^*^*^ Breakwater Club Bryan tapped Mulder on the shoulder again when the first time hadn't seen to get the chestnut haired man's attention. "Think you two would like to take a break and have something to eat or drink?" He smiled and nodded in the direction of the alcove as Mulder took Scully's hand. Kimberley had ordered a round of Bock's and two sides of nachos--one with fajita chicken and one without meat. "So, your trip went well, Mulder?" Leaning in to take some nachos from the serving plate, she raised an eyebrow, her head tilting to one side, as she slid back to lean against her partner. She knew that the FBI Agent really wouldn't be able to discuss much, so she expected the answer she got. "Actually, I think it went rather well, yes." Mulder took some of the hot, gooey cheese-covered chips and placed them between him and Scully. Glancing over at her, he offered her a bite of his nachos. The responding 'mmmm' as her mouth took the morsel from his fingers made him squirm. In a good way. Mulder mused that this was turning into an interesting night out with Kimberley and Bryan. If the intention was to give them more time together to get to know each other, they were going at it in a roundabout way; neither couple having spoken more than a few friendly, but perfunctory words. However, he also appreciated their companionable silence. It gave him more time with Scully. A rather intoxicated Scully. Who also happened to look ravishing. He was starting to relax from the effervescence of the heady brew and realized he was actually enjoying himself. He couldn't remember the last time he'd done that in public with anyone other than his partner. Scully glanced over at the thoughtful man sitting beside her. He was contemplating...and grinning. A sweet enigma of a man. Turning to take a hold of her mug, she noticed that her friends were no longer in the booth, but couldn't recall when they'd left or where they'd gone. Kimberley's wrap was still lying across the back of the booth, so they were probably on the dance floor again. Which was exactly where she wanted to be. "Mulder?" She leaned into him, her lips at his ear. "Mmm, Scully?" He set his beer on the table and turned to her, one hand resting on her knee, fingers idly sweeping toward her inner thigh. Inhaling sharply she tried to decide whether the one more than a few beers or Mulder's fingers on her bare skin was responsible for the warm flush radiating through her. If she were pressed to say, she might have to equivocate and claim 'both'. No matter... "Dance floor, Mulder. Love this song...sexy." She attempted to push him along the length of the booth, but his hand wouldn't leave her leg. "You are sexy, Scully," he crooned, "C'mere." He lifted her leg onto his noticing just how much more he exposed in the process. By the look in her eyes, he was pretty sure she wasn't bothered too much by it. Leaning in closer still, he whispered, "Love this song too, partner." Dancing. She *really* wanted the feel of him moving against her again. She couldn't remember how long it had been since she'd enjoyed nothing more than the pure primal feel of her body as it let loose to the music. When had she last gone dancing? She wondered if he could see the slight frown that creased her face, but figured that between the dim lighting and the fact that he'd positioned her outer thigh against the rather prominent bulge in his jeans, it might have gone unnoticed. Besides, she wasn't sure why she was even bothering to try to remember the last time when she had *this* time. And this time, she had the man that she loved. "Get up, Mulder." Attempts at freeing her leg from his hold were initially unsuccessful. "I *am* up, Scully, or hadn't you noticed?" One hand was splayed on her inner thigh as he thrust against her outer. "Mulder? I may have had a few, but I can recognize the anatomical changes in your lower body when aroused. Stimulus-response. It's pure biology. The average male in your age bracket experiences an erection approximately..." "My *age* bracket?" She wanted to laugh at his look of bemused indignation. At the way he zoned in on only one part of her pronunciation. Ignoring his question, her left arm snaked around his neck and she drew his face to her. "Now, release my leg, *Big* Boy," she dropped her hand between her thigh and his fly, emphasizing 'Big' as she pulled her leg away, "And take me onto the dance floor." Planting a wet kiss on his jaw-line, she took his hand as he stood. As the night wore on, the crowd had grown. Together yet separate. The music had a way of wrapping each pair of dancers in their own little worlds, rendering them all but invisible to others. Which suited Scully just fine. Not one usually into public displays of the groping nature, she wanted nothing more than to attach herself to her partner and kiss him until neither of them had any spare breath to share. It seemed he had the same idea as he swept her into his arms again. He took her left hand in his right and brought it to his chest, holding it between them as his left arm circled her waist. Her senses reeled as he nibbled his way along the right side of her face to her ear and then her throat. The pulsing strains of the sax cleverly covered her sigh as it rode the tail edge of her deep-throated moan. "I should take you dancing more often, G-Woman." "Yes you should G-Man." Both her arms reached up so her fingers could trail through the short hairs at the nape of his neck. And his right hand stayed between them, cupping her breast, the sheer top and second-skin bra doing nothing to mask the sensation of his warmth on her. "Mulder?" "Scully?" "I'll be right back..." She smiled impishly at the look on his face. "Ladies' Room." Mulder was waiting in the smaller bar area as she approached. Beer in hand, his head was keeping time the beat of the current CD that replaced the band on break. He was leaning into the wall, one leg bent at the knee, his boot heel against the wood paneling. He looked good. No, she silently amended, he looked damn good. His tall athletically lanky frame, the tight fit of his jeans as they outlined his butt and long legs, the way the waistband rested on his taut abs. The sight of him made her wonder why she was still rooted in place several feet away from him. He'd been waiting, had seen her with his peripheral vision as she stood there watching him. He was slightly amused and definitely turned on. They both loved to steal moments when they could to check each other out. Probably a throw back to the days when that was all they could do and they'd perfected it, making it an art form. He set the beer down on the