A Familiar Heart
Chapter Five


It felt so good... she was protected at last.  In
the arms of a hero, *her* hero, the one who'd
crossed the boundary between freedom and death
for her.  Caressing her intimately, where no one
had dared tread before, he swept away all her
fears with a kiss, a touch.  The horrors of
imprisonment, of pain at the hands of the Nips,
faded away as if they'd never existed.  She
reveled in the way his mouth and tongue drew
passion from her; she gave easily, taking his
strength in return.

"Yes," she hissed, when a bolt of pure pleasure
ignited up from her depths.  God, he plied her
with the fingers of a master, until she couldn't
help but move at his stroking, taut like the
strings of a violin long left on the shelf. 
Singing with low moans and soft pleas for more,
she opened to him, turning her head in a fury of
wanting, of needing completion.

A lift, a few seconds of cool air rushing over
her damp recesses, then he pushed into her,
groaning a prayer at the contact.  The sharp pain
was fleeting, nothing like anything she'd ever
felt.  Embracing it, she shoved up to meet his
thrusts, happiness at the utter sense of
wholeness that enveloped her making her bold.

"Please," she begged, twisting her hands in his
shirt.  She wanted to touch him, to give him
pleasure in return.  She felt his hesitation, but
she seduced his compliance with her mouth,
running it along his jaw, his face, feverish in
her urgency.

He let her go, raising himself up to pull his
flannel shirt over his head.  Lowering his lips
to hers again, he pushed more forcefully into
her, groaning into her mouth.  Her hands, now
free to roam, raked over his sweat-slickened
back, feeling the stretch and tug of muscle over
bone.  They wandered at will, tracing the bumps
along his spine to the flexing buttocks that
pumped into her over and over.  Her short nails
dug in, eliciting a growl from his lips that
traveled down her throat.

Breaking free of their kiss, he pulled his hands
from around her to plant them on the floor beside
her head.  She almost cried out in protest, then
thought better of it, as he loomed over her,
blocking out the meager light from the lamp.  He
consumed her then, in face and body, like a dark
angel whose shadow promised protection and
ultimate joy.  Feeling herself slide under him,
her own damp back giving way under the brunt of
his thrusts, she wrapped her hands around his
neck to keep him with her.  Breathing in time
with him, she watched, loving every nuance of his
face as it shifted in sync with his movements. 
Slack-jawed, his eyes slitted, he panted above
her, his face at once hard and yet bright with
passion.  Just the sight of the ever-growing
creases in his brow told her he was close to
something that she wasn't.  But that was okay;
her pleasure came from watching him, from having
him love her.

Suddenly, he stiffened above her, his eyes
closing as he let out a faint, throaty cry
between clenched teeth.  She felt her body fill
with his seed in several short, hot, bursts, his
hips prolonging the delivery a with slow, intense
grinding that sparked a spasm of electricity low,
where they were still joined.  God, she wanted
more.  She tried to make it last by moving
beneath him, mimicking his moves.

"Don't stop," she whispered, looking into his
relaxing face.

He was so beautiful, his face soft with confusion
and completion.  His eyes searched hers, as if he
were trying to find words.  His body within hers
was semi-hard still; he gave a few weak thrusts,
and she moaned, low and pleading.  But it was no
use... she tried to move with him, to reach for
satisfaction.  The pleasure, moments before
building to some unknown pinnacle, dwindled
rapidly.

Until she felt him shift above her, the slick
heat of his shrinking member replaced with a
double salvo of his calloused fingers.  A sharp
pierce of renewed sparks blossomed under the pull
and slide of his fingers, and her breath caught,
knowing he meant to give her what his premature
finish had denied her.  Thankful that he planned
to help her reach that joyous end, she looked up
at him with a small smile, using the clasp of her
hands to pull his head down for a loving kiss. 
His resistance was immediate, as he shrugged his
shoulders to loose himself.

His voice, when it came, was husky, but cold, and
his gaze hardened.  "Tell me where Chang is,
baby."  Slipping within her, his fingers teased. 
"You want this, you tell me."

