Somewhere Under Wraps 2/2

Somewhere Under Wraps 6/9
vmoseley@fgi.net
disclaimed in part one

She snuggled closer to his bare chest, her head resting on his shoulder.
Mulder was so warm, his skin was so smooth--like the satin sheets under
them.

"I love you, G-woman," he murmured into her hair.

She giggled, his breath tickled her scalp.

"You find that funny?" he asked, in mock annoyance.

"You tickled me," she replied in a sleepy voice.

"No, Agent Scully. _This_ is tickling," he corrected her and took that
opportunity to reach his long fingers around her waist and dig into the
muscles of her side. She couldn't stop her reaction with a tank--she started
laughing uncontrollably.

"Stop . . .Stop . . . Mulder, STOP THAT!" she commanded between peals
of laughter and gasps for breath.

As quickly as he'd begun, he ceased his actions, letting his hand rest on her
bare hip. His fingertips danced in a slow small circle, caressing her skin.

"I need this, Dana," he said after a few quiet minutes. "I need this to go
on." He was silent for a while then, he voice trembled a little when he next
spoke. "I'm so afraid."

That thought got her attention. "Afraid of what, Mulder?" she asked with
deepening concern.

"Afraid that I'll lose you, that I won't find my way back. God, I don't ever
want to lose you, Dana. Never," he admitted and she looked up to see
tears in his eyes.

She didn't understand his fear, but she knew better than to question him on
it. She knew what he needed right then, and it was confidence in them, in
their love. "Well, put that fear aside, Fox," she said with solid assurance.
"I'm never going to let you go."

"I'm counting on that," he said, swallowing his tears and leaning down to
catch her lips with his.

He kissed her long enough to take her breath away. As he continued to
kiss her cheeks and her nose, her chin. His right hand reached up and
cupped her breast, rubbing his thumb over her nipple. "I saw the most
amazing thing last night, Scully," he murmured against her skin.

"Uh-huh," she encouraged him, though for the life of her she didn't know if
she was encouraging his statement or his actions.

"It was like the invasion on the beaches at Normandy. Millions of them, all
with one goal. Only one could be successful, but they all seemed to go
after it as if they were guaranteed that they would be that one. It took my
breath away." His thumb and index finger were massaging her right nipple
as he dipped his mouth to suckle her left nipple. Her head soared as her
stomach clenched with desire.

"You're taking my breath away, Mulder," she sighed, and ran her hands
over his back, bringing them up to knead his shoulder muscles. "God, I
love your back," she complimented him.

"Thank you," he said, her nipple still in his mouth and it made her giggle.
His right hand left her breast and she frowned at the cold air that hit it,
but
he moved his hand down onto the smooth expanse of the stomach and she
tingled, anticipating his next move.

"I guess I should feel a bit superior. I mean, I've heard they survive in the
right conditions for up to seven days, but I never imagined it actually
worked that way in real life." He was kissing his way down her stomach
and then he stopped his direction and moved over to place gentle kisses at
her right side, near her waist. "Right there. That's where it all began," he
informed her. "I love you so much, you know that don't you?"

His one-sided conversation was leaving her in the dust. She had no idea
what he was talking about, nor, at that moment, did she give a damn.
"Mulder, less talk, more action," she growled low in the back of her throat.

His hands were now stroking the tops of her thighs. Her fingers were
curled in his hair, but occasionally would travel down and tickle his ear and
caress the soft spot behind his ear. He groaned.

"One ovum, Scully. That's all it takes. 40 million sperm to one little
ovum."

"Mulder, can we talk biology later?" she pleaded.

"You don't look different. Not yet at least. Your breast aren't any
heavier. You don't seem overly sensitive. God, will you feel different? I
can't wait to see you plumped up and huge and glowing and radiant," he
told her through smoky eyes. "Now that I know it's true, I can't wait,
Scully."

"Mulder, stop talking," she ordered without ceremony and with no
acknowledgement of his words. All she could hear was the sound of the
ocean roaring in her ears. She was lost at sea, but safe in his arms. She
held him tight and they both washed out to sea, dragged under by the
currents and then pounded by the surf back to the shore.

"Too late guys. The room's been rented," he gasped and collapsed upon
his arms, holding himself off her until he could balance enough to roll next
to her and pull her close.

She was almost asleep when he kissed her forehead. "Watch yourself with
Marita, G-woman. She's a viper in snakes clothing. Don't believe
anything she gives you willingly. That's how she'll set you up. If you
don't have to pull teeth to get it, it's a lie."

"I'll be careful," Scully vowed sleepily.

"I love you. Remember that. And what you've given me, what you're
going to give me, it's more than enough reason to fight my way back, love.
I won't give up without a fight."

"Good, because neither will I," she replied, and snuggled in his arms and
into a fast and restful sleep.

She woke up some time later. The same dull white walls greeted her. The
same rough, starched sheets lie tangled around her waist. It had been a
dream, she realized with an empty feeling inside her. All a dream.

But as she moved to get up off the bed, she couldn't help but notice the
telltale sticky wetness between her legs, or the very recoginizable odor that
rose up to meet her from the sheets. She knew that odor from her own
bed, when she and Mulder had made love. It was the scent of their bodies
joined, and belonged just to them and them alone.

That truly was one hellava dream.

Robinsonville Memorial Hospital
7:05 am

Scully could hear her partner's mother's voice in a low murmur as she
approached the door. Not wanting to intrude, she gave a soft rap on the
doorcasing before pushing the door the rest of the way open.

Mrs. Mulder looked up and smiled tiredly as Dana came into the room. A
glance at her partner told her that he was awake, but just barely. She
smiled back at his mother before coming to stand next to the bed and
taking his hand.

"Hey, G-man. Keeping your Mom company, I see. Try not to monopolize
the conversation," she teased softly.

His mouth quirked up on the left side, what she'd come to recognize as a
smile. He flexed his fingers to reach for her hand and she grabbed his and
gave it a light squeeze before bringing it to her lips to place a kiss on his
knuckles. He moved his fingers, curling around her's. She nodded and
picked up the pad and pen from the bedside table.

He struggled with the pen for a moment before the letters N and Y
appeared on the page.

"I'm driving up. I leave at 8:30. I figure I'll meet this person at the
office--less chance they'll try to run on me there," she confided.

He blinked once and swallowed. She could tell that the tube down his
throat was irritating to him, and she winced in sympathy when he grimaced
in pain.

"Sorry about the respirator, but hopefully it won't be necessary much
longer," she told him. "Just as soon as you're strong enough, I'll make
sure they lose the darned thing, OK?"

He flashed his thanks with his eyes.

"I think he's looking better this morning," Mrs. Mulder said, breaking into
their private conversation. "I mean, I got here about midnight and he
seemed to be distraught--restless even though he was sound asleep. Then,
about an hour or so later, he seemed to be calmer, not as pale. Then, about
6:30, he woke up and gave me a smile." She reached over and patted his
leg, smiling at her son.

Scully furrowed her brow. 6:30 was just about the time she was waking up
that morning, too. The images of their lovemaking from her dream were so
strong as to cause her a physical reaction. She blushed, hoping his mother
didn't notice that she was practically drooling over her partner.

New Jersey Turnpike
North toward New York
9:00 am

The New Jersey Turnpike rolled underneath her at close to 78 miles an
hour. Usually, Scully wasn't one to speed, but she didn't feel like
maintaining the posted 65 miles an hour limit.

