^*^*^ Interlude I: "Pull over, there. Leave the engine running." Quick efficient movements as the door was opened. He got in, his black topcoat pulled tightly against him. Even in the waning natural light of a day too long for comfort, his expression was all too readable. "What makes you so sure? You've seen him in action, know he found her as I'd predicted." He reached for the lighter, the tip of the cigar bitten off between uneven alabaster teeth, poised for the flame and ensuing inhalation. His hand reached up slowly, snatching the pungent rolled tobacco from his associate's hand and flipped it out the partially opened window. "You better be right about this. And…I don't want to remind you again about those foul-smelling weeds." The door swung open and Bishop climbed out. Proteus pulled the door closed once again as the driver surged forward, a spray of gravel barely missing the other man's pant legs. *^*^* Interlude II: "Scully" She sat on a small stone bench on the south side of the Radisson's entry gardens. She'd been sitting there ever since the cab dropped her off; wasn't even sure what time it was. Although, if the sky was any indication, it was later in the afternoon. What little sunlight had made its way between the cloud cover was now starting to move lower in the western sky. She supposed she was hungry, but hadn't really thought much about eating since breakfast, since she returned from Mulder's. And although the air had turned cooler, she never felt it through her velour top. His gruff baritone registered, immediately snapping her from her lethargy. "Yes Sir, I'm here." She sounded preoccupied to his trained ears. To his ears that had heard the many inflections and tones and meanings in her voice over the many and long years. That same training also told him that there would be 'nothing wrong' and that she'd 'be fine' if he were to inquire. So he didn't. Knowing as well that if she needed to share something with him, she would do so. Not waiting for the affirmative response he knew would be coming, he plunged on. She smiled. "Yes, Sir, I know he's undercover, although I don't know the details at this point." He was thorough, but she expected no less. "Where will I be staying?" She thought she heard the small laugh he worked so hard to bury. "I just wondered how you might explain it to the auditors, Sir." It must be part of Bureau training, she mused. No one ever finished a phone conversation by saying 'good-bye'. *^*^*^*^* Radisson Hotel, Penthouse Suite Wednesday, 20 September 8:00AM Awaking with a start, she sat up, her breathing ragged, sweat drenching her silk nightshirt. She ran a shaking hand through her hair, holding it in place as she focused on her surroundings. Although the blinds were closed and the heavy brocade drapes were still drawn, she could see the faint lines of sunlight framing the small spaces where the window treatments gaped from the wall, tiny dust particles caught and suspended. Her eyes adjusted to the early morning light and she noted the wardrobe armoir, the tapestry settee and her robe at the foot of the bed. Inhaling deeply, she closed her eyes as she then exhaled and tossed back the comforter. A chill ran over her long legs as she swung them over the side. Sliding her feet into her satin and maribou wedge slippers, she stood, feeling the silk fall to her hips. Fully awake and oriented, she strode to the large window wall and drew the drapes and blinds, allowing the warm light to bathe the dark furnishings. Heading for the phone on the desk, she rang the concierge to ask that her breakfast be delivered in precisely forty-five minutes; the time it would take her to shower and dress. Checking the digital clock, she noted that the hotel staff would arrive by nine. For every minute they were late, they would lose a significant portion of their tip. Smiling smugly, she headed for the marble bathroom. Her slippers were kicked off outside and she padded barefoot into the spacious bathroom. Turning the shower to a very hot setting, the billows of steam immediately filled the glass enclosure, fogging the mirrored wall. Unbuttoning the few pearl fasteners, she let the nightshirt slip from her body, pooling at her feet. Arms raised high overhead she stretched once, cat-like, and then entered the stall. Economical movements in brisk fashion and she was ready to dry off and do her hair. She carefully wrapped a peach colored bathsheet around her willowy and buxom figure and grabbed the blow dryer. As her dark waves fell neatly in precise face framing curves, she shared her plans for the day with her reflection in the steamed mirror. "Where to begin? So many options. Either way, they'll pay. She'll pay." She put the finishing touches on her hair and let the large towel drop from her body. Heading out of the bathroom, she continued. "I'm not sure whose face I want to see register the surprise first." She grabbed her taupe satin panties and matching bra and hurriedly pulled them on. Breakfast would arrive soon. Or so she hoped. Next, she pulled the navy trouser socks from her carry-on bag and sat on the edge of the bed as she put them on. "His reaction will be priceless. It will be difficult, at first, for him to accept what he's seeing, that it's me, but then it will dawn on him, he'll know I came back for him. As I've always promised I would." Making her way to the walk-in closet, she reached for the cedarwood suit hangar and removed the navy gabardine trousers and duster. Tossing the calf-length jacket onto the unmade bed, she stepped into the pants and fastened the side button. "It's *her* reaction I most want to see." The devilish gleam in her eyes was the only indication that she was functioning just outside the realm of true reality. "But I can't decide how I want to see her reaction. Whether it will be better if we're alone or if she sees me with him." She paused, her head tipped to one side, considering. Biding her time, she stuck her head into the frosty pink angora sweater and smoothed it down to her waist. "Maybe both. Maybe she sees me alone *and* she sees me with Fox." Moving more quickly she grabbed her quilted suede make-up kit and sat at the vanity. A sweep of blush on the swells of her cheeks, a few smudges of cocoa shadow, black mascara and a deep rose lip gloss and she was set. Just as the knock on the door announced her breakfast. She handed the server a twenty, smiling crookedly at him when she told him to keep the change. Precision and punctuality. Yes, she loved them. Moving to the small seating area by the window, she absently sipped her latte and picked up the croissant. It was still warm, another nice touch. Her morning was going better than expected. Holding the warm and fragrant pastry in her red lacquered fingers, she brought it to her mouth -- and dropped it right back onto the porcelain china bread and butter plate. Determination setting her eyes cold and hard, she wiped her hand on the linen napkin and picked up the phone. "Dana Scully's room, please." She didn't realize she was holding her breath until she released it in a whoosh. "I'll ring that for you now." "No, thank you. I've changed my mind." She replaced the receiver and stood, gathering her jacket and Coach clutch. The nearly silent hum of the elevator's journey to the lobby had nothing on her tuneless voice playing out some melody known only to her. The only other occupant, one of the hotel staff, closed her yes and winced at the sound, averting her eyes. Mercifully, the ride was short. As the doors parted, the staff member alighted first, anxious to get on with her daily business, leaving Diana to saunter, her held high, into the lobby. Her eyes surreptitiously darting and glancing, she moved to the leather banquette by the stand of ficas trees. Smiling inwardly, thankful for her 'connection's' assistance, she removed her cellphone from her handbag. She bit her bottom lip in anticipation as she started to push the small buttons and then stopped. Her luck had just changed -- significantly. She kept her head down as the woman strode past her with purpose, her mind elsewhere, never noticing who was sitting close by. Diana cautiously unfolded herself from the banquette and followed Dana Scully's progress with her eyes. For now. As soon as she was sure that Dana would not see her, she called for her Jetta, watching as Scully waited for her rental. Keeping a discreet distance, the screaming red Jetta followed the sedate forest green Sebring from the hotel entrance. ^*^*^ University of Vermont The Given Building Department of Bio-Chemistry Wednesday, 20 September 9:00AM "Scully" She swung the newly-acquired rental car into the lot off of Beaumont Avenue, finding a spot close to the building in Visitor's Parking. "Hello? Is anyone there?" Eyebrows furrowing, she snapped the phone closed and was about to re-pocket the phone when it chirped again. This time, she did not respond when she put the phone to her ear. She sighed into the receiver as she turned off the engine. "Did you just call me, Mulder?" She shook off the strange feeling she'd had and focused on his words. "Funny, Mulder. What do you need?" She grabbed her briefcase and stepped from the car. "I'm at the university, about to head into the labs. Why?" She barely noticed the brilliant fall day around her as she made her way inside the building. However, she quickly started to lose the phone signal and had to move back outside again. Squinting in the glare from the asphalt and car metal, she checked her watch and sat down on the cement wall next to the science building. When he finally spoke, his voice had lost the tinge of humor and mischief. Laying her briefcase next to her feet, she leaned back and then sat forward again, a small smile curling her lips as she looked down at her shoes. She sighed. Some things never seemed to change. His insecurity for one. If he'd called her last night, she'd never known. She'd realized this morning that she'd inadvertently shut off her cell. "Mulder, we, we're okay. I just...couldn't...the time wasn't right. And this isn't the time or place for us to talk about it." She wondered, not for the first time, when the fuzzy warm smile she knew was plastered on her face had crept up on her…again. It seemed to be happening more and more and it wasn't her. Well, it wasn't the Dana Katherine Scully she'd known before. Before Mulder. She idly wondered whether he could hear it in her voice. This time she did laugh and he chuckled with her. "No, no I didn't. We'll talk later." "'But' nothing. I'm hanging up now, Mulder." The phone was snapped shut and she reached for her satchel. As she stood and turned, she stopped, the sensation of frozen fingers walking up her spine rendering her immobile. Giving in to the ghost of a thought that she was being watched, she spun on her heel. And saw nothing more than a small sea of parked vehicles, the sun reflecting off the windshields. Shaking her head, she proceeded into the Given Building. ^*^*^ Beaumont Street University of Vermont 9:20AM She was too visible sitting in her car for all this time and she didn't want to lose the redhead once she went inside the god forsaken building. As soon as she saw her stand and head for the double glass doors, Diana got out of the Jetta. Her only goal today would be to gather as much information about Scully's routine and her purpose in Vermont. She had no illusions about the personal reason she was here. Although their relationship had been seriously strained this summer, her sources had told her that the two partners were on the mend. A brief flash of fire in the leggy brunette's eyes was the only clue to her feelings on that particular subject. She tossed aside her momentary anger knowing that when she was done, it would no longer be a concern. She watched from a distance as Scully checked the brass wall directory quickly locating her destination. Diana had glanced at enough wall plaques to know that she was in the Bio-Chemistry wing of the larger Pre-Med and biological sciences building. Ducking into an alcove to avoid detection, she watched as the red-haired woman rounded the corner. She located Scully in the C-wing where the Medical Photography and Bio-Chemistry labs were located. Peering in through the porthole-shaped windows in the door, she noticed a flurry of activity at her quarry's arrival. A gray-haired man handed the FBI Agent a white lab coat, gloves and goggles. Snippets of conversation made their way through the seams in the door, male and female voices excitedly conveying their delight to be working with a well-known and highly regarded pathologist. Diana thought she might be sick from the saccharine-coated platitudes. 'CT-154'... 'reaction time'... 'accelerator' effect on humans'... So many words that she let slip by. Why Dana found any of this remotely satisfying was beyond her. And then her ears drew in the next words like a healing balm for her tortured soul. 'White paste' From the looks of things, the work would continue for several hours and she knew she was not about to hear anything of substance from her current vantage point. Taking in the scene of the group of scientists hovering around Dear Dana as if she had the answers to the creation of the universe, she frowned and tossed her hair back over her shoulder. She left the building as quickly as she could. ^*^*^ Bio-Chem Lab Given Building 9:45AM It had been quite awhile since she had been able to spend uninterrupted time in a well-stocked lab. Quantico had the finest, to be sure, but it was a rare day that she was involved in straight research, research that wasn't tied to an autopsy from a case or a mysterious piece of evidence that seemed to defy all explanation. Feeling more alive than she could recall, she removed the goggles, and moved to the electron microscope. Skinner had been true to his word. Not only was the lab state-of-the-art, but her paste samples had been transported under strict protocols. She removed one specimen from the chilled, airtight canister and set it on the workbench. Resealing the container, she set it in the glass-doored cool storage. She removed the stainless steel outer shell and then opened the inner glass capsule. She knew the effect of smell and the memories it could evoke, but the capsule was odorless. Yet it was conjuring up powerful images and even more powerful feelings and memories. Especially memories she had no desire to relive. Finding the strange substance at the crime scenes... having it rubbed into her forehead... while bound alongside her partner, helpless... *that* woman... smiling like a jackal and no less predatory in her nature... loss of control... Mulder... Diana... Her hand moved of its own accord, her fingers absentmindedly touching and massaging that small space above and between her brows. She swayed, her eyes losing their focus momentarily and she grabbed for the counter, her gloved fingertips blanching white from the strength of her grasp. A few deep breaths helped the wave of dizziness lessen, but the strange warmth and tingling took much longer to dissipate. When she was finally able to release one hand from its death grip on the marble ledge, she felt the tremors. What had happened? Was it what she'd suspected for sometime now: the paste had triggered a lasting physical reaction? Why only her? She needed some of her own blood although she wasn't sure exactly what she would test for. Simply conducting a series of standards tests might help her weed out certain variables. Complete Blood Count/Blood Chemistry. Kidney function, liver function, blood minerals with differential, blood protein and cardiovascular risk panels. Her brain mentally ticked off the series, her hand holding the pen jotting down the need for one red top and one smaller purple topped tube of her blood. She'd run these panels and then decide whether or not she ought to do a check for infections and run blood cultures as well. Step two would involve further chemical analysis of the white compound. She already knew of its catalyst characteristics and thermal reaction when in contact with the skin, but, given her alleged reaction and symptoms, she hypothesized that some other interaction was at work. Dana Scully loved a good challenge. Preferably when she wasn't the focus of the challenge. Nonetheless, she was more than motivated. Making a few in-house calls to find out which labs held the necessary equipment for proper assessment and evaluation, she developed a list of which tests she would perform when. She was able to enlist the help of three of the lab assistants who asked no questions other than where to begin. She asked the most seasoned researcher to work with her on the paste while the others drew her blood and began the screening. Initially, as she held her arm bent at the elbow until the blood stopped flowing, she directed the set up of equipment for the gas analysis and liquids and solids analyses. She would look at both ultraviolet and infrared spectrometry if the first sets were non-productive. In spite of her years of training and experience, the draw to do some 'live subject testing' was overwhelming her. She would be a willing subject. However, she knew the wisdom of waiting for the results of her blood work. And she filed away her slight trespass across the line between scientific method and personal involvement. ^*^*^ Stenhauser Construction Site Essex Junction, Vermont Noontime The morning had passed uneventfully, for the most part. There had been the time when one end of his scaffolding had dipped about twelve inches, but it had been righted almost immediately by the other worker. Then, the blow torch had refused to burn and subsequently flared, but it had been replaced for him. If he had been paranoid or worried about being watched, he might have attributed those two incidents to some nefarious cause…or to the men who had visited him and Scully. "Hey, buddy, time for a lunch break." Slug's beefy hand landed on Mulder's shoulder with a good-natured clap. "Grab that silver bucket of yours and let's chow down." "How about if I catch up with you, Slug; I've got a phone call to make first." Grimacing only slightly, carefully hiding it behind a smile, Mulder felt the minute tremors that rattled through his torso, settling in his lower back. While the purples and deep blues on his back were in full bloom, the pain had subsided somewhat. Except when jostled. Slug grinned, a gesture that seemed to light his entire face, and muttered something about whether the little lady had a name. He waved off Mulder's questioning look and told him he'd be down in his truck waiting. As soon as the elevator had begun its descent carrying the last topside worker, Mulder snapped open his cellphone and pressed #1 speed dial. The phone seemed to ring forever as his boots paced the wooden temporary flooring. As short as the word already was, her answer sounded tightly clipped. As if she had been interrupted. Not an auspicious way to begin his conversation with her. "Didn't mean to interrupt your work. Just thought you might be taking a break for lunch. How's it going?" Using the back of her gloved hand to push her goggles back up onto the bridge of her nose, Scully tried to wedge the phone between her ear and shoulder. Her other hand was needed to turn down the flame under the Bunsen burner. Letting out a sigh, she walked away from the bench and her colleagues. She paced as she spoke, one hand now on her hip, the other holding the phone as she walked out into the hallway. She was actually thankful for the break, hadn't realized that it was already noontime. "Am I sensing some fatigue mixed with a healthy dose of exasperation, Scully?" He reached up and removed his hard hat, setting it on the small equipment housing next to him. The cool breeze chilled him as it blew through his matted and damp hair. He snaked a hand through his locks feeling relieved to lose the weight of the hat, even temporarily. Her voice in his ear somehow made the day better, but he wished he really could go join her for lunch. Even with the hour break, by the time he got down to his truck and drove there, he'd had used half of it. Besides, they'd agreed they'd be discreet with their visibility -- especially during the daylight hours. ^*^*^ Given Building "You could say that. I don't know. Every time I think I'm making some headway, a new set of questions are posed. I've set everything up based on my last round of tests and the reports from the Hapskah case. I've begun some new testing, but I keep coming back around to the beginning. I should--" She ended up outside in the parking lot, the blast of the noonday sun on the asphalt and vehicles slamming into her full force. It actually felt good after the semi-darkness and regulated chill of the lab. And then a chill of a different kind settled in around her; the same feeling she'd had earlier when she arrived. She stopped mid-sentence, hearing Mulder calling her name over and over into the phone, but she couldn't answer him. Leaving the connection open, she let the phone hang at her side as she brought one hand up to her brow to shield some of the sun's glare and turned 360 degrees. Seeing nothing and feeling a bit foolish, she moved back toward the building, bringing the phone back to her ear, knowing her partner would be wondering what was happening. She knew by the intensity of his tone that he'd reached the point where he was probably half-way to his truck. "I'm here, Mulder. It's okay. I'm..." "I'm not sure and it's probably nothing, really. I just had a strange feeling." She could see him carefully preparing his comeback, could *feel* his amusement and she let it ride knowing there was no way to stop it. The playfulness and teasing in his voice was all too obvious and evident; he was enjoying the rare opportunity. Try as she might, Scully couldn't suppress her own smile and slight chuckle. It seemed to ease her earlier apprehension and, truth be told, somewhat niggling sense of deja vu. Not one easily given over to whim or fancy, she had learned over time to trust her instincts no matter what their source. She also knew that her partner tended to rely on this type of 'evidence' more than most... and had been quite successful because of it. She guessed that the difference between operating solely on hunches