From: ldyducatnp@aol.com (LdyDucatnp)
Newsgroups: alt.tv.x-files.creative
Subject: New Story - "Crash" 1/12
Date: 18 May 1996 17:39:11 -0400


Well, I've never posted to the ATXC before, and I don't spend much time
here, but a friend talked me into posting this story I and another friend
penned a while ago here for your scrutiny.  Here's hoping it works...... 
=/!
	Anyway, here's the disclaimer... we know how you love these
things.  The X-Files, Mulder and Scully belong to Chris Carter, to whom we
must all pay homage to daily by giving blood sacrifices.  Also, if anyone
does actually want to resend this story elsewhere (stranger things have
happened), please just keep our names as authors attached to this, and
don't sell this for money..... unless we get a cut too!  =)    
	But, to wrap this part up -- we hope you enjoy reading this almost
as much as we did writing it.  We both look forward to any comments,
criticisms (be gentle - this *is* our first joint venture!), or, heck,
even death threats - just be creative!!  =)  Be warned, however -- this
story is *not* for the faint-of-romance!  Sorry, non-relationshippers!! 
Nothing graphic, but still kinda mushy in some parts!  If you do feel like
letting us know what you thought of our 'little epic', please do!  Our
addresses are listed right after the title - please don't post here, we
won't see it.
	Finished : 2/11/96     Submitted to the ATXC : 5/19/96

And now (finally) may we (albeit a bit nervously) present for your
consideration :


==================================
"Crash" (1/12)
By Kerry Gallo (xasj82c@prodigy.com)
and Sarah Roby (LadyDucatnip@prodigy.com)
==================================



		             	        -= Chapter One =-


	Dana Scully gazed silently out the window of the small passenger
plane.  Her eyes absorbed the gray fog drifting over the Rocky Mountains,
the cliffs and rivers, the forests, filled with tall evergreen trees.  The
plane was flying fairly low, so low she could almost see the individual
branches and needles on the trees.  
She was relaxed and calm, pleased that they were finally through with
their latest case.  It had been stressful; young children were being
murdered and dismembered near a small Oregon town, their bodies dumped in
a small lake, and it had hit both her and Mulder hard.  The killers proved
to be several Satanists, and they were arrested after a brief chase and
struggle.  Scully was satisfied that the killers would hurt no more
children, but she could still remember the grief on the faces of the
parents whose children were killed.  It was something she'd never forget.
  But now, she was content as she looked out at the mountains below her. 
She and her partner had got the bad guys, and now they could go home,
secure in the knowledge that they'd probably saved the lives of other
innocent children.  She was pleased that they'd soon be home in DC,
relaxing for the next few days.  
The small plane was only meant for about six or seven passengers, and
their pilot was a young, tough-looking man named Riffman. Most of the
flights out of Oregon had been canceled because of an oncoming storm, but
Riffman had met them at the airport and offered to fly them to Dallas,
where they could catch a flight to DC.
  Scully had been worried about the storm, which the weather forecasters
said would be severe, but Riffman assured them he'd steer clear of it.
  Scully looked away from the window and at her partner, who sat beside
her.  
Mulder was staring off into space, or so it seemed.  Only a person who
really knew him well, like her, could tell when he was pondering
something, and when he was just spacing out.  Right now she could see he
was thinking, and thought it best not to disturb his train of thought. 
She used the opportunity to look at him, something she did not often have
a chance to do.  
The case had left it's mark, deepening the worry lines in his forehead,
but they had smoothed out considerably since the Satanists responsible for
the murders had been caught.  He'd been very distressed at the sight of
the small two-and-three-year-old children cut up so brutally. She was
happy that the cult members were caught, or Mulder would blame himself if
any more children died.  
She was considering this when he spoke suddenly.

	"Scully," He said, in a hushed voice, "Does the sky seem suddenly
darker to you?"  
Scully looked back at the window and was a little alarmed to see that,
indeed, the sky had darkened and ominous snow clouds had rolled in.
  She nodded. 
	"It must be that snowstorm we heard about..." She met his eyes
uneasily.  
Mulder cleared his throat and stood up. 
	"Riffman?" He called out to the pilot, who was at the controls
just beyond the next row of seats.
	
"Yeah, man?"  The pilot called back, a Californian accent obvious.

	"I- ah- I thought you were going to steer away from  the
storm...?" Mulder asked hesitantly.
	
"Oh, yeah, man, I'm tryin', but see, it kinda changed directions...
blowin' towards the northeast now, man," Riffman answered.  Scully felt
sudden worry clamp her heart. 
	"Will it hit us?" She asked, standing up next to Mulder, who
looked down at her worriedly.
	
"Ahh...uhh...I don't think so, man. Well- actually, yeah, it probably
will... guess I got in over my head...But don't worry, man. We'll be
okay."  Riffman turned around, his brown eyes obviously worried, and
Scully could see then that they'd gotten themselves in a hell of a lot of
trouble.
  Mulder looked like he didn't believe what their pilot was saying, so she
spoke up.

	"But you said we'd be all right, that you'd be able to steer away
from it..."  
Riffman shrugged and turned back to the controls. 
	"Don't worry, I'll take care of this..." Scully heard him mutter
something like a prayer under his breath, and sat back down with a heavy
sigh.
	
"Mulder, tell me this isn't happening..." She began, but stopped.  The sky
was almost black now.

	"My God," He said softly, sitting down in the blue, stiff plane
seat.  "It was so clear a few minutes ago..."  
Suddenly something seemed to strike the small plane with the force of a
giant fist from the left, and Scully was knocked over onto Mulder, who
fell into the aisle.  She lost her balance and went tumbling after him,
landing on top of him with her knee in a precarious spot.
	
"Ow- Scully!" He cried, wincing. 

	"Oh, God, sorry..." She began, but was cut off by the pilot's
yelling.

	"Just turbulence, man, calm dow-"  But he stopped when another
blow struck the plane.  Scully tried to pull herself off Mulder, but she
was knocked far down the aisle when another bump hit.  
Mulder crawled after her, and pulled her up.
	
"You okay?" He asked frantically. 
	
"Yeah, okay-" She answered.  The wind had been knocked out of her.  
	Mulder whirled around and screamed, "You said you could get us out
of this, God damn it!"  
Riffman looked panicked.  He struggled with the controls with one hand,
the other held the radio.
  "Hey, man, this is flight 5934-"  Another fist slammed the plane, and
the radio flew out of his hand.  "Shit!" He yelled, and groped for it. 
His fingers grasped the black, curly cord, and he pulled it up from the
floor.  
"This is flight 593476, we're experiencing *severe* turbulence, man, we're
at-" He glanced at the controls.  "Oh, man, the navigator's fucked up-"  
The next rocking blow hit from the left, and knocked Riffman clear out of
the pilot's seat.
  Scully was thrown against a chair, and Mulder landed almost on top of
her. 
	
"Scully-are you-" He could not finish.  The wind began to batter the small
plane, bringing it up and down through the air, causing the three people
inside to tumble around like pebbles.
  The last thing Scully remembered was seeing her forehead about to make
contact with an armrest.  
Well, screw relaxation, she thought, and the world went black as a
deafening roar filled her ears.



	

She awoke hours later.  The first thing she noticed was the awful pain in
her head, that seemed to fill her skull.  She reached up and touched her
forehead gingerly, feeling hot, sticky blood.
  Her entire body ached, and their was a dead weight on top of her.  Her
nostrils were filled with smoke, so thick she felt she might choke.
  Scully opened her eyes, but she could not see well.  Mulder's heavy body
was crushing hers, and she poked at him.

	"Mulder- Mulder," She said softly.  It hurt to talk.
  He did not move.  She felt cold fear fill her heart...was he dead?  
Suddenly he stirred and moaned.  He lifted his head from her shoulder and
blinked several times. 
	"Scully?" He asked hesitantly, looking down at her.  "Are you all
right?"
	
"Yeah..." She answered, relieved.  She winced.  "Hit my head.  I guess we
crashed..."  
Mulder rolled off her slowly. 
	"Yeah. Oh- God..." He gasped, feeling the aches and pains hit.  He
rotated his arms and legs slowly.  "I don't think anything's broken..."
  Scully looked around.  The plane's cabin was in shambles...holes were
torn in the walls, the windows shattered.  There was debris everywhere. 
It was a wonder they'd survived. 
 Suddenly she saw what seemed to be a red mass in one corner of the plane.

	"Oh my God, Mulder..." She began, her voice shaking.  She tried to
stand, but her legs were shaking and it hurt too much.  She crawled toward
Riffman and checked his pulse.  It was no wonder it wasn't there- half the
man's skull had been taken off by a piece of glass.  
Mulder turned away and she swallowed hard.
  After a moment, she managed to get to her feet, and Mulder joined her. 
They walked unsteadily to the door, and Mulder forced it open.  They both
stepped out, and Mulder helped her over the rubble littering the ground.
  What they saw outside was no more welcoming than the interior of the
plane.
  
They looked around and could see nothing at all but dense forest and
mountains.  Where the plane had hit and skidded was a long trench of
uprooted earth and shrubs, smoking a little.  
Scully squinted, but could not see a house or town anywhere.  They were in
the wilderness of the Rocky mountains, and by the look of the sky, a
fierce snowstorm was brewing.  
She looked up at Mulder.  There was a cut on his temple, and his face was
bruised.  
	He looked down at her, saying, "We should take shelter in the
wreckage.  After the storm's through, we might want to go look for help."

	"Let's check the radio," She suggested, and they hobbled back into
the plane wreckage.  Mulder grabbed the small radio, but it was obvious it
would be no use to them. The cord had been severed in the crash.
  "Dammit..." She whispered.
  Mulder looked at her bleakly.  "We need to find some blankets, it'll get
cold soon."
  Scully nodded, and shivered as she did.  Her thin T-shirt would be of no
use in the blizzard that was rapidly approaching.
  Mulder wound his way to the back of the plane, avoiding the metal and
glass.
  Scully cast one last look out the door at the black sky and followed
him.

**********
<kg>


===========================================================================

From: ldyducatnp@aol.com (LdyDucatnp)
Newsgroups: alt.tv.x-files.creative
Subject: New Story - "Crash" 2/12
Date: 18 May 1996 17:41:38 -0400


==================================
"Crash" (2/12)
By Kerry Gallo (xasj82c@prodigy.com)
and Sarah Roby (LadyDucatnip@prodigy.com)
==================================

**Disclaimer on Chapter One**


		                                -= Chapter Two =-


	The strong, cold winds passing through the shattered windows and
the huge holes in the side of the small plane made their passage to the
rear almost impossible.  The storm was getting closer by the second, and
time was a luxury they didn't have.  Scully had to concentrate hard to not
think about the hard facts and terrible odds of them surviving what was to
come, waiting for rescue.  But, as she stopped and gazed around herself,
awed at the damage laying at her feet, she reminded herself that, in spite
of the odds, both she and Mulder had survived this crash.  She then firmly
convinced herself that they *were* going to get out of this alive - screw
the odds.
	Scully was startled out of her reverie by a frustrated
"God*damnit*!!!". 
	She moved as fast as her beaten and bruised body would allow her
to go see what was wrong.  Mulder was just standing there, facing what was
left of the back wall, unmov-ing.  
	Scully approached him and asked, "What?"  
	He pointed down at the sunken floor and the almost unrecognizable
forms lying there.
	"I hope you like your luggage 'well done', Scully...."  he said as
she stared for a moment at what was left of their luggage.  The flames
from the rear engine explosion had literally "fried" their baggage - the
suitcases had been horribly misshapen, charred, and shrunken, and almost
all of Mulder's garment bag had been eaten away by the fire, while
Scully's was completely destroyed.  Scully, however, refused to give up so
easily.
	"C'mon... let's see if any of our clothes are salvageable..."  She
busied herself with unzipping Mulder's garment bag, while Mulder began
trying to open the suitcases.  But all she found was completely burned
dress slacks and only one suit coat left that wasn't totally ruined. 
Turning her attention to the pocket of the bag, she discovered two of
Mulder's most "choice" magazines, only slightly burned and she smiled
lightly at the absurdity of the situation.  As she heard the howling wind,
however, which reminded her to get busy again.  Digging some more in the
pocket, she found two lightly scorched black-and-white photographs - ones
of Mulder and Samantha at the beach as children that she had seen before,
and a large package of sunflower seeds.  
	She turned to Mulder and said, "I only found one coat, Mulder.  Is
there anything left in the suitcases we can use?"  She had to squint to be
able to see him now that it was quickly getting darker because of the
approaching blizzard.  
	"In this case, Scully,"  he began, "your suitcase is the only one
that didn't burn up completely.  In yours I found a not-so-crispy sweater,
another T-shirt, and some socks..."  He paused. 
	"That's it??"  Scully asked.
	"'Fraid so....."
	"What about yours?"
	"Well, let's just say I now know why they put that "Keep away from
flame" label on deodorant spray cans."  Scully lowered her head for a
moment and considered their options.  
	"Alright....,"  she took a deep breath, "I agree with what you
suggested before.  Our best course of action will be to put on what extra
layers of clothes we can, hole up in here, wait out the storm, and then
see if we can find some help around here...."  Mulder nodded slowly, then
looked as though he remembered something.  He walked to the rear of the
plane again, and began rooting under the seats and the wreckage.
	"What are you doing, Mulder?", Scully asked as she stood up and
walked over to their open suitcases.
	"Looking...."  Scully sighed and rolled her eyes slightly.
	"For what?"  When Mulder didn't answer right away, she turned to
look back in his direction.  After a few more moments of searching the
back floorboards, Mulder turned around with a large, rectangular package,
which he held up triumphantly for her to see.	
	"What is that?"
	"This, Scully, may look like an ordinary, run-of-the-mill
parachute, but to the more trained eye, it has many uses..... like as one
*big* blanket, perhaps?"
	Right at that moment, the storm chose to unleash it's fury on the
small plane, and it began to snow heavily.