She'd hated leaving Mulder at the hospital. She waited until he fell asleep
and even then, it took her almost half an hour to get out the door. His
mother had been very understanding, even going down to 'get a cup of
coffee' so that the two could have a few moments alone together. Scully
had taken the opportunity to kiss him goodbye. While he was sleeping, it
was almost possible for her to ignore the respirator tube snaking down his
throat, or the fact that he'd not moved a single muscle on the right side of
his body for over 48 hours. It was almost possible to convince herself that
he was just sleeping, that he would wake up and yawn and stretch and take
her in a bear hug before clamoring off to the shower and starting the day.

She could almost make herself believe he was all right. Almost.

Her thoughts drifted back to the dream of the night before. It had been so
real, so tactile. She could still taste the sweat as she kissed his chin,
smell
his breath as he kissed her. Feel his hands gliding over her body, bringing
her alive.

He'd spoken in her dream. She realized suddenly, that never in any of her
other erotic dreams had he ever spoken. Or if he did speak, she never
remembered what he said. But she remembered him speaking in this
dream, and she still puzzled at what he was saying.

Something about an invasion? Beaches at Normady. Something about
ovum and sperm. Something about not being able to wait to see her
plump?

It made absolutely no sense. But then, why should a dream Mulder make
any more sense than a real Mulder, she wondered.

Then she remembered the warning. Funny, she'd taken that in stride. It
seemed perfectly natural for Mulder to warn her to watch her back. And
especially when dealing with one of his 'informants'.

She didn't know a lot about Marita Corrvarubus, but what she did know,
she didn't like. The woman was a consummate gamesman, and had been
instrumental in getting Mulder into Russia several months before. And into
a Russian gulag, Scully fumed silently.

Mulder had been very closed mouth about his time in the prison camp. His
entire report consisted of telling her that the water was bad, the toilet
was a
hole in the corner of the cell and he missed his couch. But his eyes held a
haunted look as he spoke, like there was something else he wasn't telling
her. Something so horrible that to speak it aloud would cause him more
pain than keeping it secret would cause her.

Scully was willing to bet her bottom dollar that Marita knew what that
horror was. And that she would use it to her advantage.

Dana negotiated the streets of New York, heading for the United Nations
building, thinking about Mulder's informants. Scully had never trusted any
of them. She remembered distinctly the night that his first informant, the
man she called Deep Throat had died in her arms. At the time she'd felt
that he'd been sent to throw them off track, to impede their work. After
his death, she discovered that he was a safety net she never knew they
had--or needed.

Next came X. At least with X she always knew where she stood--on the
receiving end of his Sig. She didn't like X any better than she liked Deep
Throat, but at least she could understand him. He was in the game, but his
strong sense of self-preservation was always present, visible, tangible. If
sides were to be taken, there was no doubt where he would stand--he
would stand only for himself and no one else. Before his death, she'd
almost come to respect him for that.

Then Mulder had stumbled across Marita. She'd once tried to find out
more about her, using the UN databases. She was at an assistant's level,
really just a glorified secretary, but she seemed to have powers that went
beyond the strictly clerical. And Scully had, at one time, been jealous of
her.

Mulder didn't play the field. In the time she'd known him, she could have
counted his dates on one hand. But the little she could determine about
Marita from dealing with her second hand through Mulder, Scully was
positive the woman knew the true meaning of the words 'sleep your way to
the top'. Sure, it was a sexist attitude on Scully's part. But Scully had
been around long enough to know that attitude didn't make the impression
false. Scully hated Marita from the moment she first knew she existed.

She now had to steel herself to deal with the woman. It was a faint hope at
best, but she couldn't stop feeling that maybe Marita could help Mulder's
condition. If that were the case, she'd deal with the devil himself.

She wove her way through the building, looking every bit the seasoned
professional she was. Her fitted business suit melted right in with the
bureaucrats surrounding her. Government was pretty much the same,
she'd discovered, on any level. World government meant bigger budgets,
nothing more.

The offices for the Special Representatives were on the 14th floor. A great
view of the harbor was out the window of the ante room she was ushered
into. She glanced at the coffee table, noting a copy of People Magazine sat
buried under copies of the Far Eastern Economic Review and the Christian
Science Monitor. She decided against any of them and sat, her hands
playing with the nap of the side chair she sat on.

Marita came through the door looking expectant. "Agent Scully, I must
say I'm a little surprised to see you here," the blond woman said in a
smoky voice that Scully despised instantly. Scully stood up and
straightened her back, giving the impression of more height than she'd been
graced with.

"No doubt," Scully replied, with a even gaze. "But I'm here on behalf of
my partner. He's taken ill, but he felt that you might have some
information that could help us on a case we're working on."

"How is Agent Mulder?" Marita purred, and Scully felt the concerned look
was a bit more than was necessary.

"He's suffered a stroke," Scully said. To be honest, she didn't want to go
into any great details with this woman, but Scully was sure Marita knew as
much about Mulder's condition as she did herself and was willing to play
the game if it gave her any clues.

"That seems awfully strange, given his age. He never seemed in ill health
to me," Marita said with a shrug.

"He wasn't. Neither were any of the other thirty people that have died of
strokes in a small area of west central New Jersey. That's what we were
investigating. That's why I'm here." Might as well lay all my cards on the
table, Scully determined. All she wanted was out of that office.

Marita pursed her lips and thought for a moment. Then she walked back
through the door to her office, coming out again with a folder. "I believe
you are familiar with this substance already, Agent Scully. You've dealt
with it before." She handed Scully a file folder. "You and Agent Mulder
spent a great deal of time earlier this year tracking down the origin of a
rock that came into this country in a diplomatic pouch. An exobiologist at
Goddard Space Center tried to determine it's origin, and paid for the
information with his life. The entire population of a nursing home in
Florida was likewise adversely affected. You should know that other
samples of that very same rock are currently being brought into the United
States every month, but they aren't going through customs, nor are they
inspected by anyone in your government."

"How is that possible?" Scully asked, flipping through the folder. Her
heart dropped--it was the Mars Rock, as Mulder called it. Scully was
never entirely sure what it's exact contents were, but she knew how it
affected people--most of them ended up dead. The file contained copies of
bills of lading, products from a company called 'Pristine, Ltd.' that had it's
headquarters in Helsinki, Finland. She finally came to a page that had been
highlighted in yellow marker. "Water purifiers?"

"For home use," Marita said with a nod. "Most purifiers use charcoal
filters. There are other substances that can be used. In the case of a few
dozen, you might be interested to learn that the substance used originated
in Tunguska, Siberia." Marita's totally even expression seemed to
downplay the impact of her last words.

"The Mars rock," Scully whispered, staring at the pages but not seeing
them.

"Agent Scully, I don't know how much your partner told you about his
time in Siberia. To tell the truth, I'm not sure how much he remembers.
But it does have some bearing on this case. And I can assure you that it's
the reason he is alive."

Those words broke Scully out of her ruminations. "What are you talking
about?" she demanded.

"Those people died of stroke caused by direct contact with the lifeform
living in that rock. But the stroke your partner experienced was caused by
the same lifeform--one that seems to thrive in an oil based environment.
The others died, he didn't. Would you believe me if I told you that Fox
Mulder was exposed to and contracted the disease commonly refered to as
'the black cancer' while he was in Russia? But he was also the only person
to receive a prophylactic injection of a serum they hoped would prevent the
adverse reaction to the cancer. Agent Scully, your partner has been
experimented on by people not of your government and apparently, he
passed."

"Passed?" Scully hissed, barely able to breath. "He's paralysed on his right
side. He can't breath without the aid of a tube down his throat. He may
never walk again, talk again--and you're telling me he passed a test? What
the hell kind of test leaves the subject a vegetable? And what do you mean
he contracted the black cancer? We found no sign of it when he returned."

"Agent Scully, your test wouldn't show it's presense. These people are
quite thorough," Marita smiled in return.

