^*^*^ Scully placed her workout clothing in the hotel laundry bag and hung it inside the closet. Quickly showering again, she donned her long, slim jeans skirt and brown leather boots. A chocolate brown silk cowl neck top completed her outfit. Although she had set up a meeting down at the Station, she knew the attire would be casual for her and Kimberley. Drying her hair into soft waves, she applied some loganberry gloss, a bit of blush and some mascara. She was surprised she hadn't heard from Mulder, but remembered she'd left her cell in the room when she went down to the gym. It was then that she noticed the red light blinking on the bedside stand. Two messages awaited her. The first from Mulder, telling her to call his cellphone. The second message was more cryptic, and, for some reason, sent the tiny hairs on the back of her neck into a tizzy. She was supposed to meet Kimberley in the lobby. She wondered why her friend hadn't just come up to her room or told her what was up. The message just wasn't Kimberley's style. The combination of the two messages bothered Scully. She immediately flipped open her cellphone noting that she 'had one message waiting'. Her partner's voice sounded more urgent in this message. He wanted to meet her in the lobby. Someone was meeting with him. About Marblehead. With information. No, she didn't like the sound of this at all. Figuring she'd just meet him and Kimberley in the lobby, she didn't bother calling him back. ^*^*^ Radisson Hotel Lobby Friday, 22 September Noontime She arrived before him; gift bag set beside her in the booth. She had a view of the lobby, needing to see him before he saw her. Knowing he was rather punctual when he thought he was getting desperately desired information, she went ahead and ordered for them. Sipping the Green Tea Martini, she had the server set his draft across from her. She had little use for the fancy snack mix and basket of warm bread that had been set out for them. She hoped that Scully didn't become overzealous and arrive before Fox. That wouldn't work at all. And suddenly he was walking through the main doors. He took her breath away, even with the slight scowl of impatience on his beautiful face. Although she could see the subtle changes age had wrought, there was no getting away from the fact that this man was exquisite. Oh yes, she'd seen him last summer, but the situation had not shown him at his best. Not like the vision now presented to her. Her eyes assessed him head to toe, pausing just a moment longer at his hips. How had she forgotten just how breathless he could render her? The man wore his sexuality well. She didn't waste time trying to appear demure; that wasn't her style and they both knew that. But she did attempt to subdue her anxiousness; tried to appear more understated. She wasn't sure it was working. Especially when the voices threatened to ruin her plan. Reminding her that this was the man responsible for sending her through the damn portal, nearly killing her in the process. Using her tried and true method, she scrunched her eyes closed tightly and repeating, 'shut up, get out', over and over until the taunting faded. All at once, he was standing in front of her, the only thing missing, his winning smile. His posture was anything but welcoming, but she chose to ignore it, knowing that he had always needed to have things proven to him. Although, she recalled, that hadn't been the case between them early on. No matter. "Fox, how good of you to come." Sliding farther into the booth, she motioned him to sit down beside her. "No thanks; I'll stand. What do you have for me, Diana?" His monotone was much more 'mono', she noted, sure she could do something to change that. "Fox, all work and no play; you know what they say." Giving him her biggest widest grin. It wasn't working for some reason and she was becoming a bit upset. For a fleeting moment, he thought he saw a crack in her facade, the slightest slip of her showy demeanor. Felt that something was different somehow. "At least take off your jacket and stay awhile." Her hand rested somewhat tensely on the gift bag. "I have something for you. Something aside from the information. Can't we at least have drink? I did order for us." Her tone bordered on whining and if he didn't know better, that's exactly what he'd swear he was hearing. "Look, let me try Scully once more and then we can all talk." He reached for his cell phone, but she stood, taking it from him. ^*^*^ Scully had tried Kimberley twice and gotten her on the second call. Just as she'd thought, Kimberley had not planned to meet her in the lobby, but was awaiting the time to meet at the Station. Scully told her she'd call her later and snapped the phone closed, her frustration growing. Depressing the 'L' button much harder than necessary, she leaned against the panel, daring the elevator to make any stops prior to hers. Thankfully, she'd managed to get the 'express' to the Lobby and stormed through the open doors. Her unrestrained long hair bouncing on her shoulders, wisps floating out behind her as she moved with purpose, Diana spied Scully before Scully discovered her in the Lobby Bar. Making only one stop at the Desk to inquire about the person who left the message, she was thwarted. The Desk staff remembered only that it was a woman caller who did not wish to bother her in the room. She rounded the corner from the Desk, trying to find Mulder. She 'found' him as she walked between the large ficus trees that framed the entry to the Bar. Found him with his hands on Diana Fowley's shoulders, their faces mere inches apart. Feeling as if she'd received a jab to the solar plexus, she came to a halt, willing herself to breathe. Slowly, deeply. Diana's smile was only exceeded by the length of her arms as they seemed to enfold Mulder. She could make out snippets, words uttered. She'd know that tone anywhere; he didn't sound pleased. But she couldn't think past what she was seeing. Her analytical mind reminded her just how much she loved him, trusted him. Reminded her of all that had come since the fateful summer. Told her that he'd tried to reach her; probably to let her know about Diana. Her emotional side went into overdrive, duking it out with her analytical side, coming up the temporary victor. Diana barely listened to Mulder's protestations, hardly felt his attempts to push her away as she held on for dear life. As she watched with inner glee the look on Scully's face as she observed from just outside the lounge. Oh so carefully, she maneuvered him so that they were facing in opposite directions now, her body pressed closely to his. Facing his partner. Mulder saw her face first; the look of shock tinged with unbridled anger and disappointment. But he also read the question in her eyes and knew she saw the pleading in his as he broke out of Diana's grasp, throwing her off balance. Dropping her into the booth with an audible plop. Diana watched with indignation…mixed with slight pique. She hadn't been able to advance her plan to fruition, yet the effect seemed to be the same. If she knew Scully, she was about to walk off, leaving Mulder once again. She knew that although he would go after her, he wouldn't put up with much more from the simpering, haughty woman. Fox was much too proud for that. ^*^*^ Scully was moving before Mulder could clear the Bar and his repeated calls to her had no effect. Heading for the automatic sliding glass doors at the hotel entrance, she stopped several feet before, watching idly as they whooshed open and then slid closed once again. Something didn't ring true about Diana's look, although, as far as Scully was concerned, there had always been something a little 'off' about the formerly twice dead Agent Fowley. Only a true Phoenix rises from the ashes. This woman should be buried in those ashes. Deeply buried. This line of thinking brought a wry half smile to her face. The real question was what her game plan would be this time. Why here? Why now? Well, she could probably answer those questions easily. Mulder was 'here, now'. She had no doubt that the strange woman wanted full possession of her former partner and lover. That had to be at least part of her grand scheme. Scully just didn't know the rest of the scheme. Yet. The anger that had been simmering just below the surface now boiled, bursting through, but she rightfully identified to whom it was directed. And it wasn't Mulder; at least not entirely. She knew in her heart of hearts that he had neither planned nor orchestrated the scene she had witnessed. But she did continue to wonder just how many times he would allow himself to listen to anything that woman had to say. What kind of power did she wield? For someone who appeared to have honed the ability to persuade, coax and cajole others, often entreating them to respond when no one else had succeeded, he could sometimes be completely and infuriatingly bamboozled by the most obvious set-up. She considered asking him to profile someone who fit his current behavioral patterns. Someone purely fictitious, of course. What was more frustrating and what she hated to admit still hurt was seeing him with *her*; their bodies pressed close. She held no illusions about how Diana had contrived what she saw to make it appear as if he was a willing participant. Scully