"Aftermath" (2/2)
Date: 20 Sep 1995

AFTERMATH (Part Two of Two)

It's in part one. Welcome to the Midwest.

St. Louis, MO
January 9, 1996
11:45 CST

The foursome finally caught up with each other at the waiting
area after exiting the plane. Mulder took a moment to give Scully a
quick hug, then turned around when he heard his name being called.
In the crowd of people meeting the passengers was a familiar face.

Jeff Andrews and Fox Mulder had gone through the Academy
together, worked under Reggie Purdue in Violent Crimes together
and then had gone separate ways. Jeff was a SAC, Special Agent in
Charge in the St. Louis Bureau office. Even though they had
followed different paths, the two still considered each other friends,
or had before the incidents which had led to Mulder leaving the
Bureau. Jeff had tried unsuccessfully to help Mulder, but his
assistance was quietly and politely refused. It hurt Andrews to be
rebuffed in his efforts, but he had eventually accepted his friend's
decision. So it was with great anticipation that Andrews waited for
his friend.

"Mulder, you old son of a . . ." Andrews voice boomed across
the heads of the other passengers.

"Andrews, don't you _ever_ shut up?" Mulder bellowed back
and walked over to embrace the other agent in a bear hug. He
turned back and motioned for the others to follow. "Jeff Andrews,
SAC, this is Agent Brad LaMont and Agent Angela Morphew and
this is my wife, Dr. Dana Scully.

Andrews shook hands with the two agents and turned his
attention to Dana. "Well, I guess I can see why you didn't want my
help getting reinstated, old buddy. I don't think I would want to be
separated from this one for too long, either." He smiled charmingly
at Scully, who recognized him for what he was--a slightly aging
college freshman in a nice suit.

On the way to the office, Andrews filled the group in on the St.
Louis office's involvement in the murders. The local police had
called almost immediately after the bodies had been found. Due to
the news reports of the victims in other states, Iowa, Arkansas and
Nebraska, respectively, the St. Clair County Sheriff knew he was in
over his head.

"We have the bodies on ice at the office, Dr. Scully. I was told
you might want to give them the once over. I can drop you off, and
then I'll take you other three out to the crime scenes. It's been a
few days, but knowing you, Spooky, you'll sniff up something," he
looked over at his friend and smiled brightly. "Hey, it's good to
have you back!" he added in a quiet aside.

"I hate to disappoint you, Jeff, but I'm not 'back'. This is a one
night stand, guy. As soon as it's over, I slip back into my corduroy
jacket with the leather patches and become the absent minded
professor again." He knew that wasn't what Andrews wanted to
hear, but he couldn't lead his friend on, either. It was better to be
up front about it.

"Yeah, right, Mulder. And I bet you've stopped eating
sunflower seeds, too," Andrews snorted, turning his attention back
to the snow covered highway.

They had left Dana off and were making their way out to the
crime scenes. The bodies had been found some 100 yard from a
frontage road, in a wooded area just outside the I 270 beltway
around the western outskirts of the city. Both women, stripped of
all clothing, and most of their skin, they had been discovered by a
young couple snowmobiling through the woods. The ME report
listed the probable time of death at just over three days before
discovery. From the lack of blood at the scene, it was determined
that the women were murdered elsewhere and dumped in the
woods.

Mulder took little time getting to work. There had been a thaw
just before the bodies were found, and then a quick freeze, thus
leaving a perfect impression of each body in the frozen mud and
snow. He frowned, since the snow had covered the bodies,
meaning that any footprints would have been left during a cold snap
and thus, were lost to them. Still he took his time and carefully
surveyed every crack and crevice in the small clearing between old
pine and oak trees.

LaMont and Morphew shifted back and forth and stomped their
feet, trying to keep warm. Andrews lounged against the minivan he
had picked them up at the airport in. He had become accustomed
to the midwestern winters, but more importantly, he knew Mulder
and he knew this would be a painstaking endeavor. It was better
just to be patient and let the man work. <After all, that's what
we're paying him for,> Jeff reminded himself wryly. Only Mulder
could get himself kicked out of the Bureau in April and come back
making twice as much consulting in January!

Finally, Mulder returned to the car and opened the door to get
in. The others followed suit silently. Once in the car, with the
heater on full blast, LaMont could no longer hold his tongue. "So
what do you make of it?" he asked.

"Nice trees, great picnic site, but not a clue to be found.
However, it's apparent that whoever did this was either very strong
or those women were teleported to that sight," Mulder said,
rubbing and blowing on his hands to get them warmed up.

"What makes you say that?" Morphew asked.

"They were carried and dumped there. This road is at least 100
yards. They weren't dragged, they weren't pulled on a sled. They
were carried."

"Or 'teleported'," Jeff added with a wicked grin.

"'Beam me up, Scottie!' Let's get back, I'm starved," Mulder
said with a relaxed smile, but soon was staring out at the barren
snowfields as they passed, lost in thought.

St. Louis Bureau office of the FBI
4:25 pm

<OK, one more time,> Dana thought. She had gone over the
lab results countless times already, but she just was not ready to
accept the findings. She had taken new samples and run them
herself and still the little 'buggers', as she was affectionately calling
them in her mind, were there. She sat back on the stool and stared
off into space for a moment. She had hoped she would never see
that particular virus staring up at her from a microscope again as
long as she lived.

Too many memories of that time crashed through her. The
frantic search for Fox' whereabouts, the confrontation with the
dark, bearded man known only as X <right out of James Bond>,
she mused. AD Skinner showing up at Fox' door, bloody, handing
her a slip of white paper--Fox' reprieve or her death sentence--it all
depended on how fast she could make it to Dead Horse, Alaska.
And once she was there, and they had Fox in the ER, the fight
continued as she had to battle her own colleagues for the chance to
save his life! The doctors at the base had no idea of what they were
dealing with. They saw hypothermia as the enemy, she saw it as a
savior.

In her mind, the scream of the heart monitor replayed, again and
again, each time seeming like an eternity before Dr. Jacobs finally
let her near Fox, let her take over. She hadn't prayed that hard in a
long, long time, as she placed the paddles once--no response--
twice, a faint pulse. Still, it meant he was alive for the moment. He
had been dead and then he was alive. If she had been given a
second to think about it, she would have crowed with delight! All
she could allow herself, though, was a brush against his hair, a
murmur in his ear, and then she was barking orders to the nurses,
about transfusions, and antiviral drugs she had only read about in
medical journals, they were so new. Oh, and of course, the wait,
to see if any of the frantic efforts had paid off, to see if he really
would stay with her.

"Agent Scully," a voice from behind her called softly. She
turned automatically at the name.

"I'm not an Agent, anymore, Ms. Carson. Just plain old Dr.
Scully," she corrected Jeff Andrews secretary. The woman was a
saint, she had literally given the orders to everyone in the building
that Dana receive full cooperation and carte blanche on anything
she requested. Of course, the orders came from Jeff, but Ms.
Carson had taken on the job of following those orders with
particular zeal. <I would quake in front of this woman,> Dana
smiled to herself. <Jeff will probably take her with him when he
moves up the ladder to DC. If he doesn't, he needs his head
examined!>

Ms. Carson smiled, sort of sadly and nodded. "Agent Andrews
just called. He said they were finished out at the crime scene and
should be getting back to town in about a half hour. I thought you
might want to know," she added. She gave Dana another smile and
quietly closed the door behind her.