"Who are these people? Tell me who they are, how I can find them?"
Scully ordered.

Marita smiled again. "I'm sorry, I can't tell you because I don't know.
But you shouldn't be so quick to give up on your partner. His intial
condition can be reversed, with time. Miracles happen, Agent Scully.
You, of all people should understand that." The woman turned to leave.
"Oh, by the way, congratulations, to you and your partner." She was
through her door before Scully had a chance to ask her what she meant.

end of part six

Somewhere Under Wraps 7/9
vmoseley@fgi.net
disclaimed in part one

Scully hadn't even made it to her car before she was dialing Skinner's
number on her cell phone. Kimberly put her right through to the Assistant
Director.

"Scully, how's Mulder?" Skinner asked without greeting.

"He was asleep when I left him, sir. That was about 9 this morning." She
glanced at her watch, it was just a little before noon. "Sir, I'm in New
York."

"I don't think I want to know this, but why are you in New York, Scully?"
Skinner replied tersely.

"I have a lead on the case in New Jersey, sir. But I need your help. I'm
going to be sending some samples to our labs. It's imperative that they
receive the topmost security and that the lab techs maintain level four
containment procedures."

"This sounds like something for CDC, Scully. We aren't equipped for that
kind of hazard," Skinner advised.

"Then we need to borrow their labs, sir, but we need to keep control of
this. I'm certain it relates to the deaths surrounding the rock from Russia.
Sir, please, indulge me in this. Do everything in your power to make sure
the FBI stays in this loop. I'm afraid if we don't all the evidence will
disappear--just like the rock did last time," she added forcefully.

"That's an eventuality I'd like to avoid, Scully. Just as much as you
would," Skinner assured her. "I'll get to work on the details. Now, you
go and get us the materials. And Scully--"

"Yes, sir?" she responded.

"Be careful. One agent in critical condition is enough for any partnership.
Let Towers and his people handle the details. I'll see what I can do about
getting a detox team up there before nightfall."

"Thank you, sir. I'll be counting on you."

Without thinking, her fingers punched the first speed dial number on the
phone. It rang for some time before a strange voice answered. It took her
a moment to recognize Mrs. Mulder's voice.

"Hello?" the older woman said hesitantly.

"Mrs. Mulder? This is Dana. I was just--" She stopped. I was just so
excited about the case I completely forgot that my partner couldn't answer
my phone call, even if he was awake enough to understand what I was
saying, she thought. With a heavy sigh, she continued. "I was wondering
how our guy's doing," she finally choked out.

"Oh, Dana, it's been a good day. The doctor removed the respirator just
before lunch. Fox had a bit of trouble swallowing, we're still working on
liquids. But he seems more comfortable without that thing sticking down
his throat. And he's writing a bit more. Just one word or two. I
remember how it is, it's so frustrating. But at least he's able to
communicate." Scully could hear the woman talking to someone in the
background, she assumed it was her partner.

"Dana, are you still there?"

"Yes, ma'am, I'm still here, but not for long. I'm on the exit for the
Lincoln tunnel," she said while she negotiated the off ramp

"I just wanted to put the phone up to Fox' ear so he could hear you. I
know he's been worried about you while you've been gone. Here, I'm
putting the phone up to him now."

Scully took a deep breath. "Hey, G-man. I've got some good news.
There might be a common link after all. Remember Mars rocks?" She
stopped when she realized she had asked him a question and caught herself
before she did it again. "Look, I'm on my way back. The tunnel is a little
slow, but I should be back by the end of your afternoon nap." She
swallowed to keep the tears out of her voice. "I love you, Mulder. I'll see
you soon."

After a moment of silence, Mrs. Mulder was back on the line. "Dana, Fox
just wrote you a message. Here, let me see what it says. Oh. I think he
wrote 'careful'. Yes, he's smiling at me, it must be careful. He wants you
to be careful."

"Tell him I will," Dana said with a smile at his concern. "And Mrs.
Mulder--would you tell him, . . . tell him again that I love him," she
choked.

"As often as I can, dear. As often as I can."

After a quick call to the Danny, Mulder's favorite researcher, to look up
the United States distributor for Pristine, Ltd, her next call was to John
Towers. "John, I've got a lead on the case. Go back and check the
inventory of the victims homes and track down any water purifiers. We're
looking for a brand manufactured by 'Pristine, Limited'. I should have the
distributor by later this afternoon."

"Water purifiers? You mean they put poison in the purifiers?" John
gasped.

"Something like a poison, yes," Scully replied, deciding not to go into
details just yet. "But John, if you find one, do NOT touch it. Repeat: do
not touch it. This substance can be absorbed through the skin. Now, not
all the purifiers are affected but we aren't taking any chances. The
Assistant Director is sending up a decon team to handle the materials, I just
need your people to secure the locations and the stores where they were
purchased so the decon guys don't have to rampage through the towns
looking for these things. Have you seen them before?"

"Yeah, my wife has one, but not from Pristine--that I know of. They look
like a water pitcher with a little filter that hangs down?" John asked.

"Those are the ones, yeah. And make sure you alert everyone to avoid
contact with them. I suspect we've seen the results of most of the
contaminated filters already, but there is a possiblity that there are one or
two still floating around."

"Oh, God, Dana, do you think that's what happened to Mulder?" John's
sigh caused Scully's own chest to constrict.

"Yeah, John, I do," she whispered, not trusting her voice to normal tones.

"Shit," came the anquished reply. After a moment, John continued. "I
went up to see him earlier. His mom was with him. He's looking a little
better, without that tube down him. Dana?"

"Yeah, John?"

"If you two need _anything_, anything at all . . ." The rest of the sentence
was lost in a deep, sorrowful breath.

"Thanks, John. I'll keep that in mind. Right now, let's put a lid on this
case. I think that would be the best thing for everyone."

Scully arrived at the hospital a little before three. When she got to the
room, Mrs. Mulder looked up and smiled. "Sweetheart, look who's back,"
she said happily.

Mulder's eyes blinked open. This time when he smiled, Scully was certain
that at least a couple of muscles on the right side of his face responded and
she saw him flex a finger on his right hand. Her heart soared as she leaned
over him and gave him a kiss, totally ignoring his mother's presense in the
room. "G-man, you've been busy," she purred in his ear and he smiled
crookedly again.

"A new doctor came by. Dr. Foster. He said you'd called him," Mrs.
Mulder said, and didn't seem to notice that his partner had just given her
son a very passionate kiss.

"Yeah, I did. Paul Foster's a neurologist that I went to med school with. I
looked up his number this morning and called him on the way up to New
York. What did he say?" she asked as she sat down in one of the chairs
next to the bed.

"Well, he said it was too soon to tell for certain, but there is every
indication Fox is regaining at least some control over his right side. He
said that the fact that his eyes have both been working in tandem, that he
focuses with both of them, indicates that the damage was not as severe as
we might have thought." The older woman looked over at her son with a
sad smile. "Guess it takes more than a stroke to keep us down, huh, baby
boy?"

"That's interesting," Dana mused. "After talking to Dr. Scott and Dr.
Morrow yesterday, I was afraid we were in for a difficult time. I never
thought about the fact that both his eyes opened at the same time."

"Well, that's why you called in a second opinion, isn't it, dear? To make
sure we didn't miss something important? I'm just happy we have some
good news. Of course, Dr. Foster did make sure that we understood this
would still be a long recovery. There is still the possiblity that some
weakness will remain. But generally speaking, Fox has a good chance of
making a full recovery," she concluded proudly. "Oh, Dr. Foster did want
to talk to you, dear. He said he'd call later."

