could only sit there in frustration and scowl. God did he have
to look so damned edible when he did that? Scully scrunched her eyes
closed trying to drive her conflicting emotions and excessive alcohol
away. It didn't help that he'd now fallen on to the bed and was
calling to the cat.
"Hey, Maurice, you hear that? Not only can you not exist as a ghost,
you are most definitely not allowed because you're an animal!"
Maurice opened his mouth in an amused yawn and blinked his golden
eyes between them.
Scully shook her head, her own deeply buried sense of humor starting
to surface.
"Mulder get the hell of my bed and take that damned...cat with you!"
"Oh no, Scully, this is too good! I want your scientific explanation
for this one. I hold you to account on two points. What evidence can
you provide that Maurice is not a ghost. And two, as a self confessed
disbeliever in such phenomena, how can you make that prejudicial
statement regarding his immortal soul?"
"Animals don't have souls, Mulder."
"Ah, that's a well known and documented fact, eh Scully?" 
But his words fell on deaf ears as Scully scoured the room for
miniature cameras. This had to be some sort of joke, some holographic
projection. Maurice and Mulder sat on the bed, resting on the
respective paws and fore arms, watching Scully as she systematically
pulled the bedroom apart. 
"Okay, Mulder, fun's over." But as she turned to demand a real
explanation she saw Mulder grin at Maurice who, in turn, winked back.
No, no Dana you did not see that cat wink. He did not wink at Mulder.
No, no, no, no , no no! She was tired, too much to drink. Yep, that
was it.
"Mulder." He raised his eyebrows receptively.,
"Get the hell of my bed and take...Maurice with you!" Mulder knew
that tone of voice all too well and decided the game was finished, at
least for the night. 
"C'mon Maurice, if I were you I wouldn't stay just in case Dr. Scully
decides to perform an empirical exorcism."
Maurice stood from the bed and followed Mulder from the room as if he
had heard. Scully followed them both to the door then shut it
politely, but firmly. But when she turned back Maurice had reappeared
on her bed again.
"Mulder! Get in here!" Scully grabbed the door handle and opened it
so fast it slammed against the floor stop and bounced back to hit
Mulder on the face.
He turned to look his incensed partner, rubbing his face but unable
to keep from grinning. Scully stormed passed him and into Mulder's
room, slamming his door behind her. 
"You sleep in that room tonight Mulder!" Scully shouted from behind
the door.
CHAPTER 22 
LOCHMEADE CASTLE NORTHERN ENGLAND
3Oth DECEMBER 1999
=A0
Scully had just removed her glasses when she heard a knock at the
door. Presuming it was a maid she called "Come in."
Dale unlocked the door from the outside, Scully having freely
volunteered to remain locked in. He poked his head around the door
with big grin on his face "Ah ha! The lovely Dana...still worrying
when I think sleep would have been in order," he shook his head as he
entered the room "All work and no play cannot possibly make you as
dull as Fox but I'm here to make certain it doesn't."
Scully couldn't help but smile. She had already felt herself slip
past the point of physical attraction to him. His charm and
irreverent wit had, the past few days, turned from sensuality to
friendship. Scully was pleased, his friendship was far more important
than any vague need to feed physical desires she had long since
learned to suppress. His actions seemed to reflect that and they had
fallen into an easy banter. So she was a little surprised at his
invitation.
Mulder had left for Edinburgh a few hours before. He promised he
would be back before dark and for once Scully believed him. They had
spent a frightening, frustrating morning on line with Mufon groups,
warning members the possible consequences to prior abductees of being
left alone. But as the hours counted down to the new year, the number
of suicides and cult deaths continued to climb. Self immolation
seemed to be a favored tool. But it was not difficult to distinguish
cult suicides from...this thing that Scully still could not fully
admit to. 
Whatever it was, another eight events had resulted in the deaths of
more than two hundred in four countries the previous night alone. And
still the press had no idea, no idea at all Scully mused... It was
coming. Soon now, very soon. She could almost feel it. 
