PT 3/4 ********* Scully unlocked her door and entered her room. She gasped when she turned on the light. Like Mulder’s, her room was decked out like a house of ill-repute. Frilly red lampshades with black lace trim graced the lamps beside her bed, which was covered in a red satiny bedspread. It looked like a kind of erotic hell right down to the red carpet. She sighed and dropped her briefcase and purse on the small table situated by the window. She flipped on the TV in her room and was greeted by the same moaning and heavy breathing. She grinned as she imagined Mulder finding the same programming. She rotated through the channels until she came to a local news broadcast and listened to it idly as she headed to the bathroom. She flipped on the light which glared brightly white and was relieved to find it at least clean. She opened her suitcase and pulled out a pair of jeans and a soft, warm sweater and lay them neatly across the bed while she shed her jacket and shoes. The news anchor talked about a break-in at a local sporting goods store as she finished undressing. Scully heard the station’s meteorologist discussing the possibility of heavy snows as she turned on the tap and climbed into the steaming water. Mulder lathered his hair and body perfunctorily, then rinsed off, standing under the hard spray letting the flow of hot water carry away his stress. After a few blissful minutes, he shut off the tap and stepped out of the shower, his hard swimmer’s body glistened in the blue light. He grabbed one of the rough white towels folded neatly in the rack above the toilet and dried himself, finishing up by rubbing it vigorously across his head, drying his hair somewhat. He wrapped the towel around his waist and stood in front of the large plate glass mirror over the sink. Grabbing his toothbrush he gave his teeth a quick going-over and then ran a comb through his hair, which was standing straight up after its agitation. Mulder dug in his bag and retrieved a clean pair of black boxers and jeans. He dove in again, pulling out a matching t-shirt and a sweater made of thick gray wool. He stepped into his jeans as he heard Scully’s knock. He buttoned them en route, pausing long enough to peek through the spy hole, then unlock both chain and bolt. He opened it for her, letting it swing wide as he headed back to pick up the cotton shirt and pull it over his head. A gust of icy air rushed into him as he pulled the sweater on after it. “Is it me, or is it suddenly much colder out there?” he inquired with a shiver. Scully hastily closed the door. She studied the décor while reminding herself that not only was Mulder her partner, but she was his doctor and that it would be inappropriate for her to watch him dress. Her eyes made the circuit around the tacky room coming to the mirrored ceiling in time to see Mulder dropping his pants down his hips to tuck in his shirt. She let her eyes linger on his flat stomach under the dark cotton until Mulder caught her eye in the mirror. She quickly looked at the blue satiny lampshade, missing the smile that lit up Mulder’s face at having caught her looking. “The forecast is for snow,” she said, “Hungry?” She turned to the TV, then turned to him, her composure completely intact, “Looks like that movie that isn’t yours finally made it to cable.” Mulder’s eyes crinkled with his smile, “Don’t you know Kirsch is going to go postal when he sees that charge on the bill? Lends credibility to the tryst theory. A very clever deception on my part, if I do say so myself,” he grinned. He donned his shoes and they headed out into the, now, cold evening. Everything in Black Crow was within walking distance. They quickly decided on the closest restaurant, which was a greasy spoon across the street from the motel. The sky was the shade of mercury. They pushed through the door of Pete’s Café with the wind shoving them from behind. The café was warm and the smells coming from the small kitchen were inviting and appetizing. They situated themselves in a booth next to the window and pulled out the laminated menus from between the sugar dispenser and salt and pepper shakers. A middle-aged, dark-haired woman ambled up to the table, placing two glasses of water before them. “Something to drink?” she asked with a tired smile. They both asked for coffee. She pulled a pencil from behind her ear, marking the order on the check as she made her way behind the counter. Mulder perused the menu and settled on chicken fried steak with country gravy and mashed potatoes. He had begun the day with a doughnut and coffee and hadn’t eaten since. Scully opted for the BLT and big bowl of vegetable beef soup. Their food arrived in short order and they ate while they discussed their options. Scully wrapped her cold hands around the bowl of soup. The smell that greeted her nose was delightful. She picked up her spoon and went to work on it, pausing from time to time to take a bite of the BLT. The tomato was a bit mushy, but given the season, she was grateful for the hothouse from which it must have come. The soup was actually better than her mother’s. Mulder was making short work of his plate, which was completely covered by his steak and smothered with the