"I want to talk to him," Dana said with a determined look. "And I want to
talk to Dr. Morrow, too, for that matter. I can't believe they tried to get
me to put you in a nursing home--" She skidded to an abrupt stop when
she realized how much she'd just revealed. She could feel the blood red
blush flare on her face and she prayed he'd understand why she hadn't said
anything.

As always, she didn't have to worry. Mulder waved the pen in his left
hand, a signal his mother understood to mean that he wanted to write.
Mrs. Mulder brought the pad of paper up so that he could reach it.
FORGET IT appeared on the page, just a little jagged. His eyes told her
how much he understood--there was nothing to forgive.

"I know, but it still infuriates me," Scully replied evenly but her whole
demeanor screamed that she would do anything but forget it. "At a time
when he should have been encouraging me, he was dampening my hopes. I
knew it was a good sign that you could open your eyes so soon after the
attack, but I let him talk me out of that hope. I wonder how many other
families he's talked into doing something before they had all the facts.
Good god, with 'quality of life' issues, it makes me sick to think of what
damage this man has possibly done!" she fumed.

Mulder tapped on the blanket with the pen. His mother resumed her pose
and he wrote, turning the paper only for his mother's eyes.

"OK, Mulder, keeping secrets from me," Dana accused with a twinkle.

Mrs. Mulder chuckled as she handed Dana the page. Mulder's eyes were
dancing with mischief. The page had only a single word. IRISH

"Oh, you are gonna get it later, Mister," Dana warned with a laugh. "Wait
till Maggie Sullivan Scully hears this. You better watch your step because
if you think I'm bad, you haven't seen her on a good day."

"Dana, while you're here, I think I'll slip down and get some coffee.
Would you care for some?" Mrs. Mulder asked.

Dana started to shake her head, but noticed that Mulder was already
writing NO on the page of his pad. She gave him a curious look, but he
smiled innocently and shrugged on his left shoulder. His mother smiled
quizzically at them both and left the room. Mulder gave a left-sided smirk
and picked up the pen again. NEW YORK?

Scully's cell phone interrupted her before she could reply. It was Danny
with the name of the distributor.

"You sure that's the right spelling? K-A-L-L-E-N-C-H-U-C-K. OK, yeah,
I've got it. Kallenchuck Imports. And the address is in San Diego.
Thanks, Danny. Yeah, well, he's doing better, but I doubt he'll be using
those season opener tickets for the Redskins next month--want 'em?
They're yours." She grinned widely at Mulder bewildered look. "Yeah,
I'll be sure to call if I need anything else. Bye."

Mulder had the pen on the paper again, scribbling furiously. MY
TICKETS!!!

Scully laughed. "Oh, come on, if you're up and around by then, I'll get
you tickets somehow. But for now, we need to keep Danny on our side.
You know, that name sounds familiar. Kallenchuck. Where did we run
into that name?"

FRENCH SALVAGE MISSION he wrote on a new sheet of paper.

"Jeraldine Kallenchuck! Now, I remember. But I thought she died in
Hong Kong," Scully countered.

ME TOO came the written reply. MARITA? he wrote out at the bottom
of the page.

"Oh, Mulder, I'm sorry. I forgot that I didn't tell you on the phone.
Marita gave me some information. She knew how these strokes could be
happening." She pulled the file out of her briefcase and showed it to him.

"Basically, it's a water purifier--a filter. Made by a company out of
Finland. But in some of them, a couple of dozen apparently, the substance
in the filter is not just charcoal--it's from the Tunguska meteor."

At the mention of Tunguska, Mulder's eyes flew open in surprise.

"That was my reaction," she smiled. "Anyway, according to your favorite
Global bureaucrat, this whole thing was an experiment for you. And you
passed, just by survival, I assume."

A dark cloud passed over his eyes and he glared at the folder, not looking
up at her. She placed a hand on his arm to get his attention.

"She also told me that you would recover. Mulder, I hadn't talked to your
mom at that time, I hadn't heard about Dr. Foster's prognosis. Marita
knows more about this, but she wouldn't tell me."

She cupped his cheek in her hand. "Mulder, what really happened in
Russia?" He scowled at her for a moment, then reached for the pen and
pad. NOTHING IMPORTANT jumped off the page.

She felt the tears burning the back of her throat. "Don't you trust me?" she
whispered.

He picked up the pen again. DONT TRUST MYSELF

They were quiet for several minutes before he wrote something else. GET
FILTERS

"Yeah," she replied. "Skinner sent a detox team up from DC. Since we
know we're dealing with a toxic substance, I felt that would be best. But I
begged him to keep it in the FBI--I don't want a repeat of last time."

For the first time in over three days, Fox Mulder was able to nod. He only
did it once and just a fraction, but it was enough.

The pen danced over the pad again. LGM

"Oh no, Mulder. Not that! Anything but that," she cried, shaking her head
vigoriously.

The pen slipped from his hands and he sighed. She was amazed at how
much of his 'wounded look' was expressed in his eyes. And now they
looked bloodshot and tired on top of it. He'd run out of the little burst
energy her return had inspired.

"I'll do some checking, and maybe I'll give Frohike and the boys a call,"
she compromised relunctantly and was rewarded by a wicked half grin and
a wink. "Stop that, Mulder," she growled. "I won't hurt you now, but I
can keep track and save it all for later." His eyes danced again before he
let them close. He was asleep before her lips touched his forehead

When Mrs. Mulder returned, Scully decided not to force the older woman
to endure her conversation with the Lone Gunmen, not to mention their
insistence on using only non-traceable 'ground lines' for communications.
Her partner's nap was the perfect opportunity for her to sneak down to the
pay phones on the first floor and put in a call to the 'bat caves' as Mulder
once called the Lone Gunman office.

"Lone Gunman," came the crisp answer. Now I'm scared, she thought to
herself. I'm starting to recognize voices when I call there.

"Byers, this is Dana Scully," she sighed. "Turn off the tape."

"Tape off, Agent Scully. Mind if I put you on speaker--the guys want to
listen in, if you're on a ground line, of course."

"Speaker away, Byers, I might need the combined mental powers of all
three of you for this one."

"How's Mulder doing," came Langly's voice after Byers explained who
was on the phone. She softened a little by the concern she heard in his
words.

"I imagine you know that he's suffered a stroke," she began.

"You've double checked that, haven't you, Agent Scully?" came Langly's
voice, followed by a quick "Of course she has, you dolt!" from none other
than Frohike.

"Yes, I've gotten a second opinion, guys. No doubt about it, Mulder had a
massive thrombosis of one of the secondary arteries of his brain. But
fortunately, they started him on a new drug--"

"t-PA, right?" chimed in Byers.

Scully closed her eyes and shook her head--why bother with these guys?
"Yes, as a matter of fact, it is t-PA."

"And it worked, right?"

She smiled at the optimism that flowed over her through the line. "Yes, it
worked. But we don't know how much damage the clot caused. That will
take time. Right now, he's partially paralyzed on his right side, but the
paralysis is easing every day. He's still unable to talk, but he's been
writing
us notes. He's doing well, guys. Really. Maybe, when we get home, you
can come by and visit."

"Totally unscheduled, of course," Byers assured her. "But that's not why
you called, just to give us a medical update, is it?"

Again, the three had brought a smile to Scully's face. "No, Byers, that's
not why I called. Remember a year or so ago you helped Mulder find out
some information on a French salvage operation in the Pacific?"

"All that Zeus Farber stuff, right?" Langly shot back.

"Yes. There was an import office in San Diego--J. Kallenchuck. Well, I
don't want to go into details, but I think they are still in operation."

"Agent Scully, I understand your hesitency to reveal sensitive information.
But please, rest assured that anything you say will be held in the strictest
confidence," Byers assured her.