***********
<sr>


===========================================================================

From: ldyducatnp@aol.com (LdyDucatnp)
Newsgroups: alt.tv.x-files.creative
Subject: New story - "Crash" 3/12
Date: 18 May 1996 17:42:05 -0400


==================================
"Crash" (3/12)
By Kerry Gallo (xasj82c@prodigy.com)
and Sarah Roby (LadyDucatnip@prodigy.com)
==================================

**Disclaimer on Chapter One**
				
	
				      -= Chapter Three =-


	

Scully heard the sudden roar of wind as the sky opened up, and she turned
to one of the huge holes in the walls of the plane.  Before, it had been
almost pitch-black out when the sun was covered by clouds, but now
everything outside was white. 
	"Oh my God, Mulder..." She murmured.  He stared out the window at
the snow, which soon began pouring in through the holes.
  "We'd better find somewhere where the snow won't get in," She said.  
Mulder nodded and looked around. 
	"The bathroom won't be big enough for both of us, and there's not
really anywhere to lay down.  There's too much debris."  
Scully looked at the ground and spotted several large, long, pole-like
pieces of metal that had probably once been inside supporting the plane's
walls. 
	"We could prop those poles up and make a sort of tent with the
parachute," She suggested.
	"Good idea," He said.  He walked - or rather - stumbled over the
debris and scattered seats and pulled up one of the poles.  Scully helped
him lift it and prop it against the plane wall.  They put two more against
the wall a few feet away, making a sort of lean-to.  Then, they unrolled
the parachute and covered the lean-to frame with it.
  Scully looked around.  The floor of the plane by the holes in the walls
were covered with at least half a foot of snow.  
Mulder picked up the clothes they had salvaged and handed the sweater,
T-shirt, and socks to her.
	"Mulder-" She began to protest, but he interrupted her.
	"Hey, you think those'd fit me?  No way."  He asked jokingly.  
	Scully smiled a little uncertainly, and asked, "Won't you be
cold?"
	"Nah, I'll take the coat," He said.  
Scully nodded slowly and pulled the shirt and sweater on, then stuffed the
socks in her jeans pocket.  They might need them later. 
	"Oh, it's getting really cold..." She said, shivering and rubbing
her arms.  Mulder nodded, and put the sports coat on.  He was only wearing
a thin white and green flannel shirt and jeans.  She considered telling
him he'd better take the sweater, but she did not. Mulder was Mulder...
he'd never do anything she told him to.
  She looked around.  Snow was blowing ever more fiercely into the wrecked
plane.  She could feel it settling on her face, cold and wet.  The
temperature was rapidly dropping as freezing wind blew in.
	"Here," Mulder said, lifting the edge of the parachute.  "Crawl
in."  
She did, going to the corner of the lean-to.  Mulder crawled in after her.
 The lean-to made a tight fit for them both, but the parachute covered the
metal poles and came down over the sides, sealing in warmth.  
Mulder was so tall he had to bend his knees and lean over to get in.
  He scooted around a little, trying not to invade her space too much with
his long legs.  She put her hand on his arm in an "it's okay" fashion, and
he sat down next to her.  His side was against hers, and she relished the
heat of his body, snuggling closer to him.  
	Mulder smiled a little down at her.  "We'll be okay," He said
softly.  "We'll ride out the storm, then go look for help..."  
Scully's brow furrowed.  
	"We seem to be a million miles out in the middle of nowhere..."
She said quietly, trying not to let the fear she suddenly felt show in her
voice.  When they'd been busy planning on a course of action and looking
for supplies, she'd been able to keep a lid on her fear.  But now, it was
taking control of her.  They were stranded in the middle of the Rocky
mountains in the middle of a fierce blizzard.  The odds were definitely
against them, and she was scared. 
	"How will anyone find us?" She asked, her voice shaking.
Mulder opened his mouth, then closed it.  There was a long, uncomfortable
silence. 
	"I dunno," He said finally.  "But they will.  We'll get out of
this, Scully, I promise."  
Scully sighed a little. 
	"I hope so..."  
Mulder gently put his arm around her and hugged her gently.  She rested
her head on his shoulder, silently thanking God that they were in such
cramped quarters.  It was almost... nice.
	"We'll be okay..." She heard him reassuring her, his voice
semi-confident.  The wind roared outside, and despite the warmer
conditions inside their makeshift shelter, she knew it would be below
freezing soon.  
But she didn't care. Mulder was there, and he'd take care of her.
  Soon, Scully was fast asleep.
  She never noticed when Mulder took the coat off and draped it over her
shoulders... and she did not wake when he kissed her cheek tenderly.

	

When she awoke, the wind was not as loud as it was before.  It had become
a low-pitched, whistling noise, which meant the storm had died down. 
 She blinked the sleep out of her eyes and looked at Mulder, his sleeping
face only inches from hers.  His chin was resting on her head, and she
smiled.  He looked like a little boy.  For a moment, she almost considered
waking him up, for only one reason...to see his eyes.  She had always
thought they were beautiful, a brownish-green color with a hint of gray. 
They were soft and gentle and warm when they looked at her, but could be
hard and cold when he was angry, or on the hunt for the Truth he so
desperately sought.  
There was a hint of stubble on his face, and his hair was ruffled.  She
thought he looked sweet and innocent... Looking at Mulder asleep would
make you think he was a sweet, innocent man...not the sharp, witty, but
haunted man she knew he was.  
She was just about to shake his shoulder to make him open those eyes, but
stopped herself just in time.  He needed his sleep, and she shouldn't be
thinking that way about him anyway.
	
*Why not?* A voice in her mind asked, and she answered fiercely. 	
	
**Because!** 

	*That's a stupid excuse for lying to yourself....*
	
**Oh shut the hell up.**
  
She moved away from him and pulled the flap of the parachute on her side
up, crawling out slowly to avoid rubble and glass shards.  What struck her
first was the cold, intense and biting compared to the relative warmth
inside their shelter.  She stood and walked carefully to a hole in the
wall, looking out.  
What she saw scared her.  
The snow as coming down hard, not as fiercely as before.  But the ground
was absolutely buried in snow drifts.
  The snow, judging by a sapling about six feet tall she'd noticed
earlier, was about three feet deep, and would be hard to hike through. 
And add to that the freezing temperatures...She thought.  
But they needed to find people, and that was the only way.  Riffman hadn't
been able to give the plane's location over the radio, and no one knew
where they were or if they had crashed of not. Things seemed hopeless.  
She turned away from the hole.  They would find a way to survive, she told
herself firmly.  They would make it, they *had* to make it.
	
Suddenly, Scully noticed the coat around her shoulders.  She sighed a
little, but she was touched.  Mulder must have been freezing the whole
night through, and he hadn't even been asked to give up his coat.
  But he'd sacrificed his own well-being to keep her safe.  
Scully heard a rustling noise and looked up.  Mulder stood before her
sleepily.  He was shivering.
	"Hi," He said quietly.  "You okay?"  
She nodded, smiling a little. 
	"You didn't have to give me your coat..."  
Mulder shook his head. 
	"No, I was okay," He said, grinning.  "How's it look out there?"
	"Not too good," She answered gravely.  Mulder moved to stand next
to her.
  He looked sobered. 
	"Damn...", He whispered. 
	"I don't know how we can possibly survive..." She began, then
stopped.  He had taken her hand.

	"Dana, I know we can make it.  I'll take care of you, and we'll
get through this." She looked up into his eyes appreciatively.  His hazel
eyes seemed to glow with concern and affection...and something else...?  
He squeezed her hand gently.


**********
<kg>


===========================================================================

From: ldyducatnp@aol.com (LdyDucatnp)
Newsgroups: alt.tv.x-files.creative
Subject: New story - "Crash" 4/12
Date: 18 May 1996 17:45:04 -0400


==================================
"Crash" (4/12)
By Kerry Gallo (XASJ82C@prodigy.com)
and Sarah Roby (LadyDucatnip@prodigy.com)
==================================

**Disclaimer on Chapter One**


				    -= Chapter Four =-


	As Dana felt the warm strength of his hand squeezing hers, she
suddenly became overwhelmed with a feeling she could not quite place.  She
quickly averted her eyes away from Mulder's and turned her face away -
anywhere but at him - and slowly removed her hand from his.  Even though
Scully was no longer in physical contact with him, she could almost
mentally feel him tense up.  God, she wished she knew what the hell was
wrong with her.  Probably nothing her nice, warm apartment and
semi-"normal" life wouldn't cure.
	"Da.... Scully?  What did I do?  Did I say something wrong...?"
	"No!"  She began and then got a hold of herself.  "I'm sorry,
Mulder, it's not you."  She paused for a few moments, and then looked into
his eyes again.  "It's me."  He still looked confused and hurt, but she
saw him mentally filing away those emotions for a more appropriate time.
	"Okay," he began.  His normal, calm, business-like expression took
over his face, and he was once again focused on how they were going to get
out of this mess.  "What time is it, Scully?"  Mulder asked as he looked
at his watch, thumped it a couple times, and then said, "Takes a lickin',
and keeps on tickin' huh?".  Scully looked at her still-functioning watch,
trying through her slowly re-developing headache to read the digital
display.  
	"My watch says it's coming up on 7:30 AM..."  
	"Alright."  Mulder paused a moment to rub his hands together, and
blow on them, trying to warm them.  He also shivered involuntary, but he
didn't appear to notice; his train of thought never wavered.  He walked
slowly over to the hole in the plane's hull that gave them a depressing
view of the white world slowly growing around them.  The huge hole started
from the middle of his stomach and continued up the side of the plane. 
Mulder noticed the snow starting to creep in through the bottom of the
hole into the plane and wondered how long it would take for the entire
plane to be completely buried in snow.  They couldn't stay here, and they
couldn't hike out of the plane across the snow in just their shoes.  There
was a little hope, however; the snowfall had begun to slow bit by bit. 
Mulder turned back to Scully, his face almost playful.
	"You didn't happen to pack your snowshoes, did you, Scully?" 
Scully almost laughed at him, but found she was still too exhausted to do
so and just stared at him.
	"No, Mulder, I'm sorry.  You didn't even tell me to 'pack my
mittens' on *this* trip," she said tiredly, and shivered again.
	Mulder chuckled very softly and briefly before turning back to the
"window" facing toward the outside of the plane, sighing.  Scully raised
her eyes to watch him as he tried to figure out a way for them to survive.
 From a few feet behind Mulder, she also gazed out the hole in the
bulkhead, but soon became frustrated at her brain's inability to function
at all.  She self-diagnosed herself and her symptoms; dizziness, fatigue,
anxiety, headache, slow thought processes.... she was no doubt in shock,
that was obvious; a more serious head injury than I thought?, she
wondered.  She once again reached up and touched the now-drying blood on
her face, and ran her fingertips along the cut on her forehead.  She now
found that it continued farther back onto her scalp, under her hair,
almost invisible, and  still slightly wet with fresh blood.
	Mulder's voice cut through her rumination like a lightning strike.
 "Scully?  Are you alright?"  His voice was full of concern and worry.  He
had somehow managed to step
up next to her without her even noticing.  She looked up and met his eyes,
startled.
	"Yeah...., I think so.  I think the arm of that seat scratched my
head more than I thought, though..."  Before she could finish her
sentence, or even protest, Mulder carefully took her head in his hands and
began to examine her wounded head, gently probing the area, shifting her
hair out of the way tenderly.
	"A *cut*, Scully?  Jesus, try a *gash*, or I would even go for
'Grand Canyon'..."  he let go of her head slowly and looked into her eyes.
 "It's a wonder you're even con-cious... are you experiencing any of the
symptoms of a concussion...?"  Scully cut him off with a wave of her hand.
 His babbling was giving her an even bigger headache and his
over-protectiveness was starting to grate on her nerves.  It wasn't like
he was in the best of health right now either...
	"Just let it be, Mulder, okay?  I'll be fine, we'll *both* be
fine....as soon as..."  she paused and blinked.  "As soon as we....we
get...."
	Mulder was barely able to catch her as she collapsed, her knees
buckling under-neath her.
	"Scully!?!  Dana!?  Can you hear me?", he called out frantically. 
"Answer me!"  She didn't move, didn't blink, didn't respond.  He carefully
picked her up in his arms, looking around as if an idea of what to do
might magically make itself known to him.  His eyes came to rest on the
makeshift tent they had constructed the night before.  He carried her over
to the tent, kneeled down beside it, and opened it with one hand while
balancing Scully's legs on one knee.  Carefully using his leverage, Mulder
turned Scully's head tow-ard the "entrance", and managed to lay her in a
somewhat comfortable position, on her side, inside their makeshift tent. 
Very little room was left inside, but he managed to fit himself inside,
kneeling beside her.  He took her chin lightly in his hand and turned it
up to face him, his other hand coming up to gently stroke her hair.  
	"Dana?  C'mon, wake up... it's me.... you can do it... wake up...
Dana, please..".
She didn't stir.  He grasped her wrist inbetween his fingers, checking her
pulse.  It wasn't strong, but it wasn't too faint either.  But, she needed
medical attention, soon.  He once again pushed the wisps of hair back from
her face, and ran his thumb along her cheekbone.  He started thinking
dreadful thoughts of what might happen.... if she died.  He had almost
lost her once before, and, since that time, still could not bring himself
to admit his true feelings for her, afraid that it would ruin their
partnership, their friendship, and to end those things would end his life
as he had come to know it.  She had become such an integral part of him,
and his life, his 'other half' even, that he knew he would be incomplete
if she wasn't with him - telling him how crazy this theory or that theory
was; how needed to clean his apartment or sell it to science for research;
looking at him with bewilderment when he showed her a new tie he had
bought over the weekend - "My God, Mulder, you *must* be color-blind..";
sharing one of their middle-of-the-night, "You can't sleep, well, neither
can I", talks that now and then transpired during a case; smiling the way
she smiled at him sometimes, like she had when he had woke up from a coma
in that Alaskan military hospital; seeing her compassion and capacity for
love; not having her absolute trust in him, and he in her, to reassure
him......
	"'NO'!!", he shouted in his mind, clearing his mind of those awful
thoughts and bringing himself back to the present.  'She is *not* going to
die.... not *now*...'  he 
reaffirmed himself mentally.  'Not if I can do anything about it...'
	Mulder forced himself to think.  With Dana in this condition now,
there was no way they could even try to hike out of here... so they would
have to stay here, at least another day.  The snow and the bitter cold was
a constant threat, but the snowfall and the howling wind had begun to die
down, bit by bit.  Mulder hoped and prayed it would continue like that,
and another storm like the one that caused them to crash wouldn't blow
through and bury the plane totally.  
	But, he realized that hoping and praying wasn't going to keep them
both alive until help came.  After brushing her cheek once more with his
fingers, he turned and crawled out of the tent.  A sudden blast of
freezing wind caught him as he did so, and he closed his eyes and wrapped
his arms tightly about him, shivering for a moment.  When it passed, he
stood, and looked around.  He looked toward the cockpit, once again seeing
the grisly sight of what was left of their pilot, Riffman.  Riffman would
have had to brought some supplies along on this trip, Mulder reasoned. 
Swallowing heavily, Mulder walked up to the front of the plane, and leaned
over Riffman's body.  
	He forced himself to ignore the blood and gore, and began
searching the pocket's of Riffman's thin coat and jeans.  Mulder found
Riffman's wallet and some rolled cigarettes in the coat, but as he dug
into his jeans pockets, he found a couple sticks of Juicy Fruit, a receipt
from the airport store in Oregon, some pocket change, and.... yes!... a
box of matches.  Mulder pocketed the gum, matches, and receipt into his
front jeans pocket and Riffman's wallet into his rear pocket, next to his
own.  He searched the body again, to be sure, but found nothing else. 
Mulder looked up, and his eyes glanced over the disaster area that was the
cockpit, seeing the useless radio and the broken and shattered controls
and readouts.  He quickly checked behind both the pilot and co-pilot
seats, and under them.  Nothing.  
	Mulder leaned over the co-pilot's seat, and in the space between
the seat and the outer wall sat a small emergency toolbox.  He reached
over, and picked it up, and set it down on the copilot's seat.  He checked
the same area next to the pilot's seat, and found a small pilot's duffel
bag stuffed there.  He hurriedly grabbed that, and yanked the zipper open,
once again ignoring the winds that blew through the windowless cockpit,
causing him to shiver and his hands to feel like blocks of ice.  Mulder
rummaged through the dead pilot's belongings; a map, a plastic sandwich
bag half-filled with carrot sticks and celery (this guy was definitely
from California, Mulder thought), a book by Stephen King, a few pens and
pencils, and two silk handkerchiefs with the letters "KS" embroidered on
them.  Not a lot that could help them now, Mulder knew, but it just might
be enough, hopefully.
	Mulder grasped the duffel bag in one hand, and the tool box in the
other, made his way back to the tent, and set them down.  He lifted the
side of the tent again to check on Scully.... she still hadn't woken up. 
He held his disappointment back, and went back to the task at hand.  They
would need a fire for warmth, when night fell again, but the tent wasn't
big enough for a safe fire.  
	He ran his hand thoughtfully along the two seats next to the tent,
and then along the base of them, and then suddenly an idea struck him.  He
frantically pulled open the tool box, and upon finding what he was looking
for - a large screwdriver - began loosening the screws that were holding
the next row of seats back to the floor.  If their 'tent' wasn't big
enough for a fire, he would *make* room for it to be big enough for one. 
He promised himself she wouldn't die, frozen to death, here.  Even through
his own weariness, his need to keep her alive was his sole motivation.

