~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

UNIVERSAL INVARIANTS

by syntax6

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter One: White Night Language


At the sink, Scully tore up spinach leaves with special 
ferocity. "Did I tell you he had a copy of my senior thesis?  
I don't even have a copy of my senior thesis." 

"You told me." Ethan lounged against the counter, popping the 
occasional cherry tomato in his mouth and looking like he'd 
lived in her kitchen forever instead of just for two months.  
At some point she was going to have to come clean to her 
parents about Ethan's new address.

"I didn't even know I was getting this assignment until ten 
minutes before I met him, but someone sure tipped him off.  
I'm surprised he didn't want to discuss the spelling bee I 
won in third grade."

"You won a spelling bee? I didn't know that."

"Ghosts and goblins and little green men.  I can tell you 
that's not what I had in mind when I joined the FBI."  She 
carried the salad bowl to the table.  "Still, I guess it's 
nice to finally get into the field."

"What was the word?"

"Hmm?"

"The word you won the spelling bee with."

"Oh.  Lugubrious."

He grinned and shook his head as she removed the salmon from 
the broiler.  "I think it's kind of hot."

"That I won a third-grade spelling bee?"

He came up behind her while she garnished the fish with fresh 
dill.  "That you're in the field now," he said, looping his 
arms around her.  He kissed her neck.  "My girlfriend is a 
bad-ass FBI agent.  After dinner, you can show me your gun."

Scully laughed.  "You've seen my gun plenty by now, I should 
think."

"So you can tell me war stories.  What's out in Oregon that 
warrants attention from the FBI?"

She wrested free of his arms.  "You know I can't talk about 
it."

"Aw, come on.  It's not like Oregon's my beat, so what does 
it matter?  You know I won't tell anyone."

"I know.  But I'd rather not set the precedent."

He sighed.  "There goes all the fun dinner conversation."

"We can still talk about your work.  What did you do today?"

"Filmed senate testimony on the new environmental bill.  Let 
me tell you -- the only thing less exciting than watching 
grass grow is listening to the suits talking about the grass 
growing."

"Dinner's ready.  I'm just going to grab a couple of fresh 
candles."

"So, is he cute?"

Scully stopped and turned.  "What?"

"The imperious Fox Mulder.  Is he cute?"

"Does it matter?"

Ethan shrugged.  "Instead of going away with me this weekend, 
you're going to Oregon with him.  I figure I should size up 
the competition."

"It's a case, Ethan.  Not a romantic get-away."

"Yeah, but this guy's your partner now, right?  You're going 
to be spending a lot of time with him."

Scully thought back to her meeting with Chief Blevins earlier 
that afternoon.  *Am I understanding correctly that you want 
me to debunk the X-Files?* she had asked.

"Not necessarily," she told Ethan, and went in search of 
candles.  

"Hey!"  He called after her. "You never answered my 
question!"


That night in bed, Ethan's hands wandered under her pajama 
top. He kissed her cheek, her temple, and then nuzzled her 
ear.  "One for the road," he breathed suggestively as his 
fingers grazed her belly.

Scully hummed a reply, her eyes closed.  She was picturing 
her med school textbooks where they sat on the bookshelf near 
her desk.  Mulder would have more questions tomorrow, tossing 
fact and fiction at her in equal measure and expecting her to 
find the truth.  She would bet dollars to donuts Mulder 
wasn't home getting "one for the road."  He was probably 
caressing a file folder and inventing new hypotheses, each 
more ludicrous than the last.  

She was going to have to come armed with evidence if she 
hoped to shoot him down.

"You feel so good," Ethan murmured.

"Ethan, I -- " Scully broke off as his hand slipped between 
her legs.

"You what?" he teased against her neck.

"I need to check something."

"Mmm?"

Her lips parted as her body arched under his touch.  "I -- oh."  
Ethan's head disappeared beneath the sheets and all thoughts 
of aliens and Fox Mulder disappeared with him.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"Ow, Jesus.  Don't you guys ever clean this thing off?"  
Mulder removed a handful of shells from under his ass.

"If you didn't come over here and leave such a mess, we 
wouldn't have to," Frohike replied.

Nominally, Mulder was there to watch Monty Python's "The 
Meaning of Life," with the group, but Byers was the only one 
sitting with him on the sofa.  Frohike worked in the galley 
kitchen preparing chili while Langly fooled around with a 
pile of electronics and a cell phone.

"I'll do yours next, Mulder," he said.  "Wireless internet 
from anywhere.  Think of the possibilities."

"Great.  I can check my email from the john."  He took a long 
sip of beer.

"It'll be another way for us to keep in touch with you," 
Byers said.  "We worry when you're out there all by 
yourself."

"Not anymore," Mulder said around another swig. "I've got a 
new partner."

Both Langly and Frohike looked up.  "Since when?" Langly 
asked.

"Today.  Her name's Dana Scully."

Frohike let out a low whistle.  "A G-woman.  Sweet."

"Hardly sweet.  You should see her file.  Skipped grades, 
straight As.  Not one black mark anywhere.  This one's wound 
so tight you could bounce a quarter off her."

"A real tight-ass, huh?" Frohike said.  "What'd you do to 
finally merit a partner?"

"She's not there for me.  She's there for them.  They sent 
her down to keep an eye on me and report back."

"A spy?" Byers asked.

Mulder shrugged.  "She's green, maybe doesn't know any 
better.  Maybe she thinks doing their bidding is a fast track 
to the top.  Either way, I give her a month.  Two tops."

"You want us to check her out?" Frohike asked.

"I already did.  She's a Navy brat.  Parents live in the 
area.  Two brothers in the military. She's got a TV 
journalist boyfriend living with her."

"Media, huh?  Could be trouble."

Mulder finished his beer and set the empty bottle on the end 
table. "Thought of that.  Guess I'll have to take my 
chances."

"We could bug her place," Langly offered.

Mulder hesitated.  *I'm looking forward to working with you,* 
she had said.  Strong handshake for such a small person.

"No," he said at last.  "No bugs.  Not yet."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

She noticed he had not gotten them seats together, exactly.  
She had the aisle on one side and Mulder had the window 
across the way.  Whoever had his aisle seat did not show up, 
however, so Mulder took the opportunity to stretch out across 
all three seats.

Twenty minutes in, he reached down and retrieved a large 
sheaf of folders, which he handed back across over his head 
to her.  "A little light reading for the flight," he said.

Scully accepted the pile onto her lap and took out her 
glasses to begin reading.  If the folders were any evidence, 
Fox Mulder possessed a thorough and organized mind.  He had 
newspaper clippings and police reports on each mysterious 
death.  Any notes he had made, however, were conspicuously 
absent.

She sneaked a look at him while she read.  He had headphones 
on and she tried to guess what he might be listening to - 
alternative rock? Alien whale song?

On their descent the plane hit bad turbulence, rocking the 
cabin as its metallic belly pitched and rolled. People 
screamed and Scully gripped her seat.

Only Mulder remained languid and calm, as if he were 
somewhere else.  

As if, Scully thought afterward, he has seen his future 
written down and knows his time is not yet up.

~*~*~*~*~*~

He keeps orange spray paint in the car, Scully said to 
herself as she watched Mulder draw a large "X" in the middle 
of the street.  We're in town for three minutes and we're 
going to be arrested for vandalism.

"What the hell was that about?" Scully asked when he had 
finished.

"Oh, you know.  Probably nothing."

He walked past and got in the car, leaving her standing on 
the outside.  He had started the engine and put the car in 
gear by the time Scully took her seat.

"So you just drive on, placing graffiti around town every 
time your radio reception gets fuzzy?"

"Something like that, yes." He glanced sideways at her, 
amused.  

Scully did not look back.  No man could be this crazy and 
still be a special agent in the FBI.  Clearly, he was toying 
with her.  The random behavior was designed to increase her 
confusion and discomfort.

Mulder gave her another sly look.  "I wasn't going to tell 
you this so soon, Scully.  But you're part of the 'X' gang 
now.  We spread our colors across the US, marking our 
territory.  I expect you to get City Hall.  Don't worry.  
I'll keep the car running and the mayor's a short fat guy." 

She couldn't help it.  She smiled.  Before she could reply, 
her cell phone rang and she dug it out.  "Scully," she said.

"Hey, cutie.  Your flight go okay?"

"It was fine."

"You found any aliens yet?"

Scully turned her head to the window.  "Can I call you back 
later?"

Ethan laughed.  "He's there, huh?  Tell him I said, 'boo!'"

"Good-bye, Ethan," she replied, with equal parts affection 
and exasperation.  She tucked her phone away, and Mulder was 
looking at her again.

"Boyfriend?"

"Personal, yes."

"Personal." He gripped the wheel.  "Got it."

It was her turn to give him a look.  "His name is Ethan," she 
said, not sure why she was telling him.

Mulder studied the road.  "The cemetery is just up here on 
the left.  The sheriff is meeting us there."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The large breasted blonde gyrated on top of a well-oiled 
stud, both "oohing" and "aahing" but looking more like they 
were contemplating laundry than orgasm.  Mulder chewed a seed 
and watched the Skin-a-max show without really seeing it.  

His thoughts were on Scully, or more aptly, on the evidence 
she had collected.  At last he had a body -- possibly 
extraterrestrial -- and an implant to match.  Scully might be 
a thin-lipped, tight-ass but she knew her way around a 
morgue.

The TV set flickered with a crack of thunder and then blacked 
out.  Mulder swallowed a curse and rummaged around in the 
bedside drawer for some candles he had seen earlier.  

So much for Scully as a good luck charm, he thought.

He was contemplating a shower when there came a sharp knock 
at his door.

Mulder opened it to find Scully outside with a waterfall of 
rain washing behind her, wearing just her robe and slippers.  
Her hair was a wavy mess and her eyes were wide.

"Hi," he said.  The wind threatened to douse his candle.

Scully sounded shaky. "I want you to look at something."

"Come on in."

He shut the door behind her and Scully turned with her back 
to him.  She paused just a second before shrugging the robe 
off her shoulders and down past her hips.  Mulder tightened 
his hold on the candle.

Scully looked over her shoulder at her lower back, and Mulder 
followed her gaze to the small bumps clustered there.  The 
sound of her heightened breathing filled the room as he crept 
closer.

Mulder knelt with his candle, the scent of her skin and hot 
wax mingling in his nose as he studied the bumps.  

"What are they?" Scully asked, her voice high and scared.

The warm glow accented the curve of her hip. Mulder touched 
her, his fingertips lingering at the edge of her panties.  He 
could feel her tremble.

"Mulder, what are they?"

Mulder smiled.  "Mosquito bites."

"Are you sure?" 

He stood, still grinning.  "Yeah, I got eaten up alive out 
there myself."

Scully threw herself at him, arms tight around his chest.  
Mulder rocked back at the unexpected contact and then patted 
her gingerly on the shoulder. Scully buried herself against 
him.

He held as still as he could, feeling a bit like the aliens 
he was always chasing. His skin tingled and his ears grew 
warm.

He could not remember the last time someone had hugged him.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

They shared their first big laugh together in the driving 
rain, standing over an open grave.  Water ran down his neck 
into his clothes.  His shoes sloshed when he walked.

Scully had shrunk another size with her clothes and hair 
plastered to her body, but she smiled at him.

"Come on, let's get out of here," he said.

"Where are we going?"

"We're going to pay a visit to Billy Miles."

She skipped a step to keep pace with him.  "Now?  Like this?  
It's four thirty am and we're soaking wet.  They'll never let 
us in the door."

"I'm all for gussying up, Scully, but might I remind you our 
motel burned to the ground a few hours ago?"

"Give me the keys," she said.  "I've got an idea."

Mulder stopped a few feet from the car.  "What?"

She crossed her arms.  "You want dry underwear?"

He blinked, and she must have taken that as an affirmative 
because she held out a hand.  "Then give me the keys."

Fifteen minutes later, they were parked behind the Bellefleur 
Laundromat, "Duds and Suds." "That's great," Mulder remarked, 
"but how do you propose we get in?"

"Watch and learn," Scully told him.  He followed her to the 
back door, where she withdrew a nail file from her pocket. 
She slipped it in the lock, and a few moments later, the 
rickety door opened.  She turned around to smile at him.  
"Ta-da."

"They don't teach that at the Academy," Mulder said.

"That's not where I learned it."

Scully went inside without elaboration, so Mulder followed 
her into the darkness.  When he reached for the lights, she 
stopped him.  

"Don't want anyone driving past to see us," she said.

He tilted his head at her.  "You're just a little too 
practiced at this."

Her laughter bounced off all the hard porcelain.  She 
disappeared into the back while Mulder stood dripping on the 
floor. The only illumination came from the occasional flashes 
of lightening flashing through the large front windows.

Scully returned with her wet clothes under one arm.  She wore 
a pair of baggy shorts and an oversized T-shirt.  Mulder 
gaped.

"Where'd you get the clothes?"

"Laundromats always have stray clothes that people leave 
behind. Haven't you ever been in a coin operated laundry 
before?"

He shook his head, and her brow wrinkled. 

"Not even in college?"

"I, uh, I had a laundry service."

He couldn't see, but he felt her roll her eyes at him.  
"Well, it's self-service here," she said.  "You have 
quarters?"

She walked barefoot across the room to the dryers while 
Mulder fumbled in his wet pants.  "I'm going to go change."

He scrounged up some ill-fitting clothes of his own, and when 
he returned, Scully was sitting on top of a washing machine 
while her clothes tumbled in the dryer.  "So," she said while 
he loaded up a second machine, "burned motel rooms, 
disappearing corpses -- this is par for the course around 
here?"

"I told you they're willing to do whatever it takes to keep 
the evidence buried."

Scully was quiet for a minute.  "Then why not shut you down 
completely?"

"I don't know."  He shot her a hard look.  "You tell me."

"I'm not here to shut you down, Mulder.  I don't have that 
kind of power, even if I wanted to."

"Power?" he asked.  "Is that what you want?"

Scully took a breath.  "I'm not here to sink you," she 
reiterated.  "I'm here for the truth."

"Suppose the truth is burned motel rooms and disappearing 
corpses.  What then?"

Lightening flashed and he saw her mouth twitch.  "Then we 
hide the evidence and move the bodies."

He smiled and shook his head.

"Listen," Scully said, "they - whoever they are -- they can't 
burn motel rooms forever.  If the evidence is out there, 
we'll find it."

"Talk to me again in five years," Mulder answered.

They stared at once another across the room.  It was the 
first time he'd acknowledged she might be there past 
tomorrow.

Mulder turned away and studied the rumbling machines.  "So 
how long does this thing take?"

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

They sat together on the plane home, Mulder dozing in the 
aisle seat while Scully rested her head against the window.  
Outside the sky had inverted, twinkling lights of the cities 
below forming starry constellations beneath her feet.  

Maybe we're all aliens, she thought, and then had to stop 
herself from hysterical laughter. 

She fingered their lone piece of evidence hidden deep in her 
pocket. A good night's sleep would help her see things 
clearly again.

Mulder roused, head swinging around to look at her.

"What?" she asked when he did not say anything. 

His hand stretched out and he gently stroked her temple.  
"That's quite a lump you've got there.  Maybe you should see 
a doctor."

"I am a doctor."  His touch remained with her until she bent 
her head. "I'm okay.  Really."

Satisfied, he pulled away.  "We'll be landing soon.  You need 
a ride home from the airport or is Eric picking you up?"

"Ethan."

"Ethan.  Right."

"I'm set, thanks."  Ethan had promised to meet the flight.

It must have been the wrong answer because Mulder didn't 
speak to her again until the plane touched down.  "Here's 
your bag," he said, handing it down to her.

They trailed off with the rest of the rumpled passengers.  
Scully smiled when she saw Ethan waiting for her at the gate.  
He waved a bouquet of flowers as she wheeled her suitcase 
over to him.

"Welcome home," he said, and pulled her close for a warm 
kiss.  

She hugged him tight.  "Glad to be back."

He handed her the flowers and scanned the people exiting 
behind her.  "So do I get to meet this Mulder?"

"Sure.  He's right --"  Scully turned around but Mulder was 
gone. "here."  She stood on tiptoes to search the crowd, but 
the effort proved fruitless.  Mulder had vanished into the 
ether. "Another time, I guess," Scully said.

Ethan had already moved on. "Come on, I'm parked pretty 
close."  He took her bag and her hand.  Scully strained for 
one last look before following him out into the warm night.

~*~*~*~*~*~

At home, she could not sleep despite her exhaustion.  Ethan 
spooned against her, his arm heavy across her waist. 

"So how was your first trip into the field?" he'd asked in 
the car.

"Wet," she'd replied, and fussed with her hair to hide the 
bump.

The rain had caught up with her, trickling down the window 
and creating sliding shadows on the wall.

She caught the phone on its first ring.  Mulder's low voice 
came through the line.  She found she was not surprised to 
hear from him despite the fact that she had not given him her 
unlisted home phone number.

"I talked to the DA in Raymond County, Oregon," he said.  
"There is no casefile on Billy Miles. The paperwork we filed 
is gone.  We need to talk, Scully."

"Y-yes.  Tomorrow."

She hung up and settled back in bed, her mind whirring. 
Remember to ask him about the smoking man, she thought.  What 
does he do in Blevins's office?

Ethan stirred behind her, a million miles away.  "Anyone 
important?" he mumbled.

"No," she said.  "Just work."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

End part one.  Continued in part two.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

UNIVERSAL INVARIANTS

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

by syntax6


Chapter Two: What the Blind Man Saw


Scully had the route to the basement mapped by now, but the 
journey was never familiar.  Each time she descended the 
steps, a new collection of old boxes, abandoned storage 
shelves and dead computers laid in wait.  

She navigated past the dangling cords and sharp corners to 
find Mulder's office door open but no Mulder inside.

Scully entered slowly, taking this first opportunity to stare 
at Mulder's game trophies covering the walls.  He had 
newspaper clippings of a man with three arms and pictures of 
lights in the sky over West Virginia. On the shelf sat 
something that appeared to be genuine moon rock.  Scully 
smiled as she rubbed it with one finger.

A parrot that could predict the future.  Missing gemstones in 
Russia.  Doodles, sketches, grainy photos -- all of it cast 
under the faintly green tinge of the fluorescent lighting.

Mulder had assembled a shrine to urban legend.

Scully shook her head and turned to study his desk, stacked 
high in books and papers.  Peeking out on one side sat a four 
by six framed photo.  Scully glanced at the door before 
picking up the picture.

It was a simple frame for a simple scene -- a young boy and 
girl posed near a backyard tree.  This must be the sister, 
Scully thought, stroking her small cold face through the 
glass.  Mulder looked about eleven years old.

"Step right up," he said, jolting her into a guilty flush. He 
stood in the doorway sipping coffee.  "It's the greatest show 
on earth."

"Sorry," she said quickly as she replaced the picture.  "I 
didn't mean to pry.  You weren't here, and I -- "

"It's okay."  He walked into the room and picked up the photo 
she had just replaced.  He studied it as he took another swig 
of coffee.  "Look around all you like."  His dark eyes 
flashed at her.  "I have no secrets."

"It's quite a collection you have," Scully said, turning 
around to admire his wall again.  She squinted.  A faded 
yellow newspaper headline read, "FBI HUNTS LOCAL COMMUNISTS." 
"Leesberg, Virginia, 1952?" Scully asked.

Mulder set down the coffee.  "My first X-File."

"Communism was an X-File?"

"Communism was an excuse to hide the X-Files."

"Oh, of course," Scully said in perfect non-agreement.

Mulder grinned.  "Don't tell me you didn't put your first 
case up on your wall."

Scully's cubicle wall displayed departmental extension 
numbers and a calendar courtesy of the American Red Cross.  
"My first case was ID'ing a mother of two killed in the last 
Amtrek crash.  Not really something you want to remember."

"Amtrek?  Wasn't that just a few months ago?"

He was all wide-eyed and innocent, but Scully heard the 
undercurrent of challenge.  Her chin rose.  "More like a 
year."

Mulder shrugged.  "Tough case."

"Yeah."  She stroked the smooth edge of his desk and watched 
him out of the corner of her eye.

"What?" he asked at last.

"I was just wondering... all these pictures are from the X-
Files.  I don't see anything here from the BSU or Violent 
Crimes.  Monty Props.  Len Boyd Follet.  You did such amazing 
work there..."

He just looked at her, and Scully felt her face warm.

"I'm sorry.  It's really none of my business."

"Those cases are all solved.  Over."  Scully waited and he 
continued.  "I don't keep these things tacked up here to 
remind myself of the answers, Scully.  I keep them to remind 
me of the questions."

He tapped his sister's photo against his palm and set it back 
on the desk.

"And the communist X-File from 1952?" she asked.

His head came up.  "Still unsolved."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

She was packing when Ethan entered the bedroom eating an 
apple.  "Oh, great.  Where is it this time?" he asked, but 
his tone was teasing.

"Idaho."

"A swarm of killer potatoes?"

Scully smiled as she folded a sweater.  "Something like 
that."

He flopped on the bed next to her suitcase and continued 
crunching his apple.  "Hey, are you going to be back by 
Friday?  We have the dinner thing."

"Oh, right, the dinner thing." Ethan had won an award for a 
piece he'd done last fall on Willie Holcomb, an ex-con blind 
man who now made a living helping cops figure out crime 
scenes.  "I should be back," Scully hedged, though she truly 
had no real idea.  How long did it take to recover an Army 
Colonel kidnapped by the US government?

"You'd better be back or I'll be forced to take your mom 
instead."

"Oh, god. Mom."

"Don't tell me you haven't told her yet."

"No, but if you pick up the phone while I'm gone that ought 
to get the job done."

"Oh, no."  He rolled off the bed.  "You have to own that one 
all by yourself.  Besides, with my luck, it would be your dad 
calling."

"Dad likes you," Scully protested as he left the room.

Ethan stuck his head back in.  "I was a theater major in 
college, Dana.  Your dad thinks I am a pansy-assed fairy."

"I happen to like your pansy ass."

"Why, thank you."  He wiggled it at her as he disappeared 
again, and Scully laughed.

When he returned a few moments later, he tossed a video tape 
at her.  It landed on the corner of the bed.  "What's this?" 
she asked.

"I had some free time this morning so I did a little checking 
into your Mulder."

Scully frowned.  "He's not my Mulder."

"The guy's been involved in some big cases.  I'm surprised I 
haven't crossed paths with him before."  Since Scully made no 
move toward the tape, Ethan picked it up and stuck it in the 
VCR.  He snapped on the TV.  "And I found out why you were 
ducking my question, by the way.  Melinda assures me that 
Agent Mulder is an *extreme* hottie."

"There's news.  Melinda finds some male attractive.  Put that 
on your six o'clock broadcast, right after 'sun rises in the 
east' and 'Pope declares Catholicism.'" 

"Funny," Ethan replied as the tape began to play.

Audio preceded the video by a half second, Mulder's voice 
filling her bedroom.  "...all just relieved he's home 
safely."

"This is from the Singleton kidnapping a few years back," 
Ethan said.  "Mulder found the boy hidden on the uncle's 
farm."

Mulder stood under the white camera lights, looking a bit 
more like the young man from his desktop photo.  Scully stood 
transfixed as he explained away the case as if it were a 
routine training exercise.

"How did you know Joey hadn't been abducted by a stranger?" a 
reporter asked from off-camera.

"His backpack was found at the scene, but its contents were 
empty.  A stranger wouldn't have let him take those 
belongings with him."

"But how did you focus in on the uncle?"

Mulder wiped his nose on his sleeve, a gesture Scully found 
endearing.  "Once you know it's personal, you start looking 
for someone who might have wanted to take the boy.  Mr. 
Singleton had lost his son and his brother -- Joey's father -
- in a car accident last year, putting him on a short list of 
suspects."

"What a waste," said Ethan, tucking a pillow beneath his 
head.

"What?" Scully was still watching Mulder.

"Here's a guy who was doing important work -- finding kids, 
putting away monsters -- and he gives it all up to chase 
after ET and the Tooth Fairy.  How many people are dead 
because this guy'd rather play Ghostbusters than deal with 
the real world?"

"That's not fair."

"Isn't it?  Ask that little boy's mom how she feels about 
Mulder's new career."

"I'm sure she still considers him a hero."

"Maybe."  He got up from the bed.  "But the rest of the FBI 
sure doesn't.  Remember that."  He kissed her cheek.  "Safe 
trip, okay?  Call me when you get there."

He walked out and Mulder was still talking from the TV.

"No.  No, I don't consider Singleton evil. He made a terrible 
mistake.  His family had fallen apart.  He-- he just wanted 
his little boy back."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"Leave this case alone," the man in the tavern bathroom had 
said.  "You are exposing yourself and Agent Scully to 
unnecessary risk."

Mulder had not told Scully about his strange episode in the 
bathroom; in a flash, he'd wondered if maybe she was in on 
the whole mysterious encounter -- how else did the man know 
where to find them?

Privately, he figured he was getting the green light.  By now 
the men who watched him must know orders to "stay away" were 
most guaranteed to make him chase a case.  Danger was 
relative.  He had slipped inside serial killers and seen the 
world through evil eyes.

So far by comparison, the X-Files were a cakewalk.

Scully yawned at his right.  They were due to land in Idaho 
soon.  "So tell me," she said, turning her cheek toward him.  
"Is there ever an X-File in California?  Or Paris?"

He turned his head to match her; their noses were inches 
apart.  "Oh, I see.  You're hoping to investigate someplace a 
little more high brow?"

"I'd settle for somewhere in civilization."  She looked up at 
him with guileless eyes.  "You never answered my question, 
Mulder.  Are we really going all the way out here to hunt 
UFOs?"

"I told you why we're going."

"Ah, yes."  She sighed and faced forward again.  "The 
distinctive paranormal bouquet."  After a moment of thought, 
she turned to him.  "You should really teach me to pick up 
the scent, you know.  If we're going to be working together 
I'm going to need to be able to identify this paranormal 
odor."

Her words were perfectly serious but the light in her eyes 
told him she was yanking his chain. He licked his lips and 
leaned down.  She smelled like citrus.  "You really want to 
know?" he whispered.

Her breath caught but she held his gaze.  "I asked, didn't 
I?"

Mulder pretended to check out the plane to make sure no one 
was listening.  "You're in a room with three switches.  Down 
the hall in another room are three light bulbs.  Neither room 
has any windows.  The three switches turn the bulbs on and 
off, but they aren't marked.  You have to figure out which 
switch goes with which bulb, but you can only make *one* 
visit to the room with the bulbs in it."

Her brow did that wrinkle he had already learned preceded, 
"Mulder, you're crazy."

"What the hell does that mean?" she asked.

He sat back.  "It's a riddle."

"What does the riddle have to do with the X-Files?"

"Solve it and you'll find out."

He picked up a magazine and scanned the page, all the while 
watching Scully's brain chew on the puzzle.  She shifted in 
her seat to face him.  "There isn't some alien that comes in 
and works the lights, is there?"

"Please," he scoffed.  "This has nothing to do with aliens."

"I thought you said-"

"Solve it," he told her again.  "And you'll see."

The plane touched down and Scully had not figured out the 
solution.  They retrieved their bags from the luggage 
carousel, Scully struggling as hers came off at an awkward 
angle.

"Need a hand?" he offered.

"No."

He gave her a sly smile.  "Need a hint?"

"No!"

Mulder whistled as he walked away with Scully trailing close 
behind.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Local journalist Paul Mosinger waved at them as they drove 
away from Colonel Kissel's house.  Scully answered with a 
half-smile, but Mulder had already moved on mentally to their 
next destination: the Flying Saucer.

"He was just doing his job, you know," Scully said.

"Huh?"

"Mosinger. You gave him almost as chilly a reception as 
Kissel gave us.  He's just trying to get a story together."

Mulder glanced at her.  "Make note, Scully: the media is 
usually not your friend."

"He gave you the information you wanted, didn't he?"

"For now."  He met her eyes again.  "But there's always a 
price."

She shook her head.  "Not everyone is out to get you, 
Mulder."

"Well, as my father used to say: they ain't all out to be 
your friend, either."


Later that night, Scully slept in the car while Mulder 
watched the light show over Ellens Air Force Base. The two 
lighted craft danced a delicate ballet across the sky, zig-
zagging among the stars.  Mulder grinned, enchanted.  He 
wished they would come closer so he could get a better look.

He tore his gaze away long enough to see Scully still slumped 
in her seat.  The UFOs had been active nearly thirty minutes, 
but he had not gone to wake her.  Anything she saw, she was 
liable to write down in her little notebook and report back 
to the men upstairs.

The aircraft swooped and rose again.  Mulder laughed.

Fuck it, he thought.  At least this will shut her up. 
*There's no such thing as UFOs, Agent Mulder.*

Mulder bounded down the hill and opened her car door.  
"Scully, wake up!  You've got to see this!"

He grabbed her hand and tugged her with him.  For a few 
seconds, she seemed as amazed as he was.  Then reality set 
in.

"Those can't be aircraft."

"What else can they be?"

"I don't know.  Lasers, maybe.  Reflecting off all the 
clouds."

Yeah, that might be it, Mulder told her silently.  It was his 
turn to roll his eyes.

Write what you want in your little book, he thought.  You're 
my proof now.

If the men were offering Scully as a pawn, it was up to him 
to capture her.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Later, after they had been stopped, searched and robbed in 
the middle of the road by men dressed in government suits, 
Mulder looked across the roof of the car at her.  "You were 
saying," he said through gritted teeth, "about how not 
everyone is out to get me."

Scully came around to him while what was left of their papers 
blew away in the wind.  "Are you okay?"

"Just your standard knee to the kidney," he said.  "I'll be 
fine."

Scully picked up the blurry UFO picture he had purchased from 
the diner.  "At least you're not out twenty bucks.  I guess 
it must not be terribly damning evidence if they declined to 
take it with them."

Mulder leaned against the car.  "But look at all they did 
take."  He hit the roof with his fist.  "Dammit!"

"I don't understand," Scully said over the rushing wind.  
"What's going on, Mulder?  Why is it every time we scrape 
together a little documentation, someone comes along to 
destroy it?"

"Because they are paid to bury the truth."

"What truth?  The truth about aliens?"

"You saw what truth!"  She shook her head.  "Scully, you 
saw."

"I don't know what I saw," she replied, arms folded.

Mulder swallowed a curse.  "You saw those men.  You saw what 
they just did to us.  That should be proof."

"Proof of what?"

"That I'm not crazy."

Scully pursed her lips.  But she did not contradict him.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Scully curled in the chair, trying to doze under the musty 
blanket.  When her cell phone rang, she grabbed it before it 
could wake Mulder.  "Hello?" she said, her voice raspy from 
lack of sleep.

"Hey, did I wake you?" Ethan's warm greeting eased a bit of 
her tension.

She glanced at Mulder before rising from her chair and 
walking toward the privacy of the bathroom.  "No, I was 
awake."

"How are you?  What's going on?"

Oh, I'm fine, she thought.  I just assaulted a military 
security officer and busted my drugged-up partner out of a 
top-secret air force base.

"Nothing much.  Just doing a little reading before bed."

"Why are you whispering?"

Scully cleared her throat.  "Thin walls."

"Yeah?"  He chuckled.  "Mulder getting any action?"

"You seem to have a very confused idea of what we do on these 
trips, Ethan."

"Hey, you won't give me details, so I'm left with my 
imagination."

"Imagine flea-bag motel rooms and pasty diner food."

"I like my version better," he replied. 

Behind her, Mulder stirred.  "Listen, I've got to go," she 
said.  "I'll be home tomorrow for your dinner, okay?"

"Glad to hear it.  Night, Dana.  Love you."

"Me too."  She clicked off the phone.

"Me too," Mulder croaked from the bed.  "So sweet. Did you 
mention the part where you drugged me senseless and had your 
wicked way with me?"

"I take it you're feeling better," she said, walking over to 
him.

"Yeah.  Still don't remember much, though."

"That will teach you to run off on your own, now won't it?"

Mulder did not give her a direct answer.  "So how exactly did 
you get me out?"

"Threatened him with media exposure."  She smiled.  
"Sometimes the media *are* your friends."

"Yeah, I guess they aren't all bad."  He smiled back.  
"Thanks for coming after me."

She nodded, suddenly shy.  She took a deep breath.  "I should 
get some sleep then.  We've got an early flight."

"'Kay."  Mulder punched his pillow and rolled to his side.  
She could feel him watching her as she gathered her things to 
go.  "You figure out the riddle yet?" he asked.

She paused at the door.  "I haven't exactly had much time to 
think about it, now have I?"  She hesitated and turned again.  
His eyes glinted at her in the low light.  "I'll take the 
hint."

He shook his head, hair rustling on the pillow.  "Changed my 
mind.  You'll get it eventually."

She shook her head and sighed.  "Good night, Mulder."

"Night."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"Wow, you look amazing," Ethan said, naked appreciation in 
his gaze.  His hand grazed her naked back as Scully finished 
pinning up her hair.

"You look rather delectable yourself," she replied as their 
eyes met in the mirror.  Ethan always did clean up well. 
"Answer me straight: would you really have taken my mother if 
I hadn't made it back in time?"

"Maybe your father," he said, and she swatted him on the 
backside.  He left the room but his voice carried back to 
her. "I probably would have taken Melinda.  She helped shoot 
the piece anyway."

On their way out the door, Scully's phone rang.  Ethan stood 
impatient with the car keys in his hand.  Scully hesitated at 
moment but pushed him through the door.  "Let it go," she 
said.  "The machine will get it."

Ethan rewarded her with a dazzling smile.

No one clapped harder than she when Ethan received his plaque 
-- not even Willie Holcomb himself, who was seated to her 
left.  Willie hooked his pinkie fingers in his mouth and let 
out a loud whistle.

"Mighty Minette!" he hollered, and Scully smiled.

"I've seen the piece Ethan did about you," she told him.  
"It's quite an interesting life you've led."

"Interesting?  Miss, have you seen this beard?  You don't get 
this gray being merely interestin'."  He grinned at his own 
wit, crinkling the lines at his eyes.  "Ethan tells me you're 
in law enforcement."

"FBI, yes." Scully sipped her water.

"I worked for the FBI once," Willie replied.  "Senator's wife 
found dead, maybe suicide."

"You worked for the FBI?"

"Yep indeed.  A man by the name of Fox Mulder called me in."

Scully choked on her water, and Willie patted her on the 
back.  "Whoa, there.  You all right?"

"Yes."  Leave it to Mulder to bring a blind man in to solve 
an FBI case, she thought.  "What did Mulder want you to do?"

"Check out the hotel room where she was found." He shook his 
head.  "Lotta sadness in that room.  Terrible shame.  But a 
suicide it was.  We found a suicide note."

Scully couldn't see how they needed a blind man to find a 
note.  Willie read her mind because he leaned in to say, "She 
wrote it and burned it, see.  But she wrote it on top of the 
phone book.  Pen left an impression in the cover."

His fingers went to the white tablecloth as though he were 
reading it all over again.  "Dear Alan," he said.  "Seventeen 
years with you is more than I deserve.  Tell Maureen I love 
her.  Your faithful wife, Susan."

"Wow," Scully breathed.  "That is sad."

Willie shook his head.  "Terrible shame," he repeated.  He 
turned to her with unseeing eyes.  "You know Fox Mulder?"

"Yes, I know him."

"Brilliant man.  Intense as they come.  Truth be told, I'm 
kinda surprised he's still there."

"Why?"

"Figured he would have burned out by now.  Fire that bright, 
it doesn't last very long.  He consumed everything and 
everyone around him.  Eventually, I figured the fire would up 
and eat him, too."

Ethan returned to the table, plaque in hand.  "Hey, you two.  
No shoptalk tonight, okay?"

"Ethan, my man."  Willie shook his hand with a grin.  "Hang 
onto this one, you hear?  She talks real pretty."

"Oh, believe me, I will." Ethan kissed Scully.  Scully ducked 
her head.

She could still see the suicide note on the table.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Scully opened her eyes at precisely two AM. The apartment was 
silent. Ethan slept behind her.

She eased out from under his arm and crept into the other 
room.  The numbers on the phone glowed in the dark as she 
dialed Mulder's home.

"Hello?" he said, voice fuzzy.

"You can't do it by sight," she said.  "The riddle.  Turn one 
switch one for an hour.  One for just a minute.  Leave the 
other one off.  Go into the room with the bulbs and feel 
them.  The one that is hot goes to the switch left on an 
hour; the one that is warm goes to the switch left on a 
minute, and the cold one goes to the switch that was off."

She could hear him smiling.  "Not bad.  How'd you figure it 
out?"

"Someone reminded me tonight," she answered, "you can't 
always look with your eyes." She paused.  "I'll see you 
Monday, okay?"

"Monday it is."

She did not wake again until morning.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

End part two.  Continued in part three.

Mulder smooches to Amanda for proofing.  Any mistakes 
remaining are entirely my own.

Feedback makes me do the happy dance (sadly kind of similar 
to the white man's overbite, but still -- happy!)

Syn_tax6@yahoo.com

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

UNIVERSAL INVARIANTS

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

by syntax6

Chapter Three: Double Vision


Ethan arrived before the squad cars did.  "Dana?" he called 
from the living room.

Scully, still panting from her struggle with Tooms, went 
mute.  Mulder's lip curled in a sardonic smile.  "Honey, 
he's home."

Tooms growled, the handcuffs clattering against the tub as 
he protested his capture.  Scully swallowed.  "I'll deal 
with it," she said, moving toward the door.

Ethan appeared on the threshold. "Hey, I thought I heard 
you in-- " He stopped short at the sight of the crowded 
bathroom and the yellow-eyed man chained to the tub.  "What 
the hell is going on here?"

Scully took his arm.  "Ethan, just keep back, okay?" she 
said in a low voice.  "He's dangerous."

"Dangerous?  He's in my freaking bathroom is what he is!"  
Ethan strained to see over her head as she backed him down 
the hallway.  "What's going on, Dana?"

"He's a suspect in a case we're investigating," Scully 
explained as calmly as she could.  "He broke in here 
tonight and we apprehended him."

She left out the part where she almost lost her liver.  The 
thought that Ethan could have walked in and found her 
mutilated corpse made her momentarily dizzy.  Scully took a 
deep breath and overpowered the nausea.

"Are you okay?" Ethan asked, studying her with concern.

"Of course," she replied, as though it had always been a 
sure thing.  As though all her self-defense training had 
not failed to fell Tooms.  If Mulder had not come charging 
in when he did, Scully would have been bleeding on the 
bathroom floor while Tooms devoured her from the inside 
out.

"Who is he?" Ethan asked, still trying to peer around her.  
Outside, the sirens signaled the arrival of backup. 

Scully sensed more than idle curiosity in Ethan's question.  
"I can't talk about it.  Listen, I'm going to have to go 
downtown with Mulder and straighten this out.  Why don't 
you go to Mario's and get a cup of coffee?"

"I don't want a cup of coffee."

"Ethan, in two seconds this place is going to be crawling 
with cops.  They're going to think you're involved."

"I live here.  I am involved!"

Scully heard clattering in the bathroom and looked back 
over her shoulder.  "Ethan, please."

"You're not putting me off, Dana.  Not this time.  I want 
to know what's going on."

"I'll explain it to you -- later."  She met his eyes.  

He gave her a hard look.  "You'll tell me everything."

"Yes. *Off* the record."

"Dana--"

The cops' heavy footsteps sounded in the outside hall.  
"You've got to go," Scully told Ethan, shoving him in the 
direction of the door.  He still had his coat on.

"When can we talk?" 

"I don't know.  Later."

"I'll call you," he said as she expelled him into the hall 
just as the cops reached her front door.

Ethan was waving and saying something to her behind the 
uniformed men, but Scully refused to look at him.  "In 
here," she told the men in blue.

They tromped through her living room and Mulder met them at 
the bathroom door.  "Everything okay?" he asked her as the 
cops took Tooms into custody.

He stood closer than Ethan had, towering over her, 
breathing in her ear -- as if he could press the truth out 
of her in the darkened hallway.  Scully smelled his cotton 
shirt and the hint of sweat beneath it.

The cops marched Tooms out the front door like a normal 
person, but her apartment seemed smaller, darker now that 
he had squeezed inside.

"I'm fine," Scully said, and Mulder pulled back, opening up 
her space once more.

~*~*~*~*~*~

That night, Scully waited endless minutes for Ethan to fall 
asleep before getting up to call the one person she could 
be sure was also awake at that hour.

"It's me," she said when Mulder answered.

"We've got to stop meeting like this," he replied, and she 
smiled as she snuggled under the afghan on her couch.

She heard the TV playing in the background.  "What are you 
watching?"

"Night of the Living Dead."

"A classic."

"You watch horror movies?" he asked, sounding surprised.

"Sure.  They're entertaining enough."  Scully had never 
feared the dark or the Bogey Man, not even as a child.  No 
matter what Bill tried to tell her, she knew monsters 
weren't real.  "What channel?" she asked Mulder.

"Five."  Scully flipped on her TV.  He was eating something 
now; she heard crunching.  

She watched the screen without really seeing it for a few 
moments.  "Okay," she said at last, sitting up.

"Okay," Mulder agreed.

"The thing I want to know is -- how does Tooms know he's 
supposed to eat five livers every thirty years?  Why not 
four livers every ten years?  Why livers instead of 
kidneys?"

"It's a live-er, Scully.  Containing 'life.'  There's no 
life in kidney."

"Mulder, the liver's role is to remove toxins from the 
bloodstream.  I hardly think that consuming another 
person's poison filter is the way to achieve eternal 
youth."

More crunching from Mulder's end.  "It works for Eugene 
Tooms."

"We don't know that yet."

"Scully, he was about to use you as snack food."

Scully stopped her protest before it started.  "It still 
doesn't answer my question about how he supposedly knew he 
had to eat five livers every thirty years."

"Don't you ever get specific food cravings?  Wake up in the 
middle of the night with a hankering for a pastrami 
sandwich?"

"This is a bit different."

"Not really.  His body tells him what he needs the same way 
our bodies make specific demands of us: we eat when we're 
hungry and we drink when we're thirsty."

"But we don't start out knowing what to eat and drink," 
Scully argued.  "As babies we'd eat hair pins and plug 
nickels if our parents didn't stop us."

Mulder didn't say anything for a long minute.

"Mulder?  Are you there?"

She heard him shifting on his couch.  "You could be right, 
Scully.  Maybe Tooms has relatives that have passed on the 
liver-eating tradition.  We should check it out."

Scully put one hand over her eyes. "Mulder, that's not what 
I--"

"Dana?"  Ethan appeared in the living room wearing only his 
boxers.  "Who are you talking to?"

"I've got to go," Scully said.  "Talk to you tomorrow."  
She hung up the phone before Mulder could reply.

Ethan rubbed his prickly jaw.  "Let me guess: Mulder?  He's 
not still insisting that guy was some kind of mutant, is 
he?"  

Scully said nothing, and Ethan joined her on the couch.  He 
put an arm around her and gave her a squeeze.  "You know," 
he said, fingers finding her hair, "if you want to talk 
about what happened, you can always talk to me."

"I told you what happened."

"I know.  That's what I mean.  I can understand if you're 
having trouble sleeping.  I just don't want you to think 
you can't talk to me."

She smiled and leaned her head on his shoulder.  "No, I 
know."

Ethan yawned and patted her leg.  "You think maybe you want 
to come back to bed?"

"Yes."  

He took her hand as they stood.  "A liver-eating mutant," 
he said, shaking his head.  "I'm sorry, Dana, but that 
story makes no sense."

"To me either," she agreed through a yawn.  Except when she 
was talking to Mulder.  Somehow when he explained it, 
everything seemed plausible.  She found herself agreeing to 
the impossible.

She cast a last look at the phone as Ethan led her back to 
bed.

"Sweet dreams," he said, pulling her close.

But behind her eyes a family of Toomses sat down to 
Thanksgiving with plates piled high with liver.

~*~*~*~*~*~

As June slipped into July, summer thickened at the waist, 
feeding off the heat of the city.  Scully and Ethan rose 
late on Sunday, sun already streaking through the windows 
as the temperature rose inside her apartment.  Ethan cooked 
eggs wearing just a pair of shorts while Scully went in 
search of the morning Post.

Yawning, she bent to retrieve the paper.  Instead of a fat 
slab of Washington Post, she came away with an anemic sheaf 
of paper that read "Scottsbluff Star-Herald" at the top.  
It was a Nebraska paper dated three days ago.

"What the hell?"  Scully glanced up and down the hall but 
saw no other papers.  She flipped the Star-Herald over, 
squinting at the headlines.

"New School Bus Route Debated"

"Twister Touches Downtown"

And there, at the bottom left, "Wife Says Husband Is 
Imposter."

Scully swallowed a curse and slammed the front door.  From 
the kitchen, Ethan called, "Dana?  Is everything okay?"

Scully ignored him and picked up the phone.  As it rang 
through, Mulder answered.  "Hello?"

"If you're going to drop by so early, you might as well 
stay for breakfast."

"Um, Scully?  What are you talking about?"  He sounded 
genuinely confused, not gloating or mocking as she might 
have expected. 

Scully looked down at the paper in her hand.  "You didn't 
come by here this morning and leave something for me?"

"If you like, you can come here and verify the size of the 
ass-dent in my sofa," he replied.  "I haven't moved since 
around 3 AM.  Why?  What do you have?"

Scully stared at the grainy image of an older couple posed 
in church clothes.  "Agnes Deluth claims Kenneth Deluth, 
her husband of twenty-one years, is alien imposter," the 
paper said.  Scully tightened her grip as the hairs on the 
back of her neck stood up.  

Not again, she thought.  She remembered Mulder staggering 
dazed and confused from Ellens Air Force Base.

"Scully?" Mulder prompted.  "You thought I left something 
for you?"

"It's nothing," she answered quickly, flushing even as she 
lied.  "I, uh--must have been some mix-up with Ethan."

Mulder chuckled.  "Believe me, Scully, if I ever start 
leaving you flowers and chocolates, I'll be sure to sign my 
name."

"Sorry to have bothered you," she said, and hung up the 
phone.

Ethan came into the room holding a spatula.  "Eggs are 
done.  Who's on the phone?"

"No one."  He turned and she shoved the Nebraska paper in 
between two books on her bookshelf.

"You get the paper?" he called over his shoulder. Scully 
grabbed two plates.

"We didn't get one this morning," she answered, the lies 
coming faster now.  She washed them down with orange juice 
and a side of eggs.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Friday night found Mulder bouncing a basketball underground 
as he waited for one of the Gunmen to let him inside.  At 
last, they buzzed him in and he dribbled through the door.  
"I'm supposed to be playing two-on-two tonight, boys," he 
said as he entered.  "This better be good."

"Mulder, come on in, man," Langly said.  "We ordered 
pizza."

Mulder faked left with the ball but then threw it hard at 
Frohike, who caught it in the kitchen with a guttural 
"oomph."  "I didn't come here to eat, thanks.  You guys 
said it was important.  What gives?"

The Gunmen exchanged a look. "Why don't we all sit down?" 
Byers suggested.

"UFO crash?" Mulder guessed.  "Alligators in the sewers 
again?  You guys looking to start a local chapter of Geeks 
Anonymous?"

"Show him," Frohike said to Byers as they all took a seat.

Byers pulled out a folded newspaper.  "This came across our 
radar last week."

"You have radar in Nebraska?" Mulder asked as he scanned 
the paper.  "I knew those machines were powerful, but this 
really takes the cake."

"Never mind how we got it," Frohike said.  "What matters it 
what we did with it."  He pushed out his chin.  "Turn it 
over."

"Wife Says Husband Is Imposter," Mulder read from the 
bottom.  He quit the wise cracks and sat forward on the 
sofa.  "This is dated ten days ago.  How long have you had 
this?"

"A while," Frohike said, expelling a slow breath.

"This looks similar to the case in Idaho," Mulder murmured 
as he read.

"Possible," Byers agreed.

"Look where the guy works," Langly added.

Mulder turned to the inside page.  "Genetech Laboratories.  
Rumor has it they are working on human cloning."

"The husband denies it in the article," Byers said.  "So 
does his brother, the president."

"Ken Deluth is an MIT graduate and head of the research and 
development division," Mulder read.  He lowered the paper.  
"And possibly the company's pet guinea pig.  I can't 
believe you guys waited this long to tell me about this."  
Mulder stood up.  "I've got to call Scully."

"Mulder, wait," Frohike said.

"I've waited too long already."  Mulder was searching for 
his ball.  "I can get a flight out tonight and--"

"It's about Scully," Byers said, and Mulder stopped 
searching.

"What?"

"You said not to bug her," Frohike began.  "We didn't."

"We've been worried," Byers broke in.  "Ever since you said 
she might be a spy."

Mulder bent to retrieve his ball.  "Thanks, but I think 
I've got it covered."

"Like you had Diana covered?" Frohike challenged.  Byers 
stiffened, and Langly looked at the floor. Frohike glared 
at them.  "That's right.  I'll say it.  Someone's got to 
have the balls around here--"

"Diana has nothing to do with this," Mulder said evenly.  
"That situation was totally different."

Frohike's face softened.  "She fucked you over, man."

"She was not a spy.  Diana cared about the X-Files just as 
much as I did.  She believed."

Byers took a step forward. "She left and she took a bunch 
of files with her."

"She's keeping them safe," Mulder replied, sounding less 
certain.  He shook his head.  "This is bullshit.  I've got 
to go."

"We gave her the newspaper first," Frohike said as Mulder 
turned to leave.  Mulder stopped with his back to his 
friends.  "Scully," Frohike continued. "We dropped the 
paper off last Sunday at her place. We wanted to see what 
she'd do with it, if she would bring it to you or to them."  
Frohike hesitated. "She kept it from you, man."

Mulder's head fell back as he stared at the ceiling.  "You 
don't know that," he said at last.  "Maybe she never got 
it."

"She got it," Byers said softly.  "We made sure."

Mulder turned around.  "And you knew she hadn't said 
anything to me."

"You're here," Langly pointed out.  "Not in Nebraska."

"Sorry, Mulder." Frohike scuffed one boot on the cement 
floor.  "I know you liked her."

"I never said I liked her."  He resisted the urge to hurl 
his ball through the window.  Instead he said nothing, 
standing like a fool while his friends took pity on him.

"What are you going to do?" Byers asked finally.

"Catch the next plane to Nebraska," Mulder replied.  "A 
round-trip ticket for one."  He tossed the ball to Frohike 
again, who caught it easily.  "Watch my ball while I'm 
gone?"

Frohike gave him a crooked smile.  "Always."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Monday morning, Scully went down to the basement with 
coffee in hand, only to find a sight she had not 
encountered before -- Mulder's office was locked up tight 
as a drum.  Lights out, door locked, and she did not see 
Mulder around anywhere.

Scully squinted in the window but could deduce no clues as 
to his whereabouts.  She set her coffee down on top of a 
box and dug out her cell phone.  The answering machine 
picked up at his house.

"This is Mulder, and here is the beep."

"Mulder, it's me.  It's nine o'clock and your office is 
still locked up.  Just wondering where you are."

When she finished there, Scully tried his cell phone.  He 
picked up just before voice mail would have kicked in.  
"Mulder."

"Hi," she said.  "I'm standing outside your office and 
you're not in it."

"Ever the crack investigator, eh, Scully?" There was a hard 
edge to his tone Scully had not heard before.  She waited 
but he offered no further explanation.

"So where are you?"

"Out," he said flatly.  "Way out.  You're on your own 
today, Scully."

"Out working?"

"Personal day," he said.  She heard him spitting out a 
seed.

Scully frowned.  "Mulder, are you okay?"

"I'm just fine," he said, but it sounded like an insult.  
"Listen, I've got to go. Say hi to the stiffs for me, 
okay?"

"Mulder, wait--" But he had already hung up.  Scully looked 
at her phone and tried to figure out what the hell had just 
transpired.

She had the distinct impressed that she'd been ditched.

Coffee forgotten, she trooped back up the stairs to the 
requisitions office.  "Has Agent Mulder booked any travel 
in the past two days?" she asked.

"No, Ma'am," said the man with the computer.  "Last travel 
Agent Mulder had was week before last when you two went to 
Austin, Texas."

Scully drummed her fingers on the counter, already planning 
her next move.  "Thanks."

You should be glad, she told herself.  You don't have to 
tag along to Bumfuck this time.  You get to sleep in your 
own bed under sheets that aren't stained.

She poked at the elevator button.

Let him hare off, she thought, arms folded.  Let his ass go 
numb in some rented car while he sits outside under a 'no 
trespassing' sign at three in the morning.

The doors slid open and Scully wedged herself in among the 
crowd.  What was it this time, she wondered? Pink 
elephants?  Psychic midgets?  Maybe an unusual pattern of 
IRS audits around Area 51?

Remember the last time you tried this, she fumed at Mulder 
silently.  Remember how well that worked out for you?

Ellens Air Force Base.  Kidnapped Mulder.  Strange human 
testing.

Scully suddenly remembered the newspaper burning a hole in 
her bookshelf and knew immediately where Mulder was.

"Shit," she said, and the rest of elevator turned to stare.

Scully hit the button to go back down to requisitions.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Thunderstorms slowed air travel through the Midwest, so 
Scully did not catch up with Mulder until dark.  She 
checked in to the motel room next to his and knew exactly 
where to find him: parked in a rental car outside the fence 
surrounding Genetech Labs. 

He ducked when her headlights hit his car; she saw the 
brown hair disappearing under the dash.  Subtle, Mulder, 
she thought.  No wonder you get your ass captured every 
five minutes.