"Dana, my dear Dana, I have a carriage awaiting your presence. Now
you must come because it's not every day you can go on a sleigh ride
in a forest made gentle by the snow. I insist that you repay my
hospitality with your company before it gets dark.
Scully had been ready for a break, her head was stuffed with too much
and she needed to run a few ideas past her partner's quick mind.
"A sleigh ride?"
"Of course! The entire family have been riding around all day, the
children wondering where the lovely Miss Scully might be...and," he
leaned forward and lowered his voice "You realise you are their hero!
The boys particularly are all madly in love with you. Not only do you
survive blizzards and life threatening injury's, you kill bad men and
carry a real live gun! You shall forever serve as their role model!"
Dana blinked in surprise "It was Mulder who..."
"Oh come now Dana, Fox's sole purpose in life is to serve as a
warning to others." 
Scully chuckled at that and allowed him to coax her from the room.
Three of the boys stood outside. With big grins on their faces they
begged her to come for a sleigh ride. The warm memories of Christmas
morning with the children flooded back, pushing in its wake her
spiritual tiredness. 
"Now Dana, they have a surprise waiting for you." Dale whispered. One
of the boys took her hands and led her down the stairway. At the
bottom, Scott and Maggie handed Scully a box, almost identical to the
one Dale had given her for Christmas. Scully smiled at them all, then
sat on the bottom stair as the children swarmed around. On opening
her gift, she was moved almost to tears when she saw a replacement
for her lost jumper. 
Scully hugged each of the children in turn and thanked them, her eyes
never leaving Dale. Had she really put her attraction to him past her?
"Children, children?" One of the nannies's came into the foyer and
began ushering them to the bathroom to wash before tea. The nanny was
greeted by strong objections from all, they had wanted to go for a
sleigh ride with Dana. 
Scully marveled at the inherent politeness of the children. Despite
their objections, they soon submitted to the gentle authority of the
Nanny, leaving her alone with Dale.
"Come," he held his hand to her, "It will be dark in an hour or two
and a sleigh ride at sunset is not to be missed."
They sat in quiet companionship for a ways, Dale leading a fresh team
of horses expertly through the snow. As the forest surrounded them,
Scully took in the entire scene with reverence. So much had happened
these past ten days. Yet each ugliness was washed away by the
tranquillity of being here. The fairy tale magic of an English
winter, Christmas and castles, sleigh rides and laughing children all
combined to wash away much of the accumulated pain of the last few
years. 
Scully had noticed it in Mulder, too. He was such a complex
personality, passionate in the extreme, a borderline manic
depressive. This odd, fairy tale castle allowed his natural good
humor to bounce back much faster than normal, despite the fears for
the future they now faced. 
Dale pulled the sleigh up a ridge then stopped as they reached the
top. The view below was straight from a storybook. Surrounded by snow
clad hills, the village lay partially in the shadows of early
evening. Smoke spiraled upwards from almost every chimney. Yellow and
white lights punctuated the shadows. It looked as peaceful and
harmonious as a soft symphony.
Dale moved from beside her and perched himself opposite, by sitting
on the rounded edge of the carriage. Dana looked up in surprise.
"Dana, my dear Dana, I admit to bringing you out here for reasons
other than a simple sleigh ride."
Scully's eyebrows lifted a notch and she felt adrenaline start to
course through her blood. Her instincts gave back confused signals
but before she could say anything he placed a gloved hand on hers and
spoke, the timbre of his voice changed. She had heard it before, when
he pushed aside his charm and wit. He was serious now and his eyes
displayed an impressive intellect that made Scully blink.
"Dana, I am about to betray a confidence, something I would never
have deemed myself capable of, but I would not forgive myself for
sitting by and saying nothing. I risk a life long friendship with a
man who is far closer to my soul than my twin brother was. And I risk
a budding, and perhaps equally life long friendship with you by doing
so."
He now had Scully's complete attention and she stared at him
unblinkingly. Something was wrong with Mulder...what was it?