creamiest white gravy. She said a silent prayer for his arteries and then watched with an amused smile as he tried to wolf it down politely. Between bites, they began their search for Kaitlyn Matheson. Scully believed that she had been able to escape her captors and had fled into the woods on foot. She felt a guilty pang for enjoying her hot soup, thinking of the rapidly falling temperature and Dr. Matheson’s likely unprepared attire. They finished eating quickly and after paying the check, walked a half-block down the street to Burnett’s Hardware and Sporting Goods Discount. A huge piece of cardboard was taped to the door frame, covering the hole left by missing glass. Mulder purchased another gift for Kirsch’s blood pressure in the form of two blizzard weight snow suits and an expensive pair of night vision binoculars. He chose boots and arctic weight socks that were heated by a small battery secured in the top band. He concluded with two pairs of ski gloves and caps. Mr. Burnett pushed the credit card slip across the counter with a big smile. It wasn’t often he made such big ticket sales, and business had been slow lately. He proceeded to tell Mulder as much, chatting him up while he signed the paper, “yeah, and after the break in last night, I thought we were goners for sure.” Mulder’s ears perked up. “You had a break in last night?” he asked casually. “Yeah, damnedest thing, too. Mostly clothes and camping gear, they left $5000 in the drawer,” he mused shaking his head. “Hell, I was grateful. Missy closed up last night and didn’t do the receipts, told me she was tired and would do them this morning. I thought sure we were bankrupt when the police phoned to tell me about it. Insurance’ll pay for the stock, but cash in the drawer is harder to prove,” he said with a wink. Mulder smiled in response to Burnett’s quip. “Were there any arrests?” he inquired. “No, they were long gone by the time Earl saw the glass broken. But he figured it was kids,” his face darkened slightly, “There are a few around here that run wild.” Mulder nodded in sober sympathy, “Yeah, the streets aren’t safe these days.” He thanked Mr. Burnett and made ready to leave, grabbing two of the four large bags. Scully, who had been silently monitoring their conversation, moved forward and took the other two while the shopkeeper hurried from behind the counter to hold the door for them. The snow had just begun to fall and they had to lean into the wind. The ground looked like it had been sprinkled with flour. Small hard pellets of sleet had preceded the large fluffy flakes that now fell by about twenty minutes covering the landscape in a powdery blanket of white. They saw no one else on the street as they made their way back to the motel, giving Scully second thoughts about the night’s proposed activities. Mulder set the bag in his right hand against the door on the ground while he dug in his pocket for the key. He retrieved it quickly and opened the door. Scully dropped both sacks on Mulder’s bed and began to remove their contents. Mulder pushed the door closed behind them with a bump of his butt and his burden joined hers on the bed. They pulled on the snow suits over their clothes and were starting to sweat as they pushed their heated feet into the boots. They headed out into the worsening weather in search of Dr. Matheson. They stepped out into the night. Scully was immediately grateful for the bulky snowsuit. The temperature was continuing to plummet, but the wind was slowing and the snow was beginning to fall in huge lumps. It reminded her of the way the snow fell in a Charlie Brown cartoon. She smiled at the memories that flooded her mind. Missy and herself sitting together in their pajamas, nestled under a blanket with cups of hot chocolate, watching poor Charlie Brown picking out the most pitiful Christmas tree on the lot, while the Scully family tree twinkled merrily in the corner. “You ready?” he asked. Mulder had retrieved several items from the trunk of the rental. He stood there holding a large flashlight and a can of spray paint. He unzipped his snowsuit and retrieved his weapon from its holster under his arm. He zipped up hastily as he slipped the gun in his front pocket through a slit in the side. Scully followed suit. She took the flashlight and they headed out towards Burnett’s. Mulder pointed to a small space that ran between Burnett’s neighbor, a dress shop, and the next building. Scully directed the light toward it as she headed in after him. “If someone steals camping gear, it would stand to reason that they want to go camping, don’t you think?” Mulder asked. “This comes out right next to the woods,” he said as they exited the narrow alley. Scully looked out at the trees that stood about 20 yards from the back of the buildings. She took the point position with the flashlight as Mulder followed close at her elbow. They walked further and further into the trees. Scully playing her light through them, looking for some sign of life. Mulder had been marking trees with blasts from the spray paint. Bright orange “X”s marked their path. They had been covering the area back and forth, deeper into the woods with each pass, but had found nothing. Mulder’s paint can had