knew he wasn't. Saw it in his posture, in the look in his eyes. Knew it in her very soul. But that didn't mean she couldn't hurt. Biting back the words she longed to spit in the brunette's direction, she turned again, hands on her hips and purposefully walked back toward the Bar. The look on her face telling her partner that not only was she waiting for him, but that the trust was still there. And that he had some explaining to do. ^*^*^ Diana was royally pissed and not a little put off by both Agents. Fox refused to see just how much she had done coming back to him. Failed to even inquire as to what she'd been through since the Cat Island debacle. Probably didn't know that she would have saved his life had she not been forced to go through the portal so completely unprepared. She had a lot she wanted to share with him. In her more lucid moments, she saw how well they would work together to put the pieces of the white paste puzzle together efficiently and neatly. She'd done her own research, recruited and conferred with the top scientific minds in Germany and Switzerland and she'd found a few bits of information she was sure Scully would never acquire. Score one for the Fowley team. But mostly, she desperately needed to snare the fox away from the redheaded vixen. Slumping gracelessly in the booth, having landed partially on the bow-decorated gift bag, she was perplexed. Why had she not foreseen his reaction to his petite partner? What had she failed to consider? She pulled herself upright, a new confidence dawning on her. It wasn’t her failing. It was the interference of the sniveling non-believer. Well, if what Dana Scully needed was proof, even after all these years at Fox's side, Diana would be the one to give her what she needed. She could begin with providing experiential knowledge of the full effects of the white paste. Yes -- that might make a believer out of her. ^*^*^ He didn't want to think too deeply about how it was that he'd managed to find himself in this situation. With Scully's worst nightmare. A classic set-up that even first year academy students would spot from a mile away. With their eyes closed. And someone whispering in their ear what was about to take place. It wasn't that he was unaware that anything possibly associated with his former partner meant trouble. It wasn't even that he couldn't see through her. It was probably much more that he was constantly on the search for information that would help him discover exactly how that portal functioned and the true nature of the paste substance. He suspected that Scully was experiencing the lingering effects of its application. He recalled that her dose was equal to his and, given her size compared to his, that had to be the root of the problem. If he could just get his hands on the solution. The fact that she'd been having what seemed like dizzy spells and that her memory also seemed temporarily impaired, greatly concerned him. But what concerned him more now was the look on her face when the Agent with many apparent lives had set her scene. Expressly for Scully's benefit. Although, he mused, 'benefit' implied the derivation of good. The outcome for Diana had proved far from beneficial. Scully. He could only imagine how she must have been feeling when she saw Diana's arms wrapped around him. On the day she'd finally readmitted him completely -- body and soul. So much larger than her small frame, her presence commanded his attention, the look in her eyes conveying all he needed to know. But still he approached with slight trepidation. He'd taken at face value their reconciliation, seeing and experiencing her resolve. Their commitment. But he also knew full well what Diana symbolized to his current partner. "Scully?" Tentative and questioning. He saw her eyes soften just the slightest bit and approached with more confidence. Although her arms remained crossed almost defiantly in front of her, he smiled as she also took a step toward him, closing the distance between them. Almost imperceptibly, her eyes focused briefly over his shoulder to the right. He knew instinctively she had Diana in view. "Scully," his tone now suffused with the need for understanding, but also quiet resolve and commitment, he grasped her shoulders and touched his lips to her forehead. Never seeing the look of pure, unadulterated rage from the woman now standing a mere five feet off to the side, Mulder murmured Scully's name, thankful for her understanding, her warmth washing over him even as she held herself somewhat guardedly in his grasp. ^*^*^ Becoming further incensed, the angry woman moved back into the shelter of the lounge alcove, affording her a rather unpleasant view of the proceedings. Close enough to watch and listen--far enough away to be invisible, her preferred method of surveillance. It had worked for her in her early years with the Bureau, ranking her among the finest investigators, and it had served her well in her interim positions. Allowing her to move from one to the other with an extremely high return on her boss's investment in her. She'd even set up her own 'agency' at one point, having found it very gratifying to mobilize her own people to suit her means and ends. But, that hadn't lasted long. She did not suffer other's weaknesses, had no desire to 'develop' her staff. They either cut it or they didn't. Each time she'd had to 'disengage' someone from her organization, she knew she was teaching him or her a valuable lesson. Do it right or do it elsewhere. Most fulfilling had been her on-going role as freelancer. Although she'd known the Bureau's stance on such behavior, they'd trained her well. She knew how to fly below their radar, managing to handle the few meager cases they tossed her way and to build on her reputation in the private arena. Plain and simple, she was a 'gun for hire', her reputation allowing her to garner the plum assignments, keeping her happily ensconced in the finer circles within which she so loved to travel and live. But while the varied work assignments were enticing and exhilarating, she found something lacking. Seriously. She needed a partner back in her life. But not just any partner. He who was rightfully hers, he who belonged to her and to no other. Certainly not to the shell of a woman he was with now. She'd experienced some of the most creative and inventive sex with some of the most beautiful and engaging men, but other than providing release and climax, they never did for her what Fox did. Never fulfilled her to the extent he could. She'd always marveled at how he seemed to know innately just what she needed, how to complete her. Sure, she'd allowed him to slip away. Well, when she was being honest with herself, she would acknowledge that she had been the one to push him. She guessed traipsing off to Europe with not so much as a decent word or two could have justifiably angered him. But that had been in her younger and more impetuous days. She'd experienced so much more since those dark years. Knew he would understand if she could just have some time alone with him. That was looking harder and harder to come by. She had to shore up her resolve, marshal her resources. She could make it happen. She was known for her ability to make almost anything happen. Even if that ability had faltered somewhat in the past year. Shit happens. Even to the best. How she'd failed to see the pieces of the dastardly puzzle falling into place, she still couldn't say. One minute she'd been working with them, leading them in their quest to bring down the two Agents. She'd loved that assignment and knew she'd be given leeway where Fox was concerned. Or so she'd thought. Instead, bits and pieces started crumbling around her and the others who employed her weren't feeling magnanimous enough to give her a chance to shore it up again. They didn't understand. They didn't give her a chance to explain. And if they weren't bad enough, the blue-eyed bitch tried her damnedest to upset her carefully laid out plans. Oh, she'd succeeded in part, knew that she'd played on Scully's old jealousies enough to resurrect even older insecurities. Watching the frosty cold Agent squirm had almost compensated for the obstacles she'd thrown in her path. But in the end, she had been duped by her bosses and made to look the fool in Fox's eyes. In front of Scully. And once again, he was with 'her', trying to soothe her pathetic sensibilities, touching his lips to her, failing to see her petty ways to draw him in. When had he become soft? When had he stopped craving the fire and heat of the moment? Well, she'd allow them their simpering moment. But just one. ^*^*^ Scully was still baffled and not a little angry. Mulder *did* have a lot of explaining to do. He was making the effort; she'd give him that. But that was about all she wanted to give him right now. It didn't really have anything to do with the trust; not this time; but it did have everything to do with his need to be involved. Involved with Diana Fowley or another Diana-conceived plan. She knew Diana for the cheap imitation of a clever woman. Manipulating, scheming, conniving, but certainly not 'clever'. Not in the widely held definition of the word. But that was to be expected. The only thing Diana ever did that was expected was throw herself at Mulder. Scully did expect