"Because of that I am going to ask three things which you may not
feel you can give. Nevertheless, I shall ask. Firstly, I ask that you
never, under any circumstances, tell Fox of this conversation. This
is an easy request because what you learn is in fact what your heart
already knows, I'm simply going to jolt it into recognition."
Scully frowned, her stomach flipping, but Dale continued unabated.
"Secondly, I am going to ask that you allow me to finish what I begin
and finally, I pray that if you chose to ignore what I reveal, you
will not leave your partnership with Fox, for the blame is mine, not
his."
Scully felt her heart thumping, her nerves on edge. Something was
wrong with Mulder, what? She had to know, she had to help
him...Scully only nodded, her brows knitted in concern.
Dale sat up straighter and sighed. He looked up, not sure how to
begin now that Dana had agreed. He had not rehearsed this.
"By late Christmas afternoon, we knew you were in trouble and we were
utterly helpless in the face of that blizzard. We expected the worst,
but knowing Fox as I do, I hoped for the best. I couldn't sleep
and...well I ended up pulling out my old email files. Fox may have
mentioned that I'm rather anal in my habits. I keep everything on
file, going back for years, all in meticulous order. And so I found
myself opening my correspondence with Fox, from the time he left
Oxford until our most recent exchanges.
"Dana, I must prelude this with the statement that Fox and I are both
very heterosexual," Scully blinked, but she could see where he was
coming from "One's predilections become clear at Oxford, a good
thing, I think for those who have hidden their natural yearnings. And
thus I am qualified to state, in no uncertain terms, that Fox and I
are physiologically incapable of feeling sexual attraction to men.
But I am perhaps, more capable of honesty in my feelings than he.
"I love Fox, more so than I have loved my brothers. I have shared
with him...much," Dale remembered their night with the Australian
student. He hadn't thought about it in years and it brought on a
chuckle. Dana sat quietly, but she held herself rigidly, terrified
where this was going, terrified to move and break this unraveling
of...what?
"Men have filled libraries with inadequate words of explanation for
the love that a man can feel for another man. I know that love is
returned in full measure. And I also know you share such a love with
him. And that it is returned in full measure. 
"I lied when we first met, I knew you were a woman, but one does not
always grasp the larger picture when it is given in small pieces. Fox
is an eloquent writer. Does he ever write to you?"
Scully shook her head "No...yes, emails...reports, work..." 
"Of course, but it is such a pity, for he has the soul of a great
poet." 
As she sat listening Scully recalled times when Mulder's conclusions
were more spiritual longings than a footnote to a standard FBI
report. She lifted her lower lip in a small smile of understanding.
"Ah," Dale smiled as watched Scully's face "I see you understand. We
exchange emails as little as two or three times each year, but on
occasion, daily. And as I sat and read through this correspondence of
these last twelve years, every logical piece in me declaring you must
both be dead, I watched a man lifted to the heights of passion and
plummeted to black depths beyond which I despaired he would ever
rise. 
"Then one day a small spark entered his life. I did not notice it at
first, because it seemed quickly snuffed and I watched him fall again
into an abyss I can only see, never experience. I do not think my
sanity would hold, to fall into such darkness. All I could do is
reach out my hand and pray he may take hold and hang on until the
abyss released him once again. 
"On that black Christmas night, I realised for the first time that
although I may have held him while he foundered, it was you who
selflessly pulled him free." 
<You saved me, a thousand times over...I owe you everything ...
Scully, and you owe me nothing.> 
Dana Scully tried to hide from the memory of his words.
"I really do not know why I had not seen it before, except perhaps
that I had compressed twelve years into one night. I had never met
you before. I did not realise you were not just his anchor, you were
a part of his very soul..."
<You've made me a whole person> Mulder's voice returned unbidden into
her mind.
"But Dana, you are a women. And a man's love for a woman can move the
universe. I should have seen it before and I kick myself for being a
fool and kissing you on Christmas Eve. But I saw in you a hunger and
had convinced myself that if Fox would not satiate it, then why not
I?"