Nothing.  It meant nothing to him but a means to
an end.  Hurt filled her body, replacing the
burgeoning happiness in a heartbeat.  He still
thought her someone sent by that Chang person,
whoever the hell that was.  Her hands fell away,
curling into angry fists that hit the floor.  She
felt degraded somehow; what she'd thought of as a
beautiful communion of souls was now a travesty
of real feeling.

He smiled above her, one brow raising.  "I know
you want it... tell me, and I'll give it to you."

Her knuckles felt something cold - his gun!  In
an instant, her hurt flared into anger.  Her
brain hot with revenge, she gripped it and
brought in up with all her might against the side
of his head.  Surprise lit his eyes for a split
second, then he wilted like a spent balloon. 
Using all her strength, she averted his fall upon
her, shoving him off as he dropped into oblivion. 
He landed on his back beside her, out like a
light, the dull thud of his back hitting the
floor echoing in the cabin.

Chest heaving, she scrambled to her feet,
grimacing at the pain in her ankle.  Gun pointed
at him, she shouted, "You son-of-a-bitch!"

Even with bloodlust surging through her veins,
she hoped he wouldn't move, because the last
thing she wanted to do was have to shoot him.  In
fact, when he didn't move for a few moments, she
sucked in a ragged breath of fright.  Cautiously,
she bent down to feel his pulse.  Still strong
and steady.  She touched the forming lump above
his ear, but detected no blood.  She didn't think
she'd caused him any permanent damage, but for a
moment, guilt at the violent way she'd put him
down gnawed at her gut.

That was the least of her worries, however.  He
was such an ornery bastard, she doubted a well-
placed bullet to the heart could bring him down
for good.  No, she might be facing an eventual
charge of assault, but she knew she'd done the
only thing she could to get free.  And if she got
away before he came to, he might never find her.

Lying as he was, his limp penis dotted with blood
and semen, he was a laughable sight.  But she
didn't take time to relish her work - or lament
the loss of her virginity to the cad.  If all she
walked away from the cabin with was a tainted
memory of sex, then she'd count herself lucky. 
Truth of it was, she'd wanted him as badly as he
wanted her, and there was no use painting a
picture of rape in her mind.  Walk on, her father
would say.  Learn from your mistakes, but don't
dwell on them.

Her clothes... she needed her clothes.  She spied
them by the fireplace and scooted around his
prone form, keeping careful distance.

She had to get out of there.  Leave now, before
he came to.  He still was under the mistaken
notion she was some sort of spy, and now, with
her walloping him in the head, he was liable to
strangle her with his bare hands.  In no time,
she'd donned her still damp slacks, coat and
scarf.  Pulling the boots on was a monumental
task, but she managed it.  One hand went to her
head - the knit cap was still in place.  Now,
*that* was a hoot.  She'd been intimate with this
man without even taking her hat off!  Stifling
the giggles that she knew could quickly turn to
hysteria, she looked around for her purse, then
gave up, knowing she didn't have that much time. 
Finally, she moved to him again, gingerly
sneaking into his jeans pocket with a grimace of
distaste, her fingers closing around a ring of
keys.  Dropping the gun next to him, she walked
out of the cabin without a backward glance.

Night had fallen with severe intensity, and the
snowfall had doubled.  She blinked against the
sting of the icy flakes, knowing time was short;
if she could make it into town before everything
closed up, she could have her tire fixed and get
going again.  It must have been close to six
o'clock, but she couldn't see her watch for the
darkness.  Surely a little backwater service
station would stay open until six?  Figuring an
hour to get to town and return, then another hour
to get the tired fixed... damn, she'd have to
turn on the charm to sweettalk her way out of
town in a timely fashion.

The Jeep roared to life under her hands, and she
was grateful for its four-wheel drive capability
as she quickly made her way back to the main
road.  She turned toward her abandoned car - it
was gone.  Good.  That meant the tow truck had
picked it up already.  She quickly turned around
in the direction of Piedmont.