Scully killed the engine and went to rap on his window.  
Mulder sat up and blinked at her.  She motioned for him to 
roll it down.  After a long minute, he complied.

"Go away, Scully," he told her.  "This doesn't concern 
you."  He went back to surveying the company through 
binoculars. 

"The hell it doesn't concern me.  I'm your partner.  That 
means we're supposed to work together.  Who are you to make 
decisions about what does and doesn't concern me?"

"You made that decision yourself." He lowered the 
binoculars and narrowed his eyes at her.

"Let me guess: you're the one who put the paper outside my 
door.  I should have known.  What was it, some sort of 
test?"

"If it was, you failed with flying colors."

"Why, because I didn't come running out to Nebraska to 
chase a silly newspaper story?"

"Because you didn't come to me."

Scully shut her mouth.  She put her hands on her hips and 
looked around at the trees. "There is no such thing as 
human cloning, Mulder."

Mulder flicked a seed out the window, and it landed at her 
feet.  "Then there is no need for you to be here."

She glared at him but he held her gaze.  "Go home, Scully," 
he said.  He sounded tired.

Instead of going home, Scully went around and climbed in 
the passenger seat.  Mulder sighed.  He picked up the 
binoculars again but did not say anything to her.  Usually 
when they sat like this, she could not get him to shut up.

Scully fingered the edge of her windbreaker.  Mulder 
crunched seeds.  "Have you found anything?" she asked at 
last.

He shrugged.

"Did you talk to Agnes Deluth?"

"Yes, I did."  He spat out another seed.

"And?"

"And she thinks her husband is an imposter."

When he did not elaborate, Scully sat back in her seat.  
Her cell phone rang.  Mulder appeared to pay no attention 
as she answered it.  "Scully."

"Dana, where are you?  Dinner is getting ready to burn 
here."

Scully closed her eyes.  "Ethan.  Sorry.  I'm afraid I 
won't be there for dinner."

"It would have been nice to hear that sooner."

"Yes, I know.  I'm sorry."

Ethan gave an annoyed sigh.  "When will you be home?"

"I don't know.  I'm working a case."

"Wait, you're not in the city?"

"Define city," she said lamely.

"Dana..."

"I'm in Nebraska.  I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner, but 
I left in a hurry and I just didn't think."

"You just didn't think.  That's supposed to make me feel 
better?"

"Sorry," she said again.

"You always are."  Ethan sighed again.  "Call me," he said.  
"If you think of it."

"I will."

They said goodbye and hung up.  Mulder was still watching 
the brick building in the distance.  "Trouble on the home 
front?"  Scully ignored him, and he turned to eyeball her.  
"You know you really shouldn't run off without telling a 
person where you're going."

"Funny," she said, but he looked amused for the first time 
since she'd gotten there.  Mulder returned his attention to 
the building.  "So are you going to tell me what you've 
found, or am I going to have to go buy my own pair of 
binoculars?" she asked at length.

Mulder lowered the glasses.  "See those lit windows on the 
fourth floor?  Those are corporate headquarters where Ken 
Deluth works.  There seems to be two shifts of workers -- 
one nine to five; the other six to four AM.  You want to 
know something strange?  Deluth has an identical twin."

Scully arched an eyebrow.  "Working here?"

"They all do.  Deluth, his brother Steve, and the wife 
Agnes.  Of course she's been off lately since her 
accident."

"Accident?"

"Seems Agnes was involved in a hit-and-run about three 
months ago.  Spent three weeks in the hospital.  When she 
got out, that's when she started complaining that the 
husband she came home to wasn't the same one she had when 
she went in."

"And you're thinking that's when they made the switch."

"It would give them the opportunity, yes."

"And what about the motive?"

"The Deluth brothers founded this corporation with an eye 
toward human cloning.  Who better to serve as test 
subjects?"

"I'd want to make sure the kinks were out first before I 
tried it."

"Who's to say they didn't?  We don't know this is the first 
time they've tried it.  It may be just the first time 
they've gotten caught."  He scooped out another handful of 
seeds.  "Rumor has it the Deluth marriage was in trouble.  
Kenny boy may have been looking for an easy way out."

Scully smiled.  "Oh, of course.  Marriage gone stale?  
Stuck in a rut at work? Just send in the clones!"

"Don't worry, they're here," Mulder replied, grinning back.  
Scully shook her head.

"Okay, then.  So where is the original Kenneth Deluth in 
all this?"

"Maybe taking a world cruise," Mulder suggested.  "Or maybe 
he just lives in the office."

"You're kidding me."

Mulder shrugged.  "The light never goes off."  He peered 
through the binoculars again.  "There they go now.  Take a 
look."

He handed her the glasses.  Scully saw two identical men 
exiting the building.  One held a briefcase, and they were 
talking animatedly about something.  For just a second, she 
imagined she was seeing a man and his clone.  Her skin 
tingled.

"What does Steven Deluth do at the company?" she asked as 
Mulder took the binoculars back.

"He's the president.  I think he's the one with the 
briefcase, but I can't be sure."

Scully leaned forward to get a closer look out the 
windshield.  "There's a car pulling up."

"I see it."

Scully strained, but she could not see what was going on.  
A second later, Mulder swore and smacked the steering 
wheel.  Scully jumped.  "What?"

"You had to do it, didn't you?  You just had to go running 
upstairs to tattle."

"Mulder, what are you talking about?"

"It's one thing to keep things from me.  It's another to go 
behind my back--"

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

"You took that newspaper to Blevins!  You told him 
everything!"

"Mulder, I swear.  I never told anyone."  She dug inside 
her windbreaker and pulled out the rumpled front section.  
"Look, here it is.  I didn't give it to anyone."

"So you made a copy."  Mulder sounded disgusted.

Scully swallowed.  "I didn't.  I kept it on my bookshelf 
until today.  Mulder, you have to believe me."

His look said, give me one reason why I should.  She had 
none.

"I didn't tell anyone," she repeated.  "I--I saw the 
similarity to our previous case.  I thought you had given 
me the paper.  When you denied it, I thought maybe it was 
that man..."

"What man?"

"The man you met in the bathroom.  The man who said it was 
dangerous.  I thought maybe it was a trap."

"A trap," he said, shaking his head.

"Yes," she replied stubbornly.  "A nothing case meant to 
lure you out into the middle of nowhere so they could hurt 
you again."

He silently handed her the binoculars.  Scully accepted 
them, and after a beat, she raised them to look past the 
fence toward the men. Ken and Steven Deluth had been joined 
by a third man.  They stood talking by a long, dark car.  

Scully shifted, trying to see the third man's face in the 
dim light.  It flashed suddenly as he lit a cigarette.  
Scully let the binoculars fall to her lap.  She stared at 
Mulder.

He nodded at her.  "Still think it's a nothing case?"

~*~*~*~*~*~

Back at the motel, Mulder slipped his key in the lock as 
Scully cut the headlights on her car behind him.  "Mulder," 
she said, jogging up to him as he opened the door.  Mulder 
waited without looking at her.  "Who is that man?"

"You would know better than I.  You're the one who spends 
all that time up in Blevins's office with him."

"He never says a word."

Mulder tapped his key on the doorframe.  "To me either."

"You don't know his name?  His position?"

Mulder hesitated, and then shook his head. 

"Well, he's got to be somebody.  Blevins must know."

"Scully--"

"What?"

"You've got to pick your battles."

"I thought you were saying this man is the battle."

"He's part of it," Mulder conceded.

"Then we go after him.  We find out who he is and what he 
knows."

Mulder laughed and looked at the stars.  "What the hell do 
you think I'm doing here, Scully?"

Scully faltered.  "I-- I don't understand.  You knew that 
man was involved in this case?"

"No, I didn't know," he said as though she were five years 
old.  "That's the point.  I am here to find out."

"Oh."

"That man, whoever he is, has politicians and industry 
presidents alike in his pocket.  There's a reason no one 
tells you his name; they probably don't know what it is 
either.  You think we can just march in there and take him 
on?  Give me a break.  The only way we're going to know 
what he knows is to show up at these places and take quick 
notes, because neither he nor the evidence is going to hang 
around very long."

"I see."  She looked at the ground.  "I'm sorry."

Mulder nudged the door open again with his foot.

Scully took a deep breath.  "You want to get something to 
eat?"

"No, you go ahead.  I'm going to turn in."

"Okay.  Night, then." 

She was still standing there, so Mulder turned to look at 
her.  "Tomorrow we can go see Agnes Deluth."

Scully gave a quick nod and wiped her palms on her pants.  
"Tomorrow.  Got it.  I'll be here."

He smiled and shook his head.  "Good night, Scully," he 
said, and shut the door behind him.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Agnes Deluth had graying brown hair and an apple-shaped 
body.  She served them over-sweet iced tea while relaying 
her tale from a flowed armchair.  "I told all of this to 
the other agent," she said.

"Other agent?" Scully asked.  "You mean Agent Mulder?"

"The one who looks just like him, yes."

Scully shifted to look at Mulder, who spread his hands in 
confusion.  "You spoke to someone who looked like Agent 
Mulder?"

"Spitting image.  He was nicer, though.  Asked me about 
Kenny."

"That was me," Mulder said, sitting forward.  "I was here 
asking you about Kenny yesterday.  Remember?"

"Oh, no, dear." She smiled.  "That wasn't you.  It was the 
other one."

Scully frowned.  "Mrs. Deluth, you were in a car accident 
recently?"

"I don't remember it, but they tell me that's what 
happened.  Someone hit me and drove off again, don't you 
know.  I was in the hospital a long time, and the car was 
totally ruined."

"And when you got out of the hospital, that's when you 
first noticed a change in your husband?"

Her thick brow furrowed.  "Well, no.  They both came to 
visit me in the hospital."

"You mean Kenny and Steven?"

"No, Steven was there too.  But I'm talking about Kenny and 
the other one."

"Mrs. Deluth," Scully asked, "what kind of injuries did you 
sustain from your accident?"

"I broke two ribs!  It still hurts when I sneeze sometimes.  
Cuts and scrapes.  I got a concussion -- that's a bad bump 
on the head. Oh, and a pin in my left leg.  That's why I 
walk kind of funny."

"Sounds like you've been through a lot.  Will you excuse me 
just a moment?  I'd like to talk to Agent Mulder a moment."

"What's up?" Mulder asked as she led him into the narrow 
foyer. 

"I want you to go outside and ring the bell again."

"What?"

"Just do it, okay?"

Mulder left and Scully re-entered the living room. "Sorry 
about that," she said to Agnes.  Mulder rang the bell.

"Oh, the door.  Let me just go see who it is."  Scully 
followed her to the front, where Agnes re-admitted Mulder.  
"Why, hello," she said.  "We were just talking about you."  
She turned to Scully.  "This is the young man I was telling 
you about, from the other day.  Come in, come in.  I'll get 
you a glass of tea."

"I already have tea," Mulder said, but the woman bustled 
off anyway.  Mulder bent down to Scully.  "What's going 
on?"

"I'll explain later," Scully whispered back as their 
hostess returned with tea.  When they were reseated in the 
living room, Scully asked her, "How did you know that your 
husband was an imposter?"

"It's hard for people to tell," Agnes acknowledged.  
"That's why no one believes me.  He looks just the same as 
ever on the outside.  But inside, he's got no soul.  He's 
just an empty vessel."  Her chin quivered.  "I keep asking 
to him to tell me what he's done with Kenny, but he won't 
tell me.  I hope he hasn't hurt him."

"I'm sure your husband is safe," Scully said.

Agnes sniffed.  "You know where Kenny is?"

"I have an idea.  Let me talk to the doctors and get back 
to you, okay?"

The woman nodded.  Mulder leaned forward and put his tea on 
the coffee table.  "Mrs. Deluth, was your husband ever in 
the hospital that you know about?"

"Kenny?  He's as healthy as a horse.  Never been sick more 
than a day in his life.  Worst he ever did was break his 
arm when he fell off a horse as a kid."

Scully stood up.  "I want to thank you for the tea and for 
taking the time to answer our questions."

"You believe me, right?" Her large brown eyes searched 
Scully's face.  "You believe me about Kenny?"

"Yes, I believe you."

They said their goodbyes and Mulder followed Scully out the 
door.  "You believe her?"

"I believe she thinks her husband is an imposter.  I don't 
know why I didn't think of it sooner, Mulder.  Probably 
because it's so rare."

"Think of what?"

"Capgras syndrome," she said as they reached the car.  
"It's named after the Frenchman who first identified the 
disorder.  People afflicted with it come to think that 
their loved ones are imposters.  Often it's a close 
relation, such as a spouse or a parent, but I've seen 
documented cases where the patient believes their dog is an 
imposter.  I think Agnes Deluth is suffering from Capgras 
syndrome as a result of her accident."

"That's why she didn't recognize me?"

"She did recognize you.  She just didn't think you were 
you.  Capgras syndrome occurs when the visual part of the 
brain is unharmed but it becomes disconnected from the 
emotional part of the brain.  You recognize that you know a 
person, but you don't have the expected emotional reaction 
to their presence.  That's why they seem like imposters."

"I don't know.  Why would the company call in the big guns 
if it's just some sick old woman we're talking about?"

Scully considered. "The company had admitted their interest 
in cloning.  Maybe they have had some success.  Maybe 
there's something else going on there they don't want 
anybody to know about, and they don't like the interest 
Agnes Deluth's claims are bringing to their company."

"Could be."

"I'd like to go to the hospital and see her medical 
records.  We might be able to tell from an MRI if there is 
damage that's associated with Capgras Syndrome."

"Good idea.  And while you're doing that, I'll look into 
Ken Deluth's medical records."

"What for?"

"I want to know about that broken arm.  If the new Ken 
doesn't have a matching scar, well..." He broke off 
meaningfully.

"What do you plan to do, Mulder? Kidnap Ken Deluth and run 
his arm through an X-ray machine?"

"I haven't thought that far," he admitted.  "First I want 
to confirm that Ken Deluth suffered the break."

They split up at the hospital and met later in the 
cafeteria.  Scully was looking at a file and munching 
potato chips when Mulder slid into the booth across from 
her.  

He stole a chip.  "Ken Deluth did fall off a horse at eight 
years old and break his right arm."  To illustrate, he 
pulled out a copy of the X-ray.

"Yes, and Agnes Deluth did suffer damage in the limbic 
cortex near her right amygdala."  Scully showed him the 
scan.

Mulder looked at the two pieces of medical evidence lying 
on the table.  "No way of knowing whose trump is higher at 
this point," he said.

"I say we go talk to the Deluths again," Scully replied.  
She grabbed the chips from him just as he was about to help 
himself again.  "Bring your X-ray machine if you like."


Mulder rolled the car to a stop just down the street from 
the Deluth house.  "Looks like we're late to the party," he 
said.  Two squad cars and an ambulance sat out front, all 
with lights blazing.  A dozen neighbors lurked on the 
sidelines.

Mulder and Scully slammed their car doors in unison and 
walked toward the Deluth home.  A uniformed officer stopped 
them at the edge of the lawn.  "Mulder, FBI," Mulder 
explained as he flashed his ID.  "This is Agent Scully.  
May we ask what's going on here?"

"Homicide, sir."

At that moment, two detectives emerged from the house, one 
of them gripping Agnes Deluth by the arm.  She was sobbing.

"Who's the victim?" Mulder asked.

"Husband, Ken Deluth," the officer replied.

Mulder and Scully pushed past him.  "FBI," Mulder said, 
stopping the detectives.  "We've been questioning this 
woman pursuant to a federal case."

"Well, you're going to have to ask your questions from the 
county jail," the answered the heavy-set detective.  "We've 
got the gun and the confession."

"You shot him?" Mulder asked Agnes.

"He wouldn't tell me.  He wouldn't tell me what happened to 
Kenny!"

"Let's go," said the detective as he tugged her away.  "You 
want to talk to her, you can get in line."

"Dammit." Mulder kicked the stone step.

Scully blew out a breath that stirred her bangs.  "It's my 
fault. I should have considered.  Capgras sufferers can 
occasionally become violent with the people they suspect of 
being imposters."

"He had no soul!" Agnes cried just before they stuffed her 
in the back of a patrol car.

A few minutes later, the coroner's men brought Ken Deluth's 
covered body out the front door.  "The X-rays," Mulder 
said, perking up.  "They'll do x-rays, right?"

"Possibly.  The cause of death here is not in dispute, 
Mulder.  They may just remove the bullet."

"Then you've got to do it."

"Mulder--" She shut her mouth at the look on his face.  
"I'll see what I can do."

~*~*~*~

Mulder was waiting outside in the hall when she finished.  
Still in scrubs, Scully went to tell him the news.  "Agnes 
Deluth shot her husband, Ken," she said as the door swung 
shut behind her.

Mulder stopped chewing his thumbnail. "He had the break?"

"Yep."  Scully leaned against the wall to brace her aching 
back.  "One healed fracture to the right ulna, just where 
the records said it should be."

Mulder leaned on the opposite wall.  "Doesn't prove 
anything," he argued eventually.  "Maybe they switched him 
back.  Maybe the clone is hiding somewhere--"

"Mulder--"

"That's why they brought the Smoking Man in.  Things were 
heating up, they knew we were here, and so they called the 
whole test off."

"Mulder."

He looked at her.  "What?"

"She wouldn't have shot him."  Off his look, she explained, 
"Agnes did not recognize the man in there as her husband.  
If, as you are supposing, they had substituted a clone and 
then switched the real Ken back in, Agnes should have 
recognized him when he came through the door.  She would 
have welcomed him back, not shot him in the head."

Mulder's shoulders sagged.  Scully did not get much thrill 
in being right.

"Sorry," she said.

He hung his head.  "Yeah."

"I'll clean up," she said.  "We can get dinner."

"No, thanks.  I wouldn't be very good company right now."  

He left her alone in hallway, walking the down the dark 
corridor and out into the night.

Exhausted, Scully pushed away from the wall and went back 
inside the autopsy bay.  She was cleaning her tools when a 
second body was wheeled into the room in a bag.

"Where would you like her?" the young EMT asked.

"Like who?"

"Agnes Deluth."

Scully's scalpel clattered the floor.  "Agnes is dead?"

"Hanged herself in her cell.  We've got orders to put her 
on ice."

"I'll do it."

"Suit yourself."  They left the morgue, and Scully walked 
over to the body bag.  She unzipped it far enough to see 
Agnes's line, anguished face.  An ugly red mark ringed her 
neck.

Scully zipped her back up and went to find her phone to 
give Mulder the bad news.  Her hand was on the phone when 
she stopped again.

Scully slipped the phone in her pocket and went back to the 
body.  This time she unzipped the bag all the way.  She 
palpated the ribs and the knee.

Then she got out the X-ray machine.

~*~*~*~*~

"Yeah, come in," Mulder called at the knock on the door.  
He muted the ball game as Scully entered the room.

"I brought pizza," she said.

"I told you I wasn't hungry."

"I know, but I can't remain upright any longer without some 
form of sustenance.  I won't make you eat any."

"And you need to eat it in here because?"

She tossed a large envelope at him, which landed square on 
his chest.  "Agnes Deluth hanged herself in her jail cell 
tonight," she told him.

"Figures."  He opened the envelope.  "What's in here?"

Scully took a bite of pizza, bringing up a second hand to 
catch the dripping cheese.  "X-rays."

"You already told me they're a match."

"Not of Ken Deluth.  They're from Agnes."

"Yeah?"  He pulled out the pictures.  "What am I looking 
at?"

"A broken neck."  

"So?"

"So that's all I found.  No rib fractures.  No skull 
fracture.  No pin in her knee."

"Holy shit."  Mulder sat up and held the X-rays to the 
light.  "How did you get these?"

"I was there when they rolled her in."

"Rolled who in, that's the question," Mulder said as he 
studied the images.  "So we were right -- they are 
performing human cloning.  We just had the wrong guinea 
pig."

"We don't know that."

He shot her an exasperated look.  "You can disagree with me 
all you want, but these images don't lie."

"Steven Deluth wants both bodies cremated," Scully told 
him.

"I'll just bet he does. Scully, this is great work."

Scully colored and dabbed at her mouth with a napkin.  
"They don't prove anything."

"It's more evidence than we usually get."  He smiled at her 
and she smiled back.  "Hey," he said. "Got any more of that 
pizza?"

Scully stood and handed him the box.  "Keep it.  I'm done.  
I've got to go make a phone call."

"Ah, keep the home fires burning. Understood."  She turned 
to leave again, but he stopped her once more.  "Hey, 
Scully?"

"Yeah?"

"Nice work."

She smiled.  "Night, Mulder," she said from the door.

"Night," he replied with a mouth full of pizza.  He was 
still reading the X-rays.  Scully left him to his prize and 
closed the door behind her.

Back in her room, she kicked off her shoes and pulled her 
hair free of the ponytail.  She stretched out on the bed 
with the phone, already calculating how she could tell 
Ethan about her success without giving away anything 
confidential.

Scully rolled over as the phone began to ring.  Almost 
midnight there, but Ethan would still be up.

A minute later, the machine kicked in.

"Ethan, are you there?  It's me."  She waited but he did 
not answer the phone. 

~*~*~*~*~*~

End chapter three.  Continued in chapter four.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

UNIVERSAL INVARIANTS	

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

by syntax6

Chapter Four: Rock Meets Hard Place


The dream was always the same.  He could taste the sea in 
his mouth.  It was summer, the sand hot beneath his knees 
as he and Samantha built huge castle together.  The beach 
was crowded with other families, and soon half a dozen kids 
joined them in their effort.  Mulder knew his parents 
watched nearby, tucked under their umbrella with a basket 
of cold chicken and soda.

He and Sam were having a contest to see whose turrets could 
reach highest.  Mulder piled packed sand up so tall he lost 
sight of his sister on the other side.  Only her giggles 
and hurled insults gave her away.

Mulder stuck out his tongue in concentration, working 
harder, faster -- anything to beat her.  Sweat broke out 
across his back.

He looked up as the sun disappeared.  The beach turned 
dark.

"Samantha?" he called, but there was no answer.  He ran 
around the castle to find her abandoned pail and shovel, 
which he scooped up.  "Samantha!"

Only then did he realize she had left with the others.  The 
beach was empty.  

Mulder looked to the ocean and then he knew why they had 
run.  A huge wave was rolling in, high enough to drown them 
all.

Mulder could not move.  He watched it grow taller, closer, 
but his feet felt stuck in the sand.

"There goes the castle," he thought.

And woke up.

Mulder blinked at his ceiling.  His TV chattered but he did 
not turn his head to look at it.

"...missing since yesterday afternoon.  Patty Waeleski, age 
13, was walking home from a friend's house when she 
disappeared.  Her parents immediately phoned the police 
when Patty failed to show up for dinner.  Patty is a 
competitive gymnast whose family moved from Dayton, Ohio so 
their daughter could study with famed gymnastic coach David 
Matlock.  Matlock has trained six US Olympic gold 
medallists, and had recently stated that Patty could be an 
early favorite to win the all-around competition in Atlanta 
in 1996.

Although no one has confirmed an abduction, police say the 
FBI has been called in to consult on this case."

Mulder blinked again, lying still as a dead man.  A moment 
later, his phone began to ring.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Scully stopped by her cubicle to check email before 
trekking down the basement.  Her phone rang as she logged 
in, and it was Chief Blevins on the other end.

"Agent Scully, could I see you in my office now, please?"

"Certainly," Scully replied, though inwardly she was 
cringing.  The frequent trips to front office had seemed 
exciting at first, a fast track to the top; now she wished 
nothing more than to start at the ground floor.

"You wanted to see me, sir?" Scully asked as she entered.

Blevins motioned her into the room.  Scully looked around 
for the man with the cigarettes.  He was not present, but 
he nose told her he had called recently.

Scully took her customary seat in front of Blevins.  He was 
signing some papers and had yet to give her his full 
attention.  Scully folded her hands and waited.

"Agent Mulder won't be with you today," he said at last.  
He looked up.  "Possibly not for the full week."

"Excuse me?"

"He's off the X-Files for the moment.  Just a temporary 
reassignment."

"What--what am I supposed to do?"

He peered over the rims of his glasses at her.  "It's my 
understanding you and Agent Mulder enjoyed a recent sojourn 
to Scottsbluff, Nebraska."

Scully felt her cheeks turn pink.  "Sir, about that--"

"I'll look forward to reading all about it in your report."  
He returned to his work, dismissing her.

Scully pushed up from her chair.  "Sir?"

He looked at her again.  "Yes?"

"The girl that disappeared yesterday.  That's the case 
Mulder's been reassigned to, isn't it?"

"Yes."  He put aside his pen.  "Yes, it is."

Scully nodded.  "His choice?"

"Does it matter?"  Blevins leaned back in his seat and 
regarded her.  "Agent Mulder requested that the X-Files be 
reopened and assigned to him, and we granted that request.  
In return, he agreed to help us from time-to-time on cases 
of a more terrestrial nature."

"I see." She turned to leave.

"The children, Agent Scully.  He always comes for the 
children."

"Of course he does."  Their eyes met, and Blevins gave her 
a tight smile.

"I'll expect your report shortly, then."

Only when she had returned to her desk did it occur to 
Scully to wonder how exactly Blevins knew about their trip 
to Scottsbluff.

~*~*~*~*~*~

The press corps was camped three deep around the Waeleski 
household when Mulder arrived.  He flashed his ID at the 
uniformed officer on guard, who then led him inside to the 
detective in charge of the case.

"Ava Prescott," she said by way of introduction.  She had a 
slight gap between her front teeth and wore her dark hair 
in a knot at the back of her head.  "Thanks for coming."

"Anything so far?" Mulder asked.

"Nothing.  Her friend Sandra Alder says Patty left shortly 
after lunch, headed for home.  She was taking the cross-
town bus, but we've talked to the driver and he says she 
never got on.  No one has seen or heard from Patty since."

"Any chance she ran away?"

"Parents say no.  Barbara and Tom.  They're in the living 
room tearing their hair out.  Friend Sandra backs them up.  
She said Patty was in a good mood when she left, and she 
never mentioned running away from home.  She did, however, 
borrow ten dollars."

"Did she say what it was for?"

"No. Promised to pay her back Thursday, so that's another 
point against the runaway theory." 

Mulder nodded.  "Okay, I'd like to talk to the parents."  
Detective Prescott led him to the living room, where 
Barbara Waeleski sat with a second detective while her 
husband Tom paced the blue carpet.

"Mr. and Mrs. Waeleski?" Prescott said.  "I'd like to 
introduce Special Agent Fox Mulder from the FBI.  He needs 
to ask you some questions about Patty."

Barbara's hand shook as she dabbed her eyes with a tissue.  
"I know you," she said to Mulder.  "You found that man that 
killed the little Plecker boy last year."

"Yes, Ma'am."

"Is that why he's here?" Tom demanded of Detective 
Prescott.  "You think Patty is dead?"

"Not at all, sir," Mulder said.  "I've worked a lot of 
missing children cases in the past, and I'm just here to 
add another perspective."

"You find them alive?" Barbara asked.

"I start every case expecting to find them alive," Mulder 
told her.  Hoping was more like it, but he wasn't about to 
admit this to two grief-crazed parents.  "Detective 
Prescott tells me you last talked to Patty on Sunday 
morning?"

"At church," Barbara confirmed.  "She asked if she could go 
home with Sandra for lunch.  We said it was okay as long as 
she was back in time to get her homework done."

"Was Patty often late?"

"Not usually," her mother replied.

"Patty is a bit of dreamer," Tom said.  "Sometimes she gets 
her head stuck in the clouds and loses track of time.  But 
she's a good kid."

"Has she been having any problems at school lately?"

"Not that I know of," said Barbara.  "Her grades are okay.  
Her algebra teacher has complained a few times about the 
amount of time that Patty spends training, but she just 
doesn't understand how it is.  This isn't some after-school 
sports program Patty's in -- she's training for the 
Olympics."

"Problems with friends?"

"Patty doesn't have a lot of close friends," Barbara said, 
sounding regretful.  "She doesn't have time for it.  That's 
why we said she could go to Sandra's house for a few 
hours."

"What about any problems here at home?"

Tom narrowed his eyes at Mulder.  "What's that supposed to 
mean?"

"I just mean, did Patty give you any trouble?"

"The hell that's what you mean.  I know how this goes.  I 
watch TV.  A kid goes missing, and the parents are 
automatically responsible, right?"

"Mr. Waeleski, please," said Detective Prescott.

"Are you?" Mulder asked mildly at the same time.

"Am I what?" growled Tom.

"Are you responsible for Patty's disappearance?"

Tom made an inhuman noise and charged at Mulder.  A 
uniformed cop held him back.  "How dare you?  How dare you 
come into my house with my little girl missing and say I 
had something to do with it!"

Barbara looked like she was going to be sick.  "We would 
never hurt Patty," she whispered. "God, we never even 
spanked her."

"I know the questions are ugly," Mulder said, "but we have 
to ask them."

"Go to hell," Tom answered.

"Let me be honest with you," said Mulder.  "I am not here 
to paint you both as monsters.  But it's preferable that 
Patty ran away.  It makes it more likely she's safe right 
now and that we can find her quickly.  So all I am trying 
to do is determine if there was *anything* that might make 
Patty take off on her own."

"I--I'm trying to think."  Barbara looked panicked.  Tom 
still looked angry.  "Patty didn't argue with us much.  She 
was very rarely in any trouble."

"When was the last time?" Mulder asked.

"The last time she was in trouble?"  Barbara sat up, trying 
to focus.  "Three months ago, I guess.  She was horsing 
around with her brother in the backyard, climbing trees.  
She knows she's not supposed to climb the trees.  She 
slipped and sprained her wrist.  It set her training back 
weeks."

"Did you punish her?"

"We thought about it, but after the tongue-lashing she got 
from Coach Matlock, we didn't think we needed to say 
anything else."

Mulder nodded.  "Okay.  I'd like to take a look at Patty's 
room now, if that's all right."

"Why?" Tom demanded.  "You think we're hiding something up 
there?"

"Just to look around.  I'm trying to get a sense of who 
Patty is.  It will help us figure out what happened to 
her."

"Tom, be still," Barbara said.  "Of course you can look.  
It's right upstairs at the end of the hall."

Mulder walked silently up the carpeted stairs and down the 
hall.  Patty's door was closed.  She'd hung a replica of a 
stop sign on the front with a special message underneath: 
"This means you, Tommy."

Mulder opened the door, startling a little boy who was 
lying on the bed.  The boy looked to be about six years 
old; he had a Snoopy doll in a headlock.  "You must be 
Tommy," Mulder said.

The kid nodded.  "Are you the police?"

"FBI," Mulder said, handing over his ID.  Tommy studied it 
and handed it back.  "I'm helping the police look for 
Patty."

Mulder looked around at the pink and white bedroom.  An 
entire wall was devoted to gymnastic trophies and medals.  
On the desk sat two battered notebooks, each covered in 
stickers.  One read "History" on the front; the other was 
labeled "English."

Mulder picked up a framed photo of Patty and a black 
terrier.  Patty's blond hair was windblown and she was 
laughing as the dog licked her face.

"That's Mr. Pickles," Tommy explained.  "He died last 
year."

Tommy watched Mulder check out the room some more.  "She's 
not in here," he offered eventually.  "You should look 
someplace else."

"I'm not looking for Patty here," Mulder answered.  "I'm 
looking to see what she was doing before she disappeared."

"She was at church."

"Were you at church too?"  Tommy nodded.  "Did Patty tell 
you what she was going to do after church?"

"She was going to Sandra's."

"And after that?"  Tommy shrugged.  Mulder examined Patty's 
extensive CD collection.  "Your sister likes to listen to 
music, huh?"

"All the time.  Mom and Dad yell at her when she plays it 
too loud."

"Do they yell at her a lot?"

"Mmm, not all the time.  Mostly they yell at me."

"Yeah, my parents yelled at me too.  My sister would pick a 
fight, but I'd be the one to get into trouble.  Does that 
ever happen to you?"

"Oh, yeah.  Nothing's ever Patty's fault.  One time she 
took Mom's perfume and spilled it all over, but I got 
punished.  She said I'd knocked it over with my ball."

"What about the time you were climbing trees in the 
backyard?"

"Huh?"

"When Patty hurt her arm?"

Tommy's small face paled and he tugged Snoopy onto his lap.  
"Oh, yeah.  That was bad."

Mulder set aside Patty's possessions and knelt in front of 
the boy.  "Can you tell me about that day?"

"I don't know."

"Patty was climbing a tree with you?"

"I guess." He lowered his gaze and started swinging one 
foot back and forth.

"Where was your mom when it happened?"

"Mom was out.  Stephanie was watching me."  

"Stephanie is your babysitter?" Mulder guessed.

"Uh huh.  She was talking on the phone with her boyfriend 
when Patty came home from school."

"And that's when you decided to climb trees together?"

Tommy sucked on his bottom lip.

Mulder hesitated and then shifted closer.  "You know, my 
sister and I used to have secrets together.  I would tell 
her things that I didn't want our parents to know."

"Did she tattletale?"

"No," Mulder said solemnly.

"Being a tattletale is the worst."

"Yes, it is," Mulder agreed.  "But you know it's only 
tattling if you tell your parents.  If you tell someone 
else, it's okay."

Tommy considered this new loophole.  "I don't think so."

Mulder tried a new tack.  "What if I guess the secret?" he 
said.  "And you tell me if I'm right."

"Well... okay."

"I guess maybe Patty pushed you, and you pushed back and 
she fell.  That's how she hurt her arm."

"Wrong!"

Mulder pretended to think.  "I guess you were never 
climbing trees.  Is that right?"  

"Sort of.  I was climbing the tree."

"But Patty wasn't?"  Tommy shook his head.  Mulder's pulse 
picked up.  "Patty was already hurt when she came home from 
school?"

Tommy nodded.  "She was crying."

"Did she tell you what happened?"

"She said she fell at school.  She said Mom and Dad would 
kill her."

"And that's when you made up the tree story?"

"Yeah."

Mulder touched the kid's knee.  "Thank you for sharing the 
secret with me."

"Are you going to find Patty now?"

"I'm sure going to try."

Detective Prescott poked her head in the room.  "There you 
are," she said to Tommy.  "Your parents are looking for 
you.  I think lunch is ready downstairs."

Tommy scampered off with Snoopy while Prescott joined 
Mulder in the middle of the room.  "You find anything?"

"She lied about the injury," Mulder replied.  He relayed 
what Tommy had told him.

"So what do you think happened?" Prescott said.

"Damned if I know.  But I'll lay odds it wasn't a fall."  
He picked up one of her notebooks and flipped to the back 
page.  Patty had written, "Mrs. Tricia Yearling" in curvy 
script over and over again.  Mulder showed Prescott.

"Yeah, we saw that. Evan Yearling is a boy in her class.  
Sandra said all the girls had crushes on him.  We checked, 
but he was playing in a youth soccer league game at the 
time Patty went missing."

Mulder looked down at the loopy lettering. "She writes her 
name as Tricia, not Patty."

"Trying on a new identity, maybe?  When I was thirteen I 
wanted my friends to call me Jezebel."

Mulder did a double take.  Prescott shrugged.

"I'd see these older girls go by with their makeup and 
tight dresses, and my mother would say, 'She's such a 
Jezebel.'  Sounded good to me!"

Mulder smiled and continued flipping through the notebook.  
"Well, at the very least, it suggests that Patty wasn't 
entirely comfortable with the box she was in.  That's 
something."

The pages were filled with notes on American history.  In 
the margins, Patty doodled hearts and flowers.  She also 
liked to take names and change the letters around to spell 
something else. 

BENEDICT ARNOLD became DARN NOBLE EDICT.

"Wait, look at this," Mulder said.  In the midst of the 
American Revolution, Patty had paused from her notes to 
write, "I hate her. I hate her.  I hate her."  The tiny 
print scrolled across the top of one page.

"That's odd," Prescott remarked.

"It's around the time Patty hurt her wrist.  I wonder who 
she's talking about."

"I can check again with Sandra.  She might know."

"You do that."  Mulder snapped the notebook shut.

"What, you're not coming?"

"No, I'm going shopping.  I want to see what ten dollars 
buys you at the bus stop."

Mulder exited the house, taking care not to make eye 
contact with the press as he strode across the lawn to his 
car.  "Mulder," called one voice.  The only one to address 
him by name.

Mulder made the mistake of looking over his shoulder. 
Scully's boyfriend was dogging him with a camerawoman in 
tow.  "Hey, Alan."

"Ethan," the guy corrected.  "I know we haven't been 
formally introduced.  You're working this case?"

"That's right, so I better get to it."  Mulder had not 
slowed down.

"I thought you didn't do this sort of work anymore.  Or is 
there a paranormal angle here I don't know about?"

"I don't know what you've heard, but this is the sort of 
work I do every single day.  I solve crimes for the FBI."

"Is that what this is?  A crime?"

Shit, Mulder thought, berating himself for even getting 
into this conversation.  "No comment."  He opened his car 
door.

"Come on, Agent Mulder.  We're on the same side here.  
We're just trying to help find the girl."

"You want to help?  You point that thing at her picture and 
make sure everyone in the country knows what Patty looks 
like."

"We've already done that."

"Do it again."  Mulder got in and slammed the door behind 
him.

~*~*~*~*~

Mulder started his search at the bus stop where Patty would 
have picked up the bus on Sunday afternoon.  It was a trip 
she had often made before, Prescott said, so Patty would 
know the area.

He looked up and down the busy street.  There was a food 
market on one corner and a clothing store on the other.  He 
set off in the direction of the clothing store.

The mannequins in the window wore tight dresses in bright 
summer colors.  Mulder remembered what Prescott had told 
him about Jezebel and ducked inside.

He showed Patty's picture around but no one remembered 
seeing her on Sunday.  

"Nothing you can buy in here for ten dollars," the clerk 
said, full of disdain. 

Mulder continued down the street.  He tried a candy store 
and comic book shop but no one admitted to seeing Patty.  
At a crossroads, Mulder considered his options.  One way 
ran down to the park.  It was possible Patty went tree 
climbing on her own.

In the other direction, Mulder saw a large used CD store.  
He remembered Patty's collection.  "Pay dirt," he said to 
himself as he broke into a jog.

Inside the store, grunge music blared from the speakers.  
Bins of CDs packed the place, with choice items featured in 
displays around the walls.  Customers were sparse.  Mulder 
spied a few college-aged kids checking out the 80s music 
section.

"Can I help you?" A balding, heavyset man wearing a faded 
Metallica shirt called to him from behind the counter.

"Are you the owner?" Mulder asked.

"Stanley Manning," the man said.  "Who wants to know?"

Mulder showed his ID.  "Were you working yesterday 
afternoon?"

"I work every Sunday afternoon."

"Did you see this girl come in here?  Maybe around two?"  
Mulder slid Patty's photo across the glass counter.

"You know how many kids I get in here on the weekends?" 
Manning answered.  "It's a friggin' zoo."  He looked at the 
picture.  "She's a real cutie.  This is that girl who went 
missing, right?"

"Her name is Patty Waeleski.  She was wearing jeans and a 
striped blue T-shirt."

Manning shook his head.  "Don't remember her.  Sorry."

"Think hard."  Mulder was almost sure the girl had been 
there.  "She liked the Beatles.  Also Nirvana."

"Sorry," Manning said, spreading his hands.  "I can show 
her picture to Brian.  He was here Sunday.  Maybe he 
remembers something."

"Do that."  Mulder walked around the shop while Manning 
went in search of Brian.  He found the Beatles bin and 
flipped through the CDs.

You were here, he thought.  I can feel it.

Ten dollars certainly would have covered a used CD 
purchase.  Mulder looked around and spotted a security 
camera in the corner.

"Brian don't remember her either," Manning said as he 
returned.  "Like I told you, it's crazy around this place 
on the weekends."

"I see you have security cameras. Any chance I could see 
the tape?"

"The tape?  Sure.  Only that one is working right now.  I 
keep meaning to have the other one fixed, but I haven't 
gotten around to it."

Mulder's heart thudded.  The working camera was the one 
aimed at the Beatles section.  "Please, I'd like to see 
what you have on tape for yesterday around two."

"I'll cue it up.  Come on back."

Manning sent Brian out to watch the store as he dusted off 
an old VCR.  He rewound the tape, keeping an eye on the 
counter.  "Should be about here," he said, hitting play.

As if by magic, Patty Waeleski appeared on the screen.  
Mulder felt the air sucked out of him.  

"Well, I'll be damned," Manning said. "That's her, ain't 
it?"

Both men watched as Patty combed through the bin.  She made 
a selection and tucked it under her arm as she kept 
searching.  The time on the tape read two seventeen.

Just before two twenty, Patty turned to look behind her. 
"Did someone call her?" Manning asked.

"I don't know."

Patty walked off screen in the direction of whatever had 
grabbed her attention.  She never came back.

"Holy shit," Manning said.

"Did she check out with that CD?" Mulder asked.

"Let me check.  Brian," he hollered.  "Find out if we sold 
any Beatles albums after two twenty yesterday!"

"Just a second," Brian called back.

"Now!"

"I'm going to need to take this tape," Mulder said.

"Of course, of course."  Sweat beaded Manning's lip.  "You 
think whoever took her grabbed her from my store?"

"I think it's a possibility."

Brian stuck his head in the room.  "No Beatles sold 
yesterday at all," he told them.

Manning crossed himself.  "Sweet Jesus."

~*~*~*~*~*~

Scully was slicing a tomato when she heard the door open.  
"In here," she called.  With Mulder gone, she beat Ethan 
home with time to spare.  She had already changed into 
shorts and a tank top and pulled her hair off her neck.

"Hey," Ethan greeted her.  He sank into a chair by the 
table.

"You look tired," she said.  "Long day?"

"You could say that." He rubbed his face with both hands.  
"You're home awfully early."

"Mulder has been temporarily reassigned, so I spent the day 
doing paperwork."

"Nice to have you home for dinner for a change."

"Ethan..."  She turned.  "Please don't start."

"Who's starting?"  He stood up and joined her at the 
counter.  "Looks good."

"It's so hot out, I figured we could eat light tonight.  
Leftover chicken and a salad."

"Mmmm, sounds perfect." He looped his arms around her from 
behind and kissed her cheek.  "Have I ever told you how 
much I love this outfit?"

Scully laughed and reached behind to ruffle his hair.  "I 
just bought it."

"So it's a newfound love."  His hands slipped under her 
shirt.

"Now you're definitely starting something," Scully said.

His nimble fingers opened the snap on her jean shorts. 
Scully's nipples tightened under her tank.  "Dana," he 
said, "it's been ages."

"A week," she said, her head lolling back.  She ran her 
hand down his thigh as he started a slow grind against her.

"Ages," he breathed near her ear.  His hands found her 
breasts, and dinner was forgotten.

Later, naked in bed, he traced figure eight patterns on her 
tummy.  "Feeling better?" she asked him sleepily.

"Mmm, much."  He kissed her forehead.  "And you? Is it back 
to mutants tomorrow?"

"I don't know.  Depends on Mulder.  He's working on 
Waeleski case."

"Tough case," Ethan said, continuing his caresses.

"The worst."

Ethan snuggled her close.  "You're lucky, you know. We have 
each other to keep things normal.  Who does Mulder have?"

"Mulder does okay," she replied.  "He has friends."

"Really, who?"

Scully had no answer.  "He plays basketball on the 
weekends," she said.  "I think he unwinds that way."

"He any good?"

Scully turned her head on the pillow to look at him.  "I 
haven't seen him play.  Why?"

"Just curious."

Scully rolled away.  "I'm going to take a shower.  You 
finish dinner."

"Aw..."

"Hey, I was all set to make it.  You're the one who had 
other ideas."

"Me?  What about you?"  He shifted into a breathless 
falsetto and clutched his chest. "Oh, Ethan.  Yes!  Yes!"

Scully poked her head around the door.  "What I didn't tell 
you is that I was fantasizing about the chicken the whole 
time."

Ethan threw a pillow at her.  "That's cold, woman.  Cold!"  
But he went to finish the salad.

They were just finishing dinner when the phone rang.  Ethan 
picked it up.  "Did you see the JLA report?" Melinda asked.

"No, what'd they get?"

"Exclusive with the parents.  No one's using the word 
kidnapped yet but all the signs are there.  I talked to 
Kimmy from the precinct. She says there may have been some 
break in the case, but she doesn't know what it is.  Need-
to-know basis and all that shit."

"Damn it."

"Yeah, well, Kruetzer wants to know what our angle is.  
What should I tell him?"

"Tell him I'm on it."

"I was thinking we could rent a movie," Scully said when he 
reappeared in the kitchen.

"Love to, but I can't.  That was Melinda.  We've got to 
edit some tape tonight."

Scully was stuck holding the dishes. "You've got to go 
right now?"

"Yep."  He kissed her cheek.  "Don't wait up."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Despite the dark, the city smoldered.  Heat radiated from 
the buildings and off the basketball court.  Mulder, his 
Knicks shirt soaked through with sweat, took free throws 
from the line.  Everyone else had the sense to be inside 
with the air-conditioning.

Well, almost everyone.  Mulder froze in mid-shot as he 
spotted a figure lingering near the fence.  Spotted, the 
man walked forward into the light.  Mulder turned his 
attention back to the basket and swished the ball through 
the net.

"You following me?" he asked.

"I'm following the story," Ethan answered.  He retrieved 
Mulder's ball and bounced it back to him.

"I'm not the story."  Mulder took another shot.

"I think you are."  Again, Ethan returned the ball.  
"You're the superstar, right?  The Michael Jordan of 
profilers?  They must have brought you in for a reason."

"A little girl is missing. That's reason enough."

"Lot of theories going around about what happened to her."

Mulder made another basket.  "Yeah?"

"You have a favorite?"

"If I did, I certainly wouldn't tell you."

"Come on, Mulder.  We can work together on this."

"I work alone."

"You work with Dana," Ethan said.

Mulder paused with the ball in hand.  "Leave her out of 
it."  He missed the next shot.  Ethan caught the ball and 
held it.  Mulder tilted his head.  "What I want to know is, 
just what you think you can do to help me."

Ethan tossed him the ball.  "I've done some homework. The 
Gramercy case three years ago, you used the press to 
communicate with the killer."

"You're assuming we have a killer this time."

"Aren't you assuming it?"

"I never assume."  Mulder resumed his free-throws. 

"People say things to the press," Ethan persisted.  "Things 
they don't tell guys with a badge."

That got Mulder's attention.  "You know something?"

"Maybe.  Do we have a deal?"

"I don't make deals.  If you know something that could help 
bring that little girl home and you're withholding it, I'll 
haul your ass to jail."

"Whoa, easy.  I don't know anything.  I swear."  Mulder 
gave him a hard look.  "But I might find something out.  If 
I did, I would share it with you."

"In exchange for what?"

"Nothing.  Maybe a little consideration is all."  Mulder 
ignored him, so Ethan snagged the ball again.  "Here, 
consider this a freebie.  I'm not saying this has anything 
to do with the case, okay? But I did a story on Coach 
Matlock for the last Olympics.  He drives those kids hard.  
I mean really hard.  Word has it he doesn't hesitate to pit 
them against one another if he thinks it will make them 
more competitive."

"Interesting."  Mulder kept his voice neutral.  He walked 
off the court and grabbed a bottle of water.  Ethan 
followed.
"I also heard there's been some sort of break in the case," 
Ethan said.  Mulder did not reply.  "Look, you know I'm 
going to find out eventually."

"So go find out."

Ethan shook his head.  "Fine.  Just trying to keep the 
lines of communication open, you know?"

"And I appreciate that," Mulder said, raising his water 
bottle in mock salute.  Ethan started walking away.  "Hey!" 
Mulder called, and Ethan turned again.  "Why are you so hot 
on this case, anyway?"

"Maybe it's got national attention.  Maybe because this 
could be my big break."  Ethan stooped to pick up a rock.  
"Maybe I have a little sister too."

He tossed the rock into the park and left without saying 
goodbye.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Curiosity drove Scully to the basement the next morning.  
She was not expecting to find Mulder, but the door was open 
and there he was.  He had the TV on and his feet up on the 
desk.

"Hi," she said.  "I wasn't sure you'd be here."

"Just fishing for your boyfriend?"

"Excuse me?"

"Ethan paid me a little visit last night on the basketball 
court.  He tried to strike up a deal.  I catch the bad guy, 
and he gets the story."

"Ethan talked to you?"  She still could not believe it. "He 
never said anything to me."

"I'm sure," Mulder agreed.  "He just magically knew how to 
find me."

Scully flushed at the rebuke.  "I'll talk to him."

Mulder waved a dismissive hand.  "Don't bother.  I can 
handle it."
Scully opened her mouth and shut it again. If that was how 
he wanted to play it, fine.  "What are you watching?" she 
asked.

Mulder tapped the VCR remote against his thigh but did not 
answer.

"Mulder?"

"I'm trying to decide how much I can tell you."

"Fine.  Forget I asked."  She turned on her heels to leave.

"It's a security camera shot of Patty Waeleski taken the 
day she disappeared," Mulder said, stopping her.  Scully 
walked back so she could see the TV.  Mulder hit "play."

Together they watched Patty make her Beatles selection and 
walk of the camera.

"See?  It's like someone called her name," Mulder said.

"Not a friend, though."

"What makes you say that?"

"She doesn't look happy to see them."

"Huh."  Mulder sat up.  "Good point."  His phone rang, and 
he groped for it with one hand.  "Mulder.  Yeah.  Okay.  
Say what?  All right, I'll be down as soon as I can."

Scully raised her eyebrows in inquiry as Mulder hung up the 
phone.  "The manager of the CD store has a history of 
sexual assault on a teenage girl," he explained.  "They're 
bringing him in for questioning."

"He grabbed her from his own store?"

Mulder shrugged.  "I've got to run.  See you."

Scully was left staring at the frozen image of Patty 
Waeleski as she prepared to step off the screen into 
oblivion.

"Yeah," Scully said to the empty room.  "See you."

~*~*~*~*~*~

She tracked Ethan down in the production studio.  "I need 
to talk to you," she said.  Melinda eyed her warily.

"Dana, honey, I can't talk right now.  We're crashing this 
piece for tonight.  Let's talk at home, okay?"

Scully looked up and saw Mulder on the tiny screen.  "We 
talk now, or I won't be at home when you get there."

Melinda winced.  Ethan gave her his full attention.  "Wow, 
okay.  Let's go in back, all right?"

He led her to a small kitchenette with a table and two 
chairs.  "You want to sit?"

"No, I don't want to sit.  God, you are such a bastard."

"What?  What did I do?"

"Oh, spare me the wounded puppy look, Ethan. You know damn 
well what you did.  All those innocent questions about 
Mulder last night.  You *used* me."

"Not--not intentionally."

"Bullshit."

"No, I swear."  He blocked her from leaving.  "Dana, I'm 
sorry.  I didn't mean to put you in the middle."

"Oh, the hell you didn't. You took me to bed and you 
wheedled the information out of me that you needed."

"It's not like that.  Really.  I didn't mean to... I wasn't 
trying to..."  He took a deep breath.  "I'm sorry."

"I'm not some source you can use up and throw away, Ethan."

"I know that."

"This is my job we're talking about."

"You want me to tell Mulder you had nothing to do with it?  
Because I will."

Scully gave a humorless laugh.  "No, I don't want you to 
talk to Mulder.  He wouldn't believe you anyway."

"What can I do?  What can I do to make this up to you?"

He looked genuinely contrite.  Scully shook her head.  "You 
can never, never do this again.  Ever."

"I won't."  He grabbed her and kissed her head.  "I'm 
sorry."

Scully leaned a cheek on his chest.  "Don't make me chose 
between you and Mulder, Ethan."

"I know.  Your job is important.  I hear you."

Scully pulled away.  "I'm saying you won't like my answer."  
She cupped his face briefly before leaving him alone with 
her ultimatum.

~*~*~*~*~*~

That night, Scully could not help herself.  She watched the 
evening news.  Ethan's piece aired after the update from 
the afternoon press conference, in which the public learned 
there was a suspect in the case.

Ethan started with a smiling picture of Patty.  "When a 
child goes missing," he said gravely in voice over, 
"everyone in law enforcement takes the case seriously.  
It's all hands on deck."

The shot shifted to Ethan standing in front of the Waeleski 
home.  "Each unit assigns its best and brightest to the 
case.  For the FBI, this means sending Fox Mulder."

He showed pictures of Mulder walking across the lawn.  
"Mulder established his dominance in the world of FBI 
profiling early, tracking serial killers with such ease 
that he earned the nickname, 'Spooky.'"

Ethan used file footage of Mulder on old cases.  "If you 
follow high profile cases, you may have seen his name 
before.  But what you may not know is the deeply personal 
reason that Mulder hunts these killers with such ferocity. 
Fox Mulder was only twelve years old -- a full year younger 
than Patty Waeleski -- when his eight year-old sister 
vanished from the family home.  Despite a lengthy search, 
Samantha Mulder's whereabouts were never determined and she 
remains a missing person to this day."

"No comment," Mulder said to the camera.

The shot returned to Ethan.  "Some have speculated that 
Agent Mulder's presence on this case means the FBI is 
tacitly acknowledging what many fear -- that young Patty 
Waeleski has met with foul play.  But one thing is for 
certain, the Waeleskis could not find a person more 
dedicated to bringing Patty home."

"We're doing everything we can to find her," Mulder said on 
camera.

"For this agent," Ethan said, "Patty is not just a little 
girl lost.  She is one more chance to get it right.  One 
more chance at salvation."

Ethan faded away just as Scully's phone rang.  "Hello," she 
said, rubbing her aching head.