Scully pulled her eyes from him, embarrassed and starting to get
seriously angry. But he pulled his glove from his hand and brought
her chin to face him. His eyes seemed bright and clear, too bright
and it suddenly struck her what risks he was taking. 
"Dana, I adore women. All women. I fall in love weekly, monthly and I
have truly loved every one of them. I will never marry, I cannot sire
children and young Arthur, Helen's oldest, with likely be the next
Lord of Castle Lochmead. It's really for the best because I would
never have made a good husband, there are just too many beautiful
women out there and I lack all self control." He smiled in genuine
delight "And I count many to be good and dear friends so I shall
never be lonely in my dotage. 
"But Fox is quite different. His passion is of singular dimension.
When he loves there can be no other. He has been hurt far too often
by shallow women who sought to use him for their own twisted
pleasures. I believe you even met one, perhaps the worst, Phoebe,
mind fucker extraordinaire,"
Dale's unexpected obscenity was almost like a physical blow and
Scully jerked.
"Ah, I apologise, it leaves a bad taste in one's mouth but sadly that
is really the only term for one such as her.
"I had hoped more from Diana, but she was simply a woman, paling to
thin nothingness against the light you have brought him. And I saw in
his letters that as he came to look upon your brightness and bathe in
its warmth, you both traveled the same road. And that allowed his
passion, his obsession to find his sister, to find the truth, to roam
freely, always returning into your warmth and making himself whole
again."
<you make me whole>
"Without you, he is a shell and I do not doubt he would one day fall
into the abyss and never return.
<I don't know if I want to do this alone... I don't even know if I
can ...>
"But for all of that he is like a fearful child. His adoration of you
is such that he dare not sully it with something as mundane as mere
sex. Such momentary passions can be relieved in other ways. And he
thumbs his nose at the world and himself and indulges in harmless
videos and magazines."
Dale stopped and looked down, almost fearful to go on, but he knew he
must finish this.
"He loves you and I know, not by word, but by watching you, that he
fears to break the bonds that restrain your human needs. He fears
allowing that love to manifest itself in the ultimate bonding between
a man and a woman. He is terrified it would rob you both of something
far greater. Do not mistake that for weakness, for every day he
fights that battle in him and every day he does not touch your core,
he wins. I can only guess at the strength within him, what power it
must take to love someone so much that you would deny yourself of
them. 
"And I would not tell you this unless I see the same thing in your
eyes. You fight that same battle very day and with your strength, the
strength that sustains him in every way, you are equally the victor. 
"Yet I see both your victories as sad ashes."
Scully pulled back, angry now, pushing aside what this man had said.
He had no right to say that, who the hell did he think he was? He was
totally wrong! Yes, she admitted to herself, she physically desired
him, on occasion. But it was her body betraying her, it had nothing
to do with her personally and nothing to do with his feelings, or
lack of them.
<you make me a whole person> another image of him in a hospital bed,
a little boy wondrous look on his face <I love you>.
No! Scully pulled herself blindly from the sleigh and began running
away from Dale, running from Mulder, running from herself. If she
could just run long enough she could leave it all behind and they
would go on as they always had.
His long legs caught her quickly, but she lashed out and knocked him
backwards. He had not considered her training, so the fall came
quickly and he gashed his head on a rock as he fell. Scully looked
back in horror at the blood on the snow and immediately rushed to his
side. Dale was already trying to stand, wincing more in surprise than
pain. Scully pulled out her handkerchief and with tears running
freely down her face, pressed it against the wound.
"Dear Lady, can I employ you as my bodyguard?" Scully sighed at his
irreverence then he added "There is no longer doubt in my mind where
that gash on Fox's eye came from. Do you always fight like this? If
so I fear for my good friend's life!"
"Let me have a look at it."
Refreshingly, unlike Mulder, he leaned forward without protest.
"It only stings, I will live, but the question is, will you?"
Scully gulped back her tears and clinically examined the wound. It
really was minor, a nick that had already stopped bleeding.