become worthless about three trees ago, its nozzle frozen up and clogged. “Mulder, I don’t think we’re going to find anything in this mess,” she began. “The snow is getting pretty deep, too. Don’t you think we’d better head back?” Mulder looked down at the snow about to crest the tops of his boots. “You’re right, Scully,” he conceded, “If she is out here, we’ll never find her in this.” They turned back toward the motel, following the big orange “X”s. Ten feet from Mulder’s last footprint stood a small pup-tent, the snow a foot thick over its black vinyl roof. Two people huddled together in a single thermal sleeping bag, waiting out the storm. ++++++++++++++++++++++++ They had managed to escape the silo compound without detection. Alex had pushed her to the limits of her endurance, but it had been necessary for their survival. They had skirted the highway, keeping to the trees as much as they could. They had come to Black Crow a few hours before daybreak. Alex had sniffed the air and caught the scent of snow. His youth in Russia had taught him to recognize the signs of a coming blizzard. He had dug out a niche for Kaitlyn. She had settled into it gratefully and he had covered her with leaves. With her securely hidden, he had ventured toward the tiny town to scavenge like the rat he had become. His only concern was their survival and he couldn’t afford a conscience with which to wrestle. He slunk silently and quickly from the cover of the trees. The sporting goods store should have everything he needed. It was risky, but he knew without supplies, they would die. He picked up a brick in the small alleyway. After noting the town’s one police car parked at the end of the main street in front of the station, he smashed the brick through the front door of the shop. He moved with alacrity, selecting first a heavy sweater to cover his bare chest. He pulled it over his head and continued shopping. Next was a large backpack designed for cross-country hiking. He opened it and began to shove things inside. He took warm clothes for Kaitlyn, guessing about her size and pushed them into the pack. They were followed by a first aid kit and several rolls of Ace bandages, a large battery powered lantern and several packs of batteries, and a large canteen. He dug around until he found a small tent that collapsed into a cylindrical bundle about three feet long by six inches around and fit inside a vinyl carrying case. He next grabbed a large insulated sleeping bag, securing it to the provided spot on the pack. He found a couple of boxes of energy bars and they joined the rest of the booty inside. Lastly, he moved behind the counter and removed a rifle from the rack built into the wall there. Shoving three boxes of ammo into the bag, he secured it, hefted it onto his back and after slinging the tent over his shoulder, snatched up the rifle. He looked longingly at a small kerosene heater, but left it where it sat. It would become a bigger liability than it was worth, he didn’t have enough hands and Kaitlyn would be unable to carry it. A quick look up and down the street assured him that all was clear and he headed back into the woods to find Kaitlyn. He found her sleeping under the blanket of leaves. She looked drawn and pale. He knew she was in terrible pain, but she did not complain. His heart swelled with admiration for her. She was tough beneath that delicate exterior, there beat the heart of a warrior. He respected her strength and he had to admit – he loved her. Helping her to stand, they moved out further into the trees. They hiked for about two hours before Krycek, noticing Kaitlyn stagger for the sixth time, stopped her, sitting her down on a large tree root. He pulled the tent from its carrying case and shook it. It popped open as the metal stays sewn into the vinyl sprung out to resume their natural, unfettered shape. He pushed the small tent back into a cluster of scrub trees, giving the tent camouflage from anyone not standing on top of it. He helped Kaitlyn to put on the warm clothes and re-bandaged her wrist. She winced and tears welled up in her eyes, but she made no sound. He unrolled the sleeping bag helping her to climb inside both it and the tent. He rummaged around inside the bag for a couple of energy bars, hid the pack under the same brush and climbed in with her. He offered her the chocolate flavored bar, but she demurred. He nodded his understanding and held her as she snuggled up close to him and fell almost instantly asleep. Mulder and Scully traipsed up to their respective doors at the motel. They were both exhausted, cold and a bit cranky. They hadn’t spoken for the last mile of their journey, not because they were angry, but because they were defeated. With the snow coming down so fast, they both figured that if they did find Kaitlyn Matheson, it would be her frozen corpse. Stomping the snow from their boots, they each entered their rooms, muttering a quiet “goodnight”. Scully unzipped her snowsuit and shed it. Her breath fogged out as she stripped the rest of her clothes and pulled on her favorite flannel pajamas. She adjusted the knob on the wall heater to high and hoped that it would heat the room before she froze to death. Shivering, she