or solely on hard fact was knowing when to use which. She would admit that a healthy dose of trusting his hunches had saved them many times and that trusting in her own gut feelings had also worked for her more times than not. But it would rain sleeping bags before she admitted it. "Yes, Mulder, you heard me correctly. Look, I should probably get back into the lab, I've..." She was already heading back toward the double glass doors to the building when it hit her again. She whirled around quickly and saw the gleam and flash of sun bouncing off a moving mirror as the car sped away -- a little too fast for the neighborhood. She *was* being watched; she was sure of it now. "I've got a lot of work to do, but why don't we talk later." He quickly covered his other ear as the loud, shrill whistle signaling the end to the lunch period blared. "We'll talk later, Mulder. Pick me up, okay?" She snapped the phone shut not waiting for his response, knowing he'd do exactly as she'd asked. Counting on him. Her hand reached behind her automatically, confirming that her weapon was tucked into its holster at her waist. ^*^*^ Stenhauser Construction Site Flipping his hat back on his head, Mulder ended his connection, grabbing the blowtorch he'd set aside right before lunch. Lunch... He hadn't had a chance to eat so much as a bite of his sandwich and he was actually very hungry. He wondered what union rules and regs said about eating while soldering. Heck, he could even make himself a grilled cheese. The lack of food must be affecting him more than the altitude; that was poor even by his standards. As he approached the scaffolding on the other side of the frame, he nearly collided with Slug and another worker. The man was facing the opposite direction, so Mulder had no idea who he might be. Slug helped him out by introducing them. "Chris, I've got someone who wants to talk to you, privately. Says it's important. His name's Roscoe." Mulder gazed up at Tanner Roscoe who stood almost a foot taller than him and seemed to have cornered the market on muscle mass. The man was literally bursting from his denim shirt and jeans. "Mistah Ahsenault? Yeah, Ahm Tannah and Ah've got some infohmation Ah think you're gonna need. Why don't we take us a walk." Although a smile appeared on his lips, it never quite made it to his lackluster eyes. He took Mulder by the arm and led him to the elevator. "Well, Mr. Roscoe, it looks like I'm taking a little after lunch break. I'll be right back, Slug." Mulder gently shrugged free of Tanner's hold, but followed. His every instinct told him this man was probably some low-level flunky, but that he might have some valuable information. He was also concerned that failing to comply might further endanger Scully. Tanner Roscoe drew back the mesh screen that passed for a door on the elevator and stepped inside. Mulder stopped at the threshold; not sure if joining the man was wise, but knowing he needed to hear what he had to say. "Where are we headed?" "Nowhere. We're staying right here, so get in." The accent was gone, as was the affable smile. "The Boss hears that you want in on some action. Does he hear correctly, Mr. Arsenault?" Tanner watched blankly as Mulder entered the lift, arms crossed in front of him. "Yeah, the Boss hears correctly. What kind of action do you have for me and how soon can I get started?" Mulder involuntarily took a step, his back against the side wall, Tanner directly in front of him. He could feel the large man's breath wash across him hot and somewhat Jim Beam scented. "You'll find some information in your truck. Meet the contact as instructed. Follow your instructions to the letter. I'm sure I don't need to remind you about extreme consequences for problems with following instructions." Before Mulder knew what had happened, Roscoe hit the 'down' button and shoved Mulder from the elevator as it left the top of the structure. Nearly tripping on the planking, he reached for his hard hat and pulled his tool belt back onto his hip. His undercover assignment was about to get much more interesting. But for now, the blowtorch was calling to him. ^*^*^ Essex Junction, Vermont Fringes of Stenhauser Construction Site "How do we know we can trust this new guy?" Jason Stenhauser's pregnant question hung over the group and underneath the trees. His piercing stare roved over each and every man. "We don't really ever know anything about the newest recruits, but this guy seems to be well-connected. And, he's 'hungry'." Bishop Stillman locked eyes with Jason and then glanced away. "Hungry for what, exactly?" Jason looked directly at him once again. "I think I can answer that one," Ben's voice rang above the rest as he walked into the center of the group, "he needs the money. I've done a background check on him and the man's nearly broke. And, he seems to have a slightly tarnished rep he wants to 'work off'." "So much the better. 'Tarnished reps' are the easiest to mold. And there's his lady friend. Quite the looker, that one. A little too independent for my tastes, but that would change once she--" Bishop never got to finish his thought as he brother rudely cut him off, telling him he didn't stand a chance with her, that she was so far out of his league he'd need a telescope to even see her. Bishop was not pleased…in the least, but Jason's presence put the brothers at a stalemate for now. Jason knew better than to assume this discussion had ended. The 'B. Stillmans' were legendary, at least in their own minds, about their prowess with women. Especially Bishop. Jason knew that Ben's marriage had ended and had seemed to be a pretty stable connection. But word also had it that both men had played their fair share of the opposite sex. With some larger than life results. Jason headed over to Mulder's truck and found it unlocked. No matter, a mere locking mechanism wouldn't have kept him out. He took the gray envelope that held the next set of directions and placed it in the center console storage box. "Let's get out of here. We can come back at quitting time." The three men climbed into Stenhauser's quadcab and tore out of the graveled lot. ^*^*^ 5:00PM The blare of the claxon sounded signaling the end of another day. As much as he could think of other places he'd rather be right now, the work gave him a chance to organize his thoughts and plans for this case. The manual labor charged him up even as it tired him out and he'd even made a couple of decent acquaintances. Slug was a good guy, although Mulder wondered about his connections to Tanner Roscoe. It could have been as simple as just bringing the man over to meet him, but Mulder also knew that appearances could be deceiving. While he'd only thought about it on occasion, he realized just how much he enjoyed undercover work. There was something about getting inside the head of the person he had to become that fascinated and challenged him. It was almost like profiling, but not quite as draining since he didn't have to delve too deeply into a troubled psyche. Much to Scully's chagrin, Mulder had actually enjoyed playing 'Poopyhead' in Arcadia Falls. His role had allowed him to create and to *try* to test the bounds of their relationship with her. Was he a real asshole for having had some fun at her expense? Probably, but he bore no lasting scars. This case was different, much different, and he suspected he'd be heading into some uncharted territory. Not that he minded. He often worked best 'on the fly', developing his plan as he was implementing it. But he also knew the risks on this one, knew he was infiltrating a well-organized and quite possibly international group who would stop at nothing to protect their organization and their profits. Profits he knew to be high given the lucrative market they were dabbling in. Lucrative and insidious. He opened the door to his truck and slid his lunch container across the seat. He was starving, but had lost all interest in his most likely stale sandwich. He hung his hard hat on the cab window hook and removed his tool belt, stowing it under the passenger seat. Glancing around for the instructions he was supposed to read, he climbed in and started the vehicle. Pulling down the windshield visors, he found nothing. The glove box, under the seats and dash also produced negative results. Pausing to collect his thoughts, he laid his arm on the center console and then slowly turned to it. Leaning to the left, he lifted the armrest on its hinge and found the dingy envelope inside, his name printed on the outside. He nonchalantly looked around knowing that he probably wouldn't even see the watchers if they were there and then tore open the envelope. The note was also handwritten on equally dingy paper, the cursive writing sprawling on a downward right slant. Mulder checked his watch; it was going to be tight, but they knew that. Test number one... As he picked up Route 15W and headed back into Burlington, he remembered he'd told Scully he'd pick her up at the lab. Damn! He grabbed his cell belatedly. Why was it so hard for him to think about calling instead of just tearing off? He had gotten much better in the last several years, but there were still times when his sense of adventure, his desire to follow the lead to its conclusion, hell, his sometimes single-minded focus just confounded his efforts. And made her burning angry. Not that he blamed her. They had a partnership and could only work as a team if both members of that team were in possession of the same information at the same time. "Hey, it's me." Scully continued pouring the contents of the solution into the beaker as she wedged the phone between her ear and her shoulder. She glanced up at the wall clock, noting that it was close to five. The afternoon had flown by and she'd managed to learn a new few characteristics of the paste. She was glad that Mulder would be there soon. "I'm on my way to the Burlington Ferry. Change in plans or temporary delay, depending on how you want to interpret it." She frowned and then quickly chastised herself. She knew full well he was working on a case; the same one she'd just been assigned to. If nothing else, the fact that he'd actually called instead of leaving her stranded high and dry was a benefit. But that didn't mean she wasn't going to probe further. "Look, I'm almost there and--" The evasiveness in his tone was unmistakable. She was sure he could hear her tightly controlled tone. When seconds passed without an answer, she continued, "Sorry, Scully, you know how hard it is for me to do more than one thing at a time--" Seriousness tinged with barely veiled humor, she realized she was smiling. "I'm on my way to meet a contact who's supposed to give me a task. I believe they call this my 'initiation' or testing period." "No can do, Scully. Trust me on this one." "I know, but when have we ever completely trusted anyone besides each other? I've gotta do this their way. I'm sorry, Scully, but I'll make it up to you. I shouldn't be that long. Can you stay there until 7:30?" She looked around, sizing up what she still had left to accomplish with her tests, factoring in the final notes, and decided that she'd have plenty to keep her occupied until then. She paused then added, He smiled as he headed into downtown. "Always." And he ended the connection. ^*^*^ Burlington-Port Kent Ferry Dock 6:15PM He managed to find a street-side spot and parallel-parked quickly, maneuvering the truck deftly. He reached for his corduroy jacket and broke out into a run for the docks. Although the day had remained relatively warm, a decided breeze was blowing eastward from the Lake, ruffling the water into white caps. He ran up to the ticket kiosk and purchased a roundtrip ticket, although he had no idea if they'd even leave the shore. From there, he climbed the stairs to the metal gangway that led to the main passageway. Although still in season, the ferry was populated mostly by those traveling home after a long day's work. He figured that most of the tourism traffic would come on the weekends, probably foliage tours and such. He made his way to the bow and ducked inside the bulkhead. Most seats were already occupied, row upon row of dark green vinyl sculpted chairs welded onto rows of white blocks. Heading for the back of the large area, he started looking for his contact. He had no idea who Jemel was, but assumed he or she would know him. And he was correct. He heard his name before he located the source of the call. His eyes scanned the back row and settled on the 5' 6" ash blonde leaning against the viewing window in the corner. Her hair was board straight and bluntly cut to chin length and her piercing green eyes sized him up with no concern about the obvious way in which she did so. Mulder watched with idle curiosity as her head titled to one side and a small, but dangerous smile, played across her pink stained lips as she recognized him from his picture. He approached her, holding the gray scrap of paper where it would be visible to her. She tugged on her dark green bomber jacket, wrapping it about her and then walked toward him. She noted the way his eyes darted from her jean clad legs back up to her face. "Jemel Cummings, Mr. Arsenault. Move to the outside walkway and wait for me by the gangway." Her voice reminded Mulder of the pre-recorded 'on-star' computerized system used now in many new model vehicles; carefully modulated with just the barest touch of warmth. He complied, making his way back toward the bulkhead and out to the deck that surrounded the cabin. "Stop right there," her tone much more commanding, yet breathy. "Move to the rail, both hands on it, facing the water." The boat had pulled free from its moorings and was chugging away from the dock, the horn blaring twice in departure signal. He placed his hands onto the painted iron railing and looked in her direction. He watched her approach, one hand now in her jacket pocket, until she was standing hip to hip with him, also looking out onto the choppy waves. He felt the pressure at his side as she grinned at him. "There were other ways to tell me how happy you are to see me again," he snapped at her, his grin matching hers. His comment earned him a decided jab in the ribs with what he assumed was the butt of her weapon. "Mr. Arsenault, it might be wise to treat me kindly since we'll be seeing much more of each other after tonight." When he returned his gaze to the Lake, she removed the gun. "I thought I was being quite hospitable. It's not often someone 'kindly' presses their weapon into my side." His words dripped with controlled sarcasm. She hooked her arm around his at the elbow and leaned in a little closer. "Listen to me very carefully. When the boat returns from Port Kent, you'll go back to your truck and go straight to your room. You'll find a package waiting for you there. Deliver it, as is, to the address noted. Call me at this number," she handed him another piece of gray paper, "within ten minutes of making the delivery. Do we have an understanding, Mr. Arsenault?" "You make all your new friends run around the city like this? If I'd wanted the full tour, I would've booked one." "You have a mouth on you, you know that. I'll cut you some slack this once, but it might be wise to mind your manners. Not everyone is as forgiving as I am." She turned and walked away, the clouded and darkening sky making it hard for him to follow her movements as she disappeared into the crowds. ^*^*^ University of Vermont Given Building 7:30PM One by one, the other assistants bid Scully good night, hung their lab coats on the stainless steel pegs by the door and departed. She liked this group; they were friendly, easy to talk to and extremely knowledgeable and dedicated to helping her. One of the team had actually offered to stay and work with her a little longer; had lingered even after Scully had waived her away good naturedly. Scully realized that although universities often participated in major research projects, it probably wasn't every day they worked with an Agent of the Bureau. They handled it well. She made a few last notes in her journal and also recorded her observations on micro-tape, hoping to cross-reference both later. She then covered and re-stored the paste samples she had used for testing and wiped down the counter area. Hanging her safety goggles over the workbench area, she glanced up at the clock. She noted that it was already seven forty-five and she hadn't seen or heard from Mulder yet. She headed for the lab coat rack and shrugged out of hers and then released her hair from the scrunchie. She supposed she should freshen up a little before he showed up, but she was already wondering about his lateness. , she silently amended, She moved over to the basin sink with the mirror behind it and ran her hands through her hair, fluffing it just a bit. Reaching for her backpack, she removed a cleanser wipe and ran it over her face, feeling some of the long day work free. Next, she applied some light moisturizer and finally, some coral lip-gloss. She tugged her button down petite floral shirt, the squared off hem hitting her jeans mid-hip. And then she started pacing. It was just after eight now and she hadn't heard from him. First believing that his new associates might have gone to visit him again, she pulled her cellphone from her pack and speed-dialed. She walked another lap around the lab as she listened to the recorded voice telling her to leave a message in his voicemail. "Hi, it's me. I'm here, where are you?" Trying to keep her tone light, she snapped the phone closed, but didn't put it away. Feeling the need to continue to move, she walked across the hall into another lab, now also empty, and shut the lights off. She was just about to call him again when her phone rang. Sure that it was probably him, she smiled, finding herself really wanting to hear his voice. "Scully." She waited a bit longer than usual, then said her name again, wondering if the signal inside the lab was weak. When she still got no response, she closed the phone, reaching for her backpack, deciding she would head back to the hotel. The phone rang again. Snapping it open, she answered, "Mulder, if this is your idea of a joke--", and stopped. She was sure it wasn't Mulder, but could hear the faster than usual breathing on the other end. "Hello? Who's there?" No response. Exasperated and uncharacteristically anxious with the unidentified caller, she held her breath and continued to listen. After sixty seconds of nothing but inhalations and exhalations, she disconnected. Replaying in her mind, the call from this morning and the fact that she was sure someone had been watching her, her anxiety increased. Her anxiety and her anger. Her anger at Mulder who was now more than a half hour late and unreachable. And possibly in danger. When she put it all together, she realized that she was angry because she was also scared. There were too many possibilities. Unable to control her wandering, yet still amazingly analytical, mind the possible scenarios played themselves out in the stop-start snapshot cadence. Mulder off on some wild goose chase meeting up with the wrong end of a gun. The men who 'visited' her visiting him, ambushing him. A trap at the Ferry. The scenarios spun on, endless permutations of the basic Mulder in Trouble theme. Just beneath her worry for him was the new level of concern about being followed and, if the phone calls were part of the same event, possibly being stalked. It didn’t make sense. If this were tied to their case, for that was indeed what it now was, the players had already shown themselves, played their hand. What would be the need for covert activity? They'd found her once with relative ease. Why watch her? The chill of being watched refused to leave her as she slung her backpack over her shoulder and grabbed her jacket. Turning out the lights as she pushed through the portaled double doors, she moved briskly down the hall. She could still make out the muted sounds in the labs around her where graduate assistant Post Docs burned the midnight oil. Professional development opportunity also known as 'grunt work' left to the lowest rungs of the scholarly ladder. As she was about to reach for the push bar across the large swing doors at the exit, the sound of screeching tires and a blaring horn startled her and she froze in place. The sounds outside died away abruptly only to be replaced by the sound of heavy footfalls in the hall behind her. She whirled around quickly -- and found no one there. She had to get out of the building and to her car. She had to find Mulder. Her eyes quickly adjusted to the halogen lit parking lot as she furtively glanced from side to side for any unusual activity. Her keys were already in her hand as she made her way to her rental car. Quickly opening the door, she tossed her backpack onto the passenger seat and started the engine. She took her cellphone out of the pack and opened it, speed dialing Mulder's number once again, but waiting to depress 'send'. Throwing the shifter into R, she slowly began to back up. And that's when she noticed the hood and headlights of the very fancy red sports car. Continuing to clear her space, she kept her eyes on the rearview mirror, trying to ascertain if there was anyone inside the vehicle. In the time it took her to refocus on exiting, she heard an engine quietly come to life. With her own headlights off, she cruised down the double-sided lane of cars as she drove toward the street. There in her rearview mirror was the red sports car, a Jetta, pacing her, but remaining a good distance between them. Picking up speed, she took a left onto the one-way access road and then headed right toward the inner loop that would take her to Colchester Street and back into town. Neither vehicle's lights shown, but Scully decided that if she'd already been spotted, road safety was more important and turned hers on. As she rounded the corner and drove between the Fletcher Allen Health Care Facility and its Parking Garage, she could make out the stop sign at the corner of Colchester. Try as she might, now that the Jetta's lights were also blazing, she could make out nothing more than a tallish dark figure behind the wheel. She could not tell whether it was male or female; not that it mattered, she didn't know anyone who