"I'd be worried if I were you, Scully," Mulder said.  "I 
think your boyfriend may have a crush on me."

"Mulder."  She took a deep breath.  "I'm so sorry."

"Forget it. My dirty laundry's been out in public before, 
and it will be again."

"Did you talk to the owner of the CD store?"

"Manning?  Yeah.  He definitely has a record.  The cops 
like him for her abduction, but I'm not convinced."  He 
told her about Patty's mysterious injury.

"What are you going to do?" Scully asked when he had 
finished the tale.

"Keep digging, I guess.  I can't stop now.  This case is my 
one shot at salvation."

Scully closed her eyes, but Mulder chuckled.

"Tell Ethan I want to go steady, will you?"

Scully shook her head and smiled.  "Good night, Mulder."

~*~*~*~*~

End chapter four.  Continued in chapter five.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

UNIVERSAL INVARIANTS

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

by syntax6

Chapter Five: A Generation Lost in Space

"You know when I was a kid, I had this ritual. I closed my 
eyes before I walked into my room, cause I thought that one 
day when I opened them my sister would be there. Just lying 
in bed, like nothing ever happened. You know I'm still 
walking into that room, everyday of my life." -- Mulder in 
"Conduit"

~*~*~*

Scully awoke to streaming sun and the pungent smell of 
coffee. She scrunched deeper into the pillow, denying the 
obvious arrival of day. The mattress sagged behind her.

"Morning," Ethan said.  "I brought breakfast."

Scully shifted to squint at him.  He had a tray on his lap, 
loaded down with orange juice, coffee, a toasted bagel and 
cream cheese, and what looked like fresh cut strawberries.

He licked a stray bit of cream cheese from his thumb.  

"Come on," he said when she didn't say anything.  "I come 
in peace."

Scully sat up.  "What are you going to eat?"

"I'll grab a bagel on the way in.  I can't stay.  Got an 
early meeting."

Scully sipped the coffee and fingered the violet he'd stuck 
in a bud vase.  "You took this from my plant," she said.

"You're still mad."  He sighed and leaned back against the 
headboard.

"I'm not mad. I'm--" She hesitated, searching. 
"Disappointed."

"God, I think I'd rather have mad."

"Dredging all that stuff up about Mulder and his sister and 
putting it on TV -- how exactly does that help find Patty 
Waeleski?"

"It doesn't," he admitted.  "But that's not my job.  That's 
your job.  My job is to keep the public informed about 
what's going on with the case."

"So put the case on TV, not Mulder."

"At this point, my dear, they are one and the same.  
Besides, if I were Mulder, I'd want my mug on TV every 
chance I got."

She raised an eyebrow at him.

"If his sister is out there," he explained, "she might just 
see him."

Scully turned to regard him more seriously.  "You think 
she's still alive?"

"No."  He kissed her cheek.  "But Mulder does.  Have a good 
day.  I'll call you."

~*~*~*~*~

Blevins kept his office well chilled, and Scully suppressed 
a shiver as she stepped inside.  She checked quickly for 
the dark, smoking figure in the corner, but he was not 
present.  "You wanted to see me, sir?" she asked Blevins.

She made it a point not to sit.

"Mulder's got a new case," Blevins said, "and this one has 
raised some concern here that I hope you can allay."

"Mulder has a new case?  I thought he was still working on 
Patty Waeleski's disappearance."

Blevins placed his hands over his ample belly.  "Mulder's 
contribution to the Waeleski case was most welcome.  Thanks 
to him, we have a prime suspect."

"The CD store manager, Stan Manning.  I saw the news.  
Mulder said he doesn't believe Manning is guilty."

"If Manning is innocent, the investigation will show that."

"Patty is still missing.  I don't understand why you would 
remove Agent Mulder from the case."

"If you saw the news, then you shouldn't have to ask why."

Scully stiffened.  "You would take Mulder off an active, 
open case because of a little media attention?"

Blevins gestured vaguely.  "Agent Mulder is not off the 
case per se.  For a variety of reasons, we felt his talent 
would be better utilized elsewhere right now.  If we have a 
development in the Waeleski case that requires his 
attention, you can be sure we will notify him immediately."

"Sir, don't you think the public will find it odd that a 
major news broadcast heralds Mulder as the Waeleski's best 
hope and the very next day the FBI removes him from the 
case?"

"It's not my place to cater to public opinion, Ms. Scully.  
The public can rest assured we have a number of our very 
best agents working the case.  Mulder was brought in to 
identify a suspect, a job he performed ably."  

His tone made it clear that the topic was closed, but 
Scully could not leave it alone.  "I can't believe you 
would take him from the case with the girl still missing."

"Even if it is to look for another missing girl?"  Blevins 
raised bushy eyebrows.  He took a folder and handed it to 
her. "Agent Mulder's latest 302.  Requesting assignment and 
travel expenses for the both of you."

"Sioux City, Iowa.  That's the first I've heard of it."

Scully flipped the page and saw the newspaper clipping 
attached.  "TEEN TAKEN FROM TENT BY ALIENS," it read.

"I don't understand," Scully said.

"In essence, Mulder is petitioning the bureau to attach a 
case number to a tabloid headline."

Scully's heart sank.  "He must have more evidence than 
this."

"Not according to the 302."

Scully began to see why they were concerned. But Blevins 
was not through yet.  He got up and retrieved a second X-
file, which he also handed to her.  Scully opened it and 
caught her breath at the sight of Mulder's little sister.

Oh, Mulder, she thought. What are you doing?

"You don't have to protect him," Blevins told her.  "He 
initiated the file himself.  We need to know. In your 
opinion, has Agent Mulder's personal agenda clouded his 
professional judgment?"

Yes. Yes.  And yes.

"In my opinion, no," Scully heard herself say.  Mulder was 
blind, but he was not stupid.  She risked a guess he knew 
more than he was telling.

Besides, at this point, she owed him one.

"I am going to disallow the 302," Blevins said, picking up 
his pen.

"With respect, sir," Scully blurted.  "At least let me talk 
to him first."

~*~*~*~*~*~

Scully took the file to the basement.  "You didn't tell me 
we had a new case."

"I see Blevins filed you in," he replied carelessly, eyeing 
her folder.  "I didn't think he would ever approve it."

"He hasn't.  Yet."

"Oh, I see," Mulder said, rocking forward with a grin.  
"You're the keeper of the crypt."

Scully dropped her chin.  She could not look at him.  
"Mulder.  I want to apologize again for Ethan's piece.  If 
it in any way affected this case--"

"Please," he said, waving her off.  "Is that what they told 
you?  They were looking for a reason to sit me down.  The 
more I can stay out of the limelight, the happier they are.  
When they finally realize Manning isn't the guy, they'll 
come sniffing around again."

"And you?"

Mulder pointed at the picture of Patty he had tacked to his 
wall.  "I'll be ready."

Scully peeked again at the inside of the new file she had 
in her hand.  The missing girl was Ruby Morris, aged 
sixteen.  She, too, had a brother left behind.  Just like 
Patty.  

She listened to Mulder explain how Ruby Morris disappeared 
from a known UFO hotspot, Lake Okobogee, and how her 
mother, Darlene, had been involved in a UFO incident in 
1967.

Scully did not believe a word of it.  The file listed Ruby 
as a probable runaway.

She hoped it was true.  If it were, Fox Mulder might have a 
shot to bring home a lost sister at last.

Scully gave her approval for the 302.

~*~*~*~*~*~

She watched him read the pictures in the Morris household 
with his hands and was reminded of blind Willie Holcomb, 
the man who "saw" crime scenes in a way others could not.

Scully spoke to the frazzled mother while Mulder devoted 
most of his time to Ruby's small, silent brother Kevin.  
Scully supposed this made good sense.  Kevin was the only 
possible witness to Ruby's disappearance.

She watched through peripheral vision as Mulder chatted 
with the boy.  What did one ask a fellow sibling whose 
sister had disappeared into the light, she wondered?

She hoped Mulder had the good sense not to put ideas in the 
kid's head.  

Afterward, in the car, he showed her what Kevin had given 
him.  "He's got pages of this stuff, Scully."

Scully looked at the pages of ones and zeroes written in an 
eight year-old's handwriting.  "Binary code?  What's a boy 
that age know about numeric coding?"

"He says it's coming from the TV."

Scully let the page rest in her lap.  "The TV?  Isn't that 
just a little too 'Poltergeist' for you, Mulder?"

"I'm only reporting what Kevin told me.  As you just said, 
it's unlikely he would have the knowledge to create 
something like this on his own."

"Something like what, Mulder?  This could be just a bunch 
of jibberish for all we know."

He plucked the paper back from her.  "That's why I want it 
checked out."

Scully touched her fingers to her face, choosing her words 
carefully.  "When I was little and my father was away at 
sea, I used to have these compulsive tasks I'd perform to 
try to keep him safe.  His birthday was March seventh, so I 
would try to do things in multiples of seven.  I brushed my 
teeth for seventy seconds.  I took seven steps to cross the 
room.  At night in bed I would count backwards from one 
thousand by subtracting sevens."

"Must have worked," Mulder commented.

"Of course it didn't work. But it made me feel like I had 
some control over what happened to my father.  I think 
Kevin's number game might be the same kind of thing.  He's 
trying to feel connected to his sister."

"You could be right," Mulder said, and ceased argument.  

Scully looked out the side windows at the passing pine 
trees.  She could be right, of course, but somehow, when it 
came to Mulder, she never was.

~*~*~*~*~*

They found a dead boyfriend in the woods.  A biker with his 
ear burned off from radiation.  The NSA wanted a piece of 
Kevin since his number game turned out to have defense 
satellite information embedded in it.

All of this, but still no Ruby.

Night deepened the sky as they climbed back into their 
rented car.  Mulder sat behind the wheel, but he scrubbed 
his face with his hands rather than putting the key in the 
ignition.  Scully waited.

Finally, he turned to her, expression cloaked in shadow.  
"You want to get a drink or something?"

Her clothes were stuck to her skin in the thick summer 
humidity.  After getting rousted by the NSA in the middle 
of the night the evening before, she wanted only to shower 
and to climb into bed.  But she sensed if she said "no" 
now, there might never come another offer.

"Sure," she said.

He took them back to the biker bar, which was doing a 
pretty good business for a Wednesday night.  They ordered 
drinks from a waitress in tight cut-offs and a T-shirt that 
said "Slippery When Wet."  The wooden table had deep scars 
over the surface.

"Apparently we're supposed to carve our names," Mulder 
remarked.  "Do you suppose that's how the waitress 
remembers where to bring the drinks?"

"Somehow I doubt she reads much." Scully cast an eye around 
at the other clientele; leather and shredded cotton seemed 
to be the standard attire.  Whether it was the too loud 
music or too much booze, she couldn't say, but the bikers 
did not appear to mind two FBI agents in their midst.

Scully relaxed a little and daintily plucked a few beer 
nuts from the sad, fake wooden bowl.  Mulder watched her, 
openly amused.

"I can't believe you're eating those."

"I haven't had anything to eat in eight hours.  It's either 
this, or I'll be singing on the table."

"Can you sing?"

"Not in such a way that it's recognizable as singing, no."  
She smiled and he smiled back, nudging the bowl at her.

"Better eat up then."  

He fiddled with the napkin dispenser for a minute, and then 
occupied himself playing ketchup bottle hockey.  The 
waitress arrived with Scully's margarita and Mulder's beer.

She took an experimental sip.  "Not bad."

Mulder nodded and drank his beer.  Scully leaned back in 
the booth, licking the traces of salt from her lips.  
Mulder said nothing and she was not sure what sort of 
conversation was appropriate.  In months of work together, 
she and Mulder had not made any attempts to socialize.

"So," she said. 
 
"So," Mulder agreed.  He drew a line through the 
condensation on his beer bottle.  They looked at each 
other.

"Kevin is getting messages from the TV," she said at 
length.  "This is still your theory."

"He's getting them from somewhere.  We can agree on that, 
right?"

Scully nodded.  "It's just the TV part is a little hard to 
swallow."

"You mean you can't feel it?"

"Feel what?"

Mulder's leg brushed hers under the table.  He seemed 
restless, searching.  "You know when I said before, how I'm 
still walking into that room?"

The room with his sister, each time hoping she would 
magically be there when he opened his eyes.  "Yes."

"It's like--It's not just a metaphor, Scully. I am 
literally walking into those rooms.  Each time I take a 
case like this, it's always the same.  You go into a house 
with a missing child.  You open the front door and this 
gushing pain comes out.  The people inside can barely talk.  
It feels like the whole building might crumble at any 
second."

"I can't even imagine."

"I guess you can't."  He wasn't snappish, merely accepting.  
"When a child just vanishes like that..." He shook his 
head.  "It seems so unreal that you start wondering what 
else might happen, what other unreal things are waiting out 
there.  Things that seemed impossible before become your 
reality."

"You mean like UFOs?" She treaded carefully, not looking at 
him so she wouldn't seem confrontational.

He drank some more beer.  "UFOs, messages from the TV set, 
whatever. I know you think I'm crazy."

"No," she said quickly.

"That little girl in Poltergeist who disappeared into the 
TV -- her family had to go in after her."

"Is that what you're doing?"

He shrugged.  "Sometimes I wonder if we aren't already 
living inside the TV set.  All of us."

Mulder ordered a second beer.  Then a third.  He was not 
stumbling around drunk, but Scully elected to drive back to 
the motel.  Mulder leaned against his car door and looked 
up at the sky.

At the Stay and Save, they walked down the hall corridor 
under eerie gray lights.  Mulder's room was first, and she 
paused with him to say good night.  He stuck the plastic 
key in the lock but did not open the door.  Instead he 
loomed over her, eyes hooded.  Stubble dotted his chin.

"You're so sure," he said, and she could smell the beer on 
his breath.  He had her trapped between his body and the 
wall.  "All the time."

Scully swallowed.  His hand came up and traced the side of 
her face, barely touching her.

"Once it happens," he breathed, "you can't go back.  Can't 
ever go back.  You know?"

"I know," Scully lied.  He swayed a little and dropped his 
hand.  Then he drew himself up.

"It's late.  Or early.  One or the other, I don't know 
which."  He rubbed his head.

"Mulder--"

He opened his door and stepped inside.  "Go to bed, 
Scully."

The door shut on her face, and Scully stood there staring 
at it. At last, she touched her fingertips to the wood and 
walked away.

Scully went back to her room, showered and climbed into 
bed. Alcohol burned in her veins. She counted backwards by 
sevens until she slept.

~*~*~*~*~*~

The sky turned a smoky orange and the earth trembled.  
Bikers tore through the woods like harbingers of a heavy-
metal apocalypse. Scully remembered Darlene screaming and
Mulder's great black coat flapping away into the night. 

Somehow, through it all, Ruby Morris reappeared.

Scully and Mulder watched outside the hospital room as 
Darlene fussed over her daughter.  "They spit her back, 
Scully," Mulder said.  "Like she was a fish too small to 
fry."

"She's back, that's what matters.  You found her."

Kevin Morris lingered by the door, small face ever serious.

"I didn't find her," Mulder answered.  "Kevin did.  He knew 
all the time she would return."

Kevin paced, casting looks back at his sister.  He stopped 
and met Mulder and Scully's gaze, but did not smile.

"You would think he'd be happier," Scully said.  "Ruby is 
going to be okay."

Mulder shook his head.  "It's like I said, Scully.  You 
can't ever go back."

~*~*~*~*~

Back in the city, Scully crawled into bed next to Ethan.  
He stirred and smiled sleepily when he saw she was with 
him.  "Hey," he said, encircling his arms around her.  
"You're here."

"Yeah." She rested her cheek against his chest.

"Tough case?" he asked, stroking the length of her spine.

"Mmmm.  I guess.  Another missing girl, but she isn't 
missing anymore."

Ethan kissed the top of her head. "That's great.  Everyone 
loves a happy ending."

Across town, Mulder set his bag down in the hall and fitted 
his key to the lock.  He held his breath, closed his eyes 
and pushed open the door.

No one was waiting on the other side.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Mulder rose before dawn and ran his usual route through the 
streets around his apartment.  The sky brightened, stars 
winking out, and Mulder raced the sun back to his doorstep.

The morning paper carried no news of Patty Waeleski.  The 
cops had not announced anything since their interrogation 
of Stan Manning.

Fresh from one success, Mulder felt renewed.  If Ruby could 
come home, then so could Patty.

He grabbed a bottle of water and popped his copy of the CD 
store surveillance tape into the VCR.  Patty flickered onto 
the screen, searching through the bin of Beatles albums one 
more time.  Mulder had the small section of tape memorized 
by now, but he couldn't help feeling like there was 
something he was missing.

He hit the "slow motion" button and watched Patty become 
almost animatronic.  Mulder leaned forward to study the 
screen.

"Huh," he said.  He hit rewind and tried it again.  "Son of 
a bitch."

Mulder palmed the phone and dialed Scully's number.  
"Hello?" she said, sleepy.

"She knew him, Scully.  She had to."

"Mulder?  What are you talking about?"

"Patty Waeleski.  I'm watching the tape again.  If you slow 
it down, you can see she gives this half-smile before she 
turns around.  She heard a voice she knew."

"If she frequented the store, she would know Manning," 
Scully said.

"It's not Manning.  Whoever took this girl, it was 
personal. I'll bring the tape to work, and you can see for 
yourself."

Two hours later, he stood with her in the basement as they 
went over the tape frame by frame.  "You see?" he asked.  
"She recognizes a voice before she ever turns around."

"Okay, then who was it?"

"I don't know."  Mulder hit "pause."  "I'm thinking maybe 
we should take a run at the Coach."

"Dave Matlock?  Last I heard, he gave a statement to police 
and was refusing to answer any more questions."

"Says it's hurtful to his training program," Mulder agreed.  
"Cops didn't push it when he turned up with an alibi for 
the afternoon Patti disappeared."

"So then why do you want to take a run at him?"

"His star athlete is missing.  He doesn't seem that 
invested in getting her back.  I'd like to know why."

Scully sat on the edge of his desk.  "And what makes you 
think he'll talk to us?"

"I've been thinking about that."  He dragged a rolling 
chair over to her and took a seat.  From this angle, she 
was taller than he was.  She had her arms folded and her 
mouth set in that go-ahead-I-dare-you-to-impress-me line he 
had grown to know so well. If he could sell Scully, he 
could sell anyone.

"There is an old mystery story," he began, "about a doctor 
who was selling illegal drugs to some of his patients.  
Let's call this guy Jones.  Another patient found out -- 
let's call him Smith -- and Smith started blackmailing 
Jones with some secret tapes he made of Jones's illicit 
contractions."

"What does this have to do with Coach Matlock?"

"I'm getting to that.  Anyway, Jones goes to this medical 
convention in Florida.  It's quite posh and all the doctors 
have their own cabins.  Smith decides to tag along and get 
more money out of Jones.  He rents his own cabin at the 
resort and calls Jones in the middle of the night, 
demanding payment.  Jones agrees to hand over a huge chunk 
of cash, but only if Smith will give him the tapes at last.  
Smith says he has the tapes and Jones can take them so long 
as he brings the money."

"Is there a point here, Mulder?"

"I'm getting to it.  Anyway, long story short, Jones shows 
up with a knife instead of the money.  He stabs Smith, and 
while Smith lies dying on the floor, Jones ransacks the 
place for the tapes.  He finds them and hustles out the 
door."

"End of story?"

"Not quite.  A few hours later, Jones is awakened by a 
phone call.  It's the police on the other end.  'Come 
quickly,' says the Lieutenant, 'a man has been stabbed and 
is near death.'"

"So he didn't die," Scully said.  "Big mistake."

"Yes, that's what Jones is thinking too.  He throws on some 
clothes and goes racing out to the cabin, trying to figure 
out what he's going to do about Smith.  He can't let him 
live because he'll tell everything."

Scully was into the story now, he could tell.  She leaned 
towards him.  "What happened next?"

"So Jones gets to the cabin and finds it full of cops.  
Smith is lying dead on the floor.  He's been dead for 
several hours.  'Why did you say to come quickly?' Jones 
asks the Lieutenant. 'This man is quite clearly dead.'

"'Yes,' the Lieutenant replies, 'but you can see he has 
written the name of his attacker in blood.' Sure enough, 
next to the body, Smith had written 'DR.'

"'There are a hundred doctors here,' Jones protests. 'This 
could be anyone.'

"'That's what I thought too,' the Lieutenant replies. 
'That's why I called them all and said to come quickly.  
The only thing is, I didn't tell them where to come.  
You're the only one who showed up.'"

"Busted," Scully said, smiling as she got the joke.  "Very 
clever.  But what does this have to do with Coach Matlock?"

Mulder hauled the phone across the desk and handed Scully 
the receiver.  "Call the Coach.  Tell him you know how 
Patti sprained her arm, and if he wants to keep you quiet, 
he'll meet you in Montrose Park at noon.  North entrance."

"Why me?"

"He has to believe Patti would have told someone her 
secret.  Patti's more likely to talk to a woman."

Scully made the call.

"Did he take the bait?" Mulder asked.

"I don't know. He hung up on me."

Mulder grabbed his jacket.  "Time to go feed the pigeons in 
the park, Scully."

"You really think he'll be there?"

Mulder was already far ahead. He didn't really have an 
answer.

But in a week where little girls returned from the sky, 
anything was possible.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

End chapter five.  Continued in chapter six.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

UNIVERSAL INVARIANTS

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

by syntax6

Chapter Six: Deeper by the Dozen

The midday sun blazed away in the sky, but Mulder stood 
tucked away under a cluster of pine trees.  He peeped 
through the branches at Scully, who sat out in the open on 
a bench near the park entrance.

At this distance, she might have been a college student 
waiting for a date instead of an FBI agent anticipating a 
possible murderer.  Her jacket lay beside her.  She had 
pulled her hair back into a ponytail and undone the top two 
buttons on her shirt.

Her legs were crossed, her back against the bench, feigning 
casualness.  But Mulder saw her check her watch for the 
fourth time in two minutes. 

He dug out his phone.  "At the tone, the time will be 
twelve-oh-six," he said when she answered.

Scully shaded her eyes and looked in his direction.

"Stop that," Mulder ordered.  "He'll know I'm here."

"He's not here to notice," Scully replied, but she returned 
to studying her nails.  "I don't think this worked, 
Mulder."

"Even if he doesn't show, that will tell us something.  I'm 
not ready to give up yet.  Maybe he hit traffic."  Mulder 
slapped at a bug that landed on the back of his neck.

Scully glanced at the entrance again.  "I'm still not sure 
what you want me to say to him.  We don't know he had any 
secret with Patty."

"If he shows, you know he's got a secret.  That gives you 
the upper hand.  Just keep him talking."

"How?"

Mulder rolled his eyes and paced around the tiny thicket.  
"Jeez, Scully, didn't you ever try to keep a cute guy 
talking at a party?  It's the same skill."

He could hear her lick her lips.  "Maybe you should be the 
one out here, Mulder."

"I can't. He knows me. Thanks to Ethan, the whole city 
knows me."

Across the way, Scully ducked her head.  He thought it was 
a response to his barb, but then she said, "It's almost ten 
past now."

"Relax.  I still think he'll show."

Scully gave an annoyed sigh.  "If I were meeting an 
extortionist who knew a dangerous secret about me, I would 
make it a point to be on time."

Mulder grinned.  "I'm sure you would, Scully."  He toyed 
with the idea of asking her what the dangerous secret would 
be, but at that moment, Scully sat up straight and froze.

"He's here," she whispered.

Mulder saw Coach Dave Matlock hovering just outside the 
entrance.  "Leave the phone on," Mulder instructed, "so I 
can hear."

Scully tucked it loosely under her jacket.  Dave Matlock 
entered the park and halted on the path. He took off his 
sunglasses and scanned his surroundings, his gaze coming to 
rest on Scully.  He stared at her a long time, as if he 
couldn't believe this was the person who called him.

Mulder held his breath, afraid she'd been made.

After what seemed like an eternity, Matlock advanced toward 
the bench.  He was tan and lean, looking much younger than 
his fifty-seven years.  An '88 Olympic T-shirt was 
stretched across his chest.  He could probably snap Scully 
in half if he wanted.

Matlock took a seat on the other end of the bench.  Mulder 
pressed his cell phone tight against his ear to try to make 
out what the man was saying.

"You the one who called me?" Matlock asked.

Scully kept her gaze focused straight ahead, but Mulder 
noticed her foot swinging.  "That's right."  She did not 
say anything further, allowing the silence to stretch, and 
eventually Matlock snapped.

"Just what the hell do you want, anyway?"

"I told you.  I know about you and Patty."

"Screw this," Matlock muttered.  He stood up.  "There's 
nothing to know."

He started to walk away, but Scully called after him.  "I 
know how she hurt her arm!"

Matlock stopped and turned around slowly.  "How do you know 
Patty?"

"Never mind how I know."

Matlock looked Scully up and down.  "I think you're a 
liar."

"From church," Scully hedged.  "I know her from church."

Matlock glanced at the exit, apparently weighing his 
options.  He took his seat on the bench again.  "So she 
hurt her arm," he said.  "Big deal."

"It would be a big deal to the police."  When Matlock 
didn't say anything, Scully pressed further.  "They know 
how hard you drive those girls.  If you think they aren't 
taking a good look at you right now, you're crazy."

"I wasn't anywhere near Patty that afternoon!  The cops 
know it.  They cleared me straight away."

Scully chuffed.  "That's what you think."

Matlock grabbed her arm.  Mulder's pulse picked up.  The 
park wasn't deserted, but it wasn't exactly crowded either.  
No one was around at the moment.  

"I don't have time for this," Matlock growled.  "Tell me 
who you are and what you want, or I'm leaving."

"We're here because of what you want," Scully answered.  
"You want me to keep my mouth shut.  The cops are 
questioning everyone who saw Patty in church that morning.  
They'll get to me eventually."

"And you'll tell them what?"

Scully shrugged.  "That's up to you."

"You want -- what, money?  I don't have money."

"Then I guess we don't have anything to talk about."  
Scully moved to grab her coat and purse.  Matlock stopped 
her.

"Wait just a goddamn second.  Let's talk about this.  You 
asked for this meeting, remember?"

"That's when I thought you were ready to deal."

"Maybe I will deal," Matlock said.  Mulder watched him wipe 
sweat from his brow.  

Scully settled back on the bench.  "How much?"

"Nothing," Matlock replied, and Scully started to get up 
again.  He grabbed her again with lightning quick reflexes.  
"Nothing until I hear *exactly* what it is you know.  I 
want to hear what I'm buying."

"Shit," Mulder muttered.  Silence ticked away on the other 
end of the phone.

"I know what happened to Patty wasn't an accident," Scully 
said at last.

Mulder spread the branches to get a good look at Matlock's 
reaction.  He did not look happy.

"Go on," he ordered.

"That should be enough," Scully replied.

"Not for me.  Go on."

Scully hesitated.  Mulder caught her looking at him as if 
for guidance.  He had none to give.

"She was at the gym with you," Scully said.  "Her routine 
was off.  She was tired and wanted to stop.  You said go 
again, but Patty refused.  You got a little rough."

Matlock barked a humorless laugh.  He released Scully and 
wiped his face with the front of his T-shirt.  "You're a 
lying sack of shit," he said.  "And this conversation is 
over.  Don't ever contact me again, you hear?  Or I'll be 
the one talking to the police."

He stalked off alone.  Scully's shoulders slumped and she 
dug out the phone.  "Did you get all that?"

"Yeah, I heard."  Mulder climbed out from behind the trees.  
"You did good, Scully."

He turned off the phone as he reached her.  "He was a 
nervous wreck at first," Scully said.  "You were right, 
Mulder.  He's hiding something. I just guessed the wrong 
secret."

"You had no choice.  He backed you into a corner."

"Patty's arm wasn't an accident, and he knows it."

"Yeah."  The sun was frying his scalp.  "We'll just have to 
find another way to get it out of him.  Let's get out of 
here."  He stuck out his hand to her.  She accepted, her 
small hand amazingly still cool in the summer heat, and he 
tugged her to her feet.

Mulder was putting on his sunglasses when Scully froze.  
She was staring intently at the park entrance.  Mulder 
looked too.  "What?" he asked.

"I know that van," she replied, sounding disgusted.  

For the first time, Mulder noted a battered gray van parked 
across the street.  The lower part of the side panel had 
rusted out, and it was missing the right rear hubcap. 

"Wait here," Scully said, starting for the van.  Mulder 
followed close on her heels.

As they got closer, Mulder could see there were people in 
the front seat.  Ethan, he realized.  And the woman with 
the camera. 

Ethan rolled down the window as Scully jogged through 
traffic to cross the street.  "I can explain," he was 
saying when Mulder caught up.

"I can't believe you," Scully replied.  "What the hell are 
you doing following us?"

"I wasn't following you.  I was following Matlock."

Scully yanked his door open.  "I want to talk to you alone.  
Now."

Both Ethan and the woman got out of the car.  "Dana, I'm 
telling you the truth."  Ethan followed Scully away from 
the car.

The woman came around the front, squinting in the sun.  She 
was the only one dressed for the weather, with jean shorts 
and a red tank top.  A diamond-studded "M" glittered at her 
neck.  She reminded Mulder of Angela Burton, a girl he'd 
messed around with in eleventh grade.

"I'm Melinda," she said as she stuck out her hand.  
"Usually you can't see me because I'm hidden behind a 
camera."

"Mulder," Mulder said, shaking her hand.  "But then you 
knew that already."  He risked a glance down the street, 
where Ethan was gesticulating and Scully stood with her 
arms folded.

"Looks like Ethan will be sleeping on the couch tonight," 
Melinda remarked.

Mulder tilted his head.  "Were you guys really following 
Matlock?"

"Every damn day to the gym and back."  She reached in 
through the open van window and hauled out a camera.  "I've 
got the tape to prove it."

"Anything interesting?"

"Not especially.  The guy's really into his gymnastics."  
She put the camera on her hip and stroked the top of it.  
"You know, you should be in pictures.  The camera loves 
you."

"Does it?" Mulder asked, amused.  "That's good to know.  
Maybe I should ask it out sometime."

Melinda grinned.  "Oh, I think you should.  But before you 
do, I think I should warn you: I always have to chaperone.  
The camera's expensive, you see.  I'm not supposed to let 
it out of my sight."

"A woman who takes a video camera on all her dates," Mulder 
said.  "Kinky."

Melinda took a step closer and looked up at him from under 
dark lashes.  "Believe me, it is.  I have the tape to prove 
that too."

~*~*~

"I told you to stay away from this case," Scully said.  
They were standing outside of a Starbucks, and the strong 
smell of coffee was making it hard for her to concentrate.  
She hadn't eaten anything in hours.

"You told me to stay away from Mulder and I have," Ethan 
protested.  "How was I supposed to know where Matlock was 
headed?"

"Don't tell me you filmed the whole meeting."

"Not all of it."  Ethan put his hands on his hips and 
sighed.  "This is a huge story, Dana.  I have to follow it.  
You know that."

"If you put that on the news tonight..."  She broke off and 
looked down at Mulder.  He was laughing at something 
Melinda said.  Scully turned back and looked Ethan in the 
eyes.  "You may as well not come home."

"Cross my heart," he said, backing it up with an "X" over 
his chest.  "I'm just gathering information right now.  I 
don't have anything worth putting on the air anyway."

Scully scuffed her heel on the sidewalk, not ready to 
forgive.  "How long have you been following him?"

"On and off for three days.  He spends most of his time at 
the gym with the girls.  Really just a boring old guy if 
you ask me."

Scully's ears tingled.  She had known Ethan long enough to 
recognize the illogic of his last remarks.  "Cut the crap, 
Ethan.  You wouldn't still be following him if he were just 
a boring old guy."

Ethan hesitated, and Scully started to walk away.  "Okay, 
okay," he said, catching her arm.  "There is one thing.  
Two days ago Matlock visited a lawyer by the name of Arnold 
Laughlin. I checked -- Laughlin's a criminal lawyer."

"Really."

"I wondered what he was doing consulting a lawyer when the 
police had supposedly cleared him.  Then I find you and 
Mulder meeting him today and that just ups my suspicions 
even more."

If he was waiting for her to add her two cents, he was more 
naïve than she had thought.

"Why didn't you tell me this sooner?" she asked.

Ethan shrugged.  "You were away on that other case.  I 
wasn't sure you and Mulder were even still involved with 
the Patty Waeleski investigation.  Besides, what do I have?  
Nothing.  So he saw a lawyer.  So what?"

"You know very well so what."

"Yeah, well, what I know and you know is different from 
what we can prove.  Isn't that why you and Mulder arranged 
a little tete-a-tete with him out here the park?  I mean, 
correct me if I'm wrong, but I don't think usual bureau 
protocol is to interrogate suspects in a park across town."

"It was a conversation, not an interrogation."

"Uh-huh. And what was the conversation about?  Our current 
heat wave?"

"You know I can't answer that."

"Yeah, I know."  He nudged her with his elbow.  "Come on, 
I'll buy you an iced latte."

"I still won't tell you."

He held the door for her.  Scully felt the welcome frost of 
A/C on "high" as she passed under his arm and into the 
café. "What if I throw in a biscotti?" Ethan asked.

"Let me get a look at the tape you shot and maybe we've got 
a deal," Scully said.  Ethan brightened and Scully turned. 
"If and when we make an arrest," she added.  "Think of it 
as a pending exclusive."

Ethan considered as they took their place in line.  "I can 
let you see the tape," he agreed.

"Great." She squeezed his hand.  "But I still want the 
biscotti."

~*~*~*~

That night in bed, Scully suppressed a yawn as she and 
Ethan surveyed the tapes of Coach Matlock. Ethan leaned 
over to kiss her bare shoulder.  "Told you they were 
boring," he murmured.

"Mmm.  Is this the part where he visited the lawyer?"

Ethan lifted his head from the pillow.  "Yup.  He was in 
there nearly an hour."

"Maybe they're friends," Scully said, but she did not 
really believe it.

"Laywers don't have friends."  Ethan kissed her arm again.  

Scully fast-forwarded the tape until it changed scene; this 
time Matlock was arguing with a slender girl in the parking 
lot outside his athletic facility.  "This is the third time 
he's talked to this girl," Scully said.  "She looks about 
Patty's age.  Who is she?"

"Hmm? Oh, that's Lindsey Beckwith.  She's the reigning 
national gymnastics champion and one of Matlock's 
favorites.  She's been with him since she was nine."

On the tape, Matlock said something harsh to Lindsey.  She 
covered her face with her hands.

"She doesn't look like his favorite," Scully said.

"Tough love is the only kind Matlock knows how to give.  
Last year at Nationals, Patty missed a landing off of the 
high beam and Matlock didn't talk to her for a week."

Scully stopped the tape and shifted to look at him.  "How 
do you know all this?"

"Melinda.  She follows all this gymnastics crap.  Her mom 
signed her up for classes when she was a kid, and she's 
been into it ever since."

"Huh," Scully said, and resume play on the tape.  "Maybe I 
should have a talk with Melinda then."

"Have Mulder do it."  Ethan stroked his fingers up and down 
Scully's arm.  "He's out with her on a date tonight."

"What?" Scully wrestled with the sheet and sat up. "What 
are you talking about?"

Ethan laughed and brushed aside the sheet that hand landed 
on his face.  "He asked her to dinner.  Last I saw her she 
was -- and I quote -- 'heading home to put on tall heels 
and a short skirt.'"

Scully opened her mouth and closed it again.  "Mulder 
didn't say anything to me."

"Maybe it's not his style to kiss and tell."  Ethan toyed 
with her fingers.

Scully jerked her hand away. "She asked him out or he asked 
her out?"

"I don't know. Does it matter?  It's not like she forced 
him at gunpoint."

"I know that." Scully leaned back on the pillows, her mind 
abuzz. Mulder on a date.  It was as hard to fathom as the 
UFOs he was always talking about.  "Did Melinda say where 
they were going?"

"Dinner.  That's all I know.  If you care so much, you can 
grill Mulder for the details in the morning."

Scully picked at the edge of the sheet.  "You're sure this 
was Melinda's idea and not yours."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Scully lifted one shoulder and did not look at him.  "You 
had no problem using me for information..."

"You think I would pimp my camera woman out to get a scoop?  
God, Dana, what kind of ruthless SOB do you think I am?"

"Forget I said anything."

"No, I won't forget it.  I can't believe you would even 
suggest such a thing.  You know Melinda.  She flirts with 
just about everything in a suit, and most of the time, they 
flirt right back.  Why should Mulder be any different?"

"I just..." She shook her head.  "Melinda didn't seem like 
she'd be Mulder's type.  That's all.  I was just a little 
surprised."

Ethan studied her.  "You mean jealous," he said after a 
moment.

Scully's jaw dropped.  "I'm not jealous."

"You are," he said.

"I'm not!  I just don't want to see him get hurt."

"You don't want to see him get laid," Ethan corrected.

The words put dangerous images in her head.  Scully 
swallowed.  "You're crazy.  I don't care who Mulder... I 
don't care what he does."

Ethan clutched a pillow and rolled around.  "You can't even 
say the words!"  He sounded more amused than alarmed. 

"I don't care who Mulder sleeps with," Scully said loudly.  
"There, are you happy now?"

"Oh, extremely.  Are you?"

"Delirious." She crossed her arms and sunk deeper into the 
pillows.

Ethan laughed and pulled her close.  "Don't worry," he said 
as he kissed her temple, "Melinda rarely puts out on the 
first date.  Mulder's virtue is safe for the night."

~*~*~*~*~

Melinda wore a red sundress with a low back, so his fingers 
brushed against bare skin as he ushered her through the 
restaurant doorway.  "I love Italian, but I've never been 
here," she said.

Mulder gave her credit for saying the exact right thing: 
agreeing with his selection while at the same time pointing 
out how he was broadening her experience.  Melinda clearly 
knew how to navigate a first date.  Mulder wondered if 
perhaps he had stepped in over his head.

"So it's really true that the FBI has a division devoted to 
solving paranormal mysteries?" she asked after they had 
ordered.

"I'd hardly call me and Scully 'a division.'  But yes, the 
Bureau does keep track of cases that have resisted solution 
by conventional investigation."

Melinda laughed. "Resisted solution by conventional 
investigation?  Is that code for the Bogey Man did it?"

"Let's put it this way: if the Bogey Man was piling up 
victims, we'd check him out."

"Can you give me a for instance?" Her dark eyes were wide 
in the candlelight.

Mulder told her a little bit about the Tooms case.  "So you 
see, it's not about eliminating traditional scientific 
evidence.  It's just a different way of looking at things."

"Wow," Melinda said.  "That would make some great TV."

"Good luck getting it on the air," Mulder told her.  
"I've found that the powers that be have an amazing 
ability to ignore anything that defies rational 
explanation."

"Ah, but seeing is believing.  If it's on TV, they 
can't deny it."

Mulder smiled and sipped his wine.  "Tell that to 
Scully.  Sometimes I think an extraterrestrial being 
could walk up and bite her on the butt, and she would 
still manage to deny it happened."

"Is that what they do?" Melinda's eyes were full of 
mischief.  "Bite people on the butt?"

"Only if they really want your attention," Mulder 
replied very seriously.  "Usually they just settle for 
a wedgie."

Melinda laughed.  "Okay, but tell me the truth now: 
have you really ever seen one?"

"A wedgie?  Sadly yes."

She kicked him lightly under the table.  "You know what 
I mean."

"No," Mulder replied, leaning back in his chair.  "I've 
never seen an extraterrestrial being."

"So then how come you're so convinced they're out 
there?"

Mulder shrugged and fingered his fork.  "I've seen 
other things -- things that no one has been able to 
give me a satisfying explanation for.  Until I get such 
an explanation, I'll just keep asking the questions."

A figure materialized at his elbow, and Mulder at first 
thought it was their waiter bringing dinner.  He looked 
up to find a plump woman with gray hair and a 
glittering evening gown standing there.  She had a 
small handbag slung over one wrist and what looked like 
a piece of paper clutched in her hand.  

"I'm so sorry to interrupt," she said, and bit her lip.  
"I saw you from across the room.  You're Agent Mulder 
from the FBI, isn't that right?"

"Yes, ma'am," Mulder replied, putting aside his napkin 
as he stood up. "Can I help you?"

"I saw you on television.  You're looking for Patty 
Waeleski."

For a second, Mulder's pulse flashed.  Possibly this 
woman could have a lead.  "That's right," he said.  "Do 
you know Patty?"

"I'm afraid I don't."  Her hand trembled.  "This is a 
picture of my daughter, Evelyn.  She went out to ride 
her bike after supper and never came home.  That was 
four years ago this September."

Mulder accepted the photo.  It showed a girl with a 
pointed chin and thick chestnut braids.  "I'm sorry," 
Mulder said.

"I just need to know what happened to her.  The police 
have stopped looking.  They don't return my phone 
calls.  I've put up signs.  I've held town meetings.  I 
just don't know what else to do.  Then I saw you on the 
news a few weeks ago, and here you are in the 
restaurant tonight.  I thought -- this has to be a 
sign.  Maybe that nice man from the FBI can help me."
 
Melinda was staring fixedly at her plate.  Mulder 
looked at the woman, who was looking back with washed-
out blue eyes.  "I'm sorry, Mrs.--"

"Gordon.  Teresa Gordon."

"Mrs. Gordon, I think the news program may have given 
you the wrong idea about me."

"They said you were the best," Mrs. Gordon protested, 
sounding desperate.  "They said if anyone could find 
Patty, it would be you."

"They're wrong," Mulder replied gently.  "I don't have 
any better chance of finding Patty than any other 
investigator on the case."

Mrs. Gordon's chin quivered, and she clamped her mouth 
shut.  "No one is investigating Evelyn's case anymore," 
she managed at last.  "What does that mean for her?"

"I can talk to the Missing Persons department at the 
FBI."

"I've done that!  They've given up too."

"No one gives up," Mulder said.  "I promise you.  It's 
just that new leads are extremely difficult to find 
once so much time has passed. I'll call them and ask 
them to take another look."

"I get it," Mrs. Gordon said, taking Evelyn's picture 
back from Mulder. "Evie's not a famous gymnast, so it's 
not worth your time.  Forget I said anything.  I'm 
sorry to have interrupted your dinner."

"Mrs. Gordon, please--"

The woman walked away stiffly.  Mulder stood staring 
after her for a long while.  He shook his head as he 
took his seat at last.  "You were saying," he said 
darkly to Melinda, "about the nature of truth on 
television."

"God, that was awful."  Melinda hugged her bare arms.  
"That poor woman.  There's really nothing you can do to 
help her?"

"I'll make the call to Missing Persons.  But four years 
is a long time for a little girl to go missing.  I 
don't have super powers.  I'm not a magician.  I got 
the same training that these other investigators got. 
It's not like I can go in and wave a magic wand and the 
case is solved. You put that stuff on TV, and you just 
give people like that false hope."

Melinda reached over and squeezed his hand.  "You think 
they're reacting to your case record or your fancy FBI 
title, but you're wrong. That woman was looking for 
someone like her, someone who won't ever give up."

"Then they should know the truth," Mulder said.  "That 
two years becomes ten, becomes twenty.  Don't kid 
yourself.  I give up plenty."

~*~

After dinner and dessert, Mulder walked Melinda to the 
door of her apartment building.  The streetlamp 
flickered off, leaving them face-to-face in the 
darkness.  She took his hand.  "I had a really nice 
time."

Mulder gave a half-smile and looked away.

"I did," she insisted.  She paused.  "I ran away once, 
you know."  That got his attention again.  He looked 
down at her in the slim light.  She nodded at him.  "I 
was fourteen and my parents had just split up.  My dad 
moved across the country and my mom and I fought all 
the time.  I thought if I could go find my dad, life 
would magically get better.  So one night I just walked 
out the front door and kept going."

"What happened?"

"I couldn't figure out how to get a bus out of town," 
she replied, looking sheepish.  "I rode around all 
night, changing buses, but they kept taking me back 
into the city.  Around dawn I got off and fell asleep 
on a park bench.  A cop woke me up later.  My mom had 
found me missing and freaked out."

"No big adventure, then," Mulder said.

"I'd had enough anyway.  Besides, I got what I wanted."

"Which was?"

"Someone to come after me."  She stood on tiptoe and 
kissed his cheek. "Good night, Agent Mulder."

~*~*~*

Mulder was apparently celebrating his date with a box 
full of powdered donuts.  Scully stood in the doorway 
of the office, watching while he studied one.

"Hey," he said when he noticed her.  He held the donut 
up to one eye and peered at her through the hole.  
"Check out this donut. It's perfectly round, like a 
spare tire.  I've never seen one so symmetric before."

Scully walked in and set her briefcase on a chair.  
"Didn't your mother ever tell you not to play with your 
food, Mulder?"

He waggled his fingers through the hole in a vaguely 
obscene gesture. "How do you suppose they made it?  The 
other ones in the box aren't nearly as perfect."

"I'm sure I don't know."

"Come on, Scully.  You took physics.  Don't tell me 
there wasn't a chapter on donuts."

She frowned.  "I must have been absent on the day we 
covered baked goods."  

He wore a smear of white powder over his lip like a 
drunken moustache. Scully tried not to look directly at 
it, because when she did, she could taste the sugar on 
her tongue.  She cleared her throat.

"So is this our focus for the day, Mulder?  Unsolved 
donut mysteries?"

He shoved the magical donut in his mouth and took a 
large bite.  "Workfast, Scully.  The evidence is 
disappearing." 

Scully selected a donut from the box, pinching it 
delicately and holding it away from her dark suit as 
she took a careful bite.  Mulder, watching her efforts, 
rubbed the powdered sugar from his tie.

"The donuts are for Willie," he explained.  "I asked 
him to come by to talk about the Waeleski case."

"Willie Holcomb?"

Mulder looked surprised.  "You know Willie?"

"Ethan did a story on him last year.  I met him at a 
dinner last spring." Scully finished her donut and 
dusted off her fingers.

"Ethan gets around," Mulder muttered.

Scully ignored him.  "I don't see what you expect 
Willie Holcomb to contribute to this case, Mulder.  
He's not a credentialed investigator. And not to point 
out the obvious, but he's blind."

"Which is exactly why he brings a different 
perspective," Mulder said as he got up from the desk.  
He came around and perched next to her. 
"Give him a chance."

"I thought you wanted to sweat Coach Matlock."

"I want to find Patty Waeleski."  He shifted.  "You 
have donut juice on your chin."

"Donut juice?"  She rubbed her chin.

"That's what Samantha always called it."  He watched 
her for a moment, looking amused.  "No, to the left.  
The other left."  At last, he reached over.  "Here."

He cradled her jaw in his hand as his thumb swept under 
her lower lip. Scully held her breath.  "Mulder..."

"Hmm?" He was looking at her mouth, thumb paused 
against her cheek.

"You--it's on your lip, too."

He was still touching her.  "Hmm?"

"The...donut juice."  She brought her hand up, 
intending to give him a quick, efficient brush.  He 
turned his head at the last second and his lips 
collided with her fingers.  Scully drew back as if 
burned.

"Hello?" Willie Holcomb tapped his cane against the 
open door.  "You in here, Mulder?"

"Hey, Willie."  Mulder jumped off the desk in a hurry.  
"Come on in."

Willie grinned.  "Wasn't sure if I was interrupting.  
When I hear bodies in the room and no talking, I 
usually keep right on going --unless it's the library."  
He turned in the direction of Scully.  "And the other 
body would be?"

"Dana Scully," she said, taking his hand.  "We met a 
few weeks ago."

"Of course."  He clasped her warmly.  "You're Ethan's 
lady friend.  You didn't tell me you worked with Mulder."

"I'm the skeleton in Scully's closet," Mulder said.  "Never 
a black mark on her record until she got partnered with 
me."

Scully shot Mulder a dirty look, but Holcomb threw back his 
head and laughed.  "So you're a kept man now, eh?  'Bout 
time.  You've been down here by your lonesome far too 
long."

"I did okay," Mulder protested.

"Hey, do I smell donuts?"  Holcomb sniffed the air.

"Your standard dozen," Mulder said as he pulled the box 
across to the desk.  

Holcomb hefted the box as he took a seat.  "Feels a little 
light for a dozen."

"I tested them for quality," Mulder replied.

"Must've been some test."

Scully hid a smile.  Mulder grinned.  "Nothing but the best 
for you, Willie."

Holcomb took a bite of donut.  "So I understand you want to 
talk to me about that poor missing girl."

"Patty Waeleski," Mulder agreed.  "She's been gone for over 
two months now, and we're looking for anything new that 
might help us figure out what happened to her."  He told 
Holcomb about the videotape from the CD store where Patty 
was last seen.

"Describe it to me," Holcomb said, "and don't leave 
anything out."

Mulder cued up the tape on the VCR and described Patty's 
last known minutes moment-by-moment.  Scully watched as the 
girl turned for the millionth time and walked off the 
screen.

"That's it," Mulder said.

Holcomb looked thoughtful.  "I want to go there," he said 
at last.  "See it for myself."

Mulder and Scully accompanied Willie to the used CD store.  
Music was blaring over the speakers, but few customers 
browsed around in the bins.  Behind the counter, a young 
man looked up briefly from his comic book as they entered.

"Is this what it was like that day?" Holcomb asked as he 
began tapping his way around the store. 

"Much more crowded," Mulder said. "It was the weekend."

Holcomb nodded and walked off to the left.  "You say she 
was standing over here?"

"That's right."  

Scully trailed behind. When she was a child, she'd had to 
pass in front of a ramshackle house rumored to be haunted.  
Overgrown weeds and a large, rotting tree blocked the view 
of the front door. Shutters hid all the windows except for 
a small round one in the attic.  Two children died there, 
Bill had told her.  Killed by a witch who watched from the 
attic window, waiting for more.

Scully had kept her head down and hurried past the old 
house.  Walking around the CD store, she had the same 
creeping sense of dread.  She had not been inside before, 
only seen the images on the tape over and over again.  

Standing now where Patty had stood, it all became very 
real.

Holcomb's hands grazed the bin with the Beatles albums.  "I 
don't think he meant to snatch her," he murmured at last.

Scully raised her eyebrows.  "Excuse me?"

"On the tape, you said it seemed like he called to her from 
off camera."

"That's right," Mulder said, stepping forward.

"Camera range is how far back?"

Scully craned her head.  "About fifteen feet.  It misses 
the front door."

Holcomb nodded.  "That music is pretty loud.  You say there 
was a bunch of kids in here that day, would've been much 
louder.  He would've had to yell to get her attention, 
don't you think?"

"Seems reasonable," Mulder concurred.  He glanced at 
Scully, who nodded.

"Seems to me, you're thinking about grabbing the girl, 
you'd want to do it real quiet-like. Not be yelling your 
head off across a crowded store."

~*~*~

That night, Mulder had a different sort of date.

"Ahh," Willie said, wiping his mouth.  "Nothing better than 
a cold beer on a hot day."

"Yeah, well you earned it."  Mulder raised his own glass in 
appreciation.

"She ain't home yet."

"No, but we're getting close, right?"  Off Willie's look, 
Mulder asked, "What?"

Willie shook his head.  "I just hope you're prepared for 
what you find."

"You said yourself he didn't mean to take her that day," 
Mulder said.  "That means he didn't mean to kill her."

"He didn't mean to take her," Willie agreed.  "But he did."

Mulder took a long swig of beer.  "First we've got to find 
her.  I'll worry later about what comes after."

"I hope you do find her, man.  I really hope you do.  
Meantime, though, you might want to watch yourself."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Willie shrugged.  "She's spoken for, man.  Scully."

"I know that.  Believe me, I'm not interested."

"So that's why you're always in her space, rubbing on her 
like some alley cat?  May as well hang a sign on the lady 
saying, 'Mine.'" 

"I do not rub Scully."

"I only know what I hear."

"For your information, I had a date last night."

"Yeah?" Willie sucked on his beer bottle.  "Who was this 
lucky lady?"

"Melinda McKenn."

Willie choked.  "The little thing who runs the camera for 
Ethan?"

"We had a very nice time."  Mulder realized he was sounding 
like teenager back from prom.

"Oh, I get it.  He's got your girl Friday, so you take 
his."

Mulder blinked.  "That's ridiculous."

"Playing with fire," Willie repeated, shaking his head.  
"Someone's going to get burned."

~*~*~*~*~*~

End Chapter Six.  Continued in Chapter Seven.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

UNIVERSAL INVARIANTS

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Chapter Seven: Identity Crisis


This is who they were.

At age thirteen, Dana Scully was a straight-A student 
already doing advanced algebra in her spare time. Solving 
for X was work for some, but Scully always knew there was 
an answer -- you just had to find a way to get there.  
Identifying the missing variable gave her a sense of 
satisfaction, of power.  X had been lost but Scully found 
it.

She had wild red hair that would not cooperate with a comb 
and a mouth full of metal.  It seemed to Scully she had had 
braces forever, but really it had been only six months.  

Her sister had breasts now and went out on dates.  Her two 
brothers alternately bossed and tormented her.  Every few 
months her father would come through the door and rub her 
head and say, "There's my girl" like she was the just the 
same as when he'd left.

Scully started sneaking her mother's cigarettes and smoking 
on the porch late at night.  The person who did this 
naughty thing lived in Scully but was not Scully.  Anyone 
who found out what she was doing would be horrified -- Dana 
wouldn't smoke.  Dana knew better.

Thirteen year-old Dana took careful puffs and nurtured this 
secret part, this person she was becoming.

~*~

On his thirteenth birthday, Fox Mulder got drunk for the 
first time.  To say it had been a shitty year would be the 
understatement of his short lifetime.  His father seemed to 
take solace in the bottle so Mulder wondered if he might 
find answers there too.