"Dana, you may not find it in your heart to forgive me, but if you
listen to nothing more I have to say, at least hear this. My words
change nothing between you and Fox, they simply change your level of
awareness. I beg of you, if you do not act on that awareness by
opening your love for each other, then equally do not act on the
knowledge by leaving him, for fear of that love. I only hope you have
the greater strength to tear down the walls that separate you."
Dale stood, gently pushing her administering hands away, then
clasping one he walked them back to the sleigh. 
Scully hadn't realised how dark it was getting. She still wanted to
run away and hide, hide from herself, hide from his words and most of
all, hide from Mulder. She was stony silent all the way back to the
castle.
It was fully dark by the time they passed the gates. A liveryman took
control of the team and Dale helped Scully from the sleigh. To all
outward appearances Scully was calm and impassive. Inwardly she was
shutting down, pulling the walls around her, protecting her
emotionally safe existence with familiar and sturdy barricades.
Nothing has changed, nothing at all. Dale was...mistaken.

CHAPTER 23 
LOCHMEADE CASTLE NORTHERN ENGLAND
3Oth DECEMBER 1999
Mulder smiled in relief as Scully entered their rooms to change for
dinner. The children had told him Dale had taken his partner for a
sleigh ride, but as the dark began to encroach, he felt himself
panicking. Scully could overcome Dale in a second if she had
been...called.
"How was Edinburgh?" Scully asked him, still unsettled by Dale's
words. 
"Just as bad as London." He answered grimly. "They have no idea what
they are dealing with. Did you get on to anyone else while I was
gone?"
"Word is getting around. In forty eight hours it will mostly be over.
Once that clock hits midnight around the planet, the worst of the
cults should die off and we can determine if these incidences are
really related."
Mulder stood with his hands on his hips. Jesus, she was really
starting to convince herself it all boiled down to Millennium fever.
Leave it alone, Mulder. She's right. In less than two days the entire
planet would be in the year 2000 and all they'd have to worry about
were Y2K problems. 
Yeah, sure, whatever.
"Okay, Scully, lets make it an early night. It's party time tomorrow
and you better get some beauty sleep if you expect me to give you a
New Year's Eve kiss." He waited for a comeback on that but to his
surprise, Scully's scowl only deepened.
"You okay Scully?"
"Sure, I'm fine Mulder." Scully picked up her coat and walked to the
door, hardly noticing Maurice as she left.
Over the family dinner, the tale of the fairies and Maurice the ghost
cat was bantered back and forth. Dale glanced at Scully every now and
then, almost regretting what he'd revealed that afternoon. But she
seemed unperturbed, treating everyone with the same easygoing way he
had come to enjoy. She had become the center of attention when
everyone realised Maurice had decided to 'haunt' her, but she seemed
to take it all in good humor. He made certain her glass was always
full, hoping the wine might ease the heavy burden of her spirit. Like
the rest of the family, they retired early in order to be fresh for
the huge New Year's party to be held at the castle the following eve. 
=A0
In that strange time known as the witching hour, Scully awoke. She
was still a little high from the wine. Not drunk, but...or maybe it
was something else. She reached across to the dresser and felt for
the small jewelry box and pulled it to her in the darkness. Turning
the open box back and forth allowed the small jewels to catch a
fragment of starlight from outside. Her mind still blocked the words
Dale spoke, but as her fingers traced the earrings the walls began to
crumble.
<You made me whole>
Her mind cast back to the night in hospital when she was close to
death from her cancer. The night Mulder came in and lay his head on
her arm and grieved. For himself, for her, for their lives. He
thought she had slept and in truth, she was so drugged it seemed like
a dream. But he had told her he had come, told her he was lost but
then he found his way, and she remembered. And she knew.
All these years she had known and pushed it aside. 
All these years they had fought each other, two poles separated from
each other by her science and his ideology. 
Two powerful forces balancing each other.
Yin and yang, perfectly fitted to one another.
<You made me a whole person>
Her fingers rubbed across the jewels and she suddenly found herself
sitting, replacing the studs in her ears with the sapphires. 
It was the wine, of course.