more from him, however. And while his touches now were sincere and comforting, she also wondered if they were placating as well. Maybe not intentionally so, but... Mulder's need to make things right was strong. To right all wrongs if he could; especially where she was concerned. Diana ranked right up there with all the other wrongs he believed he'd brought her way. And she might just be the one problem that he had quite a bit of control over. Oh, not in the conventional sense. Scully still believed very strongly that each person was ultimately responsible for her/his own actions. But that only reinforced the fact that each step along the way, he'd made choices regarding how he'd interacted with Diana. And, although this time was different, he'd still agreed to meet with her. She had to know why. But Scully refused to drop her guard and relinquish control to that woman. Nor would she give her the satisfaction of stalking out; which was exactly what she'd felt like doing. Diana would never know that it was more because of seeing her than the fact that Mulder was with her. His hands were now on her shoulders, his lips in her hair...his very presence was at once reassuring, but stifling. Although she would smugly admit that knowing Fowley was most certainly witnessing their reunion was gratifying. Allowing herself only the briefest of contact, she stepped back, her hands now on her hips, the slightest nod of her head indicating that she wanted to continue this discussion privately. Their eyes met briefly before they walked side by side to the elevators. Close but separate. Outward appearances not withstanding, Scully kept the space between them, her mind still in a quandary, focused on the man beside her. She could feel his gaze upon her and turned in his direction. Knew he saw the question in her eyes and her need for silence. Raising one brow, she noted that he understood her need for space -- only until the elevator doors closed, cutting them off completely from Diana's prying eyes. She also noted that all bets were off once they were sequestered. Her hand came up to hold back the questions she knew were about to flow. "Let's just get upstairs, Mulder." Her tone brooked no further discussion. But that didn't mean he wouldn't try. "Scully, it's not what it seemed." She knew that, but she needed to know more. The 'ding' signaled her floor and she proceeded him through the parting double doors. "Then why don't you tell me exactly what it was." His long strides allowed him to pace her much quicker, shorter steps, but she knew he was waiting to respond. Slipping the keycard in the door, she entered and set it down on the desk. She knew his eyes were on her as she stalked to the other side of the room, plopping into the club chair. She moved her feet out of the way as he pulled the ottoman away from the chair, he sat in front of her, his knees bent almost to his chest, framing her legs until she pulled them up under her. The image brought a ghost of a smile to her eyes, but she bit it back. "I needed to know--" "That's a rerun, Mulder. And it's SOP with you. You always 'need to know'. What could she possibly have to tell you?" Her tone belied her calm repose, but her voice was barely above a whisper. Quiet fury. "I wanted you to be a part of this. Wanted, no, needed, you with me." But she wasn't waiting. "If that were true, you would have rescheduled so I could have joined you." "You're not being fair, Scully." She changed positions when he reached toward her, his hand landing lightly on her leg. "What's fair about anything where Diana's concerned?" The volume on her previously 'quiet fury' moved up a notch, the pain in her voice evident. She watched intently as he dragged his hand across his chin and mouth and then raked it through his hair. She stood, pacing the width, then the length of the room and ended up seated on the bed. "She has information I think can help you in identifying the properties of the paste," he leaned forward, his forearms on his thighs, "and might be able to reverse the effects it still seems to be having on you." His voice had taken on that gravely quality he reserved for his most serious or sincere moments and it drew her in. She moved over to sit by his side, their arms and hips touching. Facing the windows, she spoke with equal quiet...and vehemence. "Look, Mulder, I know that your intent is always honorable, but I can't understand just what the attraction is to this woman, why you always seem to trust in her intentions. This woman who's proven time and time again that she's not to be trusted, that she's self-serving and--" "Point, Scully. Lots of points." She turned toward him, one leg bent under her. "Just how is it that she shows up here now, with both of us in the city and claims to want to help? What's her motivation? Are you really ready to be played so easily...again?" "Ouch. That hurts Scully." To his credit, she was glad he didn't attempt the puppydog eyes and when she didn't speak, he continued. "You really think I was played?" Her pursed lips, furrowed brow and the set of her face was all the answer he needed, but she was prepared to provide a more definitive response. "What would you call it, Mulder? She used your penchant and passion for discovering the truth and your desire to keep me safe to draw you in. The last time, she did such a fine job that you doubted me. What's the draw this time?" She was on a roll and moved onto her knees, sitting back on her heels, hands on her thighs. Leaning toward him, her words flowed, heated and challenging. "She's going to provide you with information about the paste? Why? Even you should know she has no desire to help me. Think about it; figure it out. Use that brilliant, investigative mind and wrap yourself around the real reasons she's here." Scully remained perfectly still, her gaze trained on her now silent partner, watching the subtle shift in his expression as her questions and declarations rumbled around in his head. When it seemed as if he wasn't about to respond, she climbed off the bed, muttering, 'Fine, ok', and headed to the bathroom sink to pour herself a glass of water. Trying to fathom why they always seemed to reach an impasse where the Fowley woman was concerned, she admitted that they were at least much stronger in their relationship. Yet still, they had stalled. She gulped the water and set the glass on the small plastic vanity tray harder than she intended. She whirled around, her re-surfacing anger bubbling just below the surface, and nearly collided with Mulder. "Going somewhere, Scully?" She hoped her laser glare would indicate just how much she did not appreciate his attempt at humor. "Get out of my way, Mulder." Making only a half-hearted attempt to move past him, she sighed. Resigned and heavy and tired. So very tired of anything having to do with that...that woman. His presence in the doorframe effectively blocked her exit, so she lowered the toilet seat and sat, her arms crossed. "Fine." Sensing she was not about to walk out on them, he perched on the counter, his hands on the edge, his feet crossed at the ankles. "Look, I'm sorry. Sorry for it all, Scully. For some reason I'm either unable to see or afraid to look at, Diana remains my blind spot. Someone I know will usually," noting the not-so-subtle raise of her brow, he amended, "someone I know will always have an unknown agenda. That agenda will involve setting out alluring bait that she knows I'll follow. And I do." Sighing and shifting on the counter top, he continued, "Oh, I've gotten better about seeing her for what and who she really is, but the truth is, she still wants me. Because she does, because she still believes I want her, too, she's also willing to offer me tidbits; small tastes of information she knows I want, knows I need. The problems begin when just like the person opening Pandora's Box, once I go to her, everything goes to hell in a hand basket." Her posture relaxing, Scully unfolded her arms, her hands falling into her lap. She licked her lips and nodded at him to go on, sensing he had more to say. "But there has to be more here this time. I mean, I'm sure part of why she's here has to do with me, but she's angry now too; much angrier than she was...," he stammered and then stopped, afraid to complete his sentence. Scully completed it for him. "Much angrier than she was this summer? Is that what you wanted to say, Mulder? I'm not made of eggshells. Yes, it still hurts, but I'd like to think we've moved past that point, together." That brought a small smile to his face, tentative at first and then stronger in its display. "We have, Scully; we have. But she *is* angry and there's more. She's edgier than I've seen her before; something's going on just below the surface. It's just a hunch, but..." "That never stopped you before," she quipped, as she stood, moving to stand in front of him. He chuckled and added, "But I don't think she's in her right mind. She mumbled something about being disappointed about not being able to give me my special gift, whatever that might've been." "What else did she say?" Scully stepped into the frame of his legs as he uncrossed his ankles, her hands on his thighs, glancing down as his hands moved to her hips, completing their natural connection once again. He searched her face before