The town was a sleepy little place, with one
diner, a rustic town hall, and a smattering of
dwellings, one with a neon sign proclaiming,
"Jerry's Esso".  The service station was still
lit up, and she sighed with relief when she saw
her car parked in one of the bays.  Calming
herself, she pulled in slowly, listening to the
bell go off in a couple of sharp peals.  A
smiling man, heavily coated against the wind and
snow, came out from the side of her car.

Instead of waiting for him to approach the Jeep,
she got out, forcing a similar smile to her
cheeks.  "Is my car ready?"

Wiping his hands on a soiled cloth, Jerry creased
his brow, taking in the Jeep with a recognizing
nod.  "Mulder said you were spen- " He broke off
with gentlemanly panache, his blush glowing red
in the neon light.  "Sure.  Just finishing up. 
You're lucky.  I was about to close for the
night, Miss Scully."

The use of her name made her freeze.  As if he
noticed her sudden bristling, he quickly
explained, "I had to get the tube size from the
manual in the glovebox, Miss.  Didn't mean no
harm.  Just a little pinprick, but I fixed 'er
right up for ya.  Course, the rim was a might
bent - had to find ya one from out back.  But I
think you're all set to go."

She bit her lip; she hadn't wanted anyone to know
her name, and she knew this Mulder person was
going to come running into town looking for his
Jeep.  But then again, it didn't matter that her
name would most likely make it back to the man in
the cabin.  She would never see him again, and if
she did, she had a father and two brothers who
would cheerfully wring his neck, should she
choose. *After* she herself set him straight - if
he even got that close.

"Miss Scully," he said with a bashful grin.  "You
a friend of Mulder's?  Where is he, anyway?"  He
looked over the Jeep as if expecting someone else
to get out.

"Umm... he started feeling bad," she lied.  Well,
he would feel *very* bad when he woke up, she
mused.  "I think it's something contagious.  He
told me to take the Jeep to retrieve my car. 
Said he'd come by tomorrow to get his Jeep.  That
okay?"

"Sure.  That'll be twelve bucks, for the tube and
the rim," he added, nodding at her car.

Damn.  She had about fifty dollars tucked away in
the glovebox, along with her checkbook, but she
knew that writing a check to this man Jerry meant
the fiend back in the cabin would have her
address.  And she couldn't afford to waste even
the twelve dollars on the tire.  She'd need every
penny of it in gasoline to make it to Maryland,
because now she wasn't stopping at all, not even
to stay at a hotel.  If he decided to follow her,
she didn't want a trail of checks behind her to
point the way.  She'd make it there without
sleeping; she was used to getting little sleep,
anyway.

"M-Mulder." Her tongue tripped over the hated
name.  "He said to put it on his tab?"  God, she
hoped nice, sweet Jerry fell for the ruse.  She
tacked on a hopeful, sweet smile to the request.

"Sure thing, ma'am.  Just let me back it out for
you."

She kept one eye on the road behind her, urging
Jerry on silently.  The faster she could get
away, the better.  The man named Mulder would be
out for maybe a half hour, then dazed for another
hour.  She wanted to be far away when he made it
to Piedmont; and he was coming, she was sure of
it.

"Here ya go, ma'am." Jerry stood beside her, the
driver's door open.  She jumped at his voice; she
hadn't heard the car purr to a stop beside her. 
"You be careful now, okay?"

"Thank you."  She got in and ignored Jerry's wave
goodbye, heading east as if the hounds of hell
were behind her.

After an hour, the snow let up, giving way to a
moonless sky.  After another, she noticed the
cars on the highway slacking up.  Yet another,
and she was alone, speeding home, not a trace of
a car behind her.  She took the first deep breath
since leaving Piedmont, and flipped on the radio,
feeling home grow closer with every second that
went by.

Bing Crosby crooned, "I'll Be Seeing You."

An impatient hand wiped at her cheeks as the
first tear slipped free.


**********


The first thing he noticed when he woke up was
that his head hurt like hell.  And that he was
damned cold.  Groaning, he rolled over, one hand
touching the tender lump under his hair.  What
the hell happened?