drove a Jetta. Not in Burlington, Vermont at any rate. She made one last ditch effort to determine if she were truly being followed and detoured from Colchester, taking a sharp left onto University Place, a right onto South Prospect and than a quick left back onto Pearl, formerly Colchester. Checking the side view mirror, she noted the red car closing on her bumper. The fact that it was a weekday night, now around 9, traffic was almost entirely non-existent in this residential area. Scully ignored stoplights and signs and picked up speed, carefully checking side streets as she crossed Route 7 and Center Street. She had done a quick check after Mulder called her earlier today and found out that the Ferry Docks were on Battery Street. She would junction with Battery just north of Main and south of Park Streets. But she didn't want her pursuer to join her. Crossing Center, she veered left onto Church Street, idly noticing Kimberley and Bryan's home on her right and then swung the wheel right taking the turn onto College rather quickly. As she entered a rather open area, the Jetta picked up speed, trying to draw parallel to her on the passenger's side. Scully pressed the gas pedal to the floor, but the other driver matched her. Considerably more concerned now, for she knew the possibility of other vehicular traffic or finding herself by the side of the road, she abruptly slammed the brakes. She came to a grinding and jerky stop, whipping first forward and then pressed back into her seat, her safety belt keeping her from either the steering wheel or windshield. As she rammed the shifter into reverse, hoping to turn and throw her pursuer off course, she was butted hard from the front. Somehow, the Jetta's driver had managed to turn around and head straight for Scully's car. The force of the collision sent Scully's car spinning across the road and into the field west of Pine Street. The Jetta was nowhere to be seen. ^*^*^ The note and small package were sitting on his coffee table when he barged into his apartment. It was now 8:15 and he'd told Scully he'd pick her up at 7:30. She was going to be angry. No, she was going to be very worried and very angry. He'd been so intent on following Jemel's instructions to the letter, knowing that his failure to perform this step of the plan exactly could risk further inclusion in the group's circle. He hoped that Scully would assume his meeting had taken much longer than he'd initially anticipated. If he had stopped to think it through more clearly, he would also have known that she would have tried to find him when he hadn't called her to explain his lateness. As he sat, the package and note in one hand, he grabbed his cell, noting that he had a voicemail message. He knew it had to be from Scully. He'd turned the phone off once he'd arrived at the dock and hadn't bothered to check his calls on the way home. Opening the envelope, he called her. And got her voicemail. Unlike him, Mulder knew that Scully did not usually turn her phone off. He thought it possible that she might be outside the calling area, but also knew that most of Burlington and the surrounding communities, at least as far as Essex Junction to the east, had been accessible. Leaving her a message to call him, he then dialed the Radisson. Only to find out that she was not in her room. Nor was there any answer at the lab in the Given Building. "Where are you, Scully?" He didn't even realize he'd spoken the question aloud. Doing so making his concern about her real...palpable. He decided that he would look for her on the way to wherever it was he would be going. He quickly pulled the folded slip of paper from the envelope and smiled at the cloak and dagger style of the note: Like hell was he going to destroy the evidence. As the clock ticked on his phone call to Jemel, he slid the note back into the envelope and ran into the bathroom. He stuffed the envelope inside his shaving kit, leaving it open on the sink vanity. By his watch he had two minutes before he had to make the call. Picking up his keys and cell, he left his apartment, package in tow. ^*^*^ It was dark. And cold. And she couldn't move. Fuzzy images appeared as miniature movie scenes behind her eyes. Men with dark hair. Holding her. Asking her questions, telling her something. Pain. So much pain. Darkness. The visions slipped away and she slept. Until she felt the cold again and the tightness across her shoulder, her chest and her abdomen. The cold was joined by pain as she willed her eyelids to open. She heard chirping -- crickets, and hissing. Insects? She vaguely remembered a field of sorts somewhere to one side of her car. She was in her car, the tightness mostly likely her safety belt. Her eyes fell closed again, much easier than they had opened. It felt good to let them close. Besides, open, they'd only shown her darkness in her immediate view, twinkling lights in the distance. She lifted her fingers from her lap, happy that there was something that didn't ache. Next moving her wrist and bending her arm at her elbow, she brought her hand slowly to her face. Other than a brief twinge in her shoulder, she was able to move her arm freely. She gingerly touched her face, wincing as her fingers moved across her cheek and up to her cheekbone. Contusions, definitely bruised. Focusing on assessing her injuries, she began to remember in bits and pieces. Another car. Red. Red Jetta. Flashes of headlights in her rearview mirror. The car next to her in the same lane. Moving fast…trying to move away from the other car. Turning. Being rammed. The ditch. A flood of jagged-edged memories. They hurt. She hurt. Her hand came away from her scalp wet and sticky and she knew instantly it was blood. Also knew that the skin of the scalp is very thin, the blood vessels very close to the surface, thereby making it appear worse than it was. But still…so much blood. Her fingers moved to the back of her neck as her head lolled to one side. No pain there, but dry, crusty blood. It was the jabbing and searing pain in her side that worried her. In her side with her barely healed ribs. She unfastened the safety belt and tried to right herself. She had to get out, had to find help. Twisting her body toward the driver's door elicited a sound somewhere between a groan and a moan. Yes. Her ribs were most likely bruised, if not fractured. Dr. Scully's assessment indicated the need for immediate attention. Agent Scully's assessment indicated the need to get the hell out of the car and find Mulder. Pawing at the small handle, she pulled and then pushed, to no avail. It made no sense to her since that the door would be stuck she'd been hit from the front, but, no matter. It was jammed and she'd have to try the passenger side. The angle at which the car now rested actually made her progress somewhat easier. She'd be moving 'downhill', so to speak. Her vision began to clear, allowing her to focus more on her surroundings. The road was quiet. She didn't recall seeing or hearing another vehicle since she'd been here. How convenient -- being run off the road in a deserted area of town. Although the engine had stalled and shut down, her key had remained in the battery-on position. The dashboard clock read 10:13. She'd been here for a little over an hour, as far as she could tell. She reached over to turn the keys and remove them from the ignition, noting that the motion sent a fresh wave of pain through her right shoulder. She mentally added to the list: left ribs, facial contusions, scalp abrasions, right shoulder strain? She was developing a fine list. Good to see her sense of wry humor was still intact. Although that told her she was thinking clearly. Focus. She had to fight the lethargy that was settling over her. ^*^*^ 115 Cherry Street He could have walked to the address it was so close by, but he'd wanted to try to find Scully as soon as he made the drop. He'd called Jemel, as required, and she'd tersely told him to proceed, to follow the instructions to the letter and warned him again about 'being creative'. 'Don't think Mr. Arsenault, just do,' her final words before she disconnected. She was one cold chick. He arrived at the apartment building, driving around back to the visitor parking. The building was older, but had been kept up well from what he could tell in the street lamp lit view. Approximately four stories high, he entered by a center door to a locked entryway. He moved to the wall at his left where the building directory was located alongside the silver mail slots. Noting that no name accompanied the buzzer for apartment 16, he depressed it anyway. He was greeted by a curt, 'Yes'. He assumed he was being invited upstairs and his assumption was proven correct when the buzzer rang, allowing him to enter the stairwell. There were four apartments per floor and he climbed the stairs to the top. He was surprised by the bright and cheery hallway, so unlike his building. The walls were painted off-white along the top half and covered with tone-on-tone vertically striped pale yellow wallpaper on the bottom. Whitewashed wainscoting separated the paint and paper. It struck him as more than a little impractical for a public access way, but if he wasn't footing the maintenance what did he care? The carpeting was a darker tan low pile that set off the whitewashed doors. He used the brass doorknocker and struck the door three times, sure he was being observed through the small viewer. He resisted the urge to make a sarcastic, yet entertaining face. Mulder did not particularly like roles which required him to follow another's rules quite so closely; preferring to interpret those rules to suit his style. While he silently mused, the door swung open, no one immediately in view as he peered inside. A quick visual sweep showed furnishings that seemed to match the hallway, bright and airy, monochromatic and neutral in coloration. A coffee table that looked more like a desk underneath all the files sat in the center of the room. "Hello?" Mulder leaned forward, his head turning to his left as he took one step inside the doorjamb. "Mr. Arsenault, I presume." A quiet statement that proceeded the rough hand on his right arm, dragging him into the room before the door was slammed behind him. The small package was quickly diverted into the waiting hands of none other than Jemel, the note also ripped from his fingers. "Well, it appears that the package is unopened and I see no signs of tampering. Very good, Mr. Arsenault, very good. At least for the first step." Jemel set the box on the table, precariously balancing it among the topsy-turvy file folders and other assorted papers. "Against the wall and spread 'em." Mulder presumed that must be Mr. Zale, but he figured he'd find out as they were about to be 'introduced'. He noted that Jemel stood to one side, her leather jacket tossed onto the arm chair. Her tight black tee did nothing to hide her sleek curves nor the sinewy muscles he was sure could effectively halt any attempts he made to free himself from the business-suited Mr. Zale. He found himself nearly shoved face first to the wall, turning to one side to avoid smashing his nose, his palms preventing his momentum from making the impact painful. He spread his legs as demanded. "His neck, head, hold them still." Jemel moved in to comply with her superior's commands, placing one hand against Mulder's right ear as the left side of his face was pressed to the painted wall. She leaned the rest of her body against his torso while she opened her other hand against his neck. Mulder grunted out, "You really are trying to show me the old Vermont hospitality, aren't you Ms. Cuming?' "If I were you, Mr. Arsenault, I'd keep my witticisms to myself. They won't be appreciated or tolerated here." The low vibrations of her words and breath had their effect and he quieted without further comment. Mulder inhaled sharply as Mr. Zale performed a rather rough body search. He knew he was being checked for weapons and wires, but the man was thorough, a little *too* thorough. The large, thick hands ran from his shoulders to his armpits, along his sides and then yanked his tee from his jeans. The very warm, but soft skin and probing fingers made him jump as Mr. Zale continued his explorations over Mulder's abdomen and chest before moving around to his back. Satisfied that his upper body was clear, he efficiently undid the buckle on Mulder's belt and had unzipped the fly before he even had a chance to register Zale's actions. Luckily, he hadn't had to endure full body searches more than a few times in his career with the Bureau, but that didn't mean he enjoyed them. He just hoped that the suited man wasn't going for the inner and outer track search this time... "It seems, so far, that you have obeyed your orders, but we both know there are many more places to conceal below the belt, don't we?" The obvious overzealous mirth in the man's voice made Mulder grimace; an expression Jemel didn't miss. "Relax, Mr. Zale has a gentle touch." Mulder noticed that she was also enjoying his rather compromising position as her thumb trailed idly along his neck and her eyes wandered to follow the path of her associate's hands. Mr. Zale's hands framed Mulder's hips before his right hand shoved Mulder's ass to flatten his groin to the wall. The feeling of both hands now moving between his legs, first all the way down his inner thighs to his calves and then back up nearly made him jump. The initial reaction was to the pressure and speed with which the hands moved. The next reaction was to the very strange feeling when Zale's hands simultaneously did their weapon check in the V of his legs -- front, center and back. He briefly caught the heated flush to Jemel's neck and face; sure that it matched his, although there for very different reasons. Seemingly finished with him, Jemel released her hold as Mr. Zale grabbed him by the neckline of his tee, spinning him to face forward. "You passed the test, Mr. Arsenault. Get out of here and don't come back." Mulder almost laughed. The suited man's face was so straight, so deadpan that Mulder would have wondered if he were even breathing had he not just experienced such a 'touching' welcome. Jemel, however, didn't try to hide her smug satisfaction and possible enjoyment of his little test. She reached up to finger comb her blonde hair and there was no mistaking the glint in her blue eyes just before she winked at him. Mulder didn't need to be told to get out more than once to get the picture. ^*^*^ She remembered thinking the Sebring was rather spacious when she'd first driven it. Her opinion changed as she tried to navigate the seemingly confining space to get to the passenger door. While her body took its time moving, her mind screamed at her to 'hurry'. She knew all too well the possibilities of engine fire or gas tank rupture, also leading to fire. Trying to maneuver her right arm without involving her shoulder, she nudged the center console up between the front seats. One step completed. She then held onto the steering wheel, using it for leverage to slide herself sideways. The simultaneous contraction of her abs and tension in her arms caused her to whimper, sucking in a deep breath. Which only served to aggravate the area around her ribs. She had no choice and moved as quickly as she could, trying to ignore the sparks of pain. She made it across the space between the seats, having to lift each leg up and over the very functional, but very 'in the way' meridian containing cup and change holders and other unidentified spaces that served now as nothing but hindrances to her progress. Not really paying much attention to anything other than her goal, she failed to see her backpack until it was wedged between her right hip and the passenger door. Sliding back a bit to her left, she managed to extricate it and put it in her lap. She wasn't going anywhere without it. Her left foot encountered something on the floor. By the feel and size of it, it had to be her cellphone. She remembered having taken it out earlier, but never having the chance to use it once her attention had been diverted to the Jetta. She'd need it too, but had to get it off the floor mat first. And the only possible ways to do that involved bending over; now or when she exited the car. She chose the former hoping that being seated already would provide her the additional stability she might need. Leaning forward, she placed her left hand on the dashboard, glad that both seats were adjusted so far forward. Slowing her breathing, she closed her eyes and bent from her waist. Tiny florescent stars prickled behind her eyelids as she remembered, belatedly, to lean toward her right side only. A few more deep breaths and she was able to extend her right arm to the floor and grab the phone from between her feet. Sitting back up proved much easier... Before depositing the phone into the small compartment on the front of the pack, Scully checked to make sure it was on and charged. Satisfied, she grabbed the handle and pushed the passenger door open. She sighed when it swung outward with no difficulty. Even though the very wide door caught on the rocks and hillocks of the field, she had enough space to swing her legs around in front of her. Knowing her right shoulder wouldn't support the backpack; she opted to convert the straps, allowing her to wear it around her waist, the weight of the pack at her belly where she could access it and her cell. Gathering her wits and direction before standing, she recalled having passed Mulder's street right before the other vehicle had pulled up next to her. Therefore, she reasoned, his street must be directly behind her, bordering the field on the east side. The field looked as vast as an ocean in her injured and now tired state and the uneven and rocky terrain would prove challenging. But she had no choice. She felt the cold almost immediately. Nighttime, northern New England, lake shore breezes, autumn -- a wonderful weather combination. Her light jacket did little to ward off the mixture of temperature and chills. Hanging onto the door jamb to her right and the frame of the passenger door at her left, she took another deep breath and exhaled as she stood knowing that using her breathing effectively would help her move more easily. Digging her heels into the ground, she pushed with her quads, pulling herself up with her left arm. Her head swam as the dark spun around her momentarily. Once her breathing returned to normal, she found that it was possible to remain standing without holding onto the car. However, standing and moving were two different things and she had no illusions about her first steps. Sidling against the panel between the passenger front and back doors, she let the front door close under its own weight. Once her eyes had adjusted to the darkness of the open field, she tried to orient herself. The only lighting seemed to be from the street lamps on the road alongside the ditch and from the residential neighborhood to the northeast, providing only indirect illumination. She chose an east/northeast direction and set one foot in front of the other, instantly finding that holding her left side aided her breathing and the jostling movements of walking. With each plodding step, walking grew easier, but it did nothing to ward off the cold. She would have been more concerned about the fact that her teeth were chattering if she wasn't also worried about how much farther her legs would carry her. She began to desperately hope that the boardinghouse was on the end of the street closest to her current location. She tried to take her mind off the energy she was expending to lift her feet and move forward and to keep her body warm. She stopped to take her cellphone out and immediately wondered why she hadn't thought to call him earlier. The line was busy. Maybe he was calling her? She kept moving, her mind wandering, a little game of self-distraction to help pass the time, to forget about the cold. She started counting her steps, but they didn't move quickly enough to hold her attention. And her mind kept coming back to Mulder. The phone wasn't in her hand anymore and she guessed that she must have put it away, but she wasn't sure why. No matter, she could see the apartment building ahead of her although it was hard to judge just how far ahead. He had said he was going to meet a contact at the Ferry. Did he actually go to Fort Kent? Had he only met the contact on the Ferry and was he back in town? She had no answers, but it was somehow comforting to picture his face. His face…the look on his face when she'd left his room yesterday. Left after massaging him. On his bed. Straddling his hips. She felt herself smiling at the memory, felt herself growing warmer. Yes, that was one way to keep warm… ^*^*^ He did wonder what he'd transported for the amusement of Mr. Zale and Ms. Cummings, but he also needed to find Scully. He'd actually wished he could have called her sooner, somehow managed to pick her up from the lab before he traipsed off to the ferry dock, but he hadn't had the time. She'd understood despite her protests and questions to the contrary. She always understood -- and he felt even more guilty for those times when he didn't call or forgot to call. Felt guilt for the times that she'd found out only when she'd had to rescue him or cover for him or a myriad of other circumstances she'd had to invent and manipulate to save him and preserve their professional hides. For even when she had no part in his original 'plans', he knew that his actions would inextricably link her to him -- especially when he messed up. But those days were hopefully behind him, behind them. Well, behind them since this summer. As he dropped his cell phone onto the passenger seat beside him, he made a left turn onto College Street, wanting to head back to the Given Building. He didn't really think she would still be there, but he also knew that she was as tenacious with her research as he was with his search for the truth. That in fact, her science *was* her version of his search for their truth. And once again he found himself wistfully and not without some chagrin, thinking about how he'd allowed an unconfirmed piece of information, a request for his help, to nearly drive him from Scully for good. More than any side