bar counter and looked in her direction, motioning with his head that she should join him. Now it was his turn to observe as she moved toward him. The skirt that highlighted the subtly sensuous curves of her hips and thighs, the bare whisper of a top and her hair... He really loved the length. It gave her a decidedly classy look. He loved to run his hands through it even more. Images of her overtaken by passion, tilting her head back, the warm flame tresses flowing behind her or teasing his body flashed in his mind. And then she was beside him, standing shoulder to upper arm. Standing now with both feet on the floor, he placed her in front of him, her back to his chest, and wrapped his arms; one between her chest and shoulders, one under her top over her abs. As the band made their way back to their staging area, the lights dimmed once again and Club goers returned to tables or the made their way to the dance floor. The bass guitars and drums took up a steady rhythm overlaid with sax and keyboard. The music sounded like Scully felt as she leaned into her partner a little more, her weight shifting very slowly from one hip to the other. His warm breath as he bent over her added to the heavy and languid movements of his lower body as it moved forward and back in counterpoint to her side to side. "How does this feel, Scully?" Low, dark and nearly a moan in her ear. Her hands sought any part of him she could reach behind her, black denim thigh on one side, the crease where his quads met his gluteals on the other. "It feels like I want more." She barely heard the heel on wood scrape as his left boot lined up with her leather slide and nudged her legs apart, opening her to him. Her right hand clutched his arm around her middle tighter still as the fingers of her left groped his thigh. "More?" His tongue thrust into her ear and then around the shell, teasing, promising. Her hand followed his as his fingers crawled along her quivering abs, higher, just grazing the satiny underside of her bra. "Mmm...more..." Was she begging? Did she care? Arching toward the heat of his hand placed her sexy rear squarely against the solid length of him. It was almost too much sensation. Almost. But not quite. He nipped at her lobe in surprised response before his left hand gripped her hip. He wasn't about to let something that felt this good get away. "God, Scully." "Mulder?" "Hmmm?" He wasn't feeling very verbal at the moment, his hands now slung low around her hips, gently, but insistently guiding their synchronous movements. The slower than slow creep of his hand along the front of her thigh sent a shiver up her spine. "Kiss me," she whispered, unheard above the din of the bass, her hands reaching up and behind her to pull him to her. She noted how well he understood her as his lips seared hers. Hot. Wet. Hungry. His tongue mating with hers. His fingers pushing the fabric upward, dancing over her inner thigh. Skirt over rounded hips met denim over solid heat as she swayed into and against him, trying to fuse them. As the kiss deepened, her knees buckled. One firm arm steadied her. "Let's get out of here, Scully," he growled, his lips brushing her ear. Low lighting camouflaged the flush in his face as he asked the bartender to call them a cab. The man merely nodded as he took a break from drying stemware. The smaller service area bar hadn't seen that type of action in months the server mused as he reached for the portable. Meanwhile, Mulder downed the almost tepid beer and set off to find his partner who'd headed over to tell Kimberely and Bryan that they were leaving. He made his way to the main entry and turned to watch her slightly unsteady approach. Unsteady but...even from a distance he could make out the look in her eyes. Her eyes that always told him so much, spoke to him even when the words didn't come. Well, right now, they were speaking to him loudly and quite clearly. The tilt of her head said 'sultry'. The eyes alone said 'primal' and maybe 'lethal', but most definitely 'aroused as hell'. God he loved this woman. And was about as turned on by her as he could ever remember. She was drawing nearer, but taking her time about it. He knew she could make out his smirk, followed by the slightest shake of his head. It was fine by him. The entire time at the Breakwater was turning into one hot date. He bet that wasn't exactly what Scully's friends had in mind when they invited them but they didn't seem to mind knowing they were leaving. She stepped under the criss-crossing colored ceiling lights, a sharp flash of red cutting a diagonal swath across her gauzy top. The yellow beam that followed it stroked her chest, the two points beneath the gossamer fabric telling him his earlier assessment was accurate. He had one highly aroused partner on his hands. Or he would as soon as she got her sweet ass over to him. "What're you looking at, Mulder?" Taking his hand in hers, she stood on tiptoes and gave him a chaste kiss. One that certainly belied the current she felt pass between them even before his fingers twined with hers. Well, she could 'look', too. And what a fine sight he was. If she were to go into her more clinical mode, she would note the flush of his skin due to the increased blood flow which was in direct correlation to his rapidly increasing heart rate which was in direct correlation to his aroused state which was...she had enough 'clinical noting'. This was actually one of her favorite Mulder looks. The look that said, 'Move now, Scully or pay the consequences.' The way she was feeling, she'd gladly pay the consequences...with interest. He was the one to finally get them moving, but only by sheer force of will. By promise of what 'later' might hold. His hands now on her hips, he spun her around, following close behind, nearly attached groin to hips. Shuffling out the door and onto the porch entryway, the wooden slats creaked and groaned under their weight--and Scully, in her rather inebriated and aroused state, coupled with Mulder's unsteady gait, lost her footing, sending her stumbling out of her leather slide. "Scully!" he barked out as he yanked her back toward him, the momentum seating them both heavily on the bench by the railing, her behind between his parted thighs. "Mulder, if you'd watch where you're going, I might--", she groused. Using their unplanned position to his advantage, he wrapped an arm around her chest and turned her face to meet his, taking what he was sure was mock indignation from her and finishing her sentence with, "--you might have missed *this*." Sweet heat. That's all she could think as his lips slid back and forth across