Scully drew in a deep breath. They would need to know more than she
was telling them, if she expected them to get her the right information.
"OK, guys, I'm going to trust you with this one. But please, don't ask for
more than I'm giving you, all right?"

"Agreed," came three voices in unison.

"I've been given information that pieces of the meteor that crashed at
Tunguska, Siberia in 1908 have found their way into water purifiers that
are now being sold in three small towns in west central New Jersey. The
substance in these filters is believed to cause massive clots in the brain,
leaving no trace. So far over thirty people have died of strokes. I'm
getting the evidence to tie those victims to these filters. The filters are
manufactured by Pristine, Limited out of Helsinki, Finland, but have been
distributed in this country by--"

"Kallenchuck Imports--we're on it, Agent Scully. This is how Mulder got
sick, isn't?" Frohike asked.

"Frohike, you promised," she scolded gently.

"Yeah, I know. Sorry. I understand," the little man replied sadly. She
almost didn't catch when he whispered 'the rat bastards' to conclude his
remarks.

There was a moment of tense silence before she heard one of them speak.
"You know, Agent Scully, Mulder's one tough dude. Something like a
stroke, it might knock him back a bit, but it's not going knock him out.
Why, the only thing they've ever done to him since we've known him that
has sent him in a tail spin was when they've took you--OOOF!"

"Langly, you idiot!" came Frohike's terse whisper. "She doesn't need to
hear that now!"

"You didn't have to hit me so hard, Fro," came the whiney reply.

"I hate to cut this short, guys," Scully interrupted, not bothering to
comment on the revelation she'd just received. "I need to get back upstairs
to Mulder."

"He's in our prayers, Agent Scully," Frohike said tenderly.

"Thank you, Frohike. Thank you, all of you," she said and hung up the
phone.

end of part seven

Somewhere Under Wraps 8/9
vmoseley@fgi.net
disclaimed in part one

When she got back to the room, a dinner tray sat on the bedside table.
Mulder wore a disgusted and angry look on the side of his face that could
hold expression and his mother was standing, arms crossing her chest,
equally upset.

"Is there a problem?" Dana asked, but she figured out that part rather
quickly. The tension in the air was stifling.

"Dr. Foster feels he can eat a liquid diet. But he refuses to try. Keeps
writing this--"

Dana caught the pad as Mrs. Mulder flung it toward her. A single word
stood stark against the white page. CHOKE

She knew this would come. Depression was so much a part of stroke
recovery that most medical schools listed it as a symptom. Why did she
expect her own partner to be any different? She knew this refusal to eat
was his way of dealing with his anger at his condition. She'd seen it
before--a thousand times on hundreds of cases. But she needed to handle it
now without preexisting modes of behavior interfering with her work.

"Mrs. Mulder, you look exhausted. You got in late, you've sat here all
day, you're probably starved. There's a little room on the floor below us,
the room is at the end of the hall on the right, the nurse can show you.
Why don't you get a nice dinner in the cafeteria, and go on down to that
room and catch some sleep. I've been there the last two nights, I know
you'll be comfortable."

At first the older woman looked ready to refuse, but after glancing from
her son to his partner and back again, she decided it wasn't that bad an
idea. "Thank you, Dana. I just might take you up on that offer," she said
with great dignity. She looked at her son, and her expression soften.
"Please, Fox. Eat a little something. For me?"

If looks could turn a person to stone, his mother would have been Venus di
Milo.

Mrs. Mulder shrugged and left, closing the door behind her.

"Well that was a rather nasty display of the terrible two's," Dana risked
pointing out.

He might not be able to talk, but he could glare with the best of them.

"Mulder, G-man, I know you're frustrated. It's got to be awful, wanting
to tell us things and being so limited. But it's temporary, love. You know
that. Just like when you were hit by that dart."

He grabbed for the pad, and she leaned it on his leg. TWO DAYS he
wrote.

"I know, you were only in the hospital two days then before your muscle
control came back. You're not going to have that happen this time, your
recovery will take longer, but believe me, Fox, it will come back."

A single tear skidded down the right side of his face. It dropped silently to
his green hospital gown.

I WANT TO GO HOME he scratched angrily on the paper.

"Soon," she whispered. "I promise, as soon as you're able, we'll go home.
But we'll get there a lot faster if you eat," she countered.

CANT SWALLOW he countered on the paper. Tears were coming from
both eyes now.

"Yes, you can. I'm watching you swallow right now. We'll move the head
of the bed up, prop you up on pillows and the jello and broth will go down
by force of gravity, if nothing else," she grinned. His mouth turned up on
the left side to match hers.

It took a minute to get him in position, and then another minute or two to
get the tray around, the lids off the food and the silverware unwrapped.
She noted that at least he had orange jello. If it had been green or yellow,
all bets would have been off.

He was still too weak to feed himself, so she picked up the spoon. The
first swallow as a bit rocky. Less than a half teaspoon full of jello, but he
did seem to have some difficulty with it. Scully's mind flashed to all the
textbooks from med school, the warnings of aspiration when a stroke
victim swallowed liquid and it went down the bronchial tube instead of the
esophogus. She held her breath when it looked like he was going to choke.

But the jello went down. And stayed down. And was followed by a sip of
broth, and a sip of tea and when Scully took the time to look in his eyes she
saw delight--and gratitude. He finished off the jello, most of the broth and
half of the tea. He looked longingly at the still wrapped crackers, but
Scully grabbed them off the tray and tossed them in the wastebasket.

"We'll tackle the tough stuff later," she assured him. He shot her a
crooked smile.

"The gunmen sent you their best wishes," she told him after she'd settled
him back in a more reclining position. He looked at her expectantly.

"They're tracking down Jerry Kallenchuck for me. If she's in on this, I can
imagine who else is involved," Scully said, chewing on her lip.

RAT BASTARD--KRYCEK came the reply.

She tried hard not to smile, but it broke through any way. "Yes, your
former partner," she teased. A yawn took her completely by surprise, but
Mulder noticed. He was getting that sleepy look to his eyes again, too.
But before he let his lashes drop, he wrote again. MOTEL--SLEEP

"Mulder, I don't want to be so far away," she all but whined in response.
He replied by underlining the words twice and tapping the pen point on the
paper.

"I assume that is a 'direct order', Agent Mulder?" she taunted. He
returned her look with a crooked grin. "OK, I know when I'm not
wanted," she sighed in mock rejection. He was able to move his arm and
hand far enough over to grab her wrist. His grasp was not weak any longer
and his touch made her head spin. Before she knew what she was doing
she was kissing him with all she was worth.

When she leaned back up, they were both a little breathless. "Let's
practice that again tomorrow," she smiled and kissed him again on the
forehead. "G'night G-man. I love you."

He drew the little heart and U on the paper and pressed it into her hand
before she turned to leave.

Ramada Limited
10:35 pm

Scully dragged herself into her room and collapsed on the bed. More than
anything, she wanted another one of those dreams, the dreams where
Mulder was well and they were together. "Pretty sick, Starbuck," she said
aloud in the darkness. "You didn't have sex for four years and now the
thought of not having it for a couple of months has you dreaming plots to
one of Mulder's videos."

She rolled over and punched the pillows in frustration. She missed him. It
was that simple. She missed their give and take, missed his theories,
missed his reactions when she tried to reign him back to earth. The few
moments in his hospital room when they'd discussed the case had been like
a small wafting of breeze on a scorching day. It left her wanting more.

Finally, in an act of desparation, she went into his room, grabbed his
Knicks jersey, pulled it on over her head and crawled up on the bed. The
maid had come and gone, the pillow cases and sheets had been changed.
But if she closed her eyes, she could still imagine that she could feel the
impression that his body had made while he slept. And tugging the
stretched out hem of the jersey close to her face, she could smell his smell,
a slightly sweaty mix of soap and faded cologne, but Mulder, all the same.
That's how she fell asleep.