pulled back the covers on the bed and nestled down inside it. Grabbing the remote control, she flipped through the channels in search of a mindless diversion. She found an old Marx Brothers movie after the fourth channel and settled on it, needing a good laugh. She propped her back up against the headboard and several pillows and pulled the covers to her chin, wishing that the heater would hurry up and do its thing. The last thing she saw was Groucho sitting at a table in a hotel restaurant telling Margaret Dumont that looking at him was the price she had to pay for the meal, as her eyes slowly closed, a smile on her lips. Mulder dropped the flashlight on the bed and threw the paint can in the trash. He stripped down to his shorts and stretched out on the bed, kicking the flashlight to the floor in the process. He turned on the TV and flipped through the channels coming to rest on the one with the porno. He turned down the volume and watched himself in the mirrors above his bed. He didn’t really care anything about the movie, but some childish part of him wanted to make Kirsch pay for it. Random thoughts tumbled through his mind as he stared himself down in the mirror. He thought about the X-Files and tried to analyze his nearly fanatical devotion to them, which brought him to Scully. She had been his most stubborn foil when his imagination took flight into extreme possibilities and his most stalwart supporter when the evidence had proved his theories correct. Poor Scully, what was she giving up for him? A family? A career in medicine? A life? He felt suddenly sad for that all he perceived he had kept her from achieving in her life. Regret and self- condemnation lulled him into a fitful sleep. Scully woke shivering violently. The heater apparently was not working at all and the room was extremely cold. A keening noise assaulted her ears just seconds before the ceiling burst with icy water, drenching her and the bed. She shrieked and flew from the bed, but not before she was soaked. She used a few choice expletives that would have shocked her sailor brother and ran to the bathroom to grab a towel. Her bag, which had been sitting in a chair next to the bed was filling with water, all her clothes drenched. She grabbed the bag and moved it from beneath the deluge, wrapped the towel close around herself and ran next door. She banged on the door with her fist nearly convulsing with shivering. ++++++++++++++++++++++ Alex gently put a hand over Kaitlyn’s mouth. He had heard snapping twigs and footfalls. “Shhh,” he breathed quietly into her ear. He moved very slowly, reaching for the rifle in the dark. “The snow is getting pretty deep, too. Don’t you think we’d better head back?” He held his breath, the feminine voice was very close. “You’re right, Scully,” he heard a male voice answer, “If she is out here, we’ll never find her in this.” Mulder?! he thought with a start. He should have known Mulder would be sent to look for Kaitlyn. He didn’t move, didn’t breathe, he just waited to see if they would be discovered. He released his hold on the rifle. He knew that he wasn’t prepared to kill Mulder, if only because he was Spender’s unwitting pawn. He couldn’t let Mulder take Kaitlyn, but he knew that it was useless to get himself killed in a vain effort of resistance. Soon he heard the footsteps retreating, the popping and snapping of the branches like gunfire in his straining ears, but fading in the distance. Kaitlyn buried her face into his chest. Silent sobs shaking her small body. He pulled her close and kissed the top of her head. “He’ll never give up, will he?” she asked miserably. Alex just sighed and held her close to his chest. She had accepted the realities of death when she had agreed to allow herself to be infected by the black oil, agreed to take the nanites into her own system, to deliver the virus that his confederates had created to work with her own brilliant creation. Death she had bravely been willing to accept, but life as a fugitive? Like him? That she had not counted on and the reality of that life was hitting her hard, soaking deep into her consciousness that life on the run was the only life left to her. His heart was breaking for her. He was a man without a country, without allegiances, he had nothing more than this to offer her. “Don’t blame yourself, Alexei,” she whispered softly into the soft indentation in his throat, reading him like a book. “You saved my life.” She reached up with her good hand and caressed his stubbled cheek. He reached up with his hands and buried them in her hair, pulling her face close to his. His lips found hers in the darkness. They parted as his tongue gently probed for hers. The kiss sparked a flame and they didn’t notice the cold outside the small tent, their heat would sustain them until morning. Mulder grabbed and pulled on a pair of sweats at the first pounding. He opened the door to find Scully shivering and soaked on the other side. He pulled her into the room and grabbed two towels from his bathroom. Her lips were blue from the cold. “What happened?” he asked, as he chaffed her arms with the towel trying to warm her up and she vigorously rubbed her head with the other. “The damned pipe