hers, tasting, teasing, tempting. As she sunk back into him, her lips parted as his explored, deepening the kiss one degree at a time. "C'mon you two, the meter's running." Mulder's muffled laughter joined hers as they made their way to the waiting cab. "Where to?" The Agents looked at each other shrugging. "You two had a bit much tonight? Good thing neither of you is driving." Scully spoke first. "The Radisson, please." His exasperated and somewhat amused sigh served as his acknowledgment and the Cabbie peeled out of the graveled lot. Scully allowed herself to slide into Mulder as the car banked in its turn, not bothering to readjust her hiked skirt as female thigh met male thigh. Turning to gaze up at him, she traced the shell of his ear as she whispered, "What are you thinking, G-Man?" as her other hand punctuated the question by landing in the crease between upper thigh and zippered fly. Shifting his weight and making a not-so-subtle adjustment in the rather confining denim, he covered her right hand with his, moving her much smaller palm directly over his hardness. "I'm thinking of exactly what I'm going to do when we get back to your room, partner," he also whispered, knowing she would definitely hear the heat in his voice as well as she could feel the heat beneath their hands. She smirked when his left arm slipped over her shoulders, their eyes locked on one another, his grin bordering on feral. She was back in high school once again and her boyfriend was thinking about slyly groping her. , she thought as he managed to do just that; his fingers curling under her breast. When she realized that her head had fallen back against the seat and his mouth covered hers once again, she wondered whether the Cabbie could be paid to keep his eyes on the road. He'd seen it all in his twenty years with the Vermont Cab Company, but his glances in the rearview mirror told him this couple needed a room -- and fast. The taller dark-haired man had managed to somehow get her into his lap barely losing his lip lock on the redheaded looker. And by the sounds she was making, he guessed wherever the man's hand was; she was enjoying it...a lot. Checking his side view mirror next, he noticed that the same car had been with him like glue on paper since he'd pulled onto the main road. In the inky night, all he could tell was that it was some mid-sized sports car and the driver wasn't worried about being noticed. As they moved onto the brightly lit main thoroughfare toward the hotel, the tailing vehicle slowed, putting distance between them, and then veered into the semi-circle. The Valet Parking attendant tipped his hat at the driver's window. At that point, the Cabbie turned his attention back to his fares. "Hey you, lovebirds, time to go find that room." He tried to appear inconspicuous as the woman playfully slapped her partner's hand away from her lap and broke the kiss with a rather wet 'smack'. He bet the man would have to use her as a shield for what was probably a rather large boner, too. Well, no matter -- they tipped him nicely, never even looking at him as the man handed him some bills and she called out, 'thank you'. He sped away to his next fare, never noticing the tall buxom brunette swaggering toward the lobby with a glaring snarl. As Diana approached the revolving lobby doors, she nodded her head at the Doorman, never making eye contact, her eyes instead focused on the two sets of entangled feet behind the potted plants by the bank of elevators. It was obvious Fox had pinned Dana against the wall, his left leg wedged between hers. In full Jealous Woman mode, former Agent Fowley stood off to one side to regain her composure. She watched the obscene display as *that woman* tilted her head and parted her lips wider, probably to accept Fox's tongue. Diana seethed as his hands found Dana's waist, holding her in place as he thrust against the petite woman. Well, she knew full well what was about to happen when the 'ding' announced the elevator's arrival in the lobby. She waited until the doors had closed and then called the second car. ^*^*^*^ Radisson Penthouse Suite Later the same night She was busy -- and that was putting it mildly. However, it was highly fortuitous that she had planned ahead, considering any and all possibilities. "Strategize--contingencies count." Her mentor -- or at least he who dared to consider himself as such -- was fond of those words. Maybe just a little too fond. But she had learned well occasionally at his side. Reviewing the set up mentally, she smiled. The suite was small by any sane person's standards, but it would suit her purpose. One room stripped of its oak paneling to reveal gray cinderblock walls. All light fixtures had been removed and replaced with specially designed, extra bright halogen lamps encased in temperature buffering triple-thick plexi-glass. The near-blinding lighting had been randomly placed and spaced floor to ceiling in six-inch square mountings flush with the cinderblocks. An inflated Aero-Bed was situated in the far north corner of the 8X10 foot room. The only other furnishing in the windowless temporary habitat was the padded pedestal chair with retractable restraints. Her adjoining room was equipped to allow her, Ward and sometimes Bishop, moderate accommodations for one-week increments. Flat-screen TV, video monitors which viewed the cell and the building's perimeter and enough computers to make Silicon Valley look bare -- just a sampling of the highest technology money and connections could buy. She valued her connections and had spent years carefully wooing, cultivating and grooming them. The most recent acquisitions were the brilliant cadre of scientists, hand-chosen from a multitude of those vying to participate in the research -- to have a name and a place in history for themselves. She found her mind wandering, thinking back to her first encounter with the team... ^*^ 'White Paste' Such a mundane name for that which would prove to be her crowning glory. That which would undo the years of wrongs she'd had to endure. Her most coveted team leader, Aja Sonjah, smiled at Diana's pet name for the substance. Ms. Sonjah described it in its full chemically correct content but suggested the lay person's term, Catalytic Thermo Jump'. The team referred to it primarily as CTJ or 'Jump' for short. Aja Sonjah, the willowy doe-eyed scientist was ecstatic at the sooner than expected chance to test the final and most up-to-date incarnation. Her cherry-stained ample lips curled and then pursed into a smug smirk at the previous supposed clinical trials. The failed trials.Absent-mindedly grabbing a hank of her