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Connected
by Lovesfox
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lovesfox@rogers.com

Headers in Part 1

***
Part 3 of 12

Unknown Location
Monday 4:30 PM


Over an hour had passed since their impromptu stop due 
to her misstep, and Scully was ready for another break.  

She had not lied to Mulder; her injury *was* only a 
turned ankle, but it throbbed painfully each time she 
put weight on it.  And then there were her newly formed 
blisters, on the heels of both feet.

Thinking about the blisters had her recalling their little 
exchange about whether or not she had told him about them.  
She frowned -- she *knew* she had not said a word, mumbled 
or otherwise.  

And Mulder, the stubborn goat that he was, had to argue 
about it.

Ahead of her, Mulder stumbled suddenly, muttering an epithet.  
He waited until she was abreast of him, and then turned to 
look at her, gritting, "I am not a stubborn goat!"

What the hell?

Scully blinked, and nearly stumbled herself.  My God, had 
she said that out loud?  

"Well?" he demanded, his hands now on his hips.  He was 
glowering at her, tension in every line of his body.

"Mulder, I--"  she began, and stopped.  She didn't know what 
to say.  It was entirely possible she had said it out loud.  
Sighing, she made her apology.  "I'm sorry, Mulder.  I'm 
tired and hungry, my ankle hurts, and my head..." her voice 
trailed off momentarily as she tried to find the words to 
describe how she felt.  Finally she went with, "My head feels 
funny.  But I shouldn't have taken it out on you."

Some of the tension eased from him, and his glare disappeared.  
His brow was wrinkled though, and he looked distracted and 
contemplative.  Inwardly focused.  "No problem, Scully," he 
said after several long seconds.  "We ready to go on?"

Feeling uncomfortable despite his acceptance of her apology, 
she nodded and started onward again, instead of suggesting 
a break.

Conversation was minimal -- limited to pointing out possible 
pitfalls along their path and the odd comment about the other's 
welfare.

As the afternoon shadows grew longer, and her blisters passed 
into the near-excruciating stage, Scully found herself recalling 
the two strange incidents between Mulder and herself.  Him 
insisting she had said something when she was sure she hadn't, 
and then not long after, it again seemed as if she had spoken 
when she thought she hadn't.  Almost as if Mulder had--

"Read your mind?"  Mulder's voice, repeating her thoughts.  
Out loud.

This time she did stumble, arms pin-wheeling before she fell
on her rear end with an undignified grunt.

Mulder hurried to her, kneeling in the dusty, rocky excuse 
for a road, concern written all over his features.  "Scully?  
You all right?"

She smiled ruefully at him, knowing her cheeks were pink with 
embarrassment.  "I'm fine," she told him.  "I'm not too sure 
about my pride, though."

Smiling back at her briefly, Mulder sank back until he too 
was sitting on his hind quarters, long legs sprawling.  Cocking 
his head, he eyed her speculatively.  

Her stomach twisted in a knot.  She had a bad feeling about 
what he was going to say.

"I heard you, Scully.  Clear as day."

Shaking her head rather emphatically, she protested, "Mulder, 
I didn't--"

"Say it out loud," he finished for her.  "I know, Scully.  But 
you thought it."

Could she call them or what?  Her stomach twisted again.  
"Mulder--"

Again he interrupted her, repeating his first statement, with 
emphasis on one word.  "I *heard* you, Scully."  Bringing one 
hand up, he tapped his temple.  "In my head," he clarified.

He was not suggesting what she thought he was suggesting.  He
couldn't be.

"My head feels funny, too," Mulder stated.  "Not a headache, 
but something else.  Like a buzzing.  I first noticed it when 
we were trapped in that storage room.  I thought it was a 
side-effect of the gas."

Scully frowned.  That's exactly how her head felt.  Like it 
was buzzing.  His words clicked then.  "You don't think that 
anymore?"

"No.  I think it has something to do with whatever Kushov 
injected into us."

"Mind control."  She stated it flatly.