He smuggled a bottle of gin up to the attic.  Gin was the 
only alcohol he'd tasted before, on hot summer nights when 
his mother had given him and Samantha small sips of her gin 
and tonic cocktails.  It tasted nothing like he remembered.

He drank it down, bitter taste matching the flavor inside 
him.  Wiping his mouth on the sleeve of his rugby shirt, he 
lurched to the dingy attic window and stared dizzily out at 
the backyard.  The swings swung empty in the fall breeze.

The world had come full circle again since Samantha had 
disappeared.  Mulder felt the ground moving beneath his 
feet, life rushing forward even as he tried to hold it 
back.

Wait, he wanted to cry.  I'm not ready.

He'd grown nearly four inches.  He wore a size 12 sneaker 
now -- men's sizes.  He looked into the mirror and did not 
recognize the face looking back at him.  His parents never 
looked at him at all.

Mulder opened the window and hurled the gin bottle out.  It 
hit the ground, ricocheting off of the soft grass.  It 
bounced and bounced, but did not break.

~*~

Patty Waeleski at thirteen was older than many adults three 
times her age.  She had early signs of arthritis in her 
wrists. She had been interviewed in every single major 
national newspaper.  The president of the country knew her 
name.

She had one goal: to go to the Olympics and win a gold 
medal.  

It was her goal, to be sure, but she couldn't remember when 
it started.  It seemed to her the gold had always been with 
her in her head, shining just out of reach.

She could recall falling in love with gymnastics.  She was 
four, and her friend Kimberly had a large trampoline in the 
backyard.  Patty bounced higher and higher into the sky, 
turning cartwheels and somersaults as the other kids 
cheered her on.

That night, she asked her parents for lessons.  By the end 
of the year, she and Kimberly were no longer friends.  
Patty had new all-consuming friends with exotic names like 
Pummel Horse, High Beam, and Uneven Bars.

She assumed she would grow up, go to college, get married 
and have kids.  But when she tried to imagine this future 
life after gymnastics, the picture was always hazy.

Don't worry, her mother said.  There'll be time for all 
that later.

~*~

Mulder drove past Patty's school on his way home from work 
one night.  Under the security floodlights, he could see 
the sign the students had erected in the front yard: COME 
HOME SOON, PATTY!  WE MISS YOU.

Mulder pulled over but did not get out of the car.  The 
sign had aging bouquets of flowers, faded ribbons and half-
burnt candles cluttered around it.  Patty's classmates had 
held several vigils for her in this very spot.

They wept and they sang and they prayed.  We miss you, they 
quoted from the sign.

Mulder knew better.  Patty's life had not afforded her time 
for these people; Patty was someone they'd passed in the 
halls and heard about on the news.

But he believed their tears.  He understood their 
desperation. 

If Patty, the tiny girl who seemed so large on the national 
stage, could vanish without a trace, then no one else was 
safe.

No one.

~*~*~*~~*~

"Say something," Scully prodded her parents as she held 
hands with Ethan at the dinner table.  They were out to 
eat, at a fancy restaurant with heavy silver forks, a view 
of the water, and a quiet table where Captain Scully dared 
not shout in public.

Maggie Scully dabbed at her mouth with a crisp linen 
napkin.  Her berry mousse sat half-eaten in front of her.  
"I think it's lovely news," she said, forcing a smile.

Scully's father frowned.  "Well, I don't.  'Living 
together' -- what the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"Now, Bill.  Lots of people do it these days."  But her 
tone suggested she couldn't fathom why.

"We're not talking about other people," Captain Scully 
said.  "We're talking about our daughter."

"Who is sitting right here at the table," Scully pointed 
out.

He shook his head and squinted at her.  "I never would have 
expected this from you.  From Melissa, maybe.  But not 
you."

"I don't know what the big deal is about it.  Mom's right.  
Everyone does it now.  I'd think you'd be happy for me."

"Happy."  He snorted.  "Because every parent dreams of the 
day when his little girl comes to him and announces her 
decision to move in with her boyfriend." 

"We're not here to ask your permission," Scully said 
stiffly.

"That's good because you wouldn't get it."

"Bill."  Maggie laid a hand on her husband's arm.  
"Enough."

Bill Scully folded his arms across his massive chest and 
rocked back in his chair.  Maggie turned her attention to 
Ethan and Scully.  "So when did you make this big 
decision?"

Scully and Ethan traded looks.  Scully cleared her throat.  
"A few months ago.  Last spring."

"Oh, that long.  It must be working out then.  That's 
good."

Ethan slid an arm around Scully's chair.  "Don't worry, 
Mrs. Scully.  I'm taking good care of her." 

"Six months this has been going on?" Captain Scully asked.  
"You know, in six months, I met your mother, courted and 
married her."

Ethan withdrew his arm and smoothed his tie over his chest.

"We're not you and Mom," Scully said. 

"You can say that again."

"But we love each other and we're going to make this work."

"Make what work?  Make sure the rent check is evenly 
divided in two?"

"Bill, you heard them.  They're taking the responsible 
route here, don't you think?  Would you rather they rush 
into a permanent commitment before they're sure they're 
ready?"

The Captain's jaw set.  "After six months, you're sure. One 
way or the other."

~*~*~*~

Scientists were going insane in the arctic, and somehow this 
became Mulder and Scully's responsibility.  They crowded 
with three others into a prop plane bound for Icy Cape.

As the landscape disappeared underneath the blowing snow, 
Scully turned her head to look at Mulder.  The fur of her 
parka tickled her nose.

"Tell me," she said, "did someone assign us this case or 
did you volunteer for it?"

"Yes."  He stretched over her to look out the window.  "You 
can barely see anything down there.  Can you imagine living 
like this for months at time?"

Scully placed both hands on his shoulders and pushed him 
back into his own seat. "My father used to tell this story 
about a guy on submarine duty that snapped one day at sea.  
He locked himself in the galley, took off his clothes, and 
smeared barbecue sauce all over his body."

Mulder raised his eyebrows.  "*All* over?"

"They busted the door in and he came at them with a butcher 
knife.  Dad said it was like something out of 'Apocalypse 
Now.'"

Mulder clamped a hand on her knee.  "Don't worry, Scully.  
I'll keep you away from the barbecue sauce."

~*~*~*~

The power was off when they walked into the base, but 
Scully could smell the answer as to why none of the men had 
responded to inquiring calls: all were dead.  Their bodies, 
half-stripped and covered in blood, lay scattered around 
the high-tech equipment.

"Five of them and five of us," Mulder murmured to her as 
they stood in the doorway surveying the carnage.  "What a 
coincidence."

Scully shivered.  "It looks like they killed each other."

Behind them, the others pushed into the room and the pilot, 
Bear, went in search of the fuse box.  "Body bags are on 
the plane," Hodge remarked.

"Before we touch anything, we have to thoroughly document 
the site," Mulder said.

Scully pulled out her camera and began snapping photos in 
the dark.  The men's eyes, white and terror-filled, lit up 
with each flash.  When she had finished, she searched out 
Mulder.  He was studying the melting remnants of an arctic 
ice core sample.

"This is what they were drilling for," he told her.

Scully braced the large camera on her hip.  "I'll have to 
perform autopsies to be sure, Mulder, but it looks like 
three of the men were strangled to death and the last two 
died of gunshot wounds.  What could have made them all just 
snap like that?"

Mulder held the ice core sample up to the newly-returned 
light.  "Whatever it is, you can be sure it's not barbecue 
sauce."

~*~*~*~

The answer turned out to be worms, not barbecue.  Bear got 
infected and ended up dead.  A spot check of everyone else 
suggested he was the only person infected with the worms.

Day dragged into night, though it was impossible to tell 
the difference.  Wind pummeled the small building, making 
it groan.   The sun had long ago left for hibernation.  
This close to the arctic circle, winter was just one never-
ending night.

As their remaining companions disappeared from the hall, 
Mulder and Scully lingered at their respective bedroom 
doors. Scully looked him up and down.  She wanted to say 
she was sorry for snapping at him earlier.  She wanted to 
ask him if he had ever seen worms cause homicide in the X-
Files before.  She wanted him to tell her they would all 
get out alive.
Mulder looked back at her, hair flat and eyes drooping with 
fatigue.  He was waiting for her to say something.

"Good night, Mulder."

"Good night, Scully."

Neither one of them moved.

"At least everyone's okay," she offered softly.

Mulder nodded.  "Don't forget," he added.  "The nodules on 
the dog went away."

He entered his room then, so she took a deep breath and 
entered hers.  A dead man's life hung on the walls -- 
posters, pictures, sports mementoes.  Here I am, the walls 
said.  This is me.

Scully recognized him as one of the strangulation victims.  
He and his friends smiled back at her from the candid 
snapshots.  They sat close, with cocky smiles.  

We are not who we are.

Scully shoved the photo back on the bureau and then dragged 
the bureau in front of the door.  She huddled next to it, 
her back against the dead man's wall.

~*~~*~

Murphy was next, killed in the night.  Scully found Mulder 
standing over the body.  He had blood one hand and his gun 
in the other.

"Mulder?" she asked carefully.  "What are you doing?

 "I found him like this. I heard one of the doors close, I 
came out to check it out. It's one of you."

He looked past Scully at the other two scientists.  Scully 
took a tentative step towards Mulder.

"He's lying," Hodge spat.

"He could have done it and not even known," added Da Silva.  
Her voice had taken on an edge of hysteria.

"It was one of you!" Mulder repeated, his eyes wild.  He 
waved his gun at the others.

"Stop it!  Shut up, both of you!"  Scully swallowed.  "Mulder, 
just put the gun down and let Hodge give you a blood test."

"Hodge is right," Da Silva said, standing back behind her 
colleague.  "We oughta lock him up!"

"I'm not turning my back on any of you," Mulder said as he 
raised his gun again.  "As far as I'm concerned, you're all 
infected!"

Hodge lunged for a crowbar and Mulder swung the gun around 
to him.

Scully had her weapon drawn in a flash. "Mulder!"  In all 
her years of service, she had only drawn her gun a handful 
of times, and almost never at a human being.  Now she had 
it pointed at her partner's head.

Mulder looked at her sideways. "Scully, get that gun off 
me!"

Her hands wavered. "Mulder, you have to understand!"

Suddenly she was looking down the barrel of his SIG.  "Put 
it down!" he yelled.

"You put it down first!"  The room spun.  Her heart 
slammed.  She remembered the two dead scientists, shot by 
their own hands.

"Scully! For God sakes, it's me!"

"Mulder... you may not be who you are."

Mulder relented.  For her, he would let himself be 
confined.  She locked him in a storeroom like he was a 
rabid animal.  Hair shaggy, lips still shining from their 
shouting match, he looked the part.

Scully wondered if she could make herself close the door.  
Mulder looked back at her from his new prison, eyes full of 
distrust.  He spoke so low she barely heard him.

"In here, I'll be safer than you."

~*~*~*~

It was something out of Alice in Wonderland.  One worm made 
you go crazy.  Two worms killed each other and made you 
sane again.

"Mulder isn't one of us anymore," Hodge had said.

Scully wasn't so sure.  In her opinion, outsiders were too 
quick to call Mulder crazy.  She was not leaving Icy Cape 
without her partner.

"I want to talk to him first," she said to Da Silva and 
Hodge. "Try to make this voluntary."

Mulder had been locked in the storeroom without food or 
water for nearly an entire day.  Even the dog had enjoyed a 
meal.

"You can't go in alone," Hodge protested.

Scully considered what she might find on the other side.  
She flashed on the fingermarks she had documented on the 
dead men's necks.  They had killed each other with their 
bare hands.

Mulder had such lovely hands.  It was one of the first 
things she had noticed about him.  Long fingers.  Golden 
skin.  His touch was always warm on her back.

Scully braced herself against the storeroom door.  "If 
anything happens," she said, "you come inside. I can't do 
this to him until I'm sure." 

~*~*~

Mulder leaned his head against the wall.  He sat in total 
darkness.  His shirt stuck to his back, his ribs.  Sweat 
plastered hair to his face.  Thirst made his tongue swell 
in his mouth and his brain turn to taffy.

He knew damn well he had not killed Murphy.  One of the 
three people on the other side of the door was a murderer.

Mulder wondered how would explain his helpless captivity if 
Scully ended up dead.  He pictured her shot or strangled, 
zipped up in one of her very own body bags.

Or maybe Scully was the killer.  That would be even harder 
to explain.  "I let her lock me up while she killed 
everyone else, sir."

Just then, the door slid open and Mulder scrambled to his 
feet.  He shielded his eyes from the strong light and 
studied her familiar silhouette.

"It's just you?" he asked, voice hoarse from hours of 
disuse. 

"Yes." The door slammed shut behind her and Scully turned 
on the light.

Mulder's eyes shrunk back in pain.  He squinted at her, 
taking in her pale face and messy hair.  He noticed she was 
not carrying her gun. "It's one of them," he said.

"No one's been killed since you've been in here," she 
replied.

"So?" 

"We found a way to kill it. Two worms in one host will kill 
each other." She took a step closer to him.  He could feel 
the heat of her body.  She was afraid.

"You give me one worm, you'll infect me."

Scully would not even look at him. "If that's true, then 
why didn't you let us inspect you? 

"I would have but you pulled a gun on me," Mulder 
whispered. "Now I don't trust them. I wanted to trust you."

"Okay," she whispered back.  She risked a glance at him. 
"But now they're not here."

Mulder stared down at her for a minute.  He wondered what 
she would do if he refused.  He could see her throat moving 
as she swallowed several times in quick succession.

Mulder turned silently, presenting her with his back as an 
animal might surrender as prey. Her hand clawed his T-shirt 
partway down his back.  He could feel the stir of her 
breath against his bare skin.  Mulder suppressed a shudder.

Scully's hand felt him up, checking for worms.  Her nimble 
fingers worked quickly over his muscles. 

She relented, relaxing.  He was not infected.  Mulder 
turned again, towering over her, and she gave him a 
sheepish smile.

He waited, not saying a word.  Scully went to leave and he 
grabbed her shoulders.  Her gasp, sharp and sexual, filled 
the tiny room.  He held tight but not enough to hurt.

She stood tense, breathing hard as he brushed aside her 
hair to get at her neck.  Mulder exhaled raggedly.  White 
and warm, her skin rippled under his touch.  He leaned down 
close enough to see the constellations of freckles dotting 
her neck.

No worm.

"All clear," he murmured, his touch becoming gentle.  
Scully trembled.  He did not remove his hands until she 
staggered forward to the door.

Together they went out into the light.

~*~*~*~*~

Much later, after Da Silva was both damned and saved and 
the Icy Cape research center had been torched to the 
ground, Mulder lay on his motel room bed in Nome, Alaska.  
Tomorrow the plane would carry them back to civilization.

Wooden paneling encased his small room, making it seem even 
darker and smaller. The old TV had rabbit ears but was 
hooked up to a cable box.  On Skinemax, a man and a bare-
breasted woman simulated intercourse to the beat of the 
synthesizer.

Mulder unzipped his fly -- more out of habit than desire. 
Exhausted but wired, he was looking for a little release.

He watched the bump-n-grind through slitted eyes.  

If sex were the opposite of death, he would need to do this 
about ten more times to make up for the hell of the last 
five days.

The blonde jiggled harder as the action sped up.  Mulder 
worked himself in tandem.

Scully was probably having a cup of tea and a hot bath.  
Here he was jerking off on top of an old bedspread with his 
shoes still on.

No, don't think about Scully.  It was a rule.  Whenever she 
crept into his fantasies, he viciously stomped her out 
again.  He was convinced she would know.  At the very 
least, *he* would know.

And he didn't want to share an office with someone he'd 
been moaning about in the shower with his dick in his hand.

No Scully.  Mulder lifted his head and looked at the blonde 
some more.  Instead he saw Scully's neck.  God, he loved 
that neck.  She wore her hair up a lot, head bent over a 
file with that perfect neck bare and smooth.  He wanted to 
take a bite out of her.

God, no Scully.  He squeezed his eyes shut and jerked 
himself faster.

"Mulder?" She rapped on his door.

Mulder leapt from the bed with his pants undone, crashing 
his shoulder against the wall.  He used the rebound to 
fling himself into the bathroom.

"Mulder, are you in there?"

"Coming!" he yelled.  He splashed cold water on his hands 
and face, and then zipped up.  Grabbing a towel, he went to 
the door. 

Scully stood there in leggings, a loose T-shirt, and that 
damned flippy pony tail.  "Yeah," he said, a little 
breathless.  "What is it?"

"I don't know.  I'm not sure what I'm doing here.  I went 
to get ice and somehow ended up at your door."

He eyed her.  "Where's your bucket?"

"Huh?"

"For ice."

Scully colored.  "Can I come in or not?"

"Sure."  He sighed and drew back the door.  Scully entered 
and immediately stopped dead at the sex party happening on 
his TV.  "Sorry about that," Mulder muttered as he smacked 
the "off" button.

"If this is a bad time..."

"No," he said, cutting her off.  "What's up?"

Scully sat in the raggedy chair as he flopped back on the 
bed.  "What do you think is going to happen to Da Silva?" 
she asked. 

"Not guilty by reason of insanity," he said.

"The worm made me do it defense?  I'd agree, but now 
there's no evidence."

"There's no evidence of the body either," Mulder pointed 
out.  "If it ever goes to trial -- and I doubt it will get 
that far -- I guarantee you Da Silva won't spend a day in 
jail."

Scully shook her head.  "I can't imagine it," she said.  
"Really going crazy like that.  I can't imagine not 
trusting myself."

"They say having schizophrenia is like dreaming while 
you're awake -- you can't be sure if the voices are coming 
from inside or outside.  You can't be sure what's real."

"I wonder what those men were thinking when they killed 
each other."  She kept her gaze trained on the faded 
carpet. "To know that it's your best friend killing you..."

"Scully."  He waited until she looked at him.  "We didn't 
shoot."

"No.  But we could have.  And we weren't even infected."

"You wouldn't shoot me," he said, smiling.  "I know."

"How do you know?" she asked, looking indignant all of a 
sudden.

"I know you."

"You've known me for six months, Mulder."

He shrugged. "Maybe that's all it takes."

"Now you sound like my father," she said.  Off his look, 
she explained, "He met and married my mother in just six 
months.  He thinks Ethan and I are taking too long to 
decide."

"What do you think?"

She searched herself.  "When I was little, everyone used to 
tell me all the time that I was just like my father.  We 
look the same.  We talk the same.  Cut from the same cloth, 
my mother said.  I used to look at him and think, that's 
who I will be when I grow up. Instead I'm this person my 
father hardly recognizes."

"So he's sure, but you're not," Mulder guessed.

"I'm not sure I'm not sure." She blew out a long breath. 
"But six months isn't long enough for me."

His cell phone rang.

"I can't believe you get reception!" she said.  "Mine's 
totally dead."

Mulder dug out the phone and answered it.  "Mulder," he 
said, flopping back on the pillows.  "Yes, that's right.  
What?  When?"  He sat up again.  "Okay.  Yeah.  We'll be 
back tomorrow, late afternoon.  Thanks for letting me 
know."

"What is it?" Scully asked when he had hung up.

"No word on Patty, but another girl is missing.  Age 
fifteen and a freshman track star."

"Same guy?" Scully asked.

"For Patty's sake, I hope not.  Or she's going to be 
thirteen forever."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

End Chapter Seven.  Continued in Chapter Eight.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

UNIVERSAL INVARIANTS

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Chapter Eight: Any Way You Slice It

By syntax6

Valerie Perez's class picture showed a lithe young woman 
with kinky black hair and a lopsided smile.  Scully tried 
to hand the copy back to Agent Benjamin Beltran, but he 
waved her off.  "Keep it.  We got plenty."

Scully glanced down at the picture again.  "Physically she 
doesn't resemble Patty Waeleski.  Valerie is older, darker 
and taller."

"Two young female athletes go missing within months of one 
another, you've got to check into a connection."  Beltran 
removed a toothpick from his mouth.  "What's he doing, 
anyway?"

Scully shielded her eyes from the wind as she looked up the 
street toward Mulder.  His black coat flared behind him; 
Mulder paced the sidewalk in front of the line of stores.

"Uh, he's working," Scully said as she turned back to 
Beltran.  The truth was she had no idea what Mulder was 
doing.

Beltran raised his eyebrows. He was green, like her. It was 
why he had drawn the short straw and ended up showing her 
and Mulder the probable scene of Valerie's abduction.  The 
big boys had long moved on to greener pastures.

"You know we've been over this place with the dogs, with 
the lab boys, with a freakin' fine tooth comb," Beltran 
said.  "There isn't anything to find.  The girl stopped in 
there," he nodded at the nearby convenience store, "bought 
a Coke, and that's the last anyone saw of her"

Mulder had stopped pacing.  He was watching the passing 
street traffic.

"No disrespect to Mulder and all," Beltran said, "but I 
just don't know what he expects to get from this little 
expedition.

Scully patted his arm.  "Then take notes," she suggested.  
"Here's your chance to learn."

She jogged up the road to Mulder.  "Anything?" she asked as 
she came to a stop beside him.

"Ballsy place to make a grab, don't you think?"

Scully looked around at the well-populated street.  "Middle 
of the day, lots of people around -- just like Patty."

"Yeah, that's what bugs me."

"What do you mean?"

"We're going on the assumption that Patty knew her 
abductor, and that's how he managed to lure her away in 
broad daylight without anyone seeing anything.  She would 
have gone willingly."

"So?"

"So this has the same earmarks.  If Valerie was abducted 
here, it was probably by someone she knew, at least 
casually."

"Different schools, different sports," Scully mused.  "I 
doubt they would have had many common acquaintances."

Beltran strolled up, toothpick waving from between his 
teeth.  "You sniffing the wind, Mulder?"

"Better than pissing into it."

"Excuse me?"

"I don't think Patty and Valerie are connected."

"You got that just from walking up and down here for ten 
minutes?  I go back to my SAC, he's going to want more than 
that."

"Okay, tell him it was twenty minutes."  Mulder touched 
Scully's back.  "Let's go.  I want to talk to Valerie's 
family."

~*~*~*~*~

Valerie Perez had lived alone with her mother in a postage-
stamp sized brick house.  Mulder and Scully entered right 
into the living room, where Donna Perez crowded with them 
in her makeshift foyer. 

"Fox Mulder and Dana Scully from the FBI," Mulder told her.

Scully eyed the crucifix hanging on the wall over Donna's 
shoulder.  The woman sniffed and nodded.  "Come in.  Do you 
know Sergeant Tartikoff?"

A large man in uniform sat in the high-backed chair by the 
fireplace.  He awkwardly raised a delicate china tea cup in 
greeting.

"No," Mulder answered.  "We haven't met."

"DC Police," Tartikoff said.  "I've been here since the 
beginning."

"Can I get you some tea?" Donna asked Mulder and Scully.

"No, thank you," Scully answered.

"We'd like to ask some questions about Valerie," Mulder 
said gently.

"Of course.  Please, come sit down."  Donna took a well-
worn corner of the sofa, a box of tissues at her right.  
She tugged a cordless phone and a string of rosary beads 
onto her lap.  

Mulder took the other single chair, leaving Scully no place 
but the other end of the small but overstuffed sofa.  She 
sat carefully so as not to jostle Donna.

With four adults, the room felt crammed, choked off with 
grief.  Scully imagined Valerie easily dodging the coffee 
table with her long, graceful limbs.

"Three days," Donna said.  "This is as long as we've ever 
been apart her whole life."

"What about Valerie's father?" Mulder asked.

"Persona non grata.  I haven't spoken to him in fourteen 
years now.  Neither has Valerie.  I don't even know where 
he's living anymore."

"No chance he could have tracked her down?"

"Eddie?" She looked up from her Kleenex.  "No way."

"What about a boyfriend?" Scully asked.

Donna squeezed her eyes shut.  "There was this kid, Jimmy.  
He was in her English class. Valerie talks about him all 
the time, about how cute he is.  But I didn't get the 
feeling he knew she was alive."  Her eyes flew open at her 
choice of words.  "I mean, she said they didn't really 
talk.  It was puppy love, you know?  A crush."

Scully smiled.  "I know."

"He was out looking for her yesterday.  They all were.  
Everyone's been so nice."

"What about trouble at school?" Mulder asked.  Donna shook 
her head.  "On the track team?"

"No.  Val loves that team.  The girls all come over 
sometimes, eat my refrigerator from top to bottom."  She 
gave them a tremulous smile.  "Coach Joe said Valerie's 
going to be a star.  He said she has a gift.  You should 
see her run.  It's like the wind, like dancing.  I knew the 
first time I saw her compete.  It was like watching a bird 
fly out of the nest for the first time.  Val was born to 
run.  That's why..."  She broke off, her eyes welling.  
"That's why I don't understand how he could catch her.  I 
don't understand how this happened."

Sergeant Tartikoff's beeper went off.  He stretched over 
his stomach to set his teacup on the end table. "Excuse me, 
please."

"Ms. Perez," Mulder said, leaning forward.  "Is there 
anyone you can think of who might have wanted to hurt 
Valerie?"

She glared at him, as though he had not been paying 
attention.  "Valerie is kind to everyone.  Who would want 
to hurt her?"

"Agent Mulder?" Tartikoff stuck his head in the room and 
motioned for Mulder to join him in the kitchen.  Mulder 
excused himself.

Scully sat with Donna while the wall clock ticked off slow 
seconds.  Everywhere pictures of Valerie seemed to be 
staring at down at them.  Scully tried not to look back.

"How did Valerie seem to you the last time you spoke?" she 
asked Donna.

"The last time," Donna repeated hollowly.  She turned 
haunted eyes to Scully.  "I see your cross."

Scully's hand went automatically to her necklace. 

"Are you Catholic?" Donna asked.

"Why do you ask?"

"You are, I can see."  Donna fingered the beads in her lap.  
"Every night since she before she was born, I prayed for my 
daughter's health and safety.  She's never been sick for 
more than a day in her life.  Last night, I asked God to 
send me a sign.  Tell me my baby is all right."

Donna stared at Scully's throat.  Scully wondered if the
other woman could see her heart hammering there.  

"Please," Donna said, raising her gaze to Scully's, "find 
my baby."  She reached over and grabbed Scully's hands in a 
tight grip.

"I--"

"Scully?" Mulder beckoned her from the doorway.

Scully pulled away from the mother's grasp, feeling the 
reluctant slide of Donna's fingers.  She walked across the 
carpet to Mulder, who leaned down to whisper right in her 
ear.

"They've found a body."

~*~*~*~*~

Scully did not know why she was surprised to see Ethan's 
van parked outside the crime scene.

"Seems like we're the last to know," Mulder remarked as he 
cut the engine.  "Maybe we should grab a camera and ride 
with them for a change."

Scully slammed the car door.  Ethan and Melinda were 
filming from behind the yellow tape as members from three 
different law enforcement divisions milled around the 
overgrown field.

"Dana!" Ethan waved as he caught sight of her.  Scully 
ignored him, turning to follow Mulder towards the crime 
scene.  Ethan jogged across to them.

"Coming?" Mulder asked, holding up the tape for her.

"Dana, hey."  Ethan, breathless, caught up to them.

Scully folded her arms.  "You go on," she told Mulder.  
"I'll be there in a minute."

"I didn't realize you and Mulder were working this case 
too," Ethan said.

"I could say the same thing."

"What does that mean?"

She shrugged.  "Seems like every time I turn around now, 
you've got a camera at one of my crime scenes."

"It's not personal.  You know that.  I'm just following the 
story."

Wind whipped Scully's hair into her eyes, and she clawed it 
away.  "There's a dead little girl over there," she said, 
"and all you can think of is a story?"

"Hey, I'm just doing my job, same as you. I hoped against 
everything that you guys would find her safe and sound.  I 
get absolutely no pleasure from this."

"No, you just show up to take the pictures."  She jerked up 
the tape and ducked under it, stalking away.

"Dana, wait!  Dana!"  His voice faded in the wind, and 
Scully threaded around uniformed officers to reach the spot 
where the girl's body lay.  Mulder, wearing latex gloves, 
was bent low near her head.

"Is it her?" Scully asked, hanging back.  The girl's neck 
was bent at an inhuman angle.  She lay covered in branches, 
bare, dirty feet sticking out on one end.

"It's Valerie," Mulder said as he stood up.  He snapped off 
the gloves.  "And I'm sure now that he knew her.  Look at 
the way he covered her up -- almost like a blanket."

Scully hugged herself around the middle.  "I'd have to do a 
full exam to be certain, but it looks like he broke her 
neck."

"She's been dead awhile," Mulder murmured.  "All those 
people looking for her, this was all they were ever going 
to find."

Scully scanned the large field, where men with dogs stepped 
carefully through the tall grass.  "Looking for tracks?"

Mulder squinted at them.  He shook his head, a short jerk.  
"Looking for others."

~*~*~*~*~

The body arrived on Scully's doorstep like a macabre 
Christmas present, wrapped in grim black nylon.  Scully, 
gowned and masked, supervised the unveiling and soon 
Valerie Perez lay naked on the table.

Scully swallowed as she stepped under the white-hot lights. 
A sizable gold cross glittered on a thin chain about the 
girl's neck.  Bruises ringed an uglier necklace across 
Valerie's throat.

Scully tried to get the necklace off, but her gloved 
fingers fumbled with the delicate catch.  She stripped them 
off and removed the cross with shaking fingers.  It swung 
like a pendulum as she held it up to the light.

*I prayed every night*

Scully took the cross to the bench and laid it gently down.  
Then she got out her fingerprint powder.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Mulder slumped on his couch, glass of iced tea in his hand 
and the TV blaring classic Warner Brothers cartoons.  Tom 
chased Jerry around the house with a frying pan, but 
somehow the mouse managed to dodge every blow.

Mulder knew he should identify with the mouse.  Lord knew 
fate always seemed to be chasing him with a frying pan.  
But just once, he wanted to see Tom brain Jerry a good one.

The noise of the TV drowned out the static in his head.  
Four hours ago, he'd had to tell Donna Perez her only child 
was never coming home.

So intent he was on zoning out it took him a good few 
minutes to realize someone was banging on the door outside.  
Mulder rubbed a hand over his stubble and slowly got to his 
feet.

He opened the door to find Melinda standing there with a 
pizza.  "Hi," she said.  "I thought you might be hungry."

Mulder looked behind her for the camera.  "How did you know 
where I live?"

"I'm an investigative journalist, remember?"  She balanced 
the pizza box on one curved hip.  The spicy tomato scent 
made Mulder's stomach growl.  "So can I come in?"

Mulder glanced behind him at the wreck that was his living 
room.  "Uh, sure."

"Cartoons," she said when she saw his TV.  She shrugged out 
of her leather jacket.  "My mom never used to let me watch 
when I was little."

"Yeah?"  Mulder turned down the volume.  "Why is that?"

"Too violent."  Her smile faded.  "I guess that sounds 
pretty stupid on a day like today.  I mean, who cares if 
two dimensional animals beat each other up?"

Jerry tripped Tom with a broom, sending him sprawling into 
the wall with a mashed face.  "Your mom's right," Mulder 
said, switching it off.  

They stared at each other. "So, do you have plates?" 
Melinda finally asked.

Mulder fetched a couple from the kitchen.  "I've got water, 
orange juice or iced tea," he called out.

"Tea sounds great, thanks."

He brought out the materials and spread them on the coffee 
table.  Melinda sat close, her thigh warm against his leg.  
She raised her glass of iced tea.

"What shall we toast to?"

Mulder didn't feel much like toasting.  "You choose."

Melinda peered into her glass.  "To heaven," she decided.  
"May we all get there one day."

Mulder narrowed his eyes at her for a second but clinked 
his glass with hers.  "So," he said as he lifted the lid on 
the box, "are you just moonlighting now as a pizza delivery 
person?"

"I'm not here to pump you for information about the case, 
if that's what you're wondering."

"Oh, you would never," Mulder agreed with mock seriousness.

She slapped him teasingly on the knee.  "I mean it. I just 
thought... I don't know.  I thought maybe you could use a 
little company."

"And a lot of pepperoni," Mulder agreed with a smile.  

"You didn't strike me as the leafy green type."

"Are you suggesting I'm not fresh and crispy?"

Melinda's lips curled upwards and she gave him a sideways 
look.  "I don't know about crispy.  As for fresh, I guess 
we'll just have to see."

They talked about New England.  She had cousins in 
Manchester, New Hampshire, and had often spent summers 
there as a girl.  "I can still smell it," she said.  "You 
know when you walk outside in the evening and the air is 
warm.  You can smell all the trees and the grass.  The 
night used to light up with fireflies."

"I used to catch them in a jar and find them dead the next 
morning."

She laughed.  "Didn't anyone ever tell you had to punch 
holes in the lid?"

They talked about baseball.  She was a Phillies fan, and 
Mulder shuddered at her confession.  "National league 
baseball is no fun.  Who wants to see a pitcher hit?"

"I'm a purist," she said.  "Nine guys on the roster.  Nine 
guys ought to hit."

"I hit four hundred my second year in little league." 
Dinner over, they both reclined with their feet on the 
table.

"Oh, yeah?"  She pointed at herself. "Four-twenty."

"You're kidding."

"Hey, feel that."  She flexed her arm for him.  "I still 
play softball every year."

He rubbed her bicep.  "Pretty impressive."

"My dad used to call me his little dirt dog."  She raised 
her chin.  "See that scar?  I got it breaking up a double 
play the first game I ever played."

The light was low.  Mulder could not see anything.  
"Where?" he asked, leaning in.  He breath tickled his 
cheek.

"Here," she said as she took his hand.  She rubbed his 
fingers across the faint ridge above her collarbone.  
Mulder could not seem to stop stroking.

I am not going to do this, he thought as he looked at her 
lips.

The next thing he knew, he was kissing her.

Melinda gave a breathy sigh and wound her arms around him.  
Mulder half lay on top of her, hands roaming freely now.  

Way better than Tom and Jerry, he thought.

She tasted sweet, like the tea, and he couldn't drink 
enough of her.  Dimly, he realized his phone was ringing.

"The machine will get it," he said, pulling away briefly.  
He returned his lips to hers.

"This is Fox Mulder.  You know what you can do with the 
beep."

"Muller?"  Scully's voice bouncing off his hard walls made 
Mulder freeze.  She sounded... odd.  "Muller, are you 
there?"

Nah, it couldn't be, he thought.  Scully, drunk?

He eased off of Melinda.  "I'd better get that."  He 
grabbed the phone and walked it to the kitchen.  "Scully?" 
he asked in a low voice.

"Muller," she said again, sounding relieved.  "It's you."

"It's me.  What's going on?"

"I did the autopsy, and I stopped for a drink."  He heard 
rock music in the background.

"Scully, where are you?"

"Umm, I'm in a bar."

"I gathered.  Which bar?"

"I don't know.  I haven't never been here before.  There 
was an electric eggplant outside."

"I know it."

"It's really loud here, Muller.  I can't think anymore."

"Stay put, okay?  I'll come get you."

"Muller."

He stopped in the process of hanging up.  "Yeah?"

"I've never cut up a little girl before."

"Hang in there, Scully.  I'm coming."  Mulder was already 
fishing out his car keys.  He snapped off the phone and 
went back to the living room.  "Listen, I am very sorry 
about this, but I have to run out for awhile."

"Sure." Melinda straightened her clothes and rose from the 
couch.  "Is Scully okay?"

"She's fine."

Melinda nodded, and he walked her to the door.  She ran her 
fingers over his jaw.  "Call me," she said.

"I will."



Mulder found Scully at a Georgetown bar called Eggplant 
Eddie's.  She sat in a back booth, nursing a glass of 
seltzer water.  Her white shirt was unbuttoned almost to 
her middle and her sloppy ponytail tilted off the back of 
her head.  

Mulder had no doubt they had carded her before serving her 
any alcohol. Agent Dana Scully, twenty-nine and looking 
more like the fifteen year-old girl she had carved open 
just hours before.

"Hi," he said, sliding in across from her.

She sat up. "Hi."  She rubbed her tired eyes.  "Sorry for 
making you come all the way down here."

"It's no problem."  He ducked his head to try to meet her 
gaze.  "You okay?"

"Yeah.  I just meant to have one but I didn't pay attention 
and kind of lost count."

"Happens to all of us."

She searched his face.  "You seem okay."

"I didn't have to do the autopsy."

"You knew she was dead before we even found her, didn't 
you?"

He shrugged.  "I suspected, yeah.  Fifteen year-olds like 
Valerie go missing, and the outcome is typically not 
happy."

Scully slouched again and fingered her glass. "Then can I 
ask you something?"

"Sure."

"Your sister.  Samantha.  She's been missing for a long 
time.  A lot longer than three days."

He dropped his chin, acknowledging the truth of her 
statement.

"What do you think the outcome is going to be there?"

"I..."  He shifted, trying to find the words.  "I think 
probably it's not a good one," he said quietly.  Scully's 
eyes were wide and full of sympathy.  "But I still have to 
find out."

Scully reached out and grabbed one of his hands with both 
of hers.  It was a messy, earnest gesture.  Mulder felt his 
ears go warm as she rubbed her thumbs over his wrist.

He squeezed her and broke contact.  "Let's get out of here, 
okay?"

She nodded.  "I don't remember where my car is."

"I think that's probably a good thing," he said, helping 
her up.

She stumbled into him, breasts pressing against his chest.  
Mulder held fast so she wouldn't fall down. "Easy now," he 
murmured.

Scully looked up at him with liquid eyes.  "You're so 
tall."

"No," he replied, amused, "you're so short.  Come on, let's 
go."

Scully was more steady as he led her to the door.  As he 
helped her into the passenger seat of his car, she said, "I 
found a fingerprint on her cross."  She indicated the gold 
necklace around her own neck.  "But no match.  Whoever he 
is, he's not in the system."

"We'll find him."

He drove her home and parked outside her apartment 
building.  "I'm fine from here," she said.

"I'll walk you in."  He left no room for argument.

They paused on front stoop under the light as she searched 
for her keys.  "Thank you for coming to get me," she said 
when she had found them.

"Anytime."

"Mulder..."  She reached out and touched his cheek, close 
to his mouth.  "You have lipstick on your face."  
Realization dawned.  "Oh, God.  You were with Melinda, 
weren't you?  I'm so, so sorry."

She covered her face with both hands, keys peeking out 
between.  He gently pried them down again.  "It's okay, 
Scully.  Really.  Let's go in, hmm?"

She made it through the front door without incident but 
dropped her keys opening the front door.  From behind her, 
Mulder reached down the same time that she did.  Ethan 
opened the door then to catch them in the rather suggestive 
position.  Scully strained to look up.  "Hi," she said.

Mulder stood.  Ethan looked Scully over from head to toe.  
"Where have you been?  I've been worried about you."

"I'm fine."

"I'll see you tomorrow, okay?"  Mulder asked, touching her 
arm.

"Okay.  Thanks again." 

Mulder hurried down the hall, but not fast enough to hear 
Ethan ask, "Have you been drinking?"

When Mulder arrived home, he turned on his TV.  Tom and 
Jerry were running around the kitchen again, as if nothing 
had ever changed.

~*~*~*~*~

The next morning Scully walked into the basement and 
gingerly put her briefcase down on the floor.  Mulder 
looked up from his desk.

"Rough night?"

"The night was okay. It's the morning that's the problem."  
She leaned back in the chair and closed her eyes for a 
moment.  "I want to apologize again--"

"Forget it.  You've bailed me out of a lot worse, remember?  
What are partners for?"

"Thanks."

"But I have some bad news."  She regarded him, waiting.  
"There is an informal memorial service for Valerie Perez at 
her school today.  I think we should go.  If, as we 
suspect, her killer was someone she knew, there is a good 
chance he'll be there."

Scully sighed.  "I suppose it's too much to hope he'll be 
wearing a sign around his neck that says, 'Killer.'"  

"I'll keep my eyes out."

She leaned down and extracted a folder from her briefcase.  
"Here's my full report from the autopsy.  In addition to 
the fingerprint, I found a few shards of glass ground into 
her backside. We might want to be looking for someone who's 
doing a lot of squinting."

Mulder raised his eyebrows.  "Oh?"

"I had the glass sent to the lab, and they called me a few 
minutes ago with the results.  It's prescription glass from 
eyeglasses.  Our killer wears bifocals."

"Huh.  That might make him older than I thought."

"I also found tissue under her nails.  Valerie got a couple 
of good scratches in before she died." Scully tossed the 
report onto his desk.  "So a fingerprint, glasses 
prescription and DNA.  If we can just figure out who this 
bastard is, we can nail him easily."

Mulder stood up and grabbed his suit jacket.  "Well, let's 
get going then, and watch the crowd for a squinty older man 
with scratch marks on his arms."

~*~

Valerie's memorial service drew a large enough crowd that 
the cops turned out to supervise.  A big portion of the 
mourners were her schoolmates.  They hugged each other and 
cried as Donna Perez thanked them for being such good 
friends to her daughter.

Mulder and Scully split up and worked the crowd.  No one 
immediately stood out as suspicious.  They met up near the 
back as the group paused to sing, "Amazing Grace."

"Anything?" Mulder asked.

Scully shook her head.  "I heard her coach is going to 
speak next, followed by her best friend Mandy."

"I wish it weren't the middle of November," Mulder groused.  
"Makes it hard to spot any scratches."

"Hey, do we know what the coach looks like?"

"His name is Joe Offerman.  That's all I know."

"That must be him over there."  Scully indicated a forty-
something man with a letter jacket on.  He held a piece of 
paper in his hand and appeared to be sweating despite the 
cool temperatures.  "He's wearing glasses," Scully pointed 
out.

"Thick ones, by the looks of it."

"Maybe we got our sign after all," Scully said.

"Let's get closer.  See if he's got any scratches."

They worked their way through the crowd, but the song was 
ending and coach Joe went to take the podium.

"What's the friend's name?" Mulder asked in Scully's ear.

"Mandy."  Scully turned.  "I think that must be her over 
there."

A skinny blonde girl with tears streaking her face waited 
near the podium.  She also wore a letter jacket.

"I have an idea," said Mulder.  Scully followed him through 
the crowd until they reached Mandy. The girl practically 
jumped out of her skin when Mulder touched her shoulder.  
"Agent Mulder, FBI," he said, showing his ID. "Are you 
Valerie's best friend?"

The girl nodded.  "I've known her since first grade."

"Could you come with me for a moment?"

"But I have to speak next."

"I know, and you'll get that chance.  I just need you to 
come back here for a few minutes."

Hesitant and frowning, Mandy allowed Mulder to lead her to 
the back of the crowd.  "Your coach," he asked, "is he a 
good guy?"

"Yeah, he's okay."

"Just okay?"

She shrugged.  "He's not bad, but some people don't like 
the way he plays favorites."

"And was Valerie his favorite?"

Mandy looked on him with scorn.  "Of course.  She was only 
the best runner on the team!"

Joe was wrapping up his remarks.  "I'd like to invite Mandy 
Jenkins up here now to say a few words," he said.  

Mandy started forward, but Mulder held her by the 
shoulders.  "Not just yet."

"Mandy?"  Joe leaned forward and searched the crowd.  
"Mandy, where are you?"

"Wave at him," Mulder asked.

Mandy waved her arms.

"I seem to have lost Mandy," Joe said ruefully.  He 
adjusted his glasses.

"Okay, you can go ahead," Mulder told the girl, who rushed 
through the crowd.

"He couldn't see her," Scully said.

"Probably because his glasses broke and he's wearing an old 
pair."

"I'd still like to get a look at him and see if he's got 
scratches.  That would be enough for a warrant to collect 
samples."

"Go," Mulder answered.  "But be careful."

Scully worked her way through the tightly-packed bodies 
until she reached the front.  Joe stood off to the side, 
wiping his glasses.  She did not see any scratch marks on 
his hands.

Scully sidled up next to him.  "That was really moving, 
what you said about Valerie."

He smiled.  "She was really something special.  I can't 
believe she's gone."

The collar of his coat mostly obscured his neck.  "You must 
have spent a lot of time with Valerie," Scully said.

"Five days a week.  The girl had amazing raw talent.  Did 
you ever see her compete?"

"I'm sorry to say that I didn't.  She must have had a lot 
of admirers, though, from the number of people who have 
turned out today."  Her pulse picked up.  "I just hope it 
doesn't rain."  Scully looked to the sky to see if he would 
follow suit.

He took the bait.  Her heart froze at the sight of a long, 
jagged red mark on his neck.

"I think we'll be okay," he answered.  "So tell me, how is 
it you knew Valerie?"

Scully pulled out her ID.  "Actually, I didn't.  I'm 
investigating her murder."

Joe paled.  "Oh?  I hope you catch the guy."

"Where did you get that scratch mark on your neck?"

"What scratch mark?" he asked even as his hands flew to 
touch it.

"That scratch right there."

"Uh, I don't know.  Can't say I even noticed it.  You get 
banged up pretty good in the gym."

"Or during a murder."

Joe reacted in a flash, shoving Scully hard to the ground.  
People around her stumbled, she took a heel to the face.  
"Mulder!" she yelled from the mix.  There was no way he 
heard her.

Scully fought her way free from the tangle of limbs in time 
to see Mulder and one of the cops tackling coach Joe.  The 
crowd immediately went into a roar.  Scully pushed and 
shoved until she was clear of the group.

The uniformed officer had cuffed Joe.  Mulder was brushing 
off his coat.  "He's your guy," Scully said when she caught 
up to him.  "He's got the scratches."

Mulder touched her cheek.  "What happened?  Are you okay?"

The heel had landed on the corner of her eye and her 
cheekbone.  Scully winced away from Mulder.  "I'll live."

"You should get that checked out."

"I said I'm fine."

But late afternoon found Joe Offerman cooling his heels in 
jail as Scully cooled her cheek with a pack of ice in the 
basement.

"Is it any better?" she asked Mulder.  She feared she knew 
the answer.  Her left eye had swollen shut already.

"What about a steak?" he said.  "Isn't that supposed to 
help?"

Scully sighed.  "It will be okay when the swelling goes 
down."

Mulder came around the desk to stand over her.  He cupped 
the uninjured cheek and raised her face to him.  "You look 
like you went three rounds in the ring."

"But I won," Scully said with a satisfied smile.  

Mulder grinned back and tapped her on the lips with his 
thumb.  "That you did."  He pulled away.  "Come on, I'll 
drive you home."

"I can drive."

"Uh-huh.  As long as you don't need to make any left turns, 
you're fine.  Let's go."

So, for the second time in as many nights, Mulder walked 
Scully to her door.  "Thanks," she said.  "Again."

Ethan opened the door before Mulder could reply.  "Jesus," 
he said when he saw Scully's face.  "What happened to you?"

"It looks worse than it is."

Ethan glared at Mulder.  "You bring her home plastered one 
night and beat up the next.  What's tomorrow, a body bag?"

"Ethan, stop it!"

"I should go," Mulder said.  

"Yes, you should," Ethan agreed.

"Night, Scully."  He hurried away before she much of a 
chance to say anything.

Scully slammed the door behind her.  Ethan was pacing the 
living room.  "I saw the news," he said.  "There was 
nothing on it about you getting hurt."

"Not everything important gets reported on the news, 
Ethan."

He stopped and looked at her.  "Are you okay?  Did you see 
a doctor?"

"I'm fine.  What the hell gives you the right to speak to 
Mulder that way?"

"I'm sorry."  He took a step toward her.  She looked away.  
"I'm really sorry.  I saw your face and I panicked.  Call 
it shooting the messenger."

"I want you to apologize."

"Dana," he said, stroking her arm.  "I'm very sorry."

"Not to me.  To Mulder!"

"I will."  He took her in his arms.  "I will, I promise."  
He rocked her back and forth until she relaxed.  Scully put 
her arms around him and let him sway her gently.  "This 
job," he murmured.  "It's killing you."

Not dead, she thought.  Just dented.

~*~*~*~*~*~

End chapter eight.  Continued in chapter nine.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

UNIVERSAL INVARIANTS

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Chapter Nine: Father Figure

By syntax6


Christmas Eve day arrived chilly and gray, not cold enough 
for snow but the kind of damp that seeped straight to the 
bones.  Scully slipped into her long wool coat.  As she 
adjusted the collar from under her hair, she saw Ethan 
putting his coat on too.  

"You're coming?" she asked.  "Without a camera?"

"Would it be so bad if I did bring one?  I mean, can you 
look me in the eye and honestly say you're not going there 
to work?"

"No," she admitted.  She looked at the floor.  

It was Patty Waeleski's fourteenth birthday.  Her parents 
had arranged a gathering at their church in Patty's honor.

"So why are you going?" Scully asked.

"Her parents said it was for anyone who wanted to bring 
Patty home."  He smiled and Scully smiled back.  She 
squeezed his hand with gloved fingers.  He held on.

"When I was little," he said, "about ten, this kid in my 
neighborhood disappeared.  Bobby Callender.  He was older 
than me, already in junior high.  I didn't know him that 
well, but all of us kids used to ride our bikes around, 
back and forth to the park.  One night after dinner, Bobby 
rode his bike down the street and never came home."

Scully squeezed his hand again.  "That's awful."

"What I mainly remember is my mom's fear.  Me and Kenny and 
Ruth weren't allowed out of her sight for the rest of the 
summer.  Drove us crazy.  By the next summer everything was 
back to normal, except Bobby was still missing.  Last I 
heard his mom was still living in the same house at the end 
of the street -- just in case he ever came home."  He shook 
his head.  "Funny, what you remember."

"Yeah."  She tugged him towards the door.  "Let's go then."


Parking was a problem.  Ethan finally found them a spot 
three blocks away, and they hurried down the wet street to 
the giant stone church.  People sat shoulder-to-shoulder in 
the main sanctuary, talking quietly.  Scully scanned the 
crowd and easily picked out Mulder just from the tilt of 
his head.

"There," she said, grabbing Ethan and making her way to the 
pews on the left side.  

Mulder saw them and lifted a hymnal from the bench next to 
him.  "Hey, I saved you a seat."  His gaze slid to Ethan.  
"Might be a bit tight for two."

"We'll manage," Scully said as she took the spot next to 
him.  Everyone pushed down a bit to make room.

Up close Scully could see Mulder had just had a haircut.  
It was too short by his ears and stuck up a little in the 
back.  She fought the urge to smooth it back down.

"Mulder," Ethan said, sticking out his hand across Scully.  
"Good to see you."

Mulder looked at Ethan's hand a moment before shaking it.  
"Ethan."

"Happy holidays."

"Yeah.  Happy."  They let go and settled back on either 
side of Scully as Patty's mother approached the tall 
podium.

She wore a simple navy dress with a red heart pin affixed 
to the front.  "Thank you all for coming today," she said.  
"Wherever Patty is right now, I'm sure she would take 
comfort in knowing how much you all care."

Mulder leaned into Scully.  "Somehow I don't think it will 
be as easy to pick out the killer in this crowd," he 
whispered.

Scully craned her neck to study the rows of people.  "Most 
of them aren't even out of high school."

"You see Coach Matlock over there?"

For once, Matlock did not wear athletic clothes.  He looked 
subdued in a dark sweater and slicked-back hair.

"Pretty daring of him to show up here if he's the killer," 
Scully murmured.

"He has to.  Can you imagine if he failed to show?  
Eyebrows would go up all over town."

Scully indicated a girl near the front.  "That's his number 
one prodigy now, Lindsey Beckwith."

"Yeah?  She doesn't look that happy about it."

Ethan elbowed Scully.  "Hey, you two.  No talking during 
class."

"One of these boys is the one Patty had a crush on," Mulder 
said, ignoring him.  "Evan Yearling."

Scully let her eyes linger over the little boys dressed in 
serious suits.  Many of them, too, sported Christmas 
haircuts.  She spotted one young man tugging at his tie.  
He had dirty-blond hair, clear skin and an 
uncharacteristically well-balanced shape for a teenage boy.  
"That one," Scully said.  "I'd bet on it."

"Really?  Seems kind of shrimpy."

Scully snorted.  "Look at him.  Put him on TV and all the 
girls would be hanging posters in their rooms.  Besides, 
look at his brother and his father.  Those genes age well.  
You're looking at three guys who are used to getting 
anything they want just by smiling."

"I wouldn't know anything about that."

Scully gave him a sideways glance. "No, I'm sure not," she 
said, lips curving upwards.

There were songs and prayers for Patty's return.  Both her 
mother and her father spoke.  But the last to say anything 
was her six year-old brother, Timothy.  They got him a 
footstool behind the lectern, and he climbed up and put 
both hands out in front.  His chin stuck out as he worked 
to reach the microphone.

"Hi, my name is Timmy and Patty is my sister and I want to 
say a prayer for her to come home soon."  He spoke in a 
high, breathy voice, fidgeting with each word.  The 
congregation bowed their heads for him.  "Dear God, I know 
tomorrow is the day you sent baby Jesus to us.  I think it 
would be a good day to send Patty home because we really 
miss her a lot.  I even got her a Christmas present.  So 
promise me you'll think about it, okay God?  Thanks.  
Amen."

Scully sucked in a slow breath.  "Wow," she said as the 
piano started up for a last hymn.

"Wonder how he'll feel about God tomorrow when Patty 
doesn't show up," Mulder replied.

The congregation stood and sang together.  "A mighty 
fortress is our God..."

Afterward, Ethan waited at the back of the church as Mulder 
and Scully worked their way to the front to speak to 
Patty's parents.  Her mother was surrounded by well-
wishers.  Mulder pressed his hand to Scully's back and led 
her towards Tom Waeleski.