All day Dana had been getting similar treatment. It was as if she
were some sort of war hero, coming back to tour the troops.
Surely, even out in the sticks, every field agent knew that the
infamous team of Mulder and Scully had left the FBI. The only
thing she wondered about was what kind of legends had grown up
around them. They could have been branded traitors and cowards,
but from the looks she was receiving and the way people were
respectfully giving her the royal treatment, it was more likely that
she and her husband were now the FBI equivalent of Paul Bunyan
and Pecos Bill. <Maybe with a slight gender change, in the latter
case> she giggled to herself. Still, it was something she wanted to
mention to Fox as soon as he returned. Maybe it would soften him
up a little.

Nightmares not withstanding, Dana had had a wonderful day!
Oh, finding the retrovirus in the blood samples had been disturbing,
but getting back into criminal forensics had been all she
remembered and more. She had only missed going out to the crime
scene with the other four. She had taken a short break, and
imagined them out at the scene. Fox would be examining the
ground, the trees, everything with the concentration of a blood
hound. Morphew and LaMont would be standing, perplexed,
trying to see what he was seeing. Andrews would take on her own
role, that of observer, watching for breaks in his concentration, a
look up, a call of 'Scully, come look at this', any indication that he
had stumbled upon something. It was like watching the scientific
method at work, the way he combed over a crime scene. And if he
walked away silently, empty-handed, then everyone could rest
assured that there had been nothing to find.

<To him, it's a one night stand,> she told herself as she shrugged
off the lab coat and slipped back into the burgundy jacket. <He
doesn't want to come back. And I won't force him to, if he doesn't
want it,> she resolved. They hadn't talked about it, yet, they had
been sort of busy just getting to all the different destinations, but
Dana had a hunch. They were on probation. If Cancerman really
was in a grave somewhere, there was a chance that someone else in
his place was offering them an olive branch. It would be a chance
to come back to their old lives, move home to DC, pick up where
they had left off. But it would also be very different this time. This
time, she would only come back on her own terms.

<Yeah, right! Like you'll change years of Bureau policy by
throwing one little hissy fit in Skinner's office! You really are
starting to think of yourself as Pecos Bill!> she chided herself.
Then she went back down to Jeff's office to wait for Fox and the
others.

She didn't have long to wait. Jeff's half hour was actually closer
to 15 minutes and she had just sat down when four slightly
bedraggled people trudged through the door, still red-faced and
shivering from the wind and cold. Fox didn't say a word, just
slumped into the chair next to her, his legs outstretched, looking
exhausted.

"Take him and feed him, Dana. Better let LaMont drive. His
blood sugar hit bottom somewhere on Forest Avenue and I didn't
have a stash of seeds like I used to carry when I was around him,"
Jeff said sympathetically. "Oh, did you find anything," he
remembered to ask, before they made their way out the door.

"Just something to add to the confusion," she shot back over her
shoulder. "Give us a little time to mull it over, I'll tell you
tomorrow."

"Don't you mean 'Mulder' it over," he laughed and waved them
goodbye.

"Are you OK," she whispered in Fox' ear as they made their way
to the parking garage. Jeff had arranged for them to use a motor
pool car while they were in St. Louis. Brad had the keys clutched
possessively in his hand, searching the plates for the right vehicle
and Angela looked too cold and tired to notice anything around her.

"I'm just tired and hungry," Fox said, finally, in a voice that
sounded too weak to be just a whisper for the benefit of his wife.

"You didn't find anything," she reasoned.

"Two hollowed out spots on the ground. No blood. . .NO
blood! Dana, I think those women were frozen or something when
they were dumped. There was not a drop of blood at the sight. It
was too weird," he said tiredly.

"I have something to tell you, but it can wait till we eat," she
whispered, glancing back at Angela and Brad. Fox followed her
look and nodded. More 'mature audience only' stuff the kiddies
shouldn't be subjected to, yet, no doubt.

Their motel was close to the airport, and actually fairly nice,
compared to many of the places the Bureau had stuck them in. An
Olive Garden Restaurante(tm) was next door and the foursome
agreed it was closest and fastest, so after checking in, they walked
across the parking lot and ordered. Mulder personally devoured a
basket of bread sticks and two plates of salad before the main
course was served, but by the time the check arrived, his color was
better, his voice was stronger and he was talking animatedly about
the old files and UFO involvement in previous cases.

"You mean to tell me that you actually saw an alien!" Angela
huffed in disbelief as Mulder told a very abbreviated version of the
hunt for the Alien Bounty Hunter.

"No, Morphew, I'm telling you I not only 'saw' it, the bastard
tried real hard to kill me and I still have the scars and a shoulder
that won't stay in place to prove it," he shot back. She shook her
head and turned to Dana for substantiation. Dana smiled and
nodded.

"Not to mention, the blood work, the lab results, and a hospital
bill totally close to the balance in Bill Gates checking account," she
added, with a Mona Lisa smile.

"Which the Bureau at first refused to cover, but finally caved
in," Fox nodded, deep in thought. "It would have been a lot
cheaper if I had just died on the ice, I guess," he said, eyes
twinkling with mischief.

Dana took the joke for what it was and reached over and took
his hand. "Cheaper, but who ever said 'fun' was cheap?" she
smirked. He pulled her hand to his mouth and gave it a quick kiss.

"Brad, I think you have the Bureau's credit card, don't you?"
Fox asked, looking only at his wife. "We'll catch up with you two
tomorrow, motel coffee shop, around 8:00." He ignored the groan
from Angela and pulled Dana to her feet. The two walked back to
the motel, hand in hand.

Once in the room, with the door closed, Fox plopped down on
the bed, kicked off his shoes and put his hands behind his head.
"OK, I'm ready! What did you find?" he asked, patiently.

Dana retrieved her briefcase and pulled a chair over next to the
bed. She dug around and finally produced a file folder and flipped
pages until she came to the one she wanted, then handed it to Fox.

He took the folder and squinted at it. Dana sighed, went to get
his glasses, and then he looked at it again. "My sweets, I know you
think I'm brilliant and that all of this should make sense, but what
the hell am I looking at?" he demanded in exasperation.

"You're looking at the toxicological report," she said speaking
slowly. "See anything out of the ordinary?"

"All levels look normal. Of course, I skipped most of my
chemistry classes to play rugby, but I don't see anything. . ."

"Look down at the blood chemistry. Then think back. Where
have we seen that before. . ." she gently prodded. She smiled as the
realization hit him and he sat straight up on the bed.

"Agent Weiss!" he exclaimed. "Oh my God, Dana, these
women had their blood thickened. . ."

"Just like Agent Weiss," she agreed, smiling. Her demeanor
changed and she looked away. "And just like you," she added in a
half-whisper.

Mulder ignored her discomfort at the memories for the moment.
"Do you know what this means, Dana? There has been alien
involvement in this case! And the thickened blood would certainly
explain the lack of blood at the sight! Have you looked at the other
autopsies?"

"I looked, but unfortunately, those murder victims were found in
small rural areas. The ME's didn't bother looking beyond the
obvious. In those cases, they did a quick and dirty tox and came up
with nothing. It's winter out here, Mulder, they probably thought
the thickening was because the blood had been in a frozen state
when it dried or something. They didn't know what to look for.
Fortunately for us, these bodies were still available to look at and
we had the technology to get better results." She took the file and
put it back in the briefcase.