replying, their eyes taking each other in, reacquainting, testing, settling into one another again. "She said she's hired some of the best scientists in the world to research the paste and that she has valuable information." "Oh, really? And why would she do that? What reason would she have to know the properties? I can't believe it's solely to find out what happened in that sci-fi warehouse. Unless,..." She stepped back with such suddenness that she nearly lost her balance against the opaque bathing enclosure behind her. Mulder reached out to steady her as he came to his feet. "'Unless' what?" "Remember what Kimberley said last night about the Toronto case? Remember I told you about a connection we made with Chief Ennis earlier yesterday? How coincidental is it that Diana's here talking about the damn paste, too?" ^*^*^*^ The Vault Outskirts of Burlington, Vermont Friday, 22 September 9:15PM Impatience governed his fidgety hands even as the hired help buffed his black patent leather shoes. He had a mere forty-five minutes to ensure that all was in place and even less time to find out why his new partner had missed their meeting earlier today. He doubted that 45 minutes would change him from taciturn and sour to amiable. Well, hell, when had he done 'amiable' well anyway? Did he really care? He had the luxury of employing those that truly wanted to be there. And, if they didn't, well, he'd gladly slice them right out of the picture, no questions asked. He allowed himself a small wistful smile. He read people well, had learned at his father's knee, or, more aptly, at his father's feet. Where he'd landed when he failed to read his father's every whim and desire accurately. Pressed into service early in his youth, he'd shadowed his father in his daily and nightly ventures. He'd known everyone in their Brooklyn neighborhood from a very young age; known who worked where, how many kids were in the families, schedules, traffic patterns. His mind took in the details and catalogued them for future reference. By day, when he wasn't attending Public School 55, he was with his father as he made his way to the open-air fruit and vegetable stands or the sawdust covered floor butcher's shop. 'The early bird catches the worm and then some.' It was one of the first phrases he'd learned, although it had taken him some years to figure out that the bird and worm were merely symbolic references. By night, he visited dark buildings with dark carpeting and even darker furnishings staffed by men and women in equally dark suits and dresses. They treated him well -- catering to his needs, most of which at that tender time revolved around television and ice cream. There were no other children to play with. He didn't 'play', he 'visited'. The men and women entertained him, taught him, while his father was otherwise occupied. He learned things without feeling like he was in school again. As he grew, he found he loved numbers and was quite adept at manipulating them. They 'did' things in his head; jumped around, moving, changing, growing larger. He loved the heady power of them. When one of the women had allowed him to access the computer, he'd been totally hooked. She spent many a night tutoring him, encouraging his baseline skills and talents until he typed like a pro and demonstrated the beginnings of rudimentary hacking. It was an adventure that immersed him into another time and place. Moreover, it was a challenge. He loved a good challenge. His reverie was broken by the snap of the buffing cloth on his knee. It was a good thing Proteus liked this particular man or that little show of inappropriate levity would have been rewarded with a rather painful pink slip. His shoes gleaming, he stepped down from the raised seat and palmed two Andrew Jacksons into the man's hand, rewarding him even more with a rare smile. ^*^*^ The room had been arranged expertly once again, no doubt due to his superb hiring and subsequent training. The black lacquer table was polished to a mirror finish and each of the 18 place settings sparkled and shone in light of the dimmed overhead fixtures. The finest bone china from England, simple and elegant, sterling silver utensils from his family's vast collection, Lalique crystal and fine Italian linen napkins. His chefs had been flown in from his restaurant in Geneva, along with the freshest ingredients. Expense was not a consideration when wining and dining his top brass. It was the same menu each time they began their operation and it served as a signal to the team. 'I feed you well, you feed me well in return.' An unbroken cycle, a never-ending production circle. He walked along the windowed walls, the dark night sky broken only by the lights of the city off in the distance, and headed into the galley kitchen. They were ready for him, expected the final inspection, his tour of their work. The kitchen's stainless steel work surfaces with the occasional recessed cutting board were immaculate as he passed the Head Chef and the two Sous Chefs followed by the entire compliment of food handlers and preparers. Their starched white uniforms changed in anticipation of his visit. "Henri, what is on the menu this fine evening?" Flawlessly and without any hint that he knew his boss knew exactly what was on the menu since it never varied, Henri stood at attention and replied, "We begin with assorted hors d'oeuvres including French Bread toast points with fresh morels seasoned with sage and garlic, Escargots en Buerre Blanc, and Terrine of Vegetables Fraiches." Proteus nodded at the recitation, indicating his pleasure and that the Master Chef should continue. "The first course will begin with warm Butternut Squash Soup garnished with a dollop of creme fraiche and a sprinkling of broad leaf parsley and continue with Duck Breasts with Cherries and Rose Sparkling Wine Reduction with Nutty Wild Rice and Haricots Verts. We will serve baskets of warmed sourdough with medallion unsalted butter pats." The Boss moved along the line of staff noting how proudly they stood as he passed. Henri finished with the wine selections for each course and concluded with his benefactor's favorite part of the menu. "And for dessert, I have prepared individual Peach Tartes Tatins." He smiled broadly, proudly, and was rewarded with a firm handshake and a tight-lipped smile from Proteus. ^*^*^ Smart Suite Inn South Burlington, Vermont 9:00PM His hotshot brother was running late, as usual, and that meant, by extension, Ben would be late, as well. He hated being late and when he had his way, was usually early. How the two of them could have been raised together was beyond him. Night and day. Hell, opposite ends of the earth was more like it. Tonight was crucial and he knew Proteus did not suffer late arrivals graciously. There wasn't much Proteus did that was gracious unless you toed his line to the letter. That Ben could handle. Life as a law enforcement officer did not allow for mistakes or missteps and he'd learned from the very best. But tonight was different. Even without his tardiness, he was worried. Something didn't feel right to him, his years of playing his hunches and second guessing having instilled in him a finely honed sense of perception that often astounded his colleagues and subordinates. He had a very strong sense that Proteus was about to throw them a curve ball necessitating that he remain on top of his game tonight. And damn it, but his brother was making that near impossible. Well, he'd use the time wisely. Opening the door to the rather small closet, he squatted down and retrieved his small carry-on bag. Removing his digital camera, tripod and various notebooks, he laid them aside and reached inside the bag. Finding the front bottom seam, he located the zipper pull and opened the hidden compartment. He'd been instructed to report in to his superior at the first sign of a major development. Ben snorted. The whole fucking case was a 'major development'. What was she thinking? Pulling the coded and encrypted list of call numbers from the zipped space, he scanned the required two inches from the top and then flipped the slip of paper over, finding exactly what he needed. Why they didn't just have their operatives memorize the numbers, he'd never know. But then again, his was not to question why. He didn't complete the saying, not wishing to create a self-fulfilling prophecy. ^*^*^ En Route 8:45PM Heading west on Route 89, he depressed the gas pedal even more with his expensive loafered foot, driving the speedometer past 90. It was a fine night, except that he was running a little behind schedule. If it were only him, he probably wouldn't give a damn, but his sniveling brother would be joining him on the way to their dinner engagement. Mr. Punctual would be extremely pissed. And that was putting it mildly. While he wouldn't speak a word if it in public, or within earshot of another living, breathing human being, Bishop was jealous of his sibling. They'd started out as equals, even possessing the same virile and dashing good looks. He smiled smugly; he'd retained that end of the bargain. Somewhere along the line, they'd both headed into law enforcement, but Bishop had left. Well, since there was no one present to question him further, he admitted that he'd been asked to leave. But, if they hadn't done the asking, he probably would have. His timing was just off. Still, all things being equal...well, almost equal, he was the one with the leg up in this operation. It was he who served as the Big Man's right hand, had his pulse on the new recruits, upcoming events. His brother was only an 'as needed' player. He fumbled with the volume slider on the Bose in-dash CD player. Suddenly, strains of 'Ole Blue Eyes filled the small space around Brantwell 'Bishop' Stillman. Sinatra. Stillman. The similarities were all too obvious. 