She got out of bed and walked into the sitting room but unexpectedly
found herself by Mulder's bed, watching him sleep. His hair was
tussled like a little boy's, his arm thrown back, the heavier sounds
of sleep coming from him. He had shaved that morning but there was a
shadow across his jaw line. Her flesh tingled in memory of his
roughness of cheek on those rare occasions that he kissed her, and on
a recent morning waking in his arms. 
Scully smiled and leaned over to brush the hair from his eyes. She
had never admitted it before but he had amazingly sensual eyes,
bedroom eyes.
Suddenly she pulled back, realising those eyes were watching her.
"Scully?" he whispered softly. "What's wrong?" he sat, expecting the
worst.
"No..nothing, I just thought I heard.." Scully gulped, what the hell
did she think she was doing? "Nothing, it's all right, just my
imagination." She backed away as he got out of bed.
Mulder was about to ask if she felt she had to leave, if she was all
right but he knew the answer to that question. Hell, if she was
hanging off a cliff with one fingernail she'd still be saying 'I'm
fine, Mulder.' rather than impose herself on him, always protecting
him from her pains, for was he not burdened enough with his own?
"Scully, what is it, what's wrong?" More concerned now.
"Nothing is wrong!" She answered defensively and fled from the room.
She wanted to run back to her bed and hide under the covers but the
walls of her carefully nurtured strength began to build again. Hiding
under covers in the dark was not Scully, it was weakness. Instead she
sought the light of the fire, staring at it mesmerised, willing it to
forge the steel of her walls.
<I love you> 
No! He was under medication, high as a kite! Build the walls, quickly
Dana!
Mulder frowned, Scully almost never came to him, needing him. Scully
was the strong one. Her strength carried him and he, selfish bastard
that he was, had turned his back on her a dozen times, knowing she
would find him and pick up the pieces when he fell apart. Oh sure, he
was a great help when she in a coma, or unconscious, when he would
cry on her bed and crawl into his own self pity. Just this once he
wanted to be there for her when she had her own private nightmares.
Mulder followed her out into the sitting room and put his hands on
her shoulders. "Scully? Bad dreams or you just trying to get into my
bed?" He felt her stiffen. Something must really be wrong. She never
baited that easily.
Too sensitised to reply she shook her head, but he turned her to face
him, wrapped his arms around her and tucked her head under his chin.
At least he could hold her until the nightmare crawled back down its
hole. Mulder expected her to push him away but after a few minutes
when she didn't, he worried that something was seriously wrong. He
placed his hands on her cheeks and turned her face upwards, knowing
her eyes would tell him. Mulder felt the slight sharpness of earrings
against his palms and moved his hand to tuck her hair behind her ear.
The sapphires and red gold gleamed in the dull warm light. The color
matched her hair perfectly and the dark blue reflected the fire, as
did her haunted, equally blue eyes. 
Built the walls Dana, build the walls!
<I owe you everything Scully, you owe me nothing!>
<you made me a whole person>
<I love you>
"Mulder, I'm sorry, I can't go on like this." 
In that moment he understood the look of sorrow and longing in her
eyes and knew. It was not the stress of waiting, it was something far
more profound. To his utter shame his body responded in pure arousal. 
Her tear streaked face changed and she gasped as she felt him grow
against her.
God, how had he let this happen! Mulder had developed a finely tuned
skill of keeping himself under control in her presence. He spent half
his life slightly aroused by her presence. He had learned to enjoy
it, without letting it overcome him. He almost lost it on the dance
floor a week back, but he'd scraped by. Then the damned latex gloves
had let him down. Shit.
Mulder let her go instantly but it was too late to hide what had
happened, "I'm sorry, you shouldn't wake a guy up in the middle of
the night looking like that." 
Scully, unaware that she was dressed only in panties and short tank
top, had already knocked his arms from her shoulders. His eye caught
a flash of her wrists as it came up and instinctively he grabbed at
them, defending himself from her expected blow. He captured her right
one, but her left arm punched against his still tender right hand and
created a short, but very sharp pain. He opened his mouth and gasped,
screwing his face at the unexpected sting.