The ringing was too distant. She couldn't place it. It sounded like a
buzzer under water--muffled. It took her several seconds to realize that it
was her cell phone and it was ringing in the jacket of her suit coat. She ran
into the other room to grab it before the other party hung up.

"Scully," she rasped, breathless after her tangle with the coverlet and
Mulder's jersey.

"Agent Scully, sorry to wake you," came Byers clipped tones. "We have
some information that you might find interesting. It seems that an old
acquaintence of yours is in Trenton, New Jersey tonight."

"Who?" Scully demanded, then softened her voice. "Sorry, Byers, it's
been a long week. Who are you talking about?"

"Alex Krycek. We found a number of rental agreements made out to
him--all for Kallenchuck Imports, Inc. One of them was a lease for
warehouse space--made out three months ago. Our guess is that's where
they were keeping the filters before they delivered them to the stores."

"Where is this warehouse?" Scully was scrambling for her notepad and a
pencil. Chances were good that Krycek was trying to cover his tracks by
now, but if she was really lucky, she might catch in the act.

"It's on the south end of town in a new industrial park. 5523 Crichton
Drive," Frohike chimed in. He quickly detailed the best route to take to
get to the warehouse. "There's a phone number, too," he added gleefully.

Scully gave a short grim laugh. "No, thanks. I prefer to come
unannounced. I owe you guys."

"Hey, consider it a 'get well' present to your partner. But the minute he's
up and around, you're both back on the tab," Langly teased.

"Agent Scully, please, be careful," Byers warned one final time and the line
was disconnected.

It took her less than an hour to get to the warehouse. All the way over
she'd convinced herself that she'd check it out and if there were any
suspicious activity, she'd call John Towers for back up. At least, that was
the plan.

It would have worked as a plan if she hadn't been run off the road. The
warehouse was in a new industrial park, it was the only building in the
section farthest from the road. Scully was so intent on looking around for
signs of activity that she never noticed the dark blue car, headlights turned
off, as it came up almost silently behind her. To be exact, she would never
have noticed it except when the driver revved that engine and rammed her
from behind. Scully took that jolt, but the next one hit even harder and
drove her directly into a newly installed cement light pole.

She woke up to a face full of airbag and the sound of a radiator hissing
against the night air. Before she could move, the driver side door flew
open and rough hands were pulling her from the car. At first, she was
disoriented enough to think it was paramedics from some rescue team. It
was only when she shook her head and felt one of the burly men pull her
arms behind her back, securing them with duct tape that she realized she
was in serious trouble. The cloth soaked in chloroform was the last piece
of evidence she needed to decide that she was probably a little too late in
calling for that back up.

end of part eight

Somewhere Under Wraps 9/9
vmoseley@fgi.net
disclaimed in part one

It was cold when Scully woke up. And dark. The floor she was laying on
was damp and smelled of mildew. A basement, she immediately surmised.
Her hands were still taped behind her, but she was grateful to discover that
her captors had left her legs free and her eyes and mouth uncovered.

She tried unsuccessfully to look around her prison. A tiny sliver of light
about the four sides of a wooden door was all the illumination she could
detect. By standing and placing her back against the wall, she was able to
determine the approximate size of the room--somewhere around 10 foot by
10 foot. Two of the walls were damp cinderblock or brick, two were
wooden--she assumed it was an old coal bin in the cellar of an older home.

After figuring out as much as she could about where she was, Scully turned
her thoughts on getting out. The door seemed to be the only means of
escape. If there were windows, they were above her head and she couldn't
reach them. There was no furniture in the room, so climbing on anything
was out of the question. She was forced to wait and see who came
through the door.

She didn't have to wait long. The door creaked open with a sickening
squeal and the person standing in the doorway was nothing more than a
black sillouette. He was tall, judging from where he stood in the doorway,
and not what Scully would ever describe as thin or weak. Her heart
dropped when she realized there weren't too many ways to overpower this
joker with her hands behind her back.

The silouette reached forward and pulled a chain from the ceiling--the
room was instantly illuminated by a 75 watt bulb the swayed to and fro.
Scully blinked at the brightness before focusing on the face of her captor.

Alex Krycek.

"You know, I was going to say we have to stop meeting like this, but it
occured to me that we've never met like this before," Krycek said with a
cruel smile. "Oh, by the way, condolences on your partner. Guess the old
wiring wasn't up to par, huh?"

"Cut the crap, Alex, I know what you've done. You were behind all these
murders. You and Jerry Kallenchuck," Scully hissed.

At the mention of Kallenchuck, Krycek's face darkened. "Jeraldine is
dead. I used her name because the company already had the connections to
get items into the country unnoticed."

"What's the matter, Alex? Don't tell me you had feelings for Ms.
Kallenchuck," Scully taunted. Maybe, if she got him mad enough, he
would make a false move.

But anger wasn't his response, just a deep sense of sadness. "You and
Mulder aren't the only ones in the universe to lose a sibling, you know,
Scully," he said quietly. "But that doesn't matter. I have a new associate.
Two of them, in fact. And that's all you need to know for now."

Krycek didn't bother turning around, but yelled over his shoulder. "Hey,
Bob. Come on in and say 'hello' to your collegue." He grinned foolishly
at the shocked look on Scully's face at the sight of the other man. "Agent
Dana Scully, I'd like you to meet Dr. Robert Morrow. Oh, but then, I
forgot--you two have already been introduced." Krycek didn't even bother
to hide his own laughter at his joke.

Scully's shock was soon replace by red hot anger. "You son of a bitch!
You tried to get me to put Mulder in a nursing home! What were you
going to do? Make sure he didn't survive?"

"On the contrary, Agent Scully," Morrow said grinning ear to ear. "It
simply makes it easier to get the raw materials. Your partner is a very
important person, in a universal sense. He's now the only living repository
of antibody for the 'black cancer'. His bone marrow is our only factory at
the moment. His blood is priceless."

"Leave him alone," Scully seethed through clenched teeth.

"Ah, now, Scully, you know we can't do that," Krycek chimed in. "No
more than we could let you live now that you know what we're after. But
don't worry. Our other associate, Dr. Jeffrey Scott, is just waiting for
word from us. He's going to be giving your partner a little shot tonight.
Nothing to die from, but enough to ensure he never wakes up completely.
See, Scully, he won't even miss you."

At Krycek's laugh, Scully lunged, head down, ready to butt him in the
stomach. Morrow stepped up and flattened her with a right hook to her
face. She landed in a heap but was on her feet in a split second. This time,
Krycek grabbed her with one arm, while Morrow produced a syringe which
he imbedded in her thigh.

"You thought I was stupid enough to underestimate you, didn't you,
Scully? You always were more fun than that scarecrow you hang out with.
Nighty night, Scully. I'm afraid I won't see you in the morning."

The last thing she remembered was hearing the door slam shut and the lock
click in place.

It took several kisses to get Scully to wake up. She groaned and tried to
roll over, but with her hands behind her back, she resembled a turtle that
had been placed on it's shell upside down.

"Easy, G-woman. Think about where you want to go and use your legs
more."

"Mulder?!" she whispered hoarsely. "My God, Mulder, how did you get
here?" Almost as soon as the words left her lips, she realized their
impossiblity. "Mulder, you shouldn't be here. You should be at the
hospital."

"Scully, quit trying to rationalize this. I'm trying to get you out of here,"
her partner replied, a little hotly.

"Mulder. Are you wearing any clothes?" It seemed a perfectly reasonable
question--given the rest of the situation.