"Agents," he said, hugging his son to his side.  "Thank you 
for coming."

Scully smiled down at Timmy.  "That was very brave of you 
to get up in front of all these people today."

He shrugged and hid his face in father's hip.  Tom ruffled 
the boy's hair.  "He's a good brother."  He looked from 
Scully to Mulder.  "Anything new on the case?"

"Afraid not," Mulder said.  "But we're still looking.  I 
wanted to ask you again about your daughter's arm."

Tom's features darkened.  "If you're trying to say I hurt 
her--"

"Who said that?"

"I've heard talk.  But it damn well isn't true.  Ask Timmy.  
He'll tell you.  I've never even spanked my kids."

Timmy clung tighter.

"What would you say if I told you Patty didn't sprain her 
arm falling out of the tree?" Mulder asked.

Tom went blank.  "What?  Who said that?"

"It's true, Dad."  Timmy tugged on Tom's jacket.  "Patty 
and me made up the tree story.  She was already hurt when 
she got home from school."

Tom knelt in front of his son.  "Who hurt her?"

"I don't know.  Patty didn't tell me."

"What about you, Mr. Waeleski?" Mulder asked.  "Any ideas?"

"No, this is the first I'm hearing about this.  Maybe-maybe 
her mother would know."  But he did not sound sure.

"In her notebook," Mulder continued, "Patty had written, 'I 
hate her. I hate her.  I hate her.' Any idea what that 
could be about?"

"God."  He rubbed his face.  "No.  I mean, Barbara and 
Patty had squabbles, but hate?"

"Patty didn't like Lindseyoh," Timmy offered.

"Yeah?  How come?" Mulder asked.

"She said she was mean.  She used to play tricks on Patty 
at the gym."

"How come I never heard about this?" Tom demanded. 

Timmy shrugged.  "Patty must've not told you."

"But I'm her father."  He turned to Mulder and Scully.  
"How could she not have told me?"

"She was thirteen," Mulder said gently.  "Teenagers often 
keep secrets from their parents."

"We talked every day."  He sounded truly bewildered.

"Tom?" Barbara called from across the room.  "Could you 
come here please?"

"It's okay," Mulder said.  "If you think of anything, if 
you hear anything, just let us know."

Tom still had not moved.  Timmy tugged on his hand.  
"Daddy?"

"Yeah," he said.  "I'm coming."

Scully stepped closer to Mulder as they both watched Tom 
Waeleski walk to his wife.  "It must be hard for parents 
when they realize their kids have their own lives."

Mulder shook his head.  "It's more than that.  He just 
realized Patty probably knew the person who abducted her.  
If Patty knew him, Tom probably knew him too.  Maybe let 
him into the house.  Maybe paid his salary.  And Tom never 
sensed a thing."

Scully looked toward the back, where Ethan waved at her.  
"I'd better get going," she said.  She touched his arm.  
"Merry Christmas, Mulder."

Mulder was watching the Waeleskis embrace.  "Yes," he said.  
"Merry Christmas, Scully."

~*~*~*~

The day before New Year's Eve Scully served her parents 
lasagna and salad in sight of her Christmas tree, which 
still sparkled with lights.  Growing up, her father had 
shipped out the tree on the morning of December twenty-
sixth.  It ended up on the curb wrapped in black plastic, 
like one of Scully's corpses from the morgue.  

"So tell me again where Ethan is," her mother said.

"Mexico," Scully replied, setting down her wine glass.  
Which was just as well.  The last thing she needed was her 
father using the restroom and seeing Ethan's shaving kit.  
The fewer reminders of their living arrangement, the 
better.  "He's doing a piece on a doctor who is providing 
alternative breast cancer treatment there."

"Maybe he'll fall in love with a senorita and stay down 
there," Captain Scully said.

"Bill!"

"I'm just joking.  Dana knows I'm kidding, right Dana?"

"Sure, Dad."

"You had a chance yet to hook up those remote control 
lights we got you?"

"Not yet."

"I can do it for you if you like."

"No, thanks.  I'll get to it soon."  Her parents had 
purchased her remote control attachments for her lamps.  
She didn't have the heart to tell them what she really 
longed for was some night-vision goggles.

Her mother helped her clear the table.  The forks had 
barely clattered into the sink when her father announced 
they should be shoving off.

At her mother's prompting, her father managed to grind out 
a last question.  "So how's work?  Good?"

"Yeah.  Good."

She hugged his familiar bulk and walked them to the door.  
Scully watched them head out into the cold night, watching 
Captain Scully view she knew best -- his back, retreating 
away from her.  Scully waved.  Only Maggie waved back.

Four hours later her mother called to say he was dead.

~*~*~*~

Their plane to Raleigh had barely retracted its wheels from 
takeoff when Scully nodded off against his shoulder.  
Mulder put aside his file and reached back to trace a 
finger along her arm.  She was still wearing her black suit 
from the funeral.

Mulder questioned the logic of going straight from a burial 
to a gruesome kidnapping case, but Scully said she wanted 
to work.  He decided to forge ahead and shield her as best 
he could.

Mulder picked up the file carefully so as not to jostle 
her.  Luther Lee Boggs's mug shot glared back him.  Boggs 
said he had information on the missing college kids, but 
Mulder knew the only way Boggs had that kind of inside 
scoop was if he had arranged their kidnapping himself.

They say everyone in prison needed a hobby.

Twenty minutes later, the plane hit a bad patch of 
turbulence and Scully jerked awake.

"You okay?" Mulder asked as she blinked at the sun 
streaming in through the oval window.

"Yeah."  She smoothed her wrinkled jacket.  "Sorry about 
that."  Leaning over, she peeked at the files spread out on 
his lap.  "Are those the kids who were abducted?"

"Elizabeth and Jim." He handed her the information.

"More missing kids," she sighed.

"At least we have a shot at finding them this time."

"It would be nice for a change."  She sounded wistful.  "Do 
you really think Boggs is behind this?"

"I wouldn't put anything past Boggs.  He gets high marks 
for creativity."

"You said he wasn't the product of abuse, that he kills 
because he likes it."

"Don't get me wrong -- Boggs had you classic white trash 
upbringing.  His father was the kind who drove a giant 
Chevy covered in Jesus bumper stickers but then parked in 
the handicapped spot at the supermarket.  His mother 
dressed the same for bingo as she did for church.  But they 
weren't abusive."

Scully leaned back and turned her face to the window.  
Mulder waited but she didn't say anything.

"What are you thinking?" he asked finally.

"Boggs's parents."  She looked at him.  "I was just 
wondering if they came up to see his execution.

~*~*~*~

Luther Lee Boggs in person did not really look like a 
serial murderer.  He was barely bigger than Scully herself, 
with stringy hair and a bony chin.  Only his eyes, small 
like pits, and the cold edge in his Southern drawl gave him 
away.

He put on quite a show for Mulder, claiming psychic powers 
told him where the kids were.  A waterfall that wasn't 
water.  A stone angel.  They were held in a warehouse where 
the killer tormented them with a wire clothes hanger.

For once, Mulder did not believe.  Scully moved to follow 
him out of the cell.

Boggs started singing.  "Somewhere, beyond the sea..."

Her father's song.  Scully froze. She turned in slow 
motion, and there he was in Boggs's place.  Scully recoiled 
in horror at her father's face.

"Did you get my message, Starbuck?"

Scully fled the cell, but Mulder caught up with her.  
"Scully, are you all right?  Did Boggs say something to 
you?"

"No.  You were right, Mulder.  It's my father.  I'm sorry."

"It's okay.  Why don't you just go back to the motel?  
We've exposed Boggs for a fraud."

Scully left, intending to go back and climb into a hot 
shower.  But she stopped a red light and there it was.

A waterfall that wasn't water.  A stone angel.

Scully took a detour.

~*~*~*~*~*~

She found the scene of the crime but not the criminal.  
Scully sat alone in her motel room on the hard-backed 
chair.  She had the lights blazing and the TV off.  
Everywhere she looked, she saw her father.

A knock at the door jolted her from her trance.  "It's 
Mulder," Mulder said from the other side.  She let him in, 
and he told her Liz's parents had ID'd the bracelet from 
the warehouse.

"Did Boggs confess?" she asked.

"No, just five hours of Boggs's channeling. After three 
hours, I asked him to summon up the soul of Jimi Hendrix 
and requested 'All Along the Watchtower.  You know the 
guy's been dead for twenty years and he still hasn't lost 
his edge."

"I lied to the police about how I found the warehouse," 
Scully blurted.  Her heart pounded as she said the words 
aloud.

Mulder looked at her curiously.  "Then how did you find 
it?"

"It was right where Boggs said it would be."

"Scully, I told you about Boggs."

"I thought it would be a better explanation under the 
circumstances."

Mulder narrowed his eyes.  "What you're really saying is 
that you didn't want to go on record admitting that you 
believed in Boggs.  The bureau would expect something like 
that from 'Spooky' Mulder, but not Dana Scully."

"Does this have to do with your father?"

Scully shook her head, unable to look at him.  Her throat 
ached with tears.

"You said he didn't approve of you becoming an FBI agent," 
Mulder continued.  "Now, if being on the job now makes you 
feel guilty or uncomfortable or uneasy, I think you should 
back away because if it's clouding your judgment, you're 
putting yourself in danger."

Scully finally raised her eyes to his.  "I love this job."

Mulder's answer was infinitely gentle.  "You love your 
father."

~*~*~*~*~*~

At eleven that night, Mulder was walking past her room with 
a pizza when something made him stop at the door.  He 
listened in and heard the TV playing on the other side.  
Mulder rapped softly.

Scully answered wearing her pajamas and her trademark messy 
ponytail.  She also sported red-rimmed eyes behind her wire 
glasses.

"Heard the TV on and figured you were up," Mulder 
explained.  "Hungry?"

Scully widened her door to let him in.  "I can't remember 
the last time I ate."

"Then it's good I'm here."  He flopped on the side of the 
bed where she had not turned down the covers.

"Dominos," she said as she took the side opposite him. 

"Best I could do around here on short notice."

"It's fine.  You know, it's funny.  My father really liked 
Dominos."  She smiled.  "I think it was the prompt delivery 
service.  My father was a big fan of being on time."

"I guess the Navy would that to you."

"Actually, the really funny part was the way he was so 
loyal to a brand.  My mom's always been a big coupon 
clipper.  She was loyal to whatever was on sale.  My dad, 
he felt like if Tide always got your clothes clean, you 
should stick with Tide.  They once fought for two days over 
hot dogs.  Can you imagine?"

"Oscar Myer all the way."  Mulder leaned back against the 
pillows and took another bite of pizza.

Scully bent her head, ponytail tickling the back of her 
naked neck.  "I'm sorry.  You probably don't want to hear 
all this."

"No."  He touched her knee.  "Tell me."

She shook her head, dismissing the idea.  For a minute or 
so, she chewed her pizza thoughtfully.  "Mulder, what about 
your parents?" she asked at length.  "You've never really 
talked about them."

"Not much to say.  They're divorced.  Both live in New 
England."

"I'm sorry."

"Hey, New England's not that bad," he said, and she smiled.

"I mean about the divorce."

He shrugged.  "They split when I was fifteen.  I went with 
my mom and my dad went off by himself.  He's been that way 
ever since."

"So your mom lives on Martha's Vineyard?"

"No.  They sold the house in the divorce."  He slapped the 
pizza crust against his palm.  "I guess that's when I 
knew."

"Knew?"

"Samantha.  They didn't think she was ever coming home."

"Mulder..."  Her eyes filled with sympathy.

"Forget it.  Tell me more about your dad."

"I don't know what to say."  She sighed.  "All my life I 
wanted to be just like him.  Now he's gone and I'm not sure 
I knew who he was.  I guess I just thought there would be 
more time."

"Yeah."  He grazed her knee again.  "You tell Ethan yet?"

Scully colored noticeably.  "Actually, no."  She licked her 
lips.  "He's so busy.  I've only talked to him once.  I 
just--I don't want to say it over the phone."

"I can understand that."

Scully stared at her lap.  "No, that's a lie."  Mulder 
waited.  She took a deep breath, twisting the blanket with 
her fingers.  "My father didn't like Ethan very much.  Vice 
versa too as you can probably imagine.  I just don't think 
I could take him saying, 'I'm so sorry' right now."

"He would be sorry for you."

"I don't want that.  I don't want anyone feeling sorry for 
me."

"Of course not."  He hoped she did not think this was a 
pizza pity party.

Scully closed the lid and slipped back underneath the 
covers.  She lay on her side, facing him, with one arm 
tucked beneath her head.  Mulder checked out the TV.

"Hey, 'Bringing Up Baby.'  I love this movie."

"Feel free to watch."  Scully's eyes were drifting closed.

Mulder ate a last slice of pizza and watched Kathryn 
Hepburn chase her leopard around.  He smothered a yawn with 
his arm.  The bedside clock read nearly midnight.  

Mulder clicked off the TV and the room was engulfed in 
quiet.  He could hear the soft breath coming from Scully as 
she slept.  Grabbing the pizza box, Mulder crept from the 
bed.

He went to her side intending to shut off the light.  As he 
reached her, he stopped for a moment and watched her sleep.  
Then, setting aside the box, he bent down and gently 
removed her glasses.  After another moment's thought, he 
tugged the tie from her ponytail as well.  Her hair slipped 
like silk through his hand.

Mulder touched his fingertips to her warm head.  "Sweet 
dreams," he murmured.

~*~*~*~*~

Mulder and Scully shared a hurried cup of coffee in the 
front seat of their rented Taurus.  The stone fortress of 
Raleigh Central Prison loomed over them.  Inside, Boggs had 
three days left to die.

"Let's go," Mulder said as the dashboard clock turned over 
to seven AM.
 
Scully took her half-finished cardboard cup with her.  
"What if he still refuses to talk?"

"Haven't you noticed?  All Boggs wants to do is talk.  We 
just have to give him enough rope and let him hang 
himself."

They paused as the guard moved to let them in through the 
iron gate.  "So long as he doesn't hang Liz Hawley and Jim 
Summers along with him," Scully replied.

Hours stretched by.  Time on Liz and Jim's survival clock 
was ticking down.  Scully tried not to watch the second 
hand sweep around and around as Mulder paced the narrow 
room.

"How come you don't believe me?" Boggs asked over the 
closed-circuit TV. "Agent Scully believes me."

"Agent Scully believes what we all believe. That you have 
the kids. Now where are they?"

Boggs dropped the phone and all communication.  They heard 
him moaning on the other side.

"Mulder," Scully said, "Even if he is setting us up, we 
have to follow because in three days... "

"Liz Hawley and Jim Summers will be dead," Mulder finished 
grimly.

"We have to deal."

Boggs fell for their bluff, giving up the location of the 
kids and the killer.  Mulder raced for the door as soon as 
they had the details.  Scully lingered.  It seemed to her 
that Boggs got interesting only when they were on their way 
out the door.

He didn't disappoint.

"Mulder," he called, a breathless, greasy Cassandra.  Both 
Scully and Mulder waited.

"Don't go near the white cross," Boggs warned.  "We see you 
down... and your blood spills on the white cross."

~*~*~*~*~*~

Afterwards, Scully recalled everything but a white cross. 
 
Not that she had really had time to look for one.  She 
couldn't see, could barely hear over the roar of blood in 
her ears.  Night hung like black crepe.  Dim light cast 
watery shadows across the dock.  The heavy footsteps of men 
behind her rocked the aging wooden planks, and the 
persistent slap of water gave the illusion of being at sea.
Scully lost track of Mulder in the darkness.  She had her 
gun drawn, ready to shoot at anything that moved funny.  
Sheets billowed.  Water dripped.

She heard running and shouting.  Then the shot.
"Mulder!"

Too late she saw it.  White pipes crossed at the middle.  
Mulder's blood smeared down the front.

After that, the only thing she heard was her own voice 
screaming.  "Officer down!  Officer down!"

Scully slouched in the waiting room chair, cheek propped on 
one hand.  She still wore her work boots and FBI 
windbreaker.  Her jeans were stained with Mulder's blood.

She must have closed her eyes because she had to open them 
again when the doctor called her name.  "Hmm?" Scully said, 
jerking upright.

"Agent Mulder came through surgery just fine," Dr. Adams 
said.  "He's in recovery now."

Scully rubbed the feeling back into her cheek.  "Can I see 
him?"

"He's not awake yet, but sure.  Go right in."

Scully entered quietly, but it was hard to imagine she 
could be more of a distraction than the blazing overhead 
lights and the repetitive beeping of the heart monitor.  
Mulder's skin matched the pillow beneath his head and he 
was still hooked up to an IV.  His injured leg stuck out 
from under the covers.

Scully stood by the bed and inspected the job they had done 
on his IV.  Grudgingly, she had to admit it looked pretty 
neat.  She smoothed the blankets and went to peek at his 
chart.

"Busted," he said as she peered over the numbers.

Scully jumped.  "You scared me!"

He gave her a slow, drugged smile.  "So what's the 
prognosis, doctor?  Am I going to live?"

"That's not funny."  Her hands were still shaking as she 
replaced his chart.  "Mulder, when I saw you lying there..."

"Hey."  She looked at him, and he held out his hand.  "Come 
here."

Reluctantly, she moved to his side, and he held her hand.  
It was reassuringly warm.

"Feel that?" he said, squeezing.  "I'm okay."

"That's good, because one funeral a week is my limit."  She 
took a shuddering breath.  He squeezed her again.  "How are 
you feeling?" she asked.

"Truthfully, I'm not feeling much of anything. It's a good 
thing getting shot hurts so much or I might be tempted to 
make a habit of it just for the drugs."

"Also not funny."

"Oh, come on.  It was a little funny.  It's not like I have 
my best material to work with here."

Scully smiled in spite of herself.  She felt her eyes 
crinkle with fatigue.   Mulder rubbed her hand as if to 
warm it.

"You look exhausted," he said.

"There's a reason for that."

"You should go back to the motel.  Get some rest."

She shook her head.  "I can't.  We've found Liz but Jim is 
still missing."  She pulled up a chair and sat down.  
"There's still no sign of Lucas Henry or Jim Summers. The 
Raleigh police said..."

"No matter what, don't believe him," Mulder ordered. "Boggs 
created this whole charade to get back at me for putting 
him on death row. You'd be the next best thing."

"Mulder, I never thought I'd say this... but what if 
there's another explanation?"

"Don't... deal with him. He could be trying to claim you as 
his last victim."

~*~*~*~*~*~

Boggs's last victim turned out to be himself, as his crimes 
finally sent him to the gas chamber.  They sent Mulder and 
Scully back to DC with a completed case and a mostly happy 
ending.  Liz and Jim were safe.  Boggs would never hurt 
anyone again.

Scully conked out on the ride home, slumped like a rag doll 
against the side of the plane.  Mulder would have liked to 
join her but the lancing pain in his leg made it 
impossible. 

He grimaced and shifted his injured leg farther into the 
aisle.  Their heroics merited them accommodations in first 
class.  Mulder had welcomed the extra legroom while Scully 
had stroked the wide leather seats.

"I've never flown first class before," she'd said, 
wriggling in place like a little kid.

Mulder guessed if you were raising four children on a Navy 
salary, first class seats became an impossible luxury. 
"They'll give you champagne with your peanuts," Mulder told 
her affectionately.

He looked at her now, exhausted from chasing a killer and 
mourning her father at the same time, and figured Captain 
Scully could be proud of his legacy.

Riding through the night sky with a bullet wound in the leg 
gave a person the chance to contemplate his own mortality.  
A foot northward and Mulder might have been serving a life 
sentence underground. 

He touched his middle, imagining a hole there.  His mother 
would come to the funeral.  His father too, he supposed. 
They could sit on opposite sides -- he with the bottle, she 
with her pills -- and compete for the Most Tragic Parent 
award.

Frohike would probably moon the coffin.

Mulder smiled at the thought.  Scully sighed in her sleep, 
snuggling awkwardly against the plane.  He touched the back 
of his finger to her thigh and stroked her lightly until 
she settled again.

He wondered what she would do if he died.  Her homework 
assignment for the brass completed, she might get a bump 
upstairs.  Shed that spooky skin and climb back into the 
light.

He imagined her years later sitting behind a large desk and 
telling the young pups in dark suits what to do.  Maybe one 
of them would ask her about him.  Maybe she would say he'd 
been a crazy sonofabitch who believed in ghosts and 
goblins.  Maybe she would say, "He was my first partner."

Maybe she would call him a friend.

He woke her at the landing, causing her to sit up quickly 
as she took a long, deep breath.  "We're here?"

"We are very much here."  He grimaced as the plane bounced 
down, jostling his leg. 

Scully winced with him.  "You okay?"

"I think this pilot hates me."

"We'll be sure to leave a lousy tip then."

He swiveled his head, and she gave him a wry smile.  Mulder 
let her help him up onto his crutches and he hobbled down 
the aisle with Scully carrying all the luggage behind him.

"You have a future as a pack mule, Scully."

"Spoken like a man who wants his underwear accidentally 
spilled onto the gangway floor."

Scully drove him home and accompanied him to the fourth 
floor.  He leaned against the wall, dizzy with pain and 
fatigue, while Scully opened the door with his house key.

She poked her head in slowly, unfamiliar with his turf.  

"Light's on the left," he told her. 

Scully blinked as his apartment lit up.  He limped past 
her.  "Mulder, this is really nice."

"You sound surprised.  Were you expecting a hovel?"

"I don't know."  She set his bag down and continued to look 
around his living room.  "I expected at least a lava lamp 
or something."

Mulder eased himself onto the couch.  "I have to save 
something for the bedroom."

"You have fish," she said, sounding delighted.  She went to 
the tank and bent over to look at them.  "They look 
hungry."  Scully retrieved the fish food and sprinkled some 
over the top.  She dusted her hands.  "Well, I guess I'd 
better be going."

"Ethan awaits."

"Here's your key," she said, preparing to toss it to him.

He waved her off.  "Keep it.  I have another."

"Mulder..."

"You never know when I might need someone to feed my fish."

She ducked her chin, hiding a smile.

"Hell," he said, running his hand through his hair, "in the 
next few days, I might need you to come sprinkle some food 
over me.  I don't think I'm moving from this couch."

"Do you need help?" she asked, instantly concerned.

"I'm fine.  Go home, Scully."

"I can stay--"

"Go."

"Okay."  She took a deep breath and nodded.  "Call me if 
you need anything."

"I will."  He watched her slip his key into her back 
pocket.  "Night, Scully."

"Night."

He leaned back and closed his eyes, listening to her 
footsteps fade away.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

End chapter nine.  Continued in chapter ten.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

UNIVERSAL INVARIANTS

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

by syntax6

Chapter Ten: Vows


Morning dawned cool, wet and gray as winter and spring 
continued to war for control of D.C.'s weather.  Constant 
rain drizzled against the window even as the city began to 
green up again.  

Scully snuggled deeper under the covers.  "I don't want to 
move," she said into the pillow.

Ethan chuckled and kissed her neck.  "Then stay here.  I 
can think of lots of things to do that don't involve 
leaving this bed."

"I just bet you can," she said with a smile.

His fingers found her belly through a gap in her 
nightshirt. "I don't have to be at work until noon today.  
You could call in, say you had a doctor's appointment or 
something."

Scully stroked the side of his face for a minute and then 
sighed.  "Can't.  I have to go to Baltimore."

"What's in Baltimore?"

"The Druid Hill Sanitarium."

"The Druid Hill what?"  He propped himself up on one elbow.  
"Hey, wait a minute.  Isn't that where they sent that crazy 
man who broke in here?"

"Tooms, yes."  She wriggled out from under his considerable 
weight.  "They're thinking of releasing him, and Mulder and 
I have been called to testify."

"Releasing him?  It's only been a few months since you put 
him away the first time! He attacked you.  You mean they're 
going to let him out after that?  He broke in here and 
nearly killed you!"

Scully, her back to him, touched her middle.  Sometimes 
when she closed her eyes she could still feel Toom's strong 
fingers probing at her, trying to find her liver.  "Nearly 
killed is an exaggeration," she argued. 

"The hell it is.  You told me this guy eats people's 
livers.  What kind of insane parole board would ever let 
him out on the streets again?"

"That's why we have to go up there.  To stop it."

"Let Mulder do it."

She turned.  "What?"

"The last thing this Tooms guy needs is to see you again.  
He doesn't need to be reminded of any unfinished business."

Scully went to her closet to pick out a suit.  "I can't not 
go, Ethan.  You know that.  Besides, he's going to be under 
lock and key.  He can't hurt me."

"What if they let him go?"

Scully dropped her hand from her clothes.  "They won't do 
that."

"But what if they do?"

"They won't.  Mulder and I between us have enough evidence 
to keep Tooms locked up for the rest of his natural 
lifespan, whatever that may be."

Ethan came up behind her and put his hands on her 
shoulders.  He tugged until she leaned back against him.  
"I just don't want to see you get hurt," he said, folding 
his arms around her.

She patted his hand.  "I'll be fine."

~*~*~*~*~*~

Scully hurried down the bleak hall of the sanitarium, the 
clicking of her heels smacking back at her off the narrow 
walls.  She found the door to the hearing room and slipped 
inside to take a seat.  Mulder met her eyes briefly before 
continuing his testimony.

"I contend that perhaps through genetic mutation, Eugene 
Tooms is capable of contorting and elongating his body in 
order to gain access to victims so that he may extract the 
livers which provide him with sustenance for the 
hibernation period of 30 years. He needs one more liver to 
complete this cycle."

Scully looked at her lap as the courtroom erupted in 
murmurs of disbelief.

"Your honor," protested the defense.

"A preliminary examination done at the time of Tooms's 
arrest revealed abnormalities in his striated muscles and 
axial bones," Mulder continued.  "His attorney blocked 
further study."

"I must ask that you place the safety of..."

"Counsel?" the judge interrupted. 

"...the people first and foremost..."

"No further questions, your honor."

Mulder raised his voice.  "This is a rare and unusual human 
creature."

"Agent Mulder!"

" ...who should not be released, but should be retained for 
further study."

The Judge scowled.  "You may step down!"

"If you release Eugene Tooms, he will kill again. It's in 
his genetic make-up."

Outside, Scully caught up with Mulder as he sat on a bench 
with his head in his hands.  He looked up at her approach.  
"You think they would have taken me more seriously if I 
wore the gray suit?"

"Mulder, your testimony -- you sounded so..."

"I don't care how I sounded so long as it was the truth.  
And where were you?  Your testimony was important."

"I got called into a meeting with Assistant Director 
Skinner."

Mulder looked at her curiously.  "What did he want?"

Scully reflected on the conversation.  Skinner had chewed 
her out while the man with the cigarettes stood there and 
said nothing.  "Just wanted to reel me in," she told 
Mulder.

"They're ready now," came the announcement.  Scully and 
Mulder went back into the courtroom to get the bad news.

Tooms was released.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Scully and Mulder ate thick sandwiches inside their steamy 
car.  Rain beat down hard and steady on the metal roof.  
Outside people hurried past with umbrellas, not noticing 
the two people having a picnic in the parking lot.

"I can't believe they let him go," Scully said. "I promised 
Ethan that wasn't going to happen."

"Dangerous promise."

"Yeah, well, he's afraid Tooms may pay us another visit at 
the apartment."  She lowered her sandwich and licked her 
lips, hesitating.  "Do you think that's likely?"

"That he'll bother you again?  Things didn't turn out very 
well for him the last time he tried it, so I'd be surprised 
if he went after you again.  A liver is a liver is a liver, 
right?  So I don't think so."  He leaned over to her.  "But 
I'm not going to promise," he added pointedly.

Scully lowered her gaze, looking chagrined.  He sniffed.  
She smelled faintly of cigarette smoke.

Mulder settled back into his seat.  "So tell me more about 
this meeting you had with Skinner."

"Not much to tell," she replied, lifting a shoulder.  "He 
feels we should take a more orthodox approach to solving 
cases."

"And the Smoking Man?  What did he say?"

Scully looked at him sharply.  He tapped his nose.  She 
sighed.  "He said nothing.  As usual.  What does he want, 
Mulder?"

"Come on.  You must know."

She shook her head, eyes guileless.  He could not believe 
they had sent her to him this naïve. 

Mulder squinted out at the rain and considered how much to 
tell her.  "Let's just say," he said slowly, "when I asked 
for the X-Files, it took months for them to be delivered 
from storage.  When they arrived, the boxes stunk to high 
heaven.  It's a perfume I've become more familiar with 
since then.  You smell it every time you walk into 
Skinner's office."

"The Smoking Man had the files?  Why?"

"My guess? To keep anyone else from having them."  Mulder 
took a long swig of soda.  "And I think he wants them 
back."

~*~*~*~*~*~

Ethan arrived home late from the studio just as she was 
preparing to leave again.  "Hey," he greeted her as he 
tossed his keys onto the side table.  He looked her up and 
down, taking in her overcoat.  "Where are you off to?"

Scully slipped a root beer into her paper bag.  "Work."

"The office?  At this hour?" Ethan grabbed a soda for 
himself and popped the top.

"Not the office."

"Must be in for the long haul if you're bringing rations."

"They're for Mulder.  He's on stakeout."

"Stakeout?" Ethan set his soda can down.  "Not that Tooms 
guy."

Scully avoided his eyes.  "I have to get going."

"Dana."  He blocked her path.  "I thought you said he 
wasn't going to get out."

"Ethan, I'm late.  I have to--"

His fingers bit into her arm.  "Let someone else handle it 
for a change.  This guy nearly killed you."

"There isn't anyone else!"

Ethan went still, glaring at her.  He released her arm.  
"That's right.  I forgot.  It's just you and Mulder against 
the world, right?  No one else will do."

"They *released* him.  No one else believes he's 
dangerous."

Ethan's expression softened.  He touched her elbow.  "I 
believe."

Scully drew a long breath and grabbed her paper sack.  
"I've got to get going."

"Mulder will be with you?"

"Right now he's by himself.  I'll talk to you later, okay?"  
Scully kissed his cheek.  

He hugged her tight.  "Promise me you'll be careful."

"I'll be careful."

"Promise."

Scully closed her eyes.  "I promise."

~*~*~*~*~

She found Mulder's car parked in the shadows down the 
street from the Green house.  She waved at him and went to 
the passenger door.  When she opened it, an avalanche of 
fast food remnants threatened to rush out onto the 
sidewalk.  Scully shoved them back in. 

"Mulder, it's getting a bit ripe in here, don't you think?" 

Mulder reached across her lap and pulled out a pine tree-
shaped air freshener.

"Pine-scented," he said, waving it at her.  He stuck it on 
the rearview mirror.  "Better?"

Scully shook her head, bemused. 

"Tooms hasn't come out of the house all day," Mulder told  
her. "I sat through a Phillies game, an Orioles game, and 
four hours of Ba-Ba-Booey. When it got dark, I took a walk 
around the block. Do you have that sandwich that I asked 
you to bring?"

Scully dug the sandwich out of her paper bag. "It's 
liverwurst." 

"Ha-ha," replied Mulder, but he opened it up. Scully took 
note of the smudges under his eyes.

"Mulder, you know that proper surveillance requires two 
pairs of agents, one pair relieving the other after twelve 
hours."

"Article 30, paragraph 8.7?"

"This isn't about doing it by the book. This is about you 
not having slept for days. Mulder, you're going to get 
sloppy and you're going to get hurt. It's inevitable at 
this point." 

"A request for other agents to stakeout Tooms would be 
denied. Then we have no grounds. 

"Well, then I'll stay here. You go home." 
 
Mulder put his arm over the wheel.  "They're out to put an 
end to the X-Files, Scully. I don't know why, but any 
excuse will do. Now, I don't really care about my record, 
but you'd be in trouble just for sitting in this car and 
I'd hate to see you to carry an official reprimand in your 
file because of me."

Scully sighed.  "Fox," she said, trying out the word.

Mulder's laughter cut her short.  She looked at him, and he 
waved the air awkwardly.  "And I... I even made my parents 
call me Mulder. So... Mulder." 

"Mulder, I wouldn't put myself on the line for anybody but 
you."
 
~*~*~*~*~

Scully's head lolled back against the car seat.  Hours of 
sitting rendered her rear-end flat and her feet numb.  The 
build up of carbon dioxide steamed the windows and made her 
sleepy.  

She yawned against the back of her hand.  The dashboard 
clock told her it was just after two-thirty.  The only 
people awake were she and the yahoos sharing conspiracy 
theories on talk radio.  The last caller just spent ten 
minutes advancing the theory that Janet Reno was a man.

All the lights across the street remained off.  She saw no 
sign of movement from Tooms.

So tired.  She blinked slowly.  Her eyes were closed.  She 
told herself to open them again but the lids refused to 
rise.  Wake up.

"Hey."

The sudden rush of cold air as the door opened made her 
lurch up with a gasp.  Ethan sat in the passenger seat.

"What the hell are you doing here?"  Her heart was still 
slamming around in her chest like a pinball.

"What the hell am I doing here?  What about you?  I thought 
you said Mulder was going to be with you."

"He needed rest."  Scully glanced at the house where Tooms 
was staying.  Still no signs of life.  "Ethan, you have to 
go.  Right now."

"The hell I will.  I'm not leaving you here by yourself." 

"I'm fine."

"You didn't even hear me drive up!  It could be that 
monster sitting here next to you instead of me.  I can't 
believe Mulder would go off and leave you alone like this 
after what happened last time.  What the hell is he 
thinking?"

"I made him go.  Just like I'm making you go now."  She 
reached across him and pushed open his door.  "Get out of 
here, Ethan."

He slammed the door shut again.  Scully jumped as the noise 
echoed down the quiet street.  "Shhh!  What the hell are 
you doing?"

"I'm not leaving you."

"Ethan, I know you think you're helping but you're not. I'm 
trained for this.  You're not.  Instead of worrying about 
Tooms, I have to worry about you. I'm in more danger with 
you here."

Ethan reached into his pants and pulled out a revolver. 
"Don't worry about me.  I can take care of myself."

"Where the hell did you get that?"

"It's legal."
 
"You don't know how to fire a gun."

"Put your finger here and pull."  He located the trigger.  
"How hard can it be?"

"Jesus, stop that.  You want to get us both killed?" 

"Hey, if we're going to have mutant men breaking into our 
apartment, I want to be prepared."

"Ethan, listen to me.  Put away the gun.  Put it away now 
and go home."  Scully risked another glance at the quiet 
house.

"I will if you'll come with me."

Scully bowed her head.  "You know I can't do that."

"Then I'm staying."

Scully said nothing.  She picked up her cell phone and 
started dialing.

"What are you doing?" Ethan asked.

"Calling the cops.  You're interfering with a federal 
investigation."  Scully put the phone to her ear.

"You--you wouldn't do that."

"It's ringing."

"Fine."  Ethan shoved open his car door.  "I'm leaving.  
I'll go.  But don't expect me to be home when you get 
there."

Scully winced as the car shook with his slam.  In her ear, 
a woman's mechanized voice broke the news.  "At the tone, 
the time will be three-oh-two and forty-five seconds."

~*~*~*~*~

Scully caught up with Mulder outside of Skinner's office.  
"Mulder, I got your message..."  She broke off as she saw 
his face.  He looked even more worn than the night before, 
when she had sent him home to rest. "What happened?" 

"Skinner wants us both inside right now."

She touched his arm, stopping him. "Mulder, what's going 
on?"

"Apparently while you were keeping watch last night, I 
broke into the Green's house and beat the crap out of 
Eugene Tooms."

"What?"

Mulder opened the door and Scully followed him inside.  The 
Smoker was already halfway through a smoke, ash dangling 
precariously.  He took a deep puff and stared right at 
them.

"Agents, have a seat," Skinner ordered.  Scully looked to 
Mulder, but he did not look back.  They sat in silence.  
"These are serious allegations," Skinner said, coming 
around the desk to loom over them.

"A good forensic scientist would know that there is not 
only a shoe print but also an impact point from inside the 
shoe.  An in-depth analysis of Tooms's injury would show 
that my foot was not inside the shoe at the time of 
impact."

"Mulder, are you suggesting that Tooms is framing you?"

"Of course."

"If indeed you were engaged in unauthorized round-the-clock 
surveillance of the Tooms, how could he possibly gain 
access to your shoe without you seeing him?"

Mulder opened his mouth to speak.  Scully sat forward.

"Sir? I was engaged in unauthorized surveillance as well 
and Agent Mulder was orienting me on the situation at the 
time Tooms was admitted into the hospital.  Agent Mulder 
could not have done it because he was with me."

Skinner squinted at her.  The Smoker paused in mid-puff.  
She could feel Mulder's eyes on her.

"You wouldn't be lying to me, would you?"

"Sir, I would expect you to place the same trust in me as I 
do in you."

Skinner paused.  "Agent Scully, may I have a word with 
Agent Mulder, please?"

Scully had no choice but to leave Mulder in the lion's den.  
Outside, she loitered in the hall and pretended to read the 
plaques detailing great feats of agents past.  Mulder 
emerged after another five minutes, already loosening his 
tie.

"What happened?" she asked him.

"Don't ever do that again."

Scully blinked.  "Excuse me?"

"That line of bull you fed Skinner about how I was with you 
at the time Tooms was attacked."

"I was just trying to help."

Mulder raised a finger at her.  "All you did was drag 
yourself into the mess with me.  They're looking for 
anything to hold against us right now.  If they think 
you're lying for me, then that's evidence they can use to 
bury us.  You're not doing us any favors."

"I'm sorry."

He rubbed his eyes.  "And you're a lousy liar."

"Sorry," she said again.

"Go home and get some rest.  Ethan will have forgotten what 
you look like."

"What about Tooms?"

"We're forbidden to go near him."

"Mulder..."

"Look at it this way," he said, "at least it means our 
livers are safe."

~*~*~*~

Scully shut the apartment door behind her and leaned 
against it.  The house was gray and silent.  No message 
blinked on the answering machine.  Scully shrugged out of 
her coat and walked to the bedroom.

The bed had not been slept in.

She curled atop the bedspread, pillow tucked under her 
chin.  Scully slept.

~*~*~

Tooms made the mistake of gnawing on a ribcage along with a 
liver.  Scully matched the tooth marks and Tooms was 
busted.  It was up to Mulder to beard the mutant in his 
nest.

One terrible escalator ride later, Mulder was covered in 
bile but Tooms was gone for good.

"Mulder," Scully said, trying not to wrinkle her nose too 
much at his smell.  "Are you okay?"

Mulder shook off some of the vile yellow substance.  "You 
definitely get the next mutant."

Cleaned up, they accepted kudos from the Baltimore police 
department even as Skinner offered stony silence.  The 
gloomy weather continued to dominate, gray skies and mist 
stalled overhead.

Mulder stopped on the way to the car and stared at a 
caterpillar's cocoon glued to the naked branch.

"Okay, let's go." Scully rattled the keys.

"It's amazing how things change, isn't it?"

Scully followed his gaze.  "The caterpillar?"

"No, a change for us.  It's coming."

"How do you know?"

He looked sideways at her.  "A hunch."

Mulder walked away, leaving her no choice but to follow.

~*~*~*~

During the dead time, as Mulder thought of the time between 
cases, he walked the streets where Patty had lived.  He 
passed her house.  He jogged by her school.  Sometimes he 
sat outside her gym and watched the girls come and go.

Tonight he went back to the used CD store where she had 
disappeared.  It was locked up tight, chains across the 
door.  Mulder cupped his hand around his eyes and peered 
inside.

Next month would mark the one-year anniversary of her 
disappearance.  The CDs topping the charts that day now sat 
in the bargain bin.

Mulder backed away from the door and studied the flyers 
pasted halfway up the display window.  Local concerts and 
theater performances, many of them long past, were detailed 
in black-and-white.  In the center sat one faded flyer.

Missing, it read.  Patty Maureen Waeleski.

Mulder touched the cold glass.

He sighed and turned back down his well-trod path past the 
toy store, the GAP, the café and the art house movie 
theater.  Mulder stopped to look at the marquee. 

Maybe he could see a movie.  There was no way he was going 
to sleep that night.

As he considered the options, the doors opened and people 
began to trickle out into the night.

"I knew it had to be the barber," a familiar voice said.  
"Of course he was the only one who could plant Jim's hair 
at the murder scene."

Mulder looked down and saw Melinda in front of him.  She 
was laughing and hanging on the end of a large blond man.  
Her smile disappeared when she saw Mulder.

He held up his hand.  "Hi."

"Hi."  She said something to the man that Mulder couldn't 
hear.  He nodded and Melinda strolled across to Mulder.  "I 
was thinking of seeing a movie," he said.

"We saw 'Unkindest Cut,'" she said.

He nodded.  "The butler did it."

"Yeah."  She scuffed her shoe. "Sorry about giving it away 
like that.  I have a big mouth."

"I've had enough of murder mysteries anyway."

People dispersed around them, leaving only Melinda's date 
cooling his heels by the potted fern.  
"What's his name?"

"Steve.  He works at the station."  She tilted her head.  
"You were going to call," she said.

"I was."

"But you didn't."

"I guess not."

"You mind if I ask why?"

Truthfully, until he found her standing in front of him, he 
had not thought of her at all.  "I don't know," he said, 
because it was the truth.  "Work, it's been kind of crazy 
lately."

She nodded, accepting his lame attempts at explanation.  
"You still working Patty's case?"

"Always."

"I hope you find her."

Mulder figured at this point they were looking for a 
skeleton.  "Thanks.  Me too."

"I've got to get going," she said, running her hand down 
the length of his arm.  She squeezed him.  "If you ever 
have time to make that call..."

"Yeah."

Mulder said goodnight and watched them walk away. He 
stepped up to the booth and a gum-chewing teenager gave him 
a bored look.  "Can I help you?"

"Is there really a movie called 'Hell'?"

"It's 'Hell Hath No Fury' but Hell was all they could fit 
on the sign."

Mulder slid his money across.  "One for Hell," he said.

~*~*~*~

Scully had told Mulder she was leaving right after him, but 
three and a half hours later she was still in the office.  
She had straightened the books, filed their reports on 
Tooms and cleaned off her table.  All her email was 
answered.  In a few minutes, she would have to go home 
because there was quite literally nothing left for her to 
do.

Footsteps sounded in the hall.  Scully looked up, expecting 
Mulder.  Maybe he would want to grab coffee or something.

Ethan appeared in the doorway, and Scully leaned back in 
her seat.  "How did you get in here?"

"Bribed security."

"Ethan--"

"They've seen me pick you up.  I told them I was here to 
get you."

"I have my car, thank you."

"Dana," he said, entering the room.  "Please hear me out."  
He drew up a chair and sat down beside her.  "You were 
right to toss me from the car the other night.  I shouldn't 
have come.  I just was so afraid you weren't safe.  And 
then when I drove up and saw you were alone..."  He reached 
over and touched her knee.  "I panicked."

"This is my job, Ethan.  You can't keep worrying every time 
I step out the door."

"Yeah, I can."  He tapped her gently.  "I love you.  It 
would kill me if anything happened to you.  But you're 
right -- I need to keep better perspective.  I'm trying.  I 
promise."

"I got home and you were gone," Scully said.

"I'm here now."

She smiled and looked down at his hand on her knee.  
"Yeah, I guess you are."

"I've been doing a lot of thinking the past couple of 
days," he said, and slid to his knees on the floor.

Scully stared.  "Ethan, what are you doing?"

"I've been thinking, and I think your father was right.  
Sometimes you just know.  And I know I don't want to live 
without you."

"Ethan..."

He pulled out a ring and offered it to her.  "Dana Scully," 
he said, "will you marry me?"

~*~*~*~*~

End chapter ten.  Continued in chapter eleven.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

UNIVERSAL INVARIANTS

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Chapter Eleven: Go Fish

By syntax6

Sunday morning Scully awoke to the strong smell of black 
coffee.  She shifted towards the scent and found Ethan 
standing there with mug in hand.  "Morning," he offered, 
taking a seat near her hip.  "I thought you might like a 
fresh cup before I head out."

Scully made a humming noise and inched up against the 
pillows.  She accepted the hot mug and blew over the top.  
"Thanks.  Where are you off to so early?"

"Work.  Melinda and I have a piece on tonight." He smiled 
and stroked her leg through the blanket.  "I should be back 
before dinner."

"Mmm.  Dinner's at Mom's tonight.  I'm going over there 
later to help her with some of Dad's things."

"How's she doing?"

"Better," Scully said, because she hoped it was the truth.  
Getting her mother to talk about her feelings was never 
easy, and since Ahab's death she had been all business.  
Today they were packing up his clothes to give to charity.

"That's good.  I'll come by when I'm finished then."  He 
toyed with her fingers.  

Scully caught him looking at her naked ring finger.  
"Ethan..."

"Hmm?" he said, not meeting her gaze.

"I want to say thanks...again.  For being patient with me."

Ethan did not pretend to misunderstand.  He gave an 
accepting shrug.  "I didn't expect you to leap into my arms 
with joy.  Hoped, maybe.  But I didn't expect.  You're not 
exactly the impulsive type.  I know you like to think about 
decisions for a long time before you make them.  I figure 
this one shouldn't be any different, right?"

"Right."  She smiled at him.  "Still, thank you.  I know 
I'm not the easiest person to deal with when it comes to 
this stuff."

He leaned in and kissed her.  "Careful.  You're talking 
about the woman I'm going to marry."  He eased off the bed.  
"Call you later, okay?"

Scully waved good-bye and leaned back against the pillows, 
sipping her coffee and contemplating her empty hand.

~*~*~*~

Margaret Scully rose every morning at six, and apparently 
the day she was giving her husband's belongings away was no 
exception.  Scully arrived to find boxes already stacked 
two deep in Maggie's living room.
  
"Dana, hi."  Her mother wore a pink bandana and an 
oversized shirt, looking at least a decade younger than her 
fifty-five years.  "It's good to see you, dear.  Do you 
want coffee?  I have a fresh pot in the kitchen."

"No, thanks."  Scully surveyed the boxes.  "You've been 
awfully busy.  It looks like you don't even need my help."

"I can't carry all this to the Salvation Army myself."

Scully opened the nearest box.  "You're giving away Dad's 
bowling ball?" She hauled the case out of the box and 
unzipped it.  Inside sat Ahab's solid fourteen pounder, 
round and smooth as his head had been.  Scully stroked the 
marbled surface.

"Neither of your brothers wanted it."

"Yeah, but I can't believe you're giving it away.  Dad 
loved this ball.  He won that trophy in seventy-eight, 
remember?"

Her mother looked at her tenderly.  "If you would like the 
ball, it's yours, honey."

"I don't want it," Scully protested.

"Well, neither do I."  Her mother zipped the case on the 
ball and lifted it back into the box.

Scully watched as her mother folded the flaps over again.  
"You're not keeping anything?"

"Of course I am."  Her mother straightened up.  "I have all 
the photos we took -- hundreds of them.  His medals, of 
course.  I would never give those up.  Billy took his golf 
clubs and some of the clothes.  Don't you think it's better 
than these things go to someone who could use them rather 
than sit around in one of my closets?"

Scully cradled the box closest to her.  "I guess."

"Dana."  Her mother rubbed her arm.  "These things aren't 
your father.   They were your father's things.  He doesn't 
live in them anymore.  He only lives in here."  She touched 
Scully's chest, and Scully made an effort to smile.

"You're right.  Of course you're right."

"Your father gave me thirty-six years of marriage and four 
beautiful children.  That's all I need to remember him."  
She hugged Scully tight.

Scully sniffed as she pulled away.  "You should have had 
more."

"I wish so too, but that's not the way it worked out.  I 
just have to be thankful for the time I did get with him."  
She brushed her daughter's hair out of her eyes.

"Mom, how did you know Daddy would be a good husband?"

Her mother laughed.  "Oh, I didn't."

Scully looked up sharply.  "What do you mean?"

"Honey, I got lucky.  Your dad and I married when I was 
only nineteen years old.  What did I know about picking out 
a husband?  I could barely pick out an outfit."

"You must have known something."

"I knew he looked good in uniform."

"Mom.  I'm serious."

"Mmm, so am I."

Scully shook her head.  "Okay, then pretend you knew then 
what you know now.  What did Daddy do that told you he was 
the one?"

"Dana, I wish I could tell you.  Really, I think I just got 
lucky.  He seemed like a good man, and it turns out he 
was."

"So that's it?  Marry the first good man you can find?"

"They're not as easy to come by as you think."  Her mother 
touched her cheek.  "What's with all these questions about 
marriage?"

"Nothing," Scully said, pulling away.  "Just curious."

"I think..."  Her mother stopped and folded her arms.  "I 
think the best you can hope for is that you never run out 
of things to say to each other."

"Not never-ending romance?" Scully teased.

"Honey, after thirty years of marriage, if you're saying 
more than, 'Pass the salt' at the dinner table, that *is* 
romance."

~*~*~*~

Ethan arrived in time to help with dinner preparations.  
"Here, you can wash the lettuce," Scully told him as she 
put her slicing and dicing skills to work on a tomato.  

"Always say yes to a woman with a knife," Ethan said to 
Maggie.  He kissed Scully's head as he passed.

"Did you and Melinda finish the piece?" Scully asked.

"Yup.  It should be airing in--"  He checked his watch.  
"Five minutes."

"Then we should hold dinner until after it's on," Maggie 
said as she stuck the pot roast back in the oven.

"Oh, that's so not necessary.  It's just a quickie piece on 
the new tax bill.  Hardly worth interrupting this delicious 
dinner."

"I'd like to see it," Maggie replied, wiping her hands on a 
dish towel.

Scully and Ethan followed her into the living room.  While 
Maggie adjusted the channel, they took a seat on the couch.  
"I hate watching myself on TV," Ethan confessed.  "I look 
twenty pounds heavier and my hair is always sticking up in 
back."

"Oh, it does not."  Scully smoothed his hair.  "I think 
it's cute."

Ethan put a hand over his paunch.  "I should get back into 
running with you."

"Running -- isn't that how two you met?" Maggie turned with 
the remote in hand.

"Yup," Ethan said as he put an arm around Scully.  "When I 
tell people your daughter is a catch, I mean catch.  I'd 
watched her run by a dozen times and figured I'd better 
work at it if I had any chance to keep up with her."

"You did okay," Scully answered, looking sideways at him.

"That's because I put in two weeks of practice before I 
even attempted it.  Didn't want to try to introduce myself 
amid huffing and puffing."

"Look, it's your piece," Maggie said, shushing them.

"See?  It's totally sticking up in back," Ethan said.  
Scully hid a smile.

They watched him go over the details of the new proposed 
tax bill.  When he had finished, Maggie said, "I don't care 
how many of these bills they pass.  My taxes only go one 
way -- up!"

On the TV, the news switched to a breaking story about a 
police chase in Maryland.  The cops had shot the suspect 
just before he jumped into the harbor, but so far the 
police had not been able to recover a body.

"It'll turn up eventually," Ethan said, moving to rise from 
the couch.  

Maggie snapped off the TV.  "I'll get dinner on the table."

Scully's cell phone rang, and both Ethan and her mother 
turned to look at her.

"Do you have to answer that?" Ethan said with a sigh.

"Is something the matter?" Maggie asked.

"Only three people ever call that phone," Ethan told her.  
"And you and I are standing in the room with her."

Scully ignored him and went to her phone.  "Scully," she 
said.

"Scully, it's me.  Can you meet me at the office right 
away?  There's something I need you to look at."

Scully peeked over her shoulder.  "Can it wait?"

"Hey, if you're busy, forget about it.  I'll catch you up 
in the morning."

"No," she said quickly.  "I'll be there."

He hung up without saying goodbye.

~*~*~*~*~

"Mulder, you've been through this tape a hundred times. 
What exactly are you hoping to find?"

"I don't know."  Mulder printed out a still picture from 
the videotape of the crime scene.  As far as they knew, 
police had not yet recovered the body despite the narrow 
search area.  Mulder's "friend" Deep Throat thought this 
was of some significance."

"And all he told you to was to watch channel eight?"

"Yeah, that's all he said."

Scully's stomach growled.  All she'd had to eat was a few 
carrot sticks on her way out the door.  "Do we even know 
why the suspect was being chased?"

"As far as I can tell, he wouldn't pull over for a moving 
violation. There's got to be something here. Some detail. 
Something we're not seeing."

"How do you know he's not just yanking your chain, this 
Deep Throat character?"

"Why would he do that?"

"Well, he has lied to you by his own admission."

"I don't think he'd call if there wasn't something here... 
something I was supposed to see. Something he wants me to 
see."

~*~*~

Scully listened to Mulder's chatter on their way to view 
the suspect's car at the police impound.  "I think it's got 
to be related to the suspect, Scully.  Maybe he's wanted 
for something else, and that's why he ran."

"Could be."  She was looking out the window at the passing 
scenery.

"If we only had a name, we could run him through the 
system."

"Maybe he just stole the car and that's why he was 
running."

Mulder considered.  "I don't think Deep Throat would get us 
involved for a routine auto theft."

"You mean get you involved."

"Huh?"

"He only talks to you, Mulder.  I don't get midnight phone 
calls or notes slipped under my door."

Mulder grinned.  "What can I say, Scully?   He likes to 
rendezvous in the men's room."

Scully shook her head, amused.  Her cell phone rang.  She 
looked at the caller ID and switched the phone to "off."  

Mulder watched her with interest.  "Obscene phone call?"

"Ethan."

"Oh."  He drove in silence for a moment.  "Trouble on the 
home front?"

"No."  She smoothed her pants leg and debated whether to 
continue.  "He asked me to marry him."