Geez, his pants were around his knees, his bare
chest was dappled with gooseflesh... the gun!  He
started, then realized it lay within reach of his
fingers, a few dark hairs clinging to its metal
surface.  For a second, his ears rang with
confusion, as he squinted at the gun.

Then it all came rushing back.  The woman, Chang
- God damn it!  He stumbled to his feeet, yanking
up his boxers and jeans.  The room lurched around
him and he gulped, closing his eyes against the
heavy weight of dizziness.  She was gone, and
chances were, in his Jeep.

Yep.  No keys in his pocket.  He was damned lucky
she hadn't shot him when she had the chance. 
Unless she'd gone to get help, to call in her
comrades for the final kill.  But why?  He'd been
down for at least... it took all his effort to
focus on his watch.  A half hour or more.

A flash of white caught his eye.  He bent,
picking up the torn underwear, his eyes widening
at the dots of blood.  Nah.  She couldn't be -
but a quick check of his own body told the tale. 
In living color on his dick and his fingers,
branding him with a red flag of innocence lost.

"Well, I'll be damned," he breathed.

A virgin.  Either that, or he'd split her in two. 
But no, that couldn't be the case.  She was as
ready for him as any woman he'd ever been with,
and he wasn't one to force his attentions on
unwilling women.  No, her arousal and readiness
had been genuine, as well as the way she'd
welcomed him, and pleaded for release.

And if she had been untouched before now?  Then
no way did she work for Chang.  The only use he
had for virgins was to fetch a high price from
his more wealthy customers.  He certainly
wouldn't waste the money she'd command in the
sack by sending her after an old nemesis.

Unless she was forced to do so - any number of
debts owed to Chang could be used to command her
cooperation.  A sister in trouble, a mother or
father held hostage... hell, the vial he still
had in his pocket was very likely opium.  Addicts
were known to do anything for the next fix.

The thoughts made his head hurt more, but it also
made him more determined to get to the bottom of
the mystery.  Even more so, he'd made love to a
stranger, one who'd embraced him with a passion
he'd not felt in more than five years.  No matter
what her motivation, she'd fit to him like she
was born for his touch.  He *had* to find her,
starting with the one place he knew she had to
have gone.  She wouldn't try to travel far in the
Jeep; one radio call and he could have the state
patrol on her ass within the hour.

He walked gingerly to the radio.  "Jerry?  You
still up?  Come back."

No answer.  He tried again, but with no success. 
He also tried the local sheriff's station, but
got no answer.  That wasn't surprising; Peidmont
was a one-horse town of maybe a couple of hundred
people.  The sheriff went home for the night at
about five, and everyone knew his home number if
they needed anything.

Mulder cursed his lack of a telephone.  He'd have
to wait until morning, or walk into town, which
wasn't wise.  One more time, he called for Jerry.

A few seconds, then, "Yeah?  Mulder, that you?"

Mulder breathed a sigh of relief.  "Jerry.  Good. 
Thought you'd gone home."

"I was just locking up the bays, taking a last
look around.  What's up?"

"My Jeep over there?"

"Uh... yeah," Jerry answered dubiously.  "Why? 
Thought you told Miss Scully you'd come by
tomorrow for it?"

His blood ran cold.  "Come back?"

"She said you weren't feeling good, that you'd
come get it -"

Mulder depressed the talk button savagely, a
chill of impending doom running up his spine. 
"What'd you say her name was?  The name?"

"Scully.  Dana Scully.  Thought she was a friend
of yours?"

Closing his eyes, Mulder leaned against the wall
and sighed, "A friend of a friend."  It was the
total truth.  "I'll see you tomorrow, Jerry."  He
clicked off the radio and flopped into the
rocker, his head in his hands.

She wasn't an assassin.  By a wild streak of
coincidence, he'd met up with an innocent and
made a foolish, devastating mistake.  One he
would soon be made to answer for, he was certain.

God.  What had he done?


End Chapter Five