"Mind *reading*," he corrected, excitement coloring his 
tones, his facial features.  His body language screamed it. 
"Telepathy."

"Mulder--"

"No, no.  Hear me out, Scully.  Psychic phenomenon have 
been reported for millennia.  You and I have certainly seen 
evidence of clairvoyance and precognition in our years on 
the X-Files.  Even mind control, Scully.  Remember Robert 
Modell and Linda Bowman?"

"How could I forget?" she said lowly.  She still had the 
rare dream about one or the other.  Sometimes Mulder shot 
her, sometimes he shot himself.  Pushing those dark thoughts 
away, she rallied her argument.

"Mulder, Robert Modell was an anomaly.  His tumor--"

Mulder stood abruptly, halting her in mid-sentence.  His 
frustration with her was clear.  Scrubbing a hand through 
his hair, he stalked several feet away, his back to her.

Scully eyed him for a moment, and then slowly got to her 
feet, testing her ankle carefully.  Sore, but holding 
steady.  It was as she was brushing her pants off that 
Mulder spun around suddenly.

He spoke only two words.  A name.

"Gibson Praise."

Tension sang in her body, and she had to fight not to 
grimace in reaction.  Thinking of the unknown fate of the 
young boy was a bitter blow, and always brought up memories 
of Diana Fowley.  Unpleasant memories.

God, she'd never liked that bitch.  

"Scully?" Mulder asked, a deep frown on his face.  His 
shock was clear.  Taking a few steps towards her, he 
continued, "I never knew...I never realized you felt that 
strongly about Diana."

Scully looked at him in disbelief.  He hadn't known?  
Had he been so blinded by all that Diana Fowley had once 
been to him that he hadn't seen his partner's pain?  Then 
again, he hadn't seen Fowley's duplicitous nature either.

"I guess I didn't realize a lot of things," he said then, 
echoing her thoughts.

She looked away from the intensity of his gaze, staring 
down at her feet for a moment as she composed herself.
"It's in the past now, Mulder," she said quietly, meeting 
his gaze once again.  Hoping he would let the matter drop.

He did, but brought up another confusing time, one not so 
far in the past.  His own experience with the alien 
artifact rubbings.

Scully tensed anew, unsure of how to respond.  She did
not want to get into a discussion about all that time had 
engendered -- her trip to the Ivory Coast, Mulder's stay 
in a neuropsych ward, the interference again of Diana 
Fowley -- and held her tongue.  Looking away from the 
intensity of his eyes yet again, she studied the terrain 
instead.

Mulder made a sound she interpreted to be borne of 
frustration and then sighed harshly.  She chanced a glance 
at him, and saw that he was pinching the bridge of his nose, 
his head tilted so that he was looking skyward.
 
After a very long moment, he straightened and met her gaze 
again, appearing calmer.  His mercurial moods had always 
amazed her.  

"We need to test this out, Scully," he said.

"Excuse me?"

***

Mulder held back the laughter that threatened to erupt. 
Scully's lips were pursed mutinously and she wore her
skepticism like a suit of armor.

Now perched on another convenient boulder, she was eying
him balefully.  He was across from her, straddling a log 
he had dragged over, with no more than a foot between 
them.

She had adamantly vetoed the idea that they sit cross-
legged on the ground facing each other, knees touching.

"Relax, Scully," he told her.  "You're stiffer than a 
board."  Actually, she looked like she was about to face 
a firing squad.

The look she shot him was not pretty.

But this time he did laugh, surprisingly coaxing a tiny
smile from her in the process.

"I'll try," she said, and semi-theatrically took a deep 
breath, straightening up as she inhaled and slumping as 
she exhaled.

"Okay," he began in a carefully modulated voice.  "Close
your eyes, breathe slowly and deeply, and try to empty 
your mind."

Scully snorted softly, her eyebrow arching briefly, but
complied with his instructions, eyes slipping shut.  Her 
chest rose and fell in a slow, steady rhythm.

Even with her eyes closed she looked skeptical.