**********
<sr>


===========================================================================

From: ldyducatnp@aol.com (LdyDucatnp)
Newsgroups: alt.tv.x-files.creative
Subject: New story - "Crash" 5/12
Date: 18 May 1996 17:55:12 -0400


==================================
"Crash" (5/12)
By Kerry Gallo (xasj82c@prodigy.com)
and Sarah Roby (LadyDucatnip@prodigy.com)
==================================

**Disclaimer on Chapter One**


				  -= Chapter Five =-


	
Mulder pulled at the seats, straining to pull them up and make room for
the fire. He managed to get one off it's bolts and was about to push it
aside, when he saw that the frame was made of wood.  He almost smiled.  
He tore the red cloth off the seat and unscrewed the bolts.  When he was
finished, he had about four long, rectangular pieces of wood...good for
burning.  He repeated the steps with the next seat, then pushed the
remains of them out of the way to clear a fire space.  
Then he went and tore open the other chairs and took the wood frames from
them.  By the time he was done, he had a few dozen good-sized pieces of
firewood, aching muscles, and freezing hands.  But when he felt the urge
to collapse, he remembered Scully inside the lean-to... it made him keep
going.
  He had to salvage as much flammable material as he could.  The book and
various things made of paper he'd found on the pilot were good, and the
wood from the seat frames would burn well.  But they wouldn't last
forever....

	He went to the bathroom and managed to force the door open. 
Inside, he found about half a roll of toilet paper under the sink....
paper.  
He went to his suitcase and took out his two magazines.  He had to smile a
little...  It was kind of ironic that the magazines Scully hated so much
would be so important to them now.
  Then Mulder saw the two photos of him and Samantha.  Picking them up
slowly, he felt a lump in his throat.  He couldn't burn them, he just
*couldn't*...  But then he looked over at the lean-to, and could almost
see his friend, hurt and cold inside...  
He slowly went back to the cleared space and put the magazines, toilet
paper - and the photos - on the pile of supplies.  
He tore pages from the book- "Gerald's Game", not one of his favorites -
and put them into a small pile in the center of the cleared area.  He
carefully struck a match and lit the pages;  Then he added the receipt,
toilet paper and cardboard roll, and his magazines to the flames.  He did
not put the map on...he saw at just the moment he was about to put it into
the flames that it was a map of the area of the Rockies they were in.  It
might be useful if they eventually *had* to hike out.  
He stopped and gazed at the two photos for a moment, then threw them onto
the fire too.  It nearly broke his heart seeing the pictures of his sister
burn and turn to black ash.
  Once he had the fire had started, he added one of the smaller pieces of
wood.  As the fire gained strength, he added a larger piece.  Soon, he had
a nice, hot fire blazing.  
Then he picked up the large pieces of felt from the seats and turned to
the large holes in the plane walls.  Snow was coming in through them, and
it made the demolished cabin colder.  He went to the emergency kit and
found a roll of heavy-duty duct tape.  This he used to tape the felt over
the holes, more or less sealing the cabin up from the snow.  There was
nothing he could do about the shattered windshield... he could try and
seal it up later, but there wasn't much felt left.  
Then he took the celery and carrot sticks, the pack of Juicy Fruit, and
the bag of sunflower seeds from his charred suitcase and put them in a
pile next to the fire.  It wasn't much food, but it was *some*.
  When he was done, Mulder went to the lean-to, rubbing his cold arms, and
looked under the parachute. Scully was still lying down, but her eyes were
open.  He crawled into the lean-to and knelt beside her.

	"Dana- I've got a fire going..." He said softly, taking her hand.
  She nodded a little, looking dazed.  Mulder felt his fear threatening to
take over...she was hurt badly, and there was nothing he could do...he
wasn't the doctor.  He felt helpless, and it infuriated him that he could
not help the woman he cared for so deeply.  
She sat up slowly, and he helped her, supporting her back.  
Mulder helped her crawl put of the lean-to and stand. 
She wavered and trembled, and he had to hold her tightly in case she fell.
 
Mulder felt tears come to his eyes, but refused to let them fall.  He had
to be strong and help her...crying would do no good at all.
  He helped her walk to the fire, and gently sat her down.  Then he pulled
the blanket around his coat more tightly around her shoulders. 
Mulder checked the fire and poked at it a bit with a metal rod, then sat
next to his friend. He put his arm around her and brought her closer to
the fire.  
Scully's eyes were glazed, and she absently stared at the fire.  Mulder
watched her, and the more he saw her slipping away, the more afraid he
became.  She seemed to be fading, her senses shutting down.
  He grasped her shoulders and turned her to face him gently.
	
"Dana- look at me..." Her head hung loosely on her shoulders.
  "Dana- come on, please look at me..." Mulder pleaded, and put his hand
under her chin to bring her face up.  
"Come on, stay with me, Dana...Don't go, please?  Nod if you understand
me," He was nearly crying now.  Her eyes seemed to see through him.
"Dammit, Dana, *please*...!"  
After what seemed like ages, she nodded, slowly.  He saw something in her
eyes click on, and he knew then she was coming back to him.  She looked up
at him slowly.  *Really* looked at him, *seeing* him.  He smiled a
little... she was okay... he hoped.
  Mulder sighed a little with relief.  He hugged her close to him, and
felt her arms wrap around his waist weakly.  He decided the only thing he
could do now was try to make her comfort-able.
  "Are you hungry?  I found some carrot sticks and celery... some gum?" He
asked, reaching out and taking the bag of vegetables from the pile of
food. 
 Scully stared at the carrot stick her handed her like it was from another
planet, then looked at him. 
	"I guess the surfer dude wouldn't have any red meat or animal
byproducts on him?" She asked softly, smiling a little.
	
"No way, man, animals are our little friends," Mulder said with a heavy
Californian accent.  "But he probably has a lot of acupuncture needles and
aromatherapy crap somewhere..."  
Scully smiled and 
				bit into the carrot stick, chewing slowly.
 While she ate, Mulder gently wiped some of the blood off her forehead
with the silk handkerchiefs.  
She stared at the fire, her alertness coming back. 

	"Where did you get wood for the fire?" She asked.

	"I tore up the seats...turns out the frames are made out of wood,"
He answered, gesturing to the seat parts strewn around them.  
She nodded. 
	"Good idea."

	"There's enough to last for a while," He said.  "After that..." He
stopped.  He did not want to think of what would happen after the wood ran
out.  The paper left from the book would only burn for about a minute, and
wouldn't provide any warmth.  It was still freezing; Scully was shaking,
and he was shivering too.  At least the snow wasn't pouring in through the
holes anymore... he could still hear the wind blowing, and that meant the
storm was still going at it.
  Mulder stood up and went to Riffman's body.  He gulped, trying not to
throw up, as he pulled the coat off the body.  He nearly gagged when the
body rolled over and he saw what was left of Riffman's head, but he
managed to get the coat off before retching.  He held it up and saw, to
his surprise, it wasn't that dirty... only a few splatters of blood showed
on the shoulder.  No wonder, he thought.  Riffman had landed horizontally
with his upper body on the downward slope created when the plane crashed
and rolled a bit to the left, and the blood had frozen into a dark red
puddle as it flowed down away from the body.  The coat would've been
soaked if not for the slope. 
Mulder went back to Scully and put the coat around her shoulders, out of
the habit of always putting her safety and well-being ahead of his own. 
He sat down about two feet away from the fire and gently pushed her closer
to it.  He stared off into space, and missed her look of anger.

	"Mulder-" She began, then stopped.  Her head ached, and she was
still dizzy.  But Scully was conscious enough to be annoyed with him.

	"Mmm?" He answered, finally looking back.  He was startled by her
upset express-ion.
	
"What?" He asked defensively, unsure of what error he'd committed.
	
"Once again, you've gone and given me everything and yourself nothing,"
She pointed out.  "You gave me both coats and the sweater, the food,
you're far away from the fire so I'd be closer to it!  I appreciate you
trying to help me, but how can you help if you're dead?"  She couldn't
help but be mad.  Damn it, she cared for him so much, and he was killing
himself for her.  She did not want that.
	
"Dana, I only wanted-" He began, but she stopped him.

	"Mulder, I know you care about me, but please, take your own
condition into consideration," She interrupted.  "You're cold too, and
you're putting yourself at risk for hypothermia by giving me the warm
clothes."
	
"I'm not the one with the concussion," He answered.  "Besides, Dana, I...
if anything happened to you..." He stopped and she saw him turn away
quickly.  It softened her a bit.  
"If anything happened to me, you'd have to go on.  I know you, you'd give
up... although I don't really know why, you hated me when we first met..."
She smiled, thinking it would make him laugh, but it didn't.  His
shoulders were trembling a little.

	"Mulder?" She asked softly, and scooted closer to him.  "What is
it?" She asked gently.
	
"It's just..." He turned to face her again, and there was no mistaking
tears in his eyes.  "Dana, you're all I have, and..." He stopped.  His
eyes dropped to his hands in his lap.  
She was confused.  What was he trying to tell her?  She knew there was
more to it...
	
"What, Mulder?  And what?"
  He looked up at her, and she could read his thoughts. 

	'You know what.'
	
'Do I? Or do I see something that's not there, something I'm imagining?' 
She answered to herself.
  Mulder watched her watching him, and knew that he really wasn't going to
be able to hide it any longer.  She would find out sooner or later he was
in love with her, and the sooner he told her and she rejected him, the
sooner he could try to get over her.  Their friendship would remain
unharmed, and he needed that more than anything.  
He looked back at the fire and took a deep breath.  Now, remember, Mulder,
he thought, be brief.  Let her tell you that she wants to be friends, and
then it'll be over.
  But he felt a sudden pang of fear... he didn't *want* her to reject him.
 But she *would*... if he told her he loved her, that was just part of the
bargain.  But he didn't want to hear her say it....
But when he looked back at her, she was staring at him with an odd
expression on her  face.  It seemed so tender, and so open...it was almost
like she knew what he wanted to say...and wanted to hear it.
	
"Dana..." He began, and her eyes took on a soft glow.
  Scully felt warm satisfact-ion grow within her, and she knew then that
she was seeing something in his eyes that *was* there, she wasn't just
imagining-
	

Suddenly, a horrible, growling, scrabbling noise came from the left side
of the plane, and they whirled around.  Scully felt her heart jump, and
the noises echoed in her aching head.  
The metal of the wall bent inward as something big slammed into it.  
They both stood up, frightened.  Mulder rushed to one of the holes and
pried the felt off it, then peered out.
  Scully saw his face go white.  
When he turned back, she saw his face was sick with fear.

	"Mulder, what is it?" She asked frantically, standing up.  He
didn't answer.
 "Mulder, *what is it*?!"  Scully was on the verge of tears.
  Mulder swallowed hard. 	
"Wolves, Dana," He said softly.  "About twenty starving, big,
angry....*wolves*. They're surrounding the plane...."
  She felt fear clutch her heart. 
	"Well - they can't get in...right?"

	"I don't think so..." Mulder began, but suddenly a loud thud came
from the front of the plane.  He felt suddenly ill.  
Mulder turned slowly and saw a huge, black, snarling wolf standing on the
nose of the plane, staring inside.  It's eyes were large and round and
yellow, and it's long, sharp teeth were bared.  
As Mulder watched, more wolves jumped up onto the nose of the plane and
stared inside at them.

  The shattered windshield would make a more than adequate entrance to the
cabin for the pack.

**********
<kg>


===========================================================================

From: ldyducatnp@aol.com (LdyDucatnp)
Newsgroups: alt.tv.x-files.creative
Subject: New story - "Crash" 6/12
Date: 18 May 1996 17:55:27 -0400


==================================
"Crash" (6/12)
By Kerry Gallo (xasj82c@prodigy.com)
and Sarah Roby (LadyDucatnip@prodigy.com)
==================================

**Disclaimer on Chapter One**


				     -= Chapter Six =-	


	Mulder's mind spun as he tried to figure out what to do now.  He
barely heard Scully's, "Oh, God..." behind him as he struggled to think
clearly.  His hand instinctively reached for his belt holster, then he
remembered that he had taken both his and Scully's off.  Both guns were
lying in the lean-to, and he didn't want Scully to move to retrieve them. 
He looked back up at the cockpit, and noticed two more wolves had jumped
onto the hood of the plane, staring intently at what they deemed to be
their next meal.  He didn't have a choice.
	"Scully, sit still...," he said softly and intensely as he began
moving backwards very slowly.  He could feel her eyes on him as he knelt
by the lean-to, and, still keeping his eyes on the wolves' motions,
stealthily reached his hand inside, feeling for his gun.  He became
fearful when he couldn't feel them, then his hand finally settled on his
holster.  Mulder re-leased the breath that he didn't realize he had been
holding, and unsnapped the clasp that held the gun tight in the holster. 
He drew the gun out of the lean-to slowly, and cocked the hammer back. 
The wolves instantly tensed, sensing danger.  One wolf, however, crouched
down and looked ready to leap into the cabin at any second.  Mulder raised
the gun, aimed it at the metal frame that held a small fragment of the
windshield, and fired.  Splinters from the remaining glass combined with
the unexpected noise surprised the wolves, and a few yelped or howled in
pain as all of them scampered off the hood of the plane.  
	Both Scully and Mulder breathed a short sigh of relief, but knew
the peace wouldn't last long.  After the shock wore off, the wolves would
be back, even hungrier.  As Scully scanned the cabin, thinking, her eyes
fell on what was left of Riffman's body.
	"Mulder -", she began.  He turned to her, his eyes questioning.
	"What?"
	"Riffman's body... they smelled *him*, not us.  We need to get his
body out of here..."  Mulder's face took on a look of realization as he
understood what she was saying.    
He looked at the pilot's body, then back at Scully.  He set his gun
carefully down on the floor next to him, then stood up and began walking
over towards the body.  Mulder sensed Scully's presence behind him, and,
even though he knew she wasn't in the best physical condition to help him,
he was happy to accept her help.  He knelt down beside the pilot's head,
while she took up position at his feet.  Mulder didn't look down at
Riffman's head as he grasped the pilot's shoulders and lifted slowly. 
Scully followed suit, lifting Riffman by the ankles.  
	As they made their way slowly up to the cockpit and Mulder placed
Riffman's upper body mostly out of the shattered front window, Scully
remarked somewhat satirically, "You think we ought to say something?" 
Mulder halted, then took Riffman's ankles from Scully's grip as she
stepped back.  Mulder took a deep breath and looked down at Riffman's
almost frozen body.
	"Sorry, man... it's either you or us...", he said tiredly before
letting go of the pilot's ankles.  They listened as they heard the sound
of the pilot's body hitting the ground, the scuffling and growling noises
the wolves made as they ran over to and fought over the body, giving it
their full attention, forgetting the other people in the plane - for now. 
	