"And we had a pathologist who knew what she was doing," he
added pointedly. "Well, my love, I think that little tidbit just earned
us our fee." He reached over and pulled her on to the bed, shifting
so that she was pressed against his side.

"It's not over, yet, Cave man. We still have to find out 'why'
these people were butchered. Somehow, I don't think 'alien meat
shopping' is a valid cause of death anymore now than it was a year
ago. And the cuts were made with some very earth-like substances.
I found small filings from what could only be a straight-edged razor
and definite signs of rope burns on the wrists and ankles. I don't
think we can completely rule out 'human' involvement, anymore
than we can completely substantiate 'alien' involvement." She sat
up on the bed, legs crossed Indian fashion, waiting for him to rise to
the bait.

"If memory serves, Mr. Bounty Hunter used some particularly
earth-like tools when he did his job. That little ice pick he used to
pierce the base of the skull was probably union made. And my
handcuffs, when he was bouncing me off the walls of the sub like so
much silly putty," he said, the agitation showing in his voice. He
curled himself from the bed and started to pace.

"So you're thinking it's the bounty hunter again? But why? He
eliminated all the Gregors! And these people were definitely
humans, Mulder! They don't resemble each other, and they don't
dissolve into green slime when killed. What reason could he have
for coming back?" She was watching him pace like a caged tiger
and it was giving her a headache. Absently, she reached over and
pulled the folder out of her briefcase, glancing at it with half
interest. Suddenly, something caught her attention.

"Fox, look at this," she commanded. She had flipped pages and
was checking one item on each page.

He sighed and walked over, sitting down next to her on the bed.
"What is it?" he asked, not really sure he wanted to know,
especially if it shot more holes in his working theory.

"Did you notice that all six of the victims have the same
occupation?" she asked, somewhat smugly.

He grabbed the file and flipped to the appropriate pages. "They
all worked as medical technicians in hospitals," he said, the wheels
turning in his mind as the pieces fell into place. "Dana, look at this,
each of them has only been in the Midwest for a year, just since
January and February of last year. And the previous addresses:
Syracuse, New York, Trenton, New Jersey. . .Washington, DC!"
He got up and reached over to the phone.

"Who are you calling?" she asked, although she had a sneaking
suspicion.

"Danny, who else? He still owes me from last April. We need
to find out where those people worked *before* they came out to
the prairie. But I have a real good idea where it was. And it only
serves to confirm my suspicions!" He wiggled his eyebrows and
smiled brightly at her. She shook her head in amused disgust.

He was able to get hold of Danny, even though it was already
past 9:00 in Washington, and asked to have the information faxed
to the St. Louis office first thing in the morning. He put the phone
back on the nightstand and sat back down on the bed.

"If I'm right, I want you on the next plane back to New
Mexico," he said, fussing with the pillow and laying back down to
stare at the ceiling.

"You and what army?" she grunted. "If it is the bounty hunter,
we BOTH take the first plane to New Mexico and leave this up to
the people who get paid to get shot at, not just provide good
theories!" she added, making her final point by stabbing her index
finger into his chest.

He caught her hand and held it, looking directly into her eyes.
"I'm not kidding this time, Dana. And I won't take no for an
answer. If the bounty hunter is trying to eliminate anyone with
knowledge of the Gregors, you are in danger. You know that.
You can identify him, in his usual manifestation. I want you as far
away from this investigation as you can get, and Albuquerque
seems just about far enough."

"Fox Mulder! Listen to yourself! YOU are in as much danger,
probably more so, than I am! You can identify him, too. You
know what his weakness is! You shot him, damn it! If I go home,
you go home. And I will not take no for an answer, either! Either
we stay together or we leave together, but there is no other
option!" She was staring at him with anger and hurt in her eyes.

He pushed himself up from the bed and towered above her.
"This is exactly why the Bureau does not want partners to be
involved sexually, Scully! Godddam it, I will not see you put in this
kind of danger! I told Skinner as much when he came to the house
that night! We have a baby to think about, Dana! Or have you
forgotten that! MY baby! I'm not going to let anything happen to
him, her, whatever," he sputtered angrily.

"Well, if this is YOUR baby, Fox Mulder, you can get up and go
to the bathroom ten times tonight! And you can jolly well carry it
around, sitting on your bladder, too! It is MY baby, too! And you
are her, his, whatever's FATHER! I have no intention of becoming
a single parent! You were there at the start of this life, you will be
there through the rest of it, if I have to hold a gun to your head the
entire time! So just quit this high horse shit right now!" She was
actually standing on the bed, and was still only just a little over half
a foot taller than him.

"I can't talk to you when you get like this! You won't listen to
reason!" he yelled, grabbing his coat and storming toward the door.

"Don't you dare walk out on me, Mulder! I will hunt you down
like a dog," she hissed, and he knew she meant every word of it.

"Better go get Angela's gun, then, because you don't have yours
with you," he growled over his shoulder and marched out into the
subfreezing cold. He slammed the door shut behind him and she
threw herself down on the bed and cried.

Frontage Road off I-270
10:58 pm

Mulder had no idea where he was. As usual, he had been too
mad to look around and place any landmarks as he walked. He had
his coat but it was pretty thin, and with no hat, his ears were just
about frozen. <Goddam Midwestern winters! Nothing to block the
wind from either the Rockies or the Arctic--just flat, barren land!
Why would anyone want to live here?> he cursed. He shoved his
hands down deeper into his pockets and heard the rip of the fabric
as it tore. <Shit! What else can go wrong?>

Bright lights, headlights, flashed in his eyes, blinding him for a
second. He was far enough off the road not to be in danger, but
this person seemed to be driving down the wrong lane, straight
toward him. <A drunk driver! Just what I need!> He was startled
when the driver swerved and came to a stop just a few feet in front
of him. With the glare of the headlights in his eyes, he couldn't see
who was driving. Suddenly the lights were turned off, but they
were still flash burned on his retinas and it took him some time
before he could see again.

"Mr. Mulder," the voice in the blackness crooned. "I would
have expected you in bed, with your wife, at this hour."

It took Mulder no time to recognize the voice. He had heard it
all too many times before. It was the venerable Mr. X.

"You're a long way from home, aren't you? Get lost? That
Columbia exit on the BW Parkway is a real bitch in the winter,"
Mulder quipped. He really didn't want to deal with cloak and
dagger stuff right now. He really didn't want to deal with it ever
again.

"By the looks of it, I would have to say that you are the one
who is lost, Mr. Mulder. And in danger of frostbite, or am I
mistaken?"

"I've been colder than this, I can assure you," Mulder said dryly.
"What do you want."

"Have you figured out who is doing these murders, yet? I mean,
it has been three days already," the dark man hissed.

"So, it was you who took old Black Lung's place. I thought so,"
Mulder said with a grim smile. The other man merely bowed,
slightly. "Yeah, I know who it is. Catching him will be another
matter, though, I'm afraid. See, he can disguise himself as anyone!
Why, for all I know, YOU could be HIM!"

"Don't worry, Mr. Mulder. I would cut my wrist so you could
see my red blood, but it's much too cold for that. I would just warn
you, however, don't let your guard down. You are right to be
concerned about your wife. Weak links are easily detected. As a
matter of fact, you shouldn't have let your anger drive you away,
tonight."

A very cold chill ran down Mulder's back at his words and it had
nothing to due with the weather. "What are you talking about!?"
Mulder demanded. "What do you know?"