trip to Small Town, U.S.A. could do, his willingness to ride off into the sunset to supposedly help his former partner, had nearly destroyed his current partnership professionally and personally. The personal partnership that was just starting to feel as if it was returning to some semblance of normal. He had to find her. Now. The intensity of it ran straight through his body, and he reacted, depressing the gas pedal even harder. He reached the Given Building in no time, but was disappointed to see no lights other than the external building sensors and halogen parking lot lamps. On the off-chance that she could still be inside, he left the truck running by the entryway and ran to the double doors. Locked. She couldn't still be here. He whirled around, checking out the parking lot, but realized it wouldn't help. He hadn't yet seen her rental car. Instead of wasting anymore time, he jumped back into the waiting truck and sped off. He tried the hotel one more time, but her room phone rang endlessly. No. she'd probably headed for the docks, hoping to catch him there. But that was so long ago now; he'd been there, back to his place and over to Cherry Street. No matter. The distance wasn't that great, it was late on a weeknight and traffic was exceedingly light in the mainly residential and college town area. With the exception of a strip of loosely hung decorative lights, the docks were dark and looming. Business at this wharf was relegated to pleasure craft and transport for commuters and tourists out and around the lake and across to New York. The last arrival was hours ago now. Mulder knew that if she had come here, she was long gone. But why hadn't he heard from her? It wasn't like her to not try to locate him. Except when he purposefully turned his phone off, lost it or -- forgot to turn it on. Given where he'd been headed since he'd notified her, any of those options were possible. With the exception of losing it. This time. But why wouldn't she be answering her phone? She was much more conscientious when it came to staying in touch and, therefore, always had her phone with her. Unless the signal wasn't strong enough or it had been taken from her or she was injured. No. He couldn't allow his thinking to flow in that direction. Heck, she'd already been in the hospital twice since they'd been here. That might even be a Mulder/Scully Hospital Visit record. He turned left onto College Street, finally nearing his boardinghouse, hoping maybe she'd left word for him there. This stretch of the road was open on both sides, no homes or businesses. He hadn't had much time to explore, but the layout was pretty easy to follow, the basic grid pattern of the streets making it simple to get from one place to another. As he glanced from side to side, something caught his eye out the driver's side window. A car laying at an odd pitch in the field. From his location, and due to the fact that he was moving, although he had slowed some to get a better look, the vehicle looked unharmed. He briefly wondered why such a nice looking car would be abandoned in a field, but didn't give it much thought. He was too close to home now and could call it in from there. Chances were that some of the local college kids had driven out here and were exploring the area for some long lost rites of passage. Nonetheless, he grabbed his cell to report the possibly abandoned vehicle to the Burlington PD. Taking another left, he turned onto Pine Street. ^*^*^ She could see the boardinghouse now and it actually seemed close enough to touch. At least to her very cold and clouded thinking brain. It did motivate her to move faster. Moving faster would get her there that much sooner and hopefully warm her up. And get her to Mulder. She hadn't lost her focus on him. It was worrisome and driving. The fact that she hadn't been able to reach him had her thinking almost the worst. The man had more lives than a cat, thankfully, but even within the limits of staying alive, he could come pretty close to disaster. And she was in no shape right now to help him out much. Hell, she couldn't even *find* him. The man's inability to keep track of his phone could be infuriating. No matter. She was here now; he'd be here. She crossed the line of border-setting shrubbery that separated the field from the residential street, pushing closely-knit boughs out of her way, the effort sending minor spasms through her achy body. She stopped, trying to get some much-needed oxygen to her lungs, and glanced at the surrounding homes. Windows lit by the flickering blue/gray of television screen and assorted yellow/white room lights. Families enjoying each other, getting ready for bed on a work or school night. Normal people activities. She couldn't recall the last time she'd thought of her life in terms of 'normal'. Her brief respite had allowed her to catch her breath, but in slowing down had also brought on more of a chill. Rubbing her hands together and then gingerly hugging herself, she headed for the boardinghouse. She was instantly upset when she walked into the lot. Mulder's truck wasn’t there. Hoping that maybe he'd left it at the docks or the construction site, she headed for the outer doors. Locked. Since this was a main entry, she knew it was useless to try the other entrances and exits. He had to be home soon; she hoped. In the meantime, she'd had about all the walking and standing she could take. She was exhausted and shivering again. Shivering hurt; her shoulder, her ribs. She wanted to sleep and even the very cold and hard concrete stoop seemed inviting. She sat down on the top step and leaned into the wrought iron railing. Even the widely spaced vertical posts didn't seem uncomfortable as she huddled into herself. Soon growing tired of that position, she found that drawing her heels close to the back of the step below her and scooting forward allowed her the support she needed to bend over and rest her upper body on her thighs. For some reason she wasn't about to question, nor had the strength to care about, even her ribs didn't protest. She was asleep in no time. ^*^*^ He swung the truck into the lot and pulled into the spot designated for his apartment. Having picked up the cellphone and opening it, about to call his partner again when he saw someone passed out or sleeping on the back steps. He recognized the red hair even in the poorly lit darkness. Knew it was she. Breaking into a run, he tried to pocket both his keys and the phone. "Scully! Oh, god, Scully!" He squatted down in front of the steps, one hand brushing her hair from her face, his other at her neck searching for a pulse. He sighed in partial relief as he found it pulsing strongly. Leaving her neck, his hands quickly and efficiently scanned the rest of her body as he continued to call her name, hoping to rouse her. "Mmm…what? Huh?" Her hand came up to her face and then dropped to the cement below her. "Scully, it's me. Can you sit up? Are you hurt? What happened?" Although her voice was barely audible, there was no mistaking the firm and reassuring tone when she told him, "Can you limit your questions to one at a time, Mulder?" Laughing, he moved to sit beside her, carefully wrapping an arm around her and drawing her to him. Hearing her dryly witty question relieved him. "You're freezing. Let me get you inside." It wasn't until he was moving her against him that he heard her whimper and saw her eyes scrunched shut. A sure sign that she was hurting. "Forget inside, you need the hospital, and I'm calling 9-1-1." She reached up to close his cellphone. "You don't need to do that, Mulder. I'm really fine, just sore. Make that *very* sore. Just get me home." Before he could respond, telling her that the only place she was going was up to his room, he phone chirped. "Mulder" "That's all right, Officer, she's here with me, but thank-you. Yes, please have it towed and repaired." He snapped the phone closed, the look in his eyes dead serious and fraught with concern. 'Fine', my ass, Scully... She knew that look. Knew that it was born of his love for her, but also out of his frustration that once again, she'd not told him everything right away. "They found my car." She didn't ask; she knew. "Care to explain? Or is this some new hobby of yours, driving off the road and wandering around cold and injured?" If he noticed the sharp tone in his delivery, he didn't care. Why hadn't she called him? Why hadn't she called 9-1-1? What the hell happened? She tried to pull away, to sit up straight, but he held her to him which struck her as a contradiction. She could understand his anger; he was always afraid when she was hurt. But it was almost as if there was an internal debate going on in his head; he couldn't decide whether he wanted to be mad or very glad that she was alive and safe. She knew that he was a man of deep, albeit sometimes conflicting emotions. So, she relaxed back against him, giving in to just how good it felt. She was safe. "I was run off the road. I don't know by whom, didn't recognize the vehicle and couldn't see the driver. May have been the same person I think is following me-" She trailed off, that much talking tiring her. A fire seemed to flare in his eyes at her last words, but he said nothing. He didn't need to; he knew she'd understand without the words. He helped her stand and, they headed inside. He walked with his arms around her awkward as it was, but it seemed to lessen her shivering to a dull shuddering. When they reached his apartment, he guided her to the couch and eased her onto it. The brighter light revealed the extent of her bruising, but not the shoulder and ribs injuries. His hands gently held her arms as he knelt between her legs and asked what else hurt. Forestalling her usual rejoinder, his hands moved to her shoulders, his fingers gently probing over her lightweight jacket. "We need to take this off, Scully, so I can get you warm." For the briefest flash of a non-existent moment, their eyes locked at his words, his literal meaning and their implied meaning traveling between them. She lowered her head first, the color and heat in her cheeks in no way due to the warmer temperature of his apartment. She knew he'd read her reaction, but was thankful that for now, he said or did nothing about it. She moved to allow him to help her remove the poplin jacket, only wincing once or twice. "Slide forward and lean back a little so I can check your ribs." His voice was so nearly like her second nature 'Doc Scully' tone that she had to smile. He was doing his best to make sure she would be comfortable. Didn't he know how impossible that was? How being this physically close to him, even when she was hurting, was more than a little distracting? His hands were almost hot against her skin as he unbuttoned the shirt from the hem to just below her bra. He unintentionally sucked in a deep breath at the new colors sprouting on her porcelain skin. "You're a regular rainbow, Scully." "Is that your professional opinion, Doc?" She gritted her teeth as he tried to determine just how far the bruising stretched. "Your bedside manner could use some work, Mulder. Ow!" Ignoring her sound effects, her re-buttoned the shirt and leaned forward, his hands on her hips. "I think you'll live, but I'm gonna help make it better in the meantime." His lips lightly brushed her forehead, each eyelid and her nose. "Is it helping, Scully?" Not waiting for an answer, he kissed the cheek without any bruising and then, before she could answer or protest or both, he kissed her mouth. And felt her sigh as she relaxed under his hands. Her hands held onto his shoulders as the heat spread like warmed honey swirling through her body, starting to take her breath away. She must be tired and still somewhat delirious if this one kiss was having that effect. What was she thinking? Most of Mulder's kisses had this effect on her. But she drew back; ending it before it grew into something much more than her aching body would allow. "I should go home and rest, Mulder." She started to get up, but he held her in place. "No; you're not going anywhere right now. Your body's been shaken pretty badly, so you can take the bed and I'll use the standby couch." Hoping she wouldn't notice, he looked at it askance. But she had noticed as she glanced at him and then at the two-seater. "You can't sleep on this, let me take it." "No can do, Scully. I'll make-do for one night. You need solid rest." He stood, one arm extended in a gesture to indicate she had the 'bedroom'. After an assist, she was standing and heading for the bathroom. Always the helpful partner, Mulder handed her one of his tee-shirts to sleep in. "Scully?" She turned toward him, her eyes nearly slits. "Yes, Doc? Did I miss some of the prescriptive orders?" He couldn't help the smile that lit his face. She had to be doing better than he'd thought if she could banter with him. She noted the change from his boyish smile to his 'I'm about to say something very serious look' when he responded, "Only the one about us talking about you being watched. I'm not taking no for an answer. Tomorrow over breakfast--" "You cook, too, Mulder?" "--over breakfast before I go to work, you have some serious questions to answer." ^*^*^*^ Thursday, 21 September 5:00AM For some reason, the last leg of his run was much more tiring than usual. He'd hit his stride about a quarter of the way into it and dug his heels in. He was hauling ass. Figuring he'd probably pushed from his cardio training zone and moved to the sprinting or anaerobic phase, he tried to slow himself down again. Only ten miles this morning in relative darkness and almost total silence. Most of the town was either still sleeping or slowly awakening to the work or school day. It was peaceful, a time to think and reflect. Mulder started to string together the various bits and pieces of his time in Burlington -- all two weeks so far. It really felt like so much longer and he tended to divide it up into 'before he saw Scully in the Club' and 'after he saw Scully in the Club'. For convenience, of course. He pictured her lying on her side in his bed, barely stirring as he got dressed. He hadn't wanted to wake her; she needed her rest at this point. No, he'd wanted to pull back the blankets and slide his boxer-clad body up against her tee-shirt covered form. But, he quickly deep-sixed that train of thought. Running was painful enough when he was tired; he didn't want to have to carry around a very solid reminder of his 'roaming thoughts'. Catching his breath, he lifted one leg until the heel of his shoe was on the top step and bent over the extended leg. His hamstrings were tight again. He just added the muscles to the growing list he hadn't really been taking the time to stretch lately. Finishing with the other leg, he stood and grabbed one foot behind him, bending his knee. Surprisingly, his quads weren't as tight. As he completed his stretching circuit, his mind focused on the talk he and Scully were about to have. The talk where he was sure she would employ avoidance to throw him off what had really happened. Oh, she didn't really want to keep anything from him, but it wasn't in her nature to ask for help or express anything that might make it appear that she couldn't handle the situation herself. He knew that. But he also knew that *any* person dealing with this group needed back up. Skinner knew that and signed her on. Well, maybe what Skinner knew was that she would keep an eye on him. He walked quickly to the elevator and made it upstairs in no time. He found her sitting cross-legged on the bed, the newspaper spread out before her on the blankets. Her longer hair tucked behind her ears, glasses perched on her nose, she was deeply engrossed in something. Realizing, but not really caring that the quite obvious once over he gave her could earn him 'the look', he trained his eyes on her face. And then they drifted again to that spot where her tee -- make that *his* tee, didn't quite cover her legs, allowing him enough of a glimpse of her panties to cause his breath to hitch and his sweaty shorts to feel a little restrictive. "Morning, Scully." She glanced up from the headlines and smiled. "Morning, Mulder. Good run?" He nodded and then tipped his head slightly, his chin jutting forward toward the paper. "Whatcha reading?" Folding it in quarters, she tossed it to him, telling him to check out the lower left-hand corner of page 15. One hand on his hip, he held the folded section in front of him. She could see the quirked eyebrow, questioning the same thing she had. "Looks like my contact is a civic leader, huh? Wonder just how far his connections into the community go? All it says here is that he's chairman of the Burlington home office of the Bank of Boston. Also sounds like he's pretty well-respected." Setting the article down on the back of the couch, he smiled at her. "You're supposed to be resting." "How convenient that he's connected to an institution that legally deals with cold hard cash, not to mention, reserves. And I *am* resting and I slept too late. I've got work to do," she informed him as she slid off the bed. Turning her back to him, she bent to straighten the spread. Her inward smile was the only give-away to the fact that she could feel his eyes wander over her before he explained that the housekeepers would make the bed and tidy up. "Housekeepers, Mulder? In a boardinghouse?" She laughed and then felt his hand on her elbow turning her toward him. Her breathing caught briefly as his presence washed over her like just so many memories. Memories of times when their relationship didn't seem so complicated. When their relationship seemed *less* complicated. Theirs had never been truly easy. But, she supposed, nothing really good in life ever was. His physical proximity was intoxicating in a warm and comfortable and hot and exciting way. No one she'd known before had ever been able to arouse her the way he could -- to anger and to depths of love. "We have to talk about how your car ended up in that field." The creeping color in her cheeks didn't escape him. "Let's sit down." Taking the afghan from the foot of the bed, she turned back toward him. A simple gesture, really, she took his hand and led him to the couch. The soft throw was pulled up around her as she sat back into the corner cushions, wondering just how he'd slept on the sofa last night when they were nearly right next to each other seated. He waited. Patiently. Watching her gathering her thoughts, processing information, the occasional furrowing of her brow the only indication that she was putting the pieces together. She was strong; exceedingly strong, he amended, especially when he considered all she'd been through since they'd known each other. He closed the door on that line of thinking, knowing he was prone to self-recriminations. "The car was red; a late model Jetta, I think. I'm pretty sure I was followed from the lab." He thought about her there, waiting for him… She continued, possibly devining his thoughts by the subtle change in his features. "Once we hit the open stretch, the driver pulled alongside me. You know the rest." "What else? Something else happened. Tell me." Her hesitation and the way she pulled into herself had alerted him. "I don't have any proof, but I think I was watched all day; or at least since I got to the lab this morning." She noted his silence in words, but his eyes were telling her that she should continue, that he would accept whatever she had to say. "I don't know. I guess I'm just a bit on edge after the Marketplace on Sunday. It's probably nothing more than my over-active imagination," she finished with more conviction. Watching him watching her, she was sure he was formulating some wry comeback and was just waiting for the right time to let it fly. But he surprised her by refraining, at least verbally. The tiny wrinkles at the corners of his eyes told her he was barely holding it back. Looking down, she realized she'd never let his hand go. The warmth of the skin-skin contact was soothing and comforting and felt as good as the promise in his eyes. "I'm keeping an eye on you, G-Woman. Something about this doesn't feel right and I don't like it. I would think the men in black have already given you and me their basic messages. They know we're linked, they've acted. This just feels like something else entirely, but I'll be damned if I know what." "Well, I'll be careful as usual, but now I've really got to head back to the hotel and get dressed. I'm meeting up with Kimberley today." Tossing off the afghan, she started to stand, pulling her hand away from him. And ended up sitting right back down with a plop. "Mulder..." He brought her hand to his lips and lightly brushed her fingertips with his lips. Holding her gaze, he told her he was off to the shower and would phone her at lunchtime. ^*^*^*^ Stenhauser Construction Site Thursday, 21 September 8:00AM Slug's familiar face shown like a utility light as Mulder swung the F-150 into the chain link fenced yard. Grabbing his lunch pail and hard hat, he got out of the truck and headed to the office trailer. Setting the hat on his head, he climbed the wooden steps two at a time and was about to open the door when the owner's son appeared. Jason was holding Mulder's timecard, waving it in front of him. "Looking for this, Chris?" "Well, yes, thought I was supposed to punch in each morning. Has the routine changed since Friday?" He reached for the card that was held just out of his reach. And he was not up for game playing. Before he could speak further, he looked sideways at Jason's arm on his shoulder. "Mr. Arsenault, we no longer have any need for your skills. But, we like to take care of our own, so we've got another assignment for you." There was something in Jason's tone that set Mulder's teeth on edge, but he steeled himself to a more neutral demeanor. "Oh? Was there something the boss didn't like about my work?" Smiling solely with his lips, the younger Stenhauser shook his head ironically. "No, no, Mr. Arsenault, you're not being reassigned due to poor performance. Quite the contrary. My father's friends have much better, more lucrative work for you. The hours are better, too, as is the travel. Show up at this address tomorrow. Take today off with pay." Well, the day had certainly taken an interesting turn, but he was now be handed the opportunity to move further into the organization. ^*^*^ Bank of Burlington Board Room 9:00AM The Short Round Man, a.k.a. Bishop Stillman, was the last to sit, a steaming mug of coffee in his hands. He nearly doused his new suit jacket with it when he reached up to return an errant long strand of hair to its proper side of his head. Glancing at the brass wall clock, he nodded toward the security guard at the door. When he was satisfied that the deadbolts had been activated, he cleared his throat and without further preamble, he began. "Gentlemen, Proteus could not attend our special meeting today, so he's asked me to relay the instructions." The men exchanged curious glances and then turned, as one, back to the boss's stand-in. When he felt he had their full attention, he laid out the information. "Proteus has added a new apprentice member to our group. He shows much potential and has successfully passed both the initiation and test periods." The younger Stillman brother spoke first. "When do we meet this guy?" "Some of you already have, I believe. It's Chris Arsenault; the guy from the Metronome and the construction site?" A few eyebrows raised, but head nodding was the major response. Ben then asked his brother if he had any pictures of the recent addition, but none were available. "I'm going to have him do some work with the Zale-team initially; most likely working with the couriers. He'll work the docks area and, if all goes well, we'll move him into the international trade." As an afterthought, he added, "I'll set up a Friday a fternoon group meeting at the usual and you can all meet Chris." ^*^*^ Around Town 9:30AM The truck was buffeted by the cross-winds as they slammed into the flatbed and the rocker panels alternately, requiring Mulder constantly compensate, fighting the steering wheel to keep the vehicle within the confines of the road. And, as if that wasn't enough, the sheeting rain nearly blinded him, making the trip from Essex Junction back to Burlington nothing short of a grueling event. The prospect of his new 'assignment-within-an-assignment' was exciting; something to write home about, or at least call his boss about. He belatedly remembered that it was about time for a call and was rather surprised Skinner hadn't already called him to chew his sorry ass. Actually, that usually wasn't the A.D.'s style. As the years flew or trudged by, depending on one's perspective, Mulder had discovered that his supervisor really was much more than that. He'd often found a way to gather information he was not supposed to know about, let alone, have and had certainly saved them both; from other forces and from themselves. 