	Scully leaned against the doorway to the cockpit, her eyes
closing, the adrenaline rush passing.  Her headache had not improved with
this little adventure, and neither had Mulder's.  But, his attention was
focused on what to do about the windshield.  He cursed himself for not
covering it up earlier, even though he knew it probably wouldn't have done
a whole lot of good anyway.  He looked around the cockpit again, and his
eyes settled on the two seats there.  They were the same as the others, he
realized, mentally kicking him- self for not thinking about stripping them
earlier.  Mulder looked behind him at Scully, who looked about ready to
fall asleep again.
	"Dana?"  
	She looked up at him, startled.  "Hmmm?"  
	He smiled at her gently.  "Why don't you go back by the fire while
I try to cover up this windshield?", he asked as he turned back to the
front of the plane.  He leaned over the captain's seat and looked down and
out the window, and wished he hadn't.  The wolves were still busy with
Riffman's body, and would be for quite some time.  
	His musings were interrupted when Scully said, "On one
condition..."  Mulder was confused, and it showed on his face as he looked
down at her.
	"What?", he asked.
	"That you...", she paused, stood herself upright, and began to
take Riffman's coat off.  He began to protest, but she continued.  "That
you at least take this, *before* you freeze to death...".  He smiled in
acceptance as she handed it to him, and slipped it on.  The coat wasn't
much, but is was better than just a flannel shirt.  He nodded his thanks,
and watched her with soft eyes as she made her way back to the fire and
sat down.  She tore a few more pages out of the book, and added another
strip of wood to the fire to keep it going.  Mulder assumed she had felt
him watching her as she looked up at him and smiled gently.  He smiled
back momentarily, then quickly walked over to the tent, picked up the
toolbox and the supplies he would need, and then focused himself back on
the task at hand, trying to suppress the thoughts Dana's smile had
conjured up in him, and failing miserably.  'I always did have *perfect*
timing', he thought.

	Dana watched as Mulder turned away from her and began stripping
the seats.  She forced herself to look away from him and tried to focus
her attention on the fire, but her own thoughts kept getting in the way. 
What the hell was going on? she wondered.  She knew his
over-protectiveness had kicked into overdrive when she had passed out from
her concussion, (her cheeks reddened with embarrassment and shame when she
remembered that), but she couldn't figure out why he was acting so
strange.... well, stranger than usual.  Earlier, he had almost told her
something that moved him so much, that he had had the beginnings of tears
in his eyes.  Now, he'd most likely dance around the subject, wanting to
forget it.  She knew it had something to do with her, and she had her
suspicions (unreal as they may have seemed), but she wanted, *needed*, to
know what was going on, what was bothering him so much.  They were
partners, and they weren't supposed to keep important things from each
other if they wanted to work as an efficient team.  And, right now, they
*needed* to work together as the able team they were.  They couldn't let
this uncomfortableness come between them, they needed to focus on staying
alive.  'Besides', her inner voice told her, 'he's your friend, and you
need to help him with whatever's worrying him.'
	"Ouch!  *Damnit*!!", Mulder hissed.  Scully was startled by his
sudden outburst, and spun her head around to the front of the plane a bit
too fast.  She closed her eyes momentarily against the shooting pain in
her head, then opened them.  Mulder was kneeled  by the co-pilot's seat,
having already stripped the pilot's seat down (he's that far done
already?, she asked herself), and was quickly clenching and un-clenching
his right fist, his face twisted in pain.
	"Mulder?  You okay?", she asked, concerned.  He looked up at her,
his fist still squeezing open and closed.  He nodded, a small, embarrassed
grin on his face.
	"Yeah.... I just..", he paused and chuckled.  "I just tried to
amputate my finger with a screwdriver, that's all...".  She smiled back as
he shook out his hand, trying to get rid of the pain, then began stripping
the chair again.
	Scully once again lost herself, and her thoughts, in the fire
blazing in front of her.

	Mulder fastened the last strip of duct tape over the makeshift
felt covering, hoping that it would last long enough for help to arrive. 
As he double-checked the strength of the barrier, his exhaustion finally
caught up with him.  He closed his eyes, already feeling the warmth
building in the cabin from the fire, then opened them again, sighing.  He
bent over, picked up the wood he obtained from the last two chairs, took
it over and laid it on the pile already built up for reserve.  Mulder then
turned to a hole he had already covered that was very close to the ceiling
of the plane.  He remembered seeing the snow and fierce wind coming in
from the opposite direction, and gently tore away a corner of the fabric,
making a small hole through which the smoke from the fire could escape,
since he had covered the windows in the cockpit of the plane.  He went
around the cabin and double-checked all the other coverings, just to be
sure.  
	When Mulder saw nothing else he could do, he finally let himself
relax, and seated himself down next to Scully, rubbing his hands together
next to the fire to warm them.  He turned his head toward her, and opened
his mouth as if to say something to her, but stop- ped as he observed her
more closely.  She stared into the fire with a blank look on her face,
unseeing.  Mulder wondered if he should rouse her, but forgot about that
as he noticed how the fire caused her hair to almost 'glow' in different
shades of auburn, how the fire reflected in her eyes, and how it made soft
shadows appear from nowhere on her face.... Mulder shook himself mentally
and tore his eyes away from her.  
	"I really need some sleep....", he said under his breath.  
	"What?!?", Scully asked, turning to face him; disoriented and
blinking.
	"Nothing, Scully..", Mulder said.  She didn't believe him.  
	Scully looked over at him as he drew his knees up to his chest,
and rested his head on them, fighting to keep his eyes open.  She fought
the temptation to broach the subject of what was bothering him; right now,
he definitely looked like he needed sleep more than complete peace of
mind.  They both did, she thought.  She had been unconscious for a while,
but that didn't really count as sleep.  Besides that, he had been working
to cover the holes in the cabin, and had to be physically, as well as
mentally exhausted.  She looked up at the small hole he had opened to let
the smoke escape, and saw the sky darkening slow-ly, the stars starting to
come out.  The snow had slowed down to a few flurries, and the wind had
stopped howling around the plane.  The only sounds easily discernible to
Scully now were the muffled sounds of the wolves outside, the crackling of
the fire, and both her and Mulder's soft breathing.  Scully turned her
attention back to Mulder, watching him stare into the fire, blinking,
trying to stay awake. 
	"Mulder...", she said.  "You need to get some sleep.  We'll be
alright for a while now.  I can keep the fire going...".  She stopped when
he looked over his arms at her, and nodded slowly.  She tried to hide her
surprised expression; him agreeing with her was the last thing she
expected.  Evidently, he was too tired to argue with her.  He lay down on
his side, facing the fire, about four feet from it, and resting his head
on his outstretched arm, his other arm resting on his side.  
	"'Night, Dana", he breathed softly, already half-asleep.
	"Goodnight, Mulder..", she replied gently, a smile touching her
lips.  Every once in a while, he would shift uncomfortably, but he finally
was able to relax and his breathing became regular.  Scully gathered
Mulder's suit coat closer around herself, shivering slight- ly.  Even with
the fire and the covered windows and holes in the cabin, it was still
quite cold.  As she picked up the metal rod Mulder had used to stoke the
fire, a glare caught her eye, something on the outskirts of the flames. 
She quietly set the makeshift poker down on the metal floor, and reached
into the fire to retrieve a small, half-burnt, glossy piece of paper.  She
brought it up close to her face, straining to see what it was.  It was a
grayish photo.... what was left was only a smiling little girl with her
hair in braided pigtails, a thin arm around her shoulders....
	"Oh, Mulder...", she sighed.  He had actually given up his
precious photos of his little sister to burn to try and keep them, *her*
in particular, alive.  She looked tenderly down at the charred picture,
brushed some stray, black ashes off it, opened Mulder's coat and slid the
photograph into the inside breast pocket.  It wouldn't make much a
difference in how long the fire would burn, she rationalized.  Scully
looked down at Mulder again, compassion displayed openly in her eyes.  He
shifted again, and groaned softly as a shiver ran through him.  A thought
ran through her mind, a thought she tried to dismiss and rationalize at
the same time.
	'It would be for our own good...', she told herself.  'It's no big
deal...'.  She looked down at Mulder, shivering, again, and scrutinized
herself.  They were both cold... it would conserve body heat...  'Stop
being so childish', she chided herself.  
	'It's not like you haven't thought about it before....', her more
daring inner voice jeered her.  Scully sighed, shutting off all the voices
warring with each other in her head.  She reached over to the wood pile,
grasped two more planks of wood from it, and set them carefully on the
fire, watching it begin to consume them hungrily.  'The fire should last
for a while, now', she thought.  She once again gazed down at Mulder, her
decision made.  
	Scully slid Mulder's coat off her shoulders and slowly scooted
herself inbetween him and the fire.  As she lay herself down on her side,
she positioned the coat over both her and Mulder.  Remarkably, he didn't
even stir as she situated herself back against him, or as she gently laid
her head on his arm near his elbow.  'He must be really exhausted', she
thought.  Normally he was a very light sleeper.  She felt much warmer
almost immediately, and all previous qualms about this idea flew from her
mind as she surrendered to her exhaustion and fell into a deep sleep.  
	Scully fell asleep so quickly, in fact, that she wasn't conscious
of Mulder's free arm coming slowly across her to encircle her waist and
pull her closer to him, or how he lightly nuzzled his face into her soft
hair before falling asleep again, a sigh of contentment escaping him that
contrasted severely with the adversity that lay ahead of them.

*********
<sr>


===========================================================================

From: ldyducatnp@aol.com (LdyDucatnp)
Newsgroups: alt.tv.x-files.creative
Subject: New story - "Crash" 7/12
Date: 18 May 1996 17:55:35 -0400


==================================
"Crash" (7/12)
By Kerry Gallo (xasj82c@prodigy.com)
and Sarah Roby (LadyDucatnip@prodigy.com)
==================================

**Disclaimer on Chapter One**


				    -= Chapter Seven =-


	At first, Mulder's sleep-drugged mind did not register the low,
soft, droning hum outside of the crashed plane.  
He lay there silently, his brow furrowed, trying to wake up and not
succeeding.
  After about a minute, he managed to stand up and stretch. 

 It was then that he realized that the humming was coming from a plane
engine.

  Mulder's entire body jerked and his eyes widened.  
A plane!  A plane overhead, rescue, safety...
Mulder raced to the door of the plane and nearly wrenched it off it's
hinges.  
He'd nearly jumped out when he remembered the wolves.  
Mulder felt panic envelop him.  He had to get outside and signal the
plane, but the wolves were out there...
Mulder turned and ran to the lean-to, grabbing for his gun.  Then he went
to the emergency kit and emptied the contents onto the floor.  He thought
he remembered seeing a flare gun inside...
There! Mulder grabbed the red plastic gun and jumped up.  He ran back to
the door and looked out.
  The wolves were still there, but only four were left.  Riffman's body
had been dragged away into the forest by the larger members of the pack,
leaving a bloody dark trail in the snow, and only the very young or old,
weak ones were left.  They shied away as Mulder yelled at them, and ran
off.
  Mulder looked up and could just see, high up in the now blue sky, the
small silver plane.  It's engine hummed louder as the plane came closer.
	
"Hey!"  He yelled, and jumped out of the plane.  In a second, he was up to
his mid-thighs in snow.  But that did not stop him.  
He plowed forward, stumbling, pushing snow out of the way, until he was
about ten feet from the crashed plane.  
He waved his hands in the air, yelling.  Then he managed to fire the flare
into the air, though his freezing fingers could barely pull the trigger. 
It skittered into the air, bright red and leaving a trail of smoke behind.
 It made a high-pitched whistling noise as it ascended.  It went about
forty feet into the air, then fizzled out and fell to the ground.
  The plane above continued on it's way due south.
  Mulder shot the other flare, and angrily threw the red gun down when he
saw that there were no flares left.  He stood there, staring up at the
plane, praying that they'd seen the flares, that they'd rescue him and his
friend...
  
	The plane slowly disappeared over the tops of the trees, leaving
the clearing and the crashed plane.  

For a long time, Mulder stood there, nearly up to his waist in snow.  He
stood for five, then ten, then fifteen minutes.  He kept praying, praying
with all his might, that the plane would see the flares and turn around,
fly back to the clearing and see the crashed plane...

But it did not.  
Mulder almost laughed... of course not.  With his luck, they'd die out
here in the freezing wilderness.
  With his luck, and with the plane and the uprooted ground and trees left
in it's wake buried in snow, anyone who happened to be flying overhead
wouldn't see them.  The radio inside their plane was dead so they couldn't
call for help.  No one even knew they'd gone down.  
	
Mulder did not feel the tears as they began running down his face.  
He'd failed; his conscience repeated it over and over.  He'd failed, and
now they'd never be rescued.  
Dana would be the first to die, she was the weakest.  She already had a
concussion, and he cursed himself for taking the pilot's jacket when she
offered it to him.  
At least if he died, there'd be more food and clothing to help preserve
her life...
He shook his head.  No, he had to stay alive, to help *her*.  Of course,
if she died... he wouldn't really *want* to live... everything, even
finding Samantha would lose meaning.  He knew that; he'd nearly lost her
before, and while she'd been in the coma, he'd given up on everything
without a fight.  
But deep inside, he knew they would die out here.  It just wasn't fair
that Dana had thrown away her life to help him, only to die in the middle
of nowhere.  It wasn't fair.... She was his partner, his friend...
The words echoed in his head.  His partner, his friend... now there would
never be a chance for her to be more than that to him....  