"This is NOT the time, Agent Scully," Mulder shot back.

"Yes, it is. Answer the question."

There was a pause. "Yes, I'm wearing clothes. What about it?"

The returning pause was even longer. "Now I'm really confused," she
sighed.

"What's the matter, Dana?" Mulder asked, his tone one of gentle concern.

"If you were naked, I'd say this was just another one of those dreams I've
been having. But if you've got clothes on, either this is a different dream
or I'm hallucinating," she answered distantly.

"Scully. There is another possiblity," he replied with quiet determination.

She snorted out a breath. "Well, whether a dream or a hallucination,
you're running true to form, Mulder. What's the 'other possiblity'? This
should be good."

"I don't expect you to believe me, Scully, but I refuse to lie to you just to
make you feel better. Remember that time we ran into Sgt. Rappo
Trimble?"

"The time you tried to convince me that a paraplegic vet was killing people
through astral projection?" she taunted.

"That's the one."

"So what are you saying, Mulder. That you are 'projecting astrally'?" she
mocked.

"If the shoe fits, Scully."

"Mulder, get real! I mean, listen to me. I've been knocked out, given a
strong sedative, I'm locked in a basement--there is a lot more evidence that
I'm dreaming you up than there is that you are really here--or spiritually
here--or whatever you want to call it."

"What if I could tell you something that I should not know--something
totally impossible for me to know at this time, and you can verify it--would
you believe me then?" he asked.

"That's ridiculous, Mulder. Not only that, if I'm making this up--I would
already know whatever you're going to tell me," she countered.

"Not this, you don't," he shot back.

"OK, hit me with your best shot," she challenged.

"You're pregnant. By less than one week. And it's a boy," he said evenly.

"Fuck you, you bastard!" she seethed.

"Scully, listen to me. It's true. I saw it. I still can't believe it but
it's true
and I have a theory why it happened. When the stroke hit, I felt so cut off,
so alone. God, I couldn't feel you near me. I've never had that feeling
before, not since we met. The other times, when I've been hurt, like when
I was shot or when I was in Alaska and had the virus, I always knew you
were there. But this time--I don't know, maybe it was the electrical storm
raging in my brain--I couldn't find you. I couldn't feel you."

"Stop it," she whimpered.

"Scully, I'm NOT doing this to hurt you. Hell, I'm trying to help you! So
when I got so scared that I couldn't find you, I knew I had to look for you.
Suddenly, I was floating. Not very far. You were still in the hospital, you
had only gone down to this little room. It had white walls, the window was
cut in half, I guess a wall was put up after the window was put in. And the
sink had a light fixture, but there was no mirror--only the brackets where
they'd been. Anyway, I found you there. And I wanted so much to hold
you, to feel your arms around me. So I did, I leaned over and hugged you.
I must have hugged too hard because I was suddenly traveling through
your skin--into your body. It was incredible. I knew I wasn't hurting you,
but it gave me the willies at first. Then I started looking around.
Scully, I
saw it. I saw our baby's conception. Right there, in your womb. The
ovum came from your right ovary. I saw the sperm attack, god they were
persistent little suckers. I saw the one successful one, the guy with the big
Y on his back--Scully, it's a boy. And I saw the fertilized egg implant
itself, or rather himself, on your uterine wall. Scully, they lied. You
aren't
barren. You don't have that many left, ova that is, but you aren't barren.
It only takes one, you know."

She was silent for a long time. This wasn't a dream, it was a nightmare.
But it was only a nightmare if the story he'd just told her was false. Could
it be? Could she really be pregnant?

"You're lying," she concluded flatly.

"I've never lied to you, Dana. I may have omitted some of the facts a time
or two, but outright lie to you--never. And you know it."

She sighed. That much was true. Even when he'd run off, it was never
really like a lie. There was rejection there, but she never felt lied to.

"Why are you telling me this, Mulder?" she rasped. She didn't know when
the tears had formed in her eyes, but they were clouding what little vision
she had in the darkness.

"Well, one reason is that I'm so happy, and I wanted you to know how
very much I love you--both of you. Another reason is I have to get you
out of here, or you and the baby are going to be dead, if Krycek and
Morrow have anything to do with it." He stopped for a moment. "And
there is that self-preservation thing. I don't want to sleep for the rest
of my
life, Scully. And I sure as hell have no intentions of being somebody's
'antibody farm', either. So I have to get you out of here so you can get to
the hospital and save my sorry ass again. Sorry, love, but somebody has to
do it, and you're the only one I trust."

She sniffed loudly. "How are you going to get me out of here?" she asked.

"You ask the best questions, Scully. I need you to pound on the door."

"Then what?" she asked, getting a little concerned.

"Then, when somebody comes to the door, I punch their lights out and you
take off. I can tell you how to get out, and where they've got the keys to
the car and how to get back to the hospital. By the way, John knows
you've been taken. The police found his car at the industrial park,
abandoned with the airbag inflated and your cell phone on the ground. It's
history, by the way. John and the team have been combing the area for you
since midnight."

"Mulder, if you ARE really a spirit just projecting, how the hell do you
expect to physically manifest yourself enough to punch somebody's lights
out?" Scully hissed.

She jumped a foot when she felt his lips on hers. His tongue traced the
outline of her lips, and then forced them open. She felt his hands grab her
shoulders and he kissed her, his tongue stoking her gums, the roof of her
mouth, dueling with her own tongue. His body pressed up against her and
she could feel his strong response to her, hard and demanding. He moved
his hips and she thought she'd pass out right then and there. He pulled
back before she melted to a pool at his feet.

"Enough demostrations. Are you convinced?" he asked, not even winded.

"Door . . . pound . . . punch . . ." she responded weakly.

"Yeah, I think you've got it," he chuckled.

She waited a few minutes before she started pounding. She told herself
that the escape plan was a decent idea, astral Mulder at her side or not, but
in a deep secret part of her heart, where only she knew her thoughts, she
couldn't help but wonder if he might not need to 'restore' himself a little
after the passion on their kiss. She knew she needed to.

"OK, Scully. Show time," he said finally.

She went up to the wooden door and started to pound. "Krycek, hurry!
Get in here! I have to tell you something. Something we discovered about
the black cancer! You need me, Krycek. I've done more research on this
thing than you can imagine. I have imformation, Krycek--I'm willing to
trade." She didn't know how long she pounded, or how long she yelled,
but finally, she heard footsteps in the hall.

"I don't know what kind of game you're playing, Scully, but I've got
Morrow here with me, so if you try anything, it's nighty night time for
good--got that?" Krycek yelled through the door as she heard the key in
the lock.

The minute the door was open, she felt a strong wind blow past her.
Krycek, a surprised look on his face, was momentarily suspended in midair,
then went crashing into the wall on the far side of the hallway. His head hit
the cinderblock with a sickening thud--a thin trail of blood outlined his
progress as he slid boneless to the floor.

For his part, Dr. Morrow proved to be easier. Obviously not trained in
combat, especially with an unseeable opponent, he dropped the syringe and
started to sprint for the stairs. Scully couldn't see a thing, but
suddenly the
syringe was brought up and impaled itself in the good doctor's
hindquarters. The plunger depressed, but not fully, then the syringe
dropped to the floor. Morrow looked at Scully with a mixture of horror
and awe before his eyes glazed over and he, too, landed in a heap on the
cold cement.

Before she could even focus on the bodies laying before her, she heard a
ripping sound behind her and her hands were free of the tape. Scully ran
over and checked pulses on both men. "They're alive."

"Good," came the disembodied voice of her partner. "Come on Scully. I
know they're both out of it, but let's not take chances."