'Well,' Mulder silently amended, 'saved *me* from myself.' So, delaying a report call would not be in his best interest. Pulling over by the side of the road, for the weather made using his cell while driving very precarious, he was quickly connected with Kimberley. "Kimberley, it's Agent Mulder. Is he in?" "Sir." Mulder's voice held the slightest trace of a smile as he imagined the set of his superior's jaw. "I wanted to fill you in on the Proteus Case." The terse reply told Mulder that his boss wasn't having the best of days. Unconsciously sitting up even taller in the seat, Mulder watched the wiper blades track across the windshield, now barely able to keep pace with the downpour. "Sorry, Sir; that's my own reference." Sensing that Skinner needed decisive brushstrokes with none of the usual conjecture, he filled him in on everything in reverse chronological order from his most recent new assignment back to the meeting with Tanner Roscoe, Jemel and Mr. Zale. The sharp intake of breath in his ear told him he had the A.D.'s full attention. The warning in his tone was as subtly obvious as it was in his words, carefully chosen, He knew the parameters, knew how far he could stretch them, where his safety net was, but, most importantly, he knew that his maverick methods netted one of the highest resolution rates in the Bureau's history. But, Skinner had just drawn the line in the sand, showing Mulder exactly how far over it his boss would allow himself to step. "Yes, Sir; we do." The change is the A.D.'s tone was discreet, but he heard it nonetheless. "She seems pleased with her work in the lab and has recently made some discoveries as to the properties of the paste substance. I'm sure she'll update you." "The answer is 'no'." "'But', she was run off the road last night. She's doing much better than the rental. I thought it might be connected to the same group that hit her last Sunday, but it doesn't feel right. It was too soon after the initial test." Before Mulder could respond, his boss added, He hung up before the Agent could comment. Or jibe. ^*^*^ Before he could pull back out into traffic, his cell rang. "Mulder." Mulder had to laugh. Even in dark moments, the pint-sized LGM could bring out a smile. "At least I'd be able to see over the top of the barrel, little man. What's the latest conspiracy news today?" He could hear Langly in the background muttering about some software program he was probably trying to develop. The enthusiasm in his voice was about as subtle as a Mack truck. "You didn't call me to ask about Scully." And if Mulder thought he could evade the question, he was sadly mistaken. Frohike's voice lowered, grew serious. As did Mulder's, but with the added edge of warning, "Now,'Hike." The sound of scuffling and murmuring intermingled with words of varying colorations preceded the switch from Frohike to Byers on the phone. "Byers?" He felt as if he were at an old time Saturday matinee -- rainy day, homemade popcorn, black and white comedy feature, The Three Stooges, maybe? Mulder knew better than to rush them, but the rain was starting to let up and he had places to go and people to see. "Byers? Hey! You're supposed to be the sensible one in that fraternity. Can I get some answers here?" Mulder didn't know whether to laugh or hang up. Fingers drumming impatiently on the dashboard, he started whistling. Blissful silence hung in the airspace between them. The Agent actually groaned as his hand came to his forehead; fingers massaging a headache he was sure must be forming. "They got to you, too, Byers? Please tell me it isn't so." Frohike had grabbed the phone back from the more conservative Gunman. Mulder wasn't even aware of the fact that he'd just slammed the steering wheel with the heel of his hand until it started to throb. How the hell did life always get so complicated? ^*^*^ Radisson Hotel 10:00AM It was strange and rather silly, really. She hadn't heard from her sister's friend in a few days -- four to be exact. Ever since their 'discussion' about Kimberley's interaction with the unidentified man in the fancy sportscar. So much had happened in the last four days, but she really thought she should make amends for whatever may have started to come between them. Scully mentally pieced together what she'd seen and heard. At first glimpse, it pointed to her friend's involvement in some elicit or at least, illegal, operation. However, when she stopped to consider the Canadian's law enforcement connection, she realized it was entirely possible that the woman was investigating just as she and Mulder were. Getting no answer at the Church Street home, her next call was to the Burlington Police Department. Asking directly for the Chief, she was connected to Alana Ennis' office. "Chief Ennis, here. May I help you, Agent Scully?" Her voice rang clear and bright -- quite the counterpart to the raging winds and sheeting rain outside the large windowpanes in front of the FBI Agent. Not hearing any response, Scully continued, "May I ask why you're looking for her?" Scully could hear the slight change in tone, the professional guard rising. "Say no more, Agent Scully, Officer Kresge is indeed here. Shall I put her on the line?" She was glad the drive was a short one. The sheeting rain seemed to be hitting the windshield perpendicularly. It seemed to rain here almost as much as it did in Seattle. She had done her homework since finding Kimberley in town. The Ontario Provincial Police represented one of the largest deployed police forces in North America, and their expertise in areas such as forensic identification, behavioral sciences, criminal intelligence, e-crime and drug enforcement had earned the OPP recognition in providing sophisticated specialized criminal investigative services. Kimberley had risen through the ranks with meteoric speed and equally astounding success. Beginning her career in Aurora in the Greater Toronto Region, she had started patrolling the City of Toronto's Provincial Highways, some of the busiest in the area. However, she hit her stride with her investigative expertise and it wasn't long before the higher-ups in the Investigation Bureau sought her. Working in partnership with the OPP regions, bureaus, municipal police and other government agencies, she soon moved into solo case management with a staff assigned to her. Having seen more than her share of street crime, often brutal and more often linked to drug sales, she worked hand in hand with first the Provincial ViCLAS (Violent Crimes Linkage Analysis System) Program and, most recently, Drug Enforcement. Scully was impressed. Their combined experience and training could prove indispensable. Now all she had to do was move the relationship back to where it had been prior to whatever it was she had witnessed from Kimberley's shrubs... ^*^*^ Mulder's F-150 10:30AM After what seemed like a brief mental paralysis, Mulder reined in his thoughts, once again registering the drumming and pinging of the rain hitting the roof of his truck. He had to get to Scully, had to talk to her. He had to talk to her and he was seriously dreading this conversation. Dreading the crestfallen look he knew he'd see in her eyes. Knew that she wouldn't have to say a word for him to know that she'd be angry and hurt and…disappointed? Oh, yeah, he was pretty sure of that one. But, he'd vowed he wouldn't keep things from her, that he'd do his best to share with her, talk things out. He'd always known that together they were everything, their skills, their expertise, their uncanny ability to communicate so much made them much larger than the sum of two separate but equal parts. But, for some reason, not even he seemed to be able to fathom, he occasionally resorted to doing that which he deemed 'best' for her sensibilities. The fact that he was rarely correct in his predictions had often escaped him. Until this summer. This summer when his poor judgment had earned him a number one spot on his partner's blacklist. And he'd only moved *up* to the blacklist after she was willing to recognize his existence. He had deserved it. He had learned from it that which deep down he had always been aware of -- together meant discussing things together before acting on her behalf. And who was he kidding? The real root to that problem was that he'd acted based upon what Special Agent Diana Fowley had told him. Of course, that had almost meant that he'd acted without considering Scully's advice or concerns. No more. He wouldn't risk their partnership in all its various levels. He had to tell her about Diana. How? ^*^*^ Burlington Police Department 1 North Avenue When she pulled into the parking lot, she saw the SUV parked in the Special Visitors area and she backed in next to it. Scully had managed to rent a late model Maxima while her Sebring was being repaired. That was fine with her; she wanted no reminders of the lack of defensive driving skills that had allowed her to be literally driven off the road. She made her way to the main reception area noting the clean lines and spit and polish of the station. The Chief ran a tidy ship. She barely made it to the counter when she saw Kimberley and Chief Alana Ennis approaching, chatting amiably. The older woman's broad smile and sparkling blue-green eyes were capped by reddish brown chin length hair. "Agent Scully, I presume?" The two law enforcement officers extended hands. "Dana, good to see you." Scully noted the genuine smile and returned it. "Same here, Kimberley. I was hoping we might be able to talk about the case I've just been assigned. Is there someplace--?" The Chief was already a step ahead, ushering them to the conference room down the hallway behind the reception area. "I'd like to put our contingent at your disposal, Agent Scully, Lieutenant Kresge. If there's anything I can do, you be sure and let me know." She had turned to go, but Scully reached out for her, a hand on her shoulder. "Why don't you join us? We could use your perspective on the city and some of the local ambiance." The three women settled around the end of the oval table, notebooks and portfolios open, pens poised. It was Burlington's Chief who spoke first. "Our department strategy and philosophy is community based, problem-oriented policing. It is a strategy that emphasizes partnerships, problem solving and prevention. 'Problem-solving' means looking beyond the incident in order to identify underlying problems which, if addressed, will eliminate or abate the condition. What are you telling me the underlying problem is here?" Kimberley toyed with the sapphire ring on her right middle finger, spinning it around with her thumb. She reflected that new situations brought out this behavior. 'Flick and Fidget' was the term Bryan used. He'd coined the term since he'd been the first one to notice it. She wasn’t easily thrown, but investigating drugs always had that effect on her. Her earliest experiences, especially along Highway 401 in Toronto, had prepared her. Although most of her work in that area involved road safety issues, she had also had the need to pull vehicles over for speeding. In the course of ticketing, she'd uncovered the occasional stash. The reports she'd seen cross her Section Chief's desk seemed to indicate an ever-increasing, if not rampant, problem in their region. It was at that point that she'd moved over to the Investigative Bureau. Able to divide her attention and focus almost simultaneously on multiple facets, she was able to jump right back to the question posed by the Burlington Senior Officer. "The underlying problem as I've heard it is your fair city's use as a portal for out-of-state and possibly out-of-country traffic. We've suspected for the last six months that an underground group is sending out feelers in our community, as well as throughout the Niagara region. I've suspected that the Falls site has seen some border crossing activity." Scully's lips were pursed, her brow furrowed with concentration as she jotted notes. Drawing together Kimberley's information, she reached a decision about how the nature of their working relationship -- the Canadian Investigator would compliment the Bureau's team. Whatever she'd thought she'd seen and heard would have to wait. Although she knew without a doubt that it wouldn't leave her mind until she'd figured out the connections. For now, working on face value was what this case needed. ^*^*^ Mulder's F-150 10:30AM It was strange how the memories surfaced -- especially on the heels of trying to figure out how to tell Scully about Diana... It had to be the rain… Inside the cab, the temperature was comfortable, not at all like the rawness of the day beyond the metal and glass of the truck. The intermittent rain reminded him so much of another time as he navigated the mid-morning weekday traffic heading toward the docks. Mixed and mingled images flashed behind his eyes, at first in the black and white of rain on pavement. Her hair nearly straightened and plastered to her head in the torrential downpour, his feet squishing in his shoes on the hot and puddled sidewalk, wet lips, one of the most off-key versions of Happy Birthday he'd ever heard… She had left a message on his machine and even with the passage of time, he smiled at his vivid recollection of her words, "It's me. Meet me one block south of Joe's Pizza and Pasta on Lee Highway. Six o'clock sharp, Mulder. Don't be late." The slight lilt in her voice, just a glint of humor -- he'd almost been able to 'see' her small smile. October 13, one year ago. It had been very warm, although the rain had fallen on and off all day. It had been coming down hard as he dressed in lightweight tan khakis and a chocolate brown Henley. He'd been intrigued and found he hadn't been able to stop smiling himself as he slid his feet into his Docksiders. His partner had been up to something. He'd been interested and intrigued. Had been sensing a slight shift in their relationship and had often found himself contemplating the possibilities. Amazingly, he'd arrived before her. A good practice when one had no idea what was about to happen and one wished to take the surprise out of the...surprise, so to speak. In his haste, he'd left his windbreaker home, assuming the rain would let up, so he'd ducked under the eaves of a law office two doors down from the designated meeting place. She had stepped out of the cab, pulling up the hood on her cropped rain jacket as she'd paid the driver. A very uncharacteristic Scully in a short jeans skirt and white blouse did little to hide her bare legs and red tennis shoes. For some reason, all he'd been able to think was that she looked 'adorable'. Not a word he'd often associated with the prim, proper and sophisticated G-Woman. The jacket's hood had slipped from her head as she'd turned in his direction and she hadn't bothered replacing it. She'd obviously underestimated the weather as he had. 'Muhhlderrrr', she'd called out to him when she'd spotted him in his hiding place. 'You're early', her voice had given away her slight frustration. 'How can I surprise you?' She'd stomped toward him, her now wet shoes schlomping against the pavement, explaining that she was taking him 'out' for pizza for his birthday, telling him that she thought it might be fun to taste the pizza where it had actually been prepared for a change. "You're soaked, Scully," he'd laughed and reached a hand out to her, attempting to pull her into the flimsy shelter of the overhang. He'd really laughed when she'd looked down at herself and back up at him, replying, 'No shit, Mulder.' For the briefest of seconds, they'd stood facing each other, her hand still in his, somewhat silly matching grins painting their faces. Still at that tentative place where both knew that something was about to happen, but not knowing who would make the first move or even what that first move might have been, he'd stepped fractionally closer. Close enough to join her in the rain, quickly becoming equally drenched. "What a pair, huh partner?' He'd asked her rhetorically as he'd taken her other hand. Her eyes had searched his in response, the light he'd seen there giving him all the inspiration he'd needed. Before either of them had had the chance to analyze what had been about to happen, he'd leaned in and kissed her upturned nose. He'd paused for just a second and when he'd noted that she hadn't backed away nor lowered her eyes, his hands had reached for her shoulders as his lips sought hers. Initially, it had lasted scant seconds--more a touch than a kiss. But it had appeared to him that she'd thought it not enough. Hair dripping in their faces, she'd reached up to touch his face and then his lips with her palm and then her finger. 