thick, board-straight hair, she deftly twisted it into a spiral and clasped it neatly out of her way. The Fowley woman -- her immediate supervisor and the project's benefactor -- was cunning. The kind of cunning Aja had only been associated with in the upper-most echelons of the crossover community where scientist met mastermind to join in high stakes games outside the mainstream. Dr. Sonjah had been recruited when she returned from Seoul and brought her research skills to Sloan-Kettering Labs in the northeast. The trail grew convoluted at that juncture, but she had joined Proteus' team, safely ensconced at the top. Her connections told her to be wary of everyone associated with this project but most of all of the of the woman former FBI Agent. Word had it that her own exposure to Jump in her unprepared state coupled with an almost maniacal infatuation with another Agent had pushed her envelope just a little too far. Her intelligence wasn't in question and Aja had a grudging appreciation for that aspect of her boss's psyche but her social interaction skills were all over the scale and the scientist had learned early on to go with the flow. Sitting at her computer terminal, the researcher called up the report on the newest test subject: medical doctor, forensic pathologist, Quantico faculty, FBI Special Agent assigned to the X-Files 1993-present, partnered with Fox William Mulder. What was Supervisor Fowley doing using an Agent of the Bureau as a test subject? Talk about high profile. Reading further, now studying Diana's, Ward's and Jorge's surveillance reports, the picture began to gel. Noting the FBI's original call on this case early in the summer when CTJ was still in its earliest stages, she noted that Diana had asked this Agent Mulder to assist her. Agent Dana Katherine Scully, 37 years of age, 5'2", red hair, blue eyes, was most likely a little more 'partnerly' with said Agent Mulder. The very same Agent Mulder who was the object of Diana's obsession. Dr. Aja Sonjah knew who signed her paychecks and continued her studies. ^*^*^*^ Radisson Hotel Sunday, 24 September 9:00AM He had a puppy. He'd always wanted one as a child, but there had been the arguments about who would care for the dog, how irresponsible he was, etc. He'd never gotten that puppy. But maybe that wasn't true. This puppy liked to lick his face and was now also licking his ear. No -- the puppy was darting its tongue into his ear then nipping at his earlobe. Somehow, said puppy also had rather long legs and hot little paws that were rubbing against his calves and -- Emerging from the hot cocoon of his dreams, he felt Scully's foot trying to wedge its way between his legs, her very naked and very soft belly pressing against his ass. She'd relinquished her tongue and teeth assault on his ear and headed for his neck and shoulder instead. Their legs tangled in the comforter and top sheet as he tried to push back into her, his eyes still closed, but fluttering with the attention she was lavishing on him. Having succeeded in insinuating her leg between his, she made her next move. "God, Scully," was all he could manage as her very hot little hand gripped him and stroked him. "Morning, Mulder," she purred before continuing her ministrations, pleased at how he thrust into her hand. "I want to kiss you." Trying to roll onto his back to fulfill her request got him nowhere. "Uh, Scully?" Opening his eyes in a lazy blink, a slow smile spread across his face. Disengaging her leg from between his, she swung it over his hip, drawing him backward and into her. As she let her hand trail over his length and then rest on his hip, he made his move. "C'mere Scully," was all the warning she got as one arm reached for her, the sudden movement propelling her on top of him chest to chest. Her surprised 'ooaf' made him laugh but the feel of her heat straddling his hips took his breath away. Gazing up at her with a smile that spoke of pure adoration and unadulterated lust, he replied low-voiced, "Morning, Scully." ^*^*^ Stenhauser Construction Site Essex Junction 10:37AM The picnic tables were arranged end-to-end and had been sanded, stripped and repainted just for the occasion. The requisite stainless steel water pitchers and goblets were set around the table, along with the navy leather pad folios. Seating for six plus the big boss. Tanner Roscoe was part of the front team, he and Slug helping to coordinate the site set-up. "Big fuckin' waste a money if ya ask me." Tanner didn't hide his disdain for his employer's ways. Slug, on the other hand, was more than willing to jump through any hoop the big guy held out to him. He'd been treated well and had to do relatively little to keep the paychecks rolling in. Heck, if Proteus wanted him to carpet the construction site for a one-hour meeting, he'd lay the stuff himself. "I don't think we're being asked for our opinion, Tanner." The sarcasm in his voice was softened by the tinge of warm humor. He and Tanner had been hired together, coming from very different backgrounds, but had worked well enough together. Roscoe played 'thug' to Slug's 'caretaker' -- roles that suited each of them to a 'tee'. Slug was enjoying his job of looking out for Chris. What had started as a job was fast turning into a budding friendship. Having gone without any male companionship for too long, having been ostracized since childhood, the fact that Chris Arsenault seemed comfortable around him made this assignment easier than most. He occasionally wondered about Chris. Wondered why the tall, affable man with the looker of a girlfriend was in these parts. Oh, Solomon Darmug, a.k.a. 'Slug', knew that the new guy was going to be working for Proteus, but he sensed that there was more there, some other reason the big boss wanted him watched. Most newcomers had an initiation period and were observed closely, but sometimes Slug suspected more. "You daydreamin' again Bub?" Tanner clapped him on the back after the last of the writing utensils were set in place. "Time for us to take our places as the greeters." His nasty sneer wasn't lost on Slug. The two large men ambled over to the main gate, swinging it open just as the first limousine pulled up. Proteus' driver was the first to line up and from there, doors started opening as passengers were disgorged. Tanner recognized the occupants of the next two vehicles: Bishop and his brother Ben, Zale and Jemel. He nudged Slug as the door to the fourth car opened and two rather good-looking women disembarked. "You thinkin' who I'm thinkin'?" Slug nodded, then, realizing his associate wasn't looking at him, he replied, "I'm thinking that's the Fowley