"I know that the last time he was here, the alien did a very good
impression of you. Very believable, actually. Of course, your
partner, now your wife, was more wary then. She wasn't deceived.
This time, well, emotion tends to cloud our judgment, doesn't it? I
suggest you get back to your room, as fast as you can." He was
already in his car and speeding away before Mulder had a chance to
move.

Through some inner directional needle that Mulder had never
realized he possessed, he started running toward the motel. He
didn't notice the cold sleet that had started to come down, but it
caused him to slip and fall more than once. He thought about
flagging down a driver, or searching for a phone, but his feet
refused to stop running long enough for him to do either. He
cursed the fact that he had given his cell phone back to the Bureau
the day he resigned and that he had never thought it important
enough to replace it. And in the back of his mind, he kept chanting
a mantra, <Please be all right, Dana. Please be all right. . .>

He ran for what seemed like hours, but it was only 30 minutes
when he finally saw the motel sign above him. The wind and sleet
were coming down so hard that he could barely see, but he plowed
through to the side of the building their room was on. He slid to a
stop in front of their door and started pounding on it as hard as he
could. No answer! He swore loudly and fumbled in his pocket for
the key, coming up with only a hole. More swearing. Then, he
remembered that he had tucked the key in his pants pocket. Finally
he retrieved it triumphantly and shoved it in the lock, turning the
handle with enough force to jar the door open.

Inside, the room was empty. He called out, but no one
answered. He searched the area beside the bed, flung open the
bathroom door and searched behind the shower curtain. No one.
He forced himself to calm down and go over the room carefully.
Everything was in place. Dana's briefcase was sitting beside the
bed, the file folder tucked inside. The bed itself was slightly
mussed, but no more than they had done themselves, just sitting on
it. There were no broken objects, no sign of a struggle. <My God,
she went with him willingly! She thought he was me!> With that
realization he sat down on the edge of the bed and let his shoulders
shake until the tears fell.

"Fox Mulder, where the hell have you been!" Dana demanded
as she slammed the door behind her and towered over his shaking
body. He tried to gulp air, but he couldn't believe she was actually
there. He reached out with all his might and almost strangled her in
his embrace, burying his face in her stomach. "Fox, honey, what's
the matter? Are you OK?" she asked, holding him as tightly as she
could. Finally, she tried to break loose, he was hurting her with the
strength of his grasp.

"Oh God, Dana. . .I thought he had you . . .Mr. X said. . ." he
stammered as he tried to calm down and breath normally before he
passed out. He shook his head, let her go, a little, but still held her
hands. "God, I am so sorry! I will never do that again! I swear on
my Father's grave, Dana, I will never walk out on you again!"

Now that he had let her move, she had a chance to apprise his
condition. He was soaked to the skin, his ears were bright red and
it looked like the early signs of frostbite on them and his hands. He
was still shivering, but she had felt heat radiating from him while he
held her. "Here. Get out of these wet clothes," she commanded,
and then helped him pull off his overcoat and his shirt and tie. He
struggled with his pants for a moment, forgetting in his relief to pull
off his shoes and socks. She smiled a little at his predicament, and
then reached down and pulled the shoes off for him. Finally, she
pulled the cover down and made him lay back on the bed. "You are
a block of ice," she scolded.

She got up to get another blanket from the other double bed in
the room, but he wouldn't let go of her hand. "Don't go," he
pleaded.

"Fox, I'm just going to get you the other blanket. You were out
in that cold for over two hours. And it started to sleet. You've
probably made yourself sick, you know," she said, sounding like her
doctor persona. Finally, he let her go get the blanket, but only
because he had started to get the chills and he was shaking badly.
She tucked the blanket around him and went in the bathroom for a
glass of water. As if by magic, two aspirin appeared in her hand
and she handed them to him. He took them and finished off the
water before handing the glass back to her.

"Where were you?" he said weakly. "I got back and you were
gone."

" I got tired of waiting for you to come to your senses! I went
down to Brad's room to get the car keys. I was going to go out
looking for you and then I noticed the door to the room was
standing open. What the hell were you doing, staying out that long
on a night like this! It was the most pig-headed, stupid, blindly
ignorant,. . .did I say stupid?" she sputtered in her anger and
distress. It was obvious that she had been worried out of her mind,
as well. Her face was still puffy and her eyes red from what must
have been a long bout of tears.

"Guilty, as charged. Hang me, now, I'll die a happy man. Just
as long as you're safe," he sighed. The shaking started again and
with it a nasty cough.

"I knew it! You did make yourself sick! You'll probably get
pneumonia and end up in the hospital again. We have a different
insurance carrier now, Fox! I don't think they'll put up with you the
way the government did!" she chided. "What were you blubbering
about when I came in? Something about Mr. X?"

He was finally getting warm and the aspirin was helping stop the
triphammer in his head. His initial rush of adrenaline, and the 30
minute frantic run through the ice had sapped every ounce of
strength he had. He was started to drift off to sleep. "Mr. X. He
took Cancerman's place. He's the one who called for us," he said,
yawning widely.

She chewed on her lip as she digested that information. "Oh,
gosh, that makes me feel 'sooo' much better," she deadpanned.
"And who, exactly, did you think 'had me'? Mr. X?" she asked, still
trying to understand his earlier ravings.

"No, the bounty hunter. You're my weak link, Dana. . .Gotta. .
get. . .you. . .home. . ." he said softly as his eyes closed and he
slipped into sleep.

She brushed the hair off his forehead, as she had done countless
times before, and sighed deeply. "Oh, yeah, you're a much stronger
link than I am, Spooky," she said, shaking her head in disdain. She
leaned over and kissed him--he didn't make a move.

They both had a pretty rough night. Mulder's fever spiked
around 2:30 and Dana got very little sleep for the rest of the night,
trying unsuccessfully to keep him comfortable. He was obviously
dreaming of the bounty hunter, he kept talking to the alien, reliving
the fight on board the submarine 35 feet under the ice in the Arctic
Circle. It was the first time Dana had learned of the conversation
they had had then, and now she was only getting Mulder's side of it,
but it still caused her a great deal of worry.

When he finally settled down into a deeper sleep, it was almost
dawn. She tried to get a couple hours rest, but kept being disturbed
by nightmares of her own encounter with the alien. She would
close her eyes and see the alien, with Mulder's face, his body, at the
door to her motel room, lifting her up against the wall like a rag
doll and throwing her down on the table. Then, he would glare
down at her and his face would change right before her eyes into
the face of the alien, still a human face, but with little hint of
humanity in it's eyes. Then she would wake up, startled, before she
would try again to sleep.

It still seemed dark outside when Dana rolled over and realized
Fox was missing. For a fleeting moment she thought his returning
the night before had been a dream, then she saw his clothes lying on
the floor where they had left them when she finally got him into
bed. She woke up enough to hear the shower running. She turned
over to read the clock on the nightstand, it was 7:35 am.

Wearily, she crawled out from under the warm blankets, feeling
like she hadn't slept a wink. She knocked softly on the bathroom
door and then walked in, not really expecting him to answer, just
warning him of the opening door. Fox had just stepped out of the
shower and a cloud of steam surrounded him. He smiled down at
her, but she could tell his eyes were still too bright and he was very
pale.

"Get back in bed," she ordered. He stood there, blinked at her
and reached past her for a towel. Then he headed out into the other
room and searched through their luggage before finding their travel
kit and getting out his razor. He went over to the big mirror and
sink and proceeded to shave, ignoring her glares. "I said, get back
to bed!" she repeated, with more force.