'I've lived a life that's full. I've traveled each and ev'ry highway; But more, much more than this, I did it my way.' Bishop's just left of on-key baritone followed the voice floating from the speakers. 'Regrets, I've had a few; But then again, too few to mention. I did what I had to do And saw it through without exemption. I planned each charted course; Each careful step along the byway, But more, much more than this, I did it my way.' He felt good; no, make that great! Frankie was his idol. The man had connections and Bishop had connections. The man could croon and Bishop...well, he would be honest with himself, he could use some work. Frankie put him on top of his game. He needed to be in order to deal with his sullen brother. Why couldn't the man just get with the program? This could be the deal that let him leave that snoring so-called job of his back in D.C. Not that Bishop really cared to have him around permanently, there was only room for one Stillman in Vermont, but he thought his brother could make some connections for himself through the Boss. He slowed down as he approached the exit, swinging the low-slung roadster into the parking lot at just a few more miles per hour than warranted. Providing himself with an executive parking spot two feet from the lobby doors, he left the car running as he strode inside. ^*^*^ The Vault Checking his Rolex for the fifth time in so many minutes, he began to pace the length of the table, occasionally moving a piece of silverware or lifting the crystal by its stem and then laying it back in its original location. It was the thrill of the new hunt. Time to reap the benefits from what his lieutenants had sown. Hearing the elevator doors slide open, he stood at welcoming attention, noting with pride that Jemel and Mr. Zale arrived together. He had high hopes for this pairing that extended beyond their most interesting professional partnership. Zale, like so many of his long-standing associates, exhibited the utmost discretion in his dealings while also demonstrating a keen ruthlessness in carrying out his assignments. In many ways, he was Proteus' Number One. In many ways, but not all. He was eternally grateful to the top-notch associate however, for he had facilitated the introduction of Jemel to the group. At one time, a street urchin with a penchant for things that did not belong to her and fingers that would make a hummingbird's wings envious. She'd served as 'executive gofer' in her early years, but had skipped entire rungs of the corporate ladder landing alongside Zale. Her official organizational title was a cross between supervisor of operations and operator without supervision. Proteus' skills lay outside the realm of organizational labels. Perception. Jemel's insights; especially into how people think, were invaluable. The fact that her rapier-sharp intellect and simply devastating beauty brought the biggest asses to their knees made The Boss the envy of his international cohorts. For that, he was quite pleased. They'd make a wonderful team. Oh, he knew she would have myriad reasons why she should continue in her current post. Why she should turn down the promotion. But he and Zale had a plan. An offer she couldn't and shouldn't refuse. But they all needed to feed their souls and their bellies first. ^*^*^ Standing at his place at the head of the table, he watched the others file in, chatting amiably, their dark formal business attire lending a spit and polish smartness to the setting. Coifed and groomed to within an inch of their lives, they were one fine looking group of associates. He waited patiently as they wound down from their daily assignments; some of them today leading their 'cover lives', some of them just back from 'an errand'. He encouraged sharing -- stories and information. Hoped they'd throw out some rumors and puzzle the truth from the chaff. This type of conversation not only sharpened their skills, but drew them together as a solid unit, helping to keep the highly normal competition among them at bay. Competition was healthy -- to a point. When it reached dangerous levels, he was quick to nip it in the bud. "People, it is time we partook of the feast. First we dine, then we do business. Sit, eat." Waving his arm, the 2 carat square-cut pinky diamond glinting in the light of the crystal fixture, he beckoned them. To his right, Zale held the chair for Jemel, moving then to take his seat at his boss's left. The Stillman brothers sat next, facing each other. Tanner Roscoe deposited himself heavily across from Mike Corbin. And Jason Stenhauser and Slug completed the group of eight associates; Proteus' hired muscle. Clinking the tines of his fork against his water goblet, the standing CEO called his group to order. "Before we partake of this fine culinary repast, let us thank Henri and his staff for their arduous preparations." He smiled as the robust, but humble Master Chef and his team flanked Proteus and tipped their heads. "Merci beaucoups mes amis et bon sante!" With that pronouncement, hors d'oeuvres were served. ^*^*^ As cloth napkins were either folded or crumpled and set on the table, chairs were pushed away from it amidst groans of satiety. Now moving rather sluggishly, the group wandered to the large sliding doors to the open-air balcony. "Jemel, Zale, a moment please?" The remaining associates took that as their cue to take their cordials outside and pulled the doors closed. The organization's leader watched his two staff -- especially the woman. She had not been present for their initial meeting due to a rather demanding assignment. He'd forgotten just how much she tended to brighten up the usual sea of dark-haired men. "What is it, Boss?" Zale was the first to speak, although his question was perfunctory. The blonde woman's eyes darted from one side of her to the other. She could smell a set up from a mile away. This one was overkill. Unwilling to give an inch, she stretched to her full 5'6" plus 3" heels. Her carefully measured gaze snared each man in turn, saying more than any question could. She was obviously willing to wait them out, but her boss was not. "Come, sit. Zale and I would like to talk with you." An imperceptible shake of her head cleared her ashen blunt-cut hair back from her cheeks and her index finger neatly tucked the tossed locks behind her left ear, highlighting the rather large round diamond stud. "So talk." Zale held the chair for her as she moved to the small settee instead. A small shrug of his shoulders and the double arch of his brows in Proteus' direction had him joining her on the tapestry-upholstered two-seater. Seated across from his two associates, he leaned forward clasping his hands together, elbows on his knees. A rather affected casual pose. That she saw through immediately although her outward appearance remained unchanged. Her hands were also clasped in her lap, mirroring her superior. Small beads of sweat appeared on Zale's brow. "I'll cut to the chase, Jemel. Your work with Zale here has been nothing but exemplary. You have demonstrated not only the ability to follow instructions to the letter, but to carry-out an assignment with aplomb and cunning. You have great potential as my new Number One." Although a smile lifted the corners of his mouth, his eyes were hard as they locked onto hers. "What do you say?" Crossing her legs at the knee, her black gabardine skirt hugged her thighs, the slit providing him with a rather expansive view of the scenery. "Your Number One. Mmmm." She turned to study Zale, her partner, wondering how she'd been chosen over him; knowing that in this business, pondering such issues was pointless. Decisions were made considering factors she could hardly speculate about, so she did the next best thing -- she ignored them and moved on. She moved one hand to his leg, watching the man beside her follow her hand's path as her fingers slipped to his inner thigh. His sharp intake of breath barely masked the sounds of Proteus rising from his seat to perch on the arm of the settee at her other side. "The full court press? I'm surprised." The words slipped from her lips like frosted honey as her other hand found her superior's quads. "This would be a most advantageous move for you, Jemel. You'll be poised at the brink of more power than you can possibly know what to do with." She would have had to be struck unable to hear to miss the innuendo and promise in his words...and in the husky growl that nearly singed her ear. It appeared that her associate felt the need to help close the deal as his hand covered hers, drawing it farther up his trousered leg. Two -- no, make it three -- could play at this game. Allowing Zale to guide her, she squeezed Proteus' thigh a little harder as she turned her face to him. Her tongue darted out to lap at