must have frozen and burst,” she explained, her voice coming out with a vibrato from her tremors. “Right over the bed,” she said ruefully. Mulder rushed to his bag, pulling out a pair of pajamas and a robe. She took them gratefully and headed for the bathroom to change out of her wet pajamas. She emerged a few minutes later, still toweling her wet hair, the robe and pajamas swallowing her diminutive form. Mulder swallowed hard, trying not to tell her how cute and waifish she looked. Her lips were still a bit blue, but her shivering had subsided to a slight vibration. He wrapped his arms around her trying to share some of his body heat with her and was pleasantly surprised when she leaned into his embrace. He led her over to the bed and bade her get in, pulling the covers back. She climbed into it with an uncharacteristic lack of fighting about it. He covered her to her chin. He reached for the chair intending to sleep in it, when she shocked him again by pulling the covers back and patting the mattress beside her. “I’m still freezing,” she said quietly. He climbed in the bed, scooting close enough to wrap his arms around her. She pushed back until her ass was pressed firmly against him, like two spoons in a cupboard. He could feel her still shaking and he wrapped himself around her to share his body heat. He recited a litany of baseball stats in his head in a concerted effort to prevent his body from reacting to the closeness of hers. Soon, the tremors ceased and he felt her begin to relax, the muscles in her back, arms and legs slowly releasing their tetanic spasm. She was silent, her breathing slow and steady. He was certain she was asleep. “What are you thinking?” she asked, her words slurred and sleepy. She turned to face him, drawing her knees up a bit so that they bumped his. Her clasped hands rested on his chest. “I was just thinking how much this is like being married,” he mused quietly. “Sleeping in the same bed and not having sex.” She laid her head against the crook of his arm and giggled softly. The phone on Mulder’s bedside table jangled, loud and shrill, waking him from a sound and peaceful sleep. He stretched, gently extricating his arm from beneath Scully’s head, and reached for it, silencing it on the third ring. “Yeah, hello?” he said softly as Scully groaned and rolled over onto Mulder’s pillow, pulling her own over her head. “Good morning, Agent,” Skinner’s voice cut straight through the fog in Mulder’s brain. “Good morning, sir,” Mulder replied, “to what do I owe the pleasure?” “This isn’t a social call, Mulder,” he said brusquely. “I’ve spent the past 36 hours having my ass chewed by Director Kirsch. He gnawed off one cheek because I sent you to North Dakota after he had closed the case…” “Let me guess,” Mulder popped off before he had a chance to rein it back, “the other cheek’s gone because we didn’t come back?” “That is correct,” Skinner deadpanned. “I’m sorry, sir,” Mulder said earnestly, “You stuck your neck out to send us in the first place. We’ll get the first flight out of Fargo as soon as we can get there. I don’t know what the road conditions are like, but…” “There’s no need,” Skinner interrupted, “I should be there in about 3 hours. After Kirsch finished bawling me out for sending the two of you, he tells me that I am to join you and insure that Dr. Matheson is found and detained. Or her body recovered if that is the case. It seems the case has been reopened and given a higher priority.” He stopped, giving Mulder time to absorb his words. “I see,” Mulder responded. Several questions and theories began to flicker in his mind like a string of Christmas tree lights warming up, blinking hesitantly at first then becoming a fluid series of strobes. The one that burned brightest, was who now wanted confirmation of Dr. Matheson’s death. After last night, her death seemed nearly a certainty. “Oh, Mulder,” Skinner added with the slightest smirk in his voice, “I am to inform you that the cost of the porno movie will be coming out of your check.” He clicked off and climbed into the waiting helicopter. Scully stretched again, pushing her pillow off her head. “So what’s it to be?” she asked sarcastically, “reassignment to Kansas or 40 lashes?” She ran her hands through her hopelessly tousled hair. “How’d you sleep?” she inquired with a mischievous smile. “Just like a married man,” he replied with a playfully sad shake of his head, “completely undisturbed.” An exaggerated pout followed his words. Scully beamed as she rose from the bed. She crossed the room shedding the borrowed robe on the foot of the bed. “See, Mulder,” she said over her shoulder as she headed for the bathroom, “that’s where you’re wrong. If we were married, you wouldn’t have slept at all.” And with that, she closed the bathroom door behind her. Mulder’s open-mouthed stare was quickly replaced by a crooked grin. “Hoo-boy!” he said softly. *** Kaitlyn and Alex reluctantly untwined, parting with a final kiss. The sun would be up in a couple of hours and they couldn’t afford the luxury of lingering. They climbed out of their thermal cocoon, quickly dressed in all the clothes Alex had stolen, and dug their way out of the tent. The snow had accumulated throughout