"Dana, I really don't feel like playing search and seizure right
now. We have work to do," he quipped and continued to shave
himself.

She stood just inches from him and stared at him in the mirror.
"That is *not* what I meant, and you know it!" She reached
around his quickly moving hand and put her palm against his
forehead. "AHA! You still have a fever! Now, get back into bed!
That is an order!"

"I forgot to reenlist, Scully," he said, patting her on the head and
going over to the suitcase to pull out his clothes. "If you're coming
to breakfast, you better hurry. I told the kiddies to meet us at
8:00."

She sat down on the bed, getting more frustrated with him by
the second. "You are not going to work, today. You are sick," she
tried to reason with him. "Fox, you have a fever and if you try to
work, you'll only make it worse. You really WILL end up in the
hospital, the rate you are going! You had me up half the night with
your fever dreams!"

He turned and finally looked at her, for the first time. She really
did look like she had been up half the night. . .more than half,
actually. "You're right, you look terrible. You stay here and get
some sleep. We'll come pick you up at lunch time."

"ARRGH!" she screamed in total exasperation! "What in the
*world* did I do to deserve such an infuriating man in my life?!?"

"Don't know, but it must have been pretty neato-keen!" he
smiled and wiggled those eyebrows. "Oh, and don't let me in, not
unless I have LaMont and Morphew with me. For that matter,
don't let anybody in. I'll get Morphew to leave her weapon, she can
grab a spare at the office. You still carry your permit, right?" She
nodded, in disgust. He leaned over and kissed her on the top of her
head. "Calm down, Red. I'm fine. We're interviewing people this
morning and I have to get that fax Danny's sending. I promise, if I
feel bad at lunch, I'll stay behind and go to bed like a good little
patient. Scouts Honor!"

He was back in half an hour, with Morphew and LaMont in tow.
He had a blueberry muffin and a large cup of tea and was struggling
to juggle both and find his keys when Dana opened the door and
stepped out. She had showered and dressed and was looking pretty
good, but he suspected that had a lot to do with her skill with make
up and not the amount of rest she had gotten. He gave her a
disapproving look as she took the muffin and tea from him.

"Dana," he growled, about to embark on a rampage.

"Don't start with me, Spooky, or this tea will be down your
pants. We have a child on the way, I don't need you to procreate
right now!" she hissed in his ear. He blushed bright red, but went
no further in his tirade. He did, however, take the opportunity to
mumble to himself all the way to the car, occasionally letting his
voice rise loud enough for her to hear him disparaging the female
sex and her specifically.

Federal Building
Downtown St. Louis, MO
Janaury 10, 1995
9:00 am

As soon as they got to the office, they split up, Morphew and
LaMont taking the car and going out to interview the roommate of
one of the victims and Scully and Mulder staying at the office to
wait for the fax from DC.

Jeff had given them a conference room to use and they had
already acquired their own fax machine, a computer and printer and
a clerical worker who insisted that she do all the running around to
get them what they needed.

"I've heard of Midwestern Hospitality, but isn't this getting
carried a little too far," Mulder whispered to Scully as a pile of
donuts and bagels magically appeared with a fresh pot of coffee.

"I meant to tell you about it yesterday. Wait a few minutes and
the 'fans' will start arriving," she whispered back, trying to look
busy with her own lab reports, but watching the door, as well.

"Fans?" he asked, and there was a knock on the door. Two
agents, probably in their late twenties, stood looking slightly
embarrassed. "Can we help you?" Mulder asked, polite, but
confused.

"I'm Agent Gallagher and this is my partner, Agent Scoggins.
We, ah, we just wanted to say that it's really an honor to have you
here in St. Louis with us, Dr. Mulder. If you need anything, back
up, whatever, just ask for us." The two men smiled, shook his hand
firmly, and left.

"And I thought DC felt like The Twilight Zone!" Mulder
breathed. "Dana, what was that all about?" he demanded.

"Apparently, we are heroes, at least we are once you get out of
the Washington Beltway. I don't know all the details, but an agent
came in yesterday while I was doing the autopsies and asked for my
autograph! I meant to tell you about it, but we spent the night
arguing."

"Jeff probably put them up to it," he said, brushing aside the
mention of the night before.

"I don't know, Fox. I think we have a fan club. Hey, just enjoy
it, huh?" she smiled. The fax machine rang and she pulled the pages
off one by one.

"Danny?" Mulder asked, between bites of jelly donut.

"Of course," she said handing him the sheets as she finished
reading them. "Oh, and he put a note on the last page. He thinks
Daniel or Danielle are perfect names for the baby."

Mulder rolled his eyes as he took the pages. Then, he smiled as
he read. "Gee whiz! Look at this! Every one of the victims used
to work at one of the abortion clinics where the Gregors worked!

"It _could_ be a coincidence," Dana pointed out, then added, "I
know, I know! It's a pretty _wild_ coincidence!" She sat down on
one of the conference room chairs and found it surprisingly
comfortable. "This doesn't make me feel any better, you know."

His initial rush at being proved right subsided as the realization
of the facts hit him. "Believe it or not, me either," he sighed. "But
now, we have to stop him, somehow."

"How? Get the list of employees from all those clinics and put
armed guards around them? Mulder, this guy can pass as anyone!
And there were five clinics. There must have been over a hundred
people working at all of them!" she shook her head in frustration.

"So how come only 6 have turned up dead, Scully?" he asked,
deep in thought. "You're right, there are plenty of people who are
potential targets. But so far, all of the deaths have occurred in the
Midwest, all within a relatively small area, actually. What's the
connection? There had to be something else we're missing." He
jumped up and pulled out the ever growing file, going through it to
extract the pages on the victims. Looking up, he scratched his
head. "Did I see employee lists from the clinics in those pages from
Danny," he asked.

Dana had been rereading the fax. "Yes, I was just marking the
victims names and the Gregors aliases. Mulder," she stopped for a
minute and stared at the page in her hand. "All the victims were lab
assistants for the Gregors!" She flipped the pages as quickly as she
could, finally circling some names. "These are the only ones left!
These three people are the only ones who were lab assistants to the
Gregors that have not been murdered!" She handed the pages over
to Mulder for him to look at the names.

"From the looks of it, I think we've found our next victims,
unless we can get there first! I'm calling Danny, have him dig up
the addresses on those last three and notify the local Bureaus to put
surveillance on them," Mulder said, reaching for the phone.

"He'll expect us to name the baby after him, you know," Dana
teased.

"So? I think Daniel is a great middle name. Samuel Daniel
Mulder! It rings!" he deadpanned as she mimed sticking her finger
down her throat and he tried not to laugh. "Hey, we could call him
Sam Dan!" he said, punching numbers on the phone. By this time
she was reduced to giggle fits.

"You better start praying for a girl, Cave man," she gasped as
she tried to catch her breath, then broke out in more giggles. "Sam
Dan, indeed!"

By lunch time, Danny had faxed the addresses of the three
remaining lab assistants. One was in Trenton, New Jersey, where
she worked for a nursing home, one was in Syracuse, New York,
working at a health clinic and the last was in Baltimore, Maryland,
where he was employed by the same abortion clinic that had been
burned to the ground, but rebuilt in a different location.

Brad and Angela arrived at the office, after spending the
morning with Stacy Freeman, the roommate of one of the victims.

"Did you find anything out?" Mulder asked, as they came in the
door. Over breakfast, he and Brad had revised the list of questions,
but Mulder had not told the younger agent why at the time.