his neck. She idly wondered how long he'd wait for her answer, but the fact that he lowered his head toward her, trying to maneuver his lips to lock with hers indicated that he might be willing to give her more time. Or, read between the lines. Zale seemed quite satisfied being on the receiving end of this deal as his head fell back against the cushions, his eyes snapping shut. He'd always told Proteus that she was 'handy'. Now squirming on the arm of the small sofa, the suave man was losing control over his proposal as her tongue now snaked into his mouth -- in much the same way her hand was snaking around his crotch. She had considered her options and decided that she was in a win-win position here and would most likely accept the offer. As soon as she was able to speak. ^*^*^*^ Pine Street Boardinghouse Saturday, 23 September 5:00AM "Come back to bed, Scully." The cottony darkness was broken only by the small over-the-stove hood light in the kitchenette as she stood against the bathroom doorframe. "Not yet." For a moment, she wondered if he'd heard her. She knew he was still awake; knew he'd been awake since she'd left the bed to get a drink of water. As her eyes adjusted, she could make him out lying on his back, his arms bent, his hands behind his head. She imagined that early morning Mulder look she loved so much; at once alert and still half-asleep. "What're you waiting for; an engraved invitation?" She shivered slightly from the chill the cool water created and from the warm honey smile of his words. Taking two steps back into the bathroom, she set the glass on the counter and wrapped her arms around his gray tee, hugging it to her as she padded back to her side of the bed. Scully watched as he rolled to his side to face her, his head propped on his arm, his other hand tossing back the blankets for her. His hand patting the bed had her smiling. She brought one knee up onto the bed, leaning her hands forward to climb in. "I want my tee-shirt back, Scully." Before she could reply, he'd grabbed her wrist, pulling her arm out from under her, landing her in a tangle against him as he tried to wrestle the shirt off her. Only managing to lift it above her chest. The slight draft over her quickly goose-bumping skin was her first tip off that he'd almost succeeded. The second was the feel of his bare chest against her equally bare back. Hot touching cold. Heated skin warming her inside and out. "Covers, Mulder." Drawing her bent arms toward her chest, she snuggled back into him, her ass shifting and pushing against his pj bottoms. "I'll cover you, partner." He told her as he wrapped one pajama-clad leg over her hips, locking her to him. The rather prominent evidence of his early morning arousal was inescapable, the feel of him against her panties causing her to shiver. "That wasn't exactly what I had in mind. We're sleeping in this morning, remember?" "Sleeping is boring, Scully; not half as much fun as what *I* had in mind." Trying to dislodge his rather heavy, muscled leg wasn't working. The harder she attempted to move it, the more his lower body wriggled, creating a growing pool of sensation between her legs. So much for sleep. "Mulder, your mind needs a rest." Giggling, she swatted ineffectually at his roaming hands. "I keep trying to tell you I'm not tired." Drawing closer, he pursed his lips blowing lightly across her ear. "By the looks of things, you're not tired, either, Scully." His fingers teasing her already aching nipples only added fuel to the growing fire deep inside her. "Looks can be deeee..ceiving... Oh." "I don't know, Scully. Hard evidence doesn't lie." He slid one arm under her shoulders to replace the hand that moved to her panties, cupping her. Had she been able, she would have laughed. He could be like a dog with a bone, singly focusing, ignoring anything in his way. Like the fact that he had locked her legs together with his own. Had she completed that thought, the reality of him being a quick learner would have struck her...as he had already removed his leg and was spreading hers. "Shut up, Mulder." ^*^*^ He almost didn't hear it -- the faint, but insistent trilling of his cellphone in his pants pocket. And when it finally hit him that the ringing wasn't some result of the feel of his partner's hips grinding into him, he decided to ignore it. He could always check his voicemail later. Right now, his attention seemed to be otherwise occupied. A beautiful woman who refused to stop moving, touching all his hot spots. He didn't know where to begin to note them all... His mind must have wandered, he mused, because somehow Scully had managed to work her way down his body. She was doing an admirable job of exploring the rather uneven terrain beneath his slightly tight pants. And he was working very hard at rising to the occasion for her. When the phone made itself known yet again, she paused, poised on her knees between his bent legs. "Mulder?" "Don't stop, Scully." She heard the nearly breathless tone as he implored her, saw the flush on his chest and neck, felt the heat beneath her hand. Not totally unaffected herself, she reluctantly sat back on her heels, massaging his thighs. "I'm going to get your phone, Mulder." His moan of frustration told her exactly what he thought of the idea, but her sense of duty overshadowed his objections as she crawled to the foot of the bed, tugging at her tee. Watching her actions with amusement, he wondered why and when she decided to exhibit her modesty. His foot sought the blankets and he managed to bring them as far as his shins before quickly sitting up and pulling them over himself, but that was about as far as he was willing to move. He was holding fast to their agreement to 'sleep in'. Even if he preferred a few other activities to sleeping. She flipped the phone open and handed it to him, pulling the cover back to slip beneath it. Holding the phone to his right ear, he wrapped his left arm around her as she nestled into him, her head on his chest and her left arm and leg draped over him. As the weight of her thigh settled just below the drawstring waist of his pajama bottoms he gritted her name, his jaw clenching and his eyes closing. Mistaking his sharp inhalation for a grimace of pain instead of the exclamation of arousal, she attempted to roll back from him. He muttered a terse, 'hold on', into the phone, setting it on his upper chest and turned to her. The corners of his lips curving upward, he grabbed her leg behind the knee and set it back over him, holding her in place as he lifted his hips against her weight. Nudging at her nose with his, he mouthed, "Don't move a muscle, Scully," and picked the phone back up. The warmth of his fingers tracing circles on her arm was almost enough to lull her back to sleep, but the feel of his voice as it rumbled in his chest and the not-so-subtle twitching of his arousal beneath her thigh canceled out the effect of his fingers. The man was a study in contrasts she mused, and right now, his barely contained raw sexuality and sensuality were dueling for her attention. The former was winning. "She's right here with me." Scully looked up, connecting with Mulder's mischievous wink. 'Who is it?' She inched up his body to whisper in his ear. He handed her the phone, watching for the smile of recognition, followed by the rolling eyes when Frohike greeted her. Leaning in close, he could just make out the tail end of what sounded like some variation of a patented 'Hike quip. Shaking her head, she handed the phone back to her partner, but stayed within earshot. "What've you got for me?" Mulder could hear the distinct voices of the little man's partners in all things conspiracy and technology in the background. And, by the tonal quality, a little friendly disagreement was afoot. Nothing new for this trio. Mulder grabbed Scully's wrist, detaching her fingers from his left nipple. His action earned him a decidedly wicked grin. A rather interesting variation on the Mona Lisa smile, but clearly more enigmatic... "What's she working on?" He asked, although he was fairly sure he already knew the answer as he replayed a snippet of their conversation in his mind. Mulder drew in a sharp breath and then moaned deep in his throat, the low and slightly raw sound drawing the Gunman's question. "What else did you find? Who's she contacting?" He was past the point of caring what his partners in crime thought since they had long ago known of his relationship with Scully. However, he was planning just how to pay her back for the fun she seemed to be having at his expense. Although he would privately acknowledge he was enjoying himself. Mulder shifted the phone to his other hand partly because it seemed as if Scully had lost interest in hearing the words directly from Melvin's mouth. And partly because he needed his left hand free to try to disengage his suddenly very awake and very horny partner from certain parts of his anatomy. She could drive him to distraction. He liked that quality in her. Very much. Frohike's information was painting a rather alarming picture. Fowley had indeed made some inroads into the science behind the paste, but what she was planning on doing with her new-found details, Mulder didn't want to contemplate too closely. And he couldn't, thanks to the red-haired temptress who almost