the night, effectively burying their small burrow. Alex packed up their gear, hefting the large bundle onto his back and secured the bottom strap around his waist. They munched on frozen energy bars as they made their way to the main highway on the edge of town. They made no effort to conceal the deep ruts in the knee-deep snow, their only objective being to put as many miles between themselves and their pursuers as possible before sunrise. The snow had stopped falling and the wind stilled, leaving everything coated in thick silence. Alex checked his watch; if all went well, they would rendezvous with his connection in St. Paul by the same hour tomorrow. Kaitlyn was clutching her injured wrist, but was able to keep up the pace. They cleared the edge of the woods just as the sun was peeking over the horizon. The snowplows had been busy and the highway was cleared and passable. They crossed the roadway and began to head east. Before long, a semi-truck geared down behind them, the engine rumbling as it came to a stop in the middle of the single eastbound lane. “Y’all need a lift?” the driver, whose name was Dave they soon found out, asked with a big, open and honest smile. “Yeah, thanks,” Alex responded, leaping up to the cab and reaching out to assist Kaitlyn in climbing up. He stowed the pack in the huge floorboard and hauled her into his lap as he closed the door behind her. Dave asked them where they were headed. Kaitlyn replied wistfully that they were bound where ever the wind blew them as Dave began ascending gears and the rumble of the engine built in a slow crescendo. ++++++++++++++++ Spender paced around the car for the hundredth time in an hour. He was filled with righteous indignation at the summons he had received and his anger was rising at the added insult of being kept waiting. He pulled his overcoat closer around himself. The night was quite cold and the steady, misty drizzle did nothing to improve his disposition. The puny halo of the lone security light was suddenly swallowed by a greenish glow that seemed to emanate from everywhere. He squinted against the intensity of the light, finally closing his eyes altogether when the brilliance became painful. He finally threw his arm up in an attempt to shield them further. Then, just as suddenly, the light was gone. The security light sat darkened for a few moments until its sensors had time to adjust. It hummed briefly and flickered on again casting the large lot in faint blue tones. Spender heard the gravel crunching beneath its feet before he was able to pick out the figure approaching from the direction of the abandoned warehouse. From its current distance, it seemed faintly reptilian. The features became more human as it strode toward him and he wondered if it was his imagination. As it came to a halt before him, the face was that of the heavily browed, hard-eyed being he recognized as “their” bounty hunter. Spender had enlisted this being’s services to clean up a few messes. One such mess was when several of his project’s “experiments” had dared to think about the work they were assigned to do, the work by which they themselves had resulted, and to rebel against his authority over them by exposing the genetics aspect of the project to Mulder. Those drones had actually had the temerity to consider themselves human! He took a deep drag from his cigarette, trying to calm himself. “You’re late,” he huffed. “The communiqué I received specified a meeting over an hour ago. My time is valuable.” “You overestimate your place in the grand scheme of things,” the bounty hunter replied. “You have a problem,” he said with the same eerie lack of emotional inflection. “I?” Spender said, now very nervous. What did his “friends” know about Kaitlyn’s disappearance? “Dr. Matheson has managed to infect the biogenetic symbiont with the use of technology that was entrusted to you. The colonists are very upset.” The bounty hunter loomed over the old man maliciously. “What measures are being taken?” “I have the situation under control,” Spender lied with his best poker face. “Dr. Matheson will be acquired and terminated shortly.” “The colonists want her taken alive for questioning,” he stated flatly. “She is to be delivered within the next 72 hours. I will be here then to take custody. If you are unable to produce her, the colonists will be forced to reexamine your usefulness to their plans.” He morphed into Spender’s likeness, “You can be replaced.” He turned and walked away, leaving the old man standing there with cold fear gripping his heart. Mulder retrieved Scully’s things from her soggy room and left to procure her another while she attempted to dry out a sweater and leggings with her blow-dryer. She still wore Mulder’s pajamas. She laughed out loud when she imagined Skinner’s reaction to finding her in Mulder’s room, wearing his pajamas – she instantly knew that no one would ever believe how innocent it had really been and decided she didn’t really care what anyone might think of it anyway. Meanwhile, Mulder had given up on trying to draw the lethargic old desk clerk into a friendly exchange. He simply took the key she shoved at him with a polite “thanks” and left her to the soap opera he had