woman and her scientist lady. What's her name? Some country, I think? Persia? No, that's not it." Shaking his head and kicking dirt, Tanner supplied, "It's Asia you idiot, but it ain't spelled like the *continent*. It's some funky spelling like 'Aja'. They never got invited before. Not that I seen anyway." Their eyes followed the contingent as they headed for the picnic-turned-conference tables and seated themselves. The conversation and chatting died as soon as Proteus took his rightful place at the head of the table. "So good of you all to come on this fine weekend morning. I'll get right to it. We've got some developments. I'll ask Ms. to bring us all up to speed on our newest recruit." He tipped his head in the blonde woman's direction and then crossed his arms, stepping back from the table, his gaze now toward the grass, turning over the group's attention to her. Jemel stood, her hands stuffed into the pockets of her jeans, the unsnapped cuffs of her jeans jacket flopping over her wrists. She scanned the group from one end to the other paying special attention to the two dark-haired women flanking the end of the table. "Cutting to the chase, Chris Arsenault checks out. Both Zale and I recommend bringing him aboard in full capacity. The guy's got an edge to him and a sarcastic way about him, but he's sharp. He's got an eye for detail and the ability to blend." She paused as Bishop and Ben grumbled and snorted quietly when Chris's sarcasm was mentioned knowing he'd fit in just fine. Her piercing blue eyes locked onto Proteus before she nodded and retook her seat. "All right, then; Chris is in. Bishop? You and Zale set him up with the next shipment. He goes alone, his first job as a full Associate. I want him picking up the formula for Ms. Fowley and Dr. Sonjah." Proteus noticed some commotion at the end of the table and watched, bemused, as the former Agent stood. "You have something to add Diana?" "I do, indeed. Who is this new Associate and why isn't he here? I will not allow--" Her burst of commanding righteousness was cut short by the boss's smirk. "*You* will not allow?" He gazed at those assembled as if he were collectively asking them a question. "Since when have I asked for anyone's opinion on my decisions?" The smile faded dramatically as he approached her where she stood. One hand firmly planted on her shoulder, he indicated that she should sit. The wind neatly snipped from her sails, she tried to regain her composure. "I was merely noting how important the formula is and to be entrusted to someone as green as--" His hand never left her shoulder, the clamping fingers causing her eyes to scrunch. "I've said that we can trust Chris. You'll have your drug. And," letting her go, he moved back to the head of the table, "you'll still have your place on the team if you're wise enough to understand when you've been silenced." ^*^*^ Radisson Hotel Noontime "Mulder, I have to get dressed." "No you don't, Scully." Scully grabbed her pullover out of his hands for the second time, the look in her eyes clearly telling him that this was the final time... The look in his said he was willing to try it again just to make sure. "Yes," shirt firmly in hand, she walked toward the mirrored closet door as she pulled it over her head, "I do. I told you I have to get to the lab this afternoon to work with the team. They've managed to pull in someone well-connected in the European research sector, originally from Seoul. This woman can only be here today and--" Her sharp inhalation was her response to Mulder's large hands...large, warm hands...on her abs from behind. "Okay," he said resignedly, the petulant adolescent in him present and accounted for, "but tonight we get to play." Swatting his hands away half-heartedly, she mouthed, 'Later', as she made her way to the bathroom vanity. Applying a bit of mascara and some gloss, she turned from the mirror, bending over to shake her hair-- And finding a very solid length of Mulder behind her. Plastered to her. So much for waiting till tonight. His lips in her hair, his hands busy, he murmured, "This important person and whatever you have growing in the lab can probably wait a few more minutes, can't they?" Resolute, she tried to bring her hands up from within the arc created by his arms. To no avail. Caught between mild annoyance and irresistible longing, she attempted to remind him of the time and her plans. "Mulder, as nice as this is," the firm, moist touch of his mouth behind her ear bringing a hitching quality to her words, "I have people waiting for me." He didn't miss a beat as his words vibrated against her skin, "I'm 'people' Scully." When his fingers splayed across her hips, settling her firmly against his boxer briefs, she felt the heat of him through her jeans. Mulder seemed to worship at the altar of insatiability and she was quickly becoming a convert. "Mulder...I really *do* have to go." Her words in direct opposition to her hands which somehow managed to find their way to his boxer-clad ass, completing the connection between them. But when, scant minutes later, the hem of her pullover came untucked, she pulled free of his embrace. Sure that her labored breathing and flushed face matched his, she stepped back, leaning heavily against the countertop. Her hand came up, almost begging his understanding, as her eyes swept over his minimally-clothed body. His very aroused minimally-clothed body. "Scully? I think you better go before I..." He didn't have to say anymore. Smiling and then planting a rather chaste kiss on his parted lips, she left the bathroom and grabbed her jacket. As she passed him standing in the doorway, his arms on the doorjamb, she called out huskily, "Looks like you've got a little something to take care of, partner," as her eyes caressed his lower body. Not quite finished with him, she murmured, "I haven't forgotten about these, either," as she traced her fingers lightly over the scratch marks on his cheek. ^*^*^ University of Vermont The Given Building Department of Bio-Chemistry 1:45PM She grabbed her lab coat off the peg by the door, hanging her jacket on the same peg and setting her backpack on the counter. As she moved to the workbench, she pulled her hair back in a covered-elastic and pulled the goggles over her head, letting them hang around her neck until needed. She had a half-hour until the rest of the team and the esteemed doctor arrived, so she took the time to review her notes from her last visit. Depositing her files on the granite top, she then headed for the sub-zero refrigeration unit. Donning the insulated gloves, she removed the samples of CT 154. The control