'Happy Birthday, partner,' she'd whispered right before she'd pulled his head down just a little more and hungrily tasted his mouth. Nearly a full fifteen minutes later, they'd hailed a cab, squooshing themselves into the backseat and heading home. She'd sung to him and he'd almost managed not to wince at the 'special' way she'd interpreted the melody. He'd wondered what she'd thought. Unable to stop his recollections, he'd found himself thinking back to January, to that rather brief, but warm, kiss. She'd smiled knowingly and with a content he hadn't recently seen. This joining had been all that...and more. They'd never had a chance to experience pizza where it had actually been prepared for a change. ^*^*^ Burlington Police Department One hour later "I think we really need to talk with Mulder, too," Scully came to the conclusion that they should pool their now vast resources. It was clear that the Chief was willing to cooperate and put her staff at their disposal. But she knew that Mulder was holding other pieces to this puzzle. It wasn't that she'd forgotten about the undercover aspect of the case, but, weighed against the assistance Kimberley and the other officers could provide, she hoped he'd see the necessity of broadening the circle. "Do you really think Agent Mulder is going to want us involved, Dana?" Scully knew that Kimberley's sole impressions of her partner were based on limited observations. On behavior that while was probably somewhat typical for him, was in no way the sum of who he was as either an Agent or a team player. Although, she mused, Mulder was usually a 'team of one'. While the actual occasions of the patented 'Mulder Ditch' had grown far and few between, he definitely preferred to set his own agenda and methods. A highly skilled investigator, he often lost himself in the pursuit of the truth, making it hard on a partner. The fact that she'd lasted so long as his partner was a tribute both to her tenacity and to his trust in her. "I think we'll just check with him." Scully already had a pretty good idea what his response would be, but she also needed to check in with him. "Mulder, it's me." The smile in his voice was so obvious that she found herself blushing and grinning, making sure to turn away from her companions. "I'm--" <…Fine. I know you are. I just had to ask> He really could be infuriatingly complacent. "Where are you, Mulder?" "Can you come down to the Police Station? Chief Ennis and Kimberley are both here and I think they've got some information that could fill in a few pieces of the puzzle we're working on." Mulder following a lead. This could only mean following the breadcrumb trail behavior. One after another leading to another and then another. His persistence was a major factor in their high case resolution and she knew this one would be no different. It was almost akin to the thrill of the hunt for him. At least she knew where he was. Kimberley didn't need to hear the words to know that Mulder wasn't joining them, but Scully told them anyway, "He's got a lead on the docks." "Not the Fort Kent Ferry wharf?" Alana Ennis' look of surprise was noted by the other two women. "I think that's the place, yes. Should I be concerned?" Scully really didn't need to ask the question as it was evident from the look on her face that she was indeed 'concerned'. Kimberley perched on the edge of the conference table, sitting just behind the red-headed Agent, regarding the Chief as she replied. "Well, about one year ago, we had a rather, shall we say, strange occurrence on those very docks. The case went cold about two months ago. Ended up being responsible for quite the upturn in the local economy; upswing in the tourist trade." Scully had backed up to the table, joining Kimberley, and now two sets of very curious eyes were trained on the third woman. "It was late August, can't recall the exact date, but it was a weeknight, Tuesday I think. It was odd that although it was still the height of the summer tourist season, the docks were fairly empty. Maybe ten people waiting for friends and relatives to come over from New York State. Probably around nine -- the boats run a bit later during high season. "It was a glorious night, clear skies, end of summer warm, spirits high. The music from the bar up the wharf had drifted outside and the folks were moving to the heavy beat as the ferry blasted its arrival signal. "At first no one seemed to notice, but then one of the teens pointed out that the ship's running lights were off and there was an eerie luminous quality surrounding the hull. Again, most seemed oblivious, too high on the prospect of seeing their friends and family and enjoying the warm night. "It wasn't until the ferry docked and the casting ropes were thrown over the moorings, anchoring it, that the first of those waiting grew concerned. As my foot patrol officer told it, the usual hustle and bustle on the top deck as the boat drew nearer to shore was missing. The silence was deafening. "More people huddled closer, straining to catch sight of the arrivals. As the ferry groaned and creaked alongside the planking, the lights in the control house flickered, then went out completely. Although the gangway was lowered, no one stepped off. "That's when the officer ordered the crowd to move back as he approached the short walkway leading to the lower level of the ship. "The long and short of it was that he found no one aboard except for the captain who didn't seem to have any idea how he'd gotten back to Burlington nor where his passengers might be. He knew he'd taken on ten people in Fort Kent, but not a one was onboard then." Scully was on her feet even before Chief Ennis finished speaking, her arms crossed in front of her, head tilted, brow furrowed. "What evidence did your officer find?" Kimberley wasn't far behind her, their questions mirroring each other. The Chief walked over to a locked cabinet and punched in the code. She squatted down to retrieve the two vials and brought them to the table. The three-inch clear glass containers contained a fine white powder, although one had much more in it than the other. Scully picked up one of the vials, her eyes shifting back down to the one left on the table. "Are these substances the same?" "No, Agent Scully. The one you're holding has yet to be identified. The one on the table is cocaine. A rather wild variety laced with another substance we've yet to identify." ^*^*^ Radisson Hotel Late Afternoon She was having a hard time finding all the required items and it was pissing her off. She'd managed to find the Hopback Summer Lightening brew through a foreign distributor in Exeter, Devon. Fox's favorite from his Oxford days. Although she hadn't been a part of those days, he'd shared his fondness for the strong bitter with her. The taste didn't do a thing for her; tasted more like swill, but she knew he savored it. The buttered popcorn would be easy. She'd ordered room service to prepare a special batch that would closely duplicate that found in the best movie houses. They staff had suggested she just go to the movies for it, but she'd made it quite clear that she'd make it worth their while to assist her. It was the signed copy of the book she was waiting on… and getting angrier about by the minute. They were supposed to have delivered it yesterday and twenty-four hours later, she still did not have it. She willed herself to calm down. She still had another day before putting her plan in motion. Although he'd never mentioned it to her, she knew he appreciated the author's works. Sure that he'd appreciate the way he tended to debunk the paranormal. Talking to friends of hers, she'd been guided to 'The Demon-Haunted World' by Carl Sagan. After a cursory read, she'd stumbled upon a few reviews. The Witchita Eagle review from 1996 seemed to say it best,"...Sagan relates many enjoyable tales of scientific discovery that show how learning about the universe allows people to replace mistaken pseudoscience-based beliefs with the more surprising and wonderful truth. Many of today's favorite pop-culture demons are debunked including the mysterious alien visitors who amuse themselves by eviscerating livestock or making crop circles in wheat fields.' Fox would love it; would appreciate her wry sense of humor. No matter, for now. She continued arranging the suite adding touches he'd find pleasing. Not too pleasing. After all, she was supposed to be the main feature of the evening. It was just too difficult, however, trying to decide which she would enjoy more. Having him again or knowing that Scully wouldn't. Maybe one really could have too much of a good thing. ^*^*^ Home of Kimberley Kresge and Bryan O'Connor 24 Church Street Burlington, Vermont 6:00PM "It smells wonderful, Bry. How much longer?" Kimberley balanced the stoneware bowls and plates, stopping to adjust the wheat colored linen tablecloth. As she set them in front of each of the four chairs, she smiled. Having a formal dinner was something they really enjoyed and hadn't done recently. "You're just saying that so I'll let you taste test it. Not going to work this time, Kimber. The Bouillabaisse is fine and you get to taste it with everyone else. Why don't you check on the bread." Wiping his hands on the denim chef's apron, Bryan adjusted the temperature under the French soup/stew. As he turned toward the other counter, he slapped Kimberley's hand away from the large wooden spoon, mouthing 'no', with a smile. He was rewarded with a quick kiss -- and a lightening quick swipe of the spoon from behind his back. She had the cover lifted and the savory seafood concoction to her lips before he could even register what had happened. Wrestling the utensil from her hand, he flung it to the counter, wrapping his arms around her. "You never did understand the word 'no', did you?" He was rewarded with an ear-to-ear grin before her lips locked over his. It was only the light rapping on the metal frame that kept them from sliding to the kitchen floor. "Hello? Kimberley?" Scully's hand on Mulder's arm prevented him from pushing his face against the screen door. She leaned in to him asking if his mother had ever told him it wasn't polite to look into someone's home to which he countered that it was okay because they'd left the door open. Scully smiled as he grabbed her hand and laced his fingers with hers. "Relax, Scully." Much as she tried to remain impassive, she found it hard to keep from smiling at his slightly amused look. She did, however, release his hand just as Bryan approached the door, although she wasn't sure why she'd done so. Knowing that both he and Kimberley had witnessed their rather 'partnerly' tangle in the park, a little hand-holding would probably not surprise her friends. "Come in, dinner's just about ready," their host said ushering them into the living room. "Can I get you some wine?" Kimberley joined them with the pastel colored wine goblets as Bryan went to the wine rack. Grabbing the corkscrew, he joined them. "I hope you're both hungry," Bryan decanted the Cabernet Sauvignon as he told them about their dinner. Mulder's stomach started grumbling, luckily too quiet for anyone but his partner to hear. The smallest quirk of her lips confirmed that she knew about his eagerness to eat. He admitted it to himself; he was hungry and could probably eat at any hour of the day or night. The four sat and chatted amiably allowing the alcohol to settle in producing a warm pre-meal buzz. Mulder's questions to Bryan about his recent landscaping work drew a rather animated response about the latest job at the Witherspoon's. Scully watched the two men, happy that Mulder's ability to draw others out was having a positive effect with her friend's companion. After pouring herself some more, Kimberley held the bottle over Scully's glass, a question in her eyes. A brief nod from the redhead had the host filling her glass as well. "Shall we?" The two women moved into the kitchen, Scully settling onto one of the stools as Kimberley removed the bread from the oven. Setting it onto the counter to rest, she covered it with a dishtowel. Glancing back into the living room, Scully noted that Mulder had made himself at home, one arm draped across the back of the couch, his legs crossed as he slouched into the cushions. He appeared to be raptly engaged in Bryan's recounting of some of his more interesting jobs. Mulder has a knack, she thought, for showing genuine interest in even the most casual acquaintance. At times, she was envious of just how naturally he could fit in if given half a chance. Bryan's outgoing and relaxed attitude worked well with her partner's traits and abilities. Just before she turned back to Kimberley, she caught the wink of his eye and she felt the color rise, once again, in her cheeks. How he could do that to her with nothing more than a look… "Scully? Could you get the salad and bread while I put the stew in a serving bowl?" Before Kimberley could get the cover off the soup pot, Bryan was at her heels. "Hey, this is my show. You two go sit down and let me handle it. Mulder will help me, won't you?" Bryan's hands on Kimberley's hips, he guided her into the dining room. He then returned for Scully who had already set the salad on the ceramic countertop. "You, too. We'll handle this," he said indicating himself and Mulder, who had set his goblet on the counter and joined him. Scully's eyes wandered out to the backyard garden as she sipped her wine. Absentmindedly, she placed the cloth napkin in her lap, laying one hand on it. The sounds of the men's voices turned into so much monotone as the scene relaxed her. Or was it the wine? Either way, she relished the peacefulness of it. "Scully?" The peacefulness was broken by Mulder as he set the bread down in front of her, his face mere inches from hers. "What're you looking at?" She watched with some amusement as he looked to the sliding glass doors behind Kimberley, trying to look for the specific item responsible for her stare. "Nothing, Mulder. Just go finish helping Bryan." Her smile netted a puzzled look from him, but he moved back into the kitchen, just in time to be handed the wooden salad bowl. Serving the Bouillabaisse, Bryan handed each bowl to Kimberley and she passed them along. Mulder served the salad and Scully passed the breadbasket. "This smells wonderful, Bryan." Scully was truly impressed and much hungrier that she would have thought possible. "Do you cook like this every night?" As he filled his own bowl and finally sat, he replied that he did so as often as Kimberley was around for dinner, noting that her job duties occasionally kept her occupied during the dinner hour. For awhile, the only sounds were soup spoons clinking against earthenware or forks in salad bowls and the occasional request for more wine. The ringing phone barely interrupted the meal and Bryan was quick to grab it. "It's for me, I'll take it in the den," was his exit from the group. "Probably another job or one of his crew," Kimberely smiled, "He's got a big job starting tomorrow in the next town over. Can I get either of you anymore; of anything?" Mulder held up his bowl, the look on his face clearly indicating just how much he was enjoying the meal. Kimberley noted that he was quite comfortable acknowledging that he hadn't yet had his fill. No pretenses. She liked that. She also noted and liked the attention he'd been paying Dana on and off since they'd arrived. Nothing overtly 'PDA', but very much 'relationship'. Gestures and looks that conveyed how in synch they were, what he thought of her and, if she were reading him correctly, just how much he wanted to take her home with him. She glanced over at her red-haired friend and noticed her contentedness. And the fact that although she'd finished her seafood stew, Scully was only toying with her salad. "So, how'd you two make out in at the Police Station today?" Mulder had caught the assessing gaze from his partner's friend and met it with a slightly quirky smile. He was enjoying himself immensely, but knew when he was being watched -- even benignly. His gaze then wandered across the table to Scully. Yes, she had enjoyed her dinner, too, but seemed listless, possibly tired. He knew that an opening gambit about their work today might rejuvenate her. He was right. Pushing her plate away from her, she crossed her arms in front of her and leaned on the table. "Actually, I'd say we made quite a bit of headway, wouldn’t you, Kimberley?" "Dana's correct. There seems to be a tie in with some evidence Chief Ennis' staff had collected at the docks about a year ago. We were shown two vials. One definitely crack, the other a white powdery and yet-unidentified substance." Her own face mirrored Mulder's surprised look. "And where have they had the analysis done? What have their tests yielded? Did-" 'Yes, he sees the possible connections', Scully thought, 'just as I did.' "Whoa, partner; I'm wondering the same things. The Chief has been kind enough to allow me further testing." However, Mulder had only been temporarily paused, not derailed when he continued, "Wondering if this powder is the base for the paste substance? If it has any connection to the drug running?" She loved to watch his wheels turn, the sheer energy of his analysis and processing contagious and she found herself shrugging off some of the soporific effects of the Cabernet Sauvignon. However, before she could join him in making the connections, something else that spurred their uncanny abilities to tie up loose ends, Kimberley stopped them. "Paste? From the white, crack-like powder? You're talking about the Toronto case? Where did you stumble on that information, if you don't mind me asking?" The two Agents looked from one and other to Kimberley and back, clearly surprised and definitely quite interested. "What Toronto case?" Scully led the questioning. "Six months back," shocking both Mulder and Scully, she pounded her fist into the table, "I can't believe it didn't hit me when the Chief told us this afternoon! The similarities are so striking, I must have been blind not to have picked up on it sooner." Her vehemence didn't surprise Bryan as much as it did the partners. As he walked back into the room, he caught the tail end of her tirade and pulled up a chair beside her. "I thought we'd already talked about how hard you are on yourself? What's going on? What's this about the Toronto case?" He knew from the way she said it exactly which case she was referring to. It had been a point of contention between her and her superior who felt she'd done all she could to identify the substance. "But I almost had it and then got pulled into that other case. And Bishop, damn him, he was close to giving me more information. Missed opportunities." The other three merely listened, assuming that this was cathartic. Bryan had heard her self-recriminations over this particular case before, but knew that for some strange reason, each successive time seemed to lead to some previously allusive detail surfacing. Scully all but tingled from the startling connection, for the second time today, with her semi-identifiable paste. If she were more awake, there would be nothing stopping her from finding her way into the lab tonight. The feeling of being on the verge of a discovery was almost more than she could contain. And she could tell by the look on her partner's face that he understood. As if she'd reached a silent decision, Kimberley started stacking the bowls as she stood. Directing her gaze toward Scully, she stated, "Tomorrow we piece this together. Much as I'd like to run down to the station now..." "I know, Kimberely, I know." Scully finished her thought and was happy to see her friend's tension ease, a slow smile blooming. "Now that was a breakthrough if I've ever seen one." Bryan took the bowls from her and moved to the dishwasher. "Why don't we move to the porch for coffee?" The mood had shifted as the four made their way to the screened in porch. Mulder noticed Scully's hand as it came up to cover an all-too obvious yawn, her eyes closing tightly. "Ready for bed, Scully?" Catching herself mid-yawn, she elbowed him gently in the ribs. "I'm fine." He joined her on the upholstered wicker settee as Kimberley and Bryan sat opposite them on the matching furniture. "Dinner was wonderful, thanks." Mulder nodded in his hosts' direction, smiling. Kimberley's hand found her way to Bryan's as it lay in his lap. "Thanks, Bryan's a great cook and I love to entertain so we're a good team. I'm guessing the two of you will probably be in town awhile longer? I mean even with our recent breakthrough, I'm guessing there are lots of angles to this case." Trying hard, but not quite succeeding, Scully turned away from Mulder, her drowsiness evident. Her hand covered her mouth as she leaned into the seat back. "Uh, yes we will," Mulder turned toward Kimberely, stifling a chuckle, "but I'm thinking that this evening is drawing to a close for us." Nodding, Bryan and his partner took the coffee back into the kitchen and continued with the clean up from dinner. "Mulder, you didn't have to make excuses for us, for me. It was just a yawn." This time, she punched his arm, eliciting a mock 'ow'. "Just a yawn, Scully? I could see straight to your lungs on that one. Why don't you just admit the wine got to you? You did have quite a few glasses." "You had just as much as I did." "And you're half my size, Dr. Scully, and should know the effects of alcohol based on body weight and--" "Point. Now zip it." She stood only to be pulled carefully and gently into his lap. "Mulder, I--" "You should take a look at the beautiful night sky, Scully." Turning her just slightly, he wrapped his arms around her as she settled in his lap. "I'm looking, but it looks like any other sky at night; dark, stars, the moon." Her voice soft and low voice was barely a whisper. "Then I don't think you're looking at it the right way." Curling his spine he propped his chin on her shoulder, trying to draw her closer. Although she didn't take the hint, his words ended up having the desired effect anyway. "Mulder, there's no 'right way' to look at the sky. What are you talking about?" With a smooth assurance borne of confidence and longing, Mulder reached for her face as she commented, his fingers gently brushing over her cheeks, stopping at her jaw-line as he sealed his lips over hers. Her sweet sigh nearly melted him. But not as effectively as the subtle shifting of her hips against the hard ridge of his growing arousal. His heart pounding, he broke the kiss to mutter in her ear, "Jesus, Scully," as his hands slid to her waist, squeezing and massaging as his fingers trailed under her shirt. Panting, one small hand palmed his chest, as she sought his moonlit eyes. Suddenly, her other hand flew to her mouth trying to cover the yawn she couldn't seem to prevent. It did little to staunch the rising swell of heat in him, but didn't stop him from husking out, "You sure do know how to show a guy a good time, partner." Recovering rather quickly from her drowsy display, Scully murmured her apology in his right ear, followed by a series of tender kisses to his ear, nose and each eyelid. "Maybe we should go. I feel like a couple of horny college students making out between classes." "You're horny, Scully?" She could clearly hear the mischief and barely restrained arousal in his tone. "Mulder." Her usual ability to distract him with one word wasn't working. "Come home with me, Scully." "That's not a good idea." "I like the idea; a lot. And so does Mulder, Jr." As if to emphasize his point, he took her hand and laid it against his fly. Her sharp intake of breath told him she felt the same way he did. "Hey, you two, care for an aperitif?" Bryan stopped at the threshold of the porch, leaning in just far enough to be heard. Scully quickly stood, her legs barely supporting her. "Uh, nothing for me, Bryan. As a matter of fact, I think we need to leave. It's getting late and I think the wine and long hours today have taken their toll." She hoped her voice didn't sound quite as high and shaky as it felt to her. "No problem, can we send you home with some Bouillabaisse?" It was Mulder's turn to test his vocal chords. "Sure, I'd love that." He watched as Bryan headed back for the kitchen and then took Scully's arm. "You're not getting away that easily, you know that, don't you?" The husky edge to his tone sent a thrill coursing through her and she shivered in the unseasonably warm autumn night. "I know I've got to get home and get some sleep. My body still hasn't recovered entirely, Mulder." Taking his hand in hers, she squeezed his fingers. "But I do know that I'm not getting away that easily." ^*^*^ Radisson Hotel Friday, 22 September 3:15AM Tossing and turning didn't begin to describe how she'd spent the last several hours. Shrugging off the comforter and blanket, she sat up. Her camisole and running shorts were twisted and hiked, but she barely noticed. Letting out a huffing sigh, she got out of bed and padded, barefoot to the bathroom. Filling a glass with water, she sipped it at first and then gulped the rest. When she found herself setting it back down on the marble counter with significant force, she realized it was time to assess her current state. 