"Yeah, and it's funny. You asked me to find out if anyone had
been by to see Gina before she disappeared. Apparently, an old
boyfriend of hers showed up the night she was murdered. She
hadn't seen him for some time. Stacy said they talked for a while
and then she had to leave to go to work. The police originally
thought he was the killer, but it turned out the guy had an airtight
alibi. He's in the National Guard and he was at the Armory all
weekend. Over 100 other guardsmen and several regular Army can
vouch for him. He was questioned, but said he hadn't seen Gina
since they broke up. What do you make of it?" Brad asked, looking
up from his notes to see Mulder and Scully both nodding to each
other.

"I think it's time we had a little heart to heart talk," Mulder said
slowly, "Brad, Angela, get comfortable. Dana, sweets, get Ms. Bell
to sent out for sandwiches." And then he proceeded to tell them
the unabridged version of the Gregors, the Alien Bounty Hunter
and the suspected connection to the recent murders. The talk
lasted better than an hour. He was just finishing up when the phone
rang. Dana got up and answered it.

"Fox," she interrupted. He looked over, curious. "It's Skinner.
He wants to talk to you," she said quietly, handing him the phone.

It was hard to determine the entire conversation, but from
Mulder's responses and the looks on his face, it was not a pleasant
experience! He repeated much of what he had just explained to
Angela and Brad, trying several times to explain his theory on the
murders, but getting interrupted by the man on the other end of the
line. The frustration was growing on his face and in his voice, but
to Dana's amazement, he was remaining in complete control of
himself. <My little boy is growing up,> she smiled inwardly.
Finally, the conversation seemed to be drawing to a close.

"Well, 'sir', I suggest, and admittedly you can take my advice or
leave it, that you confer with the 'new' inhabitant of you office and
see if he doesn't feel the way I do. . .Yes, I do know who it is. .
Yes, I know you are probably no happier than you were with the
last person. Truth told, I don't know that I am either, but we're
stuck on this one, aren't we, sir. . .Thank you sir, I appreciate that .
.Yes, we'll be heading out this afternoon. We'll check in when we
arrive." He hung up the phone.

Dana's mouth was gapping open. "Somebody pinch me, I must
be dreaming! Did I just hear Fox Mulder actually *thank* Walter
Skinner--for anything?!"

"He agreed to get surveillance on those two women and one
man. I had to throw him some kind of bone," Mulder said, starting
to stuff files in his briefcase.

"Well, I think having to go back and reread all those psychology
texts might have improved your clinical skills, Dr. Mulder," she
teased. Even though both Brad and Angela were still in the room,
she leaned over and kissed him. "And I am very proud of you," she
added.

This time, the partners sat together. Brad and Angela were still
trying to understand half of what Mulder had told them about the
Bounty Hunter, but Brad was beginning to come around to the
idea. Having the Assistant Director agree to keep watch over
Mulder's list of potential victims had a lot to do with his new
acceptance. Angela was still shaking her head with disbelief and it
took the better part of the flight back for Brad to get her to
understand why they were leaving St. Louis, where a murder had
already occurred, to go to Baltimore, where one hadn't.

Once on the plane, the cold Mulder had come down with the
night before caught up with him again. His head was stuffed and he
had a blinding headache. Dana forced some aspirin down him,
wishing she had carried some decongestant in her purse. He fell
asleep shortly after take off. She had really wanted to talk to him,
but her own exhaustion crept up on her and soon, they were both
sound asleep, her head on his shoulder, his head leaning on hers.

When they touched down at National, Skinner was waiting for
them at the gate. Morphew and LaMont were a little taken back by
the appearance of the Assistant Director, but Mulder and even
Scully seemed to take it in stride. The AD directed the two
younger agents toward the baggage claim area, while he lagged
behind with the consultants.

"I take it you've had a chat with our mutual friend?" Mulder
asked when he was sure the kiddies were out of earshot.

"He said to give you his regards," Skinner said coldly, "and he
asked me to tell you to remember to wear a hat and gloves next
time you're wandering Missouri in January."

"Always good advice," Mulder said nodding. "So, what does he
think of my theory?"

"He seems interested. He convinced me it was not a waste of
Bureau resources to protect these three people. Unfortunately, in
the case of Michelle Alexander, we may have been too late. She
didn't come home last night and she didn't show up at her job this
morning. The Syracuse Bureau is working with the local police to
find her." His face was set in a grim expression.

"Alexander was in New York. What about Jennifer Howell, in
New Jersey and Cliff Lidster in Baltimore?" Mulder asked, trying to
keep the knot in his throat from sounding in his voice. If Alexander
was missing, he was certain what had happened to her. That meant
two things: his theory was correct, and the killer was still one jump
ahead of them.

"Howell is in a safe house in New Jersey. Apparently, the 9
people were still in contact with each other, or had been until the
murders. She was pretty scared when the agents arrived at her
door to question her. She asked for our protection. As for Lidster,
he's been moved to DC and is waiting for you. Mulder, I know I
gave you a hard time about your 'theory'. . ."

"No need to apologize, sir," Mulder interrupted.

"I wasn't going to apologize, Mulder! But I was going to say
something I've wanted to say for a long time. It was not my
decision to get rid of you two, I hope you know that. It seems like
my job has come down to taking the X files away from you one
minute and giving them back the next. Quite frankly, I thought I
had better things to do with my career! Anyway, our dark
acquaintance seems to think your reinstatement is a matter of
national security. I came to the conclusion that it would at least
save the Bureau some money if you were on the payroll again. Of
course, our insurance carrier may have other thoughts on the
matter. What I am trying to say is, the Bureau would like to
reinstate you, both of you. Don't say anything right now, take some
time to think about it. I know your lives are very different now,
and you may not want your old lives back. There are a lot of
details to work out, like your marriage, the baby, hell, everything I
can think of needs to be worked out. But I want you to consider
it."

Dana looked up at her husband expectantly. He refused to meet
her gaze, said nothing and kept walking. <This is going to be
harder than I thought, and that was hard enough!> she sighed.

Cliff Lidster was a chain smoker and very nervous. He knew
full well what had happened to his associates, including the doctor
he had worked with and he didn't want to end up the same way.
Mulder sat across the table from him, with Skinner, Scully,
Morphew and LaMont hidden behind a mirrored glass window on
one wall of the interrogation room.

"Mr. Lidster, do you recognize this man," Mulder asked calmly,
shoving a picture of the doctor Mulder knew was a Gregor across
the table for him to pick up. The nervous man looked down at the
picture, closed his eyes in a grimace and nodded. "OK, how about
any of these people? Do you recognize any of these people?" This
time, 6 photos crossed the table, one at a time. Lidster
acknowledged them each in the same way, a grimace of recognition
and a nod. "How about this man?" Mulder asked, putting a
composite picture drawn from his and Scully's descriptions of the
Alien Bounty Hunter on the table. This time, Lidster stared hard at
the picture, picking it up and holding it at a different angle to get a
better look.

"I don't know him, but I think I might have seen him. A few
nights ago, someone who looked like this was outside the clinic.
He was just walking by, not picketing or anything. I didn't really
think that much about it, it was before I had heard of the others. . ."
his voice trailed off and his hand shook as he dropped the sketch on
the table top.