The car swerved ever so slightly.  Mulder shifted in his 
seat as he righted them again.  "Uh, I don't see any big 
diamond ring..."

"I haven't said yes."

Awkward silence stretched between them.  "Hey, whatever 
makes you happy, right?" Mulder said finally.  "You can't 
chase mutants with me forever."

"I'm not talking about quitting my job, Mulder."

"No, of course not.  It's just--"

"Just what?" she prompted when he did not continue.

"Well, you know.  Marriage.  Babies.  Mutants.  Like the 
song goes, 'one of these things is not like the other...'"  
He turned into the impound lot and stopped the car.  "I 
think that's the car over there.  The silver one."

"Mulder," she said.

But he had already moved on.  The door slammed and she 
watched his black coat flare in the wind as he hurried 
over, always chasing the next big clue.

~*~*~*~

Mulder pulled his car up outside his building.  He scrubbed 
his face with his hands before getting out.  Twelve 
straight hours of chasing your tail, he told himself.

As he approached the walkway, a man appeared from out of 
the shadows.  Mulder recognized the shape immediately and 
kept on walking.

"Calling it a night, Mister Mulder?"

You think he does this stuff because he gets off on it? 
Mulder had asked Scully.

"No," she had said.  "I think he does it because you do."

Mulder jangled his keys and faced Deep Throat. "My mother 
usually likes me home before the street lights come on."

"I'm surprised at you. Your level of commitment seems to 
have diminished."

Mulder scoffed.  "My level of commitment?"

"I should have expected that you'd be working through the 
night trying to put the pieces together."

God, maybe Scully was right.  "Well, maybe if you'd given 
me something more to work with."

"Under the circumstances, I've given you all I can."

"A news report?"

"And where has it led you?"

"You know, from day one, this has always been on your 
terms. I've gone along. Been the dutiful son. But maybe 
this time, we can just cut out the Obi-Wan Kenobi crap and 
you can save me the trouble."

"I fear you've become too dependent on me."

"Let me tell you something. I've got plenty to do without 
chasing down your vague leads or trying to decode your 
circular logic. Maybe it's you who's become too dependent 
on me... on my willingness to play your games."  Mulder 
turned to walk away.

"Mister Mulder? Don't give up on this one. Trust me. You've 
never been closer."  Deep Throat, his maddening message 
complete, melted back into the shadows.

"Closer to what?" Mulder yelled after him, but his voice 
echoed back off the concrete, unanswered.

~*~*~*~*~

Whatever Doctor Berube was doing with his monkey pee, 
someone thought it was damning enough to have the good 
doctor commit suicide twice.  As Mulder had said, "There's 
kill, and then there's overkill."

So Scully took the would-be monkey pee for analysis while 
Mulder paid a visit to Berube's house.  She spent the night 
at the microbiology lab as Doctor Carpenter struggled to 
identify the mysterious substance labeled "Purity Control."

"Under any other circumstances, my first call would be to the 
government," Carpenter told her.  "It's a fifth and sixth DNA 
nucleotide. A new base pair. Agent Scully, what are you looking 
at... it exists nowhere in nature. It would have to be, by 
definition... extraterrestrial."

At dawn, Scully tried calling Mulder at home for the 
fiftieth time. Her knees went weak with relief when he 
finally answered.

"Mulder, where on God's earth have you been?  I've been 
trying to call you all night."

"I had a situation.  I left my phone in the car."

"Mulder... that bacteria I had analyzed... they're saying 
it doesn't exist in nature.  They're saying it could be 
extraterrestrial."

"Scully..."

"What?"

"How soon can you get here?  I've got something I want to 
show you."

Scully arrived at Mulder's door in under an hour.  She 
knocked softly.  "Mulder?"

Listening, she heard no sound from the inside.  After a 
moment of hesitation, Scully took out her key.  She opened 
the door slowly.  "Mulder?"

The only light in the apartment came from the brightening 
day outside the windows.  Scully tucked the key back in her 
pocket and took a few steps towards the quiet living room.

She stopped when she saw Mulder asleep on his couch, still 
wearing his suit and his shoes.  Scully covered her mouth 
with her fingers, hiding her smile.  Behind his head, his 
fish swished back and forth in their tank, anticipating 
breakfast.

Scully crossed the room and obliged them.  "Hi guys," she 
whispered as she dropped the food inside.  "Hungry this 
morning?"  She bent down and watched them gobble the 
flakes.

As she put the can of food back and turned, she spotted a 
small collection of framed photos.  She recognized his 
sister, this time missing the braids as she frolicked on a 
sandy beach.  Scully picked it up and smiled at it.  There 
was also a silver-framed photo of his mother -- a formal 
posed portrait taken in a studio.  Scully looked, but she 
did not see a picture that could be Mulder's dad.  
Grandparents, perhaps.  He had one that looked like it 
dated back to the 1930s.  

Scully went to replace the photo of Samantha and her hand 
brushed against an unframed picture lying flat on the 
bookcase.  She scooped it up. 

The photo was of her and Mulder bent over a crime scene.  
Scully recognized Doug Burhle's body sticking out of the 
tall grass.  She was saying something, and Mulder had 
leaned his head in close to hear.

He stirred on the couch, startling her, and Scully hurried 
to slip the photo back into place.

"Hey," she said, and he jerked his head around to see her.  
"I knocked but there was no answer."

"Sorry about that," he replied as he stretched.  "I was 
having this dream.  You were getting married on the Death 
Star and walking down the aisle to the Darth Vader music."

"And who was I marrying?  The evil Emperor?"

"No, Chewbacca."  He sat up and put his feet on the floor.

Scully tilted her head.  "Mulder, if I did get married, 
would you come to the wedding?"

"Depends."

"On what?"

"On whether the Yankees are playing that day."  He stood up 
and grabbed his keys from the coffee table.  "Come on, I 
want to show you what I found.  You're not going to believe 
it."

He took her to an area of town she had never been to 
before.  Buildings had worn down.  Graffiti decorated 
dilapidated fences.  Mulder turned down an alley marked 
"Pandora Street."

They parked and Mulder started toward a warehouse.  "Wait a 
second.  Mulder?"

He turned.

"I just want to say that I was wrong."

"It's all right.  Don't worry about it."  Mulder squinted 
at her, as though he couldn't quite make out her shape.

"No, um, if you had listened to me, we wouldn't be here 
right now.  I should know by now to trust your instincts."

"Why?  Nobody else does."

"You know, I've always held science as sacred.  I've always 
put my trust in the accepted facts.  And what I saw last 
night... for the first time in my life, I don't know what 
to believe."

"Well, whatever it is you do believe, Scully -- when you 
walk into that room?  Nothing sacred will hold."

He dug out the keys he had lifted from Berube's home and 
opened the door to the warehouse.  Scully followed him into 
the dim building.  The hall was quiet and the main 
storeroom was totally empty.  

Mulder paced the cement floor.  "There were tanks here and 
five bodies suspended in solution.  There were computers 
monitoring them.  They were alive, Scully, under water."

"What happened to them?"

"God only knows," said a voice from the darkness.  Scully 
recognized Mulder's cloak-and-dagger man, Deep Throat.  
"Most likely they've been destroyed."

Why didn't you stop them? Scully wanted to ask.  But she 
held her tongue.

"Destroyed by whom?" Mulder wanted to know.

"I don't know."

"I don't believe you," Mulder replied, and Scully gave him 
an inward cheer.

"There are limits to my knowledge," the man said.

Scully looked away.  Limits to his willingness to get his 
hands dirty was more like it.  He sent Mulder in to do the 
dirty work.  He put Mulder's life on the line.

"There were three men last night," Mulder was saying, as if 
to prove her point.  "I was chased."

"Hmm," Deep Throat said.  "If you were chased, you would 
have been killed."

Apparently Scully was the only one who had a problem with 
this.  Mulder and Deep Throat looked thoughtful, not 
alarmed.

"I didn't anticipate the speed and precision of the cleanup 
operation," Deep Throat said.  "Without the evidence, you 
two have no case.  You must find Doctor Secare before they 
do.  I'll have no further contact with you on this matter."

He disappeared the way he had come in, silent as a panther. 

"I'm going to find Doctor Secare," Mulder said.

"Where?" Scully asked.

"I don't know.  I'm going to trust my instincts."

~*~*~*~

In bed that night, Scully's instincts were saying "trouble." 
She reached for the phone again.  Mulder's line rang and 
rang with no answer.

Ethan sighed.  "Maybe he has a date."

"You don't understand."  Scully held the phone between her 
breasts.  "These are dangerous people, Ethan.  They've 
murdered twice now to cover their tracks."

"To cover what?"

"You know I can't say."

"But you're convinced Mulder's found something worth 
killing for."

"Two doctors are dead, Ethan!"

"A suicide and a car accident. That's what you said."

Scully got out of bed and started getting dressed. "I said 
that's what they wanted it to look like."

"Who is this they?  Do you even know?"

Scully ignored him and began lacing up her boots.

"Where are you going?"  Ethan asked.

"Mulder's."  She grabbed her keys and her gun.  "I want to 
make sure nothing has 'accidentally' happened to him."


Scully found she was not the only one concerned about 
Mulder.  Deep Throat appeared from the bushes as Scully 
started up Mulder's path.  "He's not home," he told her 
tersely.

"Where is he?  He's been gone all night."

"I wish I knew."

"Something's happened to him."  Scully's heart turned to 
lead as Deep Throat did not disagree.

"They won't kill him."

"How do you know that?"

"He's become too high-profile and you've got evidence that 
could expose them."

"I don't have any evidence.  They took the evidence and may 
have killed in order to get it."

"Listen to me.  Evidence still exists.  It might be 
difficult to obtain but with your medical background, I 
might be able to get you inside."

~*~

Deep Throat glided the car to a stop outside the high 
security containment center at Fort Marlene.  He handed her 
the badge that would get her inside.  "What you're looking 
for is on the top floor.  Cryology." 

Scully pinned the ID to her shirt and prepared to leave the 
car.  Deep Throat grabbed her arm.

"Be very careful, Miss Scully.  If they catch you, they 
will kill you."

Scully swallowed and opened the door.  Her legs felt like 
jelly but somehow she managed to walk across the parking 
lot to the front door.  She passed her security card 
through the reader and the doors slide noiselessly open in 
front of her.

Scully crossed the threshold and the heavy doors closed at 
her back.  She stood inside a sterile white tomb.  The only 
sign of life was a security guard sitting inside a tiny 
cubicle.

"Password?" he asked her.

Scully faltered.  Deep Throat had said nothing about a 
password.  

"Password?" the guard tried again, eyeing her with more 
suspicion.

Scully licked her lips.  "Purity control."

He let her inside.  Scully went straight to cryology, where 
she found the container marked "purity control."  She 
opened it as one might lift a coffin lid in a horror move.  
Swirls of fog from dry ice rose from the metal cylinder.

Scully came face-to-face with an alien fetus.

~*~*~*~

Scully waited in her car, feeling like an alien herself on 
the dark bridge at night.  Who was this woman who walked 
out of a government facility with stolen property under her 
arm?  Scully took a deep, steadying breath.  She grabbed 
the container from the seat next to her and exited her car.

"You're late," Deep Throat said as she approached.  "Did 
you get it?"

She showed it to him.

"Good.  They're willing to make the exchange."

"You spoke to them?"

"Yes.  I'll take the parcel."

"No, sir.  I'll make the exchange."

"I made the deal, Scully.  They're expecting me."

"I don't trust you."

"You've got no else to trust."

A van pulled up at the other end of the bridge.  Scully 
imagined Mulder inside, maybe hurt.  Maybe dying.  She gave 
up the package.

Scully went back to her car. Blood was rushing through her 
so fast it made her dizzy.  She clutched the wheel and 
watched Deep Throat approach the van.

A shot shattered the quiet night.

Scully jerked open her car door, already running before her 
feet touched the road.  "Mulder.  Mulder!"

A body rolled from the back of the van.  It roared away.  
Deep Throat lay dying in the street.

Scully checked Mulder first and found his pulse strong.  
She hurried to Deep Throat, but he had been shot dead 
center mass.  They had not wanted to make a mistake.

She lifted his head. 

"Trust.. no one," he told her, and was gone.

~*~*~*~*~

Mulder sat in the ER sporting chemical burns around his 
eyes.  Scully stood between his legs and gently examined 
the tender skin.

"I'd say it was an acid of some sort," she said.

"I couldn't see what was doing it," Mulder replied.  "It 
stung like a sonofabitch, though.  Either the chemical
was in the gun these guys had or--"

"Or what?"

"Or it was in Dr. Secare himself."

"At least your vision hasn't been affected."  She rested 
her hands on the tops of his thighs.  "You're very lucky, 
Mulder."

"Yeah.  Lucky.  Our best source is dead and they have the 
alien fetus back.  We have no evidence."

Scully bent her head.  "At least we have the luxury to keep 
on looking," she said quietly.

Mulder touched her wrist with one finger.  "Hey," he said, 
waiting for her to look at him.  "I don't mean to sound 
ungrateful.  What you did, Scully -- it's incredible."

"Come on," she answered, drawing back.  "I'll drive you 
home."

Mulder sat with his eyes closed on the long, silent drive 
back to his apartment.  Scully parked the car and unbuckled 
her seatbelt.

"No, you go on," Mulder told her.  "I'll be fine."

"At least let me walk you in."

He shook his head.  "You come in with me, and you'll never 
leave."  Scully opened her mouth to protest, but he kept 
talking.  "Go home, Scully.  I'm a big boy.  I can take 
care of myself."

"I know.  I just--"

"What?"

"I just want you to know you don't have to.  Not anymore."

He smiled, bruised skin crinkling around his eyes.  "Thanks 
for the lift.  Night, Scully."

"Night."

~*~*~*~

Scully awoke sharply, jolted from a dreamless sleep by 
something she could not name.  She sat up dazed, but the 
house was quiet and Ethan lay dead asleep beside her.  She 
checked the time -- eleven twenty-one -- and settled back 
down onto her pillow.

The phone rang.  She grabbed it before it could wake Ethan.  
"Hello?" she said, her voice rough from sleep.

"Hey, Scully it's me."

"Where are you?"

"They're shutting us down, Scully."

She shifted, paying attention now.  Her heart froze.  
"What?"

"They called me in tonight, and they said they're going to 
reassign us to other sections."

"Who said that?"

"Skinner.  He said word came down from the top of the 
executive branch."

"Mulder--" 

"It's over, Scully."

Robby Tinsbury had said almost the same thing when he broke 
up with her in ninth grade.  Mulder's voice held the same 
chilling finality.

"Well, you have to lodge a protest.  They can't..."

"Yes, they can."

Scully braced herself.  "What are you going to do?"

"I'm not going to give up.  I can't give up.  Not as long 
as the truth is out there."

Then he hung up on her.

I, he had said.  Not we.  Mulder was on his own again.  
Scully wondered what Blevins would say, if Blevins had even 
orchestrated the split.

Scully lay down again in a bed that suddenly seemed too 
large.  She shivered against her pillow.  Ethan stirred, an 
arm coming out to wrap around her.

"Was that the phone?"

"Yes."  She turned in his embrace, burying her face in his 
shoulder.  He sleepily rubbed her back.

"Who was it?"

"No one."

"Mmm."  She could feel him drifting back to sleep.

"Ethan?"

"Hmm?"

She held on tight, squeezing her eyes shut.  "I'll marry 
you."

~*~*~*~*~

End chapter eleven.  Continued in chapter twelve.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

UNIVERSAL INVARIANTS

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Chapter Twelve: Jungle Love

The one-year anniversary of Patty Waeleski's disappearance 
arrived without fanfare.  Her name had long ago disappeared 
from the papers and the minds of everyone not directly 
involved with the case. For most people it was just another 
routine Monday.

Scully wondered if anyone was still looking for Patty; if 
Mulder still walked the streets at night searching for 
clues.

She sat slumped in her chair as Ethan puttered around the 
kitchen.  He stuck a bagel with cream cheese on it in front 
of her, but Scully ignored it in favor of black coffee.  
Ethan sat next to her and stole back half the bagel, which 
he proceeded to bite into with a loud crunch.

"Let me guess," he said while chewing.  "New students 
today?"

"Maybe.  I confess I haven't even checked the schedule."

"You know, when I met you, you were all excited about the 
melding of young minds into future forensic pathologists.  
I thought you liked teaching."

"I did.  I do."  She sat up with a sigh.  "It's just..."

"What?"

"I like learning more."

He sipped his own coffee.  "That's what you were doing on 
the X-Files?  Learning?"

"Well, sure.  I hadn't done that sort of work before."

"Dana, *nobody* had ever done that sort of work before.  
With good reason."  He paused.  "At least teaching won't 
get you killed."

"Ethan," she said, taking on a tone of warning, "whatever 
happens, I'm not going to stay in that lab forever.  I 
didn't join the academy with a lifelong dream to show 
others how to cut up a dead body."

"I know, I know.  I'm just hoping for a slightly duller 
assignment next time.  Maybe something like organized 
crime."

Scully imagined herself performing autopsies on men wearing 
cement shoes.  "Pass, thanks."

Ethan crunched some more bagel.  "How's Mulder holding up?  
If you're moping, he must be haunting the basement like a 
ghost, nose pressed up against the old office window."

Scully felt more like the ghost in this situation.  Mulder 
passed her in the halls and did not even see her.  She 
found herself making up reasons why she had to go to the 
third floor, near the bullpen.  Sometimes she would see him 
at his desk, head bent low over whatever busywork they had 
supplied him for the day.  

Once she thought she had caught him looking at her.  Scully 
had waved, smiling.  But she looked like a fool with her 
hand stuck in the air when Mulder did not wave back.  

"It's just strange," she said aloud.  "You get used to 
working with someone every day and all of a sudden they 
split you up with no warning."

"Dana."  He covered her hand with his own.  "You're not 
responsible for Mulder anymore.  He got along fine before 
you met him and he'll do okay now.  You'll see." 

"Yeah, sure."

"Hey, did you tell him we're getting married yet?"

Scully looked reflexively at the ring on her finger.  
Mulder hadn't noticed her long enough to ask.

"We haven't had much chance to talk," she hedged.

Ethan smiled.  "Better tell him by September or he'll miss 
the ceremony."

~*~*~*~
Scully felt just a little crazy as she waited for Mulder in 
the garage of the Watergate Hotel.  His insistence on a 
smoke-and-mirrors display made her concerned for his 
sanity, but at the same time she got a secret rush from 
being included in the conspiracy.  That Mulder believed 
these precautions were necessary meant he still felt the 
work was important.
 
 That he was willing to meet with her meant he believed she 
was still important too.

At the last second, she slipped her engagement ring off 
inside her coat pocket.  That conversation could wait until 
later, until they weren't playing Spy-versus-Spy in a 
parking garage.

Scully's heart tripped over itself when she heard footsteps 
in the shadows.  She froze on a gasp, trying to make out 
the man's shape as he walked towards her.  Mulder's shoes 
came into view, then his legs.  Finally his face became 
visible in the dim light.

"Four dollars for the first hour of parking is criminal," 
he said.  "What you got better be worth at least forty-five 
minutes."

Scully relaxed in relief. "You know, Mulder, from... from 
back there, you look like him."

"Him?"

"Deep Throat," she said, chagrined at her confession.

"He's dead, Scully. I attended his funeral at Arlington 
through eight-power binoculars from a thousand yards away. 
Now, the picture frame was turned down, you wanted to talk. 
What have you found?"

"I wanted to talk but I haven't found anything."

A car engine started to life, headlights momentarily 
flooding the garage.  Mulder took a step closer to Scully.  
"It's dangerous for us just to have a little chat, Scully. 
We must assume we're being watched."

"Mulder, I haven't seen any indication..."

"No, no, of course not. These people are the best."

"I've taken all of the necessary precautions. I have 
doubled back over my tracks to make sure that I haven't 
been followed and no one has ever followed me. The X-Files 
have been terminated, Mulder. We have been reassigned. I 
mean, what makes you think they care about us anymore 
anyway?"

"So why have you bothered to come here covertly?"

"Because I realized that it was the only way that you would 
see me."

"So what do you want?"

"To know that you're all right."  He just stared at her so 
Scully continued. "Mulder, you passed me today within a 
foot, but you were miles away.  I know that you feel
frustrated that without the bureau's resources, it's 
impossible for you to continue... "

"No, it..."

"Well, what then? When the bureau first shut us down, you 
said that you would go on for as long as the truth was out 
there. But I no longer feel that from you."

"Have you ever been to San Diego?" he asked.

"Yes." 

"Did you check out the Palomar observatory?" Scully shook 
her head.  Mulder went on: "From 1948 until recently, it 
was the largest telescope in the world. The idea and design 
came from a brilliant and wealthy astronomer named George 
Ellery Hale. Actually, the idea was presented to Hale one 
night. While he was playing billiards, an elf climbed in 
his window and told him to get money from the Rockefeller 
Foundation for a telescope."

"And you're worried that all your life, you've been seeing 
elves?"

Mulder slumped against the wall, crouching down near the 
pavement.  "In my case, little green men."

Scully knelt with him.  "But, Mulder... during your time 
with the X-Files, you've seen so much."

"That's just the point. Seeing is not enough, I should have 
something to hold onto. Some solid evidence. I learned that 
from you."

They looked at each other in silence for a moment.  "Your 
sister's abduction, you've held onto that."

"I'm beginning to wonder if... if that ever even happened."

"Mulder, even if George Hale only saw elves in his mind, 
the telescope still got built. Don't give up. And next 
time..."  She stood up and touched his head, ruffling his 
soft hair. "We meet out in the open."

~*~*~*~

Next time, as it turned out, they didn't meet at all.  
Mulder disappeared without a word to her.  She would not 
have even known he was gone if Skinner hadn't called her 
into ask about Mulder's whereabouts.

At first she was hurt.  Mulder had deliberately left her 
out of the chase.  It seemed she was dispensable after all.

Then she grew worried.  Maybe he had not had time to leave 
her a message because he was in trouble.

You're not responsible anymore, Ethan had said.

Scully pulled Mulder's apartment key out of her purse and 
turned it over in her hand.  He hadn't asked for it back.  

Scully decided the least she could do was go feed the fish.

She opened his apartment door cautiously.  All the lights 
were off.  Inside the rooms smelled like him, of leather 
and summer heat.  She felt the heavy silence drawing her in 
deeper. 

Her ears burned hot. Her breathing quickened.  She was ten 
years old again, sneaking into her parents' bedroom to find 
out what secrets they held in dresser drawers.

No sign of struggle, she noticed with a tinge of relief.  
Mulder's dress shoes sat by the coffee table.  His suitcoat 
lay draped over one end of the sofa.  

Scully noticed a can of soda sitting by the computer, half 
full.  He hadn't bothered to finish it.  Scully switched on 
the machine.

~*~*~*~

Growing up, Samantha had owned a tin box toy called the 
Easy Bake Oven.  Mulder felt like someone had popped him 
inside.  Instead of a lone light bulb to cook his insides, 
he had the Puerto Rican sun banking him alive.

The temperature in the tiny satellite control room had to 
be hovering at the century mark.  Mulder downed bottle 
after bottle of water only to have it immediately evaporate 
off his skin.  Sweat matted his hair to his head.  His 
eyeballs felt fried.

The toilet didn't work, so Mulder ventured out into the 
jungle every time he had to take a piss.  Giant leafy 
plants seemed ready to devour him, slapping at his arms and 
face while the mosquitoes honed in for a feast.

His lone companion lay dead on the table.

Night fell.  Mulder forced himself to stay in the room with 
the body.  With the walls closing in, the screeching sounds 
from outside, Mulder felt a creeping sense of paranoia.  

He was next.  They had sent him here to die.  

With shaking fingers, he grabbed his tape recorder. "The 
day is... the time is 10:30. Although not a qualified 
pathologist, I will record my observations of the body in 
case at some future time, decomposition should obscure 
forensic evidence."

Mulder circled Jorge's body.

"The subject, perhaps victim... is Hispanic male, 
undetermined age. There are no overt external injuries 
apparent. There are no indications of any lightning 
strikes. No singeing of the hair or burns of any kind."

"The subject was discovered in sitting position. Rigor 
mortis having set in, a little less than half an hour had 
elapsed. The skin is strikingly affected by goose flesh. 
The body shows signs of intense cadaveric spasm. The 
expression reflects..."

Mulder leaned in for a closer look at the man's face.  "My 
God, Scully. It's as if he's been frightened to death."
Mulder crossed to the reams of paper spit out from the 
machine.  Jargon and jibberish, or proof of something more?

 "The print-outs received in the transmission indicate 
contact with another lifeform and yet I cannot see them. 
Even if I could see them, would they really be there? How 
do I know this isn't some classified military satellite? 
These transmissions are from the Voyager, for God's sake. 
Could extraterrestrials really have intercepted them? Or is 
this just some elaborate joke played on those who want to 
believe?"

Mulder tossed aside the printout in anger.  "I was sent 
here by one of those people. Deep Throat said 'Trust no 
one.' And that's hard, Scully... suspecting everyone, 
everything. It wears you down. You even begin to doubt what 
you know is the truth."

Outside, everything became eerily quiet.  Mulder cocked his 
head, listening.  He glanced over at Jorge, who had not 
moved.  All of a sudden the walls started shaking.  The 
machines blinked on and off, some falling to the ground 
with a loud crash.

Mulder raced to stand near the body.

White light poured in through the windows, nearly blinding 
him.  On the tape, the machine taunted him with his own 
words: "Deep... Throat... said... "Trust... no... one..." 
Deep... Throat... said... "Trust... no... one..." 
The door flew open and wind forced Mulder back against the 
wall.

He held his breath and awaited the truth.

~*~*~*~

Scully took her ring off again on the plane to Puerto Rico.  
The sun streaming in through the oval window caught the 
diamond, making it wink at her with a mocking, laser-beam 
twinkle.  Engaged couples traditionally left each other 
love notes.  Instead, Scully had taped a hurried scrawl to 
the refrigerator that gave little explanation as to where 
she was going or why.

With NSA agents on her tail, she could not risk telling 
Ethan about her jaunt to Arecibo.  "Dear E.," she had 
written, "Work emergency has taken me out of town for a few 
days.  Will call as soon as I can."

But the dirty truth, the part she could barely admit to 
herself, was that she did not know it was an emergency.  
Mulder could be sunning himself on a sandy beach for all 
she knew.  And yet here she was, grasping at any excuse to 
chase after him again.

The plane touched down in early morning, sun lazing low in 
the sky like a sleeping tiger.  Already the air had 
dimension, fat with humidity and punch-drunk on leafy 
vegetation.  Scully rented a car and used her broken 
Spanish to ascertain directions to Arecibo.

"No one goes to that place anymore," said the brown-skinned 
old man working the counter at the airport.  "The soldiers 
shut it down a long time ago."

Which, Scully supposed, was just like hanging welcome sign 
out for Mulder.

The men who built the Arecibo site must have wanted to get 
as close to the sky as possible.  Scully coaxed her car 
along the dirt road up the side of the steep hill.  The 
farther she climbed, the thicker the trees became.  
Branches slapped and cracked off against the sides of her 
car.

At last she reached the top and found the shack that 
appeared to be the main control room.  Scully got out, 
pausing to look around at the barbed fences now overrun 
with vines.  She saw no sign of Mulder.

Sweat trickled down the back of her neck as she stepped 
through the tall grass towards the door.  Humidity had 
sealed it tight as a tomb.  Scully leaned her full weight, 
shoving until it burst open and threw her into the room.  

She recoiled at the smell of death.  Heat radiated back at 
her.  Everywhere, she saw electrical equipment littering 
the ground.

"Mulder?" she called, venturing deeper.  She fought the 
urge to cover her nose and mouth with her arm.  "Mulder are 
you here?"

She gasped when her foot hit a body half-hidden by reams of 
paper.

"Mulder!"  She spotted him on the floor at the back.  His 
neck was bent at a funny angle and she feared instantly 
that he was dead.  Scully made her way over to him.
  
"Mulder," she said, kneeling by his body.  His shirt was 
soaked in sweat.

She turned her flashlight on and shone it in his face.  His 
eyes opened.

"Mulder," Scully said again, weak with relief.  "I was sure 
you were dead."  Mulder said nothing, blinking slowly at 
her.  " Mulder? It's Scully. Dana Scully. Do you know where 
you are?"

She helped him sit up. "They came, Scully... the ones that 
took her. They were here."

He rested heavy hands on her shoulders, and a chill went 
through her despite the heat.  "Here?" 

Mulder crossed to the worn-looking tape recorder.  "On the 
tapes... the tape. Evidence. Proof.  And the transmissions, 
it's all here."

"Proof of what?"

"Contact. And these print-outs... it's here. And the man... 
We'll have to examine the body. There'll be more proof."

In the distance, Scully heard a rumbling. Her heart sped 
up.  "Is that them?"

Mulder listened and then shook his head.  "No, this isn't 
it."  He grabbed his binoculars and went to the window.  
"It's the Blue Berets Crash Retrieval Team. They'll kill 
us. Help me with the body."

"We don't have time," Scully said as the approaching vans 
grew louder.

Mulder struggled with the dead man.  "Help me!"

"Mulder, we're never going to be able to get the body out 
of the country!"  She grabbed his arm.  "We have to go. 
Evidence is worthless if you're dead!"

His bicep rippled under her hand as he fought her words.  
She felt him relent and started running for the door.  
Mulder grabbed her keys and took the wheel just as the army 
vans rolled to a stop across the grass.

"Hurry!" Scully urged.

Men with large guns poured out of the truck.  Mulder 
brought the engine to life and roared down the hill.  The 
tape he had taken from the control room bounced around at 
her feet as Scully clutched the door handle.

Bullets ricocheted off the back of the car.

"Hope you got the extra insurance," Mulder told her through 
gritted teeth.  He turned the wheel sharply.  Gravel spit 
up against the car window as they hurtled down the hill.

Scully risked a glance over her shoulder.  "I think we lost 
them."

"We lost most of the evidence," Mulder shot back.  "That's 
all they care about."

Scully scooped up the tape.  "Not everything."

Mulder eyed it.  "We need to find someplace to think, 
somewhere we can lie low until they call off the dogs.  You 
have cash on you?"

"Of course."  She watched him, his eyes intent on the road 
in front of him.  So focused Mulder often was on the 
nearest goal that he sometimes lost sight of the big 
picture.  "Mulder, they're looking for you back home.  The 
NSA had agents searching your apartment."

He looked surprised.  "What does the NSA want with me?"

"I didn't stop to ask."  She gave him a brief synopsis of 
her cat and mouse game with the agents at the airport.
Mulder grinned at her.  "Not bad, Scully.  That's some 
impressive detective work.  You know, we could use somebody 
like you at the FBI."

"I tried that.  Turns out I spent all my time chasing after 
my pain-in-the-ass partner."

Mulder sobered.  Keeping his gaze on the bumpy road, he 
groped blindly at her with one hand.  He squeezed when he 
connected with her knee.  "Thanks," he said.

~*~*~*~*~

They found a pair of cheap, out-of-the-way bungalows to 
rent for the night.  The senora who gave them the keys also 
directed them down the street for food, where Mulder picked 
up a pair of burritos and cokes.

He made it back just before the late afternoon storm.  Rain 
fell in sheets from the sky, splattering against the wide 
tropical leaves outside Mulder's open window.  Scully sat 
on the wide stone ledge inside the room, enjoying the 
cooler air even as the humidity curled the ends of her 
hair.

Mulder lounged on the bed, licking his fingers between 
bites of beef burrito.  "I can't remember when I ate last," 
he said.  "Maybe that's why this tastes so good."  He wore 
only jeans, having stripped off his ratty T-shirt and 
removed his socks and shoes.

"No, it's really good."  Of course, she hadn't eaten much 
in two days either.

"I was thinking we should take separate flights back."

"Why?  They're hardly going to wonder where we're going."

"They will if we split up.  Besides, it will give us a 
better sense of who's following us."

"They're good, Mulder.  The ones after me were undercover.  
They care enough about this to at least attempt some 
subtlety."

"There was nothing subtle about the men who chased us 
today."

Scully shivered, remembering the bullets whizzing past 
their car.  She looked out at the rushing rain.  "Look at 
it come down.  You don't see rain like this back home."

"Like they gutted a rain cloud with a hunting knife," 
Mulder agreed.

Scully turned with a smile.  "Lovely image.  Thank you."

"Hey, that's an ugly rain.  It'll wash you into the sea if 
given half a chance.  Look at the way it pounds everything 
into the ground."

Scully watched the rain for another moment and had to 
agree.  "I may have to row back to my bungalow," she said, 
turning around again.  She stopped when she saw Mulder 
sitting up with his feet on the floor.  He was holding the 
back of his head.  "Mulder, are you okay?"

Scully slid off her perch and went to check him out.

"Yeah, I just sat up too fast."

"Are you sure?" She touched the lump at the back of his 
head with gentle fingers.  "That's quite a bump you have 
there."

"It's not that bad."

"Mulder, you were unconscious when I found you.  Here, lie 
back."

Mulder reluctantly stretched out on the bed.

"Are you hurt anywhere else?"  Scully touched his shoulders 
and then his ribs. 

Mulder cleared his throat.  "No."

"Here, follow my finger but don't move your head."  She 
moved her index finger back and forth in front of him, 
feeling better as his eyes tracked every move.  "Dizziness?  
Nausea?"

"No.  Really, I'm fine."

"What's that?"

"What?" He touched the side of his neck where she was 
looking.  "It's a scratch."

Scully leaned over him for a better view.  "Okay, I guess 
you're right.  It doesn't look too deep."

"Scully."  His voice rumbled near her ear.

She turned her head.  "Hmm?"

"It's okay.  I'm all right."

They were almost nose-to-nose.  Scully had braced herself 
on each arm, nearly straddling him.  The sound of rain 
filled the room as they stared at one another.

Scully's gaze drifted to his full mouth, all pink and wet.  
Just another fraction and she could taste him.  Just a 
little closer.  Just a small taste...

She could feel herself leaning down.  Her eyes drifted 
closed.  She felt the heat of him, smelled the salt of his 
skin.

They kissed.

Nothing tentative about it; Scully sunk into the kiss, 
covering his mouth even as he opened under her.  She tilted 
her head, noses touching.  Her tongue rubbed purposefully 
against his lower lip until he moaned.

The vibration passed through all the way to Scully's toes.  
She kissed him deeper, pressing him into the pillow.  Still 
she hovered over him, not touching anywhere but their 
mouths.  Mulder's hands came up and rested on her ribcage.  
He caressed her lightly through her T-shirt.

You should stop now.  It's not too late to stop, Scully 
told herself.
  
But it was monsoon love as Scully felt herself splitting 
open like the sky, rain roaring in her ears she tried to 
eat Mulder's mouth right off his face. He gripped her waist 
and pulled her down hard against him.  Her fingers splayed 
apart on his pillow; her breasts rubbed against his chest.

His thigh, strong like the jungle trees, worked between her 
legs.  Everywhere she touched he was hard, muscles pulled 
taut under supple skin, rough denim covering the ridge in 
his pants.  Scully pressed down on him, her face going up 
in flame as his erection rode between her thighs.

She was wild, feral -- desperate for him to pierce her and 
pop the tension building inside. His hips bucked under her, 
trying to answer her.  Scully held his face with both hands 
so she could show him with her tongue what she needed.

Mulder moaned and rolled her under him.  He arched his 
torso back, biceps flexing as he pinned her under his 
considerable weight.  His eyes bored into hers as he 
started a hard roll with his hips, pressing her deeper and 
deeper into the mattress.

Scully spread her legs and held onto his arms, stroking 
over the rough skin of his elbows as Mulder attempted to 
fuck her with their pants on.  She turned her head away, 
brain beginning to grow fuzzy.  The rain splashed outside.  
Mulder panted above her like a tiger in heat.

Her toes curled against the bed.  She bit her lip.  So 
close.  Almost.

"Ah," she said, face scrunching in frustration.
Her hands clawed at the front of his jeans.

"Yeah, yeah," Mulder encouraged, breath hot on her cheek.  
He nipped her chin as she struggled to part the button on 
his pants.  The fact that he was still thrusting his hips 
at her made it difficult.

She held back a sob as his pants came free.  "Mulder..."

He wriggled out of them and his boxers, leaving her cool 
and breathless on the bed.  Only when he collapsed on top 
of her again, the head of his penis riding high on her 
thigh, did Scully realize they'd accomplished only half the 
battle.

Mulder didn't seem to notice.  He was kissing her deep and 
hungry, his hands having worked under her shirt to tease 
both stiff nipples through her bra.  Her cloth shorts rode 
up between her legs with the friction, forming almost 
painful crease.

She broke the kiss and leaned her hot forehead against his.  
"I need... I need..."

He yanked her shorts and underwear down in one smooth 
motion.  Scully welcomed him back with a hard squeeze 
between her naked knees.  She shuddered as the length of 
his erection poked hot against her.

"Mulder," she said again, running her hands through his 
hair over and over.  It passed like wet silk between her 
fingers.

His stubble reddened her skin as he kissed her neck, her 
ear.  His clever fingers stole between her legs and Scully 
stiffened, levitating off the bed.  

The sticky skin of their bellies met and parted as Mulder 
worked himself into place. Scully held her breath as she 
felt the tip of his penis slip inside.  Mulder's breathing 
became shallow, labored.

They both looked down to watch him enter her.

Scully leaned her head back into the pillow.  She felt him 
filling her, going deeper.  His jagged breaths tickled the 
side of her face.  Time stretched out.  Neither said a word 
as he penetrated her this first time. She heard herself 
whimper, brow wrinkling in near agony as Mulder could push 
no further.

Slowly, he began to move, giving her several delicious 
inches.

Scully lifted her hips, seeking more, and Mulder picked up 
the pace.  She stroked the slick, smooth heat of his back.  
She kissed the prickly skin on his jaw.

Mulder sucked in tight, hot breaths and gave her even more.  
Scully screwed her eyes closed, reaching back to wrap her 
hands around the wooden bars of the headboard.  Mulder 
worked faster and deeper, shoving her up against the 
pillows with the force of his thrusts.

She wrapped her legs around his middle.  She gritted her 
teeth and arched her head back.  It was too much.  
Pinpricks of light burst behind her eyes.  She felt herself 
stiffening, every muscle bracing for the terrible 
onslaught.

"No, no," she said, tossing her head to the side.

"Yes," Mulder ground out.

He fucked her harder, dragging her with him to the edge.  
Scully gasped in one last gulp of air before orgasm hit 
like lightning.  Her mouth froze open; her body shook and 
shook.  She gripped the bedrails as tight as she could.

"Scully," Mulder said, and she answered with a wail.

His hips slipped from their rhythm, his ass clenching. 
Scully felt him heaving as he rode the same wave.

Shaking and spent, she lay paralyzed under him and could 
not open her eyes.  The room spun crazily around her.  What 
have we done? she wondered.

Mulder's weight slackened on her.  She could feel him 
studying her face and forced herself to meet his gaze.  She 
lay there, split open and wide-eyed while he searched her 
face.  Hair stuck to her temples.  Tears streaked her 
cheeks.

Mulder just stared at her for a minute before leaning down 
to touch his lips to hers.  Gently, tenderly, his tongue 
soothed the bruised spot her teeth had created during their 
frenzied mating.

Scully kissed him back.  After a moment, he pulled away and 
rested their cheeks together.  Scully let go of the wooden 
bars, aching muscles protesting each tiny movement.

She wound her arms around his neck and held on tight.

~*~*~*~

In the morning, they drove to the airport in silence.  
Mulder kept glancing in the rearview mirror to see if they 
were being followed, but he did not look over her way.

Scully knew it was up to her to say something.  She was the 
one with the fiancé at home.  But so far all she could come 
up with was, "What the hell was that?"

She remained quiet, scared to leave this place and scared 
to stay.  Mulder steered them confidently over the bumpy, 
muddy road.  The passing palm branches waved at her, 
bending under the heavy summer air.  Scully tilted her face 
to the breeze.

"We just have to get home," Mulder said, breaking the 
silence.

"Right.  Home."

As they reached the main road, Scully saw a plane taking 
off in the distance.  They would reach the airport soon, 
board a flight and go back to their opposite sides of the 
city.  She closed her eyes and took a deep breath of the 
salty wind.

"I'll buy us the tickets," said Mulder as they approached.

Scully turned to him.  "We're going separately.  Remember?"

His blank look said he hadn't.  "Yeah, of course.  I'll 
just meet you back there then." He gave an uneasy glance 
behind them.

Scully didn't have to look.  She knew this place would be 
following her for a long time to come.

~*~*~*~

Evening shadows stretched like long, lazy black cats by the 
time Scully arrived home.  She grew weak-kneed and dizzy as 
she reached her front door.  Ethan would take one look at 
her and know.  Her hair frizzed at all angles; she wore a 
permanent flush.  She could still smell Puerto Rico on her 
skin.

She cracked the door and hesitated just a minute before 
setting her bag on the other side.  The living room was 
quiet.

Relieved, Scully went to the kitchen for a bottle of water.  
As she cracked it open, she heard the TV playing softly in 
the bedroom.  She took the water and walked down the hall, 
pushing open the bedroom door with the flat of one hand.

Ethan lay in bed, looking wan.  His eyes were closed.

Scully tiptoed in for a better look and he roused to give 
her a half-smile.  "Hey, you're back."

"I'm back," Scully said, too brightly.  "But I have to say 
you don't look so good."

He shook his head.  "Flu or something.  I've been lying 
here all day.  Did you have a good time?" he asked as she 
came around to feel his forehead.

"It was work," she said.  "You have a fever."

"Mmmm, yeah, probably."  His eyes drifted shut.  "Glad 
you're back," he said, giving her arm a clumsy pat.  "Gonna 
sleep now, okay?"

Scully left the room in search of a cold compress for his 
head.  She pulled one out of her freezer and reached into 
her jacket pocket for a handkerchief to wrap it in.  The 
cloth came out in one jerk, sending her engagement ring to 
the floor with a tinkling clatter.

Scully snatched it up.  She rocked it back and forth 
between her thumb and one finger before setting it gently 
on the kitchen counter.

Compress in hand, she went back to Ethan in the bedroom.

~*~*~*~

Two days later, Scully found Mulder in the tape room.  She 
stepped barely inside, her back plastered to the door.  

The small windowless room left little area to maneuver.  
"Hi," Scully said, swallowing with difficulty.  The last 
time she and Mulder had been alone together in a private, 
confined space, they had both ended up naked.

Mulder looked up.  "You're not going to believe this, 
Scully."

"What?" She took the seat next to him.  

Mulder had cued up the tape he'd taken from Arecibo.  He 
hit play and the tape curled around, but all Scully heard 
was a faint hissing noise.

"It should be right here," he said, sounding frustrated.

He gave the rewind button a forceful punch.  But a replay 
of the tape produced nothing new.

"The entire tape is blank," Mulder said. He removed it from 
the player. 

"You know," said Scully, "an electrical surge in the outlet 
the storm may have degaussed everything, erasing the entire 
tape."

Mulder did not reply.  He stood up and started putting the 
tape away.

Scully looked at her lap.  He had nearly died, and for 
what?  "You still have nothing," she said with sympathy. 

Mulder busied himself with the recorder.  "I may not have 
the X-Files, Scully, but I still have my work."

Scully waited.  He did not look at her.

"And I've still got you."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

End chapter twelve.  Continued in chapter thirteen.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

UNIVERSAL INVARIANTS

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Chapter Thirteen: Deny Everything

By syntax6


For several years now, Mulder had looked on his sex drive 
as something of a nuisance.  He had locked himself in the 
basement and stacked file folders six feet deep around his 
desk.  He dreamed of space ships and mutant-faced men, of 
what he would say to Samantha when he finally found her 
again.  Only when his body boiled up inside, lust keening 
in him like a teakettle, did Mulder pop in a video and give 
into quick release.

A fast resetting of his biological clock, and he could 
focus his attention on what really mattered.

Mulder stared at the TV now, at the nude bodies writhing in 
such a way that defied several laws of physics.  He saw 
past it, images blurring, and finally gave up.

He shed his unzipped jeans and pulled on a pair of running 
shorts.  Sex with Scully was good for his physical health.  
Since coming back from Arecibo, Mulder spent half his time 
running and the other half in the pool -- heating up and 
cooling down.

Mulder's legs took him on the familiar route, feet hitting 
the pavement in a reassuring regular rhythm.  His chest 
tightened with each quick breath.  His calves started to 
burn.  Mulder ran himself right out of town.

The trees thickened, pines in full summer bloom.  The 
electric buzz of insects set the night humming.  Mulder 
heard only the wind in his ears and the breath from his 
lungs.

He smelled him before he saw him.

Streetlights lit the curl of smoke on the path ahead.  
Mulder drew up short, wiping the sweat from his brow.  He 
bent at the waist and waited for the Shadow man to come out 
of the trees.

"Good evening, Agent Mulder."  The Smoking man never 
changed dress for the weather.  Mulder expected he slept in 
his long overcoat and shiny black shoes.  The man dropped 
his butt on the edge of the path, where it smoldered in the 
damp grass.

"It's Saturday night," Mulder said.  "Don't tell me you 
don't have a date."

The man chuckled and lit up a fresh smoke.  "Shall we 
dance?"

"Go to hell."  Mulder started to jog by him but stopped 
when the old man made a "tut-tut" noise around the 
cigarette.

"You've been a busy boy, Mulder.  Hunting fluke worms in 
the NY sewers.  Chasing electronic mind control in 
Pennsylvannia."  He paused. "And of course, there's 
Arecibo."

"What do you know about Arecibo?" Still breathing hard, 
Mulder took a step towards the smoking man.

"I know you were fortunate enough to escape before you were 
found with a dead body.  Might have been a tough thing to 
explain to the Puerto Rican government, hmmm?  Good thing 
that Agent Scully showed up when she did."

Fear prickled over his sweaty skin.  "Leave Scully out of 
it."

"I wish I could.  I tried to.  But it seems you won't leave 
her -- or the X-files -- alone.  Really, I thought we had 
been quite clear on this point, Agent Mulder."

"You can take away the files.  You can't hide the truth."

"There is no truth."  He took a long puff.  "But there are 
consequences."

"Such as?"

The smoker dropped his second butt and made a show of 
crushing this one out on the pavement.  "Stay away from 
Scully.  Stay away from the X-Files."

~*~*~*~*~*~

Mulder had a new partner.

His name was Alex Krycek, and he had a fastidiousness about 
him that made Scully nervous.  He "yes, ma'amed" and "no, 
sirred" everyone, lingering in Mulder's shadow with his 
pressed suit and slicked-back hair.

Scully knew it was wrong to hate him because he was 
Mulder's partner, so she found other reasons.

At night, she dreamed she was back in the jungle, where the 
smell of the earth rose up into the hot air. She heard the 
sound of the rain hitting the wide green leaves and felt 
Mulder's body surging into hers.

Scully woke on a gasp, her fingers clenching the damp sheet 
surrounding her.  She sunk back into the pillow as the 
pounding subsided in her chest.  Mulder's taste, his mouth 
on her neck, his naked belly rubbing against hers -- all of 
it kept coming back.

Scully swallowed several deep breaths and squeezed back hot 
tears of shame.  Beside her, Ethan had the blankets pulled 
up to his shoulder despite the warm night.  He had been so 
sick with the flu, he hadn't even noticed her missing 
engagement ring.  She still was not sure what she would say 
to him when he did.

Curled in on herself, Scully watched Ethan sleep and bit 
back the agony inside.  She had always prized honesty, 
fidelity -- and here she was involved in a second adulterous 
relationship.  Scully swiped at the sliding tears.

Mulder wasn't going to marry her.  Not now, probably not 
ever.  She would have a better shot at keeping his 
attention if she had ESP, scales, or a mutant third eye. 
Maybe, she thought, if I were abducted by aliens.

Scully slid out of bed and went to the phone in the living 
room.  She grabbed the chenille throw from the back of the 
couch as Mulder's line rang through.  "Mulder," he said, 
sounding totally awake.

"Mulder, it's me."

"Hey, Scully.  It's after two.  What are you doing up?"

"Couldn't sleep."  She twirled the fringe on the throw.  "I 
had a dream.  A dream about Puerto Rico."

"Scully..."  She waited for him to continue.  Silence 
stretched on the line.  "We can't talk about this on the 
phone," Mulder said finally.

"Then when?  You want to have this conversation in an 
underground parking lot too?"

She heard the leather squeak as he shifted on the couch.  
"I don't know. Maybe we shouldn't have it at all."

"What?"

"This is a dangerous time for us, Scully."

"Mulder, we're not even working on the X-Files anymore."

"That doesn't mean we're not being watched."

The hair on Scully's neck stood up.  "What do you mean, 
watched?"

"Just because we don't have the X-files doesn't mean 
they're not still out to shut me down."

"What more can they do?  Mulder, you--you said they sent me 
to spy on you, which was never true.  Then you said they 
wanted to split us up.  Then they took the files, and now 
you think they still care what we do?  I baby sit bodies at 
Quantico and you're on wiretap duty.  I think maybe you're 
being a little paranoid here."

"You know what they say.  You can never be too rich or too 
paranoid."

~*~*~*~*~

Mulder bounced a basketball around his apartment on Sunday 
until his neighbors started pounding on their ceiling.  He 
put the ball aside and wiped his forehead with the bottom 
of his T-shirt.  Palming the phone, he hit "memory 2" and 
listened to the ringing on the other end.

"Lone Gunmen," said Byers.

"Byers," Mulder answered, relieved.  "Good.  Listen, can 
you meet me somewhere?"

"Sure, we can meet you anywhere.  Just name the location."

"No, just you.  Is that okay?"

"Of course, Mulder," replied Byers without missing a beat.  
"Where and when would you like to meet?"

"The basketball courts on Raymond and Jefferson? Say an 
hour?"

Byers paused.  "I don't play basketball."

"I know that.  Just meet me, okay?  Don't worry about the 
ball."

An hour later, Byers showed up on the court wearing his 
customary suit paired with white tennis shoes.  "You could 
have at least skipped the tie," Mulder said as he took a 
free-throw shot from the foul line.

"You promised we wouldn't be playing," replied Byers 
defensively.

Mulder motioned him over to the bench.  They sat in the 
shade and Mulder took a deep swig from his water bottle.  
He had invited Byers out with the intention of discussing 
the Scully situation, but now that they were together the 
conversation melted inside his head like a Dali painting.

"What is it?" Byers asked.  "Did you get anything off the 
tape from Arecibo?"

"No, nothing. Listen, I just wanted to ask you..."

"Yes?" Byers's mouth set in a thin line of concern.

"Say there's this... cookie."

"Excuse me?"

"Yeah, a cookie.  This guy who doesn't like you all of a 
sudden gives you this cookie.  You think it might be 
poisoned, that he might be trying to trick you."

"I wouldn't eat the cookie.  I'd throw it away."

"No, you don't throw it away.  You keep it with you.  Every 
time you pass it, it looks a little better.  You start 
thinking it might not be poisoned after all."

"Is it a frosted cookie?"

Mulder looked at him.  "Why?"

"I like frosted cookies best."

"Okay, yes.  Say it's a frosted cookie."

"If it's a frosted cookie, I say eat it.  But they go stale 
after a few days.  Even if it weren't poisoned, maybe you 
wouldn't want to eat it after all."

"It's not stale.  It's still perfectly edible."

"But you said it had been sitting there--"

"It's magic, okay?  It's a magic cookie that doesn't ever 
go stale."  Annoyed, Mulder continued.  "Anyway, after a 
while you're pretty sure the cookie's not poisoned.  You 
start thinking you need to eat it.  One day you give in and 
take a bite."

"And was it poisoned?"

"No," Mulder said softly.  He shook his head.  "No, it's 
just as good as you thought it would be.  Better, even. But 
there's a problem.  The guy who sent you this cookie, he 
was waiting for you to take the bait.  He thinks he has you 
now.  He's uncovered your... cookie weakness."

"I see."

"And it's worse because it turns out the cookie doesn't 
even belong to you.  It belongs to some other guy."

"Oh."  Byers shifted on the bench and squinted out at the 
sunny court. "This wouldn't be a red-headed cookie, would 
it?"

Mulder said nothing for a long moment.  He gave a short 
nod.  "I don't know what to do." 

"Well, uh... how big a bite of the cookie did you take?"

Mulder gave him a meaningful look.  "Huge."

"Oh."  Byers sat back and let out a long breath.  "My 
mother used to catch me with my hand in the cookie jar when 
I was little."

"What did you do?"

"Tried to lie my way out of it.  But cookie breath is 
always a dead giveaway."  He clapped his hand on Mulder's 
arm.  "I think maybe you have to take the lumps coming your 
way."

"I was afraid of that."

"But Mulder, here's the thing -- no matter how many times I 
got caught, the cookie was always worth it."

~*~*~*~*~

Monday morning Ethan ate a regular breakfast en route to 
returning to work.  He still looked a bit wan, his clothes 
hanging somewhat as he struggled to overcome a ten-day 
illness.

"You're sure you're up to this?" Scully asked as she 
refilled his orange juice glass.

"I'll survive.  If you're out too long, they start thinking 
they can replace you.  Should be an easy day."

"That's good, at least."

He crunched down on a piece of toast and nodded at her.  
"Hey, where's your ring?  Did you take it off for some 
reason?"

"Uh, I--I wanted to tell you about that." Scully felt her 
whole body flush.  She wanted to tell him but did not have 
the words.

During her hesitation, Ethan's cell phone rang.  "Hold that 
thought," he said as he went to answer it.