evidently sacrilegiously interrupted. The key was to the room on the other side of his, opposite to where she’d been before. He headed through the parking lot swinging the key on his finger, not really noticing the knee deep snow, but lost in contemplation of Scully’s teasing words this morning. He had never imagined he had a chance with his normally frosty partner, but lately she had begun loosening up a bit and he found that he liked this Scully a lot. Too much, he had thought, until this morning… He looked up and noticed he was at the door of his room. He shook his head wondering how long he’d been standing there with this addled idiot-looking smile on his puss. He pushed the key into the lock and swung the door open. His smile broadened as he saw her standing there, blow-dryer in hand, wearing the same silly grin. He cleared his throat loudly and shut the door with enough force to be heard over the whine of the appliance, he didn’t want to startle her. Scully looked up from her task at the sound, turning the dyer off to give it time to cool down. It was a miracle that it had survived the deluge and she didn’t want to burn out the small motor while pushing it to perform a function for which it had never been intended. Mulder went back outside and unlocked her door. Moving inside, he unlocked the door that now adjoined their rooms with a wicked thought that he quickly pushed to the back of his mind. She had done the same to the door in his room and soon, they had a suite. Scully was grateful for the heated path to her room for the sake of her bare feet. Mulder had helped her move her things and she settled in. The new room was equally as tacky as the one she’d vacated last night, but it was done up in electric pink with black trim. Like it’s counterpart, however, it was clean. She bid Mulder a brief farewell and closed the door between them while she showered. The dyer was put through more rigors as she dried out underclothes, socks, and hiking boots, then pushed it to it’s ultimate limit as she finished drying her hair. She laid out the rest of her clothes as best she could over furniture and the shower rod in hopes that they would dry without turning her room into a sauna. After a final appraisal in the glass, she squared her shoulders shifting instantly into “work” mode and knocked on the door between their rooms. Mulder pulled the door open and she stepped inside. Skinner stood looking at the mirrors on Mulder’s ceiling with an unreadable look on his face. “How can you sleep in something like this?” he asked with a slight curl of distaste on his lips. “I slept quite soundly and completely undisturbed, sir,” Mulder deadpanned. Scully covered her guffaw with a cough, hiding her quirking mouth behind the loose fist of her left hand. Skinner looked from one to the other of them, certain that he was missing a phenomenal joke, but elected not to ask. “Let’s get to work, shall we?” he asked. It was not a question. They sobered and headed out to enlist the help of the local PD in their search for, most likely, Dr. Matheson’s remains. They organized a search party of mostly local volunteers and the tiny hamlet’s single on-duty officer and fanned out behind the sporting goods store, searching the area as Mulder and Scully had the night before. Their tracks had been completely covered by the snow that had fallen during the night, but Mulder used his tree marks to guide him to the place where they had vacated their search. A few steps further elicited a loud, “shit!” from him. Scully and Skinner converged almost instantly on his location and found the source of his distress. A large bare spot in a snow covered copse of scrub trees and deep ruts in the snow showed that someone had hidden here and escaped right out from under their noses. “You know,” Skinner said, “I’m no Daniel Boone, but it looks to me as if our fugitive is not alone.” He pointed down at the ruts that plainly showed two sets of footprints at their bottom, one significantly larger than the other. “Fugitive?” Scully asked with a raised eyebrow. “I thought that Dr. Matheson was the victim here.” “Fugitive as of this morning, Agent Scully,” Skinner informed her. “I received a call from Director Kirsch en route. Dr. Matheson is to be detained for questioning on suspicion of treason.” “I’ll bet I know who she’s allegedly betrayed,” Mulder muttered darkly. They followed the tracks to the point at which they disappeared into the slush abutting the plowed highway. Mulder glanced at his watch noting that it was well past noon. Dr. Matheson and her accomplice were long gone, and he knew it. He scanned the highway as it stretched out seemingly endlessly in both directions. He mentally flipped a coin and decided that they would head east. The search party was disbanded by Skinner with the FBI’s thanks and the three of them trudged back to the motel. Tired and hungry, they elected to discuss their next move over lunch at the greasy spoon across the street. +++++++++++++++++++++ Kaitlyn and Alex thanked Dave for the ride as they stepped down from the cab into the parking lot of the truck stop. He wished them good luck, then he pulled back onto the road. They watched as he hit the cloverleaf and