Mulder gasped and nearly jumped out of his skin when he felt Scully's arms
wrap around his waist from behind.  
She'd been standing in the plane's doorway watching him, and had seen how
hard he'd tried to get the plane to notice them.  She knew how upset and
guilty he felt right now.  
He turned and saw that she'd walked down the trail he'd made through the
snow to get to him, and was about to tell her to go back inside before she
froze when she interrupted him.
	
"Mulder, it's all right," She said softly, one hand coming up to wipe the
tears off his face.  "You tried, it's not your fault..."  
To her surprise, she saw that the tears had frozen into ice on his face,
and she couldn't wipe them away. 
 Mulder shook his head, guilt evident in his eyes. 
	"I should've woken up sooner, maybe they would've seen the
flares-"
	
"Mulder, that's not your fault.  I didn't even wake up until I heard the
flares going off.  How could you expect yourself to wake up the second you
hear a little humming noise?"  
Mulder stared at her for a long time.  After a moment, he took her hand,
staring down at it.  Her hands were chapped, and they had cracked and bled
across her knuckles. He did not notice his hands were in even worse
condition than hers... he concentrated only on her suffering.  
He sighed. 
	"I should have heard it," He said finally, dropping her hand, and
he walked past her back to the plane.
  Scully was very disappointed and disheartened that plane hadn't seen
them, but she did not blame her friend.  He had tried his best, and yet he
still blamed himself for something that was out of his hands.  
After a moment, she followed him back to the grounded plane.  The snow
he'd pushed up was up to her chest, and she hurried to get back to the
plane before the walls came down around her.  She reached the plane and
shut the door firmly behind her.  She watched as Mulder put his gun back
in it's holster and put it on his belt, then came back to her and led her
to the fire, which was now only glowing red coals.  
Mulder added more paper and then some wood to the embers and blew on it,
and soon the fire was going again.  He took Riffman's coat off and put it
around her shoulders, ignoring her protests.  He was silent, his face
grave.
  He was about to sit down next to her when he noticed his coat, the one
she'd put around them last night, lying on the ground.  
Mechanically, he picked it up and handed it to Scully.  She watched him as
he sat down next to her, shivering in only the thin flannel shirt he wore.
 
Something inside her snapped.
  Scully jumped up and tore off Riffman's jacket and threw it at Mulder.
He ducked, surprised at her sudden rage.  She grabbed his sports coat and
smacked him over the head with it, tears streaming down her face.
	
"God damn you, Mulder!" She nearly screamed at him.  "All you ever do is
protect *me*, never even thinking about your *own* safety!  And I'm *sick*
of it!  You won't even tell me *why* you're doing it!"  Mulder opened his
mouth to say something, but she shook her finger at him.
  Scully's eyes were blazing.  Her head was aching unmercifully, but she
ignored it.  
"Don't you *dare* say it's because I'm your *friend*!"  She cried. "That's
*bullshit*, Mulder!  Your life is worth as much as mine!" She spread her
hands.  "Is it because you're afraid you'll lose me, like Samantha?"  She
raged.  "What is it?"  
Mulder was lying on his back, staring at her while she vented her fury at
him.  He'd never seen her so angry in his life.  Even cold and sick and
weak, she was up in arms, screaming at him. 
 
She looked amazing.  

Mulder mentally slapped himself for that.
  Scully continued. 	"All I want to know is *why* you only think of
*me*!  Why you're killing yourself to help me!  I think I have a right to
know what the bloody *hell* is wrong with you!" She stopped, trying to
catch her breath.  Her head was swimming, and she leaned against the wall.
 
Mulder saw immediately she was about to pass out again.  He jumped up and
just barely managed to catch her.
  "Just tell me...why...." She murmured, fighting to stay conscious. 
Mulder gently helped her lie down, and covered her with his sports coat. 
Had she been fully conscious, he decided, she'd have killed him for that. 

"Please..." She whispered, her eyes meeting his. "*Why*..."  

Mulder felt his heart stop in his chest.  
He knew he had to tell her now... or he might never have the chance again.
 Scully was shivering violently, and her face took on a deathly grayish
cast.  She was going into shock, and that combined with the freezing
temperatures and her concussion... he knew it was a very real possibility
that she might die within the next twenty-four hours.  
He made his decision then to give up all pretenses and, hell with
everything else - tell her how he truly felt - before it could be too
late.....  
	But, before he could even form any words, he felt an odd
sensation, an almost instinctual feeling that something was wrong.  
He lifted his head and stared at Dana.  
She was utterly still, her face ashy and her lips nearly white.  Her chest
wasn't rising.
  
Cold, stark fear raced through him as he realized she wasn't breathing.

**********
<kg>


===========================================================================

From: ldyducatnp@aol.com (LdyDucatnp)
Newsgroups: alt.tv.x-files.creative
Subject: New story - "Crash" 8/12
Date: 18 May 1996 17:55:56 -0400


==================================
"Crash" (8/12)
By Kerry Gallo (xasj82c@prodigy.com)
and Sarah Roby (LadyDucatnip@prodigy.com)
==================================

**Disclaimer on Chapter One**


				    -= Chapter Eight =-


	Mulder grasped her shoulders and shook her.  "Dana??!!??", he
yelled at her,  "Dana!!!  Answer Me!!!".  She did not respond.  He
frantically checked her pulse, his own hands shaking with the cold.... and
the fear.  'No!', he told himself.  'I won't lose her!  Not now!  Not
ever!!'.  He detected a pulse; not strong, but it was there.  Then what
the hell was wrong?, he screamed in his mind.  He wasn't the doctor
here... but wait!  A tiny shred of an old memory came back to him.  Her
tongue... she could have swallowed her tongue!  Mulder recalled his
mandatory emergency first-aid courses at Quantico with his eidetic
memory.... 'Remove the blockage', he heard in his mind, 'and the
concussion victim should begin breathing on their own.....'
	Without hesitation, Mulder reached up, tilted Scully's head back,
and pulled open her mouth.  She hadn't swallowed her tongue....  Now
Mulder began to panic.
	"Dana!!", he yelled again, shaking her harder.  He checked her
pulse again, just to make sure... it was still there... stronger, even. 
Her face had even begun to regain a hint of color... what the *hell*?? 
Why wasn't she *breathing*??  
	
"I love you Dana... *please*" He whispered quickly, his voice filled with
honest emotion.  "I've loved you for as long as I can remember, and I
don't want to lose you...  I'm so afraid I'll lose you.... don't you
*dare* leave me now!!"
	Mulder began mouth-to-mouth resuscitation.  He watched her chest
rise with his exhale, and slowly lower.  Still nothing.  "Come on, Dana,
please... I love you", he pleaded to her aloud.  Another breath.  Her
chest rose and fell again.  Scully's color got even better - at least she
was getting some oxygen.  He checked her again.  Pulse - okay... but, she
nevertheless was not breathing on her own.  Mulder frantically leaned over
her again, and began breathing for her.  He once again watched her chest
rise.  He had just barely removed his mouth from hers to take a deep
breath when he felt a weight on the back of his neck, preventing him from
moving any more than an inch from her.  It took him a second of working
through the confusion to realize it was Dana's hand.  Mulder immediately
turned his head so that he saw her eyes.  They were open!  His initial
feeling of joy subsided with a thought : she could breathe all along,
couldn't she?  No, no, the Dana he knew wouldn't do that.....
	His denial ended abruptly when he was able to pull back from her
enough to see all of her face.  A very faint smile touched her
faintly-pinkish lips, and her eyes held a look of what he could term as
almost.... satisfaction?  Mulder's own eyes widened in disbelief as he
stared down at her.  An unbearable silence continued between them, until
Scully calmly took in a breath and began speaking softly.
	"I didn't want to have to scare you.... but I had to know...", she
said.  "I'm sorry, Mulder..."  Mulder shook his head at her, his mouth
forming words that his throat couldn't generate.  He closed his eyes
momentarily, then opened them slowly.  A new emotion had taken over his
eyes - anger.  
	"You.... you could breathe that *entire* time?  Oh, Jesus Christ,
Scully!  Why?  Why would you deliberately do that to me!?!?", he cried,
breathing raggedly.  She sat up and stared at him.  When she didn't answer
right away, he once again asked, quieter this time, "Why, Dana?  Answer
me!!".  Scully focused her eyes on the floor in front of her.
	"Like I said, Mulder.... I had to find out what was going on with
you, with us..... what you were feeling......", she said gently, calmly. 
"I didn't want to find out, this way, by doing that, how you felt, but I
needed to know if you...", she paused, and her eyes slowly met his with a
confidence she really didn't feel.  "if you were acting the way you
were.... because.... you felt the same way I did..."
	Mulder's mouth went slack as all the anger disappeared from his
eyes, and his mind processed what she had just said.  His heart lept, but
he kept any strong reaction from his face.  He had to be sure of what she
said.
	"Dana?  Are you saying... what I think you're saying.... or have I
already died of hypothermia and gone to heaven?", he asked, only
half-jokingly.  Scully kept a serious, but gentle expression on her face
as she replied, sincerity filling her voice.
	"Yes, Mul.... *Fox*... I am saying I love you too... "  Mulder had
been resting his weight forward onto his knees, but her words carried an
almost physical impact and he fell backward.  His eyes never left hers,
however, and for probably the first time in their partnership, he had no
joke or snappy comeback to make.  His mind was overwhelmed with every
emotion ever named, and her words echoed in his head, "...I love you
too...".   
Oh, God... she loved him!  It was all he had ever hoped and wished
for..... but....

	Scully watched him, gauging his reaction with a certain amount of
trepidation, waiting for him to say something, anything.  But, he seemed
lost in thought... or... wait...  'Oh, please, no...', Dana cried in her
mind.  'Was he only saying that because he thought I was dying and wanted
to keep me alive?  What now... if that's true?'  Dana's head lowered as
she gazed down at her feet, thinking.  'Of course.... that has to be
it.... he's thinking of what to say to spare my feelings.... oh God... why
didn't I just keep my big mouth shut...?'
	"Dana?  What are you thinking?"  She looked up abruptly.  How had
he moved closer to her without her realizing it?, she wondered.  Scully
searched his face with her eyes, straining to see what he was really
feeling.
	"Nothing....", she began, and averted her eyes.  He interrupted
her with a voice full of frustration.
	"Don't tell me 'nothing', alright?"  He carefully took her cheek
in his hand and tilted her face upward again so that she had to look at
him.  She took in a deep breath, and let it out slowly, but was incapable
of a response, and incapable of looking him in the eye - for fear of what
she might see.
	"Dana...", he began softly.  "I meant it when I said I loved you
earlier.  I didn't say it to mislead you; please believe me... I do love
you."  She looked up at him, her eyes filling with tears threatening to
spill over.  "I know my timing really stinks... but, when I thought I
might have lost you again.... I had to tell you.  Nothing else mattered to
me at that moment; not my sister, not my own death... nothing.  Nothing
except you, Dana...."  He paused and gave a small chuckle.  "Like I said,
my timing *really* stinks...."  Scully silenced him with the light touch
of her fingers on his lips and looked him straight in the eye, her face
threatening to betray her joy.
	"I don't care if it took a plane crash and us getting stuck here
in the middle of nowhere to get you to say that.... at least now I know
that you *do* feel the same way", she smiled and let her fingers fall
gently from his face.  "And I finally was able to use your damn
over-protectiveness problem to my advantage for once!"  At this, Mulder
smiled too, and looked at her with a questioning glance.
	"I just have to know two things, Dana.  First, how in God's name
were you able to consciously turn that *lovely* shade of white, and
second, do you need an escort to the Oscar Awards this year, because I'm
sure you're going to be nominated for your captivat-ing performance here,
Agent Scully...."  Scully rolled her eyes.
	"Mulder, I was raised with two brothers.  When I was little, if I
ever wanted anything from them, I would have to throw a temper-tantrum,
threaten, and then actually hold my breath until I turned blue.  Then, Mom
would make them do or get me whatever I wanted."  Her voice turned
serious.  "And, no, I don't want to be recognized in any way for my
"performance", Mulder... I really feel horrible for doing that, and I'm
still very sorry..."  Mulder placed his hands over hers, his chapped
knuckles only allowing him to squeeze gently.
	"I know...", he said.  "But, don't you ever do that again!"  
	"I won't unless I can help it.... really I'm still not feeling all
that well... and you..."  She shook her head in exasperation.  "Look at
you!  You're soaked from the waist down, probably going to catch
pneumonia, and here I am, babbling away, letting you get colder!  Some
doctor I am..."  Her tone became no-nonsense as she down-shifted into what
Mulder liked to call her 'doctor mode'.  "Okay, Mulder, first order of
business.... we've got to get you out of those wet jeans, and..."  Scully
stood up somewhat unsteadily, and began looking around the cabin,
completely oblivious to Mulder's half-shocked, half-intrigued reaction to
her words.  After a moment of gathering her thoughts, she turned back to
him.  "And, I guess you could use the parachute as a cover-up until they
dry...."  His chortled snicker brought her train of thought to an abrupt
end as she stared down at him.
	"Scully... you're serious, aren't you?", he asked her, trying to
appear somewhat composed.  She only looked back at him, a perplexed look
on her face as she tried to figure out why in the world he found this
funny.  Then the obvious showed itself.
	"Oh, Mulder!!  Will you please, just this once, try and act
somewhat mature?", she asked.  But, then, the strangeness of what she had
just told him hit her, and she too had to fight back a chuckle.  Once she
regained a semi-composed look, she continued quietly, almost a whisper,
"Besides, Mulder, if I had been talking about *that*, I would have asked a
lot nicer....".  She thoroughly enjoyed the suddenly embarrassed look that
crept onto his features, but only for a moment before she forced herself
once again to concentrate on the seriousness of their situation.  
	"Now... back to what I was saying....", she said, once again
all-business.  "Get out of those wet pants, cover up, get dry.  Then, you
can take this", she reached over and picked up his suit coat, "and this",
also grabbing Riffman's jacket, "and put them on...."  He began to
protest, but she silenced him with The Look.  "No buts, Mulder.... I've
got on two t-shirts and a sweater, while you've got one shirt....."
	"Okay, no 'buts', but what about a compromise?"  Scully looked at
him skeptically, her patience starting to wear thin.
	"Okay, I'll bite.  What compromise?"
	"You take Riffman's coat, it's lined at least, and I'll take the
suit coat.  Deal?"  She began to shake her head 'no', but he kept on. 
"Okay, then... the coat will just sit on the floor, useless, because I'm
not going to wear it - the suit coat will be enough.  Now do you agree?" 
Scully closed her eyes, then reopened them, sighing softly.
	"On one condition,...."
	"What?"
	"That you take these..."  She fished in her jeans pocket for the
socks, and held them out to him.
	"And what, exactly, am I supposed to do with those?"
	"Mulder, for a man with a Ph.D., you can be pretty slow
sometimes....", she said with a hint of a smile, to let him know she was
teasing him.  "You see socks, I see a use as  makeshift mittens
perhaps..."  
	"But, Dana..... your hands are about as bad as mine...."
	"No socks, no deal Mulder", she began.  "Besides, the suit coat
doesn't have any pockets."  With a grudging sigh, he took the suit coat
and socks from her, and put on the coat.  It helped, but it didn't do much
to stop his shivering.  
	"Now", Scully said, "about those pants...."