literally had him by the... He dropped the phone. "Scuhhleee...ahhhh" Attempting to lift his head from the pillow to get a better look was futile and quite unnecessary. He didn't need to see to know that the drawstring to his pajama bottoms was completely slack and that her wet and warm mouth was performing miracles on him. But it was too much and not enough. Considering that Frohike might receive an earful of X-rated sound effects -- and enjoy it -- he tossed a pillow down over the phone and then reached underneath the blankets, his fingers tangling in the length of her hair. Most likely mistaking his action as encouragement, she pushed the top sheet and lapped at him enthusiastically. Mulder's eyes rolled back into his head as he bit his lip. "Scully, get up here. Now," he managed to husk out. As dexterous as he was clever, he managed to relieve her of his tee as she slithered her way up his body. "What's the matter, partner, can't take the heat?" Her words dripped with barely contained erotic humor. "Shut up, Scully," he told her just before curling his fingers around her upper arms and pulling her down on top of him. "I can't kiss you when..." She made sure he didn't finish his sentence, her lips erasing his smug grin and smart-ass retort. As his tongue parted her lips and chased around her mouth, she marveled at how quickly he could shift his attention. And really zero that attention in on what mattered. Clad only in her silk panties, she was fast being swept away by the feel of his hands that had moved inside the flimsy material and were kneading her behind, coaxing her -- as if she needed any coaxing where he was concerned. His hard length lay against his belly...and along the groove of her heat. She moaned as her nipples pressed into his bare chest and his head turned and angled to find just the right position to sear her mouth with his. Sensory overload. He was sure she was going to take him over the top the way she was moving on him like a sex-starved kitten. Her bent legs framed his hips, the heat of their skin electric. And while the sweet taste of her lips and the way her tongue flitted around inside his mouth ranked right up there on his Top Ten List of Things to do with Scully, it was the way she was gliding back and forth over him, the way they were humping like a pair of randy adolescents that threatened to push him to his limit. ^*^*^*^ Office of Chief Alana Ennis Burlington Police Department 1 North Avenue Saturday, 23 September 10:00AM Scully distractedly held the cup of vending machine coffee while she waited for Kimberley to arrive. No matter how hard she tried to wrap her mind around her reason for being here, she tended to veer off in one of two distinct directions: the fact that Diana Fowley was once again on her doorstep or waking up in Mulder's bed this morning at the Boardinghouse. No real decision about which path she'd rather pursue...although her mind didn't seem to be paying much attention at the moment. She stood, the faint sound of the vinyl seat creaking, unnoticed. Tugging her cropped hunter green jacket into place over her matching slacks, she paced the 12 X 14 office. Having swallowed the last of the now-cold coffee, she deposited the cup in the small trashcan alongside the Chief's desk. Diana. Would that woman never give up? Never give either her or Mulder a moment's respite? She chided herself for her questions. They came from a weakened point-of-view, from a hapless and helpless stance. Neither of which defined who Dana Katherine Scully was, who Fox William Mulder was. Who *they* were when they were together. If she truly believed in her upbringing, in the tenets of her religious background, 'what doesn't kill you will only make you stronger' would fit nicely here. Or maybe it was 'God only gives us that which we can handle'. She sincerely hoped that He wasn't thinking about her having to 'handle' any more from Diana Fowley. At least this time, she wouldn't be working as a team of one. She knew without a doubt that Mulder would work with her this time. Together, the sum of them was stronger than each of them individually. She'd only pieced together small bits of information so far about why the woman was in Vermont, but she was sure that most of it had to do with Mulder, no matter what she said to the contrary. In that way, the former Agent was completely transparent. Well, she mused; she and the dark-haired woman did have something in common -- their love of Mulder. Had Scully been one to gloat now would have been a very opportune time. Instead, she allowed herself a rather self-satisfied smile as she adjusted the gold clip holding her hair back at the nape of her neck. She checked her watch one more time, wondering what had become of the Police Chief and Kimberley. Heading to the outer office suite, she inquired, only to find out that Alana had been called out on an emergency. Asking to use the phone, she then called her friend. After being informed by Bryan that she was on the way, Scully went back inside and took a seat by the window. Her mind returned once again to the tall brunette woman's research escapades as shared by Frohike this morning. In order to stay a step ahead of her, they were going to have to figure out what she already knew...and then extrapolate a motive, a purpose behind her research. It couldn't be as simple as Diana needing answers to what had happened to her. She'd been a failed attempt at some weird science. And Scully seriously doubted that Fowley was merely curious. No. She had other plans. The use for the paste and the portal were only somewhat obvious to the petite redhead. Transportation. But to where? How? From what she'd learned in the lab so far, the previous experiments had met with failure -- extreme and irreversible failure. The only thing she knew so far was that one of the major properties of the paste was its catalyst abilities and that it caused a thermo-reaction in the subject. She was missing something. Something key. She was tempted to retrace Diana's steps and made a mental note to contact Frohike herself for assistance. Suddenly, an image of the bespectacled man finding himself privy to the scene at the boardinghouse this morning came to mind. Much as he slung the innuendo, giving her partner some stiff competition, she was sure the Lone Gunman was probably somewhat embarrassed. She was also just as sure that he would have parlayed his experience into quite the embellished story for Byers' and Langly's benefit. Shifting in her seat, Scully felt the color rise in her own cheeks as she pictured the object of her affection lying beneath her, the heat of his body igniting with hers, the feel of his... "Dana? Hello, Dana? Whatever you're thinking about must be rather agreeable given the look on your face." Kimberley's crisp words shook Scully from her *very* agreeable thoughts. And wrenched her right back to the present. "Oh, good morning, Kimberley. Chief Ennis got called away, but they thought she might return soon." Her inability to totally school her expression didn't go unnoticed by the taller woman, but she did not pursue it. "Well, what can we get started on?" "I was hoping we could go back over the Burlington Ferry case and the possible tie-ins to my research and what you alluded to from across the border. Something tells me there's a connection here." Scully had already headed for the door, walking toward the conference room where the Chief had placed the files. Kimberley's longer strides drew her up alongside Scully as they moved through the main reception area and holding bay. "Do you and that suave partner of yours have plans for tonight Dana?" The taller woman had stopped, her hand on the shorter woman's arm. The clear blue eyes were the only give away to her surprise she felt at her friend's question. "I'm not sure if Mulder has plans tonight, but I don't. What did you have in mind?" "Well, I was thinking that the four of us should go out for a light dinner, drinks and maybe a little dancing. You know, give us some time to get to know each other a little better since it looks like at least three of us will be working together for the foreseeable future. Might be nice to get out for a change. What do you say?" Scully noted that while the tone was inviting, Kimberley's look suggested that she'd really love it if the answer was 'yes, I think it's a fine idea'. "Let me call Mulder while we wait." Flipping her phone open, she walked back toward the reception area. The blonde could barely make out her words, but by the soft giggles and the sometimes ear-to-ear grin, she correctly assumed the four of them would be sharing a night on the town. "So?" "So, tell me where, and we'll meet you around seven?" Scully surprised herself with the obvious excitement in her tone. It wasn't that she didn't enjoy going out, it's just that she could count the number of times Mulder and her 'double-dated' on one hand...and the hand didn't even need all five fingers. The closest they'd come lately was their time with Joani and Mitch, the fellow Agents they'd met while working on the case in Connecticut. Then again, the closet they'd come to even getting out alone together had been rather non-existent since this summer. Well she'd change that, she was looking forward to some downtime. She found herself enjoying