container looked unchanged, but she'd have to put it through its paces first to ensure lack of contamination. It was the test sample that caught her attention. Smiling ruefully, she thought she'd seen it 'bubble' or froth. Immediately suspect, she replaced the sample in the sealed container and pulled on a sterile mask. Incase the reaction harbored airborne particulates. Setting the control sample onto the nearby stainless steel cart, she paused, momentarily losing her balance. Steadying herself, one hand on the ridge of the cart and the other on the counter, she took a deep breath. Willing herself to shake off the slight dizziness as she carried the test sample to the electron microscope in the sealed hood. Shaking her head, she puzzled over the rather sudden appearance of the vertigo. She hadn't experienced it in what seemed like a long time. Since her last encounter with the paste. However, there was one noticeable, one rather large difference. She hadn't also experienced the heat sensation. Sighing, she grabbed a few glass slides, a Petrie dish and a several small non-porous spatulas, and headed for the sterile hood. She was so consumed by her work, she never saw the woman with the straight dark hair in the portaled door. The woman who observed her with an avid stare, a well-trained and scrutinizing eye. The woman who noted her efficient and economical movements, the almost-somber look in her eyes as she prepared the slide with the white paste test sample. Scully leaned over the microscope, absently brushing back several strands of wayward hair that refused to stay in the elastic. Her lips parted as she slowly blinked and moved away from the eyepiece. Taking a breath, she brought her eyes back to the viewing stage and willed herself to 'see' with a fresh approach. But the fresh approach didn't change what she thought she was seeing. Ever the consummate professional, she knew she had to have someone else to corroborate her findings. In truth, what she really wanted was someone to tell her she was really seeing what was happening on the slide. She checked her watch, relieved to note that her colleagues should be on their way and the looked up as she heard the whoosh of the doors parting. "Dr. Scully, you're early." The woman team member who had eagerly volunteered to stay and assist Scully last time smiled as she shrugged into her lab coat and approached the bench. Scully returned the smile as she turned to greet the other members of the team. As they filed in, she saw someone she did not recognize from her first visit. Her eyebrow rose in question, but she remained where she was, assuming this was probably the researcher from Seoul. Dr. Radikel, the seasoned scientist in the group, turned when she realized she had remained just outside the doorframe and gesturing with her arm and nodding her head, she drew the visitor into the lab. "Dr. Sonjah, I'd like you to meet the rest of our team being led by Dr. Dana Scully." A round of handshaking and verbal introductions ended shortly followed by a curious silence. Aja Sonjah was somewhat amused at the wall of white and teal lab coats. All standing with arms crossed in front of them. She idly wondered if they realized just how unwelcoming they appeared. Holding her head high, she walked toward Scully and tipped her head imperceptibly. "I'm very pleased to meet you, Dr. Scully." "Likewise." Scully replied as she assessed the fellow scientist. 'Sharp' was the word that came to mind. She appeared to be in her mid-30s and carried herself with an almost imperious air. The FBI Agent realized that she was making somewhat of a leap given the minimal interaction and even less conversation and told herself that she'd give the woman more time. On the other hand...her years of experience had honed her ability to quickly and accurately read almost any situation. So, she allowed a midline; she'd work with this woman while developing a more informed opinion. Besides, anyone who could assist with the research was most welcome as part of the team. That still left the somewhat nagging question for Scully: how had Dr. Sonjah come to be associated with her project? She wasn't buying what one of the techs had told her. A friend of a friend overseas had learned of the work and wanted in on the discovery. Though the desire to be part of a new venture, to have one's name and reputation attached to the latest research was well-known in the scientific community. "So tell me, Doctor," Scully walked with the brunette to the workbench, "What attracted you to our project? I don't imagine we've gained enough noteworthiness in the Asian market at this point." "'Your' project, Dr. Scully? I hardly see how it qualifies as such, although I must admit I am impressed with the strides you have made almost single-handedly." Aja placed the strings to her mask over her ears and made sure her nose and mouth were both covered. Her next words were slightly muffled, but her proximity to her new research partner allowed her to be heard quite clearly. "We have a mutual benefactor. Now, let's see what you have in the sealed environment." Dr. Radikel watched with guarded humor as the few Techs standing by Scully's side looked to one another quizzically, noting the redhead's raised eyebrow. However, anxious as they were to be in on this momentous process, they took their places and awaited the doctors' instructions. The patented Scully questioning-look was mirrored by her new lab partner. For some reason, she found herself thinking about Mulder, his natural skepticism always in play. She mentally made a note to do a search on the good doctor's file, maybe even calling on the Gunmen to assist her. How ironic that she'd find herself considering that option... Although, after all the years the trio had provided amazingly accurate and extremely beneficial information as well as being counted among the few people she and Mulder could actually call close friends. Meanwhile, Diana Fowley's hired researcher truly was impressed with the progress the petite woman had made on her own. Impressed and concerned. She could not be allowed to continue any further. She knew her boss well. Well enough to tell her that halting Dana Scully's progress was her first job. She was glad that they only had a few more hours in the lab today. It was going to be tough to stall. From what Aja had already observed, the object of Diana's interest was not only methodical, but one of the most meticulous practitioners she'd ever worked with. That meant possibly removing some of the evidence or tampering with it. Another monumental task since Dr. Sonjah herself needed the evidence. ^*^*^ Given Building 7:15PM Tired. Bone tired. Her feet ached, her eyes burned. If it were possible, she'd lay down on the marble counter and take a nap. Her stomach growled, reminding her that she'd turned down a lunch break and, other than her ever-present water bottle, she'd even waved away the offer of a few Dunkin' Munchkins brought in by Dr. Radikel's teenage son. She was paying for her neglect now. Making her way to an open computer terminal, she checked once again to ensure that she was truly alone. Determining the area was secure, she logged into the Bureau's database, typing in 'Sonjah, Aja, MD' and waited for results. She was only mildly surprised when all that scrolled into view was that which she already knew; name, age, DOB, physical characteristics, education and professional affiliations. Even the image matched. Well, she now knew one of two things. Either the good doctor actually existed and her credentials were verifiable. Or they had been planted in the computer by someone with access and a desire to legitimatize her.... And that's why she wasn't satisfied. She had not been able to determine Aja's interest in her project beyond what she'd claimed. It was time for a call to the masters of unearthing conspiracies. It was Langly's voice. "Turn off the tape Langly. And don't make me ask a second time." She hoped he'd catch on the first time. When he spoke again, she was sure he had. She could hear him attempting to cover the mouthpiece and tell Byers and Frohike it was her. Frohike had wrested the receiver from the blond man's hand. "I need your help." "Can it, Melvin," in spite of her need to move the conversation along, she could not help but smile at his question, knowing full well he'd know it. "I need you to run a deep background check, get me anything you can on a Dr. Aja Sonjah. That's spelled: A-J-A S-O-N-J-A-H I've confirmed her identity, but need to know her connection to my research. She pronounces it: 'Asia Sone-yuh'. By the way; I need it yesterday." God he loved it when Scully went all business on him, he mused. She was one tough broad. Make that one tough, beautiful and very smitten broad. Too bad she wasn't smitten with him. She figured she owed them more than this little bit of information and spent a few minutes bringing them up to speed, trying to be patient as the others joined Frohike on the extensions. "Gotta run guys. You're the best." She ended the call before she had to listen to them debate about which of them she was talking. She placed her goggles and facemask in one of the wooden cubbies and then re-hung her lab coat on the wooden peg. She'd set her own jacket over the chair back and pulled the covered elastic from her hair, shaking it free. With a deep sigh, she fished for her car keys and headed for the door. Stopping only when her cell phone chirped. "Scully." In spite of her intense fatigue, she smiled. Did he ever shut down? Well, she knew the answer to that question, but still... "You know very well what I'm wearing, Mulder, since you saw me leave earlier," she quipped dryly, the corners of her mouth resisting the urge to curl upward. "I'm leaving the lab now. Where are you?" Flicking off the overhead lights, she palmed the door open, ignoring his dogged persistence. His unabashed persistence. She idly wondered whether she was too tired to answer that question. Although a few replies did cross her foggy mind... "I want you to be somewhere where we don't have to stay on the phone. I'm tired Mulder." "But I have my car." Snapping the phone closed and shaking her head, she headed for the exit. Noting that her partner was indeed parked right outside the doors, engine running. She noted his grin as she rounded the hood and got in. "Where's my car?" "Bryan drove it back to the hotel." The smug smile played across his face in the diagonal slash of mercury vapor parking lot lights. Slowly turning, she reached to smooth his hair away from his face. And then tugged on his earlobe, getting his attention. "Find me food, Mulder." She marveled at just how quickly he focused his attention on driving. But not without a parting comment and reminder. "Was that ear thing a promise of things to come later? You did promise me more tonight." He kept his eyes on the road as his right hand came up to cover hers and placed it on his thigh. Soothing, warming, comforting. "I remember...I also hadn't planned to spend so much time in the lab without eating. How about you take me to food first and we'll discuss other possibilities after?" When he didn't respond right away, she glanced in his direction, noting his now serious face; the nearly straight line of his lips, the barely furrowed brows. She turned her hand in his until their fingers twined and smiled. "Thanks Mulder." That got his attention. "For what?" But at least the smile had returned and he squeezed her hand. "Just thanks. And don't push your luck. I'm hungry." The drive continued in companionable silence. Like so many other drives in the past and those to come. For ten more minutes... Scully began looking out her window at the sudden absence of retail establishments. This was not looking promising. Mulder spoke seconds before her mouth opened, "We're almost there Scully. Trust me." Sighing and rolling her eyes, she sat back, willing herself not to comment. And as they turned onto Williston Street, she saw the sign for 'Al's French Frys', smirking at the quaint spelling. Stimulus response; she was salivating at the thought of French fries, unable to prevent the slowly widening smile. Mulder swung into the parking lot, noting his partner's hand on the door latch before he'd turned the truck off. "Oh, right; you said you were hungry, didn't you." That earned him a quick glance, but no words, so he laughed. Once inside, Mulder began to read from the menu: "Philly Cheese Steak (with peppers and onions), Sausage (with peppers and onions), Corn Dog, Cheese Dog, Chili Dog, Hot Dog..." "I think I'm sensing a theme here, Mulder. Where are the famed fries?" "Right down here; after the grilled chicken sandwich," he indicated, holding the laminated list in front of her. At that point, the wait staff appeared and Mulder ordered a Philly Cheese Steak with the works and a large plate of steak fries and iced tea for himself and a grilled chicken sandwich and small side of curly fries and iced tea for Scully. Mulder leaned back against the wooden booth, stretching his long legs into the aisle, Nike-clad feet crossed at the ankles. He watched his partner checking out the local color, her chin propped on her knuckles as her eyes moved curiously. She was probably noticing the same