Closing his own eyes, Mulder adjusted his breathing rate 
to match hers.  He was aware of so many things -- the
faint chirping of birds in the distance, the rustle of
dead leaves stirred by the slight wind that had arisen
in the last hour, the feel of the late afternoon sun
on his cheeks.

But most of all, he was aware of Scully.

Long moments passed by, and nothing happened.  Finally,
a clearly irritated Scully remarked, "Mulder, this is 
not going to work."

"Not with your negativity, no it won't!" he snapped back, 
and then sucked in a sharp breath in regret.  "Sorry," he 
said more quietly, opening his eyes to see her regarding 
him impassively, her lips tightly pursed.  

"Look, just...give it another shot, okay?  Close your eyes 
and breathe slowly."

Without waiting to see if she would or not, he shut his
own eyes again and did as he had preached.  Scully let 
out a little huff, but said nothing, so he assumed she 
had agreed to give it that other shot.

This time it was he who called it quits.  Whether they
were trying too hard, or *he* was, or it was something 
else like Scully's disbelief, nothing was happening.

Sighing, he opened his eyes and studied his partner for
a few seconds before saying, "I'm not hearing anything 
Scully, and it's going to be getting darker soon.  We 
can try again later after we make it back to civilization 
and get something to eat and some rest."

Scully's eyes popped open and she nodded, though her
body language said she thought the effort wasn't worth
it.  "Okay," she said simply, and rose to her feet.

He followed suit, brushing the bark from the seat of his 
pants, and started off once more, Scully a few steps 
behind him.

They had not gone far, perhaps thirty feet or so, when
Mulder heard Scully's cynical thought loud and clear.

<<Mind-reading!  What's next, levitation?>>

He wasn't offended; his partner was just being true to 
her nature.  "Actually, Scully, I always wanted to fly," 
he remarked out loud.  Turning his head to the side, he 
sent a smirk her way.

"What are you talking about now, Mulder?" she asked, 
somewhat crabbily.  The frown lines were deep on her
face, and though she continued walking, she was holding
her body very stiffly, arms crossed defensively over
her chest.

"While levitation is certainly an interesting feat, I
always wished for the ability to fly," he explained,
feeling strangely light-hearted and suddenly energized.

A grin broke free, curved his lips wide.  He was reading 
her mind.  *Reading* Scully's mind.  That knowledge was 
almost enough to blow *his* mind.

Scully made a choked sound, and Mulder glanced at her
again.  Saw that she was gaping at him like a fish, mouth 
hanging open.  It wasn't a flattering description, but it 
was apt -- her eyes were huge and her face pale as well, 
completing the image.

Stopping dead in her tracks, his stunned partner murmured 
dazedly, "You just..." her voice faded, then grew stronger
again.  "Mulder, you really can read my mind, can't you?"

"Yup."

He couldn't help feeling smug.  Not because he had been
right and she was wrong, exactly, though that was certainly
an important factor.  Well, maybe that was the only factor.

"Gloating doesn't become you, Mulder," Scully put in then,
and he wondered if she had merely read him because she
knew him, or if she had *read* him.

Again she echoed his thoughts, rather eerily.  "And I'm 
not reading your mind, Mulder.  I just know you.  Besides,
you've got that look on your face."

Guilty as charged -- what could he say?  Yet like a child
who cannot sit still, Mulder could not remain quiet about 
their amazing discovery.

"It's incredible, isn't it, Scully?" he asked, going up
to her to lay his hands on her shoulders.  

"Yes.  Yes, it is," she replied, voice still reflecting
her shock.  She blinked slowly, brilliant blue eyes now
showing her growing wonder.  "It's more than incredible,
Mulder, it's...well, it's scientifically amazing!"

Nodding, he said, "We've got to get back to D.C., Scully.
Get this tested somehow."  The circumstances leading up
to their miraculous discovery occurred to him, and he 
added, "We need to find Dr. Kushov.  Urgently."

"Then let's get going," she said.

***
End Part 3 of 12