getting to know her sister's friend and her partner. Mulder seemed comfortable with them too. Then again, Mulder seemed to warm to new acquaintances much easier than she did. "Did I say something amusing Dana?" Kimberley's head tilted to one side, her gray/blue eyes mirthful. "What? Oh, no. No. I was just thinking about how much I'd like to join you and Bryan tonight." Scully's recovery was as polished as ever. "*I*? What about that wonderful partner of yours? Won't he be joining us?" "He, um, said he'd love to." Her response elicited a warm flush to her neck and cheeks as she recalled what Mulder had actually said in response. "Let's go check out the evidence the Chief's left us." "All right. We'll meet you two at seven at the Breakwater Cafe at the King Street Ferry Dock. Tonight they're featuring a homegrown group. The cover a lot of Marvin Gaye and Barry White and their music really makes you want to move. Bryan's a Marvin Gaye fan from way back. Their barbecue is also legendary in northern New England." The combination of the music and the food piqued the FBI Agent's interest. Sensual music and Mulder...a nice combination. "Ladies?" The Chief approached them, extending her hands to shake theirs. "I hope I haven't kept you waiting too long?" She continued to walk past them as she spoke, leading them into the Conference Room. Professionally friendly, she smiled as she set the folders in front of Scully and Kimberley, indicating that they should sit. "What've we got here?" Kimberley opened the folder, flipping through the various reports and a small stack of photos. She stopped when she saw the fifth 8 X 10 glossy. "Kimberley?" Scully leaned over, quickly glancing from her friend's face to the picture and back again. She noted the startled recognition in the blonde woman's eyes, that mixture of shock and familiarity. Sensing that a breather was called for, the Agent shifted her attention to the Burlington investigator. "What are these files, Chief?" Alana had taken note of Kimberley's reaction as well, but thought she knew the cause. "Well, these two folders include the other cases with a substance similar to what you're researching and the evidence from Cat Island. Your friend is holding the Canadian case from five years back." Turning her attention across the table, she addressed Ms. Kresge. "You were one of the reporting officers on that one, were you not?" Now it was Scully's turn to look surprised. She didn't expect to know everything about Missy's friend and her career, but her case focus just narrowed considerably -- while widening similarly. While she wasn't inexperienced enough to believe that this phenomenon could only be local, she wondered at the possibilities of its leap across the national border. Someone was truly well-organized. To rather frightening proportions. "I was. One of my first cases in my new position." Still gripping the photo, she leaned back against the worn leather chair and spoke, her eyes never leaving the images before her. "I had a crackerjack partner and I was calling the shots on this one." Scully watched as she finally lay the folder back onto the polished wood surface, pushed the chair away from the table and stood. The blonde woman's words took on that quality reminiscent of one replaying a point in time, narrating as it unfurled in her mind's eye once again. "The Captain had received an anonymous tip. Oh, he hated those with a passion but knew better than to dismiss them out of hand. The caller muttered something about a weird ritual being performed on the 401 highway. Now, we, like most local law enforcement, get a lot of crank calls from those that enjoy making us look foolish, but there must have been something in the tone of that voice that lent credence to his story. "My partner, Brenden, was already on point, his weapon unholstered. He assumed his position by the side of the car. I had just signaled to the back up teams. All eyes were focused on the slight clearing that preceded the deeply wooded area by the side of the road. They must have been only about 300 meters from us, but they didn't seem to notice us. Or maybe it didn't matter because they thought there was nothing we could do?" She paused then, walking to the water cooler. As she bent to withdraw a paper cup from the clear plastic sleeve, she straightened, turning back toward the other two women. "Dana, describe the properties of the substance you've been testing." Although her expression asked the question, her words merely answered it. "Nothing's conclusive at this point, but what I do know is that it has an official name, 'conduction tincture 54'or CT54. Two of the yet-unidentified chemicals appear to be responsible for transport. For 'conducting' the subject from one state of being to another." She smiled then noting the skeptical looks, not unlike her own, from both law enforcement officers. Holding her hand up to ward off the onslaught she continued. "It does sound just a bit like an episode of Star Trek, doesn't it? However, further chemical analysis of the white compound revealed catalyst characteristics and thermal reactive properties when in contact with the skin. However, given my alleged reaction and symptoms, I believe that some other interaction is at work as well." The Chief had remained quiet, watching and listening closely the interchange between the two other women. Silently, she pulled together the bits of information she was hearing, the puzzle pieces connecting, one corner forming. This was not a puzzle she wanted to finish. Unless the final picture could put a stop to what she considered a rather hideous foray into the technological age of international illicit drugs trafficking. Kimberley had moved back to the table, perching on the edge, her arms crossed in front of her. Scully remained standing in front of her mirroring her pose. "What happened when you and your partner moved in?" "Well, this will probably sound like a bad B-movie script. I'd radioed for more back-up. I'm still not sure why, there were only three possible perpetrators. Brenden and I fanned out, drew closer to the tree line and watched as the dark haired woman seemed to be swiping some substance on the forehead of the man with his wrists tied behind him. We had come up behind them, trying to flank them, announcing ourselves, but also trying to be sure we were seeing a possible crime in progress. They'd somehow erected an archway structure deeper into the wooded grove, although it looked more like a crude stage set than anything capable of what we were about to observe." Scully's face flushed, her fingers trailing to the space between her eyebrows absentmindedly. "Agent Scully?" Alana approached, her hand on Scully's elbow. "Are you all right? You look a little flushed." "What? Oh no, I'm really ok." She waved off the concern and turned then toward Kimberley, asking her to continue, knowing what she was about to hear. "Strange doesn't begin to describe what happened next. Our back up had arrived as we moved in, calling ahead, weapons trained. Although we had the three secured, they'd managed to shove the shackled man forward toward the arch. He seemed to disappear in the space between the frame. Vanished before our eyes. As incredulous as that sounds. As much as it sounds amazingly like what the suspect would try to claim in his or her own defense." A wry chuckle escaped her lips. Luckily, Alana and Kimberley were close by when the dizziness and disorientation hit her once again. Scully's vision swam slightly, small gray and sharper white lights dotting the space in front of her and then returning to normal once again. Two sets of arms supported her, guiding her into a chair. The alarm in Kimberley's voice registered loud and clear and the redhead tried to suppress a rueful grin. In the short time she'd actually know the woman, Kimberley had already seen Scully in the hospital... Not a way to convince people that she was 'fine'. "Dana? Maybe we should call an ambulance? Mulder? How about--?" The Chief handed Scully a small paper cup of water and watched as she gulped it. Rising to fetch another, the Agent thanked her. "No, I'm going to be ok, just felt a little lightheaded. I'm actually much better now. I only had time for coffee this morning; probably a combination of the caffeine and my empty stomach." The color had returned to her face quickly, but she could feel the slight racing of her heart. Nerves. That's what it had to be. The similarities in the Cat Island and Toronto cases and the possibility of more similarities in northern New England. This group got around... She had no doubts that it was most likely the same group, but how was it tied with the drug trafficking? Was it tied in? Well, evidence was beginning to strongly point in that direction. A small smile quirked the corners of her lips. "Dana?" Kimberley's furrowed brow line and smile clearly expressed the same combination of amusement and question she was also feeling. She hesitated to give voice to her thoughts. Her thoughts that had her wondering if whoever developed this paste had planned to use it to transport the drugs without the use of common, traceable transportation. Now there was a leap if ever she'd conceived of one. Her partner would be proud. Her smile grew. As did the questioning looks from the others. ^*^*^