**********
<sr>


===========================================================================

From: ldyducatnp@aol.com (LdyDucatnp)
Newsgroups: alt.tv.x-files.creative
Subject: New story - "Crash" 9/12
Date: 18 May 1996 17:56:17 -0400


==================================
"Crash" (9/12)
By Kerry Gallo (xasj82c@prodigy.com)
and Sarah Roby (LadyDucatnip@prodigy.com)
==================================

**Disclaimer on Chapter One**


				    -= Chapter Nine =-


	Mulder looked at her for a moment helplessly, then narrowed his
eyes. 

	"That was a mean trick to play on me," He said, shaking his finger
at her.  "I won't allow you the pleasure of watching."  
Scully sighed, but had to smile. 
	"This time," She added as she turned her back.
	"This time," He echoed, smiling, watching her carefully while he
stripped to only his boxers and undershirt.  She did not move, but in
reality Scully really, *really* wanted to turn around.
  But he was right; Fair is fair, and he certainly was getting his revenge
now.  
When she heard him stop moving, Scully reached out and pulled the
parachute off the lean-to and held it out behind her.  She felt Mulder
pull it from her hand.

	"Okay, you can turn around," He said.  She did, and saw him
standing there wrapped in the parachute.

	"You have no idea-" She said softly, her eyes taking on a devilish
glint as she walked towards him slowly,  "-How hard that was for me."  She
lightly trailed her fingertips over his face, then pulled them away
abruptly, enjoying the look of disappointment on his face.
  "Okay, you *swear* you're wearing the suitcoat under the parachute?" She
asked, taking on her serious I Doctor, You Patient, You Have No Rights
look.

	"I swear," He answered, rolling his eyes good-naturedly at *her*
overprotective-ness.  
	"Good. Now take these socks-" She said, picking them up. "-And put
them on your hands."  
Mulder did as she ordered, then sat down by the fire.
  Scully watched him, then said, "Do you have to go to the bathroom?"  
Mulder looked at her like she was crazy. 	"I already went, *mom*,"
He said, irritated.  
Scully shrugged. 
	"Knowing you, you forgot."
	"Well, I haven't eaten much, so I don't really have to worry about
*that*."  
Scully chuckled. 
	"Well, you've been eating snow for water, right?  If not, we can
add dehydration to the growing list of *your* ailments."
	"Did it," He answered.  "*And*, you'll be glad to know, I washed
the cut on my temple."  He pointed.  "See?  I'm all grown up."  
Scully smiled, examining the cut.  He had cleaned it up, and it looked all
right. She touched it gently, and he gave a little whimper.

	"Owie," He said, his eyes huge and puppyish.
	"Aww, poor Mulder..." She said dryly, but kissed the cut anyway. 
He smiled. 	"Thank you, mommy."
	"You're welcome, dear," She answered, then sat down herself. 
"Here, eat some of these," She said, handing him the few carrot sticks and
celery left.  Mulder looked like he was going to say something, but he'd
begun feeling the effects of his little walk, and was shivering.  Besides,
he was cold, wet, hungry, and exhausted.  He took a carrot stick out of
the bag and chewed on it quietly.
  Scully watched him, then got up and went to the lean-to.  She took her
gun, then went to the door.
  "I'll be right back," She said to him over her shoulder, intending to go
to the bathroom.  The gun was just a precaution...the wolves might be
back.
  Scully poked her head out of the plane and looked around...no wolves.
  She stepped out and walked down the now-frozen trail of pushed up snow. 
As she went farther, she saw the snow was melting a little, and was now
only up to mid-thigh. This was good, she decided.  If they wanted to try
and hike out, they might be able to.
  She went about ten feet beyond the trail and did what came naturally. 
When she'd finished, she stood up and glanced around her.  
Something caught her eye.
  Two tiny small black spheres stared up at her from about ten feet away. 
She stared at the eyes, then slowly saw the outline of a large white
rabbit.  She raised her gun and fired, just as the rabbit was getting
ready to leap away.
  But even a rabbit couldn't outrun a bullet, and it fell backwards, a red
stain on it's chest contrasting sharply with the white surroundings.  
Scully walked over and picked up the rabbit by the back legs.  It was big,
and fat.  She smiled.  
Suddenly, the door to the plane opened, and Mulder stepped out, looking
frantic. 
	He saw her, and called out, "Are you okay? I heard a shot! Are the
wolves back?"  
Scully shook her head. 
	"No! I got us dinner!"  
Mulder looked relieved, and waited for her until she came back into the
plane.
  He followed her back to the fire. Then a thought struck him.  He went to
the emergency kit and rummaged through it.  There he found a small
scalpel.  	"Here," He said, handing it to her handle-first.  "You
can...do whatever you need to with that."  He looked slightly squeamish as
she quickly skinned the rabbit and put the bloody hide aside.
	"You learn a lot growing up with two brothers," She commented as
she gutted the animal.  "They'd take me rabbit hunting with them.  You
know, it's actually grosser skinning a rabbit than performing an autopsy
on a person... I'm not sure why.  I guess because the rabbits are still
all warm and bloody inside and bodies have been dead for a while-"
	"Okay, please..." Mulder interrupted, looking down at his
sock-covered hands to avoid the bloody carcass.  
Scully grinned. 
	"Okay."  Then she looked around and spotted a short metal rod,
which she stuck through the gutted rabbit's body cavity.  She held it over
the fire, watching the flames go to work cooking the meat.  
"The snow is melting a little," She commented.  "It's still high, but we
could hike out now."
	"That's a good idea," He answered.  "We've got a map."  His face
sobered.  "I guess that's really our only option...no one will find us out
here until-" He stopped.  She knew what he was thinking, and nodded in
agreement.
  *Until we're already dead.*

	"I guess we should rest and conserve energy for the rest of today,
then set out tomorrow morning," She said.  Mulder nodded.

	"All right. And we should pack whatever supplies we'll
need...matches, the parachute...we can use that to make a shelter at
night."
	"Okay.  I'll pack up after we've eaten.  You rest," She said.  
Then they were silent, listening to the crackle of the fire and the sizzle
of the meat.  When the rabbit was finished cooking, they ate silently,
putting aside some for their journey.  
Afterwards, Scully went and found as much supplies as she could.  She took
the food and emergency kit and rolled them up in a section of the seat
felt she'd taken from one of the windows.  She tied the roll up with some
of the thin rope she'd found in the emergency kit.  She put the supplies
by the door for tomorrow.
  She felt a little apprehensive, but she knew setting out into the
wilderness was the only way they'd have even a fraction of a chance of
surviving.  She was a little scared, but at least Mulder was there...
 And at least she finally knew he loved her. 
She had to smile at that, feeling her heart flutter a little as she
remembered his words, and his joy at learning she felt the same way about
him.  
But then reality hit her, and she felt apprehension.  It wasn't fair that
the chances were ninety-nine to one that they'd die on their hike out so
soon after they'd finally found each other.  
But we have to *try*, damn it! She told herself angrily.  We have to
*try*.  
Scully felt a wave of dizziness again and sat down next to Mulder.  He
enfolded her in his arms and kissed her forehead tenderly.

	"You okay?" He asked softly. 
	"Yeah...just nervous," She answered.
	"I know. Me too," He said, and stroked her hair gently.  "But
we'll be okay...we'll get out of this."  
She nodded silently, praying he was right.  



	The next morning, they were both warm, fed, and well-rested.
  Mulder changed back into his dry clothes, but kept the parachute around
him. Scully nodded with approval at this; She considered it a miracle he
didn't have hypothermia by now.  They looked at the map first, spreading
it out by the fire, to determine which direction to go in.
	"Here," Mulder said, pointing to a small area of the map.  "This
is the closest town, since we're about here," He pointed to another area
to the west in the mountains. His eidetic memory had remembered the last
coordinates the pilot had said aloud, only about half an hour before the
plane had crashed.  They weren't in the exact spot Riffman had mentioned,
but it was close enough.
  Scully looked over his shoulder.  
	"That town's about forty miles from here..."  She said slowly,
then sat back, rubbing her temples.  
Mulder was silent, knowing how challenging the hike ahead would be.  Deep
down, he knew there was no way they could survive...
But they had to *try*.  All his life he'd tried to find Samantha, had
tried despite the odds, and he wasn't going to give up on something like
this.  Not now.
  Mulder put his arm around her gently. 
	"It's okay," He said, pulling her closer to him. 
She nodded, and her face took on a determined look. 
	"We can't give up," She said, looking him in the eyes.  "No matter
what, we have to try."  
He nodded, and kissed her gently.  She kissed him back, wishing it could
last forever, but knowing they had more important things to do.  She
pulled away from him reluctantly, and saw the look of understanding in his
eyes.  "Which way's east?"  She asked.  
Mulder pointed left.  "Okay..." She said, standing up slowly.  "Let's look
around once more for anything we might need, then...I guess we leave." 
She took the map and folded it, putting it in the pocket of Riffman's
coat.
  Mulder stood and took the sock gloves off his hands.  Then, he laid the
parachute out and piled the firewood onto it.  He closed it up into a form
of sack, and tied it shut with some of the rope.
  But when he tried to pick it up, he found it was way too heavy.  But
what could they do, leave their wood here?  The wood outside, if there was
any, would be wet from the snow.  
Scully saw his dilemma, and was annoyed.  They needed a fire, but how
could they carry all that wood for forty miles?  
Suddenly, her eyes fell upon the metal rods left from their lean-to, and
inspiration struck.  
	"Mulder, we can make the metal rods and felt from the seats into a
sort of... travois."
  Mulder grasped her idea, and nodded. 
	"Okay, that'll work,"  
Together, they tied rods of metal together into a rectangular frame with
the rope, with shorter crossbars in the middle for support.  Then they
tied their bundles of supplies and the sack of wood to the metal
crossbars.  There were two ends of the metal rods protruding from the
front corners, so it could be dragged over the ground.  
Scully smiled with satisfaction, then looked up at Mulder. 

	"Well, I guess we're ready..." She said.
	"Yup," He answered, standing up taller.  
She took a deep breath.  
	"So...let's go."


*********
<kg>


===========================================================================

From: ldyducatnp@aol.com (LdyDucatnp)
Newsgroups: alt.tv.x-files.creative
Subject: New story - "Crash" 10/12
Date: 18 May 1996 17:56:55 -0400


==================================
"Crash" (10/12)
By Kerry Gallo (xasj82c@prodigy.com)
and Sarah Roby (LadyDucatnip@prodigy.com)
==================================

**Disclaimer on Chapter One**


				    -= Chapter Ten =-


	Scully reached down and lifted up one pole of the travois with her
right hand as Mulder did the same with his left.  With his right hand,
Mulder lifted the handle on the door, unlocking it, and pushed it open,
moving back a ridge of snow in its path.  They stepped from the relative
safety of the plane and pulled their load out behind them.  The sun had
only begun its rise over the mountains to their right, and they both knew
they had to make a lot of distance before nightfall.  Looking to his left,
however, Mulder felt the same sinking feeling that they weren't going to
be able to hike forty miles through all the snow embankments, forests, and
God knew what else.  Apparently, his face reflected his fears, and
although Scully felt the same, she was still very determined to remain
optimistic and get out of this - alive.    
	"Hey...", she said firmly, slapping his arm lightly to get his
attention.  He started, and turned to face her.  "We're going to be fine,
understand?"  He nodded and smiled lightly at her, trying to make himself
feel part of the assurance she did.  Mulder raised his hand to his
forehead in a mock salute.
	"Yes ma'am...", he drawled in an awful southern-type accent, and
brought his hand back down swiftly to his side.  Scully smiled back
briefly, and they began making their way through the three-foot high snow
drifts, dragging their supplies along, careful to keep the rising sun at
their backs. 
	

	After what felt like an eternity to Dana of trudging through
endless white powder, she had to stop.  'We must have gone at least 10
miles already,' she rationalized.  
	"Mulder, I've gotta stop for a minute...", she told him, breathing
in and out deeply.
 	"Thank God... I was wondering when you would say that...", he said
as a sigh of relief escaped him.  They drug the travois over to a rock not
completely covered in snow, let it fall from their hands as they both sat
heavily on the fairly flat surface of the stone.  Dana looked at her watch
to check their time.  
	"Well", she said.  "We started out at about eight this morning,
and it's almost one now... I figure we've come about ten miles so far, and
it's another ten or twelve to the river we saw on the map west of here. 
We should make it there around nightfall I guess?" She stopped and turned
toward him, looking for a confirmation to her estimates.  Instead of
offering an opinion of his own or strengthening her assumption, he was
just watching her, examining her every move.  When he finally realized she
had stopped talking and was waiting for an answer, he came snapped out of
his musings and shook himself slightly.
	"Sorry, Scully.... um... yeah, that.... that sounds right...."  he
turned and looked back at the trail they had made behind them in the snow.
 "Dana?", he asked.  "Do you think anyone will come looking for us, for
the plane?  Are we doing the right thing here?"
She shrugged lightly.
	"We can't be sure of anything, Mulder.  But, Riffman couldn't get
the coordinates out to anyone over the radio, so they'll be searching a
very large area... I don't know....."  She sighed.  "I wonder what
Skinner's thinking right now?", she said, a little amused.  
	"Probably that we've run off to some tropical island resort and
we're sitting on some beach right now, sipping drinks with those little
umbrellas in them - all on the federal government's money.....".  He
paused and shivered against the cold, wrapping his arms tight around his
rib cage, his almost playful tone turning more serious.  "No... I'm sure
he's got something in the works by now."
	"Yeah..." she began.  Scully reached down beside her and opened up
the bundle on the travois that held the food they had brought along.  She
quickly took a glancing inven- tory, 'gum, a few remaining carrot and
celery sticks, and some rabbit meat we put out to dry last night...'.  Not
a lot, but it would have to do.  
	"You hungry?", she asked.  He seemed to hesitate only a
split-second before answering.
	"Not really... you go ahead."  Frustrated, she thrust her hand
into the pack, took hold of a medium-size piece of rabbit meat, and shoved
it under his nose, causing him to jump slightly in surprise.
	"I don't care - eat it.", she said curtly.  Mulder reluctantly
took it from her and began chewing on the tough animal flesh slowly.  "You
need your strength...", she said as she selected a smaller piece for
herself as well.  "And so do I."  She also began to eat, gazing to her
right at the route they would have to take to get to the river, thinking. 
Her thoughts were interrupted by a small chuckle.  Scully turned her head
around to stare at Mulder with confusion.  He had been looking at her
back, but now he turned and looked down at himself, and chuckled again,
only a little louder this time.  She could find nothing humorous about
their situation, and she told him so, in no uncertain terms.
	"I'm... I'm sorry, Dana.... it's just that...", he stopped to get
a breath, trying to control his laughter.  "I mean... *look* at us!  I
really don't have a death wish, Dana, but I find *this* at least a little
funny.  Here we are, trudging through three feet of snow, being extremely
fashionably challenged," she took in a glimpse of him - green and white
flannel shirt, jeans, and a suit coat... and her, well...a white t-shirt
under a pink t-shirt under a slightly charred beige sweater... covered by
a red and yellow jacket.  She almost laughed too.  "..Freezing our asses
off, hands becoming more frostbitten by the second, my growing beard
making me look more like Grizzly Adams by the day, ... I mean, Jesus...
this seems like a position *I'd* get myself, or us, into!"  Scully finally
let a smile light up her face, and laughed under her breath.  
	"Well, if this *had* been your fault, I wouldn't have killed that
*rabbit* for food..." she said teasingly.  "As it is... I'd rather look
*back* on this and laugh.  Right now, let's finish eating, rest up a
little more, and make it to that river before nightfall..."  He nodded in
agreement, and shivered again.  Scully watched him for a moment, then
scooted herself next to him, and pressed lightly against him.
	"Oh....", he said, not shivering quite as much now, "*that's*
better..." 
	"I live to serve", she said tauntingly.
	"Later, I think, I might take you up on that offer..." he said
softly, warmly, his voice carrying a light teasing tone.  She began eating
the rest of her rabbit piece to skirt a reply, her amusement, and to
concentrate on something other than what was running through her mind. 