"Mr. Lidster, I think we need to put you under protective
custody. You'll be taken to a safe house, an agent will be with you
at all times. We are fairly certain that the man you see in that
sketch is responsible for the murders of 6 of your former associates
and several others, including the good doctor. Can you tell me
what you were working on while you assisted the doctor?" Mulder
looked at him, not accusingly. He was hoping he would gain his
trust.

"They were . . .experiments. Genetics experiments. He said his
research was connected with the University, but I couldn't figure
out why he didn't have a lab there. I really wasn't involved in the
actual work, I just assisted in the blood work, ran some tests. It
was pretty routine, and I did it on the side, in addition to my other
work at the clinic. I had no idea it would lead to. . ." he shot a
glance over to the photos of the murder victims.

"Don't worry, Mr. Lidster. The killing stops now. We have a
safe house to take you to. I understand you have your belongings
with you?" Mulder asked. Lidster nodded and pointed to a duffle
bag by the door. "Then I'll take you to meet the agent who will be
staying with you." He rose to leave but Lidster caught his arm.

"Aren't you going to guard me?" he asked, taking another drag
on his cigarette.

"No, Mr. Lidster. I'm not an agent anymore, I only consult with
the FBI, I don't really work here. Believe me, Mr. Lidster, you will
be perfectly safe with the agent assigned to you. And I promise, we
will find the murderer. We are very close, right now. Come on,
Agent Biggs is waiting just down the hall to meet you." Mulder
gave the man a reassuring smile and opened the door, motioning for
him to lead the way. Lidster stood up slowly and started for the
door, then quick as a wink, he grabbed Mulder by the neck and
pulled out the ice pick like tool that the alien bounty hunter had
used on the Gregors.

"I should have finished the job in Alaska," Lidster hissed in
Mulder's ear. Mulder twisted, trying to look Lidster in the face.
He couldn't see him straight on, but the face was already changing
into the face of the Bounty Hunter.

Behind the glass window, Dana was reaching back on the waist
band of her pantsuit, grabbing for a gun that wasn't there.
Morphew and LaMont were too stunned to move for a moment, so
Skinner grabbed LaMont's weapon and aimed to fire. Coming to
her senses, Scully stopped his arm. "Too many people! His blood
is toxic! If you don't hit him at the base of the neck, he won't be
phased, but everyone near him will be dead--including Fox! We
have to get behind him, without his knowledge. It's the only way to
stop him."

The Bounty Hunter had released Mulder's neck, but still had his
hands in a tight grip behind him. The alien's strength was never in
question, and Mulder knew that any resistance would be futile. His
major concern at the moment was getting the alien out of the
building. If anyone shot him, whole rooms full of people would be
dead in a matter of minutes. Outside, in the cold Washington air,
("DC temperature is 15 degrees, winds out of the northeast at 10
mph, with a chance of snow by evening", the radio had said), then,
he had a chance.

Skinner ran down the hallway, grabbing the first phone he could
find and barking orders into it. Scully, with Morphew and LaMont
on her heels, ran for the elevators, knowing that Mulder and the
Hunter were probably headed in that direction. The hall was fairly
deserted, the interrogation rooms were all together on one floor
and none of the other rooms were in use at the time. They met no
one on their way.

The elevators were inbetween hallways. Mulder and the Hunter
were in the north hallway, Scully, Morphew and LaMont in the
hallway on the south side of the building. Scully skidded to a stop
just at the corner before the elevators. Angela and Brad smacked
right into her, but she didn't fall. She pressed herself against the
wall and peered around the corner, carefully. The Hunter had
Mulder with his arms behind his back. Angela pushed her gun into
Scully's hand, but from the angle Scully was at, the only shot she
could make was frontal, probably through her husband. <This is
not what I thought consulting would be like!> she cursed. <Maybe
this is NOT the life I want to go back to!> Then, before her next
breath, the elevator doors opened and the Hunter shoved Mulder
inside, with the doors closing behind them.

<Shitshitshitshitshit!> Scully cursed silently as she pulled open
the fire escape and took the stairs down two at a time. She slipped
once, and almost fell, but Angela was so close on her heels that she
caught her and set her right again. They made it to the parking
level in record time, but still behind the elevator. It was empty,
with the door locked in the open position.

Mulder and the Hunter got to the parking garage, which was
deserted <and cold> Mulder noted. The Hunter hadn't loosened his
grip on Mulder's wrists and had jerked him sufficiently while
guiding him out of the elevator that Mulder's shoulder was
screaming. <Teaching is looking an awful lot better> was the only
outside thought Mulder would allow himself. The rest of his
concentration was trained on how he was going to get the ice pick
away from the Hunter and stab the base of his neck before anyone
else got hurt.

"Where's your car?" the Hunter demanded, pulling up on
Mulder's wrist so that his shoulders were pulled out of socket and
he groaned with pain.

"Sorry, can't help you," Mulder said through clenched teeth. "I
don't work here anymore. And I don't have a car here, either." The
Hunter pulled up harder, just to show Mulder that was *not* an
acceptable answer. "There's always the Metro," Mulder gasped
again, then regretted the joke. Getting on the Subway was not a
good plan and he should have kept his mouth shut.

The Hunter pushed him forward, toward the ramp and out on to
the Street. <It's about 4:00>, Mulder thought. <Please, God, let
traffic be light.> By some small miracle, there were no other cars
on the street, not even a taxi. Snow had started falling softly and
the sidewalks were covered. <That explains the absence of taxis>,
Mulder thought grimly to himself. The slick surface of the sidewalk
gave him an idea and he started working the details out in his mind
as they walked toward the Metro station, some three blocks away.

The parking garage was empty when Scully started searching.
She almost screamed in frustration, then Brad looked at the ramp
and noticed two sets of footsteps in the light spattering of snow,
heading toward the street. "Dr. Scully, I think they went that way,"
he said excitedly, pointing toward the ramp.

"Of course, the alien doesn't have a car and Mulder doesn't have
keys. They must be heading for a cab," Scully answered and
headed off in the same direction.

"Or the Metro station," Angela suggested.

"Oh God, I hope not!" Scully yelled back over her shoulder as
she ran up the ramp and onto the street. Behind her, Scully heard
Brad talking on his cell phone, presumably to Skinner. Then, she
heard the sound that made her heart jump up into her throat and
sink all the way down to her stomach. Sirens. A lot of sirens.
Headed their way. <Shitshitshitshitshit> she cursed again. Was the
whole damn day going to be this screwed up? She ran faster up the
ramp, glancing down every so often to check and see that the
footprints were still going in her direction.

Once on the street, Scully skidded to a stop. About a block and
a half away, she saw the two tall figures, one in a blue jeans jacket
and one in a gray suit, making their way toward the Metro station.
She surveyed the surroundings, there were very few people out on
the sidewalk. It was cold, the wind was blowing and the snow was
falling pretty heavy now. <Finally! Something in OUR favor!> she
sighed. She ran to the end of the block, now putting half the
distance between herself and the Hunter. She stood stock still,
raised her gun, aimed until the back of the Hunters head was the
only sight in her eyes and fired.

Mulder heard the sirens and knew he had to do something fast.
With a crowd, it would be even harder to get any kind of move on
the Hunter. If he was going to do something, he had better get it
done. He was taking a deep breath, ignoring the pain in his
shoulder, when he felt the impact! It pushed them both to the
ground. The Hunter landed on top of him, green frothy liquid
running down Mulder's neck and back. It burned, and Mulder's
eyes burned and his mouth and his nose. <Damn it, not again,> was
the last thought on his mind as he blacked out.