Scully heard him talking in the other room as she raced to 
figure out what to say.  Ethan, maybe we should wait.  
Ethan, I can't marry you.  Ethan, I just took it off to do 
the dishes. 

If she said no now, she would never have another chance to 
say yes.

"Scratch that easy day," Ethan said as he returned to the 
kitchen.

"What happened?"

"Hostage situation in Richmond.  Some escaped mental 
patient is holding four people including his psychiatrist.  
Melinda and I have to be there ASAP."  He kissed her cheek.  
"Thanks to some excellent doctoring, I'm ready to go."

"Ethan-"

"Got to run, sweetie.  I'll call you when I know something, 
but it could be another late night.  Love you.  Bye."

He disappeared in a rush, leaving Scully with a scattered 
table in an empty kitchen.  "Bye," she said.

~*~*~*~

From her office, Scully watched the scene unfold through 
Ethan's camera. Cop cars lined the streets and a crowd had 
gathered around the travel agency where the hostages were 
being held.

"We have unconfirmed reports that negotiations are underway 
with Duane Barry," Ethan said.  "No word yet on what 
exactly his demands are, but the FBI has the travel agency 
surrounded on all sides."

As if on cue, her phone rang.  "Scully."

"It's me," Mulder said.  "I'm in Virginia."

"I've been watching it on TV.  What's going on there?"

"What's the media saying?"

"That an escaped mental patient is holding four people 
hostage in a travel agency."

"Well, what they're not telling you is that he's former FBI 
who also claims to be an alien abductee."

"Seriously?"

"Yeah, his name's Duane Barry.  Look, Scully, I need your 
help.  I need you to find out what happened to him.  
Anything about his abduction experiences."

Scully heard shouting on the other end.  "Mulder?"

"The lights just went out here."

Scully waited, but he did not say anything else. "Mulder, 
what's going on?" But the line had gone dead.

~*~*~*~

Mulder stood stock still as they put the tiny transmitter 
into his ear.  He tried to pay attention to what the agents 
were telling him about how to handle Barry, but all he 
could think about was that he was going to be standing 
between Barry's nine millimeter and the four hostages.

No word from Scully yet on the specifics of Barry's 
abduction experiences.  Mulder would have to guess at it 
using what he knew from the literature.

"Your job will be to deliver medical help to the hostage," 
said the SAC Lucy Kazdin.  "You're to get in and get out.  
You are not to risk your own life.  Whatever you believe."

"Don't jump into his delusion," Mulder repeated from rote.  
"I can't negotiate with him if he thinks I believe him."

"Right."

Mulder and the paramedic entered the dark room cautiously.  
His first look at Duane Barry came on the wrong side of a 
gun.  Barry had wild brown hair and glassy, terror-filled 
eyes.

"Turn around!" he ordered them.

"We're just here to help," Mulder said.

He took in the jagged scar on Barry's forehead and the 
trembling weapon in his hand.  Mulder knew then that Barry 
was telling the truth.

He had felt that kind of desperate fear.  You couldn't make 
it up.

"I believe you," he told Barry.  "I believe you."

~*~*~*~

Scully hopped a quick flight to Richmond and then drove 
like the proverbial bat out of hell to the travel agency.  
They did not want to let her inside the war room.

"I don't think you understand what I'm telling you," Scully 
said to the young man guarding the door.  

"We got a situation in progress."

"All right, then let me speak to someone who's in charge."

Krycek appeared and put a hand on her shoulder.  "You are.  
Calm down, Scully."

Scully pushed his hand away.  "Don't tell me to calm down."

A black woman approached them with a frown on her face.  
"What's the problem here?"

"I'm Special Agent Dana Scully and I have information that 
is vital to your negotiations."

"What information?"

"I think there's been a critical misjudgment here.  This 
man who claims to be under the control if aliens, his 
mental health history describes a rare state of psychosis.  
As you can see from his medical records, in 1982, Duane 
Barry was shot in the line of duty, the bullet piercing his 
frontal lobes."

Scully filled them in on the fact that Barry might be a 
pathological liar.

"Well, if this is true, he's got your former partner 
completely fooled," Kazdin said.

"Is there anyway I can reach him with this information?"

"Sure, but it may be too late."

"What?"

"Show her."

They played a section of tape for Scully that featured 
Mulder talking to Barry.  She clutched the headphones and 
listened to her partner's strained voice.

"How old was your sister when they took her?" Barry asked.

"She was eight," Mulder replied, and Scully's heart sank.

"I've seen kids sometimes, young girls."

"What are they doing to them?"  

Scully closed her eyes.  Don't go there, Mulder.  Please.

"Doing tests," Barry said.  "You know... testing them."

"Are they hurting them?"

"Oh yeah.  Sometimes... it hurts real bad, and you just 
want to die, you know?"

There was a short silence.  "You can let the others go, 
Duane.  Let the others go and take me."

This man was describing torture that made you think death 
was a good option, and Mulder was offering himself up to 
go. 

"I've heard enough," Scully said roughly, shoving aside the 
headphones.  "I need to talk to him."

They hooked her up to Mulder's transmitter.  Barry was 
describing the abduction site.

"A mountain," he said.  "We went up and up.  Ascending to 
the stars.  I'm not going again."

"Mulder?" Scully said.  "It's me.  Listen to me.  You 
cannot trust Duane Barry.  He is a brain-damaged psychopath 
who took a bullet in the head."

Mulder, thank God, listened.  He nudged Barry toward the 
front door, where the SWAT team put a bullet through 
Barry's shoulder.

Mulder's ticket to the stars was cancelled.

~*~*~

Scully walked out of the building expecting to see Mulder.  
Instead she found herself on the receiving end of a 
familiar bright camera light.

"Agent Scully," Ethan's voice called to her.  "Any word on 
Duane Barry's condition?"

Scully, because she owed him one, squinted and answered. 
"He's being taken to the hospital.  That's all I know."

"What about the hostages?"

"They are all being evaluated at the hospital as well."

"And Agent Mulder?"

Unconsciously, she scanned the parking lot for him.  In the  
dark, all she could make out were a few shadowed figured.  
"Uh, he's fine, I think.  Excuse me, I have to get back to 
work."

Melinda cut the lights and Ethan came over to touch her 
arm.  "Hey," he said.  "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine.  I was never in any danger."

"Thank God." He kissed her head.  "I have to go edit this.  
Don't wait up tonight, okay?"

Scully searched out Mulder and found him watching Duane 
Barry being loaded into the back of an ambulance.  She 
wanted to wrap her arms around him, but with her luck, 
Ethan would catch the exchange on tape.

Scully swallowed the lump in her throat.  "Are you okay, 
Mulder?"

He nodded.  "It's just... I believed him."

Scully took a furtive look around and did not see anyone 
watching them.  She hugged Mulder fast and fierce.  "I'm 
glad you're okay," she whispered.

She pulled away before he could hug her back.

~*~*~*~

At home in DC, Scully stopped at the grocery on the way 
home.  Rain poured down against the wide storefront 
windows.  Scully ignored the sound as she proceeded to the 
checkout.  Ethan would be home soon, and they would talk.

The clerk scanned her items and rang up the total.  After 
Scully handed her the check, the woman went to clear out 
her register.

Scully fondled the small glass container in her pocket that 
held the implant removed from Duane Barry's abdomen.  What 
the hell, she thought, and waved it across the scanner.

The machine went wild, beeping and flashing numbers.

"What happened?" said the clerk, hurrying back.  "Did you 
touch something?"

"No," Scully muttered.  She grabbed her groceries and ran.


She barely noticed the rain this time as she raced from her 
car to her apartment.  It was dark inside; Ethan was not 
yet home.  Thunder rocked the walls and lightning sliced 
through her living room. 

Scully did not even remove her coat.  She dialed Mulder's 
number and cursed inwardly when she got his machine.

Pacing, Scully waited impatiently for the beep.  "Mulder, 
it's me.  I just had something incredibly strange happen.  
This piece of metal that they took out of Duane Barry, it 
has some kind of a code on it.  I ran it through a scanner 
and some kind of a serial number came up.  What the hell is 
this thing, Mulder?  It's almost as if... it's almost as if 
somebody was using it to catalogue him."

Something thumped outside her window.  Scully walked with 
the phone to the window and raised the blind.  

Duane Barry peered at her from the other side.

Scully gasped just before Barry came crashing through the 
window.  "Come on, lady," he yelled.

"Mulder!"

He struck her and she fell hard to the floor, the phone 
sliding out of her reach.  Barry grabbed her even as she 
struggled to crawl away.

"I need your help!  Mulder!"

~*~*~*~*~

Two hours later, after the worst answering machine message 
of his life, Mulder planted the front tire of his car on 
Scully's curb.  Cops were already crawling all over the 
place.

Mulder's heart accelerated further as he did not see Scully 
anywhere.  He jogged across the lawn and walked up the 
stairs.

Mulder paused on the landing to stare at the broken window.

*I need your help.*

He swallowed the rising bile and made himself look inside.  
The walls seemed to close in on him, the floor tilting 
beneath his feet.  He saw the shattered glass and the blood 
on her coffee table.  Strands of her red hair, pale and 
faded against the bloody smear, lay trapped on the glass.

Somehow, his knees held up.  He heard Maggie Scully outside 
in the hall, demanding entrance.  Mulder broke her the bad 
news:  "She's not in there."

"I had a dream that Dana was going to be taken away," Mrs. 
Scully said.  "I, uh, I was going to call her.  I was 
afraid it was going to scare her."

Mulder stood there, numb.  He should be looking for clues.  
He should be out searching for Scully.

"She would have laughed anyway," Mrs. Scully said.  "She 
didn't believe in that sort of thing you know."

The door opened then, and Ethan came storming through like 
a bull.  "You," he said, pointing a shaking finger at 
Mulder.  "What the hell are you doing here?"

"Ethan, please," Mrs. Scully said.

"Are you responsible for this?  Is this your work that did 
this?  Have you seen what happened to her in there?"

"I saw," Mulder said quietly.

"There--there's blood everywhere."  He swallowed visibly.  
"Dana's blood.  She's missing.  Tell me you know where she 
is."

"I wish I could."

"Tell me!"  Ethan charged Mulder and shoved him into the 
wall.  "You couldn't leave her alone.  You couldn't just 
let her be happy."

Mulder put his hands up but did not resist, pinned under 
the force of Ethan's anger.

"Ethan, stop it," Mrs. Scully pleaded.  "This isn't 
helping."

"They're saying Duane Barry did this to her.  Is that 
true?"  

Mulder said nothing.

"Is that true?" Ethan shouted in his face.

"It's true."

Ethan slammed his shoulders against the wall.  "You could 
have fucking killed him when you had the chance.  Why 
didn't you kill him?"

Maggie Scully tried to tug him back.  Ethan seemed to fade 
under Mulder's lack of fight.

"You could have killed him," he repeated, anguished and 
crumbling.  His legs gave way, and Ethan sagged against the 
back wall.  Maggie knelt with him.

Mulder turned his back on them and watched the men 
collecting Scully's blood from her living room.  He 
staggered out the front door, standing dazed on her front 
stoop.

Rain dripped on his head, down his ears and slithered cold 
under his collar.  Mulder shielded his face against the 
bright light of the reporters' cameras.  

They waited, hot spotlights trained like lasers, waiting to 
evaporate one of their own.

~*~*~*~

How did you find one small woman on a planet of five 
billion?  In the FBI conference room, Mulder wanted to put 
his hands over his ears and block out all the voices around 
him.  He was trapped with these two-dozen people, and he 
was sure that none of them was Scully.  That left nine 
hundred ninety-nine million, nine hundred thousand, nine 
hundred and seventy-six to go.

Skinner kept going back over what happened at the travel 
agency with Duane Barry.

That's over, Mulder wanted to shout.  It doesn't matter 
what happened twelve hours ago.  What matters is where he's 
taking her now, what he's doing to her now.

Mulder covered his face with his hands.

He felt schizophrenic, unable to regulate the volume of the 
noise in his head.  He had to focus.  He had to find her.

Skinner delivered the bad news:  "I need you to turn over 
your file to HRT."

"I'd like to brief them myself, sir."

"Go home, Agent Mulder.  You've been up all night.  Get 
some sleep."

Mulder leapt to his feet.  "Sir, I know Duane Barry.  I've 
been in his head.  I know how he thinks."

"You're too close to this case."

"Sir..."

"That's an order, Agent Mulder."

Of course he did not go home.  He went to his desk in the 
bullpen, where everyone stopped and stared.  Mounted on one 
corner sat a TV, which was tuned to the news but set on 
"mute."  Scully's picture, taken from her FBI 
identification, flashed overhead.  Missing, it said at the 
bottom of the screen.

Mulder rubbed his scruffed-up face and turned away.  
Thirty-five sets of eyes followed his slow walk to his 
desk, where he collapsed in his chair and wondered what the 
hell he was supposed to do next.

Krycek hovered behind him.  Skinner had ordered him to get 
Mulder home, and Mulder figured Krycek was still trying to 
guess at how to accomplish that short of a forced march at 
gunpoint.

"They're going to find her," Krycek said.

Mulder swiveled his chair around.  "Oh?  You know this for 
sure?  You get secret messages inside your head like Duane 
Barry, Alex?"

"No, I--"

"She's been missing over twelve hours now.  She could be a 
thousand miles away."

Only she wasn't.  She was barely one hundred miles away on 
route 222.

Duane Barry had a run-in with a Virginia state trooper that 
left the trooper dead and Scully's car in full view of the 
trooper's camera.

Mulder took the tape to the lab himself and had it 
examined. He and the tech watched as Barry shot the trooper 
and got out of the car.  Barry popped the lid on the trunk.

"Right there," Mulder said.  "Back it up a few frames.  Now 
magnify this area."

"My God," the tech breathed as Scully's face came into 
view.  She lay bound and gagged in the trunk of her own 
car.

Mulder had to tear his gaze away.  "She's still alive."

Route 222 headed straight to the Blue Ridge Parkway.  
Ascend to the stars, Duane Barry had said in the travel 
agency, and now Mulder had a destination.

Skyland Mountain.

"Get your car," he told Krycek.

"What about Skinner?"

"I'll deal with Skinner.  Just get your car."

The road to Skyland Mountain was a strong, thick snake that 
seemed intent on squeezing the life from the big rock.  
Krycek's car fishtailed on sharp turns, and Mulder held 
tight to the wheel.

"Maybe I should drive," Krycek said.

"I'm fine."

"You haven't slept yet.  I have."

"I said I'm fine."

Krycek turned his head to the window.  "You really think 
that he tracked her down with that implant?"

"That's the easiest explanation.  It's also the most 
implausible."

This got Krycek's full attention.  "There's another 
possibility?"

"Someone could have given him her address.  I don't know 
who."

Truth, the Smoking Man had said.  And consequences.

~*~

After a harrowing tram ride on bouncing cable, Mulder 
reached the top of the mountain.  Night had fallen, the air 
growing cold.  Wind rustled the forest of pine trees around 
him.

Overhead, a bright searchlight poured down from what looked 
like a military helicopter.  Figures, Mulder thought. He 
wondered who told.  Maybe Skinner put two and two together. 

Mulder ran blindly on until he found Scully's car with the 
doors open and the radio on.  There was blood on the 
steering wheel and no sign of Duane Barry.

Mulder popped open the trunk and braced himself for what he 
would find inside.  The lid rose, revealing the stench of 
blood and body odor.  Stained red rope lay curled in one 
corner.

The trunk light caught something else -- a glittering 
necklace.  Scully.  Mulder's awkward fingers picked up her 
delicate chain and cross.

The helicopter grew closer.  Or maybe there was more than 
one of them.  Thunderous sound pounded against Mulder's 
head.  The light grew more intense and the wind forced his 
eyes closed.

When the assault subsided, Mulder heard hysterical 
laughter.  "Yes!" cried Barry.

Mulder ran through the trees until he reached an open 
cliff.  Barry was dancing like a madman in the waving 
grass.  "Yes, yes!" he hollered.

"Federal agent," Mulder yelled.  "Where is she?"

"Yes!"

"Freeze!  I said where is she?"

Barry made no attempt to flee.  He continued his exuberant 
celebration.  "I'm free you sons of bitches!  I'm free!"

"Where is she?" Mulder demanded again as he cuffed Barry.

"They took her."

"Who?"

"Them!  I told you they were going to take somebody else.  
They did!"

~*~*~

Later, when it was all over, Duane Barry was dead and Alex 
Krycek had disappeared.  Mulder got the X-files back, but 
he had lost two partners in one short day.

He ended up as he started out: alone in the basement with a 
lot of unanswered questions.  He kept staring at the door 
thinking she would come through it.

"No one here but the FBI's most unwanted," he would say, 
but it of course it wasn't true.  He wanted her more than 
anything.

Mulder scrubbed his face with both hands and tried to 
remember the last time he had changed clothes.  He rarely 
spent time at home anymore.  When he wasn't at work, he was 
driving back and forth to Skyland Mountain.

Footfalls in the hall made him sit up straighter.  Too 
heavy to be Scully, but Skinner had started making a habit 
of dropping by.  Mulder did not want to give him any excuse 
for sending him home.

Instead of Skinner, Ethan Minette appeared at his door. 
"Security let me in," he said.  "I'm not sure why."  He 
looked down at his rumpled suit.  "I probably look like at 
least eight guys on the ten most wanted list."

"Come in," Mulder said, tossing aside a pencil.  "Have a 
seat."

Ethan had to move a stack of folders from the extra chair.  
Scully's chair.

"I didn't come here to fight," Ethan said.  "I came here to 
beg."

"Ethan, look--"

"Please.  There must be something you can do."  Ethan 
leaned forward, as if to spur Mulder into some form of 
action.  "You find missing people all the time, right?  
It's only been two weeks.  People come back after two 
weeks."

Mulder's throat closed off.  "We're doing everything we 
can."

"But you, this is your thing.  You're Spooky Mulder.  
You're the best of the best.  Please.  Dana needs you."

"I--I'm trying.  I mean, I haven't stopped looking."

Ethan leaned back, shoulders slumped.  "You don't really 
think it was aliens."

"I don't know what to think right now."

"Well, I do. It was a man who took her and some other human 
being has to know where she is right now.  People don't 
just disappear into the sky on alien spaceships."

Mulder said nothing.

"They don't!"

Mulder held up his hands, not challenging.  "You wanted 
Duane Barry dead.  You got your wish.  Now we've lost our 
best lead."

"You think that's my fault?  I didn't kill him."

"I didn't say you did."

Ethan stood up and paced the room.  "Look, I need something 
here.  Anything.  I know the odds.  I saw what happened to 
Patty Waeleski.  That little girl is probably..."  He 
swallowed hard in quick succession.  "I know what can 
happen.  I just need to know it's possible Dana is okay."

Mulder studied the end of his tie.

"Please," Ethan said, advancing on him.

Mulder sighed.  "Duane Barry gave her to whoever abducted 
him in the first place."

"And?"

"And Duane Barry came back."

Ethan straightened, contemplating this bit of news. "But he 
was crazy.  He was in a mental hospital."

"But he was alive."

~*~*~*~

"It's just over here."  The night breeze ruffled the trees 
as Mulder led Willie Holcomb to the edge of Skyland 
Mountain.  "Watch your step here," Mulder said.

"Getting chilly these nights," Willie replied, feeling his 
way along.  "You plan on coming up here all winter too?"

"If I have to, I will."

"Listen, you know how much I want to help you.  I'd do 
anything to help you find Scully.  But I just don't know 
how much I can do in this situation."

"Try," Mulder said.  "That's all I'm asking."  

They emerged from the trees into the clearing where Scully 
had disappeared.  Mulder set Willie off to one side.  "I 
came through right here," he said.  "Barry was over closer 
to the edge.  He was... He was laughing."

"Mulder..."

"I had my gun on him."  Mulder began re-enacting his 
confrontation with Barry as if Willie could see.  "I came 
up behind him and asked him where Scully was."  His arms 
wavered under the weight of the imaginary gun.  "He said 
they took her."

Willie turned his face to the wind.  "You said there were 
lights in the sky."

"Yes.  Bright lights.  And helicopters.  Barry was afraid 
they were coming back for him.  We struggled right here."  
He tugged Willie into position.  "The noises grew louder.  
I couldn't see.  Then suddenly they flew away."

"That's it?" Willie asked when Mulder did not say anything 
further.

"That's it."

Willie leaned down and touched the ground.  "The grass 
burned any place?"

"Not that I saw."

"And Barry never told you who did the handoff?"

"He never got the chance," Mulder said, disgusted.

Willie shook his head.  "Terrible thing.  Just terrible."  
He stood up and dusted off his hands.  "Mulder, I wish I 
could help you here."

"You can," Mulder insisted.  "Just walk around a little.  
Something will come to you."

"I wish that were true, but-"

"Just try it," Mulder ordered, giving him a small shove.  
He tried to force Willie into motion.  "Just for a few 
minutes.  This is where Barry was standing."

"Mulder!"

"There were at least two different aircraft.  One was on 
the left."

"Mulder," Willie said again, struggling to break free.  
"This isn't working."

"You can do it."

"No," Willie said as he ripped free.  "I can't!  I'm not a 
miracle worker, Mulder.  I'm just a man."

"You're not even giving this a chance!"

"I'm just a man," Willie repeated.  He grabbed Mulder's 
shoulders.  "Like you are."

"I have to find her."

"You will."

"I have to."

Willie hugged him fiercely.  "You will.  But not here.  Not 
tonight.  She's gone from this place, your Scully. You 
can't keep coming here to relive it.  It doesn't help her."

Mulder's ragged breathing made him dizzy.  He backed away, 
spent.  

Willie lifted his face to the sky.  "Tell me.  The stars, 
are they very beautiful up here?"

Mulder made himself look.  The vast expanse of sky 
glittered overhead.  Stars sparked in all directions, the 
history of space decorated in tiny twinkling lights.

"Yeah," he admitted.  "It's beautiful."

~*~*~*~*~

End chapter thirteen.  Continued in chapter fourteen.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

UNIVERSAL INVARIANTS

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Chapter Fourteen: Head Case

By syntax6


Mulder spent most nights like a mummy 
on his couch. In the blackness, his 
ceiling disappeared and the dark 
stretched on forever.  Only when his 
stomach crunched in on itself, craving 
food, did Mulder venture out into the 
city streets.

He liked the cover of shadow, felt the 
darkness cloak his sins. Scully had 
disappeared into the night and the 
black sky somehow made her seem closer 
again.

Dressed in ratty sweats and sneakers, 
Mulder exited his building only to stop 
short on the sidewalk.  He sighed and 
shook his head at the sight of the van 
parked across the street.

Mulder waited for traffic to clear and 
jogged over to the driver's side door.  
Ethan sat inside, sipping from some 
sort of liquor bottle still wrapped its 
paper bag.  He looked like a jigsaw 
puzzle that was missing a few pieces.

"I'm just going for pizza," Mulder told 
him.  "There's no need to follow."

Ethan capped his bottle and struggled 
to sit up.  "Pizza it is."

He smelled like Mulder's father after 
Samantha disappeared.

Mulder scuffed his sneaker on the road 
and stepped out of the way of a passing 
car.  "Listen, you can't keep following 
me around like this."

"Oh?  Why not?"  Ethan raised the 
bottle to his lips and met Mulder's 
gaze with a belligerent stare.

"It's..."  Crazy.  Infuriating.  
Shameful.  It was like being shadowed 
by himself.  "Not healthy," Mulder 
finished lamely.

"For me?  Or for you?"

"Don't you have a job or something you 
should be doing instead?"

"This is my work now."  Ethan spread 
his unsteady hands.  "I'm on leave.  
Compassionate leave.  That's what they 
give you when your fiancée gets 
abducted by aliens, see?"

The traffic noises faded away.  Mulder 
gripped the van door.  "Fiancee?"

Ethan nodded to himself.  "She was 
going to marry me.  Can you believe it?  
I didn't think she would say yes but 
she did."

"She... she never told me."

Ethan took another sip from his bottle 
and then handed it through the open 
window to Mulder.  "You want some?"  

Mulder waved him off.  "You should go 
home."

"Can't."  Ethan leaned his head back 
and looked at Mulder through narrowed, 
bleary eyes.  "Too quiet there.  All I 
see is the blood on the walls."

Mulder squeezed his eyes shut and saw 
the same gruesome image.  Here they 
were, two men mourning the same woman 
in the same way.  Only Ethan's pain had 
legitimacy. 

Mulder shook his head to clear it and 
patted Ethan's door through the window.  
"Come on, I'll get you a cab.  You 
can't stay here."

"I'm not a cop like you.  I don't know 
where to look.  I figureŠ do what I 
can.  Follow the lead.  You're the only 
lead I got, Mulder."

"I wish I could help you.  I promise 
I'm doing everything I can."

Ethan stumbled out into the street.  
"Like Patty?" he asked as Mulder 
steadied him.  

Fetid alcohol breath blew in Mulder's 
face.  He had no answer.

"I keep thinking about that little 
girl," Ethan continued.  "She's just 
gone.  Disappeared and no one knows 
where she is.  How can that happen to 
people, Mulder?  How can you be here 
one minute and then gone the next?  
Someone must know something."

Mulder struggled to hold the man 
upright as he stuck his arm out for a 
cab.  

"You gave up," Ethan accused.

That got Mulder's attention.  "I 
haven't given up."

"You have.  You've stopped looking for 
her.  You don't care whether she's ever 
coming home."

A cab pulled over to the side of the 
road, and Mulder began dragging Ethan 
to the back seat.

"You can't do this," Ethan said.  "You 
can't send me away now.  I need to-- I 
need to... What if you find her an' I'm 
not there?"

Breathing hard with the effort, Mulder 
wrestled Ethan into the back of the 
cab.  "Look, I'm not going to find her 
tonight, okay?"  He gave the cab driver 
three twenties and Scully's address.

"MulderŠ" Ethan's tone was pleading.

"Not tonight," Mulder repeated.  Ethan 
sagged against the seat and covered his 
face with his hands.

Mulder stood by the side of the road 
and watched the cab drive away.  As the 
tail lights rounded the corner out of 
sight, Mulder let his gaze climb up his 
apartment building, over the treetops 
to the night sky.

Only the brightest stars were visible.

~*~*~*~

Barbara and Tom Waeleski served weak 
tea in delicate cups as he sat with 
them in their living room.  A plate of 
cookies rested on the coffee table, but 
no one took a bite.  Mulder noticed 
Timmy giving them the eyeball, though, 
so he extended the tray over to the 
boy.

"I just didn't think anyone was still 
actively looking for Patty," Barbara 
said.  "We were told it's now a 'cold 
case' and that detectives would only 
start working on it again if a new lead 
surfaced."

Tom shifted forward.  "Is that it?  Do 
you have a new lead?"

"Uh, no.  I'm sorry.  But that's why I 
wanted to come back here."

Timmy stopped chewing the end of the 
chocolate chip cookie and looked up at 
Mulder.  His parents wore similarly 
expectant expressions.

Mulder touched the rim of his cup with 
one finger and then set it aside.  "I 
wanted to take another look at Patty's 
room.  It might not help at all, but 
sometimes after time goes by, you can 
get a different perspective.  I won't 
take long."

"Look all you like," Barbara said.  "We 
haven't touched a thing since..."  Tom 
put an arm around her shoulders.  
"Since you were here the last time," 
she finished hoarsely.

"You don't know what it's like," said 
Tom.  "It's like time stopped, like 
we're all living in limbo."

Timmy set his half-eaten cookie on a 
napkin and left the room.

"Let him go," Tom said when Barbara 
moved to go after him.

Barbara's eyes swam with tears.  "I 
think, more than anything, we need to 
know for Tim's sake what happened.  I 
can't imagine what this must be like 
for him.  I don't want him to grow up 
like this, with this shadow hanging 
over us."  She took a deep, shuddering 
breath and rubbed her palms on her 
thighs.  "If Patty is gone, we'll deal 
with it.  I just want to know.  I want 
to know what happened to my baby."

Tom squeezed his wife again.  "It's 
okay," he said against her temple.  
"It's okay."

"I'll just be upstairs," Mulder said, 
rising awkwardly.

He crept up the carpeted stairs and 
down the dark hall to Patty's bedroom.  
The light was on, so he gathered the 
family still spent some time in there 
despite what Barbara had said.  Mulder 
pushed open the door and found Timmy 
sitting on Patty's bed, holding her 
stuffed dog in his lap.

"Hi," Mulder said.

"Hi," Timmy replied glumly.  He fiddled 
with the dog's ears.

Mulder closed the door behind him.  "Is 
it okay with you if I look around?"

Timmy nodded.  "Are you looking for 
more clues?"

"Something like that."  Mulder met his 
eyes.  "Do you know of any?"

Timmy shrugged and looked around at the 
gymnastics trophies, ribbons, and 
family photos.  "She didn't keep a 
diary.  I know 'cause I checked 
everywhere already."

Mulder noticed Timmy's faded dinosaur 
T-shirt was getting too small for him.  
He remembered what Tom had said about 
being stuck in limbo and wondered if 
Timmy was looking to be six years old 
forever.  "Thanks for the tip," he told 
Tim.

He wandered over and inspected Patty's 
gymnastic trophies.  The statues would 
have passed the white-glove test, 
meaning someone had been taking good 
care of them.  "What can you tell me 
about Coach Matlock?" Mulder asked as 
he picked up the most recent trophy.

Timmy made a face.  "I don't like him."

"Yeah?  How come?"

"He never talks to me or anything.  He 
never seems happy at all.  Every time 
we went to watch practice, he was 
always yelling at everybody."

"What did Patty do when he yelled?"

"She tried harder.   Sometimes she 
cried if she was tired or hurting and 
he kept saying, 'One more time.'"

Timmy scooted off the bed and joined 
Mulder in front of the trophies.  He 
could barely lift the biggest one, but 
Mulder helped him steady it.  "Do you 
think Patty liked her coach?"

Timmy shrugged.  "I guess.  She liked 
gymnastics better than almost 
anything."

Mulder moved over to Patty's 
schoolbooks, which were also dust-free 
despite the fact that Patty would have 
been in an entirely different grade by 
then.  He flipped through the notebooks 
back to some of Patty's last writings.  
Mrs. Tricia Yearling, she had penned in 
flowery script.  Mulder smiled.  

He continued back to the point where 
she had written, "I hate her.  I hate 
her. I hate her."  Mulder ran his 
finger over the tiny, angry block 
letters.

"If Patty wrote that she hated 
someone," he said to Timmy, "who do you 
think she was talking about?"

Timmy tilted his head and scrunched up 
his face in thought.  "She hated Mom 
sometimes, I guess, when Mom grounded 
her and stuff.  I dunno." He swung his 
arms back and forth.  "Maybe Lindsey 
Beckwith."

"Lindsey Beckwith."  Mulder worked to 
place the name.  "You mean the other 
girl in gymnastics with her?"

"Yeah, that's her.  Patty called her a 
bad word once."

"A bad word?"

Timmy leaned closer to Mulder.  
"Bitch," he whispered.

"Oh," Mulder whispered back.  "Do you 
know why she called her that?"

"No."  Timmy stroked the silver figure 
on top of one of the trophies.  
"Patty's been gone a long time," he 
said after a moment.

"Yes," Mulder agreed.

"It's like when she was here, it was a 
dream.  You know?"

"Yeah, I know."

"In school we had to do this thing 
about us and our families.  To hang on 
the wall?  I was supposed to write 
about everyone in my family and draw a 
picture."

Mulder knew immediately what the boy 
was getting at.  He felt the missing 
people in his life like phantom limbs.  

Are you an only child? they would ask.  
And he felt like the only-est child in 
the universe.

Don't you have a partner? they would 
ask. And he felt like a monster locked 
away in the basement, a prince who had 
once been beautiful before tragedy made 
him too hideous to look upon.

Mulder cleared away the lump in his 
throat.  He had been this boy.  He was 
this boy.  He needed to know.

"What, uh, what did you write on your 
paper?" he asked.

Timmy slipped his small hand in 
Mulder's and led him down the hall to 
his room.  Mulder saw glow-in-the dark 
stars stuck to the ceiling and an un-
made rocket-ship bed.  On the wall, 
hung a child's school drawing with a 
short essay attached.  Timmy pointed.

"I have one sister," it read.  "Her 
name is Patty and she is a gymnast."

From the crayoned family portrait, 
Patty's over-large head grinned out at 
him, her red smile just barely 
contained at the edge.

~*~*~*~*~

As Mulder loped across the Waeleski's 
front lawn, he was only somewhat 
surprised to see Ethan's van parked 
behind his car.  Mulder stopped and 
patted himself down to make sure he 
wasn't wearing some sort of homing 
device.  From the front seat, Ethan 
lowered his coffee cup and gave a mock 
salute.

Mulder sighed and walked to the van.  
"You look like hell," he said.

"Right back at you," Ethan replied from 
behind dark glasses.

"How did you find me?"

Ethan raised one shoulder in an 
indifferent shrug.  "Lucky guess.  Dana 
always said you could be guilted into 
just about anything."

Mulder felt slapped.  "Scully said 
that?"

Ethan shrugged again and sipped his 
coffee.  "So where are we going now?"

"We're not going anywhere."

"I'm clean.  I'm sober.  I have a right 
to drive on public roads.  If our paths 
just happen to cross, then so be it."

"I can have you arrested for 
interfering in a federal 
investigation."

"Is that what you're doing?  
Investigating?"

Mulder imagined Scully returning to 
find he had tossed her anguished fiancé 
in jail.  He was desperate to find you, 
Scully, but I threw him in the clink.

"I told you," he said to Ethan slowly, 
"the case is still open."

Ethan set his jaw and nodded at the 
front door of the Waeleski home.  "Did 
you tell them?  Did you tell them the 
odds of finding someone alive after 
they've been missing seventy-two hours?  
Patty's been gone for over a year."

And Dana had been gone six weeks.

Mulder swallowed.  "They know," he 
said.  "I don't have to tell them."

"But you're still looking."

"I have never stopped looking."

~*~*~*~

Two wrongs make a mess, Mulder decided.

If you had sex with another man's 
fiancé, maybe you owed it to him to let 
him tag along on an investigation of a 
case that wasn't really yours to be 
investigating.

Which is how he ended up at Matlock's 
gym with Ethan in tow.  "Dana promised 
me an exclusive," he had told Mulder, 
and Mulder was in the business of 
keeping promises.

"Just don't say anything," Mulder 
warned.  "And no camera."

They found Dave Matlock at his desk in 
the back office, dressed in a wind-
breaker jacket and parachute pants.  
"The cops and the media at once," he 
said, sounding unimpressed.  "I guess 
we're eliminating the middleman this 
time?  No, 'sources say' Coach was 
having illicit relationship with 
missing gymnast?"

"Were you?" Mulder said, deadpan. 

"Fuck off," Matlock replied.  He looked 
at Ethan.  "And you can quote me."

"You sure spend a lot of time with 
little girls," Ethan said, and Mulder 
shot him the "shut the hell up" look.

"They're not little girls," Matlock 
sneered.  "They're world champion 
athletes.  You see an eleven year-old 
in a leotard.  I see a future Olympic 
gold medallist."

"Is that what you saw in Patty?" Mulder 
asked.

Matlock softened for the first time.  
He took off his glasses and rubbed his 
eyes.  "Patty was the best I'd ever 
seen," he said simply.

"Better than Lindsey?"

Matlock's guard flew up again.  "Why do 
you ask about Lindsey?"

"Just curious.  She's your new star 
pupil now, right?"

"I have no star pupils.  We train as a 
squad.  If you'll excuse me, the girls 
will be here soon and we have much work 
to do."

"Don't you want to know if we have 
anything new on Patty?" Mulder pressed.

"Do you?"

"You never asked.  Don't you want to 
know what happened to her?"

"Of course I do.  It's been such a long 
time now..."

"You know how Patty sprained her arm 
before she disappeared," Mulder said, 
moving closer.  "But you won't say.  
Why is that?"

"I never hurt Patty."

"I didn't say you did.  How did she 
hurt her arm, Coach?  Did you push her 
too far at practice?  Did she ask to 
stop and you said no?"

Matlock's nostrils flared and he backed 
away from Mulder.  "Girls get injured 
here all the time.  We work to prevent 
it but sometimes it happens.  I would 
never hurt Patty or do anything to 
compromise her career."

"Did she threaten to tell?" Mulder 
asked, keeping his voice low even as he 
advanced.  "Did she say she wanted out?  
All those gold visions of yours going 
up in smoke?"

"You don't know what the hell you're 
talking about," Matlock said.

"Coach?" The door flew open and a red-
haired girl froze on the threshold.

"Not now, Lindsey," Matlock said 
sharply.  "Go get changed and I'll talk 
to you later."

Lindsey turned white and fled the room.  
Matlock straightened his jacket.  "The 
girls are here," he said more calmly.  
"If you have specific questions, you 
can call my lawyer.  I'll get his 
card."

"You need a lawyer?" Ethan asked.  
"What the hell for?"

"Because after a year I still have the 
FBI and the TV people showing up here 
and disrupting my practice."  He handed 
the card to Mulder.  "I hope you find 
her," he said.  "For the parents' sake.  
But there is nothing more I can do to 
help you."

Mulder stared at him for a minute, 
searching his face.  When he got the 
answer he was looking for, Mulder 
tapped the card against his palm and 
backed off.  "Thanks for your time," he 
said.  

Ethan followed him out.  "That's it?  
You're just going to let him off like 
that?  The bastard knows something and 
he's not talking.  What if he killed 
her?"

"He didn't kill her."

"What about the arm?  Maybe it's like 
you said, he sprained it and Patty was 
going to tell."

"She wasn't going to tell.  She made up 
a story to her parents about the 
accident in the tree."

Ethan stopped in the hall, clearly 
frustrated.  "Well, what then?  You 
said he knows what happened!"

"He knows.  He's protecting someone."

"Who?"

"The only one he has left to protect."

~*~*~*~

Fall was his favorite season, but 
Mulder recognized the irony as he 
stared out the window at the trees lit 
aflame by the sinking sun.  Nature died 
a beautiful death.

Ethan waited with him in the front seat 
of his Taurus, eating Mulder's seeds 
and tossing the shells out the window.  
"I guess this is where Dana used to 
sit, huh?" he asked as he picked a hull 
from his teeth.

Mulder looked over but said nothing.

"If this is really all you guys did -- 
sitting here for hours waiting for 
something to happen -- I have to say I 
don't get the attraction."

"Isn't this what you do? Wait for 
something to happen so you can 
photograph it?"

"Well, yeah.  But you're FBI.  I'd 
think you could go *make* something 
happen."

"That's where you went awry."

Ethan crunched a seed.  "You know what 
I keep thinking about?"

Mulder didn't really want to know, but 
he made himself ask.  "What?"

"Her dad.  The old Navy captain. What 
he would say if he knew what happened 
to Dana."

"None of us knows what really 
happened."

Ethan shifted, making the leather seat 
creak.  "No, seriously," he said as he 
faced Mulder.  "Just cut the crap for a 
minute.  It's just you and me here.  I 
think we both know, right?  Dana didn't 
run off.  Some fucking homicidal 
lunatic kidnapped her.  She hasn't been 
home or tried to contact any of us in 
six weeks.  You're telling me you think 
there is any hope that she's alive?"

"There's always hope."  Mulder realized 
he sounded lame.

Ethan faced forward again and struggled 
suddenly with his composure.  "If she 
were alive, she would have called.  She 
would want to talk to me.  She would 
want to talk to her mother."

"Ethan, listen‹"

"I heard that he tied her up and put 
her in the trunk.  I heard you found 
rope and blood in the trunk."  Ethan 
turned again, his eyes wild.  "Is it 
true?"

"Yes," Mulder said avoiding his eyes.  
"That's true."

"I don't know how you can have seen 
that," Ethan replied, "and still talk 
about hope."

"I've seen many things, things that 
have convinced me that the world is 
much less certain than most people 
would believe."

"So if aliens exist, then long-lost 
sisters might come home again, is that 
it? Anything is possible?"  Ethan shook 
his head.  "If that's what it takes, 
then I'd chase little green men too.  I 
would dress up as Captain Kirk in a 
tinfoil hat if I thought it would 
change the world.  I wish I could make 
that leap, Mulder, I really do."

Mulder considered.  He had never taken 
stock before, but most of the time his 
belief system brought more pain, not 
peace.  He saw monsters others never 
knew existed.  Most people drifted 
blissfully unaware of the flukeworm in 
the sewer and the alien-human hybrids 
in lab.  They read about doctors dying 
in car accidents and thought icy roads 
instead of icy hearts.  They swept 
their apartments for dirt, not bugs.  
At night, they watched the sky for 
shooting stars and not shooting 
spaceships.

But then he remembered Ruby, the sister 
who reappeared from the fiery sky.

"Sometimes they come back," he told 
Ethan simply.

"God, I hope so."  Ethan clenched his 
fists.  "If we could find Patty, if she 
turned out to be okay after all this 
time, don't you think that would be 
some sort of sign?"

"Whoever took Patty Waeleski has 
nothing to do with Scully's 
disappearance."

"I know. I guess I just want to see it 
happen.  I want to believe."  He looked 
at Mulder.  "You know?"

Mulder gave a wry smile.  "Look, 
practice is over.  There she is."

Across the street, Lindsey Beckwith 
emerged from the gym carrying a duffel 
bag.

Mulder and Ethan slammed their car 
doors in unison, stepping out into the 
cool evening wind.  They jogged across 
the street and chased down Lindsey, who 
was hurrying away with her head down, 
ponytail swishing with each quick step.

"Lindsey," Mulder called, and the girl 
jumped.  She whirled around with the 
bag on her shoulder.  "Lindsey 
Beckwith?"

"Yeah," she replied, eyeing them 
warily.

Mulder pulled out his ID.  "My name is 
Agent Mulder.  I work for the FBI.  
This is Ethan Minette.  Can we talk to 
you a minute?"

"What about?"

"Patty Waeleski."

Lindsey scuffed one petite foot on the 
sidewalk.  "What about her?"

"I heard you and Patty didn't exactly 
get along."

"She wasn't my best friend, but she was 
okay."

"So you don't have any idea what might 
have happened to her."

"No, of course not."  She did not 
exactly sound convincing.

"Coach Matlock was just telling us that 
Patty was the best gymnast he'd ever 
seen."  Mulder let that sink in.  
Lindsey scuffed a little harder and 
gave a deliberate shrug.  "Must have 
been hard training in the same gym as 
Patty."

"She did her thing and I did my thing.  
It didn't really matter to me."

"How did Patty hurt her arm?"

Her head snapped up.  "What?"

"Patty sprained her arm a short time 
before she disappeared.  I was 
wondering if you knew how it happened."

"I‹I don't know."

"You went to school with her, right?"

"She went to my school."

"I heard she got hurt in school.  
You're sure you don't know how it 
happened?"

"I told you -- no.  Look, I'm late for 
dinner.  Can I go now?"

"Sure, we'll come with you," Mulder 
offered.  "Walk you home.  Can't be too 
careful, you know, after what happened 
to Patty.  She was walking home too 
when she disappeared."  Mulder looked 
at Ethan.  "Isn't that right?"

"Oh, right.  Absolutely."  Ethan 
nodded.  "She was walking home all 
alone and someone must have grabbed her 
off the street."

Lindsey's eyes narrowed.  "You're just 
trying to scare me."

"I'd be scared."  Mulder squinted at 
the darkening sky.  "One minute you're 
walking home, the next you're vanished 
for good."

"I'm not Patty."

Mulder looked at her.  "No?"

"I'm nothing like Patty."

"How are you not like her?"

"I follow the rules like the rest of 
the team.  I don't expect special 
treatment.  I show up when I'm supposed 
to and I don't running to Dave with 
every little broken nail."

"Is that what Patty did?"

"I have to go."  She turned but Mulder 
grabbed her arm.  Lindsey looked down 
at his fingers curled around her elbow.

"How did Patty hurt her arm?"

"I told you--"

"You argued with her that day, didn't 
you?"

"Let me go."

"Is that what she said to you?  You 
just wanted her to listen.  You just 
wanted her to pay attention to you for 
once.  You weren't going to let her 
walk away."

Lindsey struggled, ponytail bouncing.  
"I said let me go!"

"Whatever you said it must have worked.  
Patty didn't say a word to anyone.  Did 
you threaten her, Lindsey?"

"I wasn't Patty's problem."

"She thought you were."

"Well, she was a bitch."  Lindsey 
clamped her mouth shut but the words 
were already out.  The fight left her, 
and Mulder dropped his hold.

"What happened that day, Lindsey?"

She hunched thin shoulders.  "Patty 
didn't care about anyone but Patty.  
She was Little Miss Queen of 
Everything.  You'd think she already 
won a gold medal.  Dave thought she was 
perfect, but he didn't know the truth."

"What truth?"

"Patty was a little tramp."

Ethan looked at Mulder.  Mulder shook 
his head: don't say anything.

"We're not supposed to be dating 
anyone.  It's against the rules.  But 
did Patty think that meant her?  No, of 
course not."

"Patty had a boyfriend?"  Mulder 
flashed on the childish script from 
Patty's notebook: Mrs. Tricia Yearling.  
The Yearling boy had been at a soccer 
game the day Patty disappeared.  Mulder 
tried to come up with the kid's name.  
"Evan?"

Lindsey made a face.  "Not Evan," she 
said.  "His brother Ryan."

~*~*~

It was dark by the time Mulder and 
Ethan got to the Yearling house.  Thick 
bushes quivered in the breeze as they 
walked up the front path.  A light 
shone on the small front porch, as if 
the family had been expecting them.

Mulder rang the bell.

A few minutes later a woman with 
graying curly hair answered.  "Yes?" 
she asked as she dried her hands on a 
dishtowel. 

Mulder showed her his ID.  "Agent 
Mulder from the FBI," he said.  "This 
is Ethan Minette.  Do you mind if we 
come in?"

"What is this about?"

A teenage boy materialized at her 
shoulder.  Mulder remembered him now.  
That's a boy used to getting everything 
with just a smile, Scully had said.

He wasn't smiling now.

"Mom," he said.  "I think you better 
let them in."

~*~*~*~*~

End Chapter Fourteen.  Continued in 
Chapter Fifteen.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

UNIVERSAL INVARIANTS

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

by syntax6

Chapter Fifteen: From Here to Eternity

The Yearlings lived in a small, square house with a 
matchbox-sized kitchen.  Mulder felt huge as he crammed 
himself into the tiny room, which already held four 
Yearlings and a floppy-eared mutt.  The dog thumped its 
tail weakly on the vinyl floor, looking from person to 
person as he tried to figure out whether these new visitors 
brought good will or bad.

Mulder himself was not sure yet.

"As you can see, we're in the middle of dinner," said Mrs. 
Yearling.  

"I apologize for the timing," Mulder replied, "but this 
couldn't wait."

Ethan hovered behind him.  If Mulder backed up even a 
fraction, he would be stepping on the other man's toes.

"What is it we can do for you?" Mr. Yearling asked.

The boys, Ryan and Evan, had backed their chairs nearly to 
the corner.

"We're here about Patty Waeleski," Mulder said, watching 
the boys' faces as he spoke.  Evan paled.  Ryan, the older 
one, just looked down at his plate.

"She went to school with Evan," Mrs. Yearling said as she 
moved to stroke her younger son's hair.  "They were all 
upset when she went missing."

"Don't tell me you've found the girl," Mr. Yearling said.

"No, sir," Mulder answered.  "But we think Ryan might be 
able to help us figure out what happened to her."

"Ryan," Mr. Yearling growled.  "What for?  He didn't even 
know the girl."

Ryan looked positively green.

"Is that true, Ryan?" Mulder asked, bending his knees a bit 
to try to catch the teenager's gaze.

"I-- I knew her."

The rest of the family looked at him sharply.  "What?  
How?" his mother asked.

"We met at the CD store."

"That's where she disappeared from," Mrs. Yearling 
whispered.  "I told you not to go back there."

"I haven't!"

"You met at the CD store," Mulder continued softly.  "Is 
that when you started dating?"

"Dating!  She was a just a kid!" Mr. Yearling said. "Ryan's 
in high school.  What would he want with a little girl like 
that?"

Ryan made himself smaller and smaller in his chair.  "She 
was so nice," he said.

"You saw her there that day, didn't you?" Mulder asked.  
"The day she disappeared?"  

Ryan nodded.

Mr. Yearling stepped between Mulder and his son.  "I don't 
know what the hell is going on here, but I've heard enough.  
I think you'd better leave."

"Did you see something, Ryan?" his mother asked.  She 
looked wide-eyed at Mulder.  "Is that why you're here?"

Mulder met the boy's haunted gaze.  "I think Ryan knows 
what happened to Patty."

"Don't say anything, Ryan," Mr. Yearling ordered.

"Where is she, Ryan?" Mulder asked.

"I--I--" Mulder thought the kid was going to pass out.

"You can bring her home, Ryan," Mulder said.  "You can make 
this all be over."

"It's too late," Ryan blurted.

"Ryan!" his father roared.  Evan Yearling had tears running 
down his face.  Ryan gulped deep breaths of air.

"Tell me," Mulder said.

Ryan stared at him, horror twisting his features.  He 
couldn't get the words out.

"Tell me what happened," said Mulder again.

"Patty's dead," Ryan said in the small, cheery kitchen.  
"She's dead."

Ethan stiffened behind Mulder.  Evan threw up all over the 
kitchen table as Mrs. Yearling moved to grab her older son. 
Mr. Yearling seemed too stunned to talk.

"You know where Patty is," Mulder said, and Ryan nodded.  
Mulder steeled himself.  "Show me."

~*~*~*~

It was the middle of the night before they got to the 
river.  Wind shook the trees around them and the cops had 
high-powered search lights trained into the woods as men in 
boots made their way down the riverbank. 

Surrounded by law enforcement, Ryan seemed more like a 
child than a young man; his father kept one arm around him 
as he shivered inside his varsity jacket.

"You and Patty came down here that day?" Mulder asked.

"We used to hang out here all the time.  No one would 
bother us and we didn't have to worry about anyone seeing.  
Her coach would have killed her if he knew."

A diving crew stood nearby dressed in wet suits.  Ryan 
caught sight of them and stopped talking, so Mulder moved 
to block his view.

"What happened, Ryan?"

"We were just horsing around like usual.  Skipping stones 
and stuff."  Ryan stared out at the black rushing water. 
"She said she had to get home but I kept asking her to stay 
a little longer."  He looked up at his father.  "I can't," 
he whispered.

Mr. Yearling rubbed his son's shoulders.  "You have to," he 
said.  "Just tell them."

"It was an accident."  Ryan cast pale, pleading looks at 
Mulder, Ethan and the waiting DC detectives.  "You have to 
understand."

"You were skipping stones," Mulder said.  "Then what?"

Ryan pointed out a fallen tree that stretched across a 
narrow part of the river.  "We were on that log.  Patty 
used to show off doing cartwheels and handstands.  Her 
balance was amazing."

He bit his lip.  Mulder could feel the diving team getting 
restless.  "After you were on the tree what happened?"

"We were walking across it.  Patty was in front of me.  She 
was laughing and making fun of how much easier it was for 
her.  I kidded her.  I said one day she'd fall in and be 
sorry."  His eyes welled and he wiped his palms on his 
jeans.  "I... I pushed her.  It was supposed to be a joke.  
She never falls.  She's like a cat or something."  He 
spread his hands helplessly.  "I didn't think she would 
fall."

"She fell into the river?"

"I didn't mean it.  I swear."  Ryan was openly crying now.

"Which side?" Mulder asked.  

Ryan pointed.  "I reached down but the current was a lot 
stronger than it looked.  She couldn't get out."

One of the divers stepped forward.  "This goes downstream 
to the dam."

Ryan covered his face. "I couldn't get her out.  I tried 
everything."

Mulder dug out his flashlight to follow the diving team 
along the river.  Their footsteps crunched the leaves and 
twigs as they walked.

They reached the short metal dam that bridged the river. 
Ryan turned away, unable to watch as the men walked up to 
the water's edge.

"You get something caught down there, and it just bangs 
over and over again against the wall," one of the divers 
explained quietly to Mulder.  "It's got a pull like you 
wouldn't believe."

"Can you get in there to search?" Mulder asked.

"I wouldn't chance it in the dark like this.  If that girl 
got caught in the dam, she's nothing but bones now."

Mulder looked at the bubbling white foam.

"At least her parents would have something to bury."

Shortly after dawn, the search and rescue team resurrected 
a skull, a pelvis and a handful of other bones from the 
river.

Patty Waeleski was coming home at last.

~*~*~*~

Mulder pulled the car to a stop in front of the Waeleski's 
house.  The cops had held the media off for several hours, 
but if someone did not inform Patty's family soon, they 
would be learning about the bones on the television news.

Ethan was sitting this one out.  He rubbed tired eyes and 
half-slumped against Mulder's passenger side door. 

They had stopped briefly in McDonald's for coffee, at which 
point Mulder had taken the opportunity to shave with a 
disposable razor and wash off his face.  Ethan looked like 
a back-alley bum, but Mulder was going to tell two parents 
that their daughter was dead.  He owed them some respect.

"You stay here," Mulder said.

"Believe me, I will."  Ethan sighed.  "You know what 
absolutely kills me?  She was four miles from home this 
whole time."

"I know."  Patty had been dead long before her family even 
knew she was missing.

"At least no one killed her on purpose.  That has to be 
something, right?  Her parents know she didn't suffer."

"Maybe."  Mulder glanced at front door, stalling.  
"Sometimes I think this is worse than an intentional death.  
You're left wondering why for the rest of your life."