'Current state', she mused, what a euphemistic way to put what she was experiencing. Plain and simple, she was frustrated. And although the fault could be laid at her feet, she knew he understood. She'd had her chance. Hell, she'd had plenty of chances, but some misplaced sense of who-knew-what had prevented her from letting herself go enough to admit it. She wanted Mulder. She needed him. And they were in separate locations and even worse, in separate beds. 'And who the hell do you have to thank for that, Dana?' Oh, she'd had her rational and perfectly plausible reasons and, her inner voice added, excuses. She wanted to be very sure that what they had was truly lasting, a real commitment after this summer. How many more times and in how many more ways did he have to show her he was sorry? How much more genuinely accommodating did he have to be? Was she waiting for his offer on a silver platter? She knew he'd probably give her that, too, if she really wanted it. What was worse was that he really seemed to be okay with all the stops and starts and the conditions. She didn't want to know how long that would last. How long before he rightfully told her he would wait no longer. She didn't think she'd last as long as he might wait. Her look of consternation was nothing compared to the way her body felt. Tense. Coiled tighter than a spring. Thrumming. Hot. She was more turned on than she had been recently -- unless you counted about four hours ago at her friends' home. Where she'd nearly let herself be swept away by her partner's touch, his lips and fingers and very obvious hard length. And his words. His words always had that effect on her. Could totally undo her with nothing to accompany them. She reached for he remote, jabbing it in the general direction of the television, willing herself to become absorbed in whatever was on this time of night. Settling into the couch with her legs tucked up under her, she surfed. Click. CNN News. Click. MASH reruns. Click. Preview of Playboy Channel. Click, click, click. How did Mulder spend so much time in front of the TV? Mulder. He'd probably be asleep on his couch, the droning of the airwaves in the background. Then again, given the length of his couch and his length. His height. Given his height, he wouldn't be able to really get comfortable on that two-seater. She nudged her wandering mind back from the fleeting images created by the linkage of 'Mulder' and 'his length'. No, he'd be in bed. Probably lying half-prone, one leg bent, one arm under the pillow. And her mind set off yet again. Before she knew what she was doing, she had pulled her running shorts off, replacing them with her sweats and thrown her jacket over her camisole. Stepping into her canvas mules, she was halfway to the door when she stopped. And wasn't at all sure when she'd made the decision to visit him. She knew that was exactly what she was going to do. Not giving herself a chance to change her mind, she pocketed the keys to her rental and pulled the door closed on her way out. ^*^*^ Mulder's Apartment Pine Street Boardinghouse 4:15AM Hands on the steering wheel, forehead resting on the textured vinyl, Scully took a few deep breaths, her internal debate in full swing. She had no doubts about being exactly where she wanted to be, but a small swarm of butterflies was forming in her stomach, the rapid fluttering of their wings managing to block all pathways to rational thoughts. She couldn't remember feeling this nervous around him in a long time. 'Nervous' had not been the feeling this summer. No, that had been much more extreme. Nervous was what she'd occasionally felt around him when she wasn't sure if she was reading him right in their early days as partners. It was what she'd occasionally felt when he'd playfully bantered with her, the comments often skirting the fine line between sexual innuendo and innocent joking. It was definitely what she'd felt that New Year's Eve when he'd looked into her eyes and she'd gazed back, both of them knowing what had been about to happen. And what had happened had made her feel giddy with happiness. No, there was no reason she should feel nervous now except maybe that she was planning to walk in on him while he was asleep and join him in bed. And she hadn't done that in a very long time. Was it possible to be out of practice? Was she having 'first time jitters' when it was far from her first time? Halting the potentially endless stream of questions, she shut off the engine and got out of the car, slamming the door unintentionally. Resolute in her purpose, she made her way to the backdoor. Opening and then closing it quietly, she made her way down the hall to the stairwell. Taking the stairs bought her a few more moments to shore up her nerve. She was surprised to hear soft voices and televisions, but then she remembered it was a workday and in the real world, some people followed daily routines. Reaching his door at the end of the corridor, she extracted his key from her pocket. They'd exchanged keys once they'd officially been assigned to work together and she was glad that was the case. Knocking on his door would be counterproductive to what she had planned. Although, she had to admit she did feel a little less than honest about entering without his permission when she knew full well that he was inside. If she'd had any doubts, the flickering white/gray light seeping under the door served as confirmation. Pressing her ear to the door, she heard nothing. He'd obviously muted the sound at some point. Slipping the key into the lock, she turned the doorknob slowly and with some pressure to ensure it would not creak or rattle. Stealth. She felt like a common criminal. One who would not dare enter knowing someone was at home, she mused. Once inside, she set her keys on the runner covering the telephone stand and shrugged out of her jacket. Goosebumps quickly covered her suddenly chilled skin. Her cream colored satin camisole wasn't designed for warmth, the spaghetti straps and loosely flowing cropped shape barely concealing her flesh. The drapey fabric slipped and slid over her already hard nipples. She toed off her shoes and stepped out of them, leaving them by the door with her jacket and keys. From her position, Mulder's form under the blankets was outlined by the slivers of moonlight filtering in through the slatted blinds. Facing away from her and lying semi-prone on his right side, his left leg was bent at the knee, right arm bent and under the pillow, his left arm splayed across the edge of the mattress. The bunched top sheet at his waist marked a separation between his lower half and the visible skin of his abs and back; his white sleeveless tank having risen and twisted leaving an expanse of body uncovered. Scully's mouth went dry as he shifted slightly, his tousled hair and the pre-dawn shadows obscuring his face from her as she approached the foot of the bed. Wetting her lips, she pulled her sweats down over her panties, steadying herself with one hand on the foot-board as she stepped out of the cotton drawstring pants. It was then that she noticed his one calf and slender foot peaking out from under the covers. She'd forgotten just how sexy his feet were, each toe perfectly formed and situated. A small fire along her nerve pathways crowded that part of her brain responsible for telling her legs to move and she stood rooted to the spot, images and sensations flowing over her like warm honey. Musing about kneeling where she was, her hand gently grasping his arch. The soft skin warm to her touch. Planting a small kiss on each toe in turn, her tongue tracing a path from the heel to the soft pad of flesh beneath his toes. Her lips closing over his big toe drawing it into her mouth... And she had to get a grip on her raging and runaway hormones or she would remain at the end of the bed until daybreak. Her destination lay by his side. At least initially. Tiptoeing and knowing it was unnecessary, she made her way to the relatively empty side of the bed. She could just make out his steady breathing, imagining his lips slightly parted. Drawing the blanket and top sheet back, she knelt by his shoulders, her fingers lightly brushing the hair back from his forehead as she leaned in to plant a feathery kiss there. 'So beautiful', she thought. Stroking his cheek with the backs of her fingers, she opened her hand to move a few errant bed-head locks from his temple, kissing him again before moving to his ear. Pursing her lips, she released a puff of air into his ear and then dragged her lips down the curve of it to his lobe. A barely-there nibble before moving to his neck had him mumbling, the sounds unintelligible. "Are you feeling my touches, Mulder?" Her whisper was nearly inaudible, but her smile shone as she watched his lips forming the unknown words. Moving onto her side, her mouth followed the curve of his neck as she alternately nuzzled with her nose and nipped with her lips. Although he continued to sleep, his occasional movements increased. His body beneath the bedding was like a furnace, the thin cotton of his boxers and tank no barrier between them. The sudden feel of him against her top and panties was incendiary. Immediately spooning against him, she resisted the urge to swing her left leg up over his hip. She wanted him to awaken slowly, the arousal building in him as it had in her -- all night. Holding him to her, she let her hand slide over the bared skin of his abs and chest, a shiver of delight running through her as his muscles twitched under her palm. Her index finger circled the shape of his navel as she tongued his the back of his arm sampling the dark and somewhat bitter taste of his skin. Her hips pressed into his ass of their own volition as her toes massaged his calf. She wanted more. She wanted him. Slow was one thing; this was sheer torture of the most arousing type. Which begged the unasked question--who was torturing whom? Dipping her finger into his navel once, she decided it was time for this sexy, sleeping partner of hers to take note of her presence. Now drawing her bent leg up, she let the weight of it rest on his hip. The thin fabric of his boxers interested her. Mulder tended to wear the knit boxer briefs more often than not, so the more traditional, loose-fitting style he sported now was a little surprising. Not that it didn't have its advantages... "What have we got sleeping in here?" She let out a breathy sigh as her hand nudged its way under the low-slung elastic waistband, moving steadily downward to find his half-erect penis. Her lips curled in a predatory grin as he moaned what could have been her name. Shifting yet again, but never losing contact with that which lay beneath his shorts, she sat on her knees against his ass and back, her other hand wandering over his chest, one thumb brushing his nipple. As she gently stroked and coaxed him, she felt the languid motion of his hips as they rocked. She countered his movements with her own, tightening her grip on his now nearly erect shaft and then palming the length of him. "Scuhhlee? S'that you?" Clearer now, although still slumber-induced speech, his words were pillow-muffled. But there was nothing drowsy about the intentional hip thrusting. No, not at all. "It's me, Mulder." A slight variation from her standard. Trying to turn to locate the sound of her voice, Mulder asked, "What're you doing?" the quasi-smirk in his question obvious to her. Her tone soft and low, and her thumb tracing the underside of the head, she answered his question with one of her own. "What does it feel like I'm doing, Mulder?" To further emphasize her query, she moved her hand from his chest to his shoulder, guiding him onto his back. Meeting the still curious look in his eyes, she tugged playfully on the neckline of his tank, instructing him to lose it. It was amazing just how efficiently he was able to comply as the white garment landed on the floor beside the bed. "It feels like you're seducing me, Scully," he paused for no more than a beat and then continued, "Am I right?" "Shhhh...no more talking." Watching his pout as she withdrew her hand from his boxers, she swung her leg up and over his hips, teasing him as she hovered over Mulder, Jr. Before he could further contemplate her actions and location, she leaned forward, her mouth mere inches from his. Lowering herself, her hands on his chest, she touched her lips to him. His hands reached for her ass, his legs propelling them until she was beneath him. 'So much for having the upperhand,' she fleetingly thought. ^*^*^ Scully, his love, his life. He'd missed her, missed them more than he could possibly fathom. And here she was, closer than he'd been able to hold her in a long time. He heard her 'Shhh-ing', but something didn't make sense. Maybe he was still dreaming. He'd dropped her off at the hotel, kissing her not nearly long enough, but genuinely pleased and surprised that she'd seemed to encourage him. However, all too soon she'd been telling him goodnight and walking to the lobby of the Radisson. He'd come home and showered the proverbial cold water wash. It had done nothing to quell the fires she'd managed to stoke tonight. Heck, what was he talking about 'tonight'? It was just one of several 'so close but so far away' connections for them since they'd been in Vermont. God, how he had wanted her. How he'd still wanted her when he got back to the Boardinghouse. Had considered driving himself right back to her hotel and *telling* her just how much he needed to be with her. But he'd stopped knowing she'd had her reasons. Knowing he understood them. Knowing he'd play it on her timeline. Realizing he'd yet to do any laundry, he'd rummaged through his duffel and suitcase until he'd found one of his sole remaining pair of boxers and tees. Not exactly his favorite, but he'd pulled them on, the loose waistband sitting low on his hips, their bagginess comfortable. After all, it wasn't as if he'd had any place to go, anyone special to see. He'd climbed into bed and started channel surfing, but must've fallen into a rare deep sleep. His sleep patterns had always been somewhat inconsistent except for the fact that he never seemed to require or get very much. But, since he and Scully had been together, he'd actually managed to get more than a few full nights of shut-eye. He'd thought tonight might be different, but he'd had no problem. He'd never heard the door and had barely registered anything until she was in bed with him. He'd been sure he was dreaming, albeit a rather explicit and sensory rich dream, but fiction nonetheless. He had been able to smell the scent of her as the imaginary Scully leaned over him to brush his hair from his forehead. Then, he'd felt the very warm, sweet and soft touch of her lips on his eyelids and cheek. It had amazed him just how real her tongue felt along his ear followed by the nip of her lips on his neck. All of it real enough to undo the effects of the cold shower. Not to mention the extremely arousing and realistic heat of her body melded with his, his ass settling back into her groin, a softly slippery top of some sort against his back and her toes pushing into his calf. She had such tiny feet. And then she'd upped the ante. He'd felt her leg rest on his hip as one finger traced his navel and he'd sucked in a breath. She'd had to know he wasn't still asleep, but that wasn't stopping her. He could appreciate her single-minded focus -- especially when it was devoted to him. He'd felt her moving against him, the subtle press of her hips, her nipples rounded points on his back through the fabric that proved no obstacle to the heady sensations. All had contributed to an increasing wake-up call, but he'd found he wasn't quite ready to surface completely from this dream-like drama playing out on his bed. He'd reveled a bit, the essence of her surrounding him, at once comforting and stimulating. Those fingers had once again started moving, venturing just beneath the elastic laying low on his waist and he'd found himself unable to hold still once he'd felt her grasping him. Torture. Exquisite Scully Torture, teasing him fully erect, her hold on him relentless in more ways than one. She'd run her thumb along the ridge of the very sensitive head and he'd nearly groaned at the sudden aching as he lengthened in her hand. She'd obviously come to him with a rather precise agenda. He'd expected nothing less from his partner. And then she'd moved to further her agenda, her hand leaving him momentarily, although the effect hadn't subsided in the least, she'd mounted him, straddling his legs. Her hand had been replaced by the 'close but not close enough' heat at the apex of her thighs as she'd held herself poised over him. Oh, he'd known exactly what he'd wanted to do at that moment, but then she'd placed her hands on his chest and leaned toward him. Her satiny camisole had trailed along his abs like a taunting breath and he could have sworn he'd felt the silk of her panties brush over the tip of his very full erection even though it was still inside his boxers. His tank had already disappeared when she'd commanded that he remove it and the feel of skin on skin had followed. He'd attempted to talk to her, knowing that his voice was often a turn on for her, but she'd 'shhh-ed' him. And then she'd kissed him, tenderly at first. Mulder loved the way she kissed. Kisses that said so many different things, all things he wanted to hear. Over and over and over again. Sometimes, it was as if she were tasting fine wine, sipping and savoring him. Other times, it was as if she were slaking an unquenchable thirst, questing and seeking that which would soothe her need. This was one of those very kisses. Any pretense at 'tender' disappeared as her teeth nipped at his lower lip. He'd attempted to slow her down, but soon realized that she'd meant business as she'd moved her hands to his face, tilting it just so for the best contact. Her lips had parted his and he'd willingly opened to her. She'd been voracious in her pursuit, her tongue entering his mouth without invitation and he'd been just as voracious in his parry to her thrusts. He was drowning in her mouth. And it was hot and wet and heaven. But it was time for him to share in her agenda. Oh, he thought he knew her plan. Knew that she would want him to know just how ready she was for them to resume the last unresolved aspect of their former relationship since she she'd set the pace. He was nothing if not good at reading her signals. He'd read this one loud and clear. And he'd grabbed her and flipped them over until she was underneath him. ^*^*^ Scully somehow managed to move first, her hands finding and tugging at his boxers as he knelt between her legs. She smiled up at him, kissing the tip of his nose as he dropped to his elbows. She knew he was looking to complete their interrupted kiss. She assumed he understood that she wanted what was not so well hidden inside his underwear. This time, it was his question that had her grinning. "Now who's seducing whom?" "The answer, Mulder, doesn't lay with the person on top. You do know that, don't you?" He rocked back on his knees, making it a little more difficult for her to slide his boxers off his hips, but not impossible for her to grasp his now throbbing erection with one hand as it sprung free. He found himself wishing he could see her eyes more clearly knowing she sought his. Although they'd both presumably adjusted to the gray tones and the now faint stripes of dawn peeking through the blinds, she was still mostly shadow and silhouette. He yearned for the evidence of the desire for him he knew he would see in her azure depths. She stroked him from root to tip, gently at first, as the fingernails of her other hand scraped along his hip. "I'm not sure I heard the answer to my question. Cat got your tongue?" He wasn't sure whether it was her words or her grip on him that motivated his response. Maybe it was just the taunting tone in her question that was responsible for the smirk before he told her, "No cat, Scully; only you." And then he swooped down, capturing her mouth first, his tongue dueling with hers in a kiss that had them both panting for their next breath. "Jesus, Mulder," was all she managed as he repositioned himself, his thighs framing her hips. Her chest heaved as she gulped in much needed oxygen, but she knew he could hear the smile in her voice. And he hoped she could make out the smile on his face because he was quite pleased with what he saw. The brief exertion had rendered her hair tousled and wavy, curled tendrils and locks cascading on the pillow about her. Her warmth radiated from her, creating a charged airspace between them. He knew he would simply never get enough of her and poised above her like this gave him an awesome feeling. But he didn't want to observe, he needed to participate. And that meant touching and closing the distance of that charged airspace between them. She drew in a sudden breath as he placed his hands on her shoulders, just resting them there before moving down her arms until his fingers reached hers and they laced together. Leaving one on the mattress beside her, she watched intently as he brought the other to his lips and kissed each finger. When he turned her hand over and tongued her palm, she gasped. But not quite a loudly as she did when his other hand moved to the satin over her breasts, gently tugging the fabric so that it slid back and forth across her already aching nipples. She arched her back, hoping that would end his taunting and turn it into something much more tactile--preferably skin against skin. Mindful of her recent injuries, he hesitated to put any weight on her torso, but Mulder wasn't anything if not inventive and careful. And very turned on by his partner's state of arousal. It was his turn to bite his lower lip and groan when she managed to bend her knees just enough to come into contact with his tented shorts. His eyes closed as he dipped his hips toward the source of the delightful pressure she exerted. "Scully?" She knew he didn’t require any response, so she just continued slowly sliding her heels on the sheet as he moved in counterpoint. If it were possible, and, knowing that he believed *anything* was