Georgetown University Medical Center
Washington, DC
January 11, 1996 5:30 pm

Mulder's first conscious thought was that it hurt to breathe.
Gummy, like his lungs were filled with cotton and glue. He didn't
open his eyes, they hurt. His shoulder hurt. Breathing in air hurt
his nose and down his throat. His next conscious thought was
<Why aren't they giving me the really good drugs?! The ones that
make you not hurt!>

He would have stayed that way indefinitely, eyes closed,
breathing in little shallow breaths so the air going in didn't rub
against the sores in his nose and mouth, but he heard her voice.
Dana. His wife. She was whispering, something about IV's and
antibiotics. The voice that was answering sounded familiar. Not
welcome, just familiar. It took him a minute to place it. It was
Skinner! Mulder heard the door open and then click shut. Good
grief, he must be in trouble if Skinner was in his hospital room.
Curiosity finally got the better of him and he slowly opened his
eyes.

"Dana," he wheezed. <Boy, that sounded pitiful!> he thought.

It took her an instant and she was at his side, holding his hand,
smiling that great killer smile at him that made him want to grab
and pull her under the covers and have his way with her right then
and there. <Not much chance of that,> his mind grumbled. <With
a voice like that, other parts probably aren't up to par, either!>

"Hey, sweetheart! How are you feeling?" Dana asked. One
day, he was going to politely point out that every time she asked
that particular question, he had felt like shit and she should have
guessed that or he wouldn't have been in the hospital. This,
however, was not the day.

"What month is it?" he asked, deciding he wasn't even up to a
really witty comeback right then.

"It's January," she laughed softly. "What did you think?"

"But the alien's blood. . .the retrovirus. . .I figured I had been
out a month. . .like last time," he gasped. Talking was definitely
not a fun activity. The more he did it, the harder it got.

"Well, Cave man, it appears that you have antibodies to the
virus now. There were no ill effects, apart from the caustic nature
of the green goo. You were burned pretty badly on your neck and
the fumes got your eyes and in your nose. Some ointment took
care of most of that," she said as she brushed hair off his forehead.

"Then why do I feel. . .this bad," he barely got the words out
before he started into a coughing fit that reduced him to tears.

"You have a serious case of bronchitis, my love! It was well on
it's way to pneumonia. The paramedics were going to treat your
burns at the scene, but you were out of it and your fever was 103.
They decided to bring you in. You are on some heavy duty
antibiotics for a few days, till your lungs clear up." She had that
look on her face. The one that said, "I won't do it now, while your
sick, but the minute you are feeling better I am going to say I told
you so, so be prepared!"

"So what. . .happened to. . .the alien ?" he managed to get out
without coughing.

"Seems I found the really fool-proof method of eliminating him."
She waited for him to shoot her a "hurry up and tell me now" look.
"I blew his head off. Base of the neck my butt! He didn't have a
neck left, or an ear, or a face, or a. . ."

"I get the picture,. . . my little blood thirsty one," he wheezed.
He leaned back and closed his eyes for a second. Ten minutes later,
he opened them again. "So what. . .about his ship?"

"They located a big crater, in northeast Nebraska. He probably
had it set to self-destruct," she reasoned.

"Or Project Falcon. . .got there. . .first," he gasped back with a
sullen expression.

"Fox, it doesn't matter!" she said firmly. "All that matters is that
he is dead and gone. He won't be back."

"What about. . . Lidster,. . . Howell, . . . and Alexander?"

Dana looked at the floor. "Their bodies were found. They were
dead, but not mutilated like the others. He probably didn't have
time to do the messy stuff. He may have been gathering samples, I
don't know. He might have just been trying to cover his tracks. I
mean, 6 people with thickened blood and no other signs of assault
might raise questions. Six people mutilated, points to a nice,
normal, human serial killer. If you and I hadn't been called in, he
probably would have gotten away with it." She could tell he was
getting tired. "Look, you need some rest. Mom is coming up later,
you'll want to at least try to look like you aren't death warmed over
for her. You go to sleep, we'll talk later." She leaned up and kissed
him. He fell asleep almost immediately.

Georgetown University Medical Center
January 14, 1996 4:30 pm

Mulder was dressed and waiting, watching the door. He had
noticed that he had actually been in a room in the hospital that he
had never been in before. <What are the odds on that?> he
wondered. While he was pondering the statistical nature of the
universe and hospital policy, his wife came through the door.

"You're sprung. Hop in," she motioned to the wheelchair. He
stared at it in disgust, but knew he would only lose the battle. He
had fought it thousands of times, and he _always_ lost. With great
displeasure, he settled into the offending vehicle and she pushed
him through the door.

They didn't really talk until they reached the car. "Where to?"
he asked.

"Mom's for the night. I don't want to travel with you before I
know you're really doing better. We can fly out tomorrow. You'll
still be back at school before the 17th." She was not looking at
him, only the road, but he could tell she wanted to say something
and she wasn't.

"So, you didn't tell me how the meeting went with Skinner
yesterday," he said, trying to draw her out. Her mom had come up
the night before, and so had her sister Melissa and by the time they
were alone, they were both too tired to talk.

"It went well," she said, noncommittally. "He, ah, he made the
offer of reinstatement again." She looked over at her husband to
gauge his reaction. His expression was unreadable, so she
continued.

"Apparently, he had given it more thought. The Bureau policy
still stands: partners can't get involved. If we came back, I'd be
assigned to pathology. Of course, you could still request my
assistance on any case. He suggested that maybe you could use a
little more help on the X Files, though."

"More help. Like who?" he asked.

"Morphew and LaMont have requested transfers to the
division. Anyway, you would be the Supervisor, just as you are
now. And, of course, the 'external powers' have changed hands,
too." She got quiet again.

"Do you honestly think I can trust Mr. X more than
Cancerman?" he demanded, then softened his tone. "It sounds like
a good trade, but it would probably end up being more of the
same!"

"On the up side," she said, changing directions, "we would be
closer to Mom. She would love to have us back home, especially
with the baby."

"Or we could talk her into moving to New Mexico. The winters
are getting kind of hard on her, and with Bill, Jr. in Seattle now, she
really has no reason to stay back here," he said quietly.

"You really don't want to come back, do you?" she asked.

"It all sounds fine, but that's just promises, right now. I'm not
entirely convinced that Skinner will continue to back us up, that
you'll be allowed the time to work with me, that Mr. X will really
be on our side, and that the powers that be won't blow in a different
direction in six months time," he said as he ticked the issues off on
his fingers.

"You're right, I guess," she said, nodding.

He was quiet for the rest of the ride. She could see him turning
it over in his mind. She had already made up her own mind: what
ever he decided, she would do. Sure, it was a cop out, but as long
as they were together, she was happy. She just hoped he made the
right decision for himself.

He still hadn't said anything more when they pulled up to her
mother's house. "Where's Mom's car?" he asked, looking at the
empty spot in the driveway.

"She said she had a movie date with a friend of hers tonight and
that she'd be gone all evening. I think it was an excuse to give us
the house to ourselves," she said smiling suggestively.

He leaned over and pulled her into a kiss. The kind of kiss he
usually reserved for their bedroom. She finally pulled away for lack
of oxygen. "So? What do we tell Skinner? He's expecting an
answer," she said.

"I say, let's sleep on it," he smiled, wiggled his eyebrows and for
some reason, she knew the rule about keeping his distance in her
mother's house was going to have an exception for one night.

The end.

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