He slid out of the seat and walked slowly up the front 
walk.  Mulder rang the bell, shuffling around awkwardly on 
the stoop as he waited for someone to answer.

The door opened to reveal Barbara Waeleski.  She took one 
look at Mulder and yelled for her husband.  "Tom?  Tom!"

"What is it?" Tom asked as he materialized behind his wife.  
His hair was still wet from his shower.

A moment later Timmy squeezed in front of them.  Tom drew 
the boy back against his legs.  "What's going on?" he asked 
Mulder.

"May I come in?" 

"Patty's dead," Barbara said.  "Isn't she?"

"Please," Mulder replied.  "Let me come in and I'll tell 
you the whole story."

~*~*~*~

Patty Waeleski's family buried her on a sunny, late October 
morning as red trees scraped against a true-blue sky.  
Mulder eyed the casket covered in flowers and remembered 
what the divers had said about Patty's bones.  She had 
emerged in smooth ivory, polished like a stone from the 
rushing water.

Her family sat in the front row, frozen in their grief; 
Timmy dressed as a small undertaker.  

Mulder wondered briefly if it was different for a youngest 
child to lose a sibling.  He had known a time without 
Samantha, but Timmy had been following in Patty's footsteps 
since birth.  He had to blaze his own trail now.

After the service, a bell tolled solemnly from the old 
stone church as the mourners poured out into the sunshine.  
Most of them were kids like Patty herself.  Notably absent 
were Ryan Yearling and the rest of his family.

Mulder lingered off to one side by a fading oak tree.  
Ethan ambled up with his hands stuffed deep into his 
trouser pockets.  He had attended the funeral without a 
camera.

"Nice service," he remarked to Mulder, who nodded in 
agreement.  "You drive past funerals all the time around 
here, but you never really think about the person who died, 
you know?"

"It's not usually a little girl," Mulder replied.

"Yeah.  I guess I've just been thinking about how easy it 
is.  One small slip and you're gone forever."

Mulder watched the pall bearers bring Patty's casket down 
the front steps.  "I keep thinking about the gold medal," 
he said, and Ethan looked at him questioningly.

"What?"

"Next Olympics, some girl will win the medal in Atlanta.  
Maybe it would have been Patty's medal.  Maybe not.  But 
now we'll never know."

~*~*~

After Patty, the days grew shorter, sunlight shrinking and 
weakening under winter's gathering power.  Wind shook dead 
leaves from the trees; they blew brown and restless through 
dark empty streets as Mulder combed his neighborhood on 
foot.

He made himself an open target.  Anyone lurking in the 
shadows had an easy shot. 

You want to come get me? he thought.  Go ahead.

He had never dreamed they'd go through Scully.  In the dark 
game they played, he was the mouse, not her.  The shadow 
men hid under his bed.  The Smoker littered his front walk 
with ash.  They beat him up, drugged him, kidnapped him and 
lied to him.

No one told him they would come for her.

Mulder ran the night streets until his lungs caught fire 
from lack of air.  He ended up doubled-over, heaving as 
sweat chilled his skin.

If she did somehow come back, the kindest thing he could do 
would be to send her away again.  Marry Ethan.  Live in the 
suburbs.  Stay away from the dark man in the trench coat 
who is haunted by UFOs.

Mulder jogged back to his apartment.  He tried to remember 
the last thing he had said to her and couldn't recall the 
words.  Something about Duane Barry; something about the 
case.  He hoped at least his tone was kind.

When he got back to his place, he found Ethan sitting in 
the hall outside his front door.  He held something in his 
hands that resembled a video cassette.  "Minette, this is 
really getting old," Mulder said, still somewhat 
breathless.

Ethan got to his feet as Mulder put the key in the lock.  
"I know.  That's why I came by."

Mulder just looked at him.

"So can I come in?"

There was never a shadowy gunman around when you needed 
one.  "Suit yourself."

They entered Mulder's apartment and Mulder crashed onto the 
sofa.  "Sorry, the maid has the century off."  Ethan sat on 
the edge of the opposite chair, not even bothering to 
remove his coat.

"I'm going back to work," he told Mulder.

Mulder waved one hand in a circle in mock excitement.  
"Thanks for the update.  Does this mean I'll be losing my 
tail?"

"I just wanted you to know I know you did everything you 
could to find Dana."

Not everything.  She wasn't found.  Mulder sighed and sat 
up.  "Listen, as much as I appreciate this little heart-to-
heart we're having--"

"I also know you're in love with her."

Mulder froze.  "What?"

Ethan stretched out and handed him the videotape.  "The 
camera doesn't lie.  See for yourself."

"I don't understand," Mulder said as he looked down at the 
cassette.

"I do."  Ethan gave a crooked smile.  "Because I love her 
too."  He stood up.  "So I'm going back to work.  Maybe you 
should consider doing the same."

"I'm working," Mulder protested.

Ethan shook his head.  "Watch the tape.  I'll get out of 
your hair now, and you don't have to be looking over 
shoulder anymore."  Ethan took a last look around at the 
disarray of Mulder's apartment.  "Take care of yourself, 
okay?  She would want that."

He let himself out without another word, leaving Mulder 
stock-still on the couch with the videotape still in hand.  
He was afraid to pop it in the machine.  What if someone 
had videotaped him and Scully in bed in Arecibo?

Mulder bit his lip and tapped the tape against one palm.  
At last, he took a deep breath and removed it from its 
protective case.  He slipped it into the machine and braced 
himself as the TV flickered on.

But it was not naked, writhing bodies that appeared on his 
screen.  Mulder saw his own face reflected back at him.  He 
was walking along a dark street near his house, looking 
like he could use a shave.

The camera was shaky; clearly Ethan had been working out of 
the front seat of his van by himself.  He watched Mulder 
round the corner and disappear.

The image jumped and Mulder was eating a sandwich on a park 
bench.  He kept looking up at the clouds overhead.

Next Ethan had grabbed him stumbling half-drunk out of the 
Gunmen's lair.  Frohike poured him into a taxi and sent him 
on his way.

Ethan had followed him at least once to Skyland Mountain.  
He caught Mulder sitting on the grass where Scully had 
disappeared into the night.  The camera zoomed in so close 
Mulder could almost see the stars reflected in his eyes.

The last images were of him sitting in his car outside 
Scully's apartment.  Ethan had captured the film from 
inside, from the window where Scully had stood while Duane 
Barry smashed his way into her home.

Mulder looked lost.

His tired, bleary eyes stared at the TV as it faded to 
static.  So much, he thought, for keeping secrets.

~*~*~*~

Mulder used his key to enter her apartment one day while 
Ethan was at work.  He felt guilty returning to the scene 
of the crime without permission, sneaking in like a thief, 
but he had to see for himself.

It no longer smelled like her.  This was the first thing he 
noticed.  It smelled like a bachelor's pad now, even if the 
look remained firmly feminine.

Mulder brushed back one lacy curtain from the window to 
trace the cool, smooth glass.  The blood was gone.  No 
traces of violence lingered on the walls or carpet.

He wandered to her desk and touched the papers and bills 
she had neatly tucked into their respective slots.  The 
calendar was still turned to April.  Scully's neat printing 
appeared on the twenty-second: "dr's appt."  Mulder 
imagined a nurse standing in the waiting room calling her 
name to no avail.

He had the same sense he'd felt in Patty's bedroom, the 
sudden halt of a life interrupted, as though the owner 
would walk back in at any second and resume without a beat.

Mulder touched her things -- picked up her pen, smelled her 
soap in the bathroom, flipped through the book on her 
nightstand.  Scully had been one-third of the way through 
"The English Patient."  

Death and doomed love in the middle of a war, Mulder 
thought as he set the book down.  How appropriate.

He let his fingers linger over the suits in her closet and 
picked up one high-heeled shoe.  Her foot reached barely 
the length of his hand.

Mulder smiled, wistful.

I asked her to marry me, Ethan had told him.  And she said 
yes.

Yes.  He could hear her voice saying the word, breath hot 
in his ear.  Yes, yes, yes.

Mulder squeezed his eyes shut for a long moment and then 
dusted off his hands.  He had no place in this house, with 
Ethan's razor and Ethan's clothes and Ethan's arm around 
Scully in a group of smiling photos.

Maybe Ethan was right.  It was time to go back to work.

~*~*~

If Scully's life had been frozen in time, then Mulder's had 
been packed away like old furniture.  He removed the large 
plastic sheets draped around his basement office and opened 
all the doors to remove the musty smell.

He tucked Scully's glasses and ID away in the X-File 
drawer.  It seemed almost apt that Scully would be filed 
alongside his other greatest mysteries.

Mulder took the first case out of town, as far away as 
possible.  He took his cold heart to the fires of Los 
Angeles and met a woman who was not Scully.

This woman was dark where Scully was light, tall instead of 
short, trembling and frightened where Scully was strong.  
She put her sexuality on display for the world to see -- no 
buttoned up proper suits for her.  For one night, Mulder 
thought he might be able to rescue her from herself.

But then morning came and the woman set herself on fire.  
Mulder considered refraining from sexual relations until 
the year 2089.

He traveled six thousand miles and found himself right back 
where he started from, only scratched-up, smoke-filled and 
singed around the edges.  At night he lay on his sofa, 
fingering the cross at his neck, and watching himself on 
Ethan's tape.  His eyes glazed over, bags puffing 
underneath, but Mulder played the tape on an endless loop.

He never did find what he was looking for.

~*~*~*~

Mulder stopped his car at the address Mrs. Scully had given 
him.  She stood in front of the store window, shading her 
eyes and giving him a small wave.  Mulder's eyes rose to 
check out the store's name: Martin Memorial.

Natural granite headstones.

Mulder cut the engine and stared.  She could not be 
serious.

Maggie Scully walked over to the passenger side door and 
leaned down.  "Are you coming?" she asked him through the 
window.

Mulder forced wobbly legs out of the car.  "Hi, Mrs. 
Scully."

"Hello, Fox.  Thank you for meeting me."

Mulder eyed the storefront again.  "Of course.  I'm a 
little curious about what we're doing here."

She gave him a sad smile.  "I wanted to show you something.  
Dana's family, and Ethan of course, we've been talking and 
we think it's time to honor Dana."

"Honor?  With a gravestone?"

"Please," she said, "just come have a look."

"It would be an empty grave.  You don't even know she's 
dead.  I can't believe you would give up on her this 
quickly.  Where is the honor in that?"

"How long would you wait?  Six months?  A year?  Ten?  At 
some point you have to let Dana go in peace."

"It's only been a few months."

"Months without a single lead."  She stroked his upper arm.  
"Dana's gone, Fox.  I know my daughter.  If she were alive, 
we would have heard from her by now."

"With all due respect, Mrs. Scully, I don't think you have 
all the facts here."

"What facts?  You know something about Dana's whereabouts 
that I don't?"

"No," he conceded.  "It's just a feeling."

"Please come in with me," she said.  "Just for a minute."

Mulder still hesitated.  "What did Ethan say about all 
this?"

"He's seen the marker," Mrs. Scully replied softly.  "We 
have his blessing."
Mulder wondered if this was a Solomon-like test; her true 
love wouldn't give up, would he?

Reluctantly, Mulder let Scully's mother take him inside the 
store to view the headstone.

Dana Scully, it read.  Beloved Daughter and Friend.

~*~*~

This time it was Mulder waiting for Ethan outside the front 
door.  Ethan parked his van and came up the steps, looking 
surprised to find Mulder waiting on the stoop.

"How could you do that to her?" Mulder wanted to know.  
"You're just giving up!"

Ethan did not answer for a long minute.  "It wasn't my 
idea," he said finally.

"Her mother said she had your blessing."

"Her mother needs some way to deal with this.  I'm choosing 
to support that."

"You think she's dead," Mulder challenged, daring him to 
deny it.

Ethan looked down at the sidewalk.  "Does it matter what I 
think?  It doesn't bring her back."

"Don't you even want to know what happened?"

Ethan looked at him -- or through him -- Mulder wasn't sure 
which.  "I keep hoping it was like Patty, that she didn't 
suffer.  Wherever she is, I hope it's beautiful there.  I 
hope she's happy.  I hope she knows I loved her."

"So that's it.  You'll put a headstone on an empty grave 
and call that resolution.  You think that's any kind of 
peace?  There can't be peace without answers, peace without 
justice.  Maybe you can pretend everything is over, but I 
can't live like that."

Ethan tilted his head.  "But you can live like this?  
You'll spend the rest of your life chasing a ghost?  I look 
at you.  I look what happened with your sister and how 
awful that was.  I see you living in tragedy all these 
years later.  Do you really think that's what Dana would 
want?  For you, for me, for any of us?"

"Scully cares about justice.  She cares about the truth!"

Ethan took a long time with his reply.  When he spoke, his 
tone was kind.  "Mulder," he said, "what if this is the 
truth?"

~*~*~

Six days later, Mulder was alone in his apartment when the 
phone rang.  "Hello?" he said dully.

"Fox Mulder?" asked an unfamiliar voice.

Mulder closed his eyes and cut off the sales pitch.  
"Listen, I don't want to change my long distance, okay?  I 
don't need any aluminum siding, and I have sixty-five 
credit cards already."

"Agent Mulder, this is Doctor Valero at Northeast 
Georgetown Medical Center.  You are listed in Dana Scully's 
medical records as her primary emergency contact."

"I am?"  Mulder planted bare feet on the floor.

"Dana Scully was admitted this morning into intensive 
care."

"What?"  Already he began to run.

"Her condition is critical.  I suggest you get here as soon 
as possible."

"I'm coming.  Tell her I'm coming."

~*~*~*~*~

End chapter fifteen.  Continued in chapter sixteen.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 UNIVERSAL INVARIANTS

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

by syntax6

Chapter Sixteen: Range of Motion


Only later, once he had stopped yelling, did the image 
finally register.  Scully lay bloated and bleached in the 
ICU with a half dozen machines surrounding her.  Mulder 
could not name their various functions, but he knew without 
asking that the prognosis had to be bad.  His partner, so 
strong and competent at absolutely everything, now could 
not even breathe on her own.

Her skin looked thin and translucent.  They had placed tape 
over her eyes.  Mulder found this part the most disturbing.  
He wanted to rip off the barriers and force her to see 
again.  Without her clear blue eyes, he couldn't be sure it 
was really Scully.

Her mother sat at her side.  Mulder lingered by the bed, 
reaching out but not quite touching Scully's arm.

"Her memorial was scheduled for tomorrow," Maggie said at 
last, as if he did not already know.  She clasped Scully's 
limp hand as tears welled in her eyes.

From what the doctor had told them, there was a chance the 
service could go on as planned.

"You can't give up yet," Mulder said.  "If we can just find 
out what happened to her..."

"How?" Mrs. Scully looked up at him.  "Dana can't tell us.  
No one here knows anything.  You can't tell me why she 
disappeared and you can't tell me why she's back.  All we 
can do now is what's best for Dana."

Mulder watched Scully's chest rise and fall with the rhythm 
of the machine.  Why, indeed?  Perhaps, if there were 
tests, Scully had failed them.  Perhaps they had tossed her 
back like a fish too small to fry.  Or maybe they had just 
wrung nearly every bit of life from her and sent back the 
remains as a final "fuck you."

We will spare you nothing, was the message.  You can watch 
her die.

Mulder took a steadying breath.  His fingertip grazed the 
inside her arm, teasing the fine, papery skin.  "You can't 
give up hope," he told her mother.

"Someone has to tell Ethan," she said, pulling back and 
wiping her eyes with her hand.  "I haven't had time to call 
him."

"I'll do it."

She looked surprised.  "You?  Really, Fox, I can do it."

"No," he said.  "I should be the one."


Ethan picked up at work.  Mulder had to call around for the 
number, and when Ethan answered he was clearly in the 
middle of some other conversation.  "--just leave the run 
down on my desk.  Yeah.  Minette," he said, finally turning 
his attention to the phone.

"Ethan, it's Fox Mulder."

"Mulder," Ethan said, sounding tired.  "What can I do for 
you?"

"Listen, I'm at the hospital.  Georgetown Medical Center -- 
do you know it?"

"I know it," replied Ethan, distracted now.

"Dana's here."  There was no other way to say it.  No way 
to lessen the shock.  Mulder could feel stunned silence 
weighing on the line.  "She in intensive care," he 
continued.  "I think you should come as soon as you can."

"What happened to her?" Ethan whispered.

"I don't know.  No one knows."

"Someone must have brought her there."

"Someone who didn't want to be found.  Look, I think you 
should get down here."

"I will.  I'm coming.  I just--"

"What?"  Mulder realized he was talking to a man who 
probably had his suit pressed for the funeral tomorrow.

"I just can't believe it."

Mulder wondered what he would say when he saw just how 
slight a miracle it was.  Scully lived, but just barely.

"You knew," Ethan marveled.

"No," Mulder corrected him.  "I hoped."

~*~*~*~

Mulder rounded the curtain and found a different sort of 
redhead.  This one was taller than Scully, dressed more 
like a hippie than a special agent.  She held a crystal 
over Scully as if in prayer.

"I've been told not to call you Fox," she said, turning to 
look at him.

"By who?"

"Dana, just now."

Mulder started forward.  "Dana talked to you just now? If 
she talked, there would be movement on the machines."

"Her soul is here," the woman told him as she held her 
hands over Scully's body.

Sharp footsteps echoed on the hard floor and Maggie Scully 
appeared.

"Hi Mom," Melissa said softly.

"I'm glad you could come, Melissa."

Mulder looked from one to the other.  "You're Scully's 
sister?"

Melissa returned her hands to their original hovering 
position over Scully.  "Dana is choosing whether to remain 
or move on."

Maggie Scully turned on her heel and left in disgust.

"You can feel her right here," Melissa told Mulder, taking 
his arm.

He tentatively held out his hands next to her.  He closed 
his eyes and waited to feel something, anything.  

"She's not here."

"Your anger, your fear is blocking the positive emotions 
she needs to feel."

Mulder gave up.  "I need to do more than just wave my hands 
in the air," he said as he left.

He ran into Ethan in the hallway on the way out.  Ethan's 
hair stood on end and his tie hung loose around his neck.  
He grabbed Mulder at the middle, halting his exit march.  
"Hey, hey.  Where are you going?"

Mulder shook his head.  "There's nothing for me to do here 
right now."

"You know something?  You have a lead?"  Ethan searched him 
with wild eyes, and Mulder wondered if he was about to pick 
up a shadow again.

"Go be with Dana," he said, placing his hands on Ethan's 
shoulders.  "I'll be back in a while."

"I'll go with you."

Mulder eased back in surprise.  "Don't you want to see 
her?"

Ethan couldn't look at him.  "I'm not sure if I can."

"Why not?"

"I don't want her to know..."

He could not seem to finish, swallowing hard in quick 
succession, but Mulder guessed where his thoughts were 
headed.  Scully had been dead for him.  Now she was alive 
with his fingerprints all over her headstone.

"You're here now," Mulder told him.  "That's what she needs 
to know."

Ethan nodded.  "You're right.  You're right."  Bright eyes 
met Mulder's.  "She's down this way?"

"Right down the hall and take a left."

Mulder stood and watched as Ethan shuffled down the long 
corridor, taking baby steps into his brave new world.

~*~*~

Around nine that night, Scully's family made the decision 
to terminate life support according to the criteria Scully 
had laid out in her living will.  She was unresponsive, 
showed little sign of brain activity and her organs were 
failing.

Mulder was not there when they disconnected the machines.

He had signed her will as a witness never believing he 
would have to carry out its terms.  Thirty year-old women 
were not supposed to end up tethered to tubes and wires and 
chirping metal boxes.  He would not witness her death.

Later, he got the call from Ethan.  "She's breathing," he 
said.  "She's breathing on her own."

At the news, Mulder breathed as well.  Scully was not going 
to make her pre-scheduled funeral.

Mulder spent less time at the hospital and more time 
running through parking garages, chasing faceless men with 
Scully's blood on their hands.  Skinner was not impressed 
with his martyr complex.

"We're not the mafia, Agent Mulder.  I know it's easy to 
forget but we work for the department of law and justice."

"That's what I want," Mulder ground out.  

"Agent Scully was a fine officer," answered Skinner, and 
Mulder reeled, shaken from his easy use of the past tense 
to describe Scully. "More than that, I liked her.  I 
respected her.  We all know the field we play in, and we 
all know the potential consequences of the game.  If you 
were unprepared for that, then you shouldn't step on the 
field."

It was the closest Skinner had come to acknowledging the 
smoke-filled conspiracy that stained his inner office.

"What if," Mulder said, and hesitated, "what if I knew the 
potential consequences but I never told her?"

"Then you're as much to blame for her condition as the 
Cancer Man."

Mulder became more reckless then, not exactly suicidal but 
not considering his personal safety either.  He came on 
like the last reel of a John Wayne movie, guns blazing, 
ready to kill or be killed.

Why her? he asked the Smoking Man.  Why her instead of me?

If he died then just maybe she would live. Surely there was 
a law of physics that could make it so.  He would become a 
ghost, an ex X-file, he would be anti-matter to her matter.  
Because Scully always mattered.

X marked the spot: Mulder's apartment at eight-seventeen. 
The men who took Scully from Skyland Mountain would pay him 
an arranged visit, and Mulder was free to defend himself 
with "terminal intensity."

He could have bloodshed but no answers.  

He would burn like Rome and disappear like Atlantis.  
Whatever it took to bring them down, whatever price he had 
to pay, Mulder would take the hit.

This was his living will.  And he bequeathed vengeance. 

~*~*~

Mulder walked through his apartment turning off the lights 
one by one until he moved in total darkness.  Dressed in 
black, he faded into the shadows with his gun.   It felt 
smooth and heavy as a stone, cold metal turned white-hot 
from his fevered skin.  Mulder set it on the table and 
watched the glint of light from its shining barrel.

In the silence, he could hear his clock ticking down the 
seconds.  Mulder waited, poised to kill.

He jumped a mile when someone knocked.  The clock read 
seven-oh-nine, which was way too soon.  But who could trust 
hired goons to be punctual?  Heart thudding against his 
ribs, Mulder opened the door a few inches and looked out 
into the hall.

Scully's taller, flakier sister was standing there.  Mulder 
looked behind her for any men in black.

"Sorry. I came by," she said. "You weren't answering and 
your machine wasn't on. Can I come in?"

Mulder just stared at her.

"For a second?"  Mulder relented and let her into his 
apartment.  "Why is it so dark in here?" she asked.

"Because the lights aren't on," Mulder answered, mindful of 
the time.

"Okay. I just came from the hospital. Dr. Daly says she's
 weakening. It could be anytime. So I figured you'd want 
to come down and see her."

"No, I can't."

Scully's sister blinked at him.  "Well, I'd think that you 
would."

"Yeah, I would. I can't, not right now."

This woman did not understand.  Scully had plenty of people 
to stand around her bedside, weeping.  Only he could avenge 
her.

"Listen," Melissa said, getting right up in his face, "I 
don't have to be psychic to see that you're in a very dark 
place... much darker than where my sister is. Willingly 
walking deeper into darkness cannot help her at all. Only 
the light..."

"Enough with the harmonic convergence crap, okay? You're 
not saying anything to me."

"Why don't you just drop your cynicism and your paranoia 
and your defeat. You know, just because it's positive and 
good doesn't make it silly or trite! Why is it so much 
easier for you to run around trying to get even than just 
expressing to her how you feel? I expect more from you. 
Dana expects more."


She unlatched the door in a quick, angry motion.

"Even if it doesn't bring her back, at least she'll know. 
And so will you."

~*~*~*~

Mulder felt a little like a mole testing the sunshine as he 
walked into the bright hospital waiting room.  Melissa's 
mouth curved into a slight smile but she lowered her gaze 
to magazine in her lap.  Maggie looked exhausted. 
 
Strangely, the one most glad to see him was Ethan, who 
leapt to his feet. "Mulder, hey."  His shirttails out, tie 
long gone, and two days' growth of beard shadowing his 
chin, Ethan looked more like a back alley bum than a 
national news correspondent.

"Ethan," Mulder said shortly, nodding at him.  That was 
enough greeting for him, but Ethan shook his hand and 
pulled him closer.

"Glad you could make it."

"How is she?"

"Not good.  The doctors are telling us it could be hours, 
could be days.  The waiting is making me insane, you know?"  
He lowered his voice.  "Listen, I wanted to ask you -- in 
your work, did you ever find out anything about whether 
Dana is likely to be able to hear us?"

Mulder lowered his voice too.  "You mean from out here?"
"No, from her coma.  Her sister keeps going on about souls 
and how Dana is here with us listening to everything we 
say."

Mulder made eye contact with Melissa, who gave him a little 
wave.  "What do you think?" he asked Ethan.

Ethan faltered.  "I-- sometimes I think I can feel her.  
But I've had thirty-two cups of coffee in two days.  I'd 
hate to think I'm just talking to the caffeine."

Mulder figured Ethan had just summed up everyone's worst 
fears about religion. 

Ethan watched Mulder's face carefully.  "What do you 
think?" he asked.

"I think," Mulder said, trying to decide what he thought.  
He touched Ethan's slumping shoulder.  "I think, whether or 
not she hears the words, at least you got to say them."

Ethan thought this over a moment and then nodded.  He 
patted Mulder on the back a few times and returned to his 
slouch on the sofa.  Mulder locked eyes with Maggie Scully, 
who gave him a sympathetic look before leading him with her 
gaze to the ICU.  Mulder acknowledged her with a short dip 
of his head.   It was time for him to have his say.

When he went to sit with Scully, the first thing he noticed 
was how much quieter it was with all the machines turned 
off.  Scully was laid out as if already dead, totally 
uncovered.  He looked but could not even detect the faint 
rise-and-fall of her chest.

Mulder dragged the chair closer and took a seat.  After a 
moment, he reached for her hand, which was cool and soft in 
his.

His voice wavered as he spoke. "I feel, Scully... that you 
believe... you're not ready to go. And you've always had 
the strength of your beliefs. I don't know if my being 
here... will help bring you back. But I'm here."

The time was eight-seventeen.

~*~

Mulder waited all night, doing hard time in the chair until 
his knees locked.  Family and doctors floated by but 
Scully's condition remained unchanged.  

Melissa entered just before two in the morning and 
performed her personal assessment with the crystal.  
"Dana's worried about you," she said with her eyes closed.

Mulder sat up, blinking to force himself to attention.  
"What?"

"She's worried you'll be left alone again with no one to 
watch out for you."  Melissa opened her eyes and looked 
right at him.  "She's afraid to leave."

Mulder stared at the empty space between Melissa's hands 
and Scully's body, as if he could conjure up Scully's soul 
like a genie swirling from an ancient lamp.

"She won't leave unless you say it's okay," Melissa said as 
she lowered her hands to her sides again.

"It's not okay," Mulder shot back in an angry whisper.  "As 
her sister, I don't know how you can ever think it would be 
okay."

Melissa shook her head sadly.  "Is this what you want for 
her?  You want her to linger endlessly in this room with no 
windows, no sunshine?  They've disconnected the feeding 
tube, Mulder.  She's now going to starve along with 
everything else that has happened to her."

Mulder held his head in his hands.  Skinner had blamed him 
for Scully's life; Melissa wanted to make him responsible 
for her death.

"I can't," he said, his voice cracking.

He squeezed his eyes closed, heard the blood rushing in his 
ears.  Melissa touched his shoulder briefly before leaving 
the room.

Mulder sat for five more hours, watching Scully for any 
sign of improvement.  He memorized the angle of her nose 
and the curve of her ear.  He stroked the inside of her 
wrist with one fingertip.

Just past seven, he hoisted himself like an old man from 
the chair.  His throat closed off; he could not say the 
words.

He reached down and squeezed Scully's hand hard, the way he 
had challenged her with a forceful handshake in the 
basement that first day a year ago.  Then he released her 
with a reassuring pat.  

And, without a last look back, Mulder left.

~*~*~

For Scully, it was like being born again.  She came from 
nothingness into a bright, noisy world that smelled like 
skinned knees and Clorox.  Voices murmured around her but 
she could not make out what they were saying.  She could 
not move.

Scully blinked at the white, blank-slate ceiling and tried 
to put a name to this place.  She wondered briefly if she 
had died, if heaven was like earth with the volume turned 
way up.  Part of her wanted to crawl back to the darkness 
and make it go away.

A woman came over, someone Scully did not recognize, and 
peered down at her.  "Call Dr. Daly," she said sharply.

Doctor, Scully thought.  I am a doctor.

A few minutes later there was another face, this one lined 
with worry and bathed in tears of joy.  Scully smiled.  
"Mom."

~*~~*~

Mulder sat in the disarray of his apartment, life literally 
in shambles at his feet.  The men who kidnapped Scully had 
come and gone, scattering like cockroaches in the sun, and 
Mulder knew he would never find them again.

He was exhausted from his toes to the roots of his hair, 
but he could not sleep.  He hung in limbo like Scully and 
waited for word of his fate.

When it came, he almost couldn't answer the call.  His 
machine picked up.  Mulder grabbed the phone at the last 
minute.  He did not want Scully's family to have to tell 
his machine that she had died.

"I'm here," he said.

"Fox," said Maggie, her voice clogged with tears.  Mulder 
braced himself for the news.  "Dana's awake.  She's awake 
and she's okay."

A smile spread across his face like dawn.  "I'm on my way," 
he told her.

Mulder stood up, ran his hand through his hair, and tried 
to think what to bring.  He grabbed his jacket, her cross, 
and at the last second, he popped Ethan's tape out of the 
VCR and stuck it in the nearest sleeve.

She would watch it and she would understand.

Outside, fall greeted him with a stiff breeze and scraggly, 
waving tree branches.  Morning sunshine bore down like 
Hollywood lights and the sky was so blue it hurt to look 
at.

Mulder stopped to squint up, imagining earth from far away 
- a shiny blue jewel spinning, spinning through space as 
five billion nobodies went about their short little lives.

"Thanks," he said.

~*~*~

The hospital staff moved her to a private room filled with 
soft color and sunlight.  Scully fiddled with the edge of 
the sheet as she waited for the doctor and tried to make 
sense of her situation.  She was in the hospital, had been 
critically ill; this much was clear.  Her arms and legs 
felt weak, and she grew dizzy if she moved her head too 
fast.

Scully reached for her glass of water and sipped through a 
straw.  She noted needle marks on both hands.  Her throat 
was raw and sore.   Clearly she had been intubated at some 
point.

There was a soft knock on the door, and Scully set the 
water aside and leaned back against the pillows.  "Come 
in," she said as loudly as she could.

Ethan poked his head into the room.  "Hi," he said, giving 
her a shy smile.  "Remember me?"

"Of course."  But her heart started beating crazily as he 
entered the room.  She remembered him but many other things 
remained unclear.  The last image she could recall with 
certainty was Duane Barry's face as he locked her in the 
trunk of a car.  Her car?  His?  She could not be sure.

Her brain had filled up with water and her memories all 
sloshed together in a thick, muddy soup.  

Ethan sat on the bed near her hip.  "How are you feeling?"

He spoke in the same, careful tone the nurses had used, 
like she was a recently captured circus freak.  Scully's 
hands went to her face.  "I'm fine, I think."  She felt her 
cool forehead, her smooth cheeks, and her small pointed 
chin.  Nothing seemed out of place, but Ethan was still 
having a hard time looking at her.  "Do you have a mirror?"

Surprise, then worry, flashed in his eyes.  "A mirror?  No.  
Why?"

"I'd like to see a mirror, please."

"Dana..."

"Now," she said, growing more frantic.

"Okay, shhh."  He touched her knee through the blankets.  
"I'll find a mirror, okay?  Just take it easy."  He ducked 
into her bathroom and out again.  "I'll be right back."

A few minutes later he returned with a blue plastic hand 
mirror, which he gave to her.  "See?" he said as she 
flipped it over to look at herself.  "You're okay."

Relief tumbled over her like an avalanche.  Pale though she 
was, her skin showed no scarring or other signs of 
disfigurement.  She set the mirror in her lap and gave 
Ethan a sheepish smile.  "I'm sorry.  Everyone has been so 
cautious with me, like there's something they haven't 
wanted to say.  I think I just panicked a little."

There was that look again.  "Understandable.  You've been 
through a lot."

Scully watched his face closely.  "But there is something 
you're not telling me."

"I haven't told you I love you," he said, squeezing her 
free hand.  "Not today."

Scully barely heard him.  A sudden thought had her grabbing 
for the mirror again.  "My hair," she said, touching the 
ends.  "It's so long.  When did it get so long?"

Ethan avoided her eyes.

"How long have I been here?" she asked.  "Ethan?  The 
doctor told me it was only a few days!"

"He didn't lie.  You've been in the hospital since Monday.  
Today is Thursday."

"Ethan..."

"You were missing," he said softly.  He looked at her.  
"For a long time."

"How long?"

He swallowed.  "Months.  Since May."

 "That's not possible."

"Sweetheart, listen to me..."

"No, I don't understand." She heard the hard edge of fear 
in her voice.  "What do you mean I was missing?  What 
happened?  Where was I?"  

"We don't know."  He rubbed her leg.  "Someone brought you 
here Monday in critical condition and that's all we can 
figure out right now.  Mulder might be able to tell you 
more."

"Duane Barry?"

Ethan bowed his head.  "He's dead, killed in police 
custody."

Scully let that sink in for a minute.  "Mulder...?"

"No," he told her quickly.  "Not Mulder."

"Is he okay?"

"He's just fine.  Your mom said he's coming to see you 
soon."  He smiled at her brightly, as if to distract her 
like a toddler with a shiny object.  "We're all just so 
glad you're okay."

He felt alien in her arms, misshapen and hot, like they 
didn't quite fit.  Scully could not breathe.  She knew 
herself.  She was a serious, dependable person.  She took 
notes and worked hard.  She had been born on her exact due 
date and had been meeting every expectation ever since.  
This person he was telling her about, this Dana Scully who 
vanished from the Earth for months at a time, this was 
someone else.

She wrested free from Ethan and reached for her water.  
This time she bypassed the straw and drank it down in long 
gulps.

"I have something for you," Ethan said when she finally 
stopped drinking.

Scully watched warily as he withdrew a diamond ring from 
his pocket.  He put it in his palm and extended it to her.

She remembered saying yes.  She remembered putting it on.  
But as she stared down at the sparkling gem, she wondered 
why in the world she had taken it off.

~*~*~*~

Mulder hurried down the shiny floor of the hallway to 
Scully's new room, a thousand words stuck in his throat.  
Scully was always the one who needed to see the proof to 
believe, but this time Mulder wanted hard evidence.  He 
wanted to see her, hear her, feel her.  Only then could it 
be real.

He reached the door and drew to a quick halt.  Scully lay 
inside, but her mother and her sister appeared to be with 
her.  So much for a private reunion.

Mulder clutched the bag with his video in it and gamely 
entered the room.

Maggie gave him a warm smile in greeting.  "Hello, Fox."
Scully laughed and turned to look at him.  "Not Fox, 
Mulder." 

Mulder knew he was standing there grinning stupidly but he 
could not help it.  He tried to hide behind his baggie as 
he willed his mouth to say something.  "How you feeling?"

"Mulder, I don't remember anything... after Duane Barry..."

"Doesn't... doesn't matter."

Scully sighed, and he held up the bag.  "Brought you a 
present."  He pulled out the tape Ethan made, which was now 
well camouflaged.  With her mother and sister openly 
listening to every word they said, he was just as glad.  He 
smiled and gave Scully the tape.  "Superstars of the Super 
Bowl."

"I knew there was a reason to live," Scully said as she 
eyed the cover.

 Melissa and Mrs. Scully made no move to leave.  Mulder 
waited another beat and then gave up for the moment.  "I 
know you want to get some rest, I... just came by to see... 
how you were doing and say hi."He held her hand, which was 
reassuringly warm. 

"Mulder?" she said as he turned to leave. Mulder waited.
"I had the strength of your beliefs."

Warmth spread over the back of his neck and tickled his 
ears.  He nodded and dug in his pocket for the delicate 
gold chain he'd been carrying around with him for over 
three months.  "I was holding this for you," he explained, 
reaching out to give her the cross.

Scully studied it solemnly.  "Thanks."

Mulder smiled.  Everything else could wait.

~*~*~

Melissa came to tuck her in before going home for the 
night.  "I can't believe you're not exhausted," she said, 
brushing Scully's hair from her eyes.

Scully was exhausted.  She was afraid if she went to sleep 
she might wake up in the year 2000, if she woke up at all.

"I've been sleeping for the past few days," she said 
lightly.  "Now I'm making up for lost time."

Sadness crept into Melissa's smile at the words, and she 
squeezed Scully's hands in both of hers.  "You're stronger 
than you know," she said.  "Remember that."

"The strange thing is, I feel pretty much the same.  
Everyone else seems different."

Melissa arched an eyebrow.  "Everyone?"

"You'll never change," Scully answered with affection.  
"It's just... I don't know.  I feel like I woke up from one 
very long dream, like no time has passed, but everyone else 
has moved on to this new world where I was dead and then 
alive again.  Everyone walks on eggshells around me."

"You scared us.  All of us.  It's going to take time for 
that fear to fade."  Melissa stroked her arm.  "Tell me -- 
what did you dream?  While you were gone?"

Scully coiled back.  "Why?"

"Dana, you were on the other side.  You could see what none 
of us can see."

The images were there, fragments of her dream.  She saw 
large gray heads with oil-slick eyes and heard the whine of 
a dentist's drill.  She heard herself screaming but no 
sound seemed to come out.  The light blinded her and Duane 
Barry's hysterical laughter echoed through her head.

Sometimes, she caught other glimpses.  She was in the front 
seat of a car with Mulder on some dark street, sharing bad 
coffee and late night talk radio.  Once she thought she was 
making love to him in a jungle.  The feel of him moving 
over her, inside of her, seemed so real she had a hard time 
making eye contact when he dropped by to see her that day.

But she also had the strong feeling she had been pregnant.  
This was clearly wrong because the doctors would have 
noticed if she had given birth.  Still, Scully caught 
herself touching her belly and wondering why it felt so 
empty.

She opened her mouth to speak, and Melissa leaned closer, 
watching her intently with expectant, shining eyes.  "I 
don't know what to say," Scully whispered.

Melissa tried to hide her disappointment.  "Sweetie, forget 
about it.  I'm sorry for pushing."

The rational scientist in Scully knew her hazy journey was 
probably nothing more than a random firing of synapses, her 
brain's dying gasp as it sputtered out all her hopes and 
fears and dreams.

"It's... peaceful," she stammered, and Melissa lowered 
herself to the bed again.

"Dana, I just want to know... was Daddy there?  Did you see 
Daddy?"

Scully smiled through her tears and grabbed her sister's 
hands.  "He's there," she told her, and the two sisters 
held each other tight.

~*~*~

Mulder was snoozing in front of the TV when his cell phone 
rang.  The lighted display read after midnight.  It also 
said, "Georgetown Medical Center."

"Mulder," he said, putting his feet up on the coffee table.

"Mulder, it's me."

Mulder smiled and held the phone closer to his ear.  For 
months, it had sat near-silent in his pocket.  He hadn't 
even realized how much he'd missed these late-night 
conversations with her until he heard her roughened voice 
on the line.  "Scully, how are you?"

"I'm okay.  I can't sleep."

"You want some company?  I can be there in half an hour."

"Mulder, it's late.  You don't need to come all the way 
down here."

"I already have my shoes on," he lied.

"It's past visiting hours."

"Yeah, but you're official FBI business, Scully."  He could 
swear he heard her smile.  Mulder shoved his feet into his 
sneakers and reached for his leather jacket.  "You want me 
to bring anything?"

She considered.  "Ice cream."

Mulder arrived at the hospital forty-five minutes later, 
carrying a half-gallon of chocolate chip ice cream and a 
box of plastic spoons.  He knocked softly just in case 
Scully was asleep, but she sat up and beckoned him inside 
the room.  "Hey," he said, still wearing his stupid grin.  
"I got a rush order for some ice cream?"

"Hi," Scully answered as she tucked her hair behind both 
ears.  "Thanks for coming."

He pulled the chair alongside her bed and set the ice cream 
between them.  Scully removed the lid, licking a stray bit 
from her thumb while he opened the spoons.

He held up his spoon to hers.  "Cheers."  

Scully took the first bite, and a slow smile spread across 
her face as she tasted combination of cold vanilla and dark 
chocolate.  "This is just what I wanted.  Thank you."

"Hospital food not getting it done for you?"

"The creamed spinach here is enough to make one want to go 
back to eating through a tube."  Mulder put his spoon down, 
and she looked at him.  "It's a joke, Mulder."

"Yeah."  He forced a smile.  "Joke."

But the light moment had died, and there they sat each 
clutching a spoon and not saying anything.

"I want you to know," he managed finally, "that I did 
everything I could."

"I know you did," she replied, too quickly.  She wanted him 
to stop talking, he knew, but he could not stop yet.

"I wish I could have done more.  I wish I could have 
stopped him--"

"Mulder."  She waited until he looked at her. "It's not 
your fault.  I don't blame you."

"Maybe you should."

She shook her head slowly back and forth, her gaze clear 
and calm.  Mulder took a deep breath.

"Scully."  He had to explain even if she hated him for it.  
"You never believed.  I knew that.  I should have tried 
harder to make you understand what kind of people we're 
dealing with here, to let you know what can happen."

Her brow furrowed.  "Duane Barry was an escaped mental 
patient, Mulder.  His illness was not your fault."

"Scully, Duane Barry died."

"I know.  Ethan told me."  She smoothed the blankets over 
her lap.  She still wasn't hearing him.

"He died the night you disappeared, Scully.  He's not 
responsible for what happened to you.  Well, maybe 
indirectly, but there were far more insidious plans at work 
here."

"Plans?  He was a homicidal maniac."

"Someone gave him your address."

Fear clouded her eyes, and he felt like a monster.  She was 
barely out of a coma and here he was scaring her half to 
death again.  But she had to understand.  He could not make 
the same mistake twice.

"The smoking man warned me," Mulder told her softly.  
"Right before it happened, he came to see me and said there 
would be consequences."

"Consequences to what?"  The question seemed to pain her, 
but she asked it anyway.  He didn't think he had ever loved 
her more.

Mulder leaned closer.  "To our partnership.  To getting 
closer to the truth and exposing these men for what they 
are."  He paused, suddenly uncertain.  "Maybe...maybe to 
what happened in Arecibo."

"What happened in Arecibo?"

Mulder jerked upright.  "What?"

"I said what happened in Arecibo?"

He rocked his chair back and ran a hand through his hair.

"Mulder?"

"Uh, you don't remember being in Arecibo?"

She seemed to search herself.  "An observatory, maybe?  
Were we at an observatory?  I'm sorry, Mulder, but some 
things are very hazy for me now."

Mulder's heart was pounding in his ears.  He felt light-
headed; his tongue swelled in his mouth.  He had no 
freaking clue what the protocol was here.

"Yes," he said at last.  "We were at the observatory."

"What happened?"

"Nothing."

"Mulder?  I don't understand."

He set his chair down with a jolt.  "The usual business.  
We got chased by men with guns but ended up with no hard 
proof."  He stared at her for a long minute.  "You really 
don't remember?"

"I--I'm trying."  She was getting upset again. 

"Forget about it," he said, but the words came out more 
angrily than he intended.  "It doesn't matter now."

"I'm sorry," she said, tears in her throat.  "I keep trying 
to figure out what was real and what's not and what's 
happened to me."

"Hey, it's all right."  Mulder was instantly contrite.  
"It's okay."  He squeezed her hand and tried to sound 
encouraging.  "You're home safe now, and that's what 
matters, right?  That's the only thing that matters."

She blinked rapidly and sniffed, but she still would not 
look at him.  Horrible as it was, he was trying to think of 
a reason to leave.  He had no idea what to say to her and 
he was afraid if he stayed he would only make things worse.

Scully composed herself and put the lid back on the ice 
cream.  "The doctor says my memories might come back."

"Sure.  Sure they will."

Her right hand started shaking.  He grabbed it and held on 
tight, stilling her tremor.

"That's been happening on and off," she told him.  "My 
muscles are somewhat weak."

"I'm sorry, Scully."

"You know, it's funny how the motor system works," she 
said, her gaze still on their joined hands.  "It's a 
release of inhibition that governs most of our movement.  
Did you know that?" 

He shook his head.

"It's true.  Your body would shake and flail around if not 
for the brain putting on a constant brake.  When you move, 
the brain takes off just the tiniest bit of control.  It's 
amazing how the smallest amount of release allows us to 
run, to paint pictures, to perform open heart surgery."

She turned over their hands.

"I've lived my life like that.  I've spent so much time 
under the brake.  Everyone else set the rules, and I just 
knuckled under.  Maybe I never really wanted out.  Until 
now."

She looked at him.

"Until I met you."

Mulder gave her a half-smile, which she returned.  He 
squeezed her hand tightly once more and then released her.  
Her hand started trembling again but she made no effort to 
stop it.

"Night, Scully."

She was settling back down under the covers, eyes already 
drifting shut.  "Night."

~*~*~

The dread in her stomach started the minute Ethan appeared 
to take her home.  This isn't working.  You have to tell 
him.

He kissed her cheek and took her overnight bag, her 
flowers, and even the videotape from Mulder.  "Hey, 
beautiful," he said.  "Going my way?"

"You really didn't have to take off work to come down 
here," she said with a frown.

"Of course I did.  You ready to go home?"

Home.  She could not believe how long it had been since 
she'd been there.  "Yes," she said, clearing her throat.  
"Please."

"I haven't touched anything," he assured her on the way 
back.  "I didn't even throw out that horrible green vase."

Scully did not answer.  Tell him, she thought.  Tell him 
now.

"Dana?"

"Hmm?"

"You okay?"

"I'm fine," she said, trying to smile.  She looked down at 
her hands twisting her in lap.  Her naked ring finger 
mocked her: coward.

I took it off once, she told herself.  

Ethan parked the car and helped her into the house.  Scully 
stopped just inside the door, staring at the familiar 
walls.  Duane Barry had been here.  She felt him even 
though she could not remember the encounter.

"I'll put your things in the bedroom," Ethan said, brushing 
passed her.  "You just rest."

Scully walked around her living room, touching her clock, 
her papers, her books.  

"Where do you want this?" Ethan asked as he returned.  He 
waved Mulder's Superstars tape at her. 

"Um, in the drawer in the TV cabinet, I guess."

"You hungry?" Ethan asked.  "I can make sandwiches."

God, how was she supposed to say the words?  Scully backed 
up to the wall and watched him walk to the kitchen.  He was 
more comfortable here than she was.  It was his home.

Her heart beat faster.  Her throat went dry.

"We've got turkey or roast beef," Ethan called.

Tell him.  You have to tell him.  Scully squeezed her eyes 
shut and tried not to vomit.

When she did not answer him, Ethan stuck his head back into 
the room.  "Dana?  Are you all right?"

"This isn't working," she blurted.

Ethan's brown eyes, so warm and familiar, filled with 
concern.  He crossed the room and touched her arm.  "You 
should come sit down and take it easy."

"No," Scully said, shrugging him off.  "Ethan..."

"Is it the pain?  Do you need your pills?"  He was already 
heading for her bag again.

"Ethan!"

He stopped and turned around.  "What?"

"I need... I need to talk to you."  All of a sudden, she 
did want to sit down.  It was that or risk passing out.

Ethan joined her on the sofa.  "What is it?"

Again, Scully stumbled over the words.  "You are being so 
nice," she said sadly.  "You really are, and I appreciate 
it so much."

"I love you."  He rubbed her arm affectionately.  "You've 
been through a lot."

He was not making this easy.  Hell, it was never going to 
be easy.  Scully sucked in a fresh breath and tried to work 
up her nerve.  You took off the ring, she told herself.  
You had a reason.

"This is hard to say," she began.  "Especially now.  I just 
think if I waited any longer it would just get more 
difficult."

"What?  What in the world could be this awful?"

She took his ring out and handed it back to him.  "I can't 
marry you."

Ethan looked down at the diamond glinting in his palm.  "Of 
course not.  Not right now.  We can reschedule for anytime 
you want.  Right now you just need to rest and get your 
strength back up."

"No, I mean I can't marry you."

Realization dawned and he looked stunned.  Scully felt her 
chin tremble and worked to get control.  It wasn't fair to 
Ethan to have her sobbing through this conversation.

"I'm sorry," she whispered.  "I really am."

Ethan shifted on the couch.  "Dana, I know you've been 
through a lot.  You just got out of the hospital.  You need 
time."

"No."

Ethan closed his fingers over the ring.  "It's too soon," 
he repeated.

No.  It's too late, Scully thought.  She swallowed the lump 
in her throat.  "I am so, so sorry, Ethan.  You are the 
last person I ever wanted to hurt."

"Why?" he demanded.  "Tell me why."

Scully struggled to explain.  "The person you gave that 
ring to, she doesn't exist."

"That's exactly why we should wait.  Of course you feel not 
like yourself right now.  But you're home now.  Give it 
time."

"I don't need time.  This isn't about what happened to me."

"Of course it is."

"No, it's not.  Ethan, I care about you.  That's why I'm 
doing this now."

"Oh, don't give me that crap.  Give me something more 
besides the old it's-not-you-it's-me hoary chestnut."

"I'm just trying to give you the truth," answered Scully 
miserably.

"Is it Mulder?" he asked with sudden venom.

Scully balked.  "Mulder?"

"It is Mulder, isn't it."

"No," she said, sounding unsure.

"God." He stood up and began pacing.  "He'll never love you 
more than aliens.  You know that, right?"

"This isn't about Mulder.  Not like you think."

"Oh?  Tell me how it is, then."

Scully rubbed her eyes.  "You want a house outside the 
city," she said.  "You want two kids and a pool and 
barbecues on the weekends.  When I met you, I wanted that 
too."

"But now you want aliens.  Is that what you're telling me?"

She looked at him, pleading with her eyes to understand. "I 
was gone for almost four months," she said.  Her voice was 
unsteady.  "No one can tell me what happened.  Not you.  
Not the police.  Not the doctors.  Someone was holding me 
captive, doing God knows what, and I have no memory of who 
or why."

"This is what I was saying," he said as he moved toward 
her.  He knelt in front of her.  "You've been through hell.  
You shouldn't be making these kinds of decisions right 
now."

"I made it before."

From the look that flashed across his features, she knew he 
understood immediately what she was talking about.  His 
hands dropped away from her knees.  Defeated, he sat back 
on his haunches.

"I wondered about that."

"You deserve the life you wanted," she told him quietly.  
"I don't think I can give it to you."

"You're what I want."

She shook her head.  "For now, maybe.  But a year from now, 
when I have to go out of town for the third time in three 
weeks?  That house, that pool, those kids -- Ethan, you 
need someone there to share them with you."

"I can't believe," he said, "that after everything that's 
happened, that you still want to work on the X-Files."

"That's just it.  Now more than ever."

"Mulder doesn't know what happened to you either," Ethan 
said petulantly.

"No.  But I think, if anyone, he can help me find the 
answers."

~*~*~

Gray November drizzle trickled down the basement windows as 
Mulder sat at his computer playing his six hundred 
thousandth game of Mine Sweeper.  He started the 
conversation in his head several times.

"Scully, about Arecibo.  After the men with guns chased us, 
we had sex."

"Scully, you probably should know that we've seen each 
other naked. Did I mention I have a photographic memory?"

"Scully?  We went to the jungle and made hot monkey love."

Mulder turned his chair around in disgust.  The sex was so 
great she totally forgot about it, he told himself.  She 
remembers a giant flukeworm but not you.

The sound of heels in the hallway made him sit up.  To his 
surprise, Scully appeared.  "At least I still remember 
where the office is," she said.  "That's something."

And the sex? Mulder asked mentally.  Not even a glimmer?

"You shouldn't be here," he said aloud.  "You don't want to 
rush things, Scully.  Take all the time you need."

Scully ignored him.  "What are you working on?"  She turned 
the top file around before he could snatch it away.  Dana 
K. Scully, it read.

Scully flipped open the cover and read the contents 
silently.

"Looks like the trail's gone cold," she remarked with 
clinical detachment.

"For now.  But at least there's a happy ending."  Their 
eyes met and he smiled.

She sat on the edge of his desk with the folder braced in 
her lap.  "You should probably know," she said, "Ethan and 
I broke up."

Mulder tried not to fall out of his chair.  She remembers, 
he thought.  "Oh?"

"Yeah."  She traced the smooth edge of the wood by her hip.  
"I think I did the right thing."

"But you're not sure?"

"I'm pretty sure."  She hesitated a long time.  "I'm 
missing so much right now.  I keep wondering - what if two 
months from now, I remember that I love him?"

"Why risk it, then?  You have time."

She shook her head.  "I took off the ring," she said.

"Excuse me?"

She held out her naked hand.  "The engagement ring. I took 
it off before I... before.  I think that would be worse, 
you know?  Staying and then remembering suddenly why."

Mulder choked.  "Yeah," he croaked out, reaching for his 
coffee. 

"Mulder..." she said after a long minute.

"Yeah?"

"Never mind."  Her cheeks colored.  "Forget it."

"No, what?"

"It's nothing."  Scully hopped down from the desk and held 
out the folder.  "What happens to this now?"

"I think that's up to you," he replied, looking past her to 
their filing cabinets.  One half was labeled "open" and the 
other side was marked "closed."

Scully tapped the folder on her palm, considering. Finally, 
she crossed to the "open" cabinets and slipped her case 
file into the appropriate drawer.

"Okay," she said, drawing a long breath as she turned to 
face him.  "What's next?"

~*~*~*~*~

An End.