possible, he was growing harder, the heat almost blazing against her skin. "Mulder." Her breath caught at the sight and feel of him; the flush of his skin and the slight shaking of his arms where her hands touched him, anchoring them. He was humping her legs and his heart was starting to pound in his chest; a wild staccato he couldn't control. Didn't want to control. Only knew he wanted more and if he continued, the night would end prematurely. Sure that his weight was balanced between his legs and arms, Scully separated her knees wanting and needing to feel more of him closer. Much closer. Her arousal fogged mind hadn't, however, recalled the basic principle that said that 'for every action there is an equal and opposite reaction'. Therefore, when his rather prominent erection no longer had the pressure of her against it, he sank rather unceremoniously into her. Knocking the wind out of her and catching her off-guard. But it was her wincing and slight groan that had Mulder acting quickly, rolling off her to one side, his hand on her face, turning her to him. "Scully?" His voice questioning. Catching her breath, one hand covering his and the other going to her torso, she shook her head. "I'm fine, Mulder." "No, you're not." The exchange they'd had countless times during the course of their partnership had her smiling. The truth was, she really wasn't 'hurt', just sore. And he'd had no way of knowing that her bruising was still somewhat sensitive. Only with full pressure upon it. One finger went to his mouth to silence his protestations mid-stream. "C'mere, G-Man." The same finger disappeared momentarily between his lips, his tongue swirling around it. "Mulderrr…" She withdrew the digit, dabbing his nose and eliciting a goofy grin from him. His rather undignified slump over her body had worried him and threatened to jolt him right out of his heightened state. However, as usual, she'd stopped the overly critical committee in his head. "Scullleeeee…" He parroted her, his grin sliding to perfect smirkiness. "Nothing's impossible. You just need to be careful how much pressure you apply to my body--" "Hmmmm, that sounds interesting. Tell me more." "I was about to when you--" "Better than telling is showing." Man of many seasons, his expression became one of mischief. Mischief tinged with the nearly out of control lust that had returned with a vengeance. Daybreak bathed the bed in a wan pink/gray haze around them as she wound her fingers in his hair, attempting to pull him back, to try to look into his eyes. But he had other ideas. Exploration fueled by passion. Heedless of her hold on him, he tipped his face toward her, kissing her mouth and then her cheek. Moving lower he murmured into her neck, the vibrations tingling against her warm skin. "Help me figure out how much pressure is enough." The man could be so thorough. Sometimes it was maddening, but this wasn't one of those times. Her head turned away from him as she felt his fingers on her abs, moving agonizingly slowly under her camisole, staying away from her ribs, making their way in a line from her navel upward. "How about here?" His feather light touch raised goose flesh along its path, bringing forth giggles. "No, that doesn't hurt." "Scully, this isn't supposed to make you laugh." His pout went largely unnoticed when her attention was diverted by the sweep of his knuckles on the underside of her breasts. Followed by his mouth on her nipple over the satin. "I think that pressure is just right, Mulder." Her words were barely audible as she arched to meet his lips and tongue as they wet the fabric. Readjusting his position so that she released her hand from his hair, he cupped her breast, his lips nipping at her. But he needed much more direct contact and knew she did, too. Remembered just how much she loved him to suckle her, to graze her swollen nipples with his teeth when she was close. How his oral ministrations were often responsible for bringing her 'close'. Relinquishing his hold on her momentarily, he skimmed the satin up and over her breasts, but did not remove it. Before she could respond, he swung one leg over her hips and kissed her other breast. Fingers. Lips. Tongue. Being worshipped by Mulder's mouth and hands was just this side of a celestial experience. The ache and throbbing of her clit was exquisite torture ratcheted up by the feel of his still boxers-covered penis insistently pushing against her outer thigh. What he did to her. What she wanted him to do to her. Sensing the depth of her desire and most assuredly recognizing his own, his supple fingers stroked and kneaded her flesh as he released her turgid nub. Squeezing her breasts together, he flicked the tip of his tongue between them, pausing only to French kiss each one in turn. Scully wasn't sure which way was up...nor did she care particularly so overwhelmed with sheer sensation was she. Her hips moved of their own accord against the weight of his leg, the pressure of his steel shaft rubbing her thigh her juices wetting her panties more and more. "Mulder, god, stop. Don't stop." His hands never leaving her, he nudged the camisole up higher with his nose as he mumbled, 'make up your mind, Scully'. Time from that point seemed to double in speed, a whirlwind of heated groping. ^*^*^ She would recall afterwards as they lay there in each other's arms, how he'd somehow barely managed to pull her panties off before she had started writhing in earnest. Whether it had been from the feeling of free and abandoned movement or the fact that he'd held the very moist crotch to his face as if breathing life itself, she couldn't say for certain. Neither of them seemed to remember how his boxers ended up under the pillows. He thought it might have been the way the firm globes of her ass felt as he'd roughly pawed at her to take her with him, positioning her over him once again. But it also could have been the way her hair fell in skewed waves around her face and the satin fabric danced along his abs and chest teasing his flat male nipples. Most likely, it was all of that along with the way she sat just below his navel, the heat from her sex molten against him. She wasn't sure which one of them had moved first, but it was a matter of hands everywhere, her partner's velvet covered shaft nearly impaling her as his fingers separated her ass cheeks and her sudden need to stick her tongue down his throat as he tried to beat her at her own game. He was unwilling to let go of her hips, so intent was he on lifting her off him, holding her poised just over his very sensitive tip and then pulling her back down as he thrust up into her. Again. And again and again. When his thumb and forefinger reached between them to circle and tug on her clit, she sat upright, the weight of her head too much as it fell back on her neck. She remembered riding him hard as if she'd been waiting a lifetime to do so. Remembered the feel of his cock each time it slammed up inside her. Probably the last thing he remembered with some sort of accuracy was how her thighs started shaking and then went rigid with her release. Mere minutes before he came inside her. ^*^*^ Full daybreak and sudden inaction blanketed them in a slight chill. Although no longer conjoined, Scully lay draped over Mulder's body, her breasts pressed against his side, her leg half-covering his hip. His arm wrapped possessively around her, cradling her head to his chest, his other hand drawing lazy circles on her arm. "I'm cold, Mulder." She muttered into his chest. "Me, too." His lips formed the words in her hair. Both were cold. Neither moved. "I got the blankets last time, Scully." "It doesn't count, it was too long ago." Her partially formed smile froze as she realized how long it had actually been since they were in a position to verbally joust about who would cover them after making love. She slowly extricated herself from his embrace and he reluctantly let her go. Drawing the sheet and chenille bedspread up over them both, she re-snuggled against him, but he gently nudged her until she had turned away from him. He caught the arch of her eyebrow and her smirk before she felt him curl around her from behind, enveloping her in his warmth and languid strength. "It has been a long time, hasn't it?" The sole of her foot massaged his shin, her hands holding his forearm to her. "How did we make it to this point, Scully? I mean, after all this time." The feel of the curve of her ear beneath his lips was at once familiar and new to him. His lips formed the tiniest of butterfly kisses as he caressed the shell and moved to her earlobe. Trying to focus on the sound and feel of his words, she drew one large hand to her lips, kissing his knuckles and then tucking it under her chin. "It was time. Besides, I was growing tired of the swank hotel knowing that I could be here in your inexpensive, Bureau financed boardinghouse. And now I realize just how much I was missing. Why, the ambiance alone…" His hand over her mouth ended her teasingly playful explanation. His palm still covering her mouth, he told her, "I love you, you know." Planting a kiss on his lifeline, she drew his hand away. "I do know and I love you back. Love and trust you, Mulder. With my heart, with my life." ^*^*^*^*^ Radisson Hotel Friday, 22 September 9:00AM She was unsure once again. The hunter green wool crepe slacks and sage, tailored silk blouse or the leopard print jacket and black short skirt? The former was a striking color for her, but the latter showed off her slim, curvy hips and shapely legs. In the end, comfort won out and she chose the green outfit, opting to pair it with her taupe suede pumps. Her careful observations over the last few days told her that he liked his women to wear their hair back in those wide headbands. She'd never been a fan, but if that's what currently turned on her foxy man, then a headband was it. Suede and taupe to match her shoes. No doubts plagued her regarding her abilities to get him to come to her. The problem lay in getting him to her suite. To her suite where she'd carefully laid out his special edition Carl Sagan, chilled the Hopback Summer Lightening, placing a frosting mug in the small freezer compartment and already placed a jazz CD in the player. He would fall; she knew that with a deep certainty. Once he'd seen what she did for him, remembered what they'd had in the past and realized that Dana Scully was so polar opposite that she threatened to freeze him out. She would help him see the error of his ways. She had to place the call, set the wheels in motion. ^*^*^ Pine Street Boardinghouse Mulder hummed in the shower. He was alone--not by choice, but alone nonetheless. He'd tried to convince her to stay and join him, carefully explaining the long-term benefits to their expense reports. He tried to impress her with his reasoning, explaining that two could shower as cheaply as one. Maybe she saw through his serious suggestion when his hand found its way between her legs, causing her to gasp with sweet surprise a nd clutch at his arms? So, he found himself a party of one. A rather content party of one. Life had finally returned to normal. Well, as normal as his life could be. But having Scully back in his life completely, in every way, certainly brought out the best in him. There was nothing he couldn't accomplish with his partner by his side. Using one of the small guest shampoo bottles, he lathered his hair, tilting it back to rinse and inadvertently backing himself into the diamond patterned plastic shower curtain. This shower stall wasn't quite as spacious as he was sure Scully's would be. The pale green curtain was damp and heavy as it clung to his ass. Hips swaying slightly, he felt it pull away wetly. Brief mental images of her shower gel slicked skin under the running water made him pause. He realized he could feel his heart beating just a little bit harder and faster and was rather surprised to find himself growing more and more aroused. ^*^*^ Radisson Hotel Scully listened to the whoosh of the elevator door closing behind her and took a deep breath, leaning against the side wall. Just underneath her sudden realization that she wasn't really tired at all, although she'd been awake now for almost 24 hours, was an exhilaration she hadn't felt in a long time. Her body still thrummed as her mind replayed the night's festivities and her skin tingled in places that hadn't tingled in what felt like forever. A flush crept over her chest, neck and face as she recalled the first sweet touch of his lips to hers and then fast-fowarded to the feeling of him buried deep inside her as she watched his eyes as he fought to hold on for one more second. Losing the fight, surging up inside her, grabbing her hips… She arrived at her floor and made her way down the carpeted hallway on somewhat rubbery legs. Making a mental list of what she had to do today, she inserted the keycard in the slot. Tossing off her jacket on the upholstered bench in the entryway, she thought about calling Chief Ennis to see if she and Kimberley could meet with her to talk about the unidentified white powder. But all she could see was her partner's face, smiling at her, his lips mouthing 'Love you, Scully'. Removing her clothing, she grabbed her robe and headed for the shower, deciding the call could wait. ^*^*^ Radisson Hotel Perched on the window seat overlooking the city, she tapped at the keys with a pencil, dialing his number. The anticipation of hearing his voice once again was nearly unbearable. That low masculine monotone she loved so much. Well, she mentally amended; she loved it when it was used to seduce her, to share the latest test results, to confer. She abhorred that voice when it was whispered to someone else. But, she wasn't going to drift down that path right now when accomplishing her goal was so palpable. 'Fox'. She would see him, talk to him…touch him again. She knew he would forgive her and want her back once she'd explained everything to him. The final aspect of their rendezvous would be its effect on the soon to be partnerless Agent Scully. Knowing that even if Fox did not come willingly, the fact that his former lover would see them together would surely send her running, made Diana ecstatic. He picked up on the fourth ring. He'd obviously been busy, showering maybe? Getting out of bed possibly? He'd never been one to really sleep in unless she counted the times they'd lingered between the sheets after a particularly frantic night of mutual needs and satisfaction. She felt herself grow warm at the thought. "Mulder." She sighed. God, how she'd missed him. "Hello? Is that you, Scully?" Bitch. He mentioned the bitch and she hadn't even spoken to him yet herself. Controlling her need to set him straight about the redhead, she purred. Silence met her. Followed by either choking or coughing. Was he clearing his throat? "I'm sorry, I think you have the wrong number." She knew he was trying to pretend he didn't recognize her voice. She smiled at his ineffectual attempt at subterfuge. He really was rather charming in that way. "We have nothing to discuss, Diana, nothing to say to each other." Finality. So serious. But she knew he was just testing her resolve. She knew he wouldn't have the temerity to dismiss her outright. She knew she had him there by his sharp inhalation and the movement on his end. She thought he was probably dressing and briefly, let herself picture him in his boxers and tee shirt, his shoeless feet... His sharp tone brought her back to the here and now. "Spit it out, Diana." All right, she could play his game, match his style. She was nothing if not adaptable. Hell, she'd survived beyond anyone's expectations -- except her own. She trailed off, unwilling to voice her final thought which would have required her speaking the other Agent's name to him. ^*^*^ Massaging his jaw in hopes of clearing his head, Mulder paced, dragging the phone cord back and forth in front of his bed. He'd hastily wrapped a towel around his hips when he'd heard the phone, thinking and hoping it might be Scully. Now he was chilled; beyond the damp towel formed to his wet skin, he was chilled to the bone. She really was alive, just as the Gunmen had told him. Although he hadn't doubted the veracity of what they had to say; learning long ago that the trio dealt in truths, he'd been torn between wanting it to be so and hoping to God it wasn't. No doubts now...as her voice channeled its way into him, firing off synapses he wished would stop. No good could come of their further connection. He'd decided he could care less about the portal and Scully had already made significant headway on the properties of the paste. Scully. What the hell was he going to tell her? He admitted that some small part of him wanted to hear what Diana had to say, but not without telling his partner first. He wouldn't venture down that road again without her by his side. "You can tell me over the phone. I'm really very busy on a case right now." He knew it sounded lame, even to his own ears, but he wasn't prepared to deal with her right now. He'd still been on an emotional high, having reestablished some semblance of his former life during the late night and early morning. He didn't think his heart was going to handle this sudden shift. She sounded so damn sure of herself and something else. A little off-center, even for her. Not able to put his finger on what it was he was sensing, he instead went on immediate alert. He knew all too well just how fast she could switch tactics, switch sides. He had always doubted that she'd do him serious harm, but there was something in her tone that told him that might no longer be the case. There was no way she was coming to the boardinghouse. He flatly refused to bring her into his personal space. The place where he and Scully had so recently made love. "No." His tone was as abrupt sounding as he'd intended. But, he noted, she didn’t miss a beat and suggested they meet in the lobby of her hotel. The Radisson Hotel. Shit. The very same Radisson Hotel where Scully was staying. He flung the wet terrycloth from his hips, the cool morning air hitting him instantly, making him shiver. Rummaging, one-handed, in is duffel; he grabbed a pair of clean boxer briefs he hadn't known he'd had. Trying to quickly pull them on, he tipped his head toward his shoulder to balance the phone there, but reaching for the briefs only succeeded in him dropping the handset onto the bed. He could hear her tinny voice calling out to him as he quickly stepped into and pulled up his undergarments, his still damp skin causing him to tug and twist to get them up over his hips. "I'm here, Diana. Is there some lounge we can meet at in about an hour?" He wasn't going to be rushed. "An hour; take it or leave it." He heard her sigh followed by her directions to meet her in the Lobby Bar off the main entryway of the hotel. Grabbing another towel, Mulder swiped it over his arms, his chest and back, then ruffed his hair. He tossed it toward the bathroom counter to join the other already there. His mind already working on what to tell Scully, he took his jeans from the back of the bedside chair and worked them up over his legs, jumping a little to get them up to his waist. He left the fly unbuttoned as he opened the top drawer in the bureau and withdrew his olive Henley. Leaving the hem untucked, he padded into the bathroom where he found the hair gel. Working a quarter-sized dollop into his hair, he reached for the dryer, waving it around a few times. After wiping his hands on the small towel on the ring holder, he stuffed his shirt into his jeans and buttoned up. Sliding his bare feet into his brown Docksiders, he reached for the phone as he sat on the edge of the bed. 'C'mon, Scully, pick up.' He hung up after leaving her a message to call his cellphone as soon as she was able. There was no way he was leaving a message about Diana. He needed to talk to her about this situation personally. He tried her cell next. No answer. He couldn't figure out where she might have gone. He didn't think she planned to head back to the Station since they'd talked about setting up a joint meeting. When they'd parted, it was with the understanding that they'd both get showered and dressed and then set up a meeting with the Chief and Kimberley. He'd allowed her to leave with reluctance. Had wanted her to shower with him. No matter that she didn't have any clean clothing with her. But he'd acquiesced knowing that there'd be plenty of future opportunities for partner showers now. He wondered if she'd gone to the hotel gym and then laughed thinking she'd most certainly had her workout for today. Seeing her above him, riding him with an intensity that threatened to take him right over the cliff. And did just that. Whether it had been the sight of her breasts bouncing above him or her legs spread shamelessly right in front of him or a combination, he wasn't sure anymore. All he knew was that he was feeling hot again and Mulder, Jr. was coming back to life. He had to find her. Speed dialing her cell once again, he decided he had to leave her a message. At least he knew she would be the only one able to access it. 'Scully. Call me as soon as you get this message. I'm going to be in the Lobby Bar of your hotel meeting with someone who can give us some important information from Marblehead. I tried to call your room, too. Love you.' Setting his own phone to 'vibrate', he clipped it to his jeans pocket, grabbed his tan leather jacket and headed out to his truck. ^*^*^ Radisson Hotel 11:30AM Opening a medium-sized handle shopping bag, she set it on the table by the window. He might have blown her plan to impress him with her carefully crafted in-suite seduction, but that wouldn't derail her from presenting him with the two gifts. She knew he'd be touched by her thoughtful remembrance and be grateful to her. Carefully placing the book and the brew inside, she tied the handles with a curling red ribbon and set it by the door. One final toss of her hair and swipe of lipstick and she was ready. She'd called the hotel health club, verifying that Scully had indeed been there and left. Calling the desk, she'd asked them to leave a message for Dana Scully to meet Kimberley in the lobby in a half-hour. Yes, things were going according to plan. ^*^*^