made the turn south to warmer climes. They were on the outskirts of St. Paul. They walked from the road to the building that housed the truck stop’s convenience store and restaurant. Alex plugged coins into the payphone they found on the outside wall. After a brief hushed conversation, he and Kaitlyn made their way to the back of the building and settled on the ground against the wall. After a brief time, a blue sedan with darkly tinted windows pulled up a few feet from where they sat. The driver exited the vehicle and walked away leaving the door open and the engine running. Alex helped Kaitlyn to her feet and maneuvered her to the passenger side door which he opened for her. She cast a nervous glance in the direction the driver had gone, in time to see him climbing into another car that waited by the road. She shot a questioning look at Alex who only frowned slightly and shook his head. She got in without a word and he closed the door behind her. He paused briefly at the trunk, which had been opened earlier from inside and retrieved an emergency medical kit which he hoped had been stocked according to his directions. He tossed it in the back seat and slid in behind the wheel. He pulled the car into gear and drove it to the back of the large lot slipping in between two of the monstrous trucks whose drivers’ were asleep in their berths. He looked at her with obvious sympathy and motioned her into the backseat. Alex joined her and proceeded to expertly tend to her injury. He opened the med kit and pulled out a device that looked like a laptop computer with a space-age grocery store price scanner attached to it by a coiled cord. He flipped the monitor open and hit the power button, setting it at his feet. He gently unwrapped her wrist while the computer went through its specialized boot-up sequence. He dug in the kit again, this time pulling out a small package sealed in plastic. He also pulled out several syringes and needles of varying sizes and lay them on the seat between them. He closed the lid of the kit, which resembled a large tackle box and retrieved two vials of liquid sealed with metal caps from a small drawer in the base of it. Using the lid as a makeshift table, he then began opening the package. He tore the plastic away revealing what seemed to be a box wrapped in blue napkins. He unwrapped them and spread them out across the surface of the lid. The next layer was a pair of gloves followed by a blue sheet of cloth-like paper backed with plastic which he spread out on top of the napkins careful to handle it only by its edges. What remained was an 11”x14”x8” container that held a scissors with blunted shovel- like tips, two large plastic bottles, two rolls of a strange waffle-weave bandage, a long folded bit of gauze and a thin, short piece of molded plastic. He filled several syringes with lidocaine from the larger of the vials. He laid them aside on the rear-window shelf with their caps securely back in place. He arranged the laptop so that he could see it’s monitor clearly. Resting her arm flat on the table, he picked up the scanner and squeezed the trigger. A rectangle of laser sharp red light appeared on the now purple and yellow bruised flesh. The bones of her wrist glowed in the monitor and he let out a small sigh of relief. The ulna was broken cleanly at an angle near its distal terminus and the lunate was dislocated. It should be easy enough to set. Handing her the scanner, he apologized in advance and removed the cap of the first injection. He inserted the lidocaine in several sites along the heel of her hand and wrist, carefully pulling back a bit on the plunger at every site to insure that he was not in a vein. He stopped when she reported numbness up to her elbow. With the imaging scanner to guide him, he squeezed the small wrist-bone back into place with a sickening pop and manipulated the small piece of the broken ulna until it was flush against the larger segment. Carefully fitting the molded plastic in place under her hand and wrist, he retrieved the container and began to remove the things from inside. He poured the water into the empty receptacle and unwrapped the rolls which he placed in the water. He unfolded the gauze revealing it to be a sort of tube and slipped it over her hand pulling it up to her elbow. He checked the placement of the bone fragment again. Noting that it was still in place, he pulled one of the rolls from the water and began to cut long segments and wrap them around her hand, wrist and forearm until he had built up many layers. The bottom layers were hardening by the time he placed the last layer. It was an efficient cast by the time he had shoved the remaining mess into the med kit. He filled a small syringe with morphine from the smaller vial, helped her to get settled comfortably in the passenger seat, then injected her with it. He replaced the scanner device in the trunk and chunked the med kit in a nearby dumpster after removing two bottles of pills from the drawer which had held the lidocaine and morphine. By the time he got back to the car, Kaitlyn was asleep. He climbed in and headed the car out onto the highway toward D.C. and better connections. ++++++++++++++++++++++++ end pt. 3/4