All the way up the stairs and through the small farm house, she could feel
Mulder's hand on the small of her back, directing her, guiding her. She
found the keys in the kitchen, Mulder had led her right to them. She found
the car parked in the back--again, Mulder had pushed her gently in that
direction. It was only a moment before she was behind the wheel and a
slight tug on her arm forced her to turn right at the main road. In the
distance, she could see the lights of a town. She headed straight for them.

"Mulder?" she called in the darkness of the speeding car. "Mulder, what
town is that ahead of us?"

Silence greeted her. "Come on, Mulder. I know you and 'shy' is not in
your vocabulary."

No voice answered her. For that matter, the comforting presense of her
partner, a feeling that she often took for granted on cases, was no where
around her. But just as she was beginning to think she actually was
dreaming the entire night, she looked at a passing road sign which proudly
announced that Robinsonville was home to a Kiwanis Club which held it's
meetings at the local Shoney's. She was less than five minutes from the
hospital just as the sun was peeking over the horizon.

Robinsonville Hospital
6:12 am

She was willing to kill for a cell phone, or her gun for that matter. But she
had neither. So she parked at the Emergency door, effectively blocking it
and left the keys in place and the engine running. Flying past the confused
and angry security guard in ER, she pointed her thumb over her shoulder
toward the car. "Evidence in a kidnapping. Call Chief Simmons."
Without looking back, she sprinted for the elevators.

When she got to Mulder's floor, Mrs. Mulder was standing out in the
hallway talking to one of the nurses. "I just don't understand," the older
woman was saying, wiping tears from her eyes. "He was doing so much
better yesterday. He was moving his right side and all. How could he slip
into a coma so quickly?"

Dana didn't even bother to acknowledge Mrs. Mulder or the nurse. She
punched open the door and ran to the bed. Mulder was perfectly still,
breathing shallowly on his own. She leaned over and touched his cheek.
He didn't respond. She shook his left shoulder and shouted his name, but
he didn't move a muscle.

"Nurse!" she shouted into the hallway. The woman ran into the room, with
Mrs. Mulder hot on her heels. "I want blood drawn and sent to the lab
immediately. Tell them to look for any sedative or general anesthetic. I
suspect he's been given an ample dose--enough to keep him out for some
time."

"But Ms. Scully, there were no orders given for a heavy sedative," the
nurse protested. "None at all! I can show you his chart--"

"When was Dr. Scott here last night?" Scully asked.

The nurse looked back at her, surprised. "Let me look, it'll be on Mr.
Mulder's chart." She ran out to the desk and was back in a few seconds.
"I don't understand. Dr. Scott usually makes his rounds late in the day, but
this entry says--"

"He was here after midnight, wasn't he?" Scully asked evenly. She was
reaching for the phone at Mulder's bedside. "He injected the drug into
Mulder's IV while he was here, knowing that it would give the appearance
that Mulder had gone into a coma," she told the nurse. She turned to a
near hysterical Mrs. Mulder. "Scott was probably going to come back
early this morning and convince you to put Fox in a nursing home as soon
as possible--probably this afternoon. One that he would suggest, no
doubt."

"Dana, I d-don't understand," Mrs. Mulder stammered, shaking her head,
eyes wild with fear.

"It was a plot, all along, but I caught on to it. Or rather, we did." Scully
gave her partner a smile. "It's all right now, Mrs. Mulder. I can't explain
all of it right now. I have to get hold of John Towers and the police. But
rest assured, I'll make sure Fox is safe."

The nurse hurried past them with the vials of blood, while Dana placed the
call to John Towers.

"Where in the Sam Hill are you?!" Towers demanded and calmed down
only slightly when Dana explained that she was at the hospital. She
directed him to send a team to the farmhouse where Krycek and Morrow
had held her and requested an All Points Bulletin to be sent out for Jeffrey
Scott. John agreed to meet up with her as soon as he'd checked out the
farmhouse himself.

"What do we do now?" Mrs. Mulder asked tiredly.

"Wait," Scully replied. "With time, probably by late tonight or early
tomorrow, he should start to wake up on his own. We need to watch for
complications, but with any luck, he'll be fine." She sat down on one of
the chairs and reached over the bed rail to take her partner's hand. "At
least, I hope so."

Robinsonville Hospital
Two Days Later

Scully woke up to find a pair of hazel eyes staring at her. As she focused
on them, they danced with the smile that grace the rest of the long face.
Both sides of his mouth were turned up, something that she'd come to
cherish in the last few days.

"Nice nap?" she asked. He nodded, a little jerky, but she didn't mind. He
pointed to the open file folder in her lap. "Just John's report. I'll
save it
for you, you'll get a real kick out of Colton's description of sitting next to
John's car for 6 hours, waiting for the forensics team and the tow truck."
He chuckled soundlessly and favored her with a hearty 'thumbs up'. He
pointed to the report again.

"Generally speaking, about what you'd expect. By the time they got back
to the farmhouse, the place was deserted. They did find a trail of blood
where Krycek connected with the wall in the basement, and it confirmed
that it was Krycek's blood, but both of them were long gone. I found out
while you were sleeping that Jeffrey Scott was found dead in his garage.
Apparent suicide." She nodded at his responding shake of his head and
frown. "I know, I don't buy it either, but there were no prints, and no
reason to suspect foul play."

"John thinks they rounded up all the filters. You were infected by a filter
they found at Mrs. Gillman's house. Fortunately for her, she kept it for her
husband's coffeemaker and she doesn't drink coffee. When she made you
a cup, you injested the substance. It took a while for it to affect you."
She
looked at the folder again. "I hope someday you'll tell me what you
remember from Russia."

She looked up when she heard a soft thuding. Mulder was patting the bed
next to him. She frowned at first, but then quickly got up and closed the
door. Taking off her shoes, she crawled up into the bed on his left
side--still his strongest side--and curled herself around him. His arm came
around her shoulder protectively and he placed a gentle kiss on her temple.

"Love . . . you," he said in a low halting whisper.

"Love you, too, G-man," she murmured into his shoulder. She pulled back
when she felt him shake lightly. Afraid that he might be experiencing a
seizure, an after affect of the sedative Scott had given him, she looked at
him with concern. "Are you all right, Mulder?"

He was laughing! It had been so long, and he still couldn't quite make the
sounds, but he was laughing quietly with her in his arms. When he finally
got control of himself, he kissed her again. "Door . . . pound . . . punch,"
he rasped and laughed again.

She looked at him wide eyed. She had told no one how she'd dreamed that
Mulder had come to save her. In essence, she reported that she'd been
able to startle Krycek and throw him against the basement wall by throwing
her weight against the door as he opened it. No one had questioned her on
it, least of all her partner. "Mulder, what are you saying?" she demanded.

He didn't respond directly. He just let his arm move down her back until
his hand was resting on her waist. His fingers caressed tiny circles on her
stomach. "Love . . . you . . . too . . . little guy," he said softly, and
then
stared directly in to her eyes, challenging her to deny what he was saying.

"We won't know for a few more days. It's too early for a pregnancy test,"
she told him.

"I . . . already . . . know," he replied, closing his eyes and hugging her to
him.

"Mulder, I still don't buy all of this. I mean, sure, you might be able to
convince me that we have some kind of connection. Maybe I said
something while I was sleeping or something. But to say that you
'traveled' out of your body and into mine, that we made love during your
travels or that you flew to a farmhouse that you didn't even know I would
be at--"

He answered her objections by placing his right index finger clumsily on her
lips. "Shhhh," he hushed her. "Sleep," he ordered.

For once, she obeyed a direct command without comment.

the end.
Vickie

Stand up for what is right,
Even if you stand alone.
quote from a poster

Vickie