thing he was; there were almost as many town residents here as tourists. Always a good sign if the locals thought the food was good enough to eat, he mused. Leaning forward, he clasped his fingers around her wrist, drawing her hand away from her chin and into his. Resting them both on the brightly colored vinyl table-covering. "How'd your work in the lab go?" "Hmm?" she queried absently, her mind clearly not focused. "I asked if you'd made any progress at the lab today," he repeated evenly. Placing her other hand over his, she nodded and then told him about the new scientist. "I'm not sure what to make of her, though. She's bright, credentialed and is familiar with this project..." "I sense a 'but' coming." "But, there's something about her that makes me uneasy. At first I thought it was her attitude, her demeanor. She seemed somewhat haughty at first, but maybe what I saw was a product of her working in a male-dominated profession, her success and possibly her pride in her work. I should be glad and honored to work with her." She smiled. "But you're not?" No judgment rendered, Mulder merely asked to allow her to elaborate. Their conversation paused as their drinks were set on the table. They had started sipping when the rest of the food arrived. The two plates of Al's famous fries were barely set down in between the two Agents when Mulder poked at Scully's curly fries. "These," he hooked one spiral ring onto his index finger, "are not real fries Scully," he declared definitively. "Don't play with my food, Mulder," she warned as she removed it from his finger and bit into it. "Have you ever had a real steak fry?" He reached for a rather large, roughly rectangular plank; the edges golden crisp, and brought it to his partner's lips. He watched raptly as she parted her lips to accept the offering, her teeth neatly taking a dainty bite. "Now is that a real fry or is that a real fry," he asked, pleased with himself for expanding her culinary horizons. "Mmmm..." "That's all you can say?" "Mulder, as good as that was, it tasted like a French fry," she told him, a soft chuff at his somewhat crestfallen look. Silently agreeing to finish their dinner before continuing their discussion, the waiter appeared periodically to refresh drinks and inquire how they were enjoying their meals. His questions were unnecessary as noted by the almost totally clean plates. Mulder set some cash down on the table as the dishes were cleared away, his eyes never leaving the woman sitting opposite him. "So, you were saying about this new researcher?" He watched her processing, gathering her thoughts; the analytical mixing flawlessly with the emotional read before she replied. "As I was saying, she knows a lot about the substance, she's clearly skilled, classically trained. I guess past that, I'm just going to have to wait and see. She's willing to give the time to this project, says it fascinates her...," her voice trailed off as she gazed at her partner, searching his face. "But you can't figure out the reason for her interest. Couldn't it be that her network, her connections know of your work? Isn't it like most research fields; word travels?" He tried to help her frame her reservations because that's what he was getting from her, reservation. He knew that instinctually, she would operate on facts first and feelings second. That she would be comfortable expressing those feelings, but would occasionally need prompting. She seemed to welcome the prompting. "That's it; I can't figure out how she would know of my work." Smiling as she noted his mouth opening to explain for her, she leaned forward and touched his wrist. "I'm well aware of the network in the scientific community, Mulder. But, if you'll recall, my work was kept largely hidden and," she was cut off. "And," he began softly, reluctant to bring up unpleasant memories, "You also remember that before your closely guarded research, others were in possession of the substance. Others who might have already networked...with the wrong people." He laid his hand over hers, his eyes telling her they could end the discussion here. With a knowing look, she nodded. "Guess I was blocking, huh?" "You're tired; we both are. Let's head home." Holding hands, they stood and headed for the truck. Before he could shift into reverse, Scully slid closer to him and turned on the ceiling light. Her fingers trailed over his cheek, her other hand tipping his head to allow the wan illumination to show her the scratches. "Hey Scully, nice bedside manner," he quipped, ineffectually trying to swat her hand away. "Hold still Mulder. You were going to tell me about these?" Satisfied that they'd healed, but curious about the rather uniform formation, she finally turned his face toward her. "You never did say how that happened." Taking the opportunity to turn off the light, he backed out of the parking space. "Someone scratched me. Guess I'm due for some worker's comp. What do you think Skinner would say about it?" His attempt a flip humor hadn't succeeded in distracting her. "Maybe I should inquire as to the special skills of your new associates Mulder?" "I guess you could say that I probably spoke up when my opinion wasn't being sought," he proclaimed, the sarcasm in his voice evident. Even in the darkness of the cab she could make out the slight upturn of his lips. She was relishing the moment. "You, Mulder? Commenting inappropriately? Who would believe that?" The sound of her laughter brought an ear to ear grin to his face. "You're enjoying this entirely too much, Scully. What happened to your medical concern? What if those scratches are infected?" "How unlike you to play on my sympathies. So you still haven't told me who did this to you." Seriousness returned. "Jemel , one of those closer to the top. She was part of my trip to St. Albans Bay." "Hmm...cat-like responses. What does this 'Jemel' look like?" Allowing the slight tinge of smugness, he replied with a question of his own, "What do her looks have to do with it?" "That information is nothing more than what would go in your report Agent," she replied coolly. "Speaking of reports, I think I'm overdue with Skinner." "You're overdue with me Mulder. Tomorrow we layout each other's findings to date and see where they dovetail. Then we both call in." She paused and then added, "I'm actually surprised we haven't heard from him already." "Uh, we might have." "We *might* have, Mulder?" "He might have left me a message on my cell that I might have forgotten to return today." He glanced over at her, noticing how the lack of lighting couldn't hide the raised eyebrow or the slight shake of her head. ^*^*^