	After they were both done, they stood slowly brushing snow off
their pants.  Both bent down to scoop up a handful of snow and consume it
for water.  Scully excused herself to make a trip into the woods, and,
while she was gone, Mulder quickly placed the half-eaten piece of rabbit
meat he had slipped into his coat sleeve back into the pack, and reclosed
it.  She would kill him, but, until then, he felt that's what he needed to
do.  Scully returned after a minute or so, and Mulder did the same,
returning even quicker.  After re- orientating themselves on direction
with the moving sun, re-checking the map, Scully reached into her pocket
and pulled out the pair of socks Mulder had used as mittens and handed one
to him.  He waited until he saw what she meant for him to do - he watched
she slipped it around the end of her metal pole, and he did the same.
	"Ready?", she asked, picking up her pole.
	"As ready as I'm going to be....", Mulder stated, also picking up
his part of the travois.  Scully nodded, and they both turned the
makeshift dray, and began heading west once again.  

	
	The sun had just begun to set as they reached the river.  It had
been frozen in the recent storms and freezing temperatures, but, because
of the clear, warmer day, had begun to flow again, albeit a bit slow.  The
banks were covered in slushy, thawing snow, but they finally came upon a
spot farther downstream that was higher in elevation, closer to trees they
could construct the "tent" up against and that most of the snow had melted
off of.  Scully and Mulder dropped their respective poles exhaustedly at
the same time, breathing deeply, trying to catch their breath.  
	"Let's get this tent put up....", Mulder suggested after he
finally was able to speak clearly.  Scully nodded, and together they
stripped the parachute from the poles, setting aside their wood and other
supplies.  After a moment, they decided to lean their makeshift tent up
against a small group of three pine trees that were relatively close
together.  Mulder jammed the top of the poles against the middle tree by
shoving the bottom ends into the ground and pushing them onto the tree
until they were stable.  Scully helped him drape the orange and white
parachute over the poles, front and back, until it created an open space
inside it.  They moved the supplies into the shelter, but used a couple
pieces of wood to weight down a couple folds of the parachute outside.  
	They both took a needed moment to rest, sitting down outside the
shelter, listening to the sounds around them.  Birds chirped to
themselves, small animals moved restlessly in the underbrush in the forest
behind them, and the sound of the river seemed to have gotten much louder.
 
	"I'm going to go check out the river...", Scully said softly as
she got up slowly, placing a light hand on his shoulder, and then started
making her way down to the banks.
	"Be careful...", Mulder cautioned her.  She turned back toward
him, and regarded him with a gentle look.
	"I will...", she said before turning back to the river.  Mulder
watched after her until she was out of sight, hidden by trees and the
upsloping bank.

	Scully watched the rushing river water rush by with awe.  The
setting sun had given the water a dark, deep appearance as it made it's
way downstream into the faster rapids downstream.  She walked to the edge
of the river, knelt down, and ladled a handful of water into her hand and
brought it up to her lips.  The water stung her hand intensely, but she
ignored the pain as her thirst took priority.
	After she was finished drinking, her eye caught a flash of
movement to her right. Startled, she looked up, but saw nothing.  She was
about to go back to the campsite when the flash happened again.  But, this
time she saw what it had been.  
	A fish had been jumping from the river water, and splashing back
down into it.  Scully thought fish would make an excellent meal tonight,
and, even though she didn't have a fishing rod, a number of fish seemed to
be jumping at random near a dead tree which lay mostly on the bank, but
extended out to the deeper part of the river.  It would be a risk, but she
couldn't think of how they could find anything better than what they
brought after dark fell.  
	The tree had fallen about one hundred yards from the rapids, and
Scully shivered involuntarily at the thought of falling in, but began
slowly crossing out onto the tree trunk carefully, very cautious of every
step she took.  She reached the edge, and perched herself as stable as she
could make herself there, and waited for the right moment.
	About five minutes later, her muscles started to ache from being
off-balance, and her earlier exhaustion began to catch up with her.  She
was about to forget the whole thing when she saw a shadow of a fish
beginning to make it's way down to where she waited.  Scully gazed once at
the sun above.... about ten minutes until sundown.  Now or never.
	The fish swum under her, along the end of the tree trunk and
luckily jumped out of the water before it completely passed by the log. 
But, as she hurriedly reached out to catch the fish as it fell back down,
her right sneaker slipped on the still damp wood, twist-ing her off
balance, and she slipped off the top of the log, barely able to catch
herself on the very end.  She hung there from a protruding limb for a
moment, stunned.  Her shoes and ankles were under water, but the rest of
her was dry for the time being.  
	The ever-present exhaustion numbing her body made it impossible to
pull herself up, even though she tried time and time again.  Scully hated
to resort to this, but she was just a hair's-width away from losing her
grip on the branch all together.  She needed help.  Now.
	Dana filled her lungs with air and shouted as loud as she could,
trying to make sure she would be heard over the freezing water rushing
past her legs, threatening to take her under and drag her away.
	"*MULDER*!!  HELP!!!"

**********
<sr>


===========================================================================

From: ldyducatnp@aol.com (LdyDucatnp)
Newsgroups: alt.tv.x-files.creative
Subject: New story - "Crash" 11/12
Date: 18 May 1996 17:57:03 -0400


==================================
"Crash" (11/12)
By Kerry Gallo (xasj82c@prodigy.com)
and Sarah Roby (LadyDucatnip@prodigy.com)
==================================

**Disclaimer on Chapter One**


				    -= Chapter Eleven =-


	The second Mulder heard her cry for help, he was on his feet.  As
he threw himself out of the lean-to, horrible thoughts of what were
happening to her flashed through his mind.  
He tore his way to the banks of the river, and stumbled down, nearly
falling into the rushing water.  His eyes were huge, and his heart was
racing.  He looked around for Dana, and could not find her.  His heart
stopped altogether.
  Then-
	"Mulder!  Here!" 
He turned and looked. About 100 yards away, she was hanging on the very
edge of a log in the middle of the river.  She was holding tightly onto a
branch, which looked like it might snap at any moment.  Her feet dangled
into the water.  To his disgust, he felt anger rise in him...but he knew
he was angry because she'd put herself in danger.  He didn't want to lose
her, but sometimes she seemed to have a death wish.  He felt a brief flash
of irony remembering she felt the same way about him.
  
	He ran as fast as he could to her, terrified she'd fall in.  The
water moved swiftly, and he knew it must be ice cold from the runoffs of
mountain snow.
  He stopped when he reached the log, wondering what to do.  She merely
looked at him, her eyes wide.  She was holding on for dear life, but her
body looked limp, without energy.  
Mulder was frantic. 
	"Okay, don't worry. I'll get you outta this..."
	"That's *my* line..." She said dryly, her head sagging with
exhaustion.  He felt his heart jump when her fingers slipped a little, and
knew he had to act fast.
  He jumped up onto the log, and slowly began to inch his way down it to
her.  When he'd reached the end, he held out a cautious hand.  The log was
slippery, and he had to fight to keep his balance. He kneeled down,
wrapping his legs around the log tightly to keep from falling.  
Mulder leaned over as far as he could, arm extended.  The other hand
tightly gripped a dead branch, holding himself on the log.
	"Grab my hand!" He shouted over the rushing water.
  Scully knew for a moment she'd have no support, because if she wanted to
grab his hand, she'd have to let go of the branch.  
After a second, she let go of the branch with her right hand and grabbed
his hand. Then, when she was sure he was holding her tightly, she let go
with her left hand.  Her hands gripped his tightly.  
Mulder took a deep breath and pulled her up.  His arm strained with her
weight.  He cursed himself for not eating that rabbit meat, for hunger
only made him weaker when he needed all his strength.
  Somehow, he managed to pull her up.  Using the last of her strength,
Scully threw her leg over the log and hauled herself upright. Mulder's
hand dropped from hers, and he sat there, limp and weak.  
She was trembling, exhausted, and short of breath. 
 It was stupid to try and get that fish, she thought angrily. You knew the
log was slippery, but noooo, you had to go and stand on it over a freezing
river...
She looked up at Mulder.  His head was down, and his entire body was limp.
 For a moment, she thought he was angry.
	"Mulder, I'm sorry..." She began, hesitant.  She reached out and
touched his shoulder lightly.  He did not answer, look up, or even move.
  Scully's own senses and reflexes were weakened, and when he began to
slip off the log, she was not able to catch him.  She'd realized too late
he was unconscious, passed out from the exhaustion of overexerting
himself.
	"*Mulder*!" She screamed as he hit the water and disappeared
beneath it. 
 She saw his figure, face down, rushing with the water downstream, and
wondered for a moment if she was in a nightmare. 
 She scrambled down the long as fast as she could towards the banks of the
river, her legs looped around its slippery surface.
  When she reached land, she jumped off the log, forcing her rubbery legs
to run downstream, following Mulder's still form.  The water was moving
fast, and taking him with it.  He was already far in front of her.  
Her heart was racing in her chest, and her breath came in ragged gasps. 
Her legs ached unmercifully, but she ran as fast as she humanly could to
reach him.  She could see the water carrying him, his body bobbing up and
down.  He did not move.  
Just when she thought there was no hope left, she'd never reach him, a
miracle happened.
  An old beaver dam, half of it washed away, stood lopsidedly in the
middle of the river.  It wasn't much more than a tangle of branches, but
it was enough to stop Mulder, preventing him from being washed away. 
 She gasped a prayer of thanks upward, and managed to summon up enough
strength to keep running until she reached him. 
	
Dana stood on the banks of the river, staring, panicked, at the beaver dam
and Mulder's still form.  The river had widened here, and he was exactly
in the middle of the river- too far for her to just reach out and grab
him.
  Dana looked around fearfully, but saw no logs she could walk out on. 
Taking a deep breath, she knew she would have to swim out to him.  
She splashed into the water, gasping as the cold water sprayed into her
face, and could feel the pull of the current as she waded in.  
When she was in the water up to her waist, she reached out and grasped a
long branch protruding from the dam.  She used it to half-swim, half-pull
herself out to Mulder.  
When she reached him, she grasped the collar of his coat and pulled him
back with her towards shore.  Once, she felt the current pick up, and she
was terrified she'd lose her grip on him, but she didn't.  
	
When Dana reached shore, she pulled him up onto the banks, laying him on
his back.  She put her ear to his mouth, but could feel no breath.  She
checked his pulse - sluggish, but it was there.  
Being a doctor, she knew exactly what to do.  While she performed
artificial respiration, she thought of the irony of the situation, and
foolishly hoped - for just a second - that he might only be faking it, as
she had earlier.  That thought made tears run down her face, but she
ignored them.
  After what seemed like forever, Mulder sputtered and coughed.  She
pulled her mouth from his and stared at him in shocked relief as water
drained from his mouth and he took hesitant, choking breaths of his own. 
She tenderly caressed his cheek, her heartbeat returning to normal as she
watched his face slowly lose its pale gray color.  
	
After a moment, he struggled to sit up, and she helped him, supporting him
in case he might fall back. 
 She hugged him, and felt his arm weakly wrap around her.  For a moment,
Dana forgot about the peril of their situation...until he began shivering
violently.  
Dana looked up at Mulder, and saw that his teeth were chattering, and his
entire body trembling.  His face was getting pale again.  Then, she
noticed just how cold she was, and how she was shaking too.
  Oh, no...She realized.  Hypothermia. 
 The water had been freezing, and there were patches of ice around the
edges.  They had to get to their shelter, and get themselves warmed up, or
everything would be over.

	"Mulder- come on-," She managed to say, her voice shaking because
her teeth were chattering so hard.  "We have- to- get to the- shelter..." 

Mulder managed a nod, and tried to stand on shaking legs.  Dana pulled
herself up, her knees threatening to buckle at any second.  She helped him
up, and managed to half-push, half-pull him up the bank. Getting herself
up wasn't any easier- her hands shook so hard she could barely grip the
edge of the bank and pull herself up.  
When they finally got up, they stumbled to the lean-to, Scully's arm
around him for fear he might fall. 
 She helped him into the shelter, and was about to take off his wet
clothes, when she realized with sudden fear that all of their clothes were
*soaked*.  Even the coats.  She looked up at the parachute reluctantly,
and decided that was the best - if *only* - thing they had to keep warm. 

	"Here," She said, pulling off his shoes.  "Take off the wet
clothes," Mulder obeyed silently, his face a stone mask.  Oh God, she
prayed, don't let him be in shock...
 While he undressed to his undershirt and boxers, Dana pulled the
parachute off the tent frame.  Then she started a fire, but her fingers
shook so hard that five of the matches she struck blew out.  
After the fire was going, she pulled off her own clothes except for her
T-shirt and underwear.  Then she pulled Mulder close to her, wrapping the
parachute around them both.  
Mulder shivered despite the fire, and Dana didn't feel any warmer either. 
She could feel every drop of energy left in her body ebb away, and she
could barely move.  
But when Mulder's eyelids began to droop, she suddenly snapped awake.
	"Mulder!" She said firmly, slapping his face lightly.  "Don't fall
asleep!  Mulder, *DON'T*!"  
But it was too late...she could not revive him, and he slumped against
her, unconscious.
  Dana felt tears pouring down her face...she knew it was over.  There was
no way they'd survive this.  
Giving in to her exhaustion, sadness, and pain, she too lost
consciousness.