She immediately grabbed his right hand in a gentle grasp. Her face
crumpled a little "I'm so sorry, Mulder." And she held his hand to
her cheek while her lips caressed his still swollen knuckles. 
Her eyes never left his, but in his peripheral vision her rich hair
was hallowed in bronze by the firelight. Her tank top had slipped off
one shoulder and her warm lips caressed his hand. She put every
erotic picture he'd even seen to shame.
Scully felt his breathing go ragged. The other changes in his body
were inescapable.
<I only hope you have the greater strength to tear down the walls
that separate you.>
Did she have that strength?
Mulder was biting the inside of his lower lip, willing the pain to
bring some control over his quivering body. His face was inches from
hers, all he had to do was... 
She leaned up and kissed the place where his lips met his cheek and
she felt his body shudder, his breathing become yet more ragged. 
Scully was no tease, he thought, so just what the hell was she
playing at? But then she moved his hand so that his fingers were
running across her wet lips and tongue. 
He nearly exploded on the spot at the eroticism of her movements. 
He became aware that he still gripped her right wrist. He let it go
and felt his arm slide behind her, across bare flesh.
He could smell the warmth of her breath, her woman scent.
How many atoms between what was and what could be?
How many universes must they traverse? 
And the universe surprised itself and answered back 'no more.'
Scully's lips parted again and this time he watched the tip of her
pink tongue slowly, deliberately touch his finger. A jolt traveled
from his hand to his entire body and at last he fell. 
It was not a gentle fall. It was not six years in the making, nor
even six lifetimes. They had come together, a hundred, a thousand
times before in an eternal dance of the souls. As sons and daughters
fathers and brothers, friends and companions, but in all the
lifetimes they had shared, never once before as lovers. This was the
first lifetime they had been equal man and woman in a time and place
that allowed the barriers of convention to be broken. In that moment
their souls knew their love was not transient for this lifetime, but
would last forever more.
Such fleeting awareness passed before mortal memory could store it in
their minds. But their souls knew it to be true and that passion,
once aroused, could no more be denied than the universe stand still. 
The mortal moment returned.
He snatched his fingers from her mouth and covered it with his own,
roughly, harshly, aroused beyond all human reason. With the same
blind passions with which he attacked life from the day he was born,
Fox Mulder embraced his partner.
Dana Scully had often reveled in his sheer size compared to her
diminutive stature, but now it took on an entirely different form. He
clutched her to him until it almost hurt. Yet all the while she felt
him ready to release her at the first sign of her hesitation. For all
the power with which he held her, his kiss was softness and warmth
embodied. Scully mentally cried at the contrast, begging his tongue
to penetrate her, but he pulled gently away, teasing her lips,
teasing her mouth, an exquisite foreplay of her senses belying the
roughness of his hands across her body. Finally, she could stand no
more, her own tongue found his lips and he shuddered and finally gave
of himself completely. 
Their shadows danced in tune with the fire. The walls had been
destroyed and could never be rebuilt. Fox Mulder made love for the
first time in his life, for all that had gone before was meaningless
in the face of this. 
Dana Scully opened herself, allowing what seemed a lifetime of
controls to come crashing down in the face of his overwhelming
passion, his reverence of her body, of her self. They worshipped one
another in the light of the fire, a release and then another, an
ongoing symphony of souls.
Finally they rested, warmed by inner fires that burned long after the
embers beside them died to glowing coals. Close to dawn now, Mulder
carried Scully to his bed. Easier now, more comfortable in their
needs, he made slow and fanciful love to her and she replied in full.
He reveled in her sensuality, hidden for so long behind tight
formality. She reveled at his surprising eroticism and sheer sense of
fun.
They slept, tangled limbs entwined, souls freed at last from self
imposed chains. 
Outside, a thousand lights danced across the dawn sky.
Colonisation had begun.
=A0
The end.

Have I really dragged you all this way to have it end like this?
We....ll..
Yep!