  

	
	Dana woke up in a warm place.  
That was the first thing she noticed... *She was WARM*.  
She did not open her eyes, but she could hear soft noises...a fire
crackling...a soft, metallic scraping noise...and -
A radio?  
Dana's eyes popped open, and for a second, she thought she was dreaming. 
 She looked up, seeing neat rows of logs.  A fire in a fireplace threw
strange shadows on the ceiling.  She looked around - indeed, she was in a
small log cabin, dark except for the fire.  She was lying on a small bed
with a stiff mattress, underneath several thick blankets. 
 She glanced around- a small, middle-aged man in a flannel shirt stood by
a small black stove, stirring something in a pot.  A tiny radio crackled
on a rough wooden table beside him.  The window by the table was white,
frosted over, and she could hear the soft whooshing of the wind.  
The man at the stove looked up. 
	"Hey!" He said, obviously glad she was awake.  "I didn't think you
were gonna wake up!" He walked towards her and sat down on the edge of the
bed. 

	"How...?" Dana began, but didn't have the strength to continue. 
She was afraid that at any moment, she'd wake up from this dream, freezing
to death on the banks of the river.
	"How'd you get here?" The man asked, reading her mind.  "Well,
first of all, my name's Joe - Joe Whitaker.  Pleased t' meet ya, ma'am." 
Dana managed a smile - the man seemed friendly.  
He scratched his graying beard, and his amiable brown eyes shone.  "I live
in this here cabin up in the mountains, and when I heard 'bout that
snowstorm, I thought it'd be best to wait it out in town, 'bout twenty or
so miles from here.  Anyhoo, after the storm was over, I come up in my
jeep to check on my cabin... but the trail I us'ally takes was blocked. 
So I decides to take a dif'rent way - and I done stumbled on a li'l plane
crashed not too far from m'cabin.  I looked 'round in it, saw nobody
there... helluva lotta blood on the ground, some wolf tracks..."  He
looked disturbed.
  Dana managed to find her voice.  
	"We were in that plane... our pilot died in the crash, and we had
to throw him out to the wolves..."  
Whitaker nodded. 
	"Yeah, I figgered there was somebody left 'live, 'cause I saw yer
footprints leadin' out into the woods.  Anyhoo, I followed them tracks,
and I done found you and another fella out there by the river!"  He shook
his head.  "I thought you two was dead, you were both soakin' wet and
unconscious an' all.  If I hadn't found ya, you'da died of hypothermia.
Gawdamn, you two musta had a time...you were in that storm?"  
Dana nodded slowly.  
Whitaker made a clicking noise with his tongue.  "Yeesh.  Anyhoo, I hauled
the two of ya into m'jeep, drove ya out here to m'cabin.  Reached it jus'
last night.  Called fer help on m'radio, told 'em I found two people, been
in a plane crash and out in the freezin' cold fer a while, mighty tired
an' sick.  Rescue crew'll be here ASAP...whenever that is.  We had more
snow, so the trail I done took'll be covered.  
But-" Whitaker grinned.  "-I got you two up here where it's warm an' you
got food, so I guess you'll be okay!"  He seemed relieved.  
Dana, too, felt relieved. 
	"Mulder - that man I was with - he's okay?" She asked, sitting up.

	"Yup.  Right over there.  Ain't woke up yet, though."  He pointed
to a chair by the fire, where Mulder slept quietly, covered with blankets.
 "He was plumb tuckered out." 
Dana sighed with relief.  She watched Mulder for a moment more, then
looked back at Whitaker. 
	"Thank you so much," She said, tears of gratitude and relief in
her eyes.  
Whitaker smiled broadly. 
	"No trouble a'tall, miss," He said.  He looked back at Mulder. 
"Well, well, well.... Look who's up!"  
Dana looked over at Mulder, and saw that he was awake. 
 He looked around at the cabin for a long moment, stunned.  Then he saw
Dana, and a small smile appeared on his face as he realized that they'd
been rescued.
  Whitaker looked from Mulder to Dana and chuckled.  "Well, I bet you
two're hungry, eh?"  He went to the stove and took the pot off the burner,
and poured its contents into two bowls, putting them on the table.  Then
he went off into another room, respecting their privacy, instinctively
knowing they wanted to be alone for a moment. 
 Dana got out of bed slowly, and sat down by the fire.  Mulder got off his
chair, bringing one of the blankets with him.  He sat down next to her and
put the blanket around her shoulders. 
 For a long moment, she stared at him, a funny look on her face. 
	"You did it *again*..." She said softly, smiling. 
 Mulder just smiled, moving closer to her.  Dana ignored the soup on the
table, suddenly finding her need for food not as great as it had been
before.  She felt deep relief, knowing that they were going to survive,
that they were in a safe, warm place where they didn't have to be afraid
any longer. Every-thing was all right now.
  Wrapping her arms around his neck, she felt him hugging her weakly,
knowing it was because he was still weary from their experience.  
But Dana could still feel the love and deep emotion in Mulder's embrace,
and closed her eyes.  In a mom-ent, she was asleep again, safe and content
in the arms of the man she loved...who also loved her.

**********
<kg>


===========================================================================

From: ldyducatnp@aol.com (LdyDucatnp)
Newsgroups: alt.tv.x-files.creative
Subject: New story - "Crash" 12/12
Date: 18 May 1996 17:57:17 -0400


==================================
"Crash" (12/12)
By Kerry Gallo (xasj82c@prodigy.com)
and Sarah Roby (LadyDucatnip@prodigy.com)
==================================

**Disclaimer on Chapter One**


				    	-= Chapter 12 =-	
                       

	The next morning came too soon for them both.  The rescue squad
Joe Whitaker had called arrived by snowmobile shortly after eight from the
nearby town they had been attempting to hike to.  The paramedics checked
Mulder and Scully both, miraculously only finding the remains of
frostbite, mild hypothermia, and just plain exhaustion.  They had eaten
and rested well the night before but each could tell the other was
thinking the same thing : Now what do we do?
	They certainly couldn't go back to work and forget everything that
had happened over the last couple of days, keep denying those feelings and
play the perfect, by-the-book FBI agents day in and day out.  They also
couldn't show their true feelings to everyone else, and risk permanent
separation as partners - neither would ever be able to fully trust another
partner to watch each other's backs.  Besides, both of them were now on an
equal mission to find the Truth - and the answers behind them that lay
buried somewhere deep in the X-Files.  They weren't sure they were ready
to take such a large risk.
	Neither had any time to discuss much with the other since they
were driven on the snowmobiles to the small mountain town, ran through the
hospital system there and released on the condition that they both get
some rest.  They had become pseudo-celebrities because of their ordeal,
and, as such, were offered lodging at the local ski 
resort until the roads were safer and they were both somewhat recuperated.
 Both agreed on separate rooms.


	Late that first night, Mulder gave up even the pretense of sleep. 
Even though he was exhausted, his mind wouldn't let him rest.  All he
could do was lie awake, frustrated, and wonder what the two of them could
do.  
	After about two hours of this pondering, however, he couldn't
stand it anymore.  He had to talk to Dana before he went insane.  He threw
the covers aside, stood up, turned on the bedside lamp, and grabbed the
complimentary white terry-cloth robe from the bathroom.  Mulder put the
robe on, tied it, and grabbed his room key.


	Dana rolled over again, burying her head in the pillow, moaning in
frustration.  Would her mind *ever* shut up?  She started seriously
considering calling the front desk for a sleep aid when a soft knock
sounded on her door.  Who in the world...?, she thought for a brief second
before the obvious answer hit her.  Mulder.  
	"Dana?", he asked softly.  "You awake?"  
	She fought an impulse to just remain quiet, but then scolded
herself for her childishness.  Ignoring the problem wouldn't make it any
better.  She moved the covers aside, grabbed her discarded white robe off
of the floor beside the bed, and slipped it on.  She turned on the light
beside her bed, and shuffled over  to the door.  
	Scully unlocked the deadbolt, and pulled off the chain.  When she
opened the door, no one was there.  She craned her neck to look down the
hallway, still not seeing any sign of Mulder.  She sighed, and started to
close the door when a sudden thought ran through her mind.  She tightened
the robe around her, and reached for her room key on the desk.


	'Stupid, stupid, stupid, idiot...', Mulder berated himself
mentally as he let the door shut, and leaned against it.  He hoped he
didn't wake her up, he didn't think he did anyway.  They'd talk about it
tomorrow, he rationalized.  Now, if I could just get some sleep....
	He jumped as a knock came on his door.  Who...?  
	Mulder turned and opened the door enough to look out, and tried to
keep the confused look off his face.
	"It would have been nice if you had at least given me some time to
get to the door, Mulder..."  Dana said with a small smile playing on her
lips.  God, she looked great - even for this late at night.
	"Can I come in?", she asked expectantly.  He smiled dumbly and
nodded.
	"Sorry...."  Mulder opened the door all the way and ushered her
in, closing the door softly behind her.  He watched for a moment as Dana
fiddled with the ties on her robe, her back to him, until she turned
around to face him.
	"I...", they began simultaneously, then laughed nervously.
	"You first....", echoed both, then, "No, go ahead...."
	After a second, Dana jumped in.
	"Allow me?", she said, smiling softly.  He smiled gratefully, and
nodded.
	"Please."
	"I... I'm not really sure where to start, actually..." she said. 
"I just know I won't be able to sleep or even concentrate anytime soon
unless we talk about this.... about... what happened..."  She took a deep
breath, let it out, and looked deeply into his eyes.  "About *us*."
	The silence grew for a minute as they each tried to gauge what the
other was thinking, what they wanted to say and do, or how to act.  
	"Oh, Mulder," she breathed, gazing down at the floor, "what are we
going to do?"
	Mulder slowly reached out his hand to her, taking her by the
elbow, and leading her over to the bed, indicating that she should sit
down.  Instead of joining her there, he knelt down in front of her, and
placed his hands over hers lightly.  She slowly looked up to meet his
gaze, the fear and doubt she tried to hide coming to the surface
unrestrained.
	"Dana, I'm not going to pretend to have the answers, or know the
"right" thing to do," he whispered.  "But, I can't deny what I feel, or
what I've felt for you for so long now.  I don't know what we should or
shouldn't do, or feel,.... but...", he paused and gently tightened his
hold on her hands.  "I'm *sure* of what I feel - and I know those feelings
won't ever change."  His voice became even softer, even as his eyes became
more focused and intense upon hers.
	"And I don't *ever* want them to."
	Dana let out the breath she didn't know she'd been holding in a
small burst of relief, and a gentle smile played on her lips.  Mulder
apparently took her smile and sudden release of breath to mean the wrong
thing, and looked down quickly, beginning to remove his hand from atop
hers.  But, as fast as he was, she was faster.  Dana grasped his hands in
her own until he returned his gaze to her.
	"I don't want them to either, Mulder.  It's just... it's just that
now I am sure that how *we* feel now is not a result of what we just went
through.  *This*,"  she accent-uated, then raised their clasped hands from
her lap, into his range of vision.  "*This* isn't going to change, or
disappear, or become as elusive as the Truth we're both searching to
find."  She blinked repeatedly, suddenly overwhelmed with emotion. 
"*This* is here to stay, Fox...... and so am I", she said, grasping his
hands tighter between hers.
	It was Mulder's turn to let out the breath *he'd* been holding. 
He, too, was so overcome with so many emotions running rampant through him
that he didn't even cringe when she used his first name.  He couldn't
speak right away, he could only grin delightedly  back at her, bringing
their hands back into her lap, and intertwining his fingers with hers.
	"Well, that's good", he began.  "You're the only one who'll ever
be able to put up with me anyway..."  Dana groaned and rolled her eyes, a
smile starting to play on her lips again.  
	"So, where do we go from here?", he asked gently.  Dana swallowed,
and looked down at their hands.
	"Well, as much as I don't want to say this.... I think we need to
take a couple steps back before we can take any forward."  Seeing the
confused look pass over his face, she continued.  "What I mean is, until
we can find a way to work together and *be* together, I don't see how we
can take that final leap right *now*.... as much as we both might want
to."  She looked deep into his eyes, hoping to see that he understood her
point, and that it really wasn't at all what she wanted... but what they
had no choice in.
	He did understand, and he nodded, albeit a bit reluctantly, even
as his face took on a mischievous look.
	"So, it's back to Washington.... back to chasing shadows and
little green men with good ole' Spooky eh?"
	She smiled and stood, taking him with her, leaving their hands
clasped together.
	"I'm afraid so... partner", she said as she slowly separated her
hands from his and, following her lead, he walked her slowly to the door.
	Neither said a word as she walked out of his room and down the
hall to her own.  	None were necessary.  


	The next morning found both agents eager to return to Washington,
and back to the X-Files.  The resort had finally been able to get them a
flight out of the closest metro- politan airport to the small town. 
Mulder met Scully in the lobby of the resort, and both, for once, had no
bags to carry.
	"You ready?", Mulder asked Scully as she approached him.
	"Ready to leave.... just not very ready to fly...", she said with
a small smile.  He returned it with a look of genuine agreement as he took
her room key from her hand, and stepped over to the front desk to return
them.  The clerk took the keys from him, and a look of recognition passed
over his young face as he checked them out through the hotel computer
sitting in front of him.
	"You're Mr. Mulder, right?"  
	Mulder looked somewhat perplexed as he answered,  "Yes I am...
why?"
	"You have a message, sir," the clerk said as he turned and
searched through the rows of pigeon-holes behind the desk, finally coming
up with a thin, business-size, white envelope.  The young man handed it to
Mulder, saying that someone from the hospital brought it in late the night
before.  Mulder thanked him, and walked back over to Scully.
	"What is that, Mulder?"
	"I don't know... someone from the hospital brought it in..", he
said as he opened the envelope.  He carefully pulled a small, half-charred
piece of stiff paper and a small note out from the envelope, and read the
message inscribed on the small scrap of paper.  The handwriting on the
note didn't look familiar to him.

		       Thought you might want this back.  Found it in
pocket 
				of your suit coat.  Take care.

	Mulder read the note, and then turned over the burnt, stiff paper.
 A familiar face smiled innocently back at him, and what he could see of
himself - a thin arm - wrapped around her shoulders.  It was
impossible..... how?.... he'd burned this......*Dana*......
	He looked quickly up at her, just as she was realizing what it was
also.  She met his grateful smile with a sincere one of her own.
	"I... I couldn't just let it burn....", she started.
	"Thank you, Dana," he said softly, his hand coming up to caress
her cheek.
	"We'll find her, Mulder.  And the Truth.  